Fool's Gold (The Wandering Engineer) (50 page)

“Some
of the other common species were doing similar things just before the war broke
out. Unfortunately due to long periods of growth, not to mention testing I'm
not sure how many actually survived,” Irons frowned in thought.

“Then
of course there is the fact that most of that work was done on home worlds or
on medical research stations. Most of which probably didn't survive the war,”
Doctor Martel said shaking her head.

“There
is that,” Irons nodded. “One of the problems you’re going to have is the
recessive genes in our more... less varied crew.”

“Yes,
it will be a challenge. We're building a gene bank actually and making it open
to the public,” she smiled coyly to the Admiral. “Your more than welcome to
donate...”

“Thanks
but no thanks.” He held up his hands laughing.

“So
recessive genes are biology's way of storing data it may not need but doesn't
want to throw out?” Shelby asked.

The
nurse nodded. Irons smiled. "And it makes people a little different than
each other, giving each generation a larger chance of survival over the next.
There is a randomization factor built into each generation to better its
chances for survival."

"Back
to your survival thing again," Shelby muttered.

Irons
chuckled. "Yeah, it ties into that." He waved it away. "Don't
worry about it. The point is, it has worked, and will work for generations to
come. Let's focus on what we can do with it." The women each nodded.

Irons
grimaced at the crowd. They were in port at Anvil for another two hours while
they took on the latest stores the station had managed to build. Work crews
were frantically working on the outer hull, replacing what they could in the
interm. He was pretty sure the station and crew were working twenty hour days.
They still had a lot more of them in the future but there was now a light at
the end of the long tunnel.

He
was leading Dan and Harris to Ops for a conference. He'd rather be overseeing
the new drive pods being installed but he knew Shelby and Logan could handle it
so let it slide and decided to check in with Enrique and the staff. It was a
ticklish affair, tuning the pods and they didn't need him breathing down their
necks while they tried to work. He needed to encourage their independence
anyway he thought.

He
studied the crowd covertly as they walked. The arrival of Firefly had shaken
people out of their doldrums. Doc had informed him there had been a brief rash
of suicides prior to their mission, but now people were beginning to feel hope.
He nodded politely to a few who waved as they passed. He was hoping they had
some ideas to contribute.

"Harris!
Dan! Where have you been??!" A voice out of the crowd made both Dan and
Harris freeze, shoulders hunched. Together they turned. Irons turned as well,
curious.

"Oh...my...
god..." Sprite said then started to giggle.

The
crowds parted around a man dressed like a Prussian peacock or clown. His
costume had naval overtones however. Irons wasn't sure what to think. He had an
elaborate peaked cap, with gold trim.

A
meter long feather was on one side over the left ear. His collar was stiff and
tall, almost to his ears. It opened to a hairy chest. His shoulders were
covered in elaborate gold and silver threaded shoulder boards, they stood out
from each shoulder by a good ten centimeters.

His
jacket was white, festooned with gold and silver braid, medals of all sorts and
the jacket arms were covered in tiger striped hash markers and rockers. Irons
shook his head.

He
wore white pants, again covered in rockers. His belt, sword, and glittering gun
holster were overkill. Sprite's avatar circled the man as he talked quietly
with Dan and Harris. She circled the peacock, hands on her hips then struck a
pose and rubbed her jaw.

"You
know..." she traced a finger over the glittering medals. "I really
don't know what to think. Flashy." The man's sword flashed through her
avatar and bumped someone. The man cursed then dodged.

"Is
he wearing high heels?" Sprite asked, studying his feet. "He is! Must
be to compensate for his height. You organics are always doing things like
that," the AI sniffed. The shoes were covered in silver glitter, and were
definitely high heels. The toes bulged out like clown shoes. Irons felt his jaw
tighten.

"So
where the hell have you two been? I've been waiting for our usual game!"
the man whispered.

"Don't
you listen to Knox or anything? We're in the fleet now, the real fleet,"
Dan whispered. He looked over to Irons who looked away. "That's the
Admiral."

"What
like the new Port Admiral? Or is he another player? I think I can take
him." The man started to swagger up to Irons but Harris grabbed his arm.
"Can it you dolt, he's the real deal. FLEET Admiral Irons. Yeah, the real
one." The man's eyes widened comically.

"You
are kidding. For real? Oh this I gotta see." He smiled and bowed to the
Admiral then came to a semblance of parade rest. Irons turned back to him
eyebrow raised.

"I'd
like to volunteer Admiral." Irons turned to Harris whose face was flushed
in red, clearly embarrassed. Dan looked a little pale.

"You're
a member of Harris and Dan's group?" Irons asked.

"I
am. I'm one of the better members," the man said proudly, striking a pose.
Harris sighed. The man rounded on him. "Hey, I beat you remember?" he
growled.

"Only
cause you had a dreadnought and I had a destroyer." He looked over to
Irons and shrugged looking guilty. "It was a stupid bet, besides, I was
kinda hammered at the time." He turned a glare on Dan who was trying not
to smile. "That and someone had a hand in giving you the dreadnought and
putting me up to the fight."

Dan
laughed. "Dude, you should have seen your face though! It was so worth
it." He pointed an accusing finger at Harris who irritably pushed it away.

"So
you're into tactics?" Irons asked.

"Yes
Admiral. Xelford Slythern the third at your service." He bowed once more.
The crowd had parted around them, but several people were staring.

"He's
a tailor," Dan stage whispered to Irons.

"Fashion
designer," Xelford corrected with a smug expression, then struck a pose,
chin lifted.

 Irons
shook his head. "Well Mr. Slythern, we do not have many openings for
tailors, the fabric extruders do most of the work." He shrugged. Slythern
looked a little crestfallen.

