Ghost Station (The Wandering Engineer) (120 page)

"Good.
You are both hereby transferred to the reserve as of this moment," he said
with a nod. They saluted again. He sent a mental command to his implants. Codes
transferred to the Warners. Now they would have access to military hardware in
the system. He'd left a few things here and there. Hopefully it would help.

What
he was really doing was covering a base. He hoped that in time they could find
a derelict warship and gain access to it somehow. Apparently Pyrax had been a
graveyard of ships, Antigua didn't have many, but maybe... just maybe they'd
get lucky.

"Good
luck and goddess speed admiral," Warner said.

"Fair
shores and smooth sailing," Rasha said smiling again.

Irons
nodded. "To you both as well. Good luck in this endeavor.” He gave a nod
to the others drifting behind them. The Berkhearts and Stewards were in the
front, Averies and Dr. Trask behind them. "To the rest of you as
well," he said gruffly then stepped through the hatch and was gone. There
was one last good bye to get over with.

“Admiral,
thank you for seeing me,” Hishina Fu said as Irons entered the virtual world.
He paused, watching cherry blossoms drift in the wind. It was a picture perfect
scene, an Asian home complete with rice paper walls and a beautiful mountain.
He turned, hearing the gently burble and occasional slap of wood. A fountain
was nearby, filling with water and then tipping to unload into a basin below.
It was a Shishi Odoshi, a simple bamboo device used to frighten deer away from
manicured gardens but later the sound and motion was considered an element of
change and the passage of time. It's occasional thump and burbling were somehow
soothing.

Irons
was pretty sure the simulation was taking up quite a lot of memory and
processing. It was quite realistic, right down to the fabrics and fluids. If he
didn't know any better he would be confused about reality. He wasn't sure if it
was a recreation of their old home or if it was a restored file.

“Quite
nice,” Irons said politely. “Very peaceful,” he said. Hishina Fu didn't say
anything. The woman indicated the wooden steps to the house. He followed her
and then stopped at the door. Her wooden sandals had disappeared. He took his
virtual shoes off in a show of proper etiquette, setting them outside and then
stepping onto the hardwood floor.

Mrs.
Fu paused when he did, looking back at him. She smiled at his effort of diplomacy
and then looked at her husband. Her husband had paused in his meditation,
raised an eyebrow and then snorted softly. One hand played with his long beard.

Mrs.
Fu indicated the seat across from her husband. When Irons was seated in a
kneeling position she bowed and left them.

“You
respect the old ways,” Yan Fu murmured, stroking the beard. He hadn't expected
that. He'd expected the gaijin to just barge in, make a scene and then leave.
The difference humbled him. He truly had underestimated and misjudged the man.

“I've
been to old Earth a few times,” Irons replied. He wondered if they had planned
a tea ceremony or something. He didn't have the time or inclination to
participate in such matters. He had come here as a courtesy.

“You
are leaving,” Fu said. It wasn't a question; it was a statement of fact. One
apparently Fu was no longer happy about. Irons wondered what had changed in the
cyber.

“Indeed,”
Irons replied, keeping his face neutral.

Fu
continued to stroke the beard but something in his manner made him look
uncomfortable. “I wish you would change your mind,” he said. “We were not meant
to be enemies. I realize that now.”

“Took
you long enough,” Sprite said to Irons. He ignored the jibe.

Yan
Fu continued. “You did well here. I never properly thanked you for what you
have done.”

The
admiral didn't nod but his right index finger twitched. “I am an engineer. It's
what we do. Making things right. I didn't do it for thanks. I did it because it
was the right thing to do.”

“And
your mind is closed to remaining,” Fu murmured.

The
admiral recognized the trap for what it was. A subtle dig at him for not going
with the majority, for not keeping an open mind and conforming. He however had
an easy counter argument. “I am not the only one who's mind has closed to
possibilities. You and I both know I have helped. I cannot help those who have
already made up their minds and closed them to my help. I have done what I can.
My mind is opening to new opportunities elsewhere that is all. It is a big
galaxy.” He smiled politely, waiting.

“And
yet you leave us unfinished,” Fu said. His shoulders stiffened at the mention
of closed minds. The admiral had a way of turning his own words against him. A
worthy man indeed, a master in his own way. He'd finally taken the time to research
the admiral after the admiral had pointed out his own education. He hadn't
known the admiral was a martial arts master. His own prejudicial thoughts
turned to the martial side immediately, but as it turned out the admiral had
learned many of the other founding philosophies as well.

Irons
looked at him patiently. He studied the avatar of Yan Fu. There wasn't a hint
of defiance or anger. No malice. Strangely there was something there,
submission. He wouldn't meet the admiral's eyes. He looked cowed, beaten. That
in itself was unusual the admiral realized. Perhaps he had thought of what was
to come and didn't like it? Had a change in heart?

“I
leave your fate in your own hands as I should,” he said politely, breaking the
silence. “As you insisted I should.”

“We
are not ready. I realize that now,” Fu said quietly.

The
admiral smiled internally at that admission. “It is a mark of maturity that you
have realized that,” the admiral replied quietly after a long moment. “You have
chafed and rebelled despite my attempts to help and guide you. I understand the
analogy now, the parental one the Berkhearts had pointed out to me months ago.
They tried to get me to see it from that perspective and change my priorities
in accordance to that view. You yourself pointed it out to me. I have been a
parent. A parent must step back and allow his child to grow and stand on his
own feet. To let them fall if they will, and learn to pick themselves up once
they have. To learn for themselves just how the universe truly works. It is a
cold hard lesson but it is one that must be learned by stepping aside. I am
doing that here.”

