Fool's Gold (The Wandering Engineer) (102 page)

“The
analogy is in...” Sprite paused. “Are you drawing a comparison between a
pyromaniac and this situation?”

“I
believe he is. Or at least the latter part of that statement. A pyromaniac is
obsessed with fire, while a fireman puts it out. Ergo...”

“Crap,”
Sprite muttered. “A political angle, I should have picked that one up admiral.
That devious.”

“Care
to share?” Firefly asked, sounding slightly exasperated.

“You
obviously weren't stuck with many politicians in your time,” Sprite said dryly.
“Trying to figure out how their minds work is like trying to navigate a black
hole.”

Irons
sat up and snorted. “What the Admiral in his finite wisdom has pointed out as a
possibility is that the pirates come in, terrorize the people, then the Horath
send in a ship to
rescue
them,” Sprite explained.

“And
the mock battle..”

“Is
just that. A light show for the population. The Horathian's drive off the evil
pirates, putting the colonists in debt to them. They can even set up some sort
of tribute system to have the people pay for security.”

“And
since they don't want to get raided again, they will fall all over themselves
to pay. Neatly sweeping the system into their corner. They don't have to invade
and subjugate the world, no guerrilla warfare, the people will be happy for
them to be there.”

“Exactly,”
Sprite said.

“This
also ties in with the rumors we picked up on Io 11,” Irons replied.

“How
do you figure?” Sprite asked.

“Remember
the Talasians the crew mentioned? They were fleeing a hate group.”

“Hate
group. Accessing log,” Sprite paused. She accessed the files and then squirted
a copy to Firefly.

“Your
saying that someone is driving out non Terrans?”

“What
better way to unite the population? Hate, paranoia, and fear are powerful
emotions. Throw a scare at people, then tell them their misery is someone's
fault, and you better get them before they get you and...”

“And
you have a recipe for the Nazi's all over again,” Sprite finished. “So that's
the other half of the political angle. Carrot and stick.”

“That
we know of. There may be more. What bothers me is what started this? There had
to be something in their past,” Irons said rubbing his chin.

“And
we're not going to get much from the pirate prisoners. None of them were
officers, and all claim to have a three monkey approach to life.”

“Three
monkey...” Firefly asked, sounding amused.

“Don't
hear anything, Don't see anything, Don't speak anything. Deaf, dumb, and blind
to all that goes around you that isn't related to your own little universe.”

“I
am pretty sure that is not completely true. But the analogy is acceptable,”
Firefly responded. “I wish we had more information. We need Intel.”

“But
we're not getting anything beyond that from the prisoners or the databases,”
Irons sighed. “And they aren't being exactly forthcoming.”

“No
more than they have to be. I believe the expression is 'like pulling teeth'?”

“Close
enough,” Irons grimaced. “We're going to have to lean on them harder then.
Shoot a memo to the intel shop to do so. Anyway, I believe we've got an
appointment though?”

“Right
you are Admiral. The assembly has finally got it's collective butt together and
that dog and pony conference is back on. Which we are or at least will be
headed out to now. Hopefully. Unless of course they change their minds again.
But in the mean time, you've got an oh six thirty appointment with chief
Wallace to go over the flag deck, then...”

Dan
shouldered his bag as he entered the lock. The marine guard gave him a look. He
opened his ID access. "Aren't you on the wrong ship Commander?" she
asked.

"No,
Maya is down to rebuild her drive and inertials for a week. I'm tagging along
to get some more practice in on Firefly's tac systems," Dan replied.

"Right.
Whatever," the marine said, checking his Id then waving him in. "Your
funeral if you get caught playing hooky I guess," she muttered.

"Not
really, Not when I plan on kicking the captain's butt in the sims," Dan
replied with a laugh.

"Yeah
right," the marine muttered watching him move off. "In your
dreams," she said softly.

“Admiral,
I'm just getting word of a secret session of the legislature.” Irons looked up
confused.

“What
the hell? Rumor again?” he asked.

“No,
this one sounds legit Admiral. Something is rotten in the State of Denmark,”
Sprite said, sounding worried. He grimaced. Something was definitely going on,
Sprite had been onto it for some time. Unfortunately since they were almost at
the conference site they couldn't investigate it in person. He'd have to wait
until he got with Judge Farley on Anvil to find out the skinny.

“Any
clue about what it was about? Who attended?” he asked.

“Enrique
and Judge Farley were excluded so our usual sources were absent,” Sprite
reported. “Enrique sounds like he's still pouting.”

“He's
the system's lieutenant governor, he's entitled to pout if they excluded him
from a political meeting. Convenient though. A little too convenient. I think
it's time we had a chat with the newly elected governor.”

“Ah,
I have an unconfirmed report that he was involved,” Sprite said.

“Oh
just peachy,” Irons sighed rubbing his brow. “This gets better and better.”

Firefly's
avatar was in his wardroom when he came in after lunch. “Something I can help
you with?” he asked, sitting down.

“Admiral,
I was... considering expanding my role.”

“You'd
like to do more you mean?”

“Well,
with a properly trained crew, I am starting to feel redundant.”

“Okay,”
Irons sat back.

“During
the last stages of the war I had officers that were frocked to their positions
due to emergency battle conditions, or to fill a vacancy.”

“And
since most were never officially confirmed they didn't get their full OCS
firmware update. Which is one of the reasons civilization fell like it did,”
Sprite responded.

“In
a nut shell yes. And I had to compensate for their shortcomings on a regular
basis. But the crew we have is good. Almost as good as when I first left
dry-dock.”

“So
your finding yourself on the sidelines?” Irons asked.

