Destiny's Choice (The Wandering Engineer) (16 page)

The
head had no neck, it was broad and stuck up from the shoulders over a meter
tall. Clearly Bryan needed to rethink his gurney's if he was going to have more
Gashg in sickbay.

“Oookay.”
Bryan said smiling carefully. “Whatever works come mating season to get the
gals,” he snorted. Irons shook his head. Gashg mating rituals were bloody
affairs. Which was no surprise since they had massive clawed hands and feet.
He'd seen one once in his youth, it had been a definite test of his stomach
control. Not all the splashing fluids had been water from their mating pool.

Irons
sniffed the air. There was a fresh copper smell in the air. Copper and iron.
“Doc, ah, I smell blood.”

“You
should. Right here,” Bryan indicated the patient in front of him.

“No.
Coonie blood,” Irons replied looking around. He narrowed it down to the
paramedic's office.

Bryan
looked up. “I'm not a doctor. I'm a paramedic. There's a difference,” Bryan
said finishing up and washing his hands. He paused suddenly as his mind caught
up with what the Admiral had said. “What do you mean, coonie... wait,” He
looked around suddenly worried. Cooter chittered at him then went after the
Admiral to the office. “Where's Nara? She's usually over... crap.” His face
twisted in pain.

He
went into the office as Irons stood, trying to keep a straight face.

“What?
Don't tell me she did it in my chair. Please oh please...”

“No.
Guess again,” Irons said as the chittering and chattering got louder.

“Oh
you little witch,” Bryan breathed, peeking under the desk. Sure enough black
beady eyes peeped out at him. She sniffed his way, twitching her whiskers and
ears in disdain at the intrusion and then went back to the more important
business of cleaning and caring for her squirming newborn kits.

“I
pick a bed out with you, get it just the way you want it...” he said softly,
kneeling down on the floor. “And this is how you thank me?” he asked amused and
dismayed.

“What
can I say Doc? Women are fickle.”

“Tell
me about it,” Bryan said dryly. He knew better than to disturb the mother right
now. He'd have to wait until later, try to entice her to go to the bed. He had
the thing made with health monitors and everything! He winced. He should have
taken the advice of his mother and built them into her collar. Damn.

He
shook his head then got up. “Great. Guess I'm going to have to get a new foot
rest. But not anytime soon,” he sighed moving out and shooing the Admiral and
Gashg away. “Nothing to see folks, she's still in the process. Two down, three
to go.” He winced as they heard scrabbling and chattering, then Cooter came out
fast running with his tail firmly between his legs. “And in her usual foul mood
when busy body males with nothing better to do stick their noses in.”

“I
do not have a nose. Do I count?” the Gashg asked amused.

“Any
male. And it's an expression. Which your messing with me about,” he sighed.
“It's been a long day,” He shook his head and looked at the desk. “And about to
get longer. Admiral, I asked for you because I was reading about a few tools I
don't have and I was wondering...”

Irons
came into the bay after breakfast the next morning and nodded to a few of the
people. A few turned their backs, noses in the air, but a few others nodded
politely in return. Bailey came up behind him and slapped him on the back. “See
what a little hard work does for you?” He kept going. Irons followed him to his
office.

“So
what's the plan for today?”

“Well,
scut work for the most part,” the chief said shaking his head. “I think we've
got a handle on that actually Admiral,” he grimaced. “That's not an insult just
a fact. I've got a lot of bodies and a dwindling supply of things to keep them
busy with.”

“Business
is that good?” Irons asked amused.

“Something
like that,” Bailey said taking a cup of coffee off his desk. He sniffed at it
then grimaced and dumped it into his waste bin. “Cold.”

“Sprite
reported the AI is functional and the software is rebuilt.” He shrugged.
Apparently after some consideration the captain had decided on a simple AI.
More of a voice interface and smart computer than a true AI. No personality,
just strong work ethics. If you could consider such a construct as having
ethics at all.

