Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer) (4 page)

There were a dozen or so hangers, most were wooden structures. A
few looked rotten. There was a small building for passenger check in and
another next door for customs. The tower nearby was painted in red and white
but looked functional, with big broad windows.

The port also served as a local and regional airport so it made
sense to have it not only functional but staffed full time. He was glad; it
meant he could feel secure about leaving his shuttle behind unattended. Even if
he did have to pay exorbitant fees for landing, fuel, and parking.

Hazard had a temperate climate reminiscent of North America with
its pine and deciduous trees. The road leading to Hazard City had willow trees
lining it for some reason.

The roads were a mix of dirt, gravel, and cement; it looked like
the cement roads didn't hold up well, a road crew was out working on them at
just about every intersection. The work crews had Hodges embroidered on the
back of their uniforms.

...*...*...*...*...

Hazard itself wasn't much to look at; on the periphery were
western style one or two story brick or wood structures. Most were painted in
bland colors, with the general store's bright canary yellow being the
exception. Closer to the center of the city more modern buildings could be found.
Hazard was a new city, one founded after the fall so it was bootstrapping
itself from the ground up.

According to Sprite's briefing, Hazard had been a town up until
about sixty years ago. A small Podunk town before the port had been relocated
nearby to it. Now it was growing, not without some growing pains. It had a very
high crime rate, something he wasn't happy about. Of course it wasn't his
problem, but there was always the occasional mugger... too bad for the mugger
if he tangled with him the admiral thought with a slight smirk. He could use a
decent work out right about now. He hadn't had one in months. He rolled his
shoulders slightly in anticipation.

...*...*...*...*...

Irons looked around, soaking the spirit of the community in. There
were dozens of species here, Humans, aliens, and Neos. They tended to cluster
in their own species, but here and there he could see some who were obviously
friends or colleagues of other species occasionally getting together for a
friendly chat or a wave hello in passing. It was good to see. It never failed
to amuse him though that the colony had backslid so far. From what records
Sprite had picked up they hadn't backslid too far, but hadn't picked up either.
That was unusual in a way; with the core worlds gone you'd think somewhere a
world or two would pick up and become the new center of things. Apparently with
populations so sparse they were only now starting to cluster.

Sprite cleared her virtual throat. He frowned, eyes still roving
the area. She wanted something and he wasn't sure he wanted to deal with it
just yet. When Sprite ahem-ed, he sighed softly. “What is it commander?”

“Look to your left admiral,” she said quietly. A red arrow blinked
on his HUD. He turned in the indicated direction.

“What am I looking at?” he finally asked when the arrow stopped.
It moved up and then pointed down to a Neo tiger, an aged Neo tiger missing a
leg. He had a stump of a crude artificial replacement and freshly healed scars
on body and face.

“He's certainly been through the wars hasn't he?” Irons asked.

“He and yes, war definitely,” Sprite replied. The Neo turned,
feeling someone looking at him. Irons breath caught as he saw the reflection of
metal, plastic, and glass on the Neo's right eye and arm. The eye rim was
aluminum with a primitive camera lens. The arm was artificial from mid bicep
down, cradled against the cat's side. He could see broken bits in between the
tiger striped ripped outer shell.

“Xeno war?”

“Most likely,” Sprite replied quietly. Irons studied the Neo,
knowing it was rude but for once not caring. The Neo had scars over the right
side of his body, some old, some fresh and barely healed. He was aged, a
century or more of real time in his life... most likely near the end of his
life cycle from the white in his fur and film over his eyes. He'd lost a lot of
fur, most of it on the right side. The left side had fared better but was still
scared, he had scars across his arm and hand and left side of his chest. Irons
could see a cable running across his chest, and a gold necklace peeking out
under the fur. His interest was definitely piqued.

The Tiger's muzzle wrinkled in a half snarl. He raised the muzzle,
scenting the air and grimacing. Irons caught the sight of an aluminum fang on
the right side before the tiger turned and left without a blink.

