Destiny's Choice (The Wandering Engineer) (6 page)

Destiny
had been one of those ships. He'd turned her over to the growing yard in order
to focus on other duties. She'd been mothballed for the better part of three
months until yard space had grown enough to take her in so she could be
restored.

Obviously
she hadn't had enough time in yard hands. Not nearly enough. He was finding all
sorts of issues, some major, some minor. He'd have to talk with someone about
that. If he ever got the opportunity again.

He'd
been driven out of Pyrax by his own stupidity and willful blindness. Stupidity
in turning his back on a group of corrupt politicians who had turned out to be
surprisingly good at manipulating him and the public.

He'd
also been rather stupid and arrogant in going down to Vesta alone. He knew that
now. He should have taken a marine escort. A group would have been harder to
have denied, harder to have contained and threatened. But he'd gone it alone,
wanting some Me time. He'd been sure his defenses and his AI were up for the
challenge. They'd found a way through them, a way that was disgusting and vile
but brilliantly twisted and well thought out.

In
the end it had worked. By his own actions he'd separated himself from his
people. Taking advantage of that they had forced a wedge in deeper and forced
him into choosing exile aboard Destiny or watch as twenty thousand innocent
people died. He couldn't do it. He had enough blood on his hands and
conscience. Enough for a life time, a thousand life times.

And
now here he was, he thought with a pang. Back to square one. No, further back
than that. The people on this ship hated and despised him. He was undermined
and had no way to fight it, the truth and evidence didn't work on this sort of
battlefield. He wasn't sure what would. He was sure of one thing though, he
wasn't ready to give up. Not on them or himself. Not by a long shot.

“Thinking
deep thoughts Admiral?” Sprite asked quietly.

He
shrugged, looking at the cables in his arm. “Just brooding.” He checked the
clock. Six more minutes to go. This was going to be a long day. He sighed. “Not
much else to do.”

“I
could use your help in here if you are interested,” she suggested. He pursed
his lips. He knew the suggestion was to help keep his mind occupied. To keep
him from brooding too much. Some of his pride warred with the idea of keeping
busy. Finally the call of duty won out. He smiled.

“Give
me a list,” he said, settling back and closing his eyes. After all, he had
nothing better to do with his time right now.

Three
days of being jacked in almost twenty four hours a day had led to the Admiral
being a little tired, stir crazy, and crabby. The crew however was going from
resentful or indifferent to his presence to almost companionable so he tried to
keep a lid on his emotional state.

It
was a fragile thing, but he was starting to treasure it. He didn't want their
angst, he wanted to get along. It was going to be a long trip after all.

One
of the first things he'd made was another industrial replicator. They'd
installed it properly and he was now using that one instead of his shuttle's.
That way they didn't have to refuel his shuttle.

He
looked around the room. It was mid afternoon shift, getting near supper. He'd
forced himself to take at least one meal and potty break a shift but he was
getting seriously tired of the routine.

He
didn't have a ship uniform. Just his standard gray military work coveralls. He
preferred them over anything else. Bailey hadn't said anything so he kept
wearing them.

He'd
seen a few of the other passengers in the ship companionways on the cameras or
briefly in passing. Most were dressed in various civilian outfits, comfortable
but not really practical on a ship. Again typical of civilians.

Take
for instance the blond Terran woman wearing a plaid miniskirt. Was that really
necessary? What if the fabric was caught? What about that ponytail? Did she
realize the long hair would get into all sorts of crevices and equipment
causing no end of headaches for the crew? He realized he was being petty and
schooled his thoughts to the task at hand.

“That's
the last for now,” he said getting up from the couch. Bailey had installed it
for him to make the longer sessions easier on him. It was a lot more
comfortable than the chairs and stools in the rest of engineering.

“Ah...
I think the purser wants to redo the number two hold...”

“I
said that's it for now. We've got a long trip. There isn't any point to wearing
myself out any more to do this all at once. I for one need a shower and sleep,”
he grimaced, running a hand through his hair.

The
tech reared back then nodded. “Yeah, I can imagine. You look a bit worn ah,
Admiral,” she shook her head. The crew was still feeling out how to fit him
into their midst. “You've been here all day?”

“For
three days. Non stop,” he grimaced rubbing the small of his back.

“Three?”
She stared in disbelief. She shook herself then nodded. “Yeah, I'd say that
earned a break. One shift or a double is one thing but three days?” she asked
as he climbed out of the shuttle then turned as it went into lock down. She
followed him out of the bay.

“Where
are you going?” the assistant purser asked coming up to him.

He
grimaced. “Shower, food, and a bed, not necessarily in that order. The
priorities are done the rest can damn well wait,” he replied, shouldering his
way past and not looking back.

“But
I... we need to get the next line going...”

“Give
the man a break! He's been working flat out for three days straight!” the angry
tech said shaking her head. “We've got a couple of weeks till we get out of
hyper. It'll keep!” she snarled. He felt a little better at hearing that.

Irons
suppressed a small grin as he walked on. He turned a the corridor, gave the
girl a nod which she returned curtly then kept going.

“Well,
that was fun,” Sprite said. “I see what you mean, you won a friend over there.
But probably made an enemy as well.”

“You
can't please everyone,” he shrugged. He was getting a bit tired of bending over
backward trying.

“Finally
figuring that out are you?” she asked as he entered his quarters.

He
sighed. “Do me a favor...”

“Can
the crap and go play in the net to give you some peace and quiet Admiral?” she
asked sounding amused.

“In
a word... yes.”

“It
figures. Night Admiral.”

“Night
Sprite.”