“And
the hardware is as good as we're going to get this side of a drydock. At least
while in hyper. Now that you've got our industrial replicator sorted out I had
it chugging out the parts we need to replace the stuff we should have had in
the first place.”

“And
you've had a full rebuild of your drives,” Irons said nodding. They had stopped
the industrial replicator work last shift. At least until Clarke brought them
up to Beta. Which seemed to be soon since scuttlebutt said the skipper had
asked about it twice yesterday. Clarke was running out of excuses.

“Well,
the reactor and the back up. Sublight drives yeah. Both are complete rebuilds.
Had to after the pieces Sun-yat tore out of her,” the chimp grimaced. He got up
and leaned out the door. “Coffee!” he called, more like bellowed. He turned.
“Want one?”

Irons
made a dismissing motion. The chimp shrugged. “Your loss. As I was saying.” He
went back and sat on the edge of the desk. “About the only thing I could use
you for is rebuilding the hyper drive. Which we can't do right now. Clarke's
still using it as an excuse not to go to Beta.”

“No
one rebuilds a hyper drive while it's in use chief,” Irons said knowing the
chief knew that was true. Sprite had pointed out a few flaws in the drive's
sensor logs. Obviously whoever had last overhauled it hadn't done it by the
book. That irked him a little.

“True.
I just don't know what to do with you right now,” Bailey admitted.

“So
I can go find someone else to bother?” Irons said smiling. He'd checked the
drive but he couldn't do a tear down while it was in use. They were at an
impasse as far as the navigator was concerned.

“In
a nutshell,” Bailey said grinning. “Though I'd like you on hand the moment the
drive spools down. Now that you're here I'd like a rebuild. As close as we can
get to factory specs if you can manage it. Or better if you can manage it. The
shit I heard about Io's got my mouth watering.”

Irons
laughed just as the steward pushed a tray in. “Coffee? And your morning danish
sir.”

“Thanks
Jed,” Bailey said with a polite nod. He nodded as he poured himself a cup. It
was his cup, the one with the chief and proud of it logo. He sniffed. “What'd
you do put almonds in it?”

“The
smell of almonds is a sign of cyanide!” Defender said, leaping to full alert
status. Irons reached out and knocked the cup from the chief's mouth. “Spit it
out fast.”

“What?”
The chief asked swallowing. “What the hell?”

“Poison.
Spit it out fast!” Irons said. He grabbed the stewards arm as the man tried to
back away. “Freeze Mister,” he snarled. “Sprite.”

“Contacting
medical. They are already on their way.”

“Medics
are on their way,” Irons echoed.

“Good
cause I suddenly don't feel so hot,” Bailey said sticking his tongue out. He
grabbed a rag and wiped at his tongue and mouth. “I got a teaspoon or
tablespoon or so in me.”

“What's
going on?” a voice said from the door. “I just got an emergency page. What are
you doing?” the heavy worlder guard asked, clearly confused.

“Take
this person into custody for questioning. The chief has been poisoned. Get the
captain and security chief on hand. Alert them.”

“To
what?” the guy asked, clearly not understanding.

“Who
called?” Bryan said shouldering his way through with his kit. “Make a hole
people.” He came in carrying an orange emergency bag. “What's the emergency?”

Irons
pointed to the chief engineer still behind his desk. “Poison. Cyanide or a
derivative. About a tea or tablespoon of diluted liquid swallowed,” Irons
reported.

“Oh.
Are you okay?” the paramedic asked, turning to Irons.

“Not
me, the chief. I am immune to poison,” he pointed to the chief again. Bryan turned
in the indicated direction. Bailey was looking a little queasy.

“Oh
crap,” the medic nodded, going over to the grimacing chimp.

“Doc
I don't feel so good,” Bailey groaned He was a little flushed..

“Relax.
That little isn't going to kill you right away. Lets get you to sickbay and
pump your stomach. Then we'll run a toxicology panel and I'll get something to
flush out anything.”

