Fool's Gold (The Wandering Engineer)

by Hechtl, Chris

  "Right. How is tactical?" he asked. The meeting revolved into routine as they relaxed.

  "Admiral I noticed you said support ships, does that mean Io can make military grade nano?" Harris asked softly over a private communication channel. He looked around then nodded to the avatar. The AI isolated the link.

  "Yes, but I'd prefer that to be strictly need to know," he grimaced. Harris really was sharp.

  "What's to stop them from using it?" Harris asked.

  "Me. Or a lack thereof," he chuckled.

  "Oh, lock out?" Harris asked. Irons nodded.

  "Exactly." A tech waved and Harris grimaced before moving off to see what was going on.

  "Admiral, I'd like you to meet Dan. He's a bit of a tac buff like me, but he always focused on the ECM and defensive measures side over the strategic offensive side," Harris introduced a short stocky man with a bit of a beer gut.

  "Pleased to meet you. ECM?" he asked.

  "Well some of us prefer brains over brawn," Dan turned a look on Harris then smiled briefly to the Admiral.

  "All right, You've got a battlefield commission as a second Lieutenant. Get with Harris and start working out with the ships systems," he waved as he sat.

  "Admiral, when are we going to do a field exercise?" Harris asked excited. Shelby hid a smile.

  "When we're ready. We've still got a crew to train. I'd rather not expend munitions until we've had a few sims under our belt and weapons to train with," Irons smiled. Harris nodded.

  "Right, right, okay. I'm on today's list for upgrading, let’s see if we can run a sim or two beforehand. I'd like to compare and contrast it to what I can do when I've got implants," he waved to Dan who started chattering animatedly.

  Shelby leaned over to the Admiral's side. "They'll do all right Admiral. I'm more worried about the prize crews for the corvettes," she sighed. Irons nodded. Recently they had identified a few potential ships to repair and put back into service. Unfortunately all of them were sublight milita grade ships and none were above the size of a light frigate. They were reserving their best command team for Firefly, which meant the corvettes were going to get the dregs. That is if they were worth salvaging. He sat back.

  "I've got a couple people volunteering for communications or engineering slots, but no one is stepping up for command," he said, grimacing and steepling his fingers. Shelby grimaced as well.

  "Harris and Dan won’t do it, they're good but they lack..." She shrugged.

  "People skills you mean. Real world experience and leadership skills. That takes time, exposure, and practice," Irons sighed. Shelby nodded looking away.

  "It's harder to do than I thought," she said softly. He nodded.

  "Being an officer or serving with friends and family?" he asked. “From what your father said and what I've seen you've got the leadership and technical abilities down.” He shook his head. “Is it being an officer with everything on the line?”

  She grimaced. "Both. I've done it all my life, but it's a little harder to be objective now." She looked over to him. He nodded.

  "Now it's real and we're in a time crunch," he replied. She grimaced as well then reluctantly nodded.

  "Yeah."

  He chuckled. "If it was easy everyone would do it. Don't worry about it, it comes with time," he nodded to her.

  She sighed. "Yeah. I'm after Harris and Dan today so I better get engineering set up for when I'm gone." She nodded politely to him as she gathered her tablet and walked out.

  "Admiral, Gutierrez's implants were a success. He is in the regen tank now. I think I've got the hang of this," Doc said then opened a video channel. He nodded to her. "Good work Doc, Glad to hear it." She was dressed in scrubs with a mask covering her face.

  "I'm going to try to do four of the command staff, Dan, Harris, Janice, and Shelby today. I've got a few people who will stand in and I hope they will pick up the techniques so we can have multiple surgery teams going." She shrugged. It looked odd with her hands up in the air. He nodded realizing she was keeping them away from everything to keep them sterile. Sterility fields were only good for a few pathogens. The doctor was taking every precaution. That was good to see.

  "Right. Dan and Harris just left, do you want me to page them?" he asked.

  "No, Janice is in prep now. I'll have Harris paged as soon as we start. My nurse can prep him while I finish." She grimaced as a nurse pulled up her face mask.