"I
don't think you'd like going into combat, and I couldn't justify the risk
son," Irons said.

 Slythern
paled then nodded. "You are really doing it? Going into combat? Against
who?" he asked turning around. "With what?" he asked. Irons
shook his head with everything going on how could the guy be this clueless?

"We've
salvaged Firefly. She's taking on stores and making repairs now. As to who,
well, there is a group of pirates that may be coming. We're trying to get
ready," Irons explained patiently. Slythern looked over to Harris and Dan
for confirmation. Both nodded. He paled even more.

"Oh,
count me out then, I don't think I could do much then. I mean." He
shrugged helplessly. Irons nodded.

"A
naval career isn't for everyone. It's hard work," he smiled politely.

"Oh
well, perhaps in another life. I have a customer to see to." The peacock
turned and then walked off stiffly. His coat tails dragged on the floor behind
him.

"Talk
about a walking fashion disaster. Still, that would be interesting for a mess
dress uniform don't you think? Should I put in an order?" Sprite sounded
amused.

"Oh
shut up," Irons sighed then shook his head chuckling. "Anything else
you gentlemen think I should know?" He gave the two men a look. Both shook
their heads looking extremely embarrassed.

Irons
looked around the room and nodded to a Veraxin in the corner. The insectoid alien
was rail thin, his purple tinted chitin shone in the lights of the conference
room. It was odd seeing a Veraxin wearing a duster and American west style
cowboy hat though. The Veraxin had an odd neck. It was stiff, made of two
sections with one joint connecting them. The small head was on the tip. The
neck bent like an elbow joint, just up and down instead of in and out. It could
be disconcerting to those not used to seeing it.

A
horn stuck out where the usual human upper lip would be. It went out nearly 10
centimeters then ended in a hammer shape. There were a few mended cracks in the
alien's chitin exoskeleton. Obviously he had seen a lot of combat since his
last molt.

"Sheriff
Trac?" Irons asked. The alien uncrossed his upper arms and pulled a cigar
out. He put it in his mouth, then lit it with his thorax arms.

"That's
me. You the Admiral?" He looked the Admiral over.

"Yes,"
Irons nodded. The alien was hard to read, he had two sets of multicellular eyes
that constantly moved around his head. A pair of feather like whiskers rose out
where his nose would be on a human, up to touch the hat brim. His mouth was
split into multiple mandibles. One was partially missing.

"I'm
the sheriff in these here parts." He took a puff on the cigar and looked
the Admiral over. "What's it to you?" he asked. His head bobbed up
and down a little. Irons shrugged.

"That
depends."

"On
what?"

"On
whether I think you’re going to work with me and are honest." He looked at
Enrique who nodded. The sheriff studied the exec then flicked ash off his
cigar.

"That
a fact?" he said. Irons couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. The Veraxin
moved his thorax arms again, opening the duster to expose his gun belts. His
lower hands flexed.

"I
wanted to talk to you about your bully boys. Sorta clear the air," the
Veraxin said then chittered. Irons brow knit. Sprite fed the chitter into his
universal translation then highlighted a curse word on his HUD.

"That's
not polite," Irons said softly looking at the sheriff. "I don't like
being called names." His voice dropped into a warning growl. The Veraxin
froze then looked at him with all four sets of eyes.

He
chittered again. Irons eyebrow raised as Sprite translated. "Let's keep it
clean Trac. Leave my family out of it," he replied in Veraxin, then
watched as the Veraxin's mandibles went slack, knowing the shot went home. The
cigar fell from his suddenly nerveless pincers.

"Well
I'll be doggone, you do speak the mother tongue." The Sheriff picked up
his cigar and stubbed it out.

"What's
this about my bully boys? I don't remember having any," Irons said.

"You
know, the guards," the Veraxin waved a three fingered lower hand.

Irons
frowned. "Don't they report to you?"

"No,
they reported to that stooge Mengela, but he left with the Port Admiral,"
the sheriff said. Irons looked over to Enrique who shrugged.

"All
right sheriff, they are your problem now."

The
sheriff froze again. "What am I supposed to do with them?" he asked.

"Train
them as peace officers. Weed out the undesirables. I want the entire force
turned around by the time I get back. We don't just need guards, we need peace
keepers, true officers," he nodded. "Deputy sheriffs if you
will."

The
sheriff tipped his hat brim back. "Well I'll be." He chittered a
laugh. He crossed his upper limbs. His lower limbs rested on his first set of
hips. Irons gave a tight lipped smile.

"Work
with Smithy, the exec, Matilda, and Judge Farley. Get them sorted out. Turn the
guard duty crap over to the drones as they become available. Draw recruits from
the general population as well, even the more honorable gangs if you think you
can rely on them." He looked over to the exec then back to the sheriff.
"Do you have a forensics lab?" he asked.

"Forensics?
No."

"Then
set one up. Work with the college. Start small. Make sure your people know
constitutional and station law and start enforcing it properly. Work out a
salary and budget for the peace officers and the corrections officers. No more
protection rackets." He locked onto the sheriff. It was hard to remain
focused, his eyes were orbiting still. The head bobbed up and down on the stiff
neck.

"I
getcha. I'll clean em up. This one horse town ain't big enough for all them
varmints," he nodded and left.

"Western
fan?" Irons pointed his thumb in the direction the sheriff left.

"How'd
you guess?"

Irons
dodged a work party and looked over to see Mayweather waiting by the lock.
"Admiral a word?" she asked tightly. He nodded.

"Follow
me." He nodded to the guard. She reluctantly stepped aside. "This
way," he motioned. Mayweather looked around the inside of the ship.

"Attention
on deck! Flag arriving!" Firefly intoned.

"Knock
it off Firefly, we've got work to do," Irons waved.