Fool's Gold (The Wandering Engineer) (37 page)

"I
was asking if anyone knows where Captain Gutierrez is. We need to talk to him
about his tug," Irons said patiently.

"I'll
handle this, you three move on." A blond heavyset female waved the others
off. Reluctantly they moved off. She turned on him.

"What
business do you have?" she asked. "Admiral right?" She lifted a
scarred and heavily pierced eyebrow. Irons smiled.

"We
need to lease his tender for a critical mission," he replied.

She
studied him for a moment. "He's not likely to allow anyone near old Betsy
you know that right? After the fire, he won’t let anyone near her," she
shook her head.

"Best
be looking elsewhere if I was you." She started to move off.

"Unfortunately
I can't. There aren't any other ships on station with the tender's range. She's
it," Irons sighed. "She's the only thing we have that can hold a
prayer to get to a derelict."

The
woman paused then lifted her hat brim with her thumb. She chewed something then
spat it on the deck. Irons tried not to wince.

"Shoot.
All right, your funeral. He's on deck forty nine. Section five A. Look for the
picture of a wooden ring thing, that's his door." She waved and left.

Irons
grimaced.

"Get
all that?" he asked softly.

"Of
course," Sprite answered.

"It's
cleaner than most." Irons looked around the corridor. He had made his way
through the narrow, debris and vagrant covered corridors, through a stretch of
dark narrow corridors then into a cleaner section.

"Turn
right Admiral. Entering section five A now."

Irons
looked around. "Great dorms. I'm not thrilled about knocking on
doors," he sighed. "Wait, is that a picture of a steering wheel from
an old sailing ship?" he asked stopping suddenly.

"Admiral,
there are several people on the plot approaching. I suggest you keep moving.
There is a forty nine percent probability that you are being stalked,"
Defender warned. Irons grimaced.

"Yes
Admiral, it is a steering wheel from an old sailing ship. And it meets the
super's description," Sprite answered. "Shall we knock?" she
asked.

"By
we you mean me of course," Irons replied putting action to words.

"Who
is it? Go away!" A snarl answered him.

"Which
do you prefer?" Irons asked amused.

"What?
What?"

"Go
away or answer who it is?" Irons asked patiently.

"Goddess
of space spare me the nit wit twits. Just get on will ya!" the voice
replied. Irons chuckled.

"In
a moment. I am looking for a Captain Gutierrez." He waited patiently. In a
few moments the voice came back more subdued but curious.

"Why
do you ask?"

"My
name is John Irons. I need to commission your ship Captain."

"Well,
you’re a polite one, even if you don't do as your told. Well, you ain't getting
her."

"All
indications are that this is Captain Gutierrez," Sprite reported. Irons
smiled patiently. “You knew that already. Sorry for stating the obvious,”
Sprite said amused.

"Captain,
I'd rather not hold this discussion with your door, if at all possible."

"You
mean you want to see me face to face? Then have a good look then!" The
door slid open and a battered man holding a sawed off shot gun stared at him.

Irons
nodded. The man’s face was scarred, he was missing an eye and ear. Most of his
hair was gone. His left arm was gone at the elbow. He had a crutch in that
armpit keeping him upright.

He
was wearing a torn coverall, covered in stains. It seemed too big for his
emaciated frame. His left leg was gone, only an stump remained. A peg leg
propped him up.

"Had
enough of a look?" Gutierrez asked.

 Irons
shrugged. "I've seen worse."

"Smart
alec." He reached to tap the door controls but the door froze.

"Dag
blame piece of crap!" the old man swore looking at the door. Irons moved
in, re-leaving him of his shot gun.

"Excuse
me." He turned and held his right arm to the door panel. Proteus went to
work. He watched the plot as the people stalking him moved into the center of
the corridor and started to charge. He looked up to see one had a vibro knife.

"Not
on," he growled. Suddenly the door shut.

Irons
turned to the crippled man who was staring. "Sorry, I noticed they were
stalking me and had to think fast." He handed the old man his shot gun.
"I believe this is yours."

The
old man took the gun but continued to stare. Irons smiled. "As I said,
I've seen worse." He shrugged. "Back in the hospital, and in the
mirror." He waved his right hand at his blank stare. "Hello!"

The
old man shook his head then turned and sat down. He held his crutch then tossed
it to one side. "Well, now that you’re in here, what do you want?" he
asked.

Irons
sighed. "I want to lease your ship captain," he said patiently.

"Ole
Betsy? She's not any good. I swore she wouldn't fly again after what happened
to me the last time." He turned so his burnt side was in the light.

Irons
nodded. "I can fix her. If we have time. We need to use her to salvage
Firefly. She is our only chance," Irons explained.

The
old man cackled for a moment then started coughing. "Here have a
drink." Irons handed him a water bottle. He took a sip and grimaced.

"Water.
bah, Moonshine's better." He spat.

"Moonshine
would have had you coughing even worse," Irons replied with a smile.

"That
it would. What'd you say your name was again?" the old man squinted at
him.

"Irons.
Admiral Irons. Fleet Admiral."

"Admiral!"
Gutierrez tried to reach for the shotgun across his lap but Irons placed a
restraining hand on it.

"Fleet
Admiral, Federation navy. I am a sleeper," he smiled.

"Pull
the other one, it's got bells on. You're younger than me, whipper
snapper."

Irons
chuckled. "I'm a rejuv among other things." He held up his right arm.
"Also a cyborg."

Gutierrez
stared. "Now you’re really putting me on. Them died out in the war. None
left but Logan." Irons smiled and keyed his demo. Gutierrez's remaining
eye went wide.

"Lordy
be, you are..." He began to cough again. Irons waited it out then gave him
the water bottle.

"Well,
that's a bit different," the old man wheezed.

