Fool's Gold (The Wandering Engineer)

by Hechtl, Chris

  "I was wondering how you can deal with being in a place built for someone bigger?" he waved to indicate their surroundings.

  "Well, just because you're bigger doesn't mean you’re better you know," Thorn replied. Shelby smiled as she went to the bar and picked up a plate and started to pile it with salad. Five weeks and the lieutenant was now an integrated member of the crew.

  "I've got better senses than you. And a few you don't even have," Thorn said. The whiskers above each of her eyebrows twitched.

  "Um ah, I didn't know that ma'am. How?" he asked eyebrows down.

  "How what? How can I have senses so much better than yours?" Thorn asked. "Or how can I have them yet still think?"

  He nodded. "Both ma'am. I took the course on basic anatomy when I was younger and a refresher in college, but it doesn't seem right," he shrugged helplessly.

  "Brain size is a bit complicated and not always related to intelligence ensign," doctor Standish answered. Shelby turned to see him sitting in a corner playing chess. He looked up.

  "Each sense has its own unique pattern in most species, and take up volume, but volume is only part of the equation. Density and neural network connections... not to mention training also play a part," Standish smiled to the young man.

  "You're saying she's I mean, her species brain is denser than our own?" the ensign asked.

  "Sounds like you’re the one being dense here," Thorn said. Shelby chuckled.

  "Old earth parrots and crows were intelligent. Some had complex reasoning and problem solving skills on par with human adolescents. They took tool and symbology to areas we didn't think could exist in a species outside our own before spaceflight," Standish replied.

  "So you’re like a parrot?" the ensign asked looking at the elf.

  "Son, you've dug a deep enough hole, time you fill it or climb out," Shelby said intervening. The others in the room chuckled.

  "Oh ah, yes ma'am," he blushed. “Sorry ma'am,” he bowed to the elf.

  "Next time you’re curious ensign, look it up before you stick your foot in your mouth," Thorn said sweetly. Shelby frowned then shrugged it off.

  "So you served with my dad and the captain?" she sat at Thorn's table. "Funny, I don't remember you on the salvage crew."

  "I'm rather easy to miss," Thorn replied dryly.

  "I thought it was the exact opposite after you beat the captain in that last exercise. I didn't know anyone other than the Admiral could be that sneaky."

  Thorn chuckled. "The Admiral is an open book most of the time. He's a straight shooter with people. Most people translate that over to strategy and tactics, which allows him to get sneaky because they don't expect it."

  Shelby chuckled in surprise. "I'll have to remember that."

  Sergio smiled like a kid about to get a new toy. One of the other pilots, Maverick rubbed his hands together in glee. The door opened and they walked into the hangar.

  He could feel the air of excitement as he stood there, watching the crews working on the bird. She gleamed, factory new. Shiny, almost a mirror finish. Flawless. “There she is ladies and gentlemen. The Cobra. Our ride for the next couple of years,” he grinned as he walked over to the bird.

  “She's a sweet ride lieutenant,” a crew chief said.

  “You've flown her?” he asked, suddenly irritated. He'd wanted first shot at them. He'd waited two weeks for this. Two long weeks.

  “No the Admiral did personally. Took each of them out and ran them through their paces to make sure all the systems integrated properly. He did it right off the line.”

  “Oh.”

  “Seems like we should have gotten them sooner. A lot sooner,” ensign Kes said shaking her head.

  “That's 'cause you don't know what went into them. We've been stockpiling basic parts that are common on all the fighters in the inventory for a month. But well... some of this stuff is a hell of a lot more complex than your shuttle or average work pod.”

  “Looks the same as in the sims.”

  “Oh I dunno, these seem a lot sleeker. Meaner. Ready to fly,” a voice said on the other side of the craft.

  “Well, gather round kiddies, I'll fill you in. You can also check the tutorials in your inbox later,” the chief said hopping off the wing. “Standard delta wing craft. Central body with a flattened fuselage. Nose sticks out a bit. Sensors are here and here,” his hands ran over the nose cone and along the flanks.

