Fool's Gold (The Wandering Engineer)

by Hechtl, Chris

  "Seriously help?" Vargess said looking desperate. "You got me into this!" he looked at Liam as the chief made his way through the pub to the door. Liam laughed.

  "Sorry to leave you in a lurch mate. Next time I'll rescue you. Promise," he chuckled, shaking his head as he left.

  "So which was it?" Mayweather murmured in his ear.

  "You are not going to let this go are you?" he asked with a shaky laugh. Her chuckle was more of a sensuous purr then a true laugh.

  "Nope."

  "Thought not," he sighed.

  The breeze was a nice touch, he had to admit. He looked up to the sky, or at least the holo projection of a sky and smiled at the clouds. Beams of sunshine peeked out here and there as they drifted with the wind. "Nice touch," he murmured feeling the heat of some sort of infrared lamp on his skin.

  "You think so? I think they overdid it to be honest. The art department is getting into a realistic groove for some reason," Sprite answered. “I would have gone with something stylized. Maybe Piccasso or Nomereti,” she said. He was relaxing after a nice bout in the dojo. He felt the breeze dry his wet hair.

  "Maybe so, but I like it," he shrugged watching the students amble by. Several waved. He nodded politely. A trio of students were arguing about class work at the table next to him. He tried to tune it out as he sipped his drink. A group of student jogged past then made the turn past the cantina's raised deck and went off down the track and out of sight.

  "I don't see the need. I mean, why all that running? Honestly, why do you need to learn to run if you’re on a starship?" a girl snidely asked. He sighed. "It's some anal retentive thing the Admiral dreamed up," the girl said with a snide tone. That he couldn't and wouldn't put up with. Least of all when they were doing it right next to him. He turned.

  "No, It's been in practice for centuries actually." They froze turning to look at him. "Running helps to build mental and physical discipline by doing a repetitive task and doing it exactly right. Knowing you can do that, meet a goal, is part of the exercise," he shrugged. "The other part is learning to deal with the drudgery. The sheer boredom and learning your limits," he chuckled.

  "Then again, there is also the exercise itself. Keeping fit is always a good thing," he smiled. They looked at each other, mumbled a thanks then got up and left muttering.

  "You asked for it," the Admiral muttered watching them leave, then went back to his coffee.

  "Admiral, you've got a stalker," Defender said. He cocked his head.

  "Show me," he replied taking another sip. A window appeared on his HUD. Clearly from a security camera from the point of view.

  "Third table on the right." The view zoomed in. A woman was sitting there with a tablet up. A danish was in front of her.

  "What makes her a stalker?" Irons sub vocalized.

  "She has audio and visual bugs trained on you Admiral. She arrived when you did, behind you. Also she hasn't eaten the danish yet. It's been ten minutes." The Admiral grunted.

  "Threat level? She could be an Intel trainee. Or paparazzi. Or someone who is nosy." He sat back and fought the urge to look at her with his own eyes.

  "All possible. Checking. She is not listed in the college student database Admiral. Nor in the latest census. Immigration files accessed. "Dana Barrett, aide to representative Raoul Pierre of the Centaurus platform space colony." A picture of her was projected on the HUD.

  "So she's an aide. Definitely a spy," Sprite said. The woman tapped at something on her HUD.

  "Why the nosy little minx! She just pinged me! She's trying to hack me! I'll show her!" Sprite said.

  "What. Wait..." The Admiral said but it was too late. A pair of drones watering a nearby bush suddenly stopped and turned on the woman. They sprayed her from behind. She jumped to her feet screeching. The Admiral winced as patrons turned. Her gear clattered to the floor. Another patron stepped on the bugs. He winced, seeing the sparks as the kid danced away.

  "That'll teach her," Sprite said, dusting her hands on her HUD. The Admiral shook his head as a waiter and manager came out to see what the commotion was about. The drones flew off. The thoroughly soaked woman brushed off the helping hands, picked up her gear then turned on the Admiral with a glower.

  He turned and cocked and eyebrow. Her glare was enough to melt lead. He shrugged helplessly and spread his hands. She turned and flounced off with a half snarl half sob.

