Fool's Gold (The Wandering Engineer) (89 page)

"We'd
have to shield them, insulate them against sun exposure. We could hollow out a
rock or two for the munitions depot. Keep the munitions as modular parts
instead of whole systems," Irons said slowly getting into the idea. He
nodded. "Add it to your list."

Logan
laughed. "Well, we'll get complaints about working them to death soon
Admiral." He got up. "I'd better get going before I come up with any
more hair brained schemes."

The
Admiral chuckled waving his hand in a shooing motion. "Go on then. I'm
going to check a few things then I'll squirt you some blueprints to look at tomorrow."

Logan
bowed. "Aye aye Admiral. Good night."

"Night,"
Irons replied absently as he stared off, studying the ideas on his HUD. Sprite
was already tagging plans from his database and cross referencing materials and
blueprints. He sighed.

"What?"
Sprite asked.

"This
is great. It feels like... a fresh start," he smiled.

"Maybe
for you. It's a boat load of work for me," Sprite answered. His smile
turned into a feral grin. “Gee thanks,” she said dryly.

Lieutenant
Purple Blossom hopped up onto the desk and sat down on a stack of tablets. She
grimaced. "You need a seat up here you know that?" she asked. He
laughed. "I'm serious. Not a bar stool either. A recliner. Say, my
size," she cocked her head at him, whiskers bobbing as her tail flicked.
He chuckled.

"And
how would I get you or your dad out of it when I needed the desk space?"
he asked going along with the idea.

"Point,"
she replied.

"So
what do you need?" he asked.

"Well
actually, I'm not here for you sir, no offense, I'm here for your alter
ego."

He
looked confused then nodded. "Sprite?"

"Here
Admiral. Oh hello Lieutenant Purple Blossom. Ready?" the AI avatar
projected herself on the nearest tablet. It happened to be the one the Elf was
sitting on. She got up hastily and then chuckled as she turned to view it.

"All
right you two, what's up?" the Admiral asked, sitting back. He needed a
break anyway.

"We're
working on the college syllabus and I'm using your notes to streamline some of
the advanced course requirements with miss assistant engineer here,"
Sprite nodded to the elf.

"Okay,
have at it," he pointed to his wardroom. "Over there please."
The Elf nodded, picked up the tablet and then jumped down and moved off. Irons
chuckled then shook his head and went back to work with a smile.

"Do
we really have to study the difference between a spoke and a sub header of a
spoke and how it relates to brainstorming?" a tech asked looking at her tablet
in disgust.

"What's
the problem here?" a chief asked.

"Oh
ah, we're discussing our communication's class chief. We're in brainstorming
and writing. We're trying to figure out how it applies to this," she waved
to the mess of cables. The chief looked blank.

"Spoke
and sub header?" he rubbed his chin. He didn't know what the heck they
were talking about. Which wasn't surprising. Six months and they were still
trying to get a handle on things.

"Any
ideas?" the tech asked hopefully.

"Haven't
a clue."

"Thought
not," she said dispirited. He shook his head.

"Carry
on." He moved off muttering about smart aleck kids.

"So
how did she catch you? Lasso? Bear trap? Or did she just trip and sit on
you?" Liam asked Vargess as they sat with a beer. Liam had moved up to
chief engineer of the station now that Shelby and Logan had moved on to bigger
and better things. He wasn't sure if he should be cursing them or not. Being
chief sucked. He got very little sleep and a lot of headaches. Having implants
was nice though. It had made the past six months or so barely tolerable. He was
pretty sure he had a handle on the routine now.

This
was his first day off since he started. He was looking forward to the downtime.
And some of the girls were starting to flock to him. That he didn't mind at
all.

"What
do you mean?" Vargess asked with a chuckle.

"Captain
Mayweather. Come on, spit it out, did she use some black magic or something?
Beat you into submission with a club? Personally I bet the bear trap," he
smiled as he took a pull of his beer.

"Yeah
come on honey, which is it?" Mayweather asked coming up behind Vargess. He
looked over his shoulder but she was already wrapping her arms around his neck.
Liam chuckled.

"Um,
ah, I plead the fifth?" Vargess stuttered, trying to play for time.

She
intercepted his beer and took a pull. "Nope. No pleading the fifth in the
military or with me," she replied smugly.

"Help
help?" Vargess asked sounding desperate. Liam laughed then grimaced.
"Damn, That's Purple Blossom. Gee, I've got to go." He tossed the
empty bottle onto the pile of others then got up.

"Seriously
help?" Vargess said looking desperate. "You got me into this!"
he looked at Liam as the chief made his way through the pub to the door. Liam
laughed.

"Sorry
to leave you in a lurch mate. Next time I'll rescue you. Promise," he
chuckled, shaking his head as he left.

"So
which was it?" Mayweather murmured in his ear.

"You
are not going to let this go are you?" he asked with a shaky laugh. Her
chuckle was more of a sensuous purr then a true laugh.

"Nope."

"Thought
not," he sighed.

The
breeze was a nice touch, he had to admit. He looked up to the sky, or at least
the holo projection of a sky and smiled at the clouds. Beams of sunshine peeked
out here and there as they drifted with the wind. "Nice touch," he
murmured feeling the heat of some sort of infrared lamp on his skin.

"You
think so? I think they overdid it to be honest. The art department is getting
into a realistic groove for some reason," Sprite answered. “I would have
gone with something stylized. Maybe Piccasso or Nomereti,” she said. He was
relaxing after a nice bout in the dojo. He felt the breeze dry his wet hair.

"Maybe
so, but I like it," he shrugged watching the students amble by. Several
waved. He nodded politely. A trio of students were arguing about class work at
the table next to him. He tried to tune it out as he sipped his drink. A group
of student jogged past then made the turn past the cantina's raised deck and
went off down the track and out of sight.