"I
can offer you full medical care and a full restoration of your ship,"
Irons said patiently as the man sat back.

"Medical
care eh? Like what, some spackle and a physical by one of them pretty
doctors?" He shook his head.

"No,
you can have a full repair, including a rejuv." Irons said.

"Repair!
Ha! There ain't nothing that can repair this!" he patted his stumps.
"Or this!" he pointed to his missing left eye. Irons smiled.

"Well
if you don't want or your body can't take cloned body parts you could have
cybernetics like I have." He sat down and rolled up his pant legs.

"What
do you..." Irons keyed a sequence and his legs morphed. Tool compartments
opened and a pair of shield generators came out.

"Well,
I ah..." Gutierrez shook his head. Irons returned his legs to normal then
rolled his pant legs down.

"I
lost my right eye. Both ears as well. I have cybernetic replacements now,
cloned tissue with a weave of cybernetics." He looked at the old man.
"Or you can go the more traditional method. It's up to you." Irons
shrugged.

"Um..."
Gutierrez looked around. "I need a drink," he muttered then shook his
head. "I go as well. Where Betsy goes, I go."

Irons
nodded reluctantly. It wasn't like he didn't know that had been coming.
"IF!" He held up a finger. "If the Doc clears your heart and
circulatory system. I don't want you getting a heart attack while under way
captain. I don't want your death on my conscience I've had enough of that
already thank you."

Gutierrez
scowled then nodded. "The medicines, ship rebuild, and implants. And fuel
there and back, I sold all of Betsy's years ago." He shrugged. Irons
nodded.

"And
I get to keep all my parts and excess fuel," Gutierrez added. Irons smiled
and nodded again. "Well, put her there." Gutierrez spat into his
right hand then held it out. Irons repeated the gesture then they shook hands.

"I
want it in writing or no one gets on old Betsy. I'll check with Horatio to make
sure this is all on the up and up." Irons nodded.

"Prudent.
I was going to go..." He turned as the door behind him opened.

"Dad
some guy's been asking about you..." A woman came in and stopped at seeing
the Admiral. "Huh, looks like you found him. Out!" she pointed. The
Admiral's eyebrows rose.

"How
did you get through the gauntlet Casey?" Gutierrez asked.

"Gauntlet?
Oh you mean Perdu and his death brigade?" she sniffed. "I tossed
Perdu his weekly protection fee, what else?" she said with disdain.

Irons
chuckled. "So that's how it works." He shook his head.

"Dad
you didn't let him..." Gutierrez looked guilty. "You did!" She
started to argue. Irons backed up then turned, trying to give them space. He
tried to tune out the argument.

"I'll
just get a drink," he said. They didn't even hear him. He went over to the
food replicator and went to work on it. Someone had spliced in hoses to a pair
of tanks outside the main unit. Most likely the food lines were fouled he
surmised.

"It
don't work again, piece of crap," the woman said. "Hey leave that
alone!" she waved to him. He was putting the access panel back on.

"It's
fixed," the Admiral replied.

"Fixed?
Yeah right," she sniffed. He tapped the controls and ordered a cup of
coffee. In a moment the replicator lit and then a cup formed.

"Well!"
she sniffed, eyes wide. Irons smiled.

"I
am a sleeper like Chief Logan. He's a friend. Actually, he served under me
briefly before the war." Irons shrugged as he took the cup out and took a
sip. He grimaced.

"What,
doesn't taste right?" Gutierrez asked.

"A
little off. A little hot too. I think the microwave guides need to be replaced.
The water has an aftertaste to it, most likely because of crap in the
lines." He shook his head studying the unit. "Cheap. I ran into that
on other parts of the station. They used plastic instead of copper for the
water lines. Plastic picks up corrosion and bacteria over time. You don't get
that with copper, it forms an oxide patina that fights off that sort of crud."

Both
Gutierrez looked at him confused. He looked up from his cup. "Copper acts
as an antimicrobial. It forms a protective sheath when exposed to
concentrations of microbes or minerals. It kills microbes," he explained
then shrugged.

"Well,
you are full of surprises," Gutierrez chuckled slapping his knee. His
daughter turned on him giving him a quelling look. "Now Casey, don't lord
up on me. I knew what I was doin'. Besides, the deals done, we shook on
it," he nodded firmly to Irons.

"But
nothing is in writing yet I suppose." She turned on Irons. "Writing
too good for you?" she asked with a sniff.

"Not
at all. I just didn't bring the materials. Besides. I recorded the entire
agreement and uploaded it to the station already," Irons replied with a
smile and a salute of his coffee cup. She gave him a disbelieving look.

"Check
the mainframe if you doubt it. Under new contracts. Emergency. Cross reference
pirates and your father's name. Add mine as well if you need to.”

She
crossed over to a desk and sat down. She typed at the keyboard and studied the
cracked LCD then looked up to her father. "He's right, it's there."
Irons nodded.

"See?
I also made an appointment for your father." He cocked his head.

"Ten
fifteen tomorrow morning is her earliest Admiral," Sprite answered. Irons
grimaced.

"Ten
fifteen is the earliest Anvil's Chief Medical Officer doctor Thorby has
open," he sighed.

"Thought
you were in a hurry?" Gutierrez asked.

"I
am, but we can work on the parts lists for your ship while we wait," Irons
looked over to the captain.

"I've
got a list around here somewhere," Gutierrez waved. His daughter got up
and came back a few moments later with a crumpled up, stained paper.

"Not
much to go on. Can you tell me the make and model of the ship? Her engine?
Parts?"

Gutierrez
cackled. "Why, sure I can. She's a mutt like me Admiral, just trying to
warn you though. About the only thing original on her is her frame." Irons
chuckled.

"Not
a problem. We'll get her sorted out. I'll upload the parts to Angie to start
replicating now."