Destiny's Choice (The Wandering Engineer) (8 page)

According
to Sprite's report the lead navigator had a confidence problem as he was still
feeling out the ship's systems. From his look and manner he needed seasoning.
Exposure to Bailey would either have him stiffening up or ducking for cover.
Irons wasn't sure which way the lad would go, right now his money was right at
the border, fifty fifty odds.

Okay,
so maybe having the chimp at his back wasn't such a good idea, Irons thought as
the purser sputtered. “But he... he...”

“He
what? Saved the ship? Replaced the replicators? Your stores? You're one
ungrateful son of a bitch you know that? What do you want? Him to gold plate
your head?” Bailey demanded, spreading his hands and then pointing to the
narrow door leading to the wash room.

“That's
enough Chief,” the captain said calmly, coming in behind him. “Sorry I'm late.”
He nodded as the officers stood at attention. “Ah Admiral, chief, so good of
you to make it. We don't see you often enough at dinner.”

“Which
is sad, making them come is probably the only way you can get either one to eat
a proper diet at a decent time,” Sprite said from the overhead speaker.

The
captain and guests looked up to the speaker and then at the Admiral. He
shrugged. “Ah yes, our gallant heroine. Thank you for your generous efforts on
our behalf,” the captain said one hand over his heart. He bowed to the nearest
speaker.

“I'm
pretty attached to my own electronic hide as the Admiral puts it. And his for
that matter. Our lives were on the line as well captain. But like the Admiral
said, it does feel good to right a wrong.”

“When
did he say that?” the captain asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“Just
after he found out you had been cheated on the replicators and the stores,”
Sprite said, telling a little white lie. “I'm afraid he's always the white knight.
Which is what got him in trouble on Vesta.”

The
replicators weren't the only thing left out in the stores. They had found that
the boxes with Holographic projectors and LCD screens meant for the passengers
and crew had been empty. Irons wasn't sure how they could have missed that.
Entire crates of nothing but packaging. It left him with nothing to replicate
the missing equipment with too. That sucked.

Part
of keeping a crew happy and content on such a long voyage was in entertainment
and education. Keeping them occupied helped, even if it was watching a vid in
their quarters. The lack of vids was a problem. One that would probably force
people to occupy areas that did have the entertainment screens. And inevitably
bored people or those who wanted to watch different things would fight over
them.

The
purser was lucky to be hanging on to his job, Irons thought. He would have
canned the stupid prick when all the missing equipment had been discovered.
Hell, come to think of it Bailey was lucky to hang on to his job.

He
looked at the simian chief. Bailey was dressed in a formal uniform, surprising
to some apparently. It was gray with green shoulder boards and trimmed in red.
A gold wrench was pinned to his right lapel. Apparently that was some sort of
signatory of his civilian rank. He had two hash marks on each sleeve like most
of the other officers. The captain had four.

“Yes,
yes. We heard,” the purser said as the crew took their seats. “So you say.”

“So
my video shows. Audio as well. I was there after all Mister. You think I'd go
along with abnormal behavior? I assure you, as an officer of the Federation
Navy, I and the Admiral take our oaths very seriously,” she said sniping back.
Irons winced. Maybe it was a good thing that the holo projectors were missing? That
way Sprite wasn't present physically as well.

“Which
is why you got in trouble in the first place,” the captain said nodding. “I
know. You were set up. Railroaded I believe is the term. I'm sorry. And I'm
sorry my ship had a hand in it.” He turned to Irons letting some sincerity show
in his expression. Irons nodded.

“More
than you know,” a delegate muttered, looking down. Only Irons and those closest
to the delegate heard it. The delegation from Pyrax was led by a Miss Mayfair,
a shrewish woman who apparently peddled her influence to someone on the
council. She and a few of the other delegates weren't happy about Irons
presence aboard ship. That pretty much told him that who ever was their backer
was also someone behind his exile. He was curious about who. He was pretty sure
Sprite wanted to find out.

