Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer) (9 page)

It wasn't like they were going to go without either. Io was no
doubt stuffed to the deck heads with raw and semi-processed material. It could
be that they actually
wanted
to unload some of it and he was serving as
a good excuse. Their mercenary hearts just couldn't exactly give something
away. That was contrary to their nature.

Or it could be that they were having too much fun just yanking his
chain. That he thought with a wry twist of his lips as he watched the purser
whisper into her communications link and scroll through a list on her tablet...
yes that was partially it too.

Either way he'd get what he'd set out to do done, after all, he
didn't like the alternatives. He had already completed some of his goals, he'd
set out to build that gas giant refinery and completed it after all. The fuel
he was getting from the planet wasn't going to cut it according to Phoenix's
latest calculations. It would be useful for life support, but he needed pure
deuterium and Helium 3 to maximize the reactor's output.

If this long jump was going to work he'd need to stuff Phoenix
with everything he could get his hands on. After all, it would be a long trip,
months in hyper without any chance to stop and refuel or resupply. He shuddered
at the very idea. He had been dreading it, and still in fact did dread it even
now.

 Phoenix had actually never done anything like it, but he knew the
ship could handle it. It was himself he was more worried about. A five or six
month jump without anyone else but AI for companionship? Working twenty hour
days for that period of time? He'd done something like that before but... well,
it would test his limits now wouldn't it? He thought with a mental snort.

The alternative was to either tuck his legs and jump through
Pyrax, or find an alternative route. That could mean going back to Centennial
and jumping for the B452c system then through pirate infested space around Kathy's
World before turning down galactic south to parallel the Agnosta chain in a run
of empty systems before ending up where he intended to go in the empty B100mega
system. A years traveling minimum according to Phoenix, without sure places to
stop and refuel. No, the long jump was the way to go.

Of course he could jump to Pyrax, pass through it and let the AI
masquerade for him. They didn't even need to know he was on-board if he wanted.
He would be able to see how things were going in the system and keep his visit
low key. Hell he could jump in and then get stealthy, stick to the outer edges
of the system and work his way around and see if they spotted him. If they did
he could pass it off as a training exercise...

No, the long jump. Besides, he loved a challenge.

He ended up bartering a modern computer core, an industrial class
one replicator, fusion injectors, EPS conduit valves, and parts for a class one
fusion reactor to get the additional materials, food, and fuel. The captain was
amused to compete with him. Io traded equipment for a new hospital complex, a
series of weather and communications satellites, a kilometer of EPS conduits,
some computers, three ground radar arrays for the major airports, the downloads
and information he'd turned over to them, as well as a dozen construction
vehicles and over a hundred tons of parts for them.

She had even tossed in a tug and a shuttle the girls had put
together. He was amused when he had found out they were planning on tapping his
gas giant refinery for fuel for the reactor he was building, all without
consulting him. Typical.

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

“Admiral are you going to toss them your usual help package?”
Sprite asked, sounding slightly amused and condescending after the bartering
concluded. Irons snorted as he looked up from the report he was reading.

“You have a better idea?”

“I'd like to expand on it actually, the bulk of their recent
technological renaissance has been primarily due to two manufacturers and
largely due to the efforts of Director Richards.” Sprite wasn't sure if it
would get to its intended recipients, but if Richards was involved it might
stand a better chance. From the dossier she'd built up about the woman she
seemed an honorable woman.

“Richards...” Irons mused.

A picture from a press clipping appeared on the tablet he'd been
looking at. It was of a sandy haired woman wearing glasses and a white medical
smock. A red badge was under the lapel breast pocket and a stethoscope was
around the back of her neck. She was smiling nice white even teeth.

“Doctor Richards, forty four local years old, young for her
position as director of planetary medical services. The equivalent of a chief
medical officer. She's become a force of nature in her profession and others,
overhauling all of them.”

The admiral nodded. “A woman after my own heart. By all means. And
if we can send her any extras, do so. She needs all she can get.”

“Since the planet has no insurance services and has until recently
only primitive medical methods and technology I'd say yes she does,” Sprite
replied dryly.

“Good. It never hurts to help the medics. Seeing to long term
health is a good will gesture.”

“Not just health actually admiral, her interest in salvaged
medical equipment and techniques has sparked a great deal of the renaissance
and of course the usual spy games and patent law fights.”

Irons winced as his face puckered in repugnance. “Ew.”

“Ew indeed. Oddly the doctor has stayed largely out of it. She
turns her findings over to the office of industry who then hands it over to an industry
to make. Usually for a fee of course,” Sprite replied. Irons winced. Sprite had
picked up on the graft and corruption on the planet. On the surface it was a
nice world, but he was realizing some things were only skin deep. After his
experience in Pyrax he had no intention of getting screwed by politicians
again.

“She accepts donations but she may wonder why you an offworlder
are donating data and technology admiral,” Sprite said as he keyed up the file
he had been reading once more.

“Let her. Her problem. I've got other fish to fry,” he said,
scrolling through the report. “I've got to fix the buss in the starboard keel
nacelle of the ship. Phoenix is showing me it's hinky.”

“It is,” Phoenix replied.

“It is. But you also have an appointment admiral,” Sprite informed
him.

He sighed getting up and setting the tablet down. “Then I'd better
get on it then. Phoenix get the replicator working on the replacement part.
I'll go pull the panel.”

“Already on it admiral,” Phoenix replied. “We are low on materials
though.”

“I know. I'll... figure something out,” he said with a helpless
shrug. He could wrangle rocks but it wasn't something he enjoyed. A close call
in Gaston had made him reconsider the entire project. It wasn't that he
couldn't do it, it was a safety issue. If he had more hands... He set the
thought aside as he walked out of the room.

