Fool's Gold (The Wandering Engineer) (49 page)

She
sighed. "Yeah. I'm after Harris and Dan today so I better get engineering
set up for when I'm gone." She nodded politely to him as she gathered her tablet
and walked out.

"Admiral,
Gutierrez's implants were a success. He is in the regen tank now. I think I've
got the hang of this," Doc said then opened a video channel. He nodded to
her. "Good work Doc, Glad to hear it." She was dressed in scrubs with
a mask covering her face.

"I'm
going to try to do four of the command staff, Dan, Harris, Janice, and Shelby
today. I've got a few people who will stand in and I hope they will pick up the
techniques so we can have multiple surgery teams going." She shrugged. It
looked odd with her hands up in the air. He nodded realizing she was keeping
them away from everything to keep them sterile. Sterility fields were only good
for a few pathogens. The doctor was taking every precaution. That was good to
see.

"Right.
Dan and Harris just left, do you want me to page them?" he asked.

"No,
Janice is in prep now. I'll have Harris paged as soon as we start. My nurse can
prep him while I finish." She grimaced as a nurse pulled up her face mask.

"We're
ready doctor," the nurse murmured.

"Right.
Got to go, See you," she nodded. The nurse reached around and cut the
circuit. Irons nodded.

"Well,
that's good news. Hopefully we don't run into any complications." He said.
Firefly's avatar nodded.

"There
is the usual post surgery swelling and minor bleeding, but Captain Gutierrez is
stable and responding well. His extensive injuries will take time to repair in
the regen tank though," Firefly reported to the bridge crew. Irons
grimaced as the crew murmured.

"Which
will tie that up for some time. Hopefully we can get the sickbay on the station
up to implants as well. At least on the easy patients," he grimaced.

"Possible,"
Firefly responded.

“In
again, out again, Finnegan. What's the deal Admiral? Can't make up your mind
where you want to be?” a voice asked as he walked through the concourse to
sickbay. He turned.

“We
need to align the shields and drive. We can't do that in port. It would chew up
the station,” he answered looking at the elf standing on the top of a banister.
“So that means going out a safe distance, turning everything on, getting them
aligned, then doing a couple runs to break the equipment in.” He shrugged. He
also needed to give the replicators lead time to get parts done, tested, and
too the docks.

“I
see,” Oberon nodded. “Well, it is good to see my kids every once in a while I
suppose.” He shook his small head. “Do take care of them.”

Irons
nodded, hefting the box he had in his hands. “I'll do my best.”

“You
do that. And take care yourself Admiral.” The elf hopped down and then walked
off, disappearing into the crowd of legs.

   
Irons entered the doctor's inner sanctum and smiled. She was sitting in her
chair, bent over the desk. She groaned. "I hear I have you to thank for my
current workload. Remind me to thank you properly for it. Maybe a rectal
exam... no that's too easy, maybe a full GI work up," she said tiredly
rubbing her temples.

"Oh
buck up, you’re enjoying it, you know it," he said chuckling softly.
"Besides, I have a gift," he smiled. “Consider it a thank you for
your hard work with the implants.”

"And
what, pray tell do you think would get you back in my good graces?" she
demanded looking up to him. He pulled a plate out of the box and held it up.
Her eyes locked onto the plate in his left hand.

"Oh,
some fudge," he said innocently.

"Fudge?"
she asked sniffing.

His
smile turned into a grin.

"All
right, just this once your off the hook. Gimme." She held out her hands
and made grasping motions. He chuckled as he handed her the plate. Her eyes
widened at the brown square. "Ohhh..."

She
took a bite. "Heavenly," she sighed, sitting back. "For that, I
forgive you and the unnatural beasts that spawned you." She opened her
eyes and took another bite. "Now shoo," she said, eyes closed, hand
making dismissing waves. He chuckled as he quietly left.

Harris
smiled. "Looks like things are working well. I'm glad I'm here, not
serving on Anvil as some staff weenie any more." He shook his head.

Logan
looked up and frowned. "It takes all kinds of people to serve in the navy
son." He studied the tac officer. The young man was shaking down
surprising well but he had a lot of rough edges. Fortunately they had time to
work on a few. They still had about three weeks left of the admiral's original
time estimate Logan thought. And loads of work to do he thought mentally. He
was pretty sure the pirates weren't going to enjoy the party they were planning
in their honor. Even though the the tactician was looking like he was. Harris
looked amused and full of himself.

"You've
got to admit sir, it's better to be sitting on a bridge than off shuffling
papers. Or watching the action from the sidelines," he shrugged. Irons
nodded.

"But
there are different branches of the navy, we need them all. Medical, Technical,
Tactical, Teachers, Command, Support, Intelligence, Research, Fighters, and yes
bureaucrats," he waved. Harris looked amused.

"Believe
it. We have to have bean counters, as much as we hate them. Someone has to keep
us honest, keep track of the materials and people, where they go, what they can
do," Logan patiently explained. “Many a battle has been lost because they
didn't have the right material on hand when they needed it.”

"I
was wondering about that, the whole different mindset thing. When I was reading
Halsey's monograph, he talked about the different mindsets in the navy."
Dan looked over to the Admiral and exec. "I mean, he talked about fighters
and politicians, and bureaucrats and such."

Irons
reluctantly nodded. "There are those people, careerists, who make their
careers by hanging onto the coat tails of someone else, or by being someone's
eyes and ears. It's not a pleasant thought, they can be promoted far beyond
their abilities just for that, and it can cause problems."

He
looked over to Logan who nodded. "I've served with a few myself." He
shrugged then looked over to Dan and Harris. "Then there are the fighters,
the ones who can fight, but are terrible in peace time," he smiled. Irons
nodded.

"What
about the teachers?" Harris asked.

