Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer) (20 page)

“You can tell what is wrong from there?” the woman asked, holding
her hand. “I thought my hand was just weak,” she held it out. It trembled.

Irons judged her around thirty standard years old. “How did you do
it? If you don't mind my asking,” he said, turning in his chair to face them
better.

“I did it scrubbing the floor,” the woman admitted.

“Understandable. I can see the break, it's a hairline fracture of
the ulna. Painful, but it can be easily treated by splinting the arm for a six
week period.”

“I dare say, are you a doctor?” the woman in red asked.

“No, I'm an engineer. But I've got implants,” the admiral said.
“May I?” he asked, reaching out with both hands. The woman in yellow flinched
and then held out her wounded arm. Gently he cupped it with his left hand
underneath while his right hovered over the arm. “No swelling?”

“It was swollen Monday,” the woman murmured.

“I see,” Irons replied. He sent a signal to Sprite. A volumetric
hologram of the woman's arm appeared over his own arm. It was in perfect
parallel to the woman's hand. She flinched and the hologram moved as well.

“Oh my!” the woman in red said, eyes wide. “I...”

“I'm a sleeper,” Irons replied. Conversation around them died as
people turned to see the phenomenon in their midst. Holograms weren't quite as
magical to these folk as to say someone on a true rural planet, but it was
still amazing for them to see. Something they treasured if only to tell their
friends about it or their children and grandchildren. Sprite snorted. He'd be
the talk of the town shortly.

Irons however didn't have any interest in that, or at least didn't
appear to. He zoomed into the break, framing it with a red karat box and then
highlighting the fracture. “Yes, definitely a hairline fracture. You need more
calcium in your diet young lady, more vitamin D and calcium. Do you want me to
repair it? I can but I'm not a legal doctor here,” he said, turning to the
woman.

“You can? It hurts. Please...” the woman whispered and then licked
her lips.

“Sure.” Irons bent the fingers of his right hand down to touch the
back of the woman's hand. Nanites flowed through that contact point to the
break. In seconds it was healed. Proteus fed naproxen to the pain nerves until
they subsided. After another moment to check for more breaks Proteus withdrew
the nanites.

“Okay, the break has been fused. Your body would have done it on
its own in a week or so, motion however was aggravating it and keeping it from
healing.”

“It still hurts,” she said rubbing her arm with her free hand.

“It will for a short time,” the admiral replied as he withdrew his
hands. “When your body realizes the damage has been repaired it will stop
complaining. I do suggest you take it easy for some time however, a day or so.”

“I've been favoring it as it is,” the woman said, cradling it
against her bosom once more. “Though I thank you,” she murmured. “My husband
would not've been pleased by a doctor's bill.”

“I'll bet,” Irons replied with a shrug. He started to turn back.

“Are you alone?” the woman asked. He shrugged.

The Admiral nodded, “in a manner of speaking.”

“Then dine with us. It is the least we can do for your services
good sir,” she said and smiled. He noted the yellow teeth but smiled politely
in return.

“Sure,” he replied, getting up and moving his things to take a
seat with them. “My name is John by the way.”

“My name is Henrietta, this is Melissa,” the woman in yellow said,
nodding to her partner. Her partner nodded to him politely.

“Perhaps an independent look could help us,” the woman sighed.
“You see, my Francesca is dating a horrid man.”

“Oh?” the admiral asked. “Francesca is your daughter?” he asked.
She nodded.

“The man is involved in the mob,” the woman in red said.

“Only as an accountant. Though he's seen as a tough,” Henrietta
said.

“True,” Melissa agreed.

 “So, let me guess, the young woman is in love, and will not hear
of you banning this fellow. She's, a teen?” he asked. “Teenager?” the woman
sighed and rolled her eyes before nodding. “And he's a few years older? More
dashing to her?” she nodded again.

“The sense of danger and of doing something naughty, something you
disapprove of is part of what is driving this relationship,” the admiral
replied thoughtfully.

“Are you a counselor now too?” Melissa asked, chuckling as she
picked up her tea cup.

“No, parent. My ex-wife and I ran into this many years ago with
our own daughter. And it's been a sad old tale for thousands of years. Romeo
and Juliet.”

“I do not recall them,” Henrietta said in confusion. She looked
around them.

“It is a story from Earth's distant past. Two young lovers of
rival houses. Their families hated each other. But they fell in love. It is a
romance story told by William Shakespeare. The two would sneak out to meet each
other for trysts. When they were caught one tried to fake her death in order to
make her parents remorseful, and so she could run away with her lover. But her
lover found her body and thought she was truly dead so he committed suicide.
When she woke she found him dead so she too poisoned herself.”

“Oh dear,” Melissa said in a concerned voice, looking at Henrietta
in concern. “Not a very good lesson,” she murmured, patting the woman on her
left arm.

“No, it does showcase young love, unrequited love, and the foolishness
of youth,” Irons replied.

“You could say that again admiral,” Sprite replied for his ears
alone. “And you do know you got your story facts mixed up right?” she asked,
sounding like she was laughing at him again.

He waved his fingers to wave the thought off. “The young can be
impulsive, their hormones drive them to do things that we who have been through
it see as impulsive and foolish. They chafe under that sight, for they think
that theirs is a unique experience. In some ways they're right,” he said. “But
in general,” he smiled again. “We all know from our own experiences and can
draw from them.”

“And they don't want to see it, don't want to listen.”

“Right. At that age only experience will help. No matter what you
say or do they will continue stubbornly on the path they choose for themselves.
It's a part of growing up. Being a parent is highly tested here, you have to
try to guard them from their foolishness, yet let them stumble and even fall so
they may learn on their own that you speak wisdom.”

“I so do not want her to be hurt,” Henrietta said, biting her lip.

