Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer)

by Hechtl, Chris

  Now the shuttle ports were kept at least ten kilometers away from the nearest town or city. For some reason this port was on the edge of three counties that intersected. Apparently they occasionally fought for jurisdiction over the port.

  The port wasn't as crude as the one on Triang, but it was still a far cry from the ones on Earth or Mars back in the day. He tried hard to stomp on such comparisons though. He didn't want to start looking down on them so much... nor start feeling sorry for what was gone and now for the most part forgotten. It was best to look at the situation as opportunity.

  The port had a nice strip, paved with crumbling cement. Still it worked, and whoever had put it in had been smart enough to add the proper slope and drainage ditches on the runways and taxiways. That was good. They had even added lines in the pavement to help shed the water when it rained. That was a very nice feature; it meant the runway wouldn't be slick.

  There were a dozen or so hangers, most were wooden structures. A few looked rotten. There was a small building for passenger check in and another next door for customs. The tower nearby was painted in red and white but looked functional, with big broad windows.

  The port also served as a local and regional airport so it made sense to have it not only functional but staffed full time. He was glad; it meant he could feel secure about leaving his shuttle behind unattended. Even if he did have to pay exorbitant fees for landing, fuel, and parking.

  Hazard had a temperate climate reminiscent of North America with its pine and deciduous trees. The road leading to Hazard City had willow trees lining it for some reason.

  The roads were a mix of dirt, gravel, and cement; it looked like the cement roads didn't hold up well, a road crew was out working on them at just about every intersection. The work crews had Hodges embroidered on the back of their uniforms.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Hazard itself wasn't much to look at; on the periphery were western style one or two story brick or wood structures. Most were painted in bland colors, with the general store's bright canary yellow being the exception. Closer to the center of the city more modern buildings could be found. Hazard was a new city, one founded after the fall so it was bootstrapping itself from the ground up.

  According to Sprite's briefing, Hazard had been a town up until about sixty years ago. A small Podunk town before the port had been relocated nearby to it. Now it was growing, not without some growing pains. It had a very high crime rate, something he wasn't happy about. Of course it wasn't his problem, but there was always the occasional mugger... too bad for the mugger if he tangled with him the admiral thought with a slight smirk. He could use a decent work out right about now. He hadn't had one in months. He rolled his shoulders slightly in anticipation.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Irons looked around, soaking the spirit of the community in. There were dozens of species here, Humans, aliens, and Neos. They tended to cluster in their own species, but here and there he could see some who were obviously friends or colleagues of other species occasionally getting together for a friendly chat or a wave hello in passing. It was good to see. It never failed to amuse him though that the colony had backslid so far. From what records Sprite had picked up they hadn't backslid too far, but hadn't picked up either. That was unusual in a way; with the core worlds gone you'd think somewhere a world or two would pick up and become the new center of things. Apparently with populations so sparse they were only now starting to cluster.

  Sprite cleared her virtual throat. He frowned, eyes still roving the area. She wanted something and he wasn't sure he wanted to deal with it just yet. When Sprite ahem-ed, he sighed softly. “What is it commander?”

  “Look to your left admiral,” she said quietly. A red arrow blinked on his HUD. He turned in the indicated direction.

  “What am I looking at?” he finally asked when the arrow stopped. It moved up and then pointed down to a Neo tiger, an aged Neo tiger missing a leg. He had a stump of a crude artificial replacement and freshly healed scars on body and face.

  “He's certainly been through the wars hasn't he?” Irons asked.

  “He and yes, war definitely,” Sprite replied. The Neo turned, feeling someone looking at him. Irons breath caught as he saw the reflection of metal, plastic, and glass on the Neo's right eye and arm. The eye rim was aluminum with a primitive camera lens. The arm was artificial from mid bicep down, cradled against the cat's side. He could see broken bits in between the tiger striped ripped outer shell.

  “Xeno war?”

  “Most likely,” Sprite replied quietly. Irons studied the Neo, knowing it was rude but for once not caring. The Neo had scars over the right side of his body, some old, some fresh and barely healed. He was aged, a century or more of real time in his life... most likely near the end of his life cycle from the white in his fur and film over his eyes. He'd lost a lot of fur, most of it on the right side. The left side had fared better but was still scared, he had scars across his arm and hand and left side of his chest. Irons could see a cable running across his chest, and a gold necklace peeking out under the fur. His interest was definitely piqued.

