Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer) (29 page)

“You could go back though. Take over.”

The admiral frowned. “If I wanted to do so... yes.” He admitted
slowly. He knew Logan and others would jump to serve, and some of their
civilian friends would back him, but it would, could get ugly. No, he didn't
want that. “But like I said, I'm a product of my generation. I don't go
stomping all over the population’s wishes unless I have damn good reason. John
Q public may be venial, short sighted, and fickle, but I can't just ignore
them. Can you imagine if I did? I'd have no end of problems. People who did support
me before would be on the fence, we'd have to worry about terrorists,
assassination attempts, sabotage, all sorts of crap. No, they got what they
wanted.”

A woman nodded, eyes sad. “But they'll learn eventually what they
wanted and what they
needed
are two very different things though.”

“Like a spoiled child growing up and facing the cold realities of
the world for the first time,” another mother said. The crowd shifted,
uncomfortable.

The admiral nodded, reminded of Antigua. “Speaking as a parent myself
I agree. I have no doubt those in industry are sorely missing my presence, and
some are resenting it. Hopefully they resent the people who drove me out
instead of me for letting them do so,” he said shrugging.

“Why?”

“I... let's just say I'm the key master. I hold
all
the
replicator keys.”

“Oh.”

Another woman blinked, parsing that short simple statement out. He
could see the wheels turning. Finally she looked up, eyes wide. “Oh!” she said,
now in awe. “Oh my!” Her right hand went over her heart.

The admiral nodded, completely sober now. “Exactly. The one, the
only as far as anyone knows. One of the reasons your government likes me so
much, I made that new fusion reactor for them.”

“That was you? I thought we traded for it?”

“You did. I made it.”

“I.... see...” the first woman said, scratching her scalp. She was
clearly off balance. “So what are you going to do now?”

“I'm going to visit some of the towns and cities while I wait for
the last shipments to finish, then load up and jump to my next destination.”

“I.... Goddess speed on your travels Admiral,” she said, holding
out her hand. He took it and shook it, noting the man waving to her. The man
scowled, most likely her husband. He snorted, wondering if she had used him to
make her husband jealous, or to make herself feel better. Most likely a little
of both. She smiled politely as they disengaged.

“Thank you. To you as well madam. May the spirit of space guide
and comfort you in your darkest hours.”

“Thank you Admiral. Good luck,” the woman said backing away.
Slowly the crowd dispersed with her. Irons nodded.

“Well! That was interesting,” Sprite commented. “Did you mean for
that to happen?”

“For what?”

“For the gossip! Stories of you are going to go out all over this
retched mud ball. Spacers will eventually pick up on it. You know how they are,
superstitious lot. It's a great story.”

“True,” he replied in an aside to the AI.

“You know she charged her drinks to your account?” the bartender
asked. Irons snorted, shooting the woman a look. She was talking with her
husband, smiling and shaking her hair out. “Her husband doesn't give her a tab,
doesn't like her out of the house. Most people don't mind since she's a
charmer,” she said warily. He snorted.

“That's fine,” he said shrugging. “I'll pay it.” He said turning
back to the bartender. It was a small price to pay for what he had in mind
anyway. If he was right some of what he said would be making the rounds here
and in other bars shortly.

She tallied it up, padded the bill a bit and then presented it to
him. He snorted and dug into his pockets to pull out his improvised purse. He
paid his bar tab with a sliver of gold and then walking out of the bar into the
crisp air. It was getting close to evening, another... he checked his HUD.. 
Another half hour to sunset, and then another half hour after that the
fireworks should start.

“You did plan that!” Sprite laughingly accused.

“You're not the only one who can handle PR Commander. I know it's
not quite ethical, but I told the truth and sometimes that's even more powerful
than a good lie.”

“I'll say. Wow! I wonder if you'll have ticker tape parades and
fireworks when you enter other towns down the road?”

“Hopefully not, I don't want to be here too much longer. Let's go
see the fireworks and then see what other mischief I can get into shall we?”

“As you wish Admiral,” Sprite replied with a hint of mischief in
her voice. “Though I wish we were in a decent city with a computer network. One
that's not.... Gah! This is terrible! One meg per second of access speed? And
there's nothing on the net!”

“Sorry Sprite., maybe the next time we come things will look
better.”

“Only if you do something about it,” she said darkly.

He only smiled and kept walking.

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

A thought occurred to Irons. He paused, slowing and then making
his way to the side out of the way of the general traffic and hopefully out of
earshot. “Sprite that was a bar.”

“Perceptive as ever admiral,” Sprite commented with a chuckle.

“I thought this was a dry county?”

“It is admiral. But on special occasions the bars are open to the
public. The speak easy's are known to the law of course. How else can they
avoid them?”

“Um...”

“By now admiral you should know that the commissioner has a hand
in just about everything. He controls everything in Hazard.”

“Okay....”

“So why the dry county is your next question?” Sprite asked, still
sounding amused. “It's simple. By making something illegal he therefore makes
it more profitable. Things that are illegal are of course more profitable.”

“Okay...”

“So, he gets a rake off from the speak easy's and his sheriff's
lay in to the drunks if they aren't careful, and he gets a cut of the fines
there as well. Plus from what I've overheard most of the illegal moonshiners
work for Hodges, like everything else in this county.”

He noted a billboard with Hodges heaven donuts on the left. On the
right was the Hodges bank and trust. “Lovely. I think I want to find another
county,” he said dryly.

“They're all like that admiral. They each scratch each other's
back if they don't stick a knife in it.”

