Destiny's Choice (The Wandering Engineer)
Read Destiny's Choice (The Wandering Engineer) Online
Authors: Chris Hechtl
Destiny's Choice
The Wandering Engineer 3
By Chris “Jekyll” Hechtl
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and
events portrayed in this book are fictional. Any resemblance to people
currently living is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce
this book and or portions thereof in any form.
Copyright 2011 by Chris Hechtl
Cover art Copyright 2011 by Chris Hechtl and Chris
“Mechmaster” Smith
Some 3d models, poses, and textures by
Most-digital-creations.com
Others are stock Daz assets or were downloaded from
the following places:
Renderocity.com
Sharecg.com
Credit goes to the artists who made them of course.
All others by Chris Hechtl.
Textures from Inspire 3D, Daz, Renderocity, and the
web.
This book is dedicated to all those science fiction
and space fans out there. May your reach never exceed your grasp for long.
Someday, somehow, we'll touch the stars.
Special thanks to Chris “Mechmaster” Smith for proof
reading. Twice. :)
“Admiral,
I'd like to apologize for keeping you in communication black out but I was
under orders,” the captain said as he came into the room. Irons cocked his head
as he got up off of the bunk.
“I
thought of that,” he nodded politely. He'd been unsure about the captain. His
bio had him as a man of honor and principle, but obviously there was a
discrepancy between the file and reality. He'd watched the captain on the
security cameras, curious if he was going to come here or not. Maybe there was
hint of what the file had said after all.
Captain
Ferguson was supposed to be a good man, an experienced spacer. He had the look,
lean and well muscled with just the hint of gray in the captain's short auburn
hair near his temples. Irons wasn't sure about the gray, he wasn't sure if it
was real or not. The crows feet around the eyes were real though.
The
man had aged a lot in his short fifty one years of life. He'd had a hard life
as an officer and then slave on Destiny. Now he was her captain.
His
uniform was well worn, comfortable but not shabby. It wasn't the gray coveralls
and overalls of the engineering crew, it was a simple off white with gold hash
marks on the jacket sleeves and gold pips on his upturned collar. Definitely a
civilian uniform.
“I
owe you my life. We all do,” the captain said, turning and stepping aside to
let Ed Chambers, the chief of security into the room.
Chambers
hesitated. He was a good sized man, but a fighter. He had an intellect hidden
behind that scowl though. Irons had read the man's file. He had an interest in
police work and was a good leader. His people respected him.
“It's
all right captain Ferguson. What's done is done. Besides, I found a way to get
the message out,” Irons grimaced. Sprite had not been kidding about dumping the
message onto every system and making everyone watch it. She'd even threatened
to have people answer quizzes on it before giving them system access. He'd had
to over rule her on that. The crew needed to function and they didn't need the
animosity.
“Yes.
Can you ah, delete it?” the balding security chief asked. He looked a little
imposing in the charcoal jumper he was wearing. Irons of course wasn't
bothered. The chromed stunner on the man's hip was a bit flashy, ruining the
look of keen understated professionalism Chambers had apparently been shooting
for.
“And
why would he do that?” Sprite said coldly from the overhead. “I put it there
actually. If you have a problem you can go take a walk out the nearest
airlock,” she said with some heat.
Irons
grimaced as the security chief flinched. “I'd also like you to limit your AI to
yourself,” the chief rumbled eying the speakers.
“That
will not be necessary,” the captain said shaking his head. “I apologize. But we
do need to get things straight. This is my ship,” he gave Ed a warning look.
There was just a hint of steel in that last simple statement. Okay so the
captain had some spine, Irons thought.
“Of
course it is. You are the captain,” Irons said nodding. He felt like kicking
himself though, Destiny was supposed to be a Naval reserve vessel, and her crew
were supposed to be reservists. Sprite had informed him an hour ago that the
crew had declined reserve status. He'd overlooked that in the mountain of
paperwork he'd processed over the past seven or eight months.
The
ship had been leased to the Pyrax government. Talk about divided loyalties. He
didn't envy them. Of course he also had his own damn problems to work out.
Unlike
Io 11 and Anvil Destiny had been restored before returning to service. Or at
least partially restored, he thought with mixed emotions. The one thing they
did get right apparently were the uniforms. They were civilian grade spacer
uniforms, an off white outfit with red and gold trim in the case of the
officers, but it was a step up from the home spun or worn to the woof hand me
downs that they had been wearing before they had entered the system. The
captain did look sharp, not quite a military look but not something you would
see a passenger liner wear, all gaudy and white. Practical with a hint of
seriousness in it.
