Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer) (26 page)

Outside, he walked the streets, certain that Ole Blue wasn't
around. He couldn't see the distinctive Veraxin's sensor signature anywhere for
at least a kilometer. That was a good sign. He intended to move on soon enough
though. He turned though at a throaty roar of an engine.

Hastily people got out of the street as an apparent familiar
rumble and dust cloud approached. Irons followed. He stood by as a biker gang
on enormous motorcycles and other machines pulled up to a rundown bar near the
end of the strip.  “That's not a mask is it?” the admiral asked, clearly taken
aback himself for once.

“Bio-signs confirm they are who they look like Admiral,” Sprite replied.
The admiral grunted. Running into a gene engineered Neo elephant biker gang on
a colony world wasn't something he'd
ever
expected. He was shocked, he
hadn't known any existed. The leader was crusty old bull, wearing black leather
pants and a tattered vest. “What are you looking at?” the bull growled, looking
over to the admiral.

The admiral held up his hands to show he meant no threat. “Sorry,
I don't often see your kind.”

“So?” the old Neo asked. The old bull was at least a century old,
gray and withered with age but still spry enough to ride the bike and keep up
with the young crowd. A few looked related to him.

“No, I meant Neo elephants. I didn't know any lived past the first
wave back in the twenty one hundred's.” Irons replied.

“That so?” one asked, signaling amusement. He was a mastodon with
four broken tusks. Another was a mammoth, covered in shaggy brown fur with a
broad head shaved into BA Barackus mohawk. “You hear this slike? We're
extinct.”

“Where you from man?” the leader asked gruffly, putting his gear
away.

“Off world,” the admiral replied crossing his arms. “I'm a
sleeper.”

“That a fact,” one younger elephant said pounding a meaty hand
into another. “Let's stomp him.”

“Not worth the effort,” the leader said, racking his gear. The
others turned to him. He nodded subtly to the nervous deputy nearby.

“Him?” the younger bull asked, snorting. The snort was an
explosive sound, like a pump or air burst. He had a split trunk and human eyes.
Irons realized they were descendants of humans and others who gene engineered
themselves into elephants for some strange reason. The young bull had dripping
glands on his head. Sprite highlighted them and put a caption on his HUD, musk,
in heat. His jaw set. Great, a hormonal elephant, not what he needed to encounter.
He really was trying to be good and stay out of trouble.

“Want to arm wrestle little man?” the young bull asked, poking
Irons with a trunk, making a show of how big and strong he was in comparison to
the puny human.

“Sure. If you think you're strong enough. I doubt it,” the admiral
replied. The others raised their trunks and hooted and snorted.

“Little shit thinks he's something else!” a female said. “He's got
a set on him,” she admired taking a long look at Irons. The admiral realized
her admiration was making the bulls who were in musk angry. She wasn't helping
him he realized, quite the contrary.

“Ah let him go,” the old bull said just as the young one ducked
his head and charged Irons. The admiral dropped into a horse stance, ducked and
caught the charge, grabbing a tusk. Before the bull could toss him his enhanced
strength kicked in, pulling the Neo's head down and over his right arm which
acted as a fulcrum. He continued the motion, using his right arm and shoulder
to pick the bull up off his feet and tossing him over his head. The bull seemed
to float through the air as the admiral released his tusk, hitting at least
five meters up at the top of his arch before he landed flat on his back ten
meters behind the human.

Suddenly the area was still. The gang stared at their fallen
friend and then at Irons. Irons didn't smile, didn't blink, he just had a cold
look on his face. The young bull he had tossed groaned in the dust cloud,
barely moving.

“I told you, I'm a sleeper,” Irons replied sternly, eyes locking
on another bull reaching slowly for a pulser. It was a pulse rifle cut down and
rebuilt as a pistol for the elephant. “I'm a naval officer and if you pull that
weapon I'll wrap that bike around your throat and squeeze,” he growled, voice
dropping into an icy rumble of warning.

He could hear subsonic rumbling. It took a moment for Sprite to
recognize a pattern and put the conversation on his HUD. Irons snorted softly.
They could talk through subsonics, feeling the sounds with their bare feet. The
low rumblings that were in the normal range sounded like animals but it was far
from it he realized. From the sound of it the leader was trying to calm things
down.

“It's rude to talk about me like I can't hear you,” he rumbled,
using his own subsonics to reply. The female's eyes went wide. He turned to the
leader. “I like your bike,” he said, nodding politely.

“Thanks. Heirloom,” the biker replied, stroking his white goatee
as he studied the strange human. Irons nodded. He could tell, it was well cared
for too. Big fat meter wide slightly bald tires, chrome that was pitted and
blued with age but cleaned regularly, the massive engine looked in good
condition. This being loved his equipment and was smart to take care of it.

“Thought so. If you need parts for it or the others let me know.
Maybe we can work a trade. I'll be around for a while,” he said. He turned and
left as the bull he had tossed rolled and got drunkenly to his feet.

“Where is he?” the bull said with a lipse. He grabbed his mouth
and groaned, blood dribbled from his broken tusk. “Shit!”

“Serves you right Pasha, now quit foolin around and lets go,” the
leader rumbled. His bike roared to life once more.

Irons got to the corner and paused, watching the crew tear out and
up the street. He snorted softly and nodded to a passerby. The woman in a
yellow dress and bonnet stared at him and then blushed scarlet when she
realized he was returning her gaze. She turned shyly and left fluttering a fan.
The admiral turned away. It seemed the bull elephants weren't the only ones
pawing at the ground to impress the females, he thought with a pang.

“She's looking back at you,” Sprite informed him, sounding amused.
“Did you do that for her benefit?” she asked.

“No, just happened,” Irons sighed. “I did like that bike though,
primitive but it gets the job done,” he said.