  "We're ready doctor," the nurse murmured.

  "Right. Got to go, See you," she nodded. The nurse reached around and cut the circuit. Irons nodded.

  "Well, that's good news. Hopefully we don't run into any complications." He said. Firefly's avatar nodded.

  "There is the usual post surgery swelling and minor bleeding, but Captain Gutierrez is stable and responding well. His extensive injuries will take time to repair in the regen tank though," Firefly reported to the bridge crew. Irons grimaced as the crew murmured.

  "Which will tie that up for some time. Hopefully we can get the sickbay on the station up to implants as well. At least on the easy patients," he grimaced.

  "Possible," Firefly responded.

  “In again, out again, Finnegan. What's the deal Admiral? Can't make up your mind where you want to be?” a voice asked as he walked through the concourse to sickbay. He turned.

  “We need to align the shields and drive. We can't do that in port. It would chew up the station,” he answered looking at the elf standing on the top of a banister. “So that means going out a safe distance, turning everything on, getting them aligned, then doing a couple runs to break the equipment in.” He shrugged. He also needed to give the replicators lead time to get parts done, tested, and too the docks.

  “I see,” Oberon nodded. “Well, it is good to see my kids every once in a while I suppose.” He shook his small head. “Do take care of them.”

  Irons nodded, hefting the box he had in his hands. “I'll do my best.”

  “You do that. And take care yourself Admiral.” The elf hopped down and then walked off, disappearing into the crowd of legs.

  Irons entered the doctor's inner sanctum and smiled. She was sitting in her chair, bent over the desk. She groaned. "I hear I have you to thank for my current workload. Remind me to thank you properly for it. Maybe a rectal exam... no that's too easy, maybe a full GI work up," she said tiredly rubbing her temples.

  "Oh buck up, you’re enjoying it, you know it," he said chuckling softly. "Besides, I have a gift," he smiled. “Consider it a thank you for your hard work with the implants.”

  "And what, pray tell do you think would get you back in my good graces?" she demanded looking up to him. He pulled a plate out of the box and held it up. Her eyes locked onto the plate in his left hand.

  "Oh, some fudge," he said innocently.

  "Fudge?" she asked sniffing.

  His smile turned into a grin.

  "All right, just this once your off the hook. Gimme." She held out her hands and made grasping motions. He chuckled as he handed her the plate. Her eyes widened at the brown square. "Ohhh..."

  She took a bite. "Heavenly," she sighed, sitting back. "For that, I forgive you and the unnatural beasts that spawned you." She opened her eyes and took another bite. "Now shoo," she said, eyes closed, hand making dismissing waves. He chuckled as he quietly left.

  Harris smiled. "Looks like things are working well. I'm glad I'm here, not serving on Anvil as some staff weenie any more." He shook his head.

  Logan looked up and frowned. "It takes all kinds of people to serve in the navy son." He studied the tac officer. The young man was shaking down surprising well but he had a lot of rough edges. Fortunately they had time to work on a few. They still had about three weeks left of the admiral's original time estimate Logan thought. And loads of work to do he thought mentally. He was pretty sure the pirates weren't going to enjoy the party they were planning in their honor. Even though the the tactician was looking like he was. Harris looked amused and full of himself.


  "You've got to admit sir, it's better to be sitting on a bridge than off shuffling papers. Or watching the action from the sidelines," he shrugged. Irons nodded.

  "But there are different branches of the navy, we need them all. Medical, Technical, Tactical, Teachers, Command, Support, Intelligence, Research, Fighters, and yes bureaucrats," he waved. Harris looked amused.

  "Believe it. We have to have bean counters, as much as we hate them. Someone has to keep us honest, keep track of the materials and people, where they go, what they can do," Logan patiently explained. “Many a battle has been lost because they didn't have the right material on hand when they needed it.”

  "I was wondering about that, the whole different mindset thing. When I was reading Halsey's monograph, he talked about the different mindsets in the navy." Dan looked over to the Admiral and exec. "I mean, he talked about fighters and politicians, and bureaucrats and such."

