Destiny's Choice (The Wandering Engineer)

by Hechtl, Chris

  “Have you found anything more about this place?” he asked, looking out the window into the rain. He'd been going over his notes and decided to take a break.

  So far he'd seen slimy stone and lots of guards. Most of the courtiers and lords were in another part of the castle. He had thought about that, wondering why. Then speculation had taken hold. What if the monarchs wanted to keep them separate to keep the lords from making deals to import weapons?

  That led to another interesting thought. What if in their little coup the monarchs had gathered up all the energy weapons on the planet under one roof? It would make it almost impossible for anyone with simple spears and swords to go up against that kind of firepower and win. He for one wouldn't want to try.

  “No Admiral, and I don't think I'm going to. I'm at the long end of the LAN range. Which is pretty limited to begin with. Even more so with stone walls around us.”

  “So you are saying..?” he asked. He was starting to get cabin fever. This place was a nightmare for any scientist, let alone an engineer of his caliber. He'd thought about helping them, but after examining the situation dispassionately he'd given up in disgust. The list was endless, starting with bleach and going on and on from there. He'd taken to the exercise to keep boredom at bay but come to realize it was just a waste of time. The best thing to do with the lot would be to flush them all and start over.

  “That I'm running into a lot of outdated material, boat loads of hidden viruses that I didn't know were there, and crap I can't use that's cluttering up the corrupted index. And oh, by the way, the node I'm in is not the same one I was in when you were in the throne room. Apparently that is on a separate system.”

  “Interesting.”

  “I did get a brief tantalizing moment of conversation between Miss Mayfair and someone unidentified. It was less than ten seconds of poor audio.”

  “Spare me.”

  “It was about you Admiral.”

  “Oh?” He turned to look into the room so he could see her avatar better.

  “She was pointing out how you need a new place to live.”

  “Oh really,” he growled. Hell if he was going to stay on in this dump much longer. Three days was long enough. Three long days of greasy, barely edible food, no coffee, and enough insect contact to make him start to have a phobia about the damn things. Nope, he'd had enough.

  “I... Accessing. Someone just brought a tablet within range of the Wi-Fi port. I've piggybacked a signal through it to another system... ah, it's the Merlin tower!”

  He waited a minute when she didn't say anything further. “Well?” he asked sitting up.

  “Still accessing. Here is what I've got.” She began feeding him screened data. Some of it was redacted. “The redacted parts are where viruses corrupted data. But it looks like Merlin isn't in stasis. And he didn't escape.”

  “He's working in there?”

  “No. Apparently he offended the establishment and they cut his head off.”

  “Seriously?” he asked, eyebrows raised in surprise. “A techno nerd, one of the only ones...”

  “Apparently after the coup he became redundant.”

  “You mean he outlived his usefulness.”

  “Yes. I'm in his personal journal. He speculated that it would happen in his last few entries. The last one was of him saying he had a meeting with the red queen. I'm compressing a copy for further review... there is a video of him. Do you wish to view it?”

  “Spare me,” the Admiral said in disgust, tossing a pebble down into the fountain below. A young girl looked up to see him and then looked away. Her braided hair bobbed as she moved off.

  He stared into his goblet and tried not to think of the mercury in the paint. Not to mention a rather unhealthy dose of lead. Lead was a soft metal, easily worked. It was also poisonous, affecting children in rather disturbing ways. He wondered if that had anything to do with the mental faculties of the natives. He nodded politely to the woman next to him. She had silver ribbons braided in her white wig and a hairnet of fine gold wire. “So you like this world?”

  “Oh yes my lord,” she said, fluttering a feathery fan in front of her. She had enough make up on to well, the thought didn't bear thinking about. Okay, enough face paint for a shuttle, not a tin can as he'd originally started the thought with.