“Bag
the evidence,” Irons said getting up from the chair. “The cup he was drinking.
Get a sample for the medical computer.”

“Oh,”
the paramedic said nodding as he attached a monitor to the chimp. “Lets get a
stretcher in here. I'd rather not have you exert yourself any more than
necessary.”

Irons
grimaced as he thought of something. He stuck one finger into the cup.

“Isn't
that hot?”

“Yes.
Very,” Irons replied. He watched the data scroll across his HUD. “Definitely
cyanide. Enough to kill an elephant. I'm uploading the results to your in box.”

“Okay
people, lets move,” Bryan said, all business. He motioned for them to get out
of the way as SBA's came in with a hover stretcher.

“Is
he going to be all right?” a tech asked as they came out.

“I
don't know,” Irons said.

“What
happened?” another tech asked, coming up behind them. Irons recognized the kid
Everette, one of the better E-techs on this shift.

“Poison,”
he said. He nodded as the guard escorted the steward out in cuffs. “You'll know
more later. I suggest you get back to work. Does anyone know where the steward
got the food from?”

“Over
there,” Everette said waving as the security chief came in at a run. Everette
pointed to a cooks' cubby near the door. “He keeps a pot on hand for everyone
at all times. The chief's cup is usually hanging there or in his office.”

“Joy,”
Irons grimaced as he waved the security chief over to the cubby. The chief
patted the chimp on the arm as they passed him then came over.

“I
heard. Your AI briefed me in the elevator. What do you want?”

“Check
this area,” Irons reached out and stopped him from touching anything. “With a
scanner.”

“Oh.”

“Someone
poisoned the chief. If they dumped it here then the steward is a patsy.”

“Ah.
I see where you're going. There may be prints or DNA.”

“Or
video. Which there isn't. Somehow the camera's don't cover this part of the
room. Convenient if you ask me,” Sprite said from the overhead speaker.

“Ah.
That was what I was going to ask next,” Irons said looking up.

“Nary
a thing. If they were smart it was in a time released gel or some other agent.
Something that kept them far away from the scene when it went down.”

“Has
anyone else gotten sick?”

“We
wouldn't know. It takes time for it to kick in in some species,” Irons
grimaced. “We may need a full tox screen of everyone who's had coffee in the
past two days.”

“And
the security video buffer, can you pull anything off of people going in and out
of the dead zone?” he asked as a tech came over and handed the security chief a
scanner. Another guard came in with a forensics kit. Irons nodded, backing away
to give them room. He looked up to the bulkhead above.

“Doesn't
record that far back unfortunately. Less than a week. I had to overwrite it
when we had that little virus problem. I just restored it an hour ago
actually,” Sprite reported, sounding a little guilty.

“Great,”
Irons grimaced. “Do what you can with what you have.” He shook his head
watching the chief work.

“Don't
I always?” the AI asked.

“How
is he Doc?” Irons asked, looking up at the bulkhead two hours later. Sprite had
just connected them. Harry hadn't been happy about what had happened. The
Admiral had been careful to avoid stepping on any toes. He'd made it clear he
would follow Harry's orders. That seemed a little disconcerting to the bald
assistant, but he'd accepted it after a few minutes.

“Too
cantankerous to die that damn easy. Never thought coffee would do me in. I
thought it'd be a pissed two bit hooker wanting a tip,” a scratchy simian voice
said in the background. Irons grinned at the sound.

“Good
to hear your voice you old coot. Can't keep a good chimp down.”

“Definitely.
Especially since all the damn nurses in here are male. None to harass properly.
Sorry Doc, I just don't swing your way.”

“No
offense taken,” the amused paramedic said shaking his head. “You were correct,
he had a near lethal dose in him. He's doing well now. We pumped his stomach
and scoured his throat to get anything we missed. His digestive track is
scoured clean. And I do mean clean. I'm keeping him over night just to be
sure,” he chuckled softly. “One way to put him on a danish free diet.”