Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer) (27 page)

He looked up to see Deputy Rogers waiting patiently nearby. Irons
raised an eyebrow to the young man. He shrugged, not looking at all comfortable
in his uniform. Irons wasn't sure if it was the outfit or the heat. Finally
Rogers pointed his baton to Irons and then to himself.

Irons got up and dusted his hands off. He murmured goodbyes to his
fellow picnickers and then went to Rogers.

“Something on your mind deputy?” he asked.

“I've been ordered to escort you. Someone wants to talk to you,”
Rogers said, sounding uncomfortable.

“No problem deputy, lead the way?” Irons asked.

“No, I'll guide you,” Rogers said, pointing the billy club towards
the restaurants a few blocks away. Irons could image who he was being led to.

“Why the outfit?” Irons asked, turning slightly to look at the
deputy. Rogers snorted, still waving a hand. People around them split apart,
making a hole for them to pass through.

“What this?”

“I'm curious about the British thing.”

Roy grunted. “It's so we can stand out between the Sheriff.”

“Ah, I noticed it's all hands on deck. Reservists and volunteers
too huh?”

“Pretty much,” Rogers replied warily.

“To be expected. You know I've been around the block a few times,”
the admiral replied with a disarming smile. “But still, the jump from western
wear to...”

“A bobby?” Rogers asked and then laughed.” We had western wear
too, even wore black hats and all, but the sheriff...” he shrugged. “We tried
white hats but they kept getting stained. Hodges didn't like the cleaning bill
so this.”

“Black goes with everything,” the admiral replied with a nod. “And
stains are easily hidden," he said, clearly amused. He vaguely remembered
something about not letting them see you sweat or bleed.

“Something like that,” Rogers replied, indicating he take the next
left turn. People were out everywhere, dancing and having a grand old time.

“I like the bobby ole chap,” Rogers hammed, tapping his hat with
his billy club. The admiral chuckled.

“History buff?” he asked.

“How did you guess?” Rogers said, pointing down another street.
Irons dutifully turned in the indicated direction. “My mother is the curator of
the history museum and stage and screen club of Crater City.”

“I haven't been there yet,” the admiral mused. “Interesting.”

“Yes, she named me for some character in one of her favorite
western films. I've got a brother named Audrey.”

“Okay...”

“Boss Hodges got a kick out of this uniform. Want to see my
Keystone cop impression?” Irons turned to see the deputy hunch up and waddle,
spinning the billy club. He used a finger to pretend he had a mustache. The
admiral snorted and then chuckled. The deputy's face creased into a grin as he straightened.
“I think you are one of the few people who really appreciate that,” he said.

“Well, I'm not quite
that
old! I just feel like it
sometimes,” the admiral replied with a laugh. He continued on his way. “So, you
grew up in theater?”

“Ayup, how'd you guess?”

“Voice. You've got a trained voice,” the admiral replied.

“Why thank you, I sing too,” Rogers replied. Irons was curious if
the man had had a beer or two before coming on duty. He was definitely loose.
“Nice,” Irons replied.

“You just like me for my horse,” Rogers teased. “And my dog
buddies Bullet and Phantom.”

“Bullet? Phantom?” For some reason Rogers liked to ramble. That
thought made Irons wince a little.

“Bullet is a Neo Alsatian in Crater City. He's a deputy like me.
Phantom is a game ranger up north.”

“Good to know, I'll remember that,” Irons replied, bobbing a nod.
“Do you perform here? Off duty I mean.”

“No, the sheriff didn't like it. Said it undermined my authority
and his. But I'm president of the book and film club of Hazard.” He tipped his
hat slightly. Irons nodded.

Rogers escorted him to a restaurant, really a hole in the wall
with a faded picture of a Terran boar and the name 'Boars Nest' just above the
door.

Rogers nodded to another black haired but slightly pudgy deputy
with Hodges on his lapel pin and waved the admiral over to an occupied booth. A
fat silver haired human got up and wiped at his mouth with a red napkin and
they shook hands. The man was short, barely a hundred and fifty-one centimeters
and his silver hair was balding. He had impressive jowls and a double chin but
small piercing eyes. He was dressed in a white suit complete with a white tie.
“You that admiral they've been talking about?” he asked. The admiral nodded.

“Fleet Admiral John Henry Irons...”

“Commissioner Jefferson Davis Hodges,” Sprite supplied in his ear.

“Commissioner Hodges. It's nice to meet you,” the admiral said
without missing a beat, bowing slightly.

“He goes by JD,” Sprite supplied. “But it's best to stick to
formalities admiral, stroke his ego,” the AI suggested, aware he needed to be
on his best behavior. The admiral nodded slightly.

“Good, good,” the fat man said, slapping his arm and chuckling.
“Good! Call me Boss or Boss Hodges will you? Everyone does. It's a tradition in
these parts.” Irons hid a wince, there was some strength in that slap, Hodges
worked out. There was a distinct southern drawl in his voice too, something he
must have picked up in his youth somewhere.

“I see,” the admiral said smiling. He noted a few toughs in the
room and another deputy.

“Cletus,” Boss said and then turned. “This is my second cousin
Cletus. Get the man a chair will you?” he said to the deputy.

Irons watched the deputy bob a nod and scurry away.

“It's good to be a boss,” the admiral observed.

“It is isn't it?” the boss laughed heartily. “So, I heard you had
a run in with Lazarrian.”

“He and I had a problem.”

“I know. I told him to fix it and leave you alone,” the
commissioner replied, now all business. His eyes glittered. “Not much passes in
my county without me knowing about it.”

“And getting a cut of the profits of course,” Sprite interjected
in the admiral's ear.

“Ah,” the admiral said nodding.