Mayfair
was definitely a piece of work. She had a long dour face. No one in their right
mind would ever call her pretty or beautiful. Mousy brown hair, cut short and
curled close to her scalp. She had a mottled olive complexion that didn't
compliment her in the slightest.

She
was wearing a gown, white with faux pearls. Most likely they were plastic. The
chrome chain around her right wrist with some sort of dangling time piece was
an interesting item. She didn't look at all happy to be there. He could
understand.

Being
torn like that must be hard on some, the Admiral thought. On the one hand your
boss sends you out to do a mission, then you find out he tried to kill you. To
stab you in the back and you owe your life to the guy your boss hated. To hang
onto that prejudice even after everything that had happened....

It
was strange, they had been stabbed in the back and yet they still clung to
their loyalties to the very people who had tried to murder them. And the same
went for the assassin, he couldn't understand why someone would do something
like that after finding out about the virus. Some misplaced loyalties defied
logic apparently.

But
then again people were fallible. No doubt Miss Mayfair had convinced herself
that Irons had made the entire emergency up? But how did she explain the
missing equipment?

“Something
to say Miss Mayfair?” the captain asked politely, eyes narrowed.

Mayfair
squirmed under the gaze a little, fighting the urge to glare. Instead she looked
down and away for a moment. “Ah no,” she said looking up. Her hand crumpled the
napkin she was holding. “No, not at all captain. Welcome, welcome. It is so
nice to have a visitor from our past. And a celebrity at that,” she smiled a
false smile that fooled no one.

Irons
snorted mentally. She obviously had no experience in diplomacy and high stakes
politics. She didn't put a lot of effort into herself or into that smile. That
spoke volumes to him about her chances of achieving anything worthwhile.

“Oh
this is going to be so much fun. Joy,” Bailey muttered.

So
why'd you come?” Irons asked, leaning over to the simian.

Brown
eyes met his briefly before the simian's large nostrils dilated. “You needed
the back up. Besides, seeing their choked faces was worth all the annoyance of
the pomp and circumstance crap of a formal dinner. I'm hoping one of them has a
nice coronary by the time we reach dessert.”

“Gee
thanks,” Irons said. “Least I'm the source of someone's entertainment.”

“Every
day Admiral. Every day,” the simian said, smiling slightly and slapping him on
the shoulder. “Come on, let's eat.”

“Well,
that was fun,” Bailey said picking up his beer stein as he watched the bulk of
the Pyraxian delegation leave. “I gotta hand it to you Admiral, you do make things
lively. Not to mention clear a room.” He saluted the Admiral with the stein.

Irons
snorted. Mayfair and her people had cleared the decks as quickly as they could
without making too much of a scene. Mayfair's backward glare at him hadn't been
missed though. “Something like that,” Irons said shaking his head at the
chief's perfidy. “I'm curious why though.” He rubbed his chin, looking
thoughtful.

“Patronage,”
the captain said tracing a finger on a linen napkin. He looked up as they
looked to him. “Seriously. Most of them were nominated for this by the ruling
council. Some by members of that committee who no doubt screwed you. And damn
near screwed us.”

A
blond head down the row looked up and then grimaced. She nodded though. “He's
right,” She shook her head.

“Miss
Willis? I didn't see you there,” Bailey said leaning forward to get a look.
“I'm surprised that you didn't turn tail with your fellows and high tail it out
of here first chance you got.”

Irons
was surprised by the dancing blue green eyes and white smile. The woman was a
looker, obviously used to using her body as much as her brains to get her way.
She had plenty of cleavage and an hourglass figure. He was pretty sure she
could get her way with that smile alone. He reminded him of someone... a woman
from Terra's ancient past. Marilyn something or other. The last name started
with another M. She had poise and grace, he wondered if there was a mind to go
along with that body? 

She
took his look in and her saucy eyelids lowered slightly. Her full red lips
smiled ever so slightly wider. She knew he was checking her out and she didn't
seem to mind. She actually seemed to preen. Interesting, he thought. “And why
would I do that?” she asked amused. “To avoid being contaminated by the
Admiral?”