  The Tiger's muzzle wrinkled in a half snarl. He raised the muzzle, scenting the air and grimacing. Irons caught the sight of an aluminum fang on the right side before the tiger turned and left without a blink.

  “Where the hell did he go?” Irons asked, starting to move as he uncrossed his arms.

  “The bar admiral,” Sprite said as Irons trotted across the street. His feet hit the wood boardwalk serving as the front of some of the buildings and a primitive sidewalk. Sprite's karat pointed to an open saloon door. “Admiral a word of caution,” she started to say just as he entered the bar, pushing his way through the swinging double doors.

  His eyes immediately adjusted to the darker space. The room wasn't just darker for ambiance; most Neo's had good night vision and preferred the dark over a brightly lit sterile room. Wonder of wonders the room had power, with electric lights and a lit jukebox in the corner. His nostrils flared at the scent of various Neos in the room. There were dozens of most of the common species. The patrons became instantly quiet and turned to look at him with various looks of interest and contempt.

  The Neo gorilla bartender stared at him, still holding a bar rag. Irons nodded politely his way, disinterested in him. “This is a Neo bar,” the scared and aged gorilla behind the bar growled. Irons nodded to the silverback. He had a bit of a braided beard with a gold ring on the tip.

  “Sorry, saw someone here I was curious about,” he said, turning his head for a moment as he scanned the room, first looking for threats and then his prey. He didn't pick up on him on first look but knew Sprite would process the video and find him. The eyes saw more than the brain processed he thought. The silverback however chuffed in annoyance. He went over and dropped a silver coin on the bar and then turned, locking onto the familiar sight of the yellow Neo tiger. The tiger had his back to him and was talking with a blue Neo lion sitting in a corner booth. The tiger moved, at first leaning over the table and then taking a seat when his artificial leg bothered him.

  Sprite scanned the room, noting that the tiger had a limited Wi-Fi link but it wasn't sending a proper response. It did have a military transponder though. The jukebox also had a Wi-Fi link she noted in passing.

  “Hank, please man, I need it fixed!” the tiger said, indicating his eye.

  The blue Neo lion shook his head mournfully. “I'm sorry Nohar, I don't have the parts anymore, I wish I did. I just don't. No one but Pyrax makes them,” the blue Neo-lion replied, pushing up a pair of goggles on his head. Irons snorted softly as he approached their booth. Both Neo's froze and turned to look at him.

  “Who the hell is he?” Hank whispered.

  “How the hell should I know?” Nohar growled eyes on the human intruder. He like all the other Neo's knew better than to molest a human. Boss Hodges had more than enough pelts on his wall and floor from Neo's that were that fatally stupid.

  �
�You're the detective!” Hank growled. “Former client?” Hank asked, eying the man.

  “Not likely, though he does look familiar,” Nohar replied, studying Irons. He noted the military coverall and his good eye widened as that registered. He winced when too much light made the artificial eye go mad briefly.

  “We don't want any trouble here mister,” the bartender rumbled. Irons turned to him.

  “I'm not here to cause trouble. I saw someone like me and wanted to talk.”

  “There isn't anyone here like you. No humans,” a young striped Neo lion sitting on a bar stool nearby growled. Irons turned to him. He was hunched over his beer, tail flicking about, ears flat. “Best you leave little man,” he growled with a hint of subsonics in it.

  “In a bit,” Irons replied affably, not for the moment put off as he turned back and nodded to the tiger. The elderly tiger straightened, seeming to sigh. He was pretty sure his adopted nephew Rajar wasn't going to dissuade this character so easily. If his hunch was right no one in this room could. The blue lion looked at him and started to ease away from the tiger, rolling up a set of tools on a cloth that had been on the table.

  “Working on something?” Irons asked, coming over. “Can I get you a drink?” Irons asked, nodding to both Neo's.

