Destiny's Choice (The Wandering Engineer) (69 page)

Now
he was paying for it. It would be all right, they'd still make a profit, but
he'd have to have a talk with the captain about limiting how much stores they
took on. That was if he could get Irons to curtail some of his replicating. The
good news was that the Admiral would be gone soon. He wasn't so sure it really
was good news in the end though. He felt a little lost at the idea. Sure Irons
was an idealist, a pain in the ass, and that assassin was scaring the bejebers
out of everyone. But he was also an honorable man who had bailed them out
repeatedly. He was also the only one with replicator key codes... something
Charlie of all people appreciated. Irons was a treasure. He was fairly certain
people in Pyrax were shitting themselves now that they realized it. When the
ramifications of Irons being the only one left with the key codes hit... He
didn't want to think about it.

“Interesting
place. If you like rat traps,” Sprite said with a sniff as he admired the log
cabin building. Most of the buildings were like that, cabins of one design or
another or Old American Western style store fronts. He wondered about the logic
of it. Most were Terran design of course, which was again odd. You'd think a
veraxin or other alien architect would have had a hand in some of the designs.

Of
course it did look a great deal more colorful than Briev. Sure most of the
colors were browns, but they'd painted some places like the general store in
yellow. Others like the healer had the ancient red cross with a white
background. A fish monger had a blue store with stylized fish painted all over
the building. It was the first sign of some form of painted art Irons had seen
on all three planets.

“It
has it's rustic charm,” he said with a smile, nodding to people that passed. A
few looked at him in interest, others in indifference. They were dressed in
rustic clothes, the men wore simple brown slacks and white tops. The women wore
skirts or shapeless dresses of various colors. Both genders wore hats, some
wore top hats, others stetsons or fur caps. The women had their hats and
bonnets adorned with flowers and feathers. It was another fresh breath of
freedom of expression.

He
looked around, trying to hide a scowl. He wanted to remain open and friendly
despite the Pyrax delegates getting down ahead of him. He was concerned about
the gag order, wondering if Notuma had been good to his word. Notuma could try
but he had no control of people and what they said off the ship. Someone might
have been spiteful enough to say something anyway.

He'd
taken the time to come down anyway, he had to kill time and being stuck in the
ship was a pain. Even he got cabin fever after a while. Bailey had lent him a
hand loading up his launch so he could come down with some goods and tech to
pass out. So far he hadn't had much luck.

“Rusty
you mean. Tetanus anyone?” Sprite snorted.

“Hush,”
he sighed. He noted a family on the sidewalk. A human family, a woman and two
kids. The women were dressed in dresses or skirts. The woman pulled her
children close then led them across the street to the other sidewalk, head in
the air. He shook his own head. So much for Charlie Notuma's word on the
subject.

“I
take it the locals were warned about me?” he asked softly under his breath.

“I
have no idea. There wasn't anything mentioned in the communications between
ship and shore. But judging by their behavior I would think it is a distinct
possibility Admiral,” Sprite responded sounding more than a little disgusted.
He noted a few rough looking characters talking down the street. “I would
suggest moving on soon so you don't draw a mob.”

“Good
idea,” he sighed going over to the saloon. He passed through the double doors
then nodded to the heavy weight proprietor behind the counter.

“We're
closed,” the man growled, rubbing at a table with a rag. Irons looked around to
see others in the restaurant bar. It was relatively clean, with brass fittings
that had been polished frequently.

“Interesting,”
he said noting the I love me wall. He went over to and examined the photos.
Most were old and faded. Some were wrinkled, curled or partially burnt. His
enhanced eyes picked out the images in the dark room anyway.

“You
deaf or something?” the man growled. Irons looked back to see the bartender. He
had his hands on his hips. A kid peeked out under a table.

“No,
I  just heard about your wall and wanted to check it out,” the Admiral replied
turning back to the wall. He made sure to get a good look, recording it all.