Bailey's
brown eyes flashed at that. He opened his mouth to reply but she smiled
disarmingly again and held up a restraining hand. “No, I know he's innocent.
And frankly, what the council does isn't my problem right now. We've got enough
on our plate here and now. It'll be what, a year before we're back to Pyrax?”
she asked turning to the navigator.

“Something
like that,” he mumbled. “I wish we had Deja, but he refused to come.”

“Friend
of yours?” Irons asked. He wasn't keen about a hyper navigator who was unsure
of himself. It was better than one who was overconfident and liked to take
risks, but it had it's own draw backs as well.

“Former
navigator. He's a selkie,” Bailey answered looking at the tall gangly
navigator.

“You
know him?” Miss Willis asked.

Bailey
snorted. “Course I do. He's a damn good navigator. No offense Clarke.” He
nodded to the navigator who nodded back. “But selkies have a leg up on the
competition.”

“So
why didn't he stay?” the delegate asked confused.

“He
was a slave, like most of the rest of us. He may have liked swimming the god
sea as he called it, but being tortured didn't help his outlook on being a
spacer,” Clarke replied with a grimace. “He could shave weeks off a transit
time. But he gave it up when we were freed.”

“Did
he now?” Willis asked, stirring her drink. “I find that surprising. What career
path could he find in Pyrax I wonder?”

“As
a marine actually,” Bailey said shooting a glance to the Admiral. Irons looked
surprised.

“Accessing.
There is a recruit by that name in the roster Admiral,” Sprite said over his
link.

“Apparently
he did. Sprite just confirmed it,” Irons replied with a shrug. “He signed on as
enlisted. I'm not sure why.”

“Surprising.
He wants to be a grunt?” the purser asked. “How droll.”

“Takes
all kinds. For instance it takes pissants to make pursers,” Bailey responded. A
few sputtered in their drinks at that.

Irons
hid a grin as the purser glared at the chimp. If looks could kill they'd need a
new chief engineer. And a new chair since the one he was in would have been kindling.
Fortunately the glare bounced right off the insolent look of the engineer.

The
purser was bigger than the chief but not by much. And no one messed with a
simian if they could help it. They had ten times the strength of a normal
unaugmented or unmodified human. If the simian had augmentation or mods as
well... they could easily turn just about any Terran into a pretzel sculpture.

Irons
rolled his shoulders. A few made really good guards, soldiers, or marines. He
had really liked a gorilla masseuse back in his junior officer days. She had a
way of working out the knots and kinks in the body.

After
a moment of indecision the purser turned his attention to Irons. He shook his
head. “Your influence Admiral. Otherwise we wouldn't have to bear with uncivilized
behavior,” he sniffed. Irons hid a grimace. Typical. Shift the blame to him
since his tormentor was too scary to hit back at.

“Maybe
so, I for one am glad he's here. I wasn't looking forward to dipping into the
e-rats and maybe going to half rations before we even got to Agnosta,” Bailey
said shaking his head. The steward shot him a look and then nodded reluctantly.

“You're
kidding!” Willis said in dismay, wide eyed.

“No.
Oh we've got fresh food for the first couple of weeks, but that's supposed to
be used sparingly. We didn't take on the food we normally would have because we
thought that the replicators would take up the slack. We're supposed to recycle
as much food as possible.”

“Of
course,” she nodded. “All ships and space colonies do.”

“Destiny
has small green house compartments, and everyone is encouraged to grow food
plants in their rooms or other compartments. But that doesn't make up for the
difference. Not by a long shot,” Irons said.

“Well
it's kind of hard to do when we don't have a greenhouse or food replicators. Or
didn't until the Admiral here intervened,” Bailey said motioning to the
Admiral. Which was true, Irons reflected. They didn't have the greenhouses
online yet. He wondered if the seeds were even there? Or the equipment? He'd
have to pass it on to the chief to check.