“Where the hell did he go?” Irons asked, starting to move as he
uncrossed his arms.

“The bar admiral,” Sprite said as Irons trotted across the street.
His feet hit the wood boardwalk serving as the front of some of the buildings
and a primitive sidewalk. Sprite's karat pointed to an open saloon door.
“Admiral a word of caution,” she started to say just as he entered the bar,
pushing his way through the swinging double doors.

His eyes immediately adjusted to the darker space. The room wasn't
just darker for ambiance; most Neo's had good night vision and preferred the
dark over a brightly lit sterile room. Wonder of wonders the room had power,
with electric lights and a lit jukebox in the corner. His nostrils flared at
the scent of various Neos in the room. There were dozens of most of the common
species. The patrons became instantly quiet and turned to look at him with
various looks of interest and contempt.

The Neo gorilla bartender stared at him, still holding a bar rag.
Irons nodded politely his way, disinterested in him. “This is a Neo bar,” the
scared and aged gorilla behind the bar growled. Irons nodded to the silverback.
He had a bit of a braided beard with a gold ring on the tip.

“Sorry, saw someone here I was curious about,” he said, turning
his head for a moment as he scanned the room, first looking for threats and
then his prey. He didn't pick up on him on first look but knew Sprite would
process the video and find him. The eyes saw more than the brain processed he
thought. The silverback however chuffed in annoyance. He went over and dropped
a silver coin on the bar and then turned, locking onto the familiar sight of
the yellow Neo tiger. The tiger had his back to him and was talking with a blue
Neo lion sitting in a corner booth. The tiger moved, at first leaning over the
table and then taking a seat when his artificial leg bothered him.

Sprite scanned the room, noting that the tiger had a limited Wi-Fi
link but it wasn't sending a proper response. It did have a military transponder
though. The jukebox also had a Wi-Fi link she noted in passing.

“Hank, please man, I need it fixed!” the tiger said, indicating
his eye.

The blue Neo lion shook his head mournfully. “I'm sorry Nohar, I
don't have the parts anymore, I wish I did. I just don't. No one but Pyrax
makes them,” the blue Neo-lion replied, pushing up a pair of goggles on his
head. Irons snorted softly as he approached their booth. Both Neo's froze and
turned to look at him.

“Who the hell is he?” Hank whispered.

“How the hell should I know?” Nohar growled eyes on the human
intruder. He like all the other Neo's knew better than to molest a human. Boss
Hodges had more than enough pelts on his wall and floor from Neo's that were
that fatally stupid.

“You're the detective!” Hank growled. “Former client?” Hank asked,
eying the man.

“Not likely, though he does look familiar,” Nohar replied,
studying Irons. He noted the military coverall and his good eye widened as that
registered. He winced when too much light made the artificial eye go mad
briefly.

“We don't want any trouble here mister,” the bartender rumbled.
Irons turned to him.

“I'm not here to cause trouble. I saw someone like me and wanted
to talk.”

“There isn't anyone here like you. No humans,” a young striped Neo
lion sitting on a bar stool nearby growled. Irons turned to him. He was hunched
over his beer, tail flicking about, ears flat. “Best you leave little man,” he
growled with a hint of subsonics in it.

“In a bit,” Irons replied affably, not for the moment put off as
he turned back and nodded to the tiger. The elderly tiger straightened, seeming
to sigh. He was pretty sure his adopted nephew Rajar wasn't going to dissuade
this character so easily. If his hunch was right no one in this room could. The
blue lion looked at him and started to ease away from the tiger, rolling up a
set of tools on a cloth that had been on the table.

“Working on something?” Irons asked, coming over. “Can I get you a
drink?” Irons asked, nodding to both Neo's.

Nohar's eyes studied him. His ears flicked in amusement over the
human's nonchalant bravery. “You don't even smell of fear,” he finally growled.

Irons snorted. “Why? It's a nice bar.” He turned and waved to it.
A pair of otters in a nearby booth looked up and chattered a laugh.