“Sure you did.”

“Okay, I admit I don't like someone using their size to bully and
intimidate others,” he said with a shrug. “But really, it was a case of
curiosity,” he said as he noted Defender spinning his shields down to standby.

“Sure it was,” Sprite replied with an amused snort. He shrugged
helplessly and then went about his business. “I suggest you head to Rubicon
next admiral...”

“Sure,” he replied with a shrug.

Landing day arrived, bright and clear. He was amused by the
hoopla. The traffic on the ground was terrible. All the industry was off, only
restaurants and places to buy food or drinks were open. In order to keep his
tail off track he changed plans and went back to Hazard. Rubicon had been
nothing but a town of warehouses and smoke filled bars, not where he wanted to
hang out at. He even considered hopping his shuttle for a brief orbital hop to
another space port.

Since he had prepaid his room for a week he quietly informed the owners
he was going to return to it. They were a bit put out, but when he offered to
find other quarters once they refunded him his money they quickly found a
similar room near his old one.

The noise outside sounded too regular for general party goers. It sounded
familiar. He put down the tablet he had been reading and went out to see. “A
parade,” he said with a snort.

“Everyone loves a parade,” Sprite quoted.

He watched the parade from his hotel balcony. “A bit like Mardi
Gras actually,” Sprite observed. She started to play a clip on his HUD but he
waved it aside. “I'm surprised they're having it at dawn though,” Sprite said.
“You'd think they'd do it later in the day.”

“Smart of them. By noon it will be quite hot out. You don't want
people dropping of sunstroke and heat exhaustion,” he replied. Now that the low
had passed the evenings were getting hot and sticky with humidity.

“True.”

When the parade was over he went to breakfast, amused by how busy
the dining areas were and by all the decorations hanging everywhere. He ordered
a simple breakfast with coffee and a paper, the EDP of course. He'd found that
the Herald and Bugle didn't have the balanced coverage as the EDP did. He read
the paper and drank his coffee as he waited on his order. A patron suggested he
move on so he stopped.

“I'm waiting on my breakfast,” the admiral commented, studying the
gentleman behind him through his sensors before he shook his paper and
continued reading. The surly patron left with an irritable grunt.

Irons found the article series by the reporter Jerry Richards. He
was amused to see a bit of a sneak peek of the future series, more on the
history of the old Federation. There was also. "An interview with a
sleeper." He snorted.

When he was finished with the paper he folded it and set it on his
table. Someone nearby immediately took it. He turned in annoyance.

“Oh sorry, did you want it back?” the woman asked, smiling and
holding it out.

“Well, since I paid for it yes. Taking it without asking is just
rude.”

“Sorry,” the woman said. She handed it back and then turned away.
He shook his head. Luckily the waitress arrived with his order so he didn't
respond further. He did make a show of reading it once more before he left it
on the table when he left.

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

Irons caught sight of pick pockets and thieves in the crowd as he
made his way through the crowd to the street. He pointed it out to a nearby
deputy who sighed. “We're on crowd control.” The man was in his finest uniform,
silver buttons shiny. He was wearing the British style constable outfit,
something Irons hadn't expected. It was odd that their sheriff preferred
western wear yet the deputies were dressed in British outfits. Was there
something going on there? Did Coltrain want to stand out from his men? He was a
bit of a peacock with the braid on his broad shoulder boards and black Stetson
hat.

“I've got it on video. I can upload it to your department,” the
admiral said as the constable looked away.

“Um... thanks,” the constable said, looking back at him.

“Good luck,” Irons said nodding. The man nodded back and then
turned back to the crowd.

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

“Are you concerned about crime?” Sprite asked him as he nodded to
another deputy with Strate on his name tag. He was thin, constantly hitching up
his gun belt and trousers and rocking back and forth nervously. He had a goofy
smile on his face but at least he was polite.

“No, just noticing it,” the admiral said quietly, nodding to the
deputy and then moving on.

“Well, if you're bothered by it, you could go to one of the major
cities. From the data I've gathered Gotham has quite the celebration but an
even higher crime rate.”

“Gotham?” the admiral asked, wrinkling his nose.

“Yes, its' police force is run by a commissioner Gordon. They had
a serious crime problem up until a vigilante with high tech gear showed up and
started taking down the local mobsters. Most headed to the hills or were put in
jail.”

“Huh.”

“Did you know Hazard and Gotham are popular names for colony
places? There are several of each in this sector alone. As well as Landing. You
organics can be so unoriginal sometimes.”

He smiled slightly, not rising to the jab. “Anything else?”

“Not really. There is a major interest in technology, a
renaissance if you will in both Gotham and in Metropolis, the other major city
on the planet. One of the other reasons the material you requested is late.”

“Really,” he said and then shrugged. “Somehow I think we'll
endure. I'll pass on both thank you.”

“I'm surprised. I thought you'd be interested in rubbing elbows
with the Carnegie's and Rockefellers’ there. They're really getting into
industry in those locations.”

“Pass. Keep an eye out for a Henry Ford character if you can find
one. An Edison... no, JP Morgan... oof. I dunno, on the one hand yeah, but on
the other considering the ruthlessness and complete lack of honor...”

Sprite sighed on his HUD. “That is reaching right now admiral.
Maybe in a few years...”

“Nurture. It all comes down to nurture. So, place to eat?”

“I would suggest a picnic Admiral, all the restaurants are booked
solid right now.”

“Right,” he said, nodding as he passed a line of people waiting
patiently to get into a restaurant.

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

The picnic went over well. Irons was amused, it had been decades
since he'd been on a genuine picnic. He'd even rented a basket from a harried
vendor. Not since... his thoughts shied painfully away from that. Defender
silently pointed someone out.