“Hurt is a relative thing. She may be hurt emotionally, most
likely so. That hurt will fade and even disappear when the next boy comes
around. But hopefully she will not be hurt physically,” Irons replied. Melissa
nodded.

“So what am I to do?” the woman asked, hands up in despair.

“Well... my wife hit upon a bit of reverse psychology that worked
for us.”

“Oh?” Henrietta's eyes shined as she looked at him. “Do tell
please?”

“Well,” Irons smiled and then turned as a waitress approached with
a cart of food. She stared at them. He shrugged. “We're dining together,” he
murmured. The woman bobbed a curtsy and laid out the food.

They ate for a few minutes before the admiral took a break for a
sip of coffee. “My wife had a psychology degree. She realized that no matter
what we did, what we said, our daughter would do what she wanted. She was a
willful minx just like her mother,” he said wryly.

Melissa snorted and nudged her companion. Henrietta colored slightly.

“So, she invited the lad to dinner. He was reluctant but our
daughter liked the idea. It spiked their guns rather neatly, drawing all their
sneaking around out into the open. A little mean I guess you could say,
everyone loves a secret tryst, but it cooled things down a bit.”

“Interesting. I would think it would have heated them up with your
approval.”

“You'd think that, but half the excitement is in doing something
you know you aren't supposed to do. The sneaking around can be fun and
exhilarating, getting the heart pumping. Thrilling, the threat of being caught.
Bringing it all out into the open took the fun out of that part.”

“Ah,” Melissa said thoughtfully.

“My wife also dropped hints about how long their relationship was
going to last, if they were planning a commitment, family...” he smiled evilly.

Melissa caught on. “And of course the boy being a boy just wanted
a roll in the hay,” Melissa said wisely. Irons nodded.

“It is ever the way with men,” Melissa sighed.

“Which is what I am afraid of,” Henrietta replied, dabbing at her
mouth with a cloth napkin.

“True. But when some of what her mother's little missives started
to penetrate they backed off. Each had plans for the future and they hadn't
planned on getting tied down and having those plans potentially ruined. She was
ever supportive, even urging them to get together,” he chuckled suddenly. “The
look on their faces when she oh so ever wistfully said that she'd love to have
a grandchild so soon...”

Melissa's eyes danced as she chuckled. “And I take it that was
like a bucket of cold water on them both?”

“On him at least. Having a kid when you are seventeen is a bit
much. As was having to support the child for another sixteen years. Of course
our daughter was on contraceptives so that wasn't a problem, but being tied
down sort of cooled his ardore off a bit.”

“Ah.”

“So, that's what I suggest, give them something to think about. If
she genuinely cares for him she'll cling to him. I've known some women who
deliberately trapped a man into marriage by getting pregnant. That thought
might cool him off. No one wants a shotgun wedding,” Irons said.

“True,”  Henrietta said.

They finished breakfast in companionable silence, only once or
twice talking of how nice the weather was. Now that he was accepted by the
woman others nearby talked a bit with him. Many had heard the topic of
conversation and those that were parents were sympathetic. Some were amused by
his suggestions.

“So you think that will be all?” Melissa finally asked, coming
back to the conversation about the two lovers.

Irons shrugged. “Drop enough soft hints about working a regular
job to support a family... Get them to think about that... yes. Acceptance will
get the sneaking around to stop, so the excitement will end. You'll be able to
monitor some of it as long as you are discreet. Get your daughter thinking
about the dangers of getting pregnant and practicing safe sex. Don't be
judgmental, it'll be counterproductive. Make sure you keep an open door so your
daughter can come and talk to you if she needs to do so.” Henrietta nodded.
“Getting them thinking about the future might make them cool off. At the very
least it will make them think about possible unwanted pregnancies.”

Melissa rolled her eyes. “That's all we need!”

“Right. I don't think you're eager for a grandchild
this
soon,” another woman nearby said with a nod. “Thanks mister,” she said, turning
to the admiral with an invitation for an introduction.

The admiral bowed slightly. “Irons. John Irons. Don't mention it.”

“Hey, you related to that Admiral guy?” the woman's husband asked,
folding his newspaper and tucking it under his arm.

“I'm Fleet admiral Irons,” Irons replied absently as he and his
breakfast companions got up. ”The he in question is me,” he said with a bit of
whimsy. The guy's eyes went wide. Others murmured and slinked away, suddenly
giving him sidelong looks. “Something I said?” he asked, turning to a now pale
Henrietta. She and Melissa were backing away as if he was radioactive.
Internally he sighed.

Sprite and Defender picked up the murmurs and filtered them out
into coherent bits of conversation. “It's him.” “Don't stand too close,
someone's liable to pop him right here! We might be in the cross fire!”

“Poor sod! He's got a contract out on his hide... he's not long
for this world...” The AI dutifully informed Irons.

The admiral looked around the crowd, eyes narrowing. None said
anything. Slowly he shrugged. “Don't worry about me folks, no one can harm me,”
he said gruffly. The murmuring stopped.

“Yeah, well, tell that to Ole Blue. He said he's taking your
case,” a guy in the back said and then left.

“That's right, no one's going to interfere. If they did Ole Blue
would kill them too. I'm sorry but you're not long for this world and no one
wants to go with you,” another guy said as the crowd dispersed.

“Lovely,” Sprite sighed.

...*...*...*...*...

Preparation for the Landing Thanksgiving Day was underway in
Capital City, also known as Landing. Bunting was going up here as it was in
Hazard and apparently all over. But here things were more vibrant, there were
more gay decorations, more pageantry. The Admiral and Sprite were amused that
the people had held onto the tradition and that it was still being observed.
“The colonists had lost the reason why the date was called that,” Sprite
informed him.