  “Here is your rail gun. Other side is a particle gun. The rail gun can fire dumb rounds, sand rounds, or smart rounds depending on what you or the AI on board select.”

  “There is an AI on board?”

  “Basic AI. No personality. A dumb AI,” the chief said shrugging. “She'll manage the ship for you, do your math, run the repairs and act as a RIO. That's rear information officer.” They nodded.

  He turned. “Moving on, she's got four layers of skin. The outer layer is a nanite shell that does a host of things, like dissipate heat, repair light damage, active camo, and some passive sensors. It's also got a cool crystal effect. If you hit it then it turns hard. Basically it flows to the striking point and forms a diamond there from the kinetic energy. It can shrug off some pretty good hits.”

  “Ah.”

  “I think I'm in love.”

  “I saw her first,” the chief growled.

  “Carry on chief,” Sergio said shaking his head at the byplay.

  “Aye aye sir. She's got four micro fusion reactors to power her fusion and force drives.”

  “Why fusion? That will limit what we can do in them,” a voice asked. The green haired youth popped his head around to look at the chief.

  “Well, we don't have the infrastructure for that antimatter stuff yet. And I dunno about you, but playing with dark matter or a quantum tap is hard enough without trying to do it in a one hundred centimeter cube.”

  “Oh.”

  “Why not?” a voice asked. Sergio couldn't place the voice. It might have been one of the other techs.

  “You kinda have to take all sorts of safety interlocks out. No room.”

  “Oh.”

  “Anyway, as I was saying, four fusion drives for sub light thrust. Also a wedge, but you gotta be mighty careful when and where you use it.”

  “We know chief,” Sergio said nodding.

  “Right. Shields, 1 terra rated for about ah...” he accessed his implant RAM. “About a thousand kilo's of force per square centimeter. It sounds like a lot but it won’t help if you get a nuke or something like a petawatt laser right on top of you.”

  “Good to know.”

  “And it'll get ripped to shreds by a gravity round.”

  “Chief...” Sergio said patiently.

  “Huh?” the chief blinked. “Oh. Ah, external and internal hard points...”

  “Why wings?” Sergio asked.

  “So it can be a multipurpose craft. Also wings can serve as extra storage space for fuel, and a place to hang externals off of,” the chief said absently. He touched a wing surface.

  “Speaking of which, this is the wing surface. She's got micro-actuators in each wing to let it articulate for control in an atmo. This here... he ran his hands over the fine mesh in front of the drive pods. “This is your bussard ram scoop. It's got micro tractors along the rim to suck in interstellar hydrogen and materials to supplement your fuel supply. You can also use it in atmo to refuel if need be.”

  He ran his hands over the underside of the wing root and side of the fuselage. The nanotech skin flowed away and panels popped open. Looking inside they could see another rail gun.

  “Smart rail gun, used to fire the internal ordinance. You carry thirty six nuclear tipped rounds. The rounds are smart rounds, and can be pre-programmed for course and variable yield along with targeting criteria.”

  “That's it, now I really know I'm in love,” a voice quipped. Sergio sighed.

  “You'd better be. These things were a bitch and a half to get right. Five months of work went into this before we got it right.
Blood, sweat, and tears for them. We've got twenty of them, with another sixteen in the works and a warehouse for parts and supplies. You so much as think about dinging them and the Admiral will clip your wings fast.” The chief glared at them all. “That is if he gets his hands on you before I do,” he growled. A mechanic behind him nodded, tapping a wrench in her hand.

  “Thanks chief,” Sergio said, suddenly sober. He looked at his crew. “We'll do our best.”

  “Just bring them back in one piece. You, hell you are optional.”

  The crew chuckled at that.

  Sergio shook his head laughing. “All right, we get the message.”

  “No problem. Let me show you the cockpit,” the chief said waving back the way they came. They turned to see a robotic stair case come over and extend itself. “Now, she's got the same basic controls as the other fighters, so you should be familiar with them...”

  Enrique shook his head at Logan. “Is he serious?”

  “As a heart attack,” Logan shrugged.

  “But a plasma tap? On a sun?” Enrique blinked. “On our sun?”