  Nohar's eyes studied him. His ears flicked in amusement over the human's nonchalant bravery. “You don't even smell of fear,” he finally growled.

  Irons snorted. “Why? It's a nice bar.” He turned and waved to it. A pair of otters in a nearby booth looked up and chattered a laugh.

  “You aren't afraid of me? Of us?” Nohar asked, ears flicking in amusement. He was fairly sure why the man wasn't. The guy moved like he was ex-military, definitely not an imposter. The cover said navy, the gold leaves on top said high rank. That was interesting. He didn't truck with squids though.

  “I've had Neo's serve with me over the years,” the admiral replied, shrugging. That statement made many growl subconsciously provoking bad feelings in the room. “Served under a few Neo commanders too. You have the look of someone who served. Were you ground forces or Marines? Sorry but you don't have the look of Navy.”

  “Army,” the tiger replied automatically as his eyes widened in surprise. His eyes slitted even more and his ears were back as he turned carefully to show the ranger tattoo on his left arm. “501st.”

  “Damn,” Irons replied nodding. “One of the best.”

  “The best during the war, the best ever,” the tiger automatically replied, lips curling slightly. Irons realized the burns; it had to be plasma burns had chewed up some of the tiger's right lip exposing the teeth there. His face and entire right side was scared, the fur only patched or thin on that side. The missing right leg was new though. It looked like it had been amputated below the knee.

  “Well, I had friends in the 82nd who might have disagreed with that but that was then,” the admiral replied with a snort. “Plasma?” he asked cocking his head. He'd be damned if he ignored or dialed back his own curiosity. Cats weren't the only ones known for it.

  “Corona caught me,” the tiger replied, sniffing him again. “Sleeper?”

  “Yes,” Irons replied. “Fleet admiral John Henry Irons” Irons replied, right hand extended.

  “Don't expect me to pop to attention,” Nohar snorted, eyes flaring briefly. “The war was a long time ago. Sir.” His eyes flicked down to the extended hand. After a moment he shook it. Irons had been known as a straight shooter during the war, honest and an engineer, more into the nuts and bolts of things over playing politics. He was not particularly well known for his battles, more known for his occasional heroism before and during the war. He'd disappeared seven hundred... slowly he nodded and then flicked his ears. Yes, that Irons. Irons was more famous, or should he say, infamous now than before the war, mainly because of the events in Pyrax.

  “You know this character?” Hank asked. Irons flicked a glance to him as the handshake broke.

  “Yeah, heard of him,” Nohar admitted. His mind whirled over this event. What were the odds?

  “What's wrong with your arm?” Irons asked indicating the artificial one. It was crude, with torn wires inside. The plastic cover plate had been painted to match the tiger's fur, but it was now scared and tore up as if someone had clawed it. The central structure looked a lot like a real bicep bone. Many of the wires and hoses had been taped a few too many times.

  “Not just the arm, the eye, ear, and other implants too,” Hank replied before Nohar could reply. Irons looked at Nohar's right ear. There was an antenna sticking out of the ragged tip. Tiger's had large ears, his right ear was half of what it should be he realized.

  “Hard to keep them up in this climate? Or time?” Irons asked sympathetically.

  “Both. And parts are bloody expensive,” Nohar growled, flicking a look of disgust to the prosthetic mechanic.

  Hank spread his hands. Irons noticed the small tools in his hands. The lion was fiddling with something even while they talked. A plate of meat was sitting next to him, untouched. The beer stein was half empty though.

  “Hank McCoy, genius repairman, meet Admiral Irons hero of the Federation,” Nohar said, nodding to the admiral. Irons snorted.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Hank said quietly, eyes flaring wide.

  “May I?” Irons asked indicating the arm.

  “You think you can do something?” Hank asked snorting. “The UART won't respond. It's all screwed up.”

  “Really?” Irons asked, right hand out. “You plugged into another port? Run a bypass?”

  “They only rigged the one,” Hank sighed in disgust. “It was fouled with gunk after he rolled through something in an alley or sewer. The micro wiring is all messed up.”

  Irons turned to Nohar. Nohar's ears flicked. “I'm a detective,” he growled.

  The admiral nodded. “With the sheriff?”