  Irons reluctantly nodded. "There are those people, careerists, who make their careers by hanging onto the coat tails of someone else, or by being someone's eyes and ears. It's not a pleasant thought, they can be promoted far beyond their abilities just for that, and it can cause problems."

  He looked over to Logan who nodded. "I've served with a few myself." He shrugged then looked over to Dan and Harris. "Then there are the fighters, the ones who can fight, but are terrible in peace time," he smiled. Irons nodded.

  "What about the teachers?" Harris asked.

  "The best are the ones who can both lead, inspire, fight, and teach. It's a rare combination. Some have those qualities naturally, others can fake it." Irons raised a hand. "I'm a techno nerd, I freely admit it. I can teach, in fact, I've come to enjoy it. But command can weigh heavy on you. It takes time to get used to and if you come at it

  cold as I did, it can break an officer as easily as make one," he shrugged. “But to be honest? I'd rather be elbow deep in a repair job or designing a new system over sitting at my desk shuffling paperwork any old day.” The others chuckled at that.

  “I've had a couple incidents though that promoted me faster than I was comfortable for. Or so I thought,” he shrugged. “I guess you could say I rose to the occasion as the case warranted.”

  "You are talking about some of the scrapes you were in," Harris asked nodding.

  "Yes. I was lucky," Irons shrugged. Dan gave him a disbelieving look. So did Logan. Irons blushed and shrugged it off. "Believe what you will. But we got the job done. Speaking of which, let's get this test run finished so we can stand down and take on more supplies." He nodded to Firefly's avatar.

  "Right, synchronizing tac and defense consoles now..."

  “Can I talk with you for a moment Admiral?” the Doc asked.

  “Sure.” He looked up to see she wasn't alone. “Come in both of you. All three of you.” He smiled as Doctor Standish and Shelby came in with her. “Four.” She waved to another frumpy looking woman.

  “ Thanks, since this is my office,” Thorby looked amused. “Admiral this is Jenni Martel, our resident genealogist and geneticist.” The mousy woman shook hands with the Admiral then sat down.

  “We were talking about the implants and I ran across a couple references involving genetic engineering. They are maddeningly brief. I was wondering if you had any thoughts on them,” Thorby said.

  “Genies?” he asked. “In relation to implants?” They nodded. “You are talking about the changes to improve sentients and make implant tech easier to assimilate,” he nodded.

  "So your saying they are better?" Doc asked. Irons grimaced.

  "Yes and no, You have to understand, genies have an improved immune system and other features that both enhance chances of survival, but also detract from chances of survival as well."

  She looked confused. "What do you mean?" Shelby asked.

  "Well, for instance a mod that enhances muscle strength. That has trade offs." The doctor began to look thoughtful. "For instance, it takes a lot of calories to keep the muscles fed, and a lot of work to keep them in tone," he shrugged. The doctor nodded.

  "Nothing ever comes for free," she muttered. He smiled.

  "Exactly. Improved muscle strength means you need stronger cartilage and bones, which means less bone marrow so there is less blood production and a higher chance of bone cancers when exposed to radiation." He shrugged. "Also healing is a major problem. Some of the earlier mods had enhanced muscles but not enhanced tendons and ligaments, which..." He shrugged. Both women winced.

  "So it's a trade off?" Shelby asked, looking from one to another.

  "Evolution at its finest, or lowest, depending on your point of view. A person with an enhanced immune system is more likely to survive when exposed to disease or bacteria, enhanced muscles will give you a brief window of survival, but then again a base line organic has a higher chance of survival because they require less food in the lean times," he explained. Doc nodded.

  "You keep saying organics. Don't you mean humans?" a nurse said coming up behind him. He turned.

  "Shelly..." Doc started to wave her off but Irons held up a restraining hand.

  "No, she's right to ask. I say organics because there are a lot of other sentient species out there, and several did genetic changes of their own." He shrugged. "Some like the Ynari and the Xeno's have completely changed their genetic code. They are incompatible with their own species of earlier times."