  He toyed with the stem of the glass for a moment. She was coming on to him strong. Really strong. Which was both amusing and annoying. He wasn't ready for something like that so soon after April. Even if he could get around the face paint, lack of hygiene and over use of perfume to compensate. She wasn't quite fat but she had ample cleavage and a bright yellow smile. He was surprised she had most of her teeth.

  “Are you from around here?”

  “No my lord. I'm from the country.”

  “Ah. Which?” he asked, looking around to their dinner companions. Most of the time the lords and ladies were dressed in the colors of their house. He was still trying to get a handle on who's house belonged to what color. She had an off white gown on, with a purple coat trimmed with pinkish fur. There were only a few stains on it, most were on the front lapel. There was a suspicious stain stripe on her left flank. Either she wiped her hands there or someone had wiped something else there. He didn't want to think about it.

  The king and queen had not made an appearance. He hadn't seen them or the Pyrax delegation since their arrival. He was curious about that. He realized that the monarchs were busy. Perhaps they were in conference together? He'd been surprised to see at least Willis here tonight. What about the others though? They had to eat sometime right?

  “Darque sir. On the western coast,” she said adjusting her bosom. Sprite's avatar rolled her eyes on his HUD.

  “Hussy.” He grimaced slightly. He didn't need Sprite pointing out the obvious.

  “You are an officer my lord?” She fluttered her eyelids at him, fingers stroking his hand.

  “Admiral. Fleet Admiral. Federation Navy. I'm a sleeper,” he answered automatically, watching a pair of lordlings fight near a corner. Edged weapons had been banned. The young men were brawling, without any science or tact. He winced as one man bit the other's ear. The other man snarled, punching the first in the stomach. The biter didn't let go however. No one seemed eager to break them up. On the contrary most were cheering them on.

  “Admiral?” the woman said breathless. He looked at her. “You commanded ships?”

  He turned to her. “Starships, yes. I'm an engineering Admiral actually. I prefer building starships. Or the facilities to build ships.”

  “You don't say,” she said huskily, stroking his arm with her fingers.

  “What a piece of work,” Sprite said in disgust.

  “Do you know as much as Merlin?”

  “None knew as much as he. Though he was a fool in the end,” a partier said from down the row.

  “I don't know much about Merlin,” he said. “I don't know his education, or skills.”

  “You would have if you'd let me brief you,” Sprite sighed. He clicked his jaw. “Shutting up now.”

  “I believe I am much more... educated than the person you call Merlin.”

  “To be able to build ships you would have to!”

  “I'm afraid the machinery to build such wonders is long gone,” a nearby gentleman said politely. He wiped his greasy hand on his leg and then burped.

  “No, it exists now in Pyrax,” Miss Willis said. He glanced at her. She was a yellow sun in this somber group. The two of them were the only ones not sporting white wigs and face paint. “Thanks to the Admiral,” she said with a polite nod his way.

  “True, they couldn't have done it without us,” Sprite said on his HUD.

  The courtesan turned wondering eyes on him. There was far to much calculated interest there. “Do tell?” she murmured with a smile. He winced as the mole on her chin wiggled.

  “I am a sleeper from the past,” he said. “I worked with another sleeper who had awoken before me and we've been rebuilding
the fleet.”

  “After fighting off pirates,” Willis said, interjecting with a soft smile. He wasn't sure what her opinion of the woman cozening up to him was. She was probably highly amused by it.

  She looked good, dressed as she was. Definitely a breath of fresh air in this over perfumed group of peacocks. The one true beauty in the lot. He felt a pang of guilt over that thought, it felt like he was betraying April. He let the thought die as he watched the courtiers react to her comment. Apparently he was the entertainment for the evening.

  “Pirates! Why how dashing!” the courtesan said smiling again. He tried not to wince at her yellow teeth.

  “I am surprised you didn't see them here. They passed through the system. Your neighbors in Agnosta were hammered.”

  “I dare say they didn't wish to tangle with their majesties,” a guard captain said and then burped. He slapped a servant on the ass. She squeaked. “More ale!” he roared.

  “Right away my lord,” she said and scurried off.