  “It's not like it'll hurt it,” Logan said snorting. “It's not even new. The technique has been used for over a thousand years.”

  “Oh,” Enrique blinked as he sat back. “Why..”

  “In a word? Antimatter,” Logan grimaced. “There are two different means to make it. You need a power supply and a particle accelerator for the first. For the second you need to find a pocket of antimatter out there in the void. Good luck with that,” he snorted.

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “The power supply is the big thing. We can build accelerators easily. But to power them... Well, that's a tricky thing. You need lots and lots of energy. And the cheaper the energy the better.”

  “Okay, why not use fusion?”

  “Oh we can, but a tap is cheaper.”Obviously Enrique was still getting used to all the new things going on. The new technology. The kid was playing catch up. Technically he wasn't a kid, he was forty something, but he'd always be a kid to Logan.

  “Doesn't sound like it. Tapping the sun? Isn't that going to take energy? Shielding?”

  “Oh scads. Energy shielding and armor. The initial outlay will be extensive. But in the long term the costs will amortize themselves and we'll be in the clear.”

  “You said there is another method?”

  “A QT. A quantum tap. Also known as a hyperspace shunt. Basically we put a platform in hyperspace near a gravitational rift. The flow of natural energy can then be tapped and used to power the accelerators.”

  “That... sounds complicated.”

  “Extremely. You have to get the shunt built to spec, get it into position, and get it to stay in position. For long, long periods of time. Then of course you have to dock with the station to get the antimatter off. Another fun thing.”

  “Okay.”

  “Let's just say docking in real space is one thing, docking in hyperspace takes a hell of a pilot. Ssislli.”

  “Oh. So that's why he's behind the resurrection projects.”

  “No, that's just human decency at work,” Logan shook his head. “They deserve a second chance. If we get them back, any benefit they provide is gravy.”

  Enrique scratched his head. “I sometimes forget the Admiral is a decent man.”

  “You've been hanging out with too many politicians again then Enrique,” Logan teased, smiling.

  Enrique laughed. “Yes, entirely too true. But you say the plasma tap is easier?”

  “For us. We set up a platform on the edge of the photosphere that's heavily shielded. Then it bores down into the sun with a siphon. Basically a gravitational tractor.”

  “Oh,” Enrique blinked.

  “It ah, sounds dangerous sir,” a tech said behind them. Logan turned.

  “That is because it is,” Logan frowned. “You have to balance the gravitational pull of the star to keep the platform from falling in. Add the tractor to the mix...”

  “I was thinking about possible solar storms. Imagine one directly under the platform?”

  “That is also a problem. Fortunately there is a solution. Two of them. The first is that you suck the storm dry destabilizing it before it pops. Or, you move the platform when you see one coming.”

  “Oh.”

  “So this siphon sucks up plasma?”

  “Yes. It acts as a straw pulling the plasma up from the suns photosphere. We then process it on the platform and either beam the energy to waiting receptors, ship the plasma off, or have the accelerators right there built into it.”

  “Cool,” the tech said smiling.

  “Damn hot if you ask me,” Smithy said. Logan chuckled.

  “Pretty much,” Enrique said nodding in agreement. “And you say the Navy is going to build one of these platforms?”

  “Oh not right away. Hell, most likely not for a couple years. Once we get Prometheus out we'll start putting the pieces together. We're starting to stockpile them now. It'll take that long to get enough going before it's worthwhile to have a dockyard to assemble them.”

  “Oh,” Enrique shrugged. “So, I take it the assembly need not concern itself?” He held up his hands. “That's the lieutenant governor in me speaking.”

  “I didn't say that,” Logan frowned. “It is their star system after all. But they can help subsidize the work for a share of the energy if they would like to do so.”

  Enrique rubbed his chin. Smithy cocked his head at him. “Is the assembly as forward thinking as that? Can they really plan that far ahead? Right now it is pretty chaotic. They bumped that conference again at the last minute. I heard it caused quite a scheduling mess with a lot of people who were already en route.”