  "So that's what they mean by polymorphic or polygenetic," the doctor murmured.

  "Well, yes and no, some polymorhs, like the blobs of New Genesis don't fit the category. Then there are the Ynari, they alter their genetic code to each environment. They keep a genetic toolbox with them." He shrugged.

  “Most DNA is actually a tool box. Recessive genes are turned off but still stored in case of future need. I guess the Ynari take it to the extreme,” Thornby said.

  "Must be interesting telling them apart," the nurse joked.

  "I don't know if any still survive. Maybe." Irons looked sad for a moment.

  The doctor cleared her throat. "So the, ah, neural dendrite clusters were genetic mods to facilitate implants?" she asked getting back to the subject. Irons nodded getting back on track.

  "Right. There are clusters at each of the normal implant locations that lead to the major sensory or other important functions in the brain. Also, there are increased cross over linkages between the brain hemispheres, making the person a bit smarter, and faster on their feet, but makes their brains more vulnerable to injury." He shrugged.

  "Another trade off I suppose," Shelby said darkly, looking away.

  "All things come with risk Commander. And not all risk can be predicted in advance, mapped out, and avoided easily. This one probably was a side effect they didn't game out or anticipate. If they had, they may have added more cushioning fluids or something." The Admiral shrugged. "I am not sure, I'm not a geneticist or a doctor," he smiled. "I'll take a hyper drive any day over trying to make heads or tails of a chromosome strand." Doc chuckled.

  "To each his own then. I'm not a geneticist either, but I think I can get by. Or at least use the tools they left in us. I'll leave that to doctor Martel here.” She nodded politely to the doctor. She tapped the dendrite clusters. "It's interesting that they are still there, after centuries of sleep." She looked up to Irons.

  "Um, well, they made them a dominant trait. So it is passed from generation to generation." He shrugged. She nodded.

  "Dominant trait?" Shelby asked. "Dare I ask?" she smiled.

  "It means they added it to the X chromosome, but in a part that is critical. Not in the recessive gene bank. You see, the human body only uses a tenth of its genetic code, the rest is recessive genes from past generations. Call it an archive or storage. When people breed sometimes they are tapped and come out," the doctor explained.

  “Some of the other common species were doing similar things just before the war broke out. Unfortunately due to long periods of growth, not to mention testing I'm not sure how many actually survive
d,” Irons frowned in thought.

  “Then of course there is the fact that most of that work was done on home worlds or on medical research stations. Most of which probably didn't survive the war,” Doctor Martel said shaking her head.

  “There is that,” Irons nodded. “One of the problems you’re going to have is the recessive genes in our more... less varied crew.”

  “Yes, it will be a challenge. We're building a gene bank actually and making it open to the public,” she smiled coyly to the Admiral. “Your more than welcome to donate...”

  “Thanks but no thanks.” He held up his hands laughing.

  “So recessive genes are biology's way of storing data it may not need but doesn't want to throw out?” Shelby asked.

  The nurse nodded. Irons smiled. "And it makes people a little different than each other, giving each generation a larger chance of survival over the next. There is a randomization factor built into each generation to better its chances for survival."

  "Back to your survival thing again," Shelby muttered.

  Irons chuckled. "Yeah, it ties into that." He waved it away. "Don't worry about it. The point is, it has worked, and will work for generations to come. Let's focus on what we can do with it." The women each nodded.

  Chapter 17

  Irons grimaced at the crowd. They were in port at Anvil for another two hours while they took on the latest stores the station had managed to build. Work crews were frantically working on the outer hull, replacing what they could in the interm. He was pretty sure the station and crew were working twenty hour days. They still had a lot more of them in the future but there was now a light at the end of the long tunnel.

  He was leading Dan and Harris to Ops for a conference. He'd rather be overseeing the new drive pods being installed but he knew Shelby and Logan could handle it so let it slide and decided to check in with Enrique and the staff. It was a ticklish affair, tuning the pods and they didn't need him breathing down their necks while they tried to work. He needed to encourage their independence anyway he thought.