  “Smart of them,” another lord slurred in agreement, hoisting a tankard of ale. The bar wench placed one in front of the guard captain. He took it, glanced at it's contents and then smacked it with the lords.

  “I'll drink to that!” he said and they drank.

  “Was it some fight?” one of the lordlings asked. Irons turned. It was one of the kids who had been fighting earlier. He was nursing his ear and black eye.

  “Not bad. They didn't know what hit them.”

  “Were there many casualties?” the courtesan asked, fluttering the fan.

  “On our side? Not many. A handful I believe. Their side was heavily hit. Most of their small craft were battered into scrap and had no survivors.”

  “Ah.”

  “And after they did that they put in a shipyard. We traveled here in Destiny, one of the ships the fleet liberated.”

  “Fleet?” a man guffawed. “A fleet you say? Of how many old and broken down freighters?”

  “Not many freighters. A couple of tin cans, some small craft, cruiser, and a battleship. We are building more now.”

  “You don't say!” the man said, eyes wide. He was very drunk. Irons shook his head as the man swayed and then fell face first into a cream pie. He winced as people roared with laughter.

  “Why are you here?”

  “Why not? I was planning on coming out this way to see the area and to set up bases to help civilization return to what it once was. I'm here for a look and brief vacation before I head back to the ship.”

  “Ah.” The woman fluttered her fan, lips puckered at being upstaged by others.

  A man yawned. Irons grimaced at the show of broken yellow teeth. Another spat on the floor. He looked away only to see another man pissing in a corner. Looking away from that his gaze fell on a couple getting busy in the opposite corner. They looked like they were enjoying themselves. He grimaced and closed his eyes briefly.

  “I think I'll call it a night,” the Admiral said, yawning and then stretching theatrically. “I'm looking forward to seeing more of your world tomorrow.” He got up and walked out as the others murmured.

  He made the turn out the door and looked back out of the corner of his eye. Miss Willis was talking to the courtesan. The woman seemed a little exasperated about being held back. He made a mental note to prop a chair under the door handle and to thank Willis in the morning. Or at least the first chance he got.

  Chapter 26

  The Admiral grimaced as he walked around the castle. So far he hadn't gotten out. He had been headed off with every kind of excuse. True the first few days it had rained hard, so he hadn't pushed the issue. He really didn't want to slog through the mud and muck on this planet if he didn't have to. That wasn't what he considered a vacation. But now four days later it was bright and sunny. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. He didn't intend to spend his entire vacation staring at the inside of a moldy stone keep.

  “I am heading out for a look around,” the Admiral said as he walked to the gate. He was seriously considering just walking back to the space port. He was sick and tired of the crappy accommodations.

  A portly bearded guard held out a hand. “You need a pass.”

  “I am a guest on your world. I've already been invited on a tour. You seem to have one going now.” He waved to the tour group he could see leaving in the carriages. He should have joined the group.

  “You were not invited. We were told to keep you here,” the guard responded, disinterested in him. He turned back to the guard.

  “You were, were you?” Irons asked eying the belligerent guard. The guard was young, probably in his twenties. In other words not quite gone to drinking and fat just yet. “Any particular reason why? And why me? And not them?” He indicated a woman. From the hair it must have been Miss Willis. She was going with the group but the carriage had guards. Which was odd, since they didn't have any coming in from the port.

  “We just follow orders,” the guard said with a sniff. Irons jaw tightened as he stood straight and locked eyes with the suddenly nervous guard. “Um, sir.”

  “Right. A soldier's excuse,” he said gruffly after a moment.

  “Perhaps the king wishes to take you hunting sir? I believe there was some mention of that. Later today or tomorrow,” a servant at his elbow suggested. “I'll just escort you back to your rooms so you can change.”

  “I've got a better idea. I am going to go speak with Miss Mayfair,” he said turning to them. “Got a problem with that?” he asked, letting a menacing subsonic growl enter his voice box. He hadn't seen the little witch since their first introduction to the king and queen come to think of it. Perhaps she was behind this? It was time to find out either way.