“Great. Nice planet,” he said nodding to a pair of people walking
by.

“By the way, of the forty sticks you've handed out a whopping ten
have been hooked up to visual devices. Dewey is rather engrossed in his.”

“I thought he would be,” the admiral replied with a chuckle. He
passed a couple necking and then looked around. “Suggestions on watching the
fireworks?” he asked. The man stopped kissing and pointed away. The woman
pointed in the opposite direction. He snorted.

“I suggest you watch from the rooftops Admiral. Preferably from
the rooftop of your hotel, that would help with security,” Sprite said.
Defender lit a green light on his HUD. Irons grunted and changed course for the
hotel.

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

On the rooftop balcony he ran into more people making out in shady
corners or closets. He snorted and went over to the group of people who had set
up lawn chairs near the edge of the building. He stood, leaning against the leg
of the water tower and settled down. He didn't have long to wait.

People started to murmur and then quieted down. One softly counted
down with a pocket watch. The admiral smiled when the man hit zero and
expectantly looked up to the sky. He felt and saw the telltale sign of a rocket
going up into the atmosphere. He smiled, watching the fireworks, the perfect
end for the long day and evening.

ACT II Outbreak

The admiral paused near a statue and turned, surveying the area
around him. He'd considered going to Sin City, but instead decided to check out
Crater City. He'd nodded in passing to the Neo Alsatian Bullet in passing when
he had arrived and then moved on to the center of the city.

There he'd found a park. For some reason Sprite seemed amused by
the statue at the center of the park. It was a fully painted figure, not a
bronze or stone statue. It's only flaw was the bird droppings on the head,
shoulders, and around the pedestal. He turned, reading the brass plaque. “It is
with pride that Crater City do hereby dedicate this statue and park to our
hero, Sheriff Banniere for his tireless service in bringing law to the lawless
after the fall of civilization. It is by his tireless efforts that we are where
we are today,” he read out loud quietly.

“Amusing isn't it?” Sprite asked, virtual head shaking.

“What is?” Irons asked, noting that a NeoBear had signed the
statue. He looked up at it. There was a broad shouldered man there with red
artificial arms. He had muttonchops, a broad face with handlebar mustache,
jutting chin, and was dressed for war. He had canisters of tear gas strapped on
one side of his chest, a pistol in his left artificial hand, and another on his
right hip. Ammo bags were on his belt. His artificial arms were covered in
scratches and yellow markings and warning labels. He had a decent pair of blue
trousers on, with steel toed boots to finish him off. “Quite the fellow,” Irons
remarked, admiring the sculpt. Whoever had done it had been a true artist.
“Wish I could have met him,” Irons replied.

Sprite laughed. He turned, eyes narrowed. “Something I'm missing
Commander?” he asked. “Care to enlighten me?” he asked when she didn't answer
right away and just kept laughing.

“Well, it's just... you didn't recognize him either and it's
hilarious. You organics!”

“Sprite?” he asked, eyebrow raised. “Want to let me in on the
joke?”

“He's a video game character Admiral! From our time!” Sprite
finally said, coming clean.

“He's a what?” he asked, turning to look at the statue again and
then noticed people looking at him strangely. He turned away from a woman
pushing a baby carriage. He held up his right hand palm up so she could project
her image. “Care to explain?”

“He's a virtual construct created for a video game. A popular game
series from before the war actually,” Sprite informed him.

“Really,” he said, looking at another plaque. This one detailed
the sheriff's biography, how he'd lost his arms in the Xeno war, but had kept
fighting, earning the top medals of the Federation before settling on Epsilon
Triangula to help clean it up. “Seems legit,” he said.

Sprite showed him a scan of the character, and then of the statue.
He blinked. They were a match, even the pose was identical. Which made him
wonder why.

“I think... and this is a hypothesis, I believe either a company
had this set up prior to the war, or a fan did. As to the legend... that I'm
not so sure about. How could people believe in someone and talk about them as
if they are a real person if they didn't exist?” she asked.

He grunted as the bio and all the deeds of this mythological
person ran through his head. How he affected stability and law and order... how
the mere mention of his name had bandits running for the hills. He turned and
found a park bench under a tree and sat. “Ever hear of my namesake?” he asked.

“You mean John Henry?”

“Correct. How about Paul Bunyan? Or oh, Johnny Appleseed?”

“They were mythological figures from the early eighteenth and
nineteenth century America I believe. Created by settlers correct?” Sprite
seemed to freeze, and then her expression changed to a thoughtful look as she
cocked her head and thought about what he was implying. “The comparisons you
draw... are you saying something to that effect happened here?”

“I'm thinking it's a likely possibility,” the admiral murmured,
rubbing his chin with his left hand. “Think about the statement there, how
bandits ran for the hills when word of his approach reached them. I wonder how
often that really happened? If someone actively worked to promote the myth,
they'd be looking for the legend not a sidekick.”

“A rumor campaign,” Sprite replied.

“True.”

“Okay, another analogy, Santa Claus,” Sprite said, sounding amused
by the whole idea.

The admiral nodded. “Now you are catching on. Think about it, you
have a legend, someone to inspire people. People need a goal, a figure to look
up to.”

“You are also drawing a comparison to the Robin Hood myth? Or
organized religion?”

“You yourself pointed out Santa,” Irons replied. He smiled. He
himself still believed in the spirit of old saint nick.

“True. But that was with the better behave line of reasoning you
provoked. The Robin Hood...”

“Robin Hood effected change in his time as well.”

“You speak as if he really was real.”