“Yes.”

“Do
you have a remedy you'd like to try?”

“Well,
I was actually coveting commander Logan's slot.”

“The
shipyard?” Sprite asked in surprise. “Or do you mean Shelby... oh the exec's
slot. I get it.”

“You
want to bump Shelby up so you can take over?” Irons asked. “Push her out of the
nest?”

“I
think she could handle one of the escorts Admiral. Or Prometheus. She has an
engineering career track.”

Irons
rubbed his chin again. “It is an interesting idea. And she does need to broaden
her horizons a little. You honestly think she's ready for the hot seat?”

“I
wouldn't suggest it if she weren't Admiral,” Firefly responded.

“Of
course  you wouldn't. All right. We've got some time before any of the ships
are ready. But for the record, I agree,” he nodded. “But we've got some road
ahead of us so let's not get ahead of ourselves just yet.”

“Aye
aye Admiral. Looking to the future is all I ask,” Firefly replied.

“That
we can and will do,” Irons nodded.

“Why
did you leave your old gear and that replicator in the launch Admiral?” Firefly
asked the next morning. He shrugged. He was on the bridge studying the potato
shaped colony. They had just finished orbital station keeping and were waiting
for word about the conference. Hopefully there weren't any more delays or
cancellations. He'd already put up with that crap three times in the past two
months.

“I
thought it would come in handy whereever I went.” He looked around. Vesta was
an asteroid colony, burrowed into the soft asteroid. The rock had been fused
into a warren of tunnels and equipment shafts. Since it was a soft colony it
was subjected to constant out gassing and freezing when one side was exposed to
the sun and the other was in shade. He could see a dim halo around the colony.

“Well,
you've got a few hours until the conference starts, are you going to study a
brief?” Sprite asked. He shrugged. Sprite knew very well he had only so much
tolerance for paperwork. That was why he had agreed to attend this conference
in the first place.

“You
could check the corridors Admiral.  They don't have a good map but it is a
challenge for some. I think they called it spelunking,” Dan said coming over to
him. Sprite's avatar gave him a dirty look.

“Now
that's an idea,” the Admiral smiled.

“Great,
going into a dark, dirty, mold infested rats nest just before an important
meeting,” Sprite said sourly. “It'll be a pain to get you into a clean uniform
in time you know.”

“Just
getting into the mental space Sprite. Think of it as research into the minds of
politicians,” the Admiral chuckled getting up off the couch.

“Right.
Well, since I can't talk you out of it, I'll get a map,” Sprite sniffed.

He
navigated the corridors but stopped when he heard the sobbing. He was in the
darkened half restored section of the underground colony. The walls were
plastic covered stone covered in graffiti and mold and mildew. “What?” he asked

“Sounds
like a child Admiral,” Sprite said, bringing up his audio sensors and enhancing
them. “Definitely a child. Timbre is makes it hard to make out gender or age
though Admiral. It is not a recording.” He scowled. What the hell was a kid
doing down here in the dark crying?

“Right,
can you call someone in security or social services?” he asked.

“I
can't get a signal Admiral.”

“Great,”
he tugged at his hem in irritation and walked around the corner. He studied the
rubble and trash until his sensors found a child hiding in a crate. Sprite
pulled up an IR image of what appeared to be a child in a fetal curl.

“Hey,
it's all right, are you lost?” he asked.

The
sobs stopped and it was quiet for a moment. “Go away,” the voice said.

“Sure
thing,” the Admiral turned.

“You're
really going?” the now confused voice asked gaining strength.

“Sensors
confirm the person is a male. Around eleven or twelve Terran standard Admiral.
Definitely human or human stock,” Sprite reported.

“Well
you told me too remember?” Irons said looking over his shoulder. “Unless you
want help?” he asked. “Are you lost? In trouble?”

“Yeah,”
the voice admitted.

“Aren't
you cold?” The Admiral asked. He could feel the chill on his face and his
breath in front of him. His uniform and implants were keeping him warm, but the
35 degree temperature was probably not healthy for an adolescent without proper
clothing.

“Yeah.”

“All
right, let's go some place it's warm.” He turned as the boy started to scramble
out o the box.

“I'm
not going to hurt you. I'm in the navy... It's my job to protect kids,” he
smiled.

“You
are?” the boy shrank back into the box.

“I'm
the real deal. Federation navy officer. I'm a sleeper. You may have heard of
me. My name is Irons. You can call me John,” he smiled again.

“You're
not going to hurt me?” the boy asked hugging his legs and looking forlorn.

“Voice
analysis indicates a child exposed to extensive trauma Admiral,” Sprite
reported. The Admiral gritted his teeth.

“No.
I'm not going to hurt you.”

“You're
angry,” the kid said, suddenly sounding frightened. The Admiral sighed, trying
to get a handle on his rage.

“Not
with you. I'm angry that someone would harm you,” he said trying to modulate
his voice so he didn't frighten the kid back into his shell. “Look, let's get
you out of the cold and dark. Maybe find some food and your family or someone
safe.”

The
kid peeked out of the box at him. “Food?”

Irons
smiled. “Sure kid. Here,” he pulled out a ration bar and tossed it in front of
the box. The kid reached out and grabbed it then he heard the rustle of the
wrapper being pulled off. The kid bit into it.

“Tastes
weird,” he said with his mouth full. The Admiral chuckled.

“It's
a basic ration bar. I keep one or two in case I get hungry or forget to eat.”

“You
forget to eat?” the kid asked coming out of the box.

“Sure,
all the time. I have people that yell at me for not eating too. I'm probably in
trouble now,” he said with a snort.