Irons
was sure he was being studied and weighed as much as they were. It was an
interesting dilemma for both sides. A stalemate. He needed them to run the
ship. He couldn't afford the stigma of taking over the ship, mutiny wasn't in
his nature after all. Still he'd been tempted for a brief moment.
From
the look Chambers was shooting him the security chief was unhappily aware of
the possibility himself. He'd tried to institute measures but the best he could
do was post a guard force nearby. Of course Sprite was in the computer,
controlling his air among other things so he was behaving.
Irons
raised an eyebrow, not smiling as the silent stand off continued. Ferguson
wasn't sure what to make of him, that was plain. He was hesitant, obviously
Irons wasn't playing by the script. Chambers pursed his lips. He straightened
under the Admiral's regard, trying and remarkably succeeding in looking like a
professional.
It
was interesting seeing that, and seeing the changes in the crew. He'd seen it
on the video, seen how they blended in with the changed ship. A few were
adapting to it, and one looked down right shocked a few times when he had
entered an area he had apparently never been in before the clean up and
repairs.
Which
brought him back to Pyrax and what he had been trying to do. Much of the same
thing really, he had been trying to clean the system up and restore it.
Pyrax
had been a mess. He'd avoided politics as much as he could and this was his
penance for that. He'd focused on what he did best and let the politicians bite
him firmly in the ass.
He'd
been on his way to fulfilling a Renaissance, bringing back the flower of
civilization to a fallen dark time. Now all that was in flux. He had found out
the hard way that the system was a cesspool of corruption and the darkest of
political manipulation. He wished now that he had taken a stronger broom to the
entire system earlier on. Ah how he regretted that.
He
hadn't had much of a choice of course. It wasn't like some of the other star
systems were any better off. Pyrax had been his best hope of restoring the
Federation.
Io
11 had been helpful in that, picking him up from the dark recesses of the Senka
system over two years ago and then bringing him to Pyrax. On the journey there
he'd made some friends and with their help they had rebuilt the ship.
When
he'd gotten to Pyrax and the Anvil space station which served as the capital of
the system he'd faced a different sort of challenge. He'd found a crew mate
long thought dead, rebuilt the station, and resurrected the fleet but in the
end he'd been stabbed in the back by politics.
It
was one of his worst weaknesses, one he had a hard time trying to get a handle
on. Someone shooting at him he could deal with. That meant you duck and cover
and then return fire. But this... he couldn't fire back in the manner he'd been
trained. Oh he'd been trained to deal with politics, but he still had an
internal weakness there. He'd hesitated and made a tactical error, confronting
the terrorists behind the plot directly instead of stepping back and calling in
the marines. In the end he'd been forced into this exile. One he was pretty
sure everyone concerned already regretted. He knew he did at any rate.
“You
are a passenger. Not crew and not in charge,” the chief said crossing his arms.
The captain nodded.
“Also
understood,” Irons nodded, keeping a stoic face. The other two men looked a
little uncertain at that admission.
“I'd
like to point out that the Admiral invested a great deal of time and effort
into rebuilding this ship, as well as training and rehabilitating this crew...”
Sprite said with some heat. Irons raised a hand and she cut off her rant.
“I
of all people understand the chain of command captain. You are in charge. She
is your ship. But I have no intention of remaining sequestered in my quarters
for the remainder of the trip. Did your orders specify that?” he asked. They
had better not the implication was clear.
“No
in fact they didn't,” the captain glanced at the security chief. The look was
clear to all in the room, keep a lid on things. “I suppose you should get
access to the civilian sections and recreation facilities, such as they are on
the ship. At the moment however emotions are running high... and we are a bit
crowded for space.”
“In
other words, I'd watch your back if I were you Admiral,” Chambers said. The
implications of that statement was clear, Chambers had no interest in doing it
for him.
“Or
better yet, you'll do your job and watch it for him?” Sprite asked. Irons held
up a hand.
“Understood,”
Irons nodded as the men looked from the ceiling to him. Chambers didn't like
being rebuked and was looking decidedly nettled about being reminded to do his
job. Tough, Irons thought. Sprite had a point. “Were your orders specific on
where to drop me off?”