He
went over to the shower and started to undress. He grimaced as he thought about
ultrasonics versus a hot shower. Both seemed appealing, at least the massage
aspects of both. Technically he didn't need one, his nanites kept him clean.
But for his own sanity he kept up the habit. Besides, it felt good and helped
him to relax.

He
opened the shower stall door then frowned at the latch. It seemed broken. Odd.
He mentally filed it for a later day and left the door ajar as he turned the
ultrasonics on.

There
was a brief scream of electronic hell and a rippling sensation on his front and
chest that threw him backwards to rebound off the back wall of the stall. His
head buzzed and then his audio died as the glass wall shattered outward. He
fell to his knees, shaking his head as vertigo tore through him. He tried to
suppress the nausea but unfortunately some bile came up. He coughed and then
half crawled, half fell out of the stall. He felt the crunch of glass under his
hands. Most of it was powdered.

“What
the hell was that?” he said, loudly. He looked around. He couldn't hear
anything. “Sprite?” he asked looking up. His HUD was jumping around, flashing
red around the border.

“Accessing
Admiral,” a text line went across  his HUD. It flickered. His whole vision was
swimming. It blinked out for a moment and he felt a flush of anxiety. “I'm
sorry I was in the net.”

“You
were attacked,” Defender replied in text on the HUD. Slowly it stabilized.

“Audio
systems are severely damaged. You have significant sub-dermal damage to your
chest and back. Fortunately your shields came up in time to deflect most of the
internal injuries,” Proteus reported by text.

“Any
idea why?” he asked, brushing glass off of his hands and then grabbing a towel.
He stood carefully, watching the room swim. He felt/heard a pop in his ears.
After a moment the soft sounds of the cabin rushed back.

“Audio
repaired. Without first hand examination I cannot say what happened beyond an
obvious malfunction.” Proteus reported as he wrapped the towel around his
waist.

“That
was one hell of a malfunction,” Sprite commented angrily. “You were almost
killed. A millisecond more...”

“Enough
Sprite,” he growled. “Anything on your end?”

“No.
I cut power to the stall when it hit you.”

“Yeah,”
he coughed, covering his mouth. He pulled his hand away to see blood. After a
moment the blood faded, absorbed by the nanites in his skin.

“You
have significant system repairs needed Admiral. Please remain still,” Proteus
said.

“Hell
with that,” Irons growled turning. “Take a look a the lock. He held his right
palm over the face of the lock.

“Accessing,”
Proteus replied. “Shifting nanites away from repairs to investigation isn't a
wise idea Admiral. You require medical attention. You may need to visit the
sickbay. The lock can wait.”

“Hell
with that I said. I want answers,” Irons grimaced. “Just do it.” He closed his
eyes and watched the nanites move on his HUD.

“Very
well. Investigation already in progress.” After a moment Proteus came back.
“Admiral, the lock has been tampered with. Once it was latched it would have
locked you in.”

“How
did you know?” Sprite asked.

“I
checked it earlier. While you were busy in the net. Before we left Pyrax. I
went over this entire room with a fine tooth comb,” he shrugged. “I was bored
and had nothing to do.”

“Understood.
Admiral, the ultrasonics, the shower door. This was no accident.”

“Tell
me about it,” he growled.

“Ship
security has been informed. The security chief is off duty and will be here
shortly,” Defender said.

Irons
opened and closed his mouth, then worked his jaw. His teeth ground together.
“Now wait... wait just a moment.”

“Unfortunately
too late Admiral. I concur with Defender. An attempt on your life requires
notification to the authorities.”

He
sighed. “You know that it could be trouble.” He rubbed his brow, feeling a growing
headache. The nanites were too busy dealing with the damage to deal with his
low blood sugar and high blood pressure. He manually accessed his implants and
got the BP problem under control.

“Of
course, but protocol must be observed,” Sprite replied.

“If
you don't mind I'm getting dressed before we have company,” he sighed. So much
for sleep. Come to think of it, while he waited it might be a good idea to
check the place over again.

“What
happened?” Bailey asked, coming into the room a half hour later.

The
security chief looked down to the simian. “It seems the good Admiral had a spot
of mischief.”

“That's
suffered a mischief,” Sprite said acidly. “Get with the program.” Irons looked
up from the edge of the bed then back down. He still had a recurring headache.
It came back every time he moved.

“Headache
is normal. You should lay down, your blood sugar level isn't helping,” Proteus
cautioned.

“The
medic checked him out. He's refusing treatment though,” the chief of security
kept talking to the chimp.

“I
don't know why. Those bruises are nasty,” Bailey replied, eying the bruises on
the Admiral's exposed torso. They were fading though, which was wild and weird.
“What the hell happened?”

“He
can't hear you very well chief,” the Security chief sighed.

“WHAT
HAPPENED!” the chief yelled, tapping Irons on the shoulder. The security chief
and guard winced that the shrieking voice.

Irons
grimaced. “I can hear to some degree chief. I can also lip read to some degree.
You can talk normally,” he grimaced. “To answer your question, it looks like
someone sabotaged my shower.”

“It
could have been bad luck,” the guard muttered. “Been a lot of that going
around.” He grimaced as they both gave him a dirty look. He hunched his
shoulders. “Just saying,” he muttered. The security chief nodded to the door.
Sullen the guard turned and left.

“The
ultrasonic shower was set to fry me. Medium well actually,” Irons said as his
door hissed shut. A bot had already cleaned up the broken glass. Replacement
glass was on it's way.

“How
did you...” Bailey asked, looking warily into the shower stall.

“I'm
an engineer like you remember?” Irons said dryly. “I checked all these systems
before we left Pyrax and went over them with a fine tooth comb,” he said still
a little loud. “I was bored and locked in here with little to do.”