  “Um...”

  “Better not,” the Admiral growled walking off. “Sprite what the hell is going on?” he asked under his breath, getting a look around with his implants Sprite had already plotted a course to the guest wing for him. The guards weren't looking out, most were watching him. “Did I get ratted out or something? Are they worried about me contaminating someone?” Damn it, was he going to have to put up with this crap until he shook Mayfair off?

  “I'll look into it Admiral. But only a handful left in the tour group Admiral. The rest are in their quarters locked down.”

  “Oh?” he paused. “Then who just left?”

  “Servants in their spare clothing,” Sprite answered. “I'm curious if they are trying to escape this place or not. From the look of the guards going with them I doubt it. Which makes me wonder.”

  The thought of servants pretending to be tourists made him pause. He didn't envy the others if and when they got their clothes back. It would be better to burn them to keep from being infested with vermin. But why the elaborate charade? And for who's benefit was it? “Oh this gets better and better,” the Admiral growled. “Any idea why they would be leaving like that?”

  “To keep up appearances? Honestly, the logic of organics sometimes escapes even me Admiral.”

  He scowled, coming to a decision. “Right. Okay. I want you to check on what's going on. Take over the entire system. Full access. Full authorization to break anything you have to do. Get me intel. I have a bad feeling I will need it soon.”

  He made his way through the castle to the guest wing. The page who had been sicked on him had been easily distracted. A simple puff of chloroform his nanites had constructed had knocked the lad out. A guard nearby saw him but didn't stop him as he passed and knocked on the door.

  “Admiral ah, come in,” Miss Mayfair said as she opened the door. “I was ah, hoping you would drop by. It seems we have an audience with the king and queen in an hour.”

  “I heard something about a private hunting trip. Something used as an excuse to keep me in the castle,” Irons replied grimly. The woman had changed into a spare outfit.

  She looked up at him with a mixture of annoyance and fear. “We too have been restricted to this wing,” she admitted and then grimaced. “Without indoor plumbing I might
add. Disgusting,” she said wrinkling her nose and looking a little pale. She shook her head. “I haven't had a shower in days and I must say this is terrible.”

  “Tell me about it,” Irons sighed. “I think we should go talk with the king and queen.”

  “I'll just ah, go on ahead. To make sure everything is okay,” Mayfair said, practically jogging off as Miss Willis expertly delayed the Admiral. Irons grimaced. Well played ladies he thought, blocked by the chatting Willis.

  “Where did you come from?” Irons asked. “I thought you were in the tour group?” he asked Willis. She shook her head no.

  “Since when does the leader of a delegation play errand boy?” Sprite said with exasperation. “I swear the entire concept of protocol is lost on these people,” she shook her virtual head.

  The Admiral grunted but didn't give any other outward sign as he nodded to Miss Willis and her polite conversation.

  “Their royal majesties will see you now,” a page said in the doorway. They turned and followed the boy out of the waiting room. They made their way through the corridors to the grand hall. The rich red carpet was noticeably missing. The guards were looking at them coldly, dispassionately. Something was definitely wrong, it was time to find out what.

  From the look of things the guards had been tipped off that something was about to go down. He didn't like the ominous feeling that kicked off in his gut. He sent a signal, readying his shields and defenses.

  “Is he wearing what I think he's wearing?” Sprite asked as they entered the throne room. The Admiral's knowledgeable eyes turned on to the figures on the throne and quickly recognized the armor for what it was. It didn't take long for his practiced eye to take in the details.

  “If you're asking if that's powered combat armor, it is. Militia grade. About two hundred years out of date before the war,” Irons replied grimacing. The armor was nice, clearly touched up and gilded with gold and silver leaf on the edges. Ribbons adorned the pauldrons and chest plates. The standard of the king was on each shoulder in gold with red ruby eyes.