Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer) (10 page)

“Fat Larry?” Irons asked.

“Never you mind that,” the deputy said crossly, glaring at the
judge in exasperation before ratcheting down the voltage when he realized his
target. Albert turned his head and spat again and then worked his jaw. Rogers
kicked the mugger onto his stomach and then knelt on top of him, using
antiquated iron cuffs to lock his hands behind him.

“He'll probably be out at least another ten or fifteen minutes. If
you'd like to get additional witness statements I can watch him for you
deputy,” Irons offered.

“That won't be necessary,” the deputy said, getting up. He brushed
off his knees. “Bert here is the local judge.”

“Oh?” Irons asked, turning to the witness. The old man nodded
smugly. “District judge?” he asked diplomatically.

“Chief jurist of the county for my sins,” the old man said,
reaching out a gnarled weathered hand. “Please to meet you admiral.”

Irons shook hands with the old man and then nodded. “Likewise,” he
said politely. “I have the entire incident on record if you want me to upload
it,” he suggested.

The deputy blinked. “You do?”

“Yes but I can't find a place to send it too,” the admiral said
and then shrugged. “I'm...”

“Enhanced,” the judge said, nodding, eyes now hooded. “I take it
with sensors too. We don't take kindly to invasions of privacy around these
parts son,” he said in a warning tone.

“Not my intention your honor. I am a Federation officer though, so
I'm required by
federal
law. And an incident of this nature...” Irons
shrugged.

“Well, it does tend to make sure no one can dispute the facts,”
Deputy Rogers replied, nodding.

The admiral reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a flash
chip. He felt Sprite copy the data and transfer it through his fingers to the
chip. He handed it over to the deputy. “Here you go sir, a complete record of
the incident up to a moment ago.” He'd learned a while back to keep a supply of
memory sticks in his pockets of occasions like this. Normally he or Sprite
dumped basic stuff like 'How To' directions or the Encyclopedia. But it served
for this purpose as well.

“Why thank you,” the deputy said, blinking and taking the chip.
“I'll use this as your statement, not that it'll be required.”

“If any more is needed you can contact the port. I'm traveling on
the Phoenix so they can contact me.”

“That's right neighborly of you,” the judge said, nodding. He
indicated that the admiral could go with a finger. Irons nodded.

“If there is anything more?” he asked formally. The deputy shook
his head. He turned, waving to the people around.

“I'll need witness statements from those of you around...”
Suddenly the street started to thin out as people who didn't want to be
involved hastily retreated.

“Well, that's one way to get rid of the lookie looes,” the judge
said with a laugh. “I'll give you a hand getting this piece of garbage to jail
Roy. That way you can get back to your beat,” he said, leaning over to grab a
shoulder.

The deputy grabbed the other shoulder and they pulled the guy up.
“Sure thanks judge. I'm covering Walley since he's  out sick. Though between
you and me I think he's more interested in his nurse than in getting better...
.if you know what I mean,” he said voice dropping into a mischievous grin.

The judge chuckled and then snorted. Irons shook his head and
walked off. He turned once to see the two men dragging the suspect down the
road chatting. Irons shook his head again and then continued on his way.

“Well!” Sprite said in disgust. “That's what they think of as the
local law?”

“It takes all kinds Sprite. Now, we were supposed to be heading to
the port to get that order down....”

“Yes and we're going to be running late if you don't hustle
admiral.”

“Understood,” he replied, lengthening his stride as he picked up
the pace.

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

Helen Richards got word of the trade with the ships later in the
day. She was disinterested at first, she knew most of it would just go to line
the pockets of the rich corrupt commissioners. She was however surprised though
that some of it was earmarked for medical.

“What gives?” she asked staring at the entry. She'd requested
materials, she always did. And she was of course always denied. Or at least
denied what she really wanted. Her eyes goggled at the list. She'd already
gotten a ton of data, someone had sent a packet of data to her servers. The IT
department was currently screening it for the usual viruses and such. So far
they'd reported it was all clean.

“Someone sure likes us doc,” Nurse Marlone replied, shaking her
head. She adjusted her hat when she felt it slip. She was old school,
preferring her Victorian nursing outfit over the new fashion outfits the new
crop of medics were wearing. She brushed a wrinkle out of her apron and stood
there patiently.

Helen Richards was a good doctor, a good administrator too. She'd
do well to continue keeping her hand in medicine though, which she was doing
Marlone thought with hidden approval. Richards was young for her rank, only
forty four, but she was talented. She'd risen through the ranks and surpassed
all in spectacular leaps as she doggedly dug up medical technology and
practices from the past and then rammed them back into practice. Her
recommendation by doctors Pratt and Whitney had gone a long way to getting her
the job.

Of course the last crisis had played a factor in that as well.
Thousands had been sick from dysentery and other maladies when a hurricane had
devastated the eastern coastline. Refugees had been gathered in miserable
pockets on storm destroyed farms only to start getting sick from the poor
conditions. Epidemics had ravaged a couple of the camps. Richards had taken a
deep breath and waded into the fight to save as many as she could.

She'd had some resistance at first but when one saw a patient
suffering you didn't quibble over the source of material or knowledge that let
you ease or end that pain. Richards was talented in that, she was diligent in
applying local medicine as well as old skills and appliances. She'd overseen
the overhaul of every hospital and clinic on the planet.

She could be ruthless with supplies and didn't take well to those
who got in her way. Her green eyes were lively to her patients but many knew the
hidden steel in their depths.

Of course when Helen had been nominated many of the old guard who
had clung to the old ways had protested, resigned, or retired. Helen had at
first tried to talk some of the more venerated doctors out of it, but had in
the end sighed and let them choose their own path. Their going had made way for
the new crop Richards had opened the door too. Thousands had answered the call
to learn how to become a medic.