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

The admiral spotted the man nonchalantly leaning against a
building in the shade. He at first ignored the man, he was after all just
minding his own business, but then Defender's in depth scan pointed out a knife
the man was holding on his right side out of sight. As he passed the man he
felt/saw him look up and then moved quickly to grab for Irons. Irons however
spun, his right hand came up and he triggered a stun blast. The man crumbled,
falling like a lifeless puppet.

Irons looked around. Sure enough there were a couple of witnesses,
all dressed in western garb that was more commonly worn here in the Styx on the
edge of town. He snorted, most were pretending not to look at what happened,
just looking away and minding their own business. “Nice town,” Irons replied.
He let out a long heartfelt sigh. “Real nice town.”

“They aren't falling all over themselves to help or find out what
happened are they?” Sprite asked, clearly not amused by that.

“Police?” Irons asked. Sprite put an arrow on his HUD. He turned
in the indicated direction. A deputy was coming out of a barber shop, rubbing
his neck as if he'd just gotten a shave. Most likely he had. “I've contacted
dispatch. He should be getting a call momentarily,” Sprite said. The young man
put his bobby hat on.

“I take it crime is a problem here?” he asked as Sprite summoned a
nearby deputy. The deputy frowned, touching his brick sized radio on his hip.
He looked around for a moment. Irons waved to him. The man grunted and then
said something into his radio. The admiral's enhanced hearing picked out the
words. “Responding to incident now.”

“Ten four,” the dispatcher replied with a squelch of static.

“You'd think that yes,” a nearby witness said shaking his head.
Irons turned to the old duffer who had been watching nearby. He'd noticed the
man coming closer but hadn't responded, he didn't read threat. He was glad at
least someone was stepping up. “Why, are you looking to run for the sheriff’s
post?” the guy asked, turning his head to spit on the ground next to a horse.

“No, just curious,” Irons asked, foot on top of the mugger. If the
man had sufficient metal on him some of the stun charge could be discharged in
the ground. He could be playing possum, but the admiral's sensors picked up
that he was unconscious and breathing normally.

“What'd you do to him?” the witness asked, clearly curious. He
spread his gnarled hands when Irons looked at him. “Just curious.” Irons sized
him up. He was tall and lean, dressed in a western outfit like many of the
other people in this area. Red plaid top and tan pants complete with western
style boots. From the look of the engravings on his belt and boots along with
the silver belt buckle he was someone of some substance. He had silver hair
under the wide brimmed white hat he wore.

“Stunner,” The admiral said, holding up his right hand. It morphed
into his stunner and then back.

The man's eyes widened and then he tipped his white western hat
back and scratched his wrinkled brow. “Well, I'll be,” he said. He seemed to
gulp as Irons put his hand down.

“Drop it mister,” a voice growled. Irons turned to see an
approaching figure. He snorted.

“It's attached,” the admiral said, wiggling his fingers.

“I don't give a shit... wait, huh? Where'd it go?” the deputy
asked in confusion. Irons looked him over. He was wearing a constable outfit,
but westernized. Irons didn't know what to think of it. He had a brown button
down coat, English bobby bowler hat, with a silver badge on the front, shiny
silver buttons on the coat, but what looked like western pants and boots. Most
likely it was a compromise between riding wear and a flat foot's uniform.

“Are you the deputy I called?”

“Yeah,” the guy said, looking at the mugger on the ground. “This
him?” he asked, nodding his chin to the man.

“Yeah Roy, that's him,” the witness said. “Stupid prick. Must be
new in town,” he said leaning over a rail used to tie horses to. He raised a
weathered boot and put it on the lower rail.

“Don't know, don't care,” the admiral said. “I'm just glad he's
out of my hair. That is if you will take him off my hands officer...?”

“Deputy,” the brown haired deputy said, face contorting in
annoyance. He was a looker, holo novel handsome, he'd have the girls eating out
of his hand if he wanted. From the smooth sound of his voice he probably sang
too. “Deputy Rogers. Sheriff Coltrain is the sheriff of the city and
surrounding county.”

“Ah,” Irons said nodding. “Pleased to meet you deputy Rogers,” he
said, stepping back. “My name is Fleet Admiral Irons. I'm a Federation military
officer visiting your planet.”

“I... see...” the deputy said, taking in Irons outfit once more.
“You do have the look of an offworlder,” he said, coming closer to look at the
mugger. “What'd you do, hit him?”

“No, stunner,” the admiral said. He held up his hand and the
deputy flinched, reaching for his holster. He froze, hand on it when Irons eyes
stilled and bore into his. “No, not wise,” the admiral said. “The mugger,” he
pointed to the man on the ground. “Didn't know I was a sleeper and that I was
enhanced. I stunned him instead of... well, I thought you'd like to question
him,” the admiral said, lowering his right hand slowly.

The deputy seemed to tense again and then slowly he relaxed. “This
true Judge Albert?” he said, turning his body to the witness but not taking his
eyes off the admiral for a moment. Irons finally recognized him, the man in the
robes from the earlier lynch mob. Great, he thought.

Albert nodded, tipping his hat back once more and then spitting.
“Sure as I'm standing here. Guy came out of that alley,” he turned and pointed
a weathered hand to a tight two meter space between two of the nearby
buildings. “and poked this here fella with his knife, or tried to. This fella
pointed his right hand at him and the guy just dropped like a sack of
potatoes.”

“Clear cut case of self-defense,” the deputy said, nodding and
straightening. He turned to others around them. A shop keeper nodded, still
holding his broom.

“Stupid prick. He obviously didn't think Fat Larry would notice
him. Or thought he'd make a quick buck and then skedaddle before Larry got
wise,” Albert said.