  “Bite your tongue,” the tiger growled, eyes flickering in annoyance. “Private detective,” he admitted.

  Irons nodded. He wasn't surprised really, many soldiers who didn't want to be in law enforcement gravitated to security, merc, or the life of a private eye when they got out of the military. Just like a lot of navy men and women ended up in civilian shipping service in one capacity or another. “So you are trying to get parts out of Pyrax? Why not go there?”

  “I don't fly,” Nohar growled.

  Hank snorted. “After his last stint in stasis he's gotten claustrophobic.”

  “I was that way before. That just made it worse,” the Neo tiger growled. He shuddered, fur on end.

  Irons nodded sagely. “It's a bitch. May I?” he asked again.

  “What are you going to do without tools?” Hank asked. “You're not borrowing mine!” His hand paws sheltered his precious instruments.

  “No, I've got my own,” Irons replied. His right hand morphed as he touched the tiger's right arm. The tiger flinched, eyes going wide in shock. He was used to getting that reaction out of others, not the other way around. Hank's eyes were round as dollar coins, his ears flat on his skull. The admiral snorted at their reaction, there was nothing like seeing a cat get scared.

  “You... holy... Spirit of space what are you?” Hank demanded eyes wide, ears flat. Most of the bar had returned to normal conversation when they'd relaxed but Hank's distressed voice cut through the chatter like a knife. Silence reigned once more. The otters looked over the edge of the neighboring seat, eyes wide, noses and whiskers twitching in shock. One even had his mouth hanging open.

  Irons snorted softly, sending a mental command to turn his implants silver. He could feel his arm, legs, and face changing. They wouldn't be able to see his legs of course, nor his shoulder and chest, but the others would be enough to make his point. “I'd think that was obvious, I'm a cyborg too,” he said as Proteus went to work.

  It only took a moment to get around the damage to the UART port and into the prosthesis computer system. The power supply was corrupted, the internal batteries well past their i
mpedance. The wiring to the UART was broken, and the UART itself was corrupted. Irons felt the AI make the repairs and then begin assessing the system. Sprite leaped into the central processor and started digging through the files.

  “What the hell is that?” Nohar asked feeling the intrusion in his mind.

  “My AI. Hold still,” Irons said as the tiger flinched.

  “His audio processor has been repaired,” Proteus replied as Nohar swayed. “There may be some discomfort as his body adjusts,” he stated.

  “A little warning next time,” Nohar growled, good eye tightly closed. Playing around with his inner ear sucked. He felt nausea and fought it down with reflexive training.

  “Sorry, Proteus tends to dig right in and get things done,” Irons replied.

  “You mean you got in?” Hank asked.

  Irons nodded. The implants were crude, they lacked the ability to be self-powered by thermal exchange with the user's body or even draw power from his central nervous system. He felt like tisking. They couldn't even rig a calorie exchange engine? What is this the stone age? He thought. “And fixed a few things. His batteries need to be changed. Hank, can I call you Hank?” Irons asked, turning his head to look at the Neo lion. The lion nodded. “Do you have a replicator? Or access to one?”

  Hank snorted softly. “I wish.”

  “I'll get you one then. A small one,” Irons replied absently turning back to the Tiger as he watched the AI work up a list and then tick down it. “That way you can help Nohar here and any others like him.”

  “I...”

  “Think of it as veteran's affairs. I expect a healthy discount for them,” Irons said, still concentrating on the list of repairs Proteus was performing. Sprite put up a dossier, Nohar yellow tiger, former Army Ranger Sergeant of the 501st, medically discharged near the end of the war due to lack of facilities and a mental aberration to being transported by ship. He had a relatively clean record but his implants were substandard. Nohar like many had overwhelmed the surviving medics. Instead of putting them in stasis and working through them they had processed them and shipped them off to a crude hospital to recover making room for the next batch of injured. Irons could understand that, he'd lived it too. Nohar had apparently been put into stasis and had been on his way to a medical facility when his ship had been destroyed and he'd somehow been dumped in orbit of this world. Sheer luck most likely, Irons thought. Sixty years ago he'd been picked up and brought ground side where he'd worked as a servant until his eventual freedom.