  "I can't take you anywhere," he said as the manager started to come over to him.

  Chapter 29

  "We have a situation." The Admiral looked up, tossing his stylus down on the desk.

  "What?" he asked. He'd been waiting for the shoe to drop. Six months since the pirate attack. He'd been expecting something to break. In fact he'd been sure it would of broken before now. Apparently everyone had been too busy to get into mischief.

  "Solar flare. Class M possibly Class X. Tracking indicates it's going to hit the Port-Au-Prince 2010 colony head on in two minutes. We've already lost communications," Sprite responded.

  "Bad?"

  "Very. Most likely it will fry her remaining satellites in orbit. They said they are trying to get their work crews under cover but communications was already spotty. Admiral there are over nine thousand people there. Most are in surface domes with minimum radiation shielding."

  The Admiral frowned. "Do we have anyone in the area?" he asked after a moment of thought. Sprite pulled up a system map.

  "Firefly is on an asteroid run on the other side of the primary. Maya and Sun-Yat are doing an exercise here." She pointed the spot out. "Warthog is out of it. Fuentes is on a drive test right now. She's lost a governor so they're limping back to port as we speak."

  The Admiral grunted. "And I see Hephaestus and the sub light freighters are not in range," he nodded. "Cancel the exercise. Get Maya and Sun-Yat to the colony as soon as possible to render aide. Mission parameters are search and rescue and to render aide until relieved. Get me... let's see, Destiny? She's our best freighter?"

  Sprite nodded. He ran a finger over the list. "Get me her captain. I want as many relief supplies as we can get to her on the move in the next fifteen minutes. Focus on medical, radiation, food, and life support. Toss in a portable replicator and as many portable power packs, emergency shelters, and micro fusion reactors as we've got." The AI nodded again. A text file scrolled beside her. Inventory items were highlighted and then moved to another file.

  “Tachyon pulses sent. Maya hasn't acknowledged receipt. Sun-Yat has and is underway.”

  “Ping Maya again. If they don't respond have Sun-Yat relay.”

  “Understood Admiral. Now I know why you wanted a tachyon pulse generator here.”

  “This is one reason,” he nodded. It was hopefully going to be worth the time and expense of building it into the growing shipyard. It had taken them a week to build the thing. Firefly was the only other ship to have one. The other ships only had receivers, they were too small for a full transceiver set. Trying to coordinate through Firefly at this range was impossible.

  “We have a triple neutrino flux from Maya's approximate position.”

  “Best they can do. You can't shoe horn a tachyon pulse generator into something the size of a corvette you know,” he said shaking his head. He tried to think of something else to send.

  "Admiral, Doctor Thorby is already requesting transport for a team. The Port-Au-Prince's colony's representatives are on station, they are clamoring for support."

  The Admiral nodded. "Tell them I'll be on my way, and that we are already coordinating a relief effort." He got up and straightened his hem.

  "You are not going too are you?" Sprite asked.

  "No, not likely. Harris is the senior officer on scene. Let's see how he handles it." He turned and left.

  He exited the conference room and pulled at his sleeve a little. "You really should stop doing that," Sprite sighed. His smile was more of a crocked grin. The meeting had gone about as expected. Hours of listening to people run in circles. The r
epresentatives for Port-Au-Prince were scared for their home and families, they were frantic for word, any word. Everyone expected him to pull off a miracle. He sighed.

  "Admiral a moment of your time." He turned to the female voice. A woman held up a microphone while a camera ball floated behind her.

  "Phyllis Diller Knox news. I was wondering if you would comment on the current crisis. Are you going out there? Where is Firefly?" she asked then pointed a microphone at him. He smiled.

  "You gotta love journalists. Shall I call security?" Sprite asked. He gave a small head shake.

  "Well Miss Diller I can't comment except in general terms about the crisis. I do not have much information yet. We'll know the situation on Port-Au-Prince when the first relief forces arrive," he paused.

  "And that will be Firefly of course?" she asked. "Going out yourself?" He shook his head.

  "Not at all. Sun-Yat and Maya are closest to the colony, they are already en-route now. They will extend relief efforts until a follow up mission led by the freighter Destiny can arrive," he smiled.