"I
don't see the need. I mean, why all that running? Honestly, why do you need to
learn to run if you’re on a starship?" a girl snidely asked. He sighed.
"It's some anal retentive thing the Admiral dreamed up," the girl
said with a snide tone. That he couldn't and wouldn't put up with. Least of all
when they were doing it right next to him. He turned.

"No,
It's been in practice for centuries actually." They froze turning to look
at him. "Running helps to build mental and physical discipline by doing a
repetitive task and doing it exactly right. Knowing you can do that, meet a
goal, is part of the exercise," he shrugged. "The other part is
learning to deal with the drudgery. The sheer boredom and learning your
limits," he chuckled.

"Then
again, there is also the exercise itself. Keeping fit is always a good
thing," he smiled. They looked at each other, mumbled a thanks then got up
and left muttering.

"You
asked for it," the Admiral muttered watching them leave, then went back to
his coffee.

"Admiral,
you've got a stalker," Defender said. He cocked his head.

"Show
me," he replied taking another sip. A window appeared on his HUD. Clearly
from a security camera from the point of view.

"Third
table on the right." The view zoomed in. A woman was sitting there with a tablet
up. A danish was in front of her.

"What
makes her a stalker?" Irons sub vocalized.

"She
has audio and visual bugs trained on you Admiral. She arrived when you did,
behind you. Also she hasn't eaten the danish yet. It's been ten minutes."
The Admiral grunted.

"Threat
level? She could be an Intel trainee. Or paparazzi. Or someone who is
nosy." He sat back and fought the urge to look at her with his own eyes.

"All
possible. Checking. She is not listed in the college student database Admiral.
Nor in the latest census. Immigration files accessed. "Dana Barrett, aide
to representative Raoul Pierre of the Centaurus platform space colony." A
picture of her was projected on the HUD.

"So
she's an aide. Definitely a spy," Sprite said. The woman tapped at
something on her HUD.

"Why
the nosy little minx! She just pinged me! She's trying to hack me! I'll show
her!" Sprite said.

"What.
Wait..." The Admiral said but it was too late. A pair of drones watering a
nearby bush suddenly stopped and turned on the woman. They sprayed her from
behind. She jumped to her feet screeching. The Admiral winced as patrons
turned. Her gear clattered to the floor. Another patron stepped on the bugs. He
winced, seeing the sparks as the kid danced away.

"That'll
teach her," Sprite said, dusting her hands on her HUD. The Admiral shook
his head as a waiter and manager came out to see what the commotion was about.
The drones flew off. The thoroughly soaked woman brushed off the helping hands,
picked up her gear then turned on the Admiral with a glower.

He
turned and cocked and eyebrow. Her glare was enough to melt lead. He shrugged
helplessly and spread his hands. She turned and flounced off with a half snarl
half sob.

"I
can't take you anywhere," he said as the manager started to come over to
him.

"We
have a situation." The Admiral looked up, tossing his stylus down on the
desk.

"What?"
he asked. He'd been waiting for the shoe to drop. Six months since the pirate
attack. He'd been expecting something to break. In fact he'd been sure it would
of broken before now. Apparently everyone had been too busy to get into
mischief.

"Solar
flare. Class M possibly Class X. Tracking indicates it's going to hit the
Port-Au-Prince 2010 colony head on in two minutes. We've already lost
communications," Sprite responded.

"Bad?"

"Very.
Most likely it will fry her remaining satellites in orbit. They said they are
trying to get their work crews under cover but communications was already
spotty. Admiral there are over nine thousand people there. Most are in surface
domes with minimum radiation shielding."

The
Admiral frowned. "Do we have anyone in the area?" he asked after a
moment of thought. Sprite pulled up a system map.

"Firefly
is on an asteroid run on the other side of the primary. Maya and Sun-Yat are
doing an exercise here." She pointed the spot out. "Warthog is out of
it. Fuentes is on a drive test right now. She's lost a governor so they're
limping back to port as we speak."

The
Admiral grunted. "And I see Hephaestus and the sub light freighters are
not in range," he nodded. "Cancel the exercise. Get Maya and Sun-Yat
to the colony as soon as possible to render aide. Mission parameters are search
and rescue and to render aide until relieved. Get me... let's see, Destiny?
She's our best freighter?"

Sprite
nodded. He ran a finger over the list. "Get me her captain. I want as many
relief supplies as we can get to her on the move in the next fifteen minutes.
Focus on medical, radiation, food, and life support. Toss in a portable
replicator and as many portable power packs, emergency shelters, and micro
fusion reactors as we've got." The AI nodded again. A text file scrolled
beside her. Inventory items were highlighted and then moved to another file.

“Tachyon
pulses sent. Maya hasn't acknowledged receipt. Sun-Yat has and is underway.”

“Ping
Maya again. If they don't respond have Sun-Yat relay.”

“Understood
Admiral. Now I know why you wanted a tachyon pulse generator here.”

“This
is one reason,” he nodded. It was hopefully going to be worth the time and
expense of building it into the growing shipyard. It had taken them a week to
build the thing. Firefly was the only other ship to have one. The other ships
only had receivers, they were too small for a full transceiver set. Trying to
coordinate through Firefly at this range was impossible.

“We
have a triple neutrino flux from Maya's approximate position.”

“Best
they can do. You can't shoe horn a tachyon pulse generator into something the
size of a corvette you know,” he said shaking his head. He tried to think of
something else to send.

"Admiral,
Doctor Thorby is already requesting transport for a team. The Port-Au-Prince's
colony's representatives are on station, they are clamoring for support."

The
Admiral nodded. "Tell them I'll be on my way, and that we are already
coordinating a relief effort." He got up and straightened his hem.