  “I know. The Admiral was one of those people. Let's just say he wasn't happy about it,” Logan said frowning. “I'm not sure why they are insisting he attend it,” he shrugged. “Not my problem anyway. But yeah, they do need to start focusing on the future and not short term political games.” Enrique winced.

  “It's never too late to start planning for the future,” Enrique answered. “I'll put a bug in some ears. Thanks commander,” He nodded to Logan.

  “Sure thing,” Logan said getting up and walking out.

  There was a knock on the frame of his door startling him. The Admiral looked up in surprise. "Angie?" She came in biting her lip.

  "Admiral can I speak to you for a moment?" When she got closer he could see that her eyes were puffy and there was a hand print on her face.

  "What's wrong? What happened?" he asked suddenly wary.

  "I want to transfer to the navy sir," she came to stand in front of his desk. He steepled his fingers.

  "What brought this change of heart? The hand print on your face?" She blushed.

  "Yes sir."

  "It is quite a doozy. Tell me about it Angie. But first," he pointed to the chair. "Sit." He turned. "Chief..." The steward stuck her head out of her hatch.

  "Yes sir?"

  "Get miss Angie a drink. Beer?" he asked turning to her.

  "Do you have anything stronger sir? It's been one of those days," she said shakily as she lowered herself into the chair. He nodded.

  "I've got just the thing coming right up."

  A moment later the chief set a drink in front of Angie and a bottle. "Thanks chief," she said taking a sip then pouring another. The chief patted her shoulder then nodded to the admiral and left.

  "Feel better?" the Admiral asked.

  "No, now I feel like my throats on fire too," she chuckled.

  He smiled. "So what happened?"

  "Uh..." she sighed sitting back with the drink. There is a ball tonight. A group of representatives have been after me to make jewelry for them and their partners before some ball or something or other," her voice dripped disgust.

  “I wonder if that was why that conference got bumped,” he muttered. She looked over to him. He waved. “Never mind, continue.”

  "Like I would drop everything to make jewe
lry for those idiots," she snarled drinking the drink.

  "So you turned them down?" She nodded.

  "One showed up in replicator one. She tried to reprogram it to make her a diamond and pearl necklace." She held her fist up. “Fricken diamond the size of my fist. Bloody stupid.” The Admiral winced.

  "Right, I see you know the problem. The replicators can't make artificial diamonds, that takes immense pressure, time and a plasma field... not to mention a seed," she said caustically. She had slapped her hands and then rubbed her temples. He gave her a curious look. She shrugged. "Logan taught me," she explained. He nodded in understanding. Most people were still coming to grips with the changes. Logan had told him about the conversation about the plasma tap with Enrique over a beer the other day. They'd both had a laugh at it.

  "So you tried to explain it to her?" he asked. She nodded. "After I found out she screwed up the replicator and the tray of plasma injectors it was making. It's going to need a rebuild Admiral. Sucker locked up tighter than a straight guy's ass at a gay bar."

  He groaned softly. "Great. Now I know why you're pissed."

  She shook her head. "That's not the half of it. She slapped me, ordered me to do it. I picked up a wrench, she left." She ran a shaky hand through her hair. "She's damn lucky she ran, I was pissed." She shook her head. “I would have embedded it in her fricken forehead,” she snarled then sipped again.

  The Admiral nodded. "What happened after that?"

  "Enrique called me to his office. An aide to the representative was there. He spent twenty minutes bawling me out. I quit." The Admiral grimaced as she took another drink and downed it.

  "Damn," he sighed in sympathy. "I'll talk to him."

  She nodded. "It's not going to help though sir." He nodded. As the lieutenant governor of the system Enrique was caught between a rock and hard place. And an assistant engineer, no matter how good was expendable when politics was involved.

  "So am I in? Cause if I'm not the next stop is the merchants. I'll be a chief engine wiper, anything to get off this damn screwed up station." Angie was starting to slur.

  Irons nodded. "I'll give you the evening to think about it and get over the hangover." The steward came in and swapped the alcohol with a bottle of water. She put a second down next to Angie's hand and a small serving dish with an analgesic pill in it.