  "So you’re going out on Destiny?" she asked. He shook his head.

  "Why? Commander Harris is the man on the scene. He can handle the situation. I have faith in his abilities. It's time he was given the chance to show them." He nodded to the camera.

  "Nice one Admiral. Of course that just made you sound callous and uncaring," Sprite murmured.

  "Are you going on Destiny?" he asked changing the subject. The reporter looked surprised.

  "Me?" she stepped back. "Well ah, I don't know if I can get there."

  He smiled. "I'll arrange transport on Destiny. You can report from her and on the colony." She smiled, suddenly eager.

  "Yeah, I can do that," she grinned. "Thanks Admiral. You're all right."

  He chuckled. "Go, get packed. Destiny will get underway in three hours or so. She is still taking on stores and medical personnel and her engineering has yet to get squared away. Better get a move on. Report to Mr. Knox and then get to the docks. I'll have Smithy let them know you're coming."

  "You mean me of course. Already done," Sprite said smugly.

  "Your press pass is all ready ready for you," he said. Her eyes widened. "I have an AI remember?" he smiled. She hesitated then nodded and moved off to face the floating camera.

  "And that was Admiral Irons. This is Phyllis Diller signing off. My next report will be on the freighter Destiny with the relief forces." Irons chuckled at that walking off...

  "That was mixed. It should help the navy and merchant marine, but don't be surprised that the legislature grabs the glory in the end," Sprite warned. He shrugged.

  "But it may make you look bad," she finished.

  "You mentioned that."

  "That I did. Sorry Admiral, it's part of my job." He nodded.

  "Thanks," he grimaced. "Hopefully they will get the people into the deepest shelters they can. The bags of regolith they have over the domes are good against cosmic rays or a glancing hit by a radiation storm, but this flare is going to hit them head on," he sighed.

  "We'll see. They had some warning. They've also had seven centuries of dealing with crises like this, hopefully that counts for something," Sprite said. He nodded.

  "Remind Logan to step solar observatory platforms up the list. We don't need a repeat of this. Or at least not without more extensive warning," he said with a grimace. “We may have to build another tachyon emitter at some half way point and hand out receivers to the colonies so they can get the warning in time.”

  "Done. It's a bit late Admiral. Some would say like locking the barn door after the horses are gone." He shrugged.

  "Best we can do."

  "This is Phyllis Diller of Knox news reporting from the Port-Au-Prince colony. It's a shambles here, we've only seen the surface damage." The young woman's eyes were puffy, she looked like she was crying in her suit. The camera turned to view a shredded dome.

  "Behind me you can see a dome that was shredded when a bulldozer in the vehicle park nearby went berserk and ran up the side of the dome and then fell through the thin top when it's blade tore a hole. Only a handful of the two hundred and thirteen people managed to get into the airlocks before the dome and dozer collapsed on top of them. Those in outer locks were exposed to lethal doses of radiation."

  She blinked tears away. "Two other nearby domes failed when their life support, exposed to the elements, was fried by the radiation. Another dome a kilometer away blew out when a gas pocket superheated and exploded. We're getting quakes that are tearing some domes apart." She turned so they could see the geyser in the distance.

  "I'm told the debris in orbit of the colony is the people that were in the dome and their equipment. Men, women, and children," she choked back a sob then gave in and sobbed a little.

  "This is Phyllis Diller reporting," she cut the transmission.

  "She needs to work on her emotional detachment Admiral," Sprite said quietly.

  "Who could have detachment in a situation like that for the first time? With no training?" he shook his head, jaw clenched.

  "Blaming yourself now? Don't you have enough on your shoulders?" Sprite asked.

  His shoulders hunched. "Yeah, I screwed up. I should have put more emphasis on a warning net."

  "You are not a tea reader Admiral. You're mortal. Get used to it," Sprite answered tartly.

  "That doesn't mean I can't try," he sighed.

  "Well, the breakage is bad, but not a total loss. The last body count is over eight hundred with nearly as many suffering from radiation exposure. Destiny and the others have their hands full."