"The
best are the ones who can both lead, inspire, fight, and teach. It's a rare
combination. Some have those qualities naturally, others can fake it."
Irons raised a hand. "I'm a techno nerd, I freely admit it. I can teach,
in fact, I've come to enjoy it. But command can weigh heavy on you. It takes
time to get used to and if you come at it

cold
as I did, it can break an officer as easily as make one," he shrugged.
“But to be honest? I'd rather be elbow deep in a repair job or designing a new
system over sitting at my desk shuffling paperwork any old day.” The others
chuckled at that.

“I've
had a couple incidents though that promoted me faster than I was comfortable
for. Or so I thought,” he shrugged. “I guess you could say I rose to the
occasion as the case warranted.”

"You
are talking about some of the scrapes you were in," Harris asked nodding.

"Yes.
I was lucky," Irons shrugged. Dan gave him a disbelieving look. So did
Logan. Irons blushed and shrugged it off. "Believe what you will. But we
got the job done. Speaking of which, let's get this test run finished so we can
stand down and take on more supplies." He nodded to Firefly's avatar.

"Right,
synchronizing tac and defense consoles now..."

“Can
I talk with you for a moment Admiral?” the Doc asked.

“Sure.”
He looked up to see she wasn't alone. “Come in both of you. All three of you.”
He smiled as Doctor Standish and Shelby came in with her. “Four.” She waved to
another frumpy looking woman.

“ Thanks,
since this is my office,” Thorby looked amused. “Admiral this is Jenni Martel,
our resident genealogist and geneticist.” The mousy woman shook hands with the
Admiral then sat down.

“We
were talking about the implants and I ran across a couple references involving
genetic engineering. They are maddeningly brief. I was wondering if you had any
thoughts on them,” Thorby said.

“Genies?”
he asked. “In relation to implants?” They nodded. “You are talking about the
changes to improve sentients and make implant tech easier to assimilate,” he
nodded.

"So
your saying they are better?" Doc asked. Irons grimaced.

"Yes
and no, You have to understand, genies have an improved immune system and other
features that both enhance chances of survival, but also detract from chances
of survival as well."

She
looked confused. "What do you mean?" Shelby asked.

"Well,
for instance a mod that enhances muscle strength. That has trade offs."
The doctor began to look thoughtful. "For instance, it takes a lot of
calories to keep the muscles fed, and a lot of work to keep them in tone,"
he shrugged. The doctor nodded.

"Nothing
ever comes for free," she muttered. He smiled.

"Exactly.
Improved muscle strength means you need stronger cartilage and bones, which
means less bone marrow so there is less blood production and a higher chance of
bone cancers when exposed to radiation." He shrugged. "Also healing
is a major problem. Some of the earlier mods had enhanced muscles but not
enhanced tendons and ligaments, which..." He shrugged. Both women winced.

"So
it's a trade off?" Shelby asked, looking from one to another.

"Evolution
at its finest, or lowest, depending on your point of view. A person with an
enhanced immune system is more likely to survive when exposed to disease or
bacteria, enhanced muscles will give you a brief window of survival, but then
again a base line organic has a higher chance of survival because they require
less food in the lean times," he explained. Doc nodded.

"You
keep saying organics. Don't you mean humans?" a nurse said coming up
behind him. He turned.

"Shelly..."
Doc started to wave her off but Irons held up a restraining hand.

"No,
she's right to ask. I say organics because there are a lot of other sentient
species out there, and several did genetic changes of their own." He
shrugged. "Some like the Ynari and the Xeno's have completely changed
their genetic code. They are incompatible with their own species of earlier
times."

"So
that's what they mean by polymorphic or polygenetic," the doctor murmured.

"Well,
yes and no, some polymorhs, like the blobs of New Genesis don't fit the
category. Then there are the Ynari, they alter their genetic code to each
environment. They keep a genetic toolbox with them." He shrugged.

“Most
DNA is actually a tool box. Recessive genes are turned off but still stored in
case of future need. I guess the Ynari take it to the extreme,” Thornby said.

"Must
be interesting telling them apart," the nurse joked.

"I
don't know if any still survive. Maybe." Irons looked sad for a moment.

The
doctor cleared her throat. "So the, ah, neural dendrite clusters were
genetic mods to facilitate implants?" she asked getting back to the
subject. Irons nodded getting back on track.

"Right.
There are clusters at each of the normal implant locations that lead to the
major sensory or other important functions in the brain. Also, there are
increased cross over linkages between the brain hemispheres, making the person
a bit smarter, and faster on their feet, but makes their brains more vulnerable
to injury." He shrugged.

"Another
trade off I suppose," Shelby said darkly, looking away.

"All
things come with risk Commander. And not all risk can be predicted in advance,
mapped out, and avoided easily. This one probably was a side effect they didn't
game out or anticipate. If they had, they may have added more cushioning fluids
or something." The Admiral shrugged. "I am not sure, I'm not a
geneticist or a doctor," he smiled. "I'll take a hyper drive any day
over trying to make heads or tails of a chromosome strand." Doc chuckled.

"To
each his own then. I'm not a geneticist either, but I think I can get by. Or at
least use the tools they left in us. I'll leave that to doctor Martel here.”
She nodded politely to the doctor. She tapped the dendrite clusters. "It's
interesting that they are still there, after centuries of sleep." She
looked up to Irons.

"Um,
well, they made them a dominant trait. So it is passed from generation to
generation." He shrugged. She nodded.

"Dominant
trait?" Shelby asked. "Dare I ask?" she smiled.

"It
means they added it to the X chromosome, but in a part that is critical. Not in
the recessive gene bank. You see, the human body only uses a tenth of its
genetic code, the rest is recessive genes from past generations. Call it an
archive or storage. When people breed sometimes they are tapped and come
out," the doctor explained.