She was a good teacher too, Marlone thought, smiling slightly as
the doctor toyed with the clipboard. Tough but fair, stern to her students and
fellow medical staff but an angel of mercy to those she helped. In other words,
the ideal doctor.

“Someone does,” the doctor finally answered, staring at the
clipboard. Marlone flinched, grimacing over her woolgathering. It wasn't proper
to do so in the presence of the boss after all.

Helen didn't notice, she was too intent on the list. There were
all sorts of things here, things she'd expected someone to snatch up and sell
on the black market. She'd have to send someone to oversee the delivery or it
would be diverted. “The Io 11? The Phoenix? I don't recall that ship name,” she
said when she checked who was providing the material. She was surprised they
could.

“I think they're new,” Marlone replied with a shrug. “Will there
be anything else doctor?” she asked pointedly. After all, she had other duties
to perform before her shift ended.

Helen waved her away without looking up. She heard the click of
the lock as the door closed and sat back in her chair with a sigh. She set the
clipboard down and stared off at the ceiling. “What's your game ...?” She
asked. She looked back at the clipboard. “...Admiral Irons?” she turned,
rocking her chair gently. “What are you up to and more importantly, why Irons.”

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

In orbit the admiral picked up the first consignment of trade
goods with Io and talked with Io's AI. Io offered to trade raw and processed
material for data and key access. Irons was amused. “What does the purser say?”
he asked.

Io's avatar smiled. “This is for engineering. I know you don't
want to go rock hunting now admiral.”

“Oh?”

“Well...”

“Let me guess, Sprite and Phoenix were telling tales out of school
again,” he drawled. Io snorted over the radio link. She had matured a great
deal since he'd last seen her, picked up some more human mannerisms. He nodded.
“You and they are right.”

“It's not that you don't want my company,” Phoenix said. The
admiral turned to the AI camera.

“Not at all Phoenix, it's just a lot of hard, dangerous work
wrangling rocks. If they've got it already... what do you want for it? What
sort of data?” he asked suspiciously.

“Data and permissions. I want to make some fusion reactor and
hyperdrive parts. Some for myself, some for trade, and some for the ship we're
building,” Io replied.

“Interesting,” the admiral mused. He rubbed his jaw for a moment
and then held up a finger. “Strictly civilian grade. I take it you want some of
the design data we picked up on Destiny and in Antigua?”

“That would be great!” Io said. “I keep telling them making a
smaller freighter is better.”

“Okay,” he said nodding. “Starting small with a project like this
is good. Did they get scaffolding up?”

“No. Faith...” Io stopped. He smiled. Technically Io was a
military AI, the first AI Sprite created. She was in many ways a true daughter
of Athena, a daughter of pure intellect.

“Loyalty to your chief engineer and crew is admirable. In this
case misplaced. She should know better. Having scaffolding up protects the crew
by providing a place to hang your lights and support for the various pieces you
are trying to put together. It will also make the job go faster, and if they
add netting it could stop a Dutchman incident,” he explained.

“That's... that's been a concern. We're using bots and shuttles
and the ship for lighting. The captain wants to keep the ship parts low key.
Nothing to give it away when we aren't around.”

“You don't want someone coming by and taking it. I fully
understand. I take it you're stockpiling generic parts right now?” he asked.
Io's holo image nodded. “Right. Life support, EPS ducts, computer components,
and on and on. Good for you,” he said in approval. The AI smiled. He went
through his files and brought up several suggestions. Io nodded.

“Of course I'll have to run this by the captain and senior staff,”
Io said. Io's image sighed in exasperation before she reluctantly nodded.

The admiral smiled slightly. “Of course. And if you want me to
make the parts I need the raw materials here on
my
ship. At least the
small parts. Anything larger than my little replicator and well...” He
shrugged.

“You could come here...” Io suggested.

The admiral thought that over for a moment and then shrugged.
“We'll see. Let's see what I can do with what we've got.”

“I'm running this past the captain in a few minutes. I'll
hopefully have an answer for you in an hour admiral.”

“No problem,” the admiral replied. “It was nice talking with you
Io,” he said smiling slightly.

“And you Admiral, safe sailing,” she said and disconnected the
line.

“Think they'll go for it?” Sprite asked.

“Maybe,” Irons replied.

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

An hour later they got the go ahead from the captain. The admiral
received his notice when Hibiki's shuttle showed up on the lidar diverting to
them. Irons snorted at the lack of protocol but let the young man dock to the
universal docking port on the dorsal side of the ship. He even gave the young
man a quick tour as the robots and Tara unloaded. He sent back the first
consignment with the young man.

“Thanks admiral. We didn't know about the... well you know...”
Hibiki said. He meant the stingy supply and the small amount the admiral had on
hand in return.

“I did warn the captain. Say, where's your partner?” Irons asked.

Hibiki rolled his eyes. “Sleeping I hope. She's... a terror.
Especially now that she wants to have a baby of her own.”

“And you're just the guy she wants to be the father,” Irons said
with a chuckle, patting the lad on the shoulder. “If you aren't ready just take
your time. Talk with the doctor about contraceptives if you have to.”

Hibiki blinked and then looked thoughtful. “You know, that's not a
bad idea. I'll talk with her when I get back.”

“If Dorah doesn't ambush you the moment you're out of the lock
when you return...” Irons said with a grin.

Hibiki blinked. “Crap,” he breathed. “Can I stay here with you?”
he asked, eyes wide with fright. The admiral laughed. “Seriously, the last time
I was gone for more than two hours I was saddle sore for days when she was
through with me!”