Fu
didn't say anything, just stroked his beard some more. Irons... he was humbled
again. The admiral truly was a master. He was also determined to leave; words
would not sway him from the path he had chosen. “Will you return?” he finally
asked.

The
admiral shifted slightly in a slight shrug. “I don't know where the winds of
fate and time will take me. Perhaps. Then again, perhaps not. The fates will
take me where they may; I am but a leaf in their wind.”

Fu
bowed slightly, completely undone. “Spoken as a true master,” he said, voice
shaking slightly.

Irons
didn't say anything, he just waited patiently. The hand stroking the beard
stopped and shook a little. He wasn't sure if it was theater or not. “Your ship
is ready to depart?” Fu finally asked.

“It
is. I am on my way out bound now,” he said with a slight nod. “I'll have to cut
this short. The time lag will become a problem shortly.”

Yan
Fu nodded. “Indeed. We,
I
, wish you well admiral. Good luck and
Godspeed. You go with our thanks and our sincere apology for our behavior.”

“Thank
you,” Irons said, bowing. He stood and bowed again as the old man made a
dismissive wave of a hand.

“Go.
And good luck.”

“I'm
an engineer. We make our own,” Irons replied and left.

"So,
he really did it. Talk about holding a grudge,” Shandra said shaking her head
and setting the wine glass down. She'd half expected Irons to go, but she
hadn't been sure. She had hoped that the admiral would sulk for a bit and then
set up shop somewhere in the system away from the others and build something or
other. Apparently it was not to be.

Men
and their pride, she mused, watching the icon of the little ship retreat
towards the jump point. Always the pride with them. Speaking of men and their
pride... She looked over her shoulder to see the main display holo of the
admiral's ship departing the station. “I told you so,” she said turning to her
husband.

"Petulance,"
Jeff Randall said grudgingly, shaking his head as he set his own glass down.
The election was scheduled for next week. He was a shoe in for the
governorship. The polls had him with a clear double digit lead over the
competition. His competitors were already making noises about an appropriate
cabinet position if they threw their support his way. He was letting them stew
for the moment. Some of the muckraking they had done in the press had really
rankled him.

His
staff was making the most hay out of the admiral's hasty retreat as they could
but the opposition members were starting to point out how he'd run an honorable
man, a man who has done a great deal for everyone and they had instead slapped
him and then ran him out of town. An undercurrent of resentment for the
underdog had changed hands. It was starting to sink in that he'd run a decent
man, the man responsible for their new Renaissance out of the system. The
architect of their bright new future. His staff people said they were on top of
that but he was pretty sure it wasn't going to work out well. Spin control
never worked the way you hoped or planned when it was against you. Not when the
people knew you were spinning something.

It
was easier when he was the underdog and Irons was the authority to rail
against. But many were pointing out that Irons never
exercised
that
authority. He had never been a tyrant even though Randall had been quick to
label him as such. It was annoying how fickle the media was, first piling it on
and now turning on him.

Sandra
shook her head mournfully. "It's not petulance when you're slapped down
repeatedly and told to heel like a dog. He's a grown man, set in his ways. He's
used to getting things done his way or the navy way, which is tantamount to the
same thing. It's both pride and common sense. He's getting out to find
something else."

"I..."
Randall grimaced, clearly irritated. He knew better than to take that
irritation out on his wife. It galled him that she was right. He should be used
to it by now he mused; she was normally right after all.

"I
don't feel right about this. We shouldn't be allowing him to leave. He's the
key to everything," he grumbled. He realized that now. Irons had vision,
he had the ability to not only see the big picture but actually put the pieces
in motion to get what he wanted done. And what he had done in the past six and
a half months! He realized that now. He also knew now that Irons had all the
replicator keys. All of them, or at least all that mattered. He was a master
key, the only one left in the universe. Damn the man for his short sighted over
weening pride!

"You're
damn right he is! He holds the keys to unlock all the ancient tech.
All
of it. Everything. You should have seen that sooner, but you were too blind to
it. Too short sighted,” his wife said hugging him.

 He
glared at her. She glared right back. She wasn't about to back down, no matter
how many titles he had or was about to have. He admired her all the more for
it. "You know I'm telling the truth Jeff," she growled eyes flashing
dangerously.

"I
know," he sighed, shaking himself. He didn't need a marital spat.
Especially when he was on the losing side. He also didn't need the opposition
hearing about it. He tried to hide a mental snort. She was usually right
anyway. He'd just taken his time seeing it this round. Now that he was getting
a handle on what the governorship really entailed he had come to realize how
badly they needed Irons. He didn't want to admit that he should have listened
to the man. "It's just..." he started to explain. He knew it was futile
though. He was explaining to someone who already knew.

"We
couldn't stop him if we'd tried. And you did try remember that? The court thing
was..."

He
grimaced, running a hand through his hair. That had blown up in his face. He'd
thought the judge would have seen reason. So much for that idea. The man had
stubbornly clung to the letter and spirit of the law. He had to grudgingly
admit that was probably a good thing for the long term. Grudgingly though, he
still was uncomfortable about admitting he had been in error. "I wish he
had more patience," he growled.

She
threw her head back and laughed. He looked at her in surprise. Her eyes caught
his and sparkled as she smiled a little. "Patience? He's a
Fleet
Admiral
of the
Federation
silly! You don't get there by many short
cuts and by being impatient me bucko! He's got patience by the bucket load! He
put in his time at each rank, rising on his merit and
earning
his
titles. Eighty years in the navy, seventy as an officer. No, he knows a losing
hand when he sees one and isn't willing to throw good money after bad and waste
his time."

"What
do you mean?" Randall asked, pursing his lips.