“See
anyone you know Admiral?” Miss Willis asked from the back of the bar.

“A
few,” he admitted, surprised by her presence.

“How
could he know them? Thought he was the Admiral in Pyrax?” the bartender asked,
wiggling his classic mustache.

“The
Admiral is a sleeper. He's the real deal,” Miss Willis said, getting up and
coming over to the wall. She leaned against a rail, crossing her arms. “A lot
of memories here.”

“Yes,”
Irons sighed. “That there are.” He shook his head. “I see Billy and Davy there.
They were JGs on my staff before the war. Two other people I recognize who
served with me. One I think is Faith. I'm not sure. I'll have to have Sprite do
a visual comparison later to be sure.”

“Ah.
You can see them that well?” the bartender asked curious, coming over. He
tossed the bar rag onto his shoulder and wiped his hands with his stained
apron. The guy was a good size, two meters tall with a slight girth on him but
broad strong shoulders. He probably served as his own bouncer.

“Yes.
The Admiral has implants. He can see just fine. Can't you Admiral?” Miss Willis
said amused. She smiled a whimsical smile his way. Irons turned to her then to
the bartender.

“That
so?”

He
nodded. “Yes.”

“Think
you're stronger than Benny over there?” the bartender asked, pointing to a
broad heavy worlder sitting on a bar stool. The broadly muscled guy turned and
glared.

“I
think I can manage,” Irons smiled. He picked up a  wrought iron poker near the
fire place and twisted it into a pretzel without a sweat. The bartender
blinked, eyes wide.

“Let
me see that,” Benny said. He held out a meaty hand. Irons tossed it to him. He
tried to unbend the metal but gave up. He dropped it shaking his hand and
rubbing his bicep.

The
Admiral went over and picked up the pretzel then straightened it. He used his
fingers to get the last of the bend out. Even Benny was impressed with that
sight. “Sorry,” he shrugged. “Can I buy him a beer anyway?”

“Why?”
the bartender asked, suddenly confused.

“Good
effort,” Irons shrugged. Benny looked to the barkeep. The man sighed.

“I
suppose so,” he said and shook his head. “How you going to pay? We ain't got
electronic banking here.”

The
Admiral smiled a little and fished a gold piece out of his pocket. “Will this
do?” he asked. One of the things he'd held back in his asteroid mining had been
gold. He'd cast them into bars with the image of the Federation flag on them.
It wasn't quite counterfeiting but it did make him a little uncomfortable when
he thought about trying to explain it to a Federation DA sometime. Hopefully
the statute of limitations would run out by then. The way civilization was
shaping up that would be an easy bet. The man's eyes lit at the glitter.
Typical, Irons thought.

“Sure,
sure!” he nodded. He took the piece then went into the back. After a moment he
came back,followed by a woman, she was rather plain, and broad. Her brown hair
was french braided down her back to her rear.. Irons nodded politely to her.
The bartender went over and poured a tap for Benny, then another for Irons. The
beer looked a little flat.

“We're
having trouble with the still again,” she murmured as the Admiral took a sip.
He grimaced. The beer was warm, and didn't have much of a head.  It wasn't
quite love in a small boat beer but it was better than the drinking water most
likely. Which was why small colonies drank it more than water.

He'd
read about that. It went back in time, a historian had pointed out the
connection in one of his college classes. The fermentation of alcoholic
beverages helped to kill the bacteria and bugs that were in the water. But
small colonies that lacked refrigeration had a storage problem. The beer went
flat or bad in hot weather or in less than three standard days.

Just
about everyone drank beer, even the kids. It was the only way to keep from
getting sick from something in the water. Of course it led to all sorts of
health issues... not to mention social issues.

“What's
the problem?” he asked after another sip. They looked at him. “Sorry, couldn't
help overhearing.”

“Not
that it's any of your business,” Benny growled.