“You're doing wonders for our poor planet,” Boss said as Cletus
arrived with the chair. The admiral bobbed a nod of thanks as the boss sat in a
barber's chair. “Sit, sit!” he urged.

The admiral sat and they talked for a bit. The fat man ate. The
admiral smiled and took an appetizer and a beer. They exchanged pleasantries
and then he realized that the boss was feeling him out.

“So this casino thing...”

“You are no doubt in better position to regulate and set it in
motion commissioner,” the admiral replied. He explained the workings of it and
then discussed regulating industry, commerce, and other things. Finally he
dumped a lot of what they had discussed onto a flash stick and then pulled it
out of his pocket.

The fat man reared back and then laughed and took it with his
pudgy fingers. “Heard about this too! My thanks,” he said chuckling,
brandishing the device.

“I don't mind helping people Boss, if they do better, it'll
hopefully trickle down.”

“I see that,” the boss said nodding, eyes narrowed.

“And of course those interested get a helping hand. Upward,” the
admiral said with a slight smile. The commissioner’s eyes gleamed.

“Yes,” he said putting the chip away and rubbing his hands. “I'd
love to be governor someday. I'll look this over very carefully young man.”

“Thank you commissioner. I'll be around if you need me.”

“Sure thank you Admiral.” The admiral nodded. They got up, shook
hands and then the boss had Cletus show him out.

Outside he found Roy standing guard by the door. He snorted softly
and came over. “Now what?”

“Now you will hopefully no longer have any more problems,” Roy
answered. “At least not from Larry.”

“Good. Very good. Thank you Deputy Rogers,” the admiral replied.

“Sure thing. Hey if you see two fellas in an orange vehicle let me
know will you? The sheriff's hot on them for some reason or other.”

“I'll... um, keep that in mind.”

“Thanks,” the man said smiling and shaking hands with him. “Don't
be too surprised if that meal is charged to your ship.”

Irons chuckled and shook his head. “I'd be surprised if it
wasn't,” he replied walking off into the crowd.

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

When he returned to the motel the frumpy looking woman at the
front desk waved him over. “Sir, this message came in for you a little while
ago,” she said, handing him a yellow slip of paper.

He thanked her absently as he took it and scanned it. Apparently
he had received a call from the space port, someone had tried to break into his
shuttle. Worried about the mob he checked with Phoenix. “Admiral, no one has
gotten within a dozen meters of the shuttle in the past twenty four hours,”
Phoenix replied.

“Huh,” Irons said, a little confused before he looked down at the
note once more. Suddenly he was a bit suspicious.

“Trap?”  Sprite asked.

“Possibly. They could have someone in the port send this out to
every motel and hotel to see if I'd respond.”

“The mob knows you're here admiral, remember who owns this town?”
Sprite reminded him.

“True,” Irons replied. “Can we call them?” he asked.

“I can put a call in and charge it to your account sir,” the hotel
manager said.

He looked up to her and smiled. “No, I've got that covered,
thanks,” he said wandering off. He didn't want the line to be traced.

“Connecting to Phoenix, bouncing the signal. I am routing the call
through the network of microcomputers you've distributed here in case someone
attempts to trace the signal. The phone is ringing,” Sprite said.

“Hello?” a voice asked, sounding both bored and slightly drunk.
“Who is this?”

“Who is this? I'm calling the shuttle port? I was informed someone
attempted to break into my shuttle?” Irons asked.

“Oh you, yeah, someone was here asking about you. Sheriff took
care of the guy who got out on the field. It was a nut job looking for either a
joy ride or asylum, I don't know, quite frankly don't care.”

“Really.”

“Believe it or not this isn't the guy's first time. Him or his
girlfriend. Wanted to impress his girl and hop to another city or something.
We'll get the story out of them when they sober up.”

“Okay.”

“At least I think it was him and her. I missed it. I miss all the
good shit. Guy Smiley got it on his shift this morning I heard.”

“Okay,” the admiral drawled. The guy clearly resented being on the
evening shift with nothing to do, and resented it even more since it was a
holiday. He had a surly attitude, so he was probably in the right place. At
least he was awake manning his post. “Any other problems?” Irons asked. “Do I
need to come in?”

“No, I don't see why you should. Enjoy the party. Wish I was
there,” the guy grumbled.

“Sure, thank you,” Irons replied.

“Don't mention it.” The phone clicked and then there was a loud
beee of a disconnected signal before Sprite cut it off. The admiral rubbed his
ear in irritation. “So that's it?”

“I guess so,” Sprite said. “Do you want to get involved?”

“No, not really,” Irons replied with a shrug.

“Concerned it was a distraction to put a bomb in your air car? You
did leave it in the secured parking on the field you know admiral,” Sprite
said.

Irons stopped moving and looked up thoughtfully. Slowly he blew a
breath of air out. “Now, that's a nasty thought.”

“I tend to have them from time to time.”

“Paranoid, but we can't be too paranoid right now, Defender?”
Irons asked.

“Admiral?”

“Remind me to do a full sweep scan of the port and parking the
next time I go there.”

“Agreed.”

“Lieutenant, see if you and the commander can gain access to any
security monitoring systems in or around the parking area. See if you can
access any video or other feeds and check there too.”

“Warrant?” Sprite asked, sounding exasperated. She had been
keeping an eye on things with the cameras around the space port. Unfortunately
none covered the parking area.

“Why, do you ever ask for one?” Irons asked, pursing his lips in
wry amusement.

“Point,” Sprite said. “Just checking,” she added. He snorted.

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

It was a nice evening, quite pleasant now that the sun was down
and the heat of the day had passed. The bugs were being zapped by electrical
devices attached to the electric lights on the streets, keeping their parasitic
interference to a minimum. They even offered a degree of additional
entertainment.