“You aren't afraid of me? Of us?” Nohar asked, ears flicking in
amusement. He was fairly sure why the man wasn't. The guy moved like he was
ex-military, definitely not an imposter. The cover said navy, the gold leaves
on top said high rank. That was interesting. He didn't truck with squids
though.

“I've had Neo's serve with me over the years,” the admiral
replied, shrugging. That statement made many growl subconsciously provoking bad
feelings in the room. “Served
under
a few Neo commanders too. You have
the look of someone who served. Were you ground forces or Marines? Sorry but
you don't have the look of Navy.”

“Army,” the tiger replied automatically as his eyes widened in
surprise. His eyes slitted even more and his ears were back as he turned
carefully to show the ranger tattoo on his left arm. “501
^st
.”

“Damn,” Irons replied nodding. “One of the best.”

“The best during the war, the best ever,” the tiger automatically
replied, lips curling slightly. Irons realized the burns; it had to be plasma
burns had chewed up some of the tiger's right lip exposing the teeth there. His
face and entire right side was scared, the fur only patched or thin on that
side. The missing right leg was new though. It looked like it had been
amputated below the knee.

“Well, I had friends in the 82nd who might have disagreed with
that but that was then,” the admiral replied with a snort. “Plasma?” he asked
cocking his head. He'd be damned if he ignored or dialed back his own
curiosity. Cats weren't the only ones known for it.

“Corona caught me,” the tiger replied, sniffing him again.
“Sleeper?”

“Yes,” Irons replied. “Fleet admiral John Henry Irons” Irons
replied, right hand extended.

“Don't expect me to pop to attention,” Nohar snorted, eyes flaring
briefly. “The war was a long time ago. Sir.” His eyes flicked down to the
extended hand. After a moment he shook it. Irons had been known as a straight
shooter during the war, honest and an engineer, more into the nuts and bolts of
things over playing politics. He was not particularly well known for his
battles, more known for his occasional heroism before and during the war. He'd
disappeared seven hundred... slowly he nodded and then flicked his ears. Yes,
that Irons. Irons was more famous, or should he say, infamous now than before
the war, mainly because of the events in Pyrax.

“You know this character?” Hank asked. Irons flicked a glance to
him as the handshake broke.

“Yeah, heard of him,” Nohar admitted. His mind whirled over this
event. What were the odds?

“What's wrong with your arm?” Irons asked indicating the
artificial one. It was crude, with torn wires inside. The plastic cover plate
had been painted to match the tiger's fur, but it was now scared and tore up as
if someone had clawed it. The central structure looked a lot like a real bicep
bone. Many of the wires and hoses had been taped a few too many times.

“Not just the arm, the eye, ear, and other implants too,” Hank
replied before Nohar could reply. Irons looked at Nohar's right ear. There was
an antenna sticking out of the ragged tip. Tiger's had large ears, his right
ear was half of what it should be he realized.

“Hard to keep them up in this climate? Or time?” Irons asked
sympathetically.

“Both. And parts are bloody expensive,” Nohar growled, flicking a
look of disgust to the prosthetic mechanic.

Hank spread his hands. Irons noticed the small tools in his hands.
The lion was fiddling with something even while they talked. A plate of meat
was sitting next to him, untouched. The beer stein was half empty though.

“Hank McCoy, genius repairman, meet Admiral Irons hero of the
Federation,” Nohar said, nodding to the admiral. Irons snorted.

“Pleased to meet you,” Hank said quietly, eyes flaring wide.

“May I?” Irons asked indicating the arm.

“You think you can do something?” Hank asked snorting. “The UART
won't respond. It's all screwed up.”

“Really?” Irons asked, right hand out. “You plugged into another
port? Run a bypass?”

“They only rigged the one,” Hank sighed in disgust. “It was fouled
with gunk after he rolled through something in an alley or sewer. The micro
wiring is all messed up.”