“Don't
be that way. The Admiral is an engineer. He can fix anything. Right Admiral?”
Chief Bailey said, coming into the bar. The natives looked at him in surprise.
The double doors were high enough so the chief could have ducked under them if
he had wanted to do so. “I need a beer. He's buying right Admiral?” He slapped
Irons on the back.

“Sure,”
Irons chuckled. He pulled out another gold piece and set it on the bar.

“That'll
buy a weeks worth of food!” the proprietress hissed quietly to her husband.

“Hush
woman,” he whispered to her. He looked at the chimp. “Sure thing, coming up,”
he poured another stout.

“The
Admiral fixed up Destiny good. Even took a look at our still,” the chimp said,
smiling a little as he took a sip. “Dang, you do have issues.” He shook his
head.

“It's
the vats,” the bartender said not looking at them.

“Probably,”
the Admiral nodded. “Sometimes a good cleaning with a bottle brush  is all you
need for a still, and a going over to make sure water vapor isn't getting into
the mash.”

“If
you're a Navy guy, how come you know about stills?” Benny asked, sounding 
suspicious.

Bailey
grinned and laughed. “Hell, ain't a ship out in space that doesn't have a
still! It's a spacer tradition! Right Admiral?” Irons chuckled and nodded. He
took another sip of beer.

“I
can get you some brushes that will work. I also have some gear to give to the
local school. If I can,” He shrugged.

The
man grimaced at that. A little girl came up behind him and yanked on his
jacket. Irons turned to her. She had pigtails and freckles. She looked
infectiously cute with the smudge on one cheek and the blue ruffled dress she
had on. He smiled politely down at her. “Yes? Can I help you?”

“Do
you really like kids?”

“Of
course. I was a dad a long time ago,” Irons said with a nod. “I've also been a teacher.”

“Oh.”

“But
not here right?” a little voice asked from under a table. Bailey glanced under
but the kid hid. He could see him anyway with his sensors. A child, about five
or six years old. The chimp snorted and went back to his beer.

“No.
I'm from off world. I was born in space on a freighter a long, long time ago.”

There
was a rustling of cloth from under the table. “Oh.”

“Wouldn't
it be cool to go up?” the girl asked, turning to the boy. “Billy get out from
under there before you knock the table over. You know what mom said about you
playing under there like that,” she said.

A
little boy came out sheepishly and went to his mother. He held on to her skirt.
He sniffled rubbing his head and brow. He was dressed in brown slacks and a
white shirt. He had black suspenders keeping his drawers up. Their was no belt,
just a draw string tied in a bow at the front. He had moccasins on his feet.

“Sick?”
Bailey asked.

The
mother felt the boy's forehead. “He keeps running a fever.”

“Clean
the place. Get some air and light in here,” Bailey snorted. “Lose the lanterns,
the smoke is bad for you.”

“Bailey,”
Miss Willis sighed. She turned to the barkeeps. “He's not very tactful. Sorry.”

“What?
I'm just sayin',” the chimp shrugged. His shoulders hunched though.

“I
can get you some solar panels and lights. And bleach,” the Admiral suggested.

“Bleach?
Did you say bleach?” the woman said blinking. “I heard of it, but it's so
expensive!”

The
Admiral winced a little. That alone said a great deal about their standard of
industrialization and economy. “It's actually relatively simple to make. I can
give you the formula as well. I've got a container in my shuttle.”

“You've
got your own shuttle? Can I go on it?” the boy asked. The girl nodded, the
parents looked wary.

“Sure,”
Irons nodded. He held up one finger. “Provided you help me drop off some school
supplies and help your mom and dad out for a couple of days. You and oh, maybe
six others and an adult or two can come up.”

“Seriously?”
the girl said jumping up and down. She went to her mom who was looking torn.
“Please, please, please, can we?”

“Your
mom or dad can come if one of them is not too busy. Or an adult who is
available,” Irons said with a shrug. “I was planning on giving the material to
the school and town but the mayor is busy.” He spread his hands helplessly.