  "Firefly is en-route now. They dropped their load and should be arriving in about nineteen hours Admiral." Irons looked up to see Logan. He looked a little haggard.

  "Hit you too?" he asked.

  "Yeah. It's hitting everyone. Not being there is almost as bad as being in the thick of it." He shrugged helplessly. "I hate that," he sighed running a hand over his scalp.

  "Me too," Logan said. "You left Harris in charge though," he said after a moment.

  "I had to. It's time they started to stand on their own and learn to deal with a crisis. I can't hold their hand forever," he smiled bitterly. "No matter how much I wanted to be there too."

  "Yeah, me too," Logan said leaving.

  "I'm sorry about this Admiral," the captain looked embarrassed. Irons sighed then shook his head in resignation.

  "Don't worry about it Naomi, we'll deal with it. Get your things off Maya and settle in on Anvil. Report for duty tomorrow at oh eight hundred." He patted her on the shoulder as he entered the bridge. The ships had returned to Anvil after the rescue efforts on Port-Au-Prince a week ago.

  "Thanks Admiral," she came to attention and saluted. He did as well.

  "Dismissed," he nodded. Shelby and the bridge crew looked up in interest.

  "What's up?" she asked. He looked over to her and shrugged. Mayweather and Dan came over arms crossed.

  "You'll hear about it in the grapevine but you might as well get it from me now. Captain Naomi Samuels is getting married." This news didn't surprise the women. Mayweather nodded.

  "She's been engaged with what's-his-name on Anvil for some time. So?" she asked, eyebrow arched.

  "Well, she's also pregnant," Irons replied. She blinked then sighed.

  "Are you sure it's not a violation of article thirty two sir?" Dan asked hesitantly.

  "Not unless it was immaculate conception," Mayweather snorted. "There are two other officers on Maya, both are female. And Lieutenant Thorn is an elf." Dan blushed.

  "She's been with Dieter for nearly a year. Solid as they come," Shelby replied as well.

  "Just asking," Dan replied holding up his hands.

  "So why is this a problem?" Shelby asked. The Admiral grimaced. Firefly's avatar popped in behind him. He turned to the avatar.

  "Because a pregnant organic being cannot be posted to a ship, exterior work, reactor watch, or other dangerous posting. Regul
ations. They also get a six week post birth period for bonding with the child," Firefly replied. "You organics have strange customs." He shook his head. Shelby glared.

  "So that leaves a hole in Maya's chain of command. For the next year or so," Mayweather replied finally catching on. "What is she going to do now?" she asked intently staring at the Admiral.

  "She's going to work with commander Logan and the staff. I haven't fleshed out a role yet this came to me cold," he shrugged.

  "You mean shuffling paperwork," she replied sounding disgusted. "Talk about male chauvinism."

  "Or teaching. I said I'm not sure. She has a background in engineering so teaching a course while working at the shipyard wouldn't be to out of order. For that matter she could take a few courses while she's there," the Admiral said, this time with a bite to his tone.

  "Sorry Admiral."

  He nodded. "Apology accepted. This situation is a surprise to all of us," he sighed again, shaking his head.

  "But that still leaves a gaping hole in Maya's command structure," Dan said slowly.

  "Boy, nothing gets past you tactical geniuses," Shelby chuckled. Dan glared then turned to the Admiral. "Admiral I volunteer for the posting." Irons eyebrows went up in surprise.

  "You do?" Shelby asked suddenly aghast. "Dan you don't have experience commanding a crew."

  He held up a hand. "I've had the watch on Firefly for five months now. I've had the tactical department for four months. I think I can handle it. Or at least I need to learn how to handle it," he shrugged looking to the Admiral in appeal.

  Irons nodded slowly. "Good enough points. You'd open a hole here though."

  "I think I'm ready sir," Dan answered.

  "It's different than Firefly Dan," Shelby warned. Dan waved the warning off.

  "I've toured Sun-Yat with Harris. I think I can handle it." He turned to the captain who shrugged and looked at the Admiral.

  "Your call sir," she said. He grunted.

  "All right. We'll give you a shot. Don't make me regret it lieutenant commander." He nodded to Dan who broke out into a grin.