“I would like you to take a run over to the San Marino spaceport,” Torrent told his second, “and pick up two packages for me.”
8
Rendezvous
San Marino Spaceport
Achernar
23 February 3133
Strapped into the ConstructionMech’s cracked vinyl seat by an ordinary lap belt, the militia’s newest MechWarrrior wrestled with unfamiliar postures and controls as he tried to pick up the tangled section of chain link fence. His left-hand vise grabbed at the wire mesh, pulling it to one side so that his bucket hand on the WorkMech’s right arm could dig out the buried pole. For the third time he misjudged, bringing the bucket down on the fencing and tearing it out of his own grip. Biting down on his frustration he pulled back on the controls, preparing to start again. The going was slow, but there was little hurry.
“Not like we’ll be using these landing pads anytime soon,” he whispered.
He had certainly seen this section of the San Marino spaceport in better shape.
The military’s “secure landing” zone was neither after the Steel Wolf raid two days before. Bunker-thick walls lay in untidy piles, protecting nothing better than a fire-gutted hangar and two collapsed warehouses. The trio of landing pads were scorched and scarred by errant lasers and artillery-made craters. A section of tunnel—one of two that connected the once-secure site to the underground service area on the larger, civilian side of the spaceport—had caved in, forming a long, deep depression into which a Republic militia Marksman had fallen. The second tunnel would need an incredible amount of shoring before safe access could be guaranteed.
Work teams, mostly civilian volunteers, had spread out over the ruined area in an attempt to clear the debris and recover whatever useful material remained to be salvaged. Like ants toiling to rebuild their shattered colony, people carried and fetched, formed a brigade line for moving dirt and rock out from around the second tunnel entrance, drove dozers and cranes and one of the ever-rarer IndustrialMechs. One team worked with body-sniffing dogs, searching for any of three missing reservists who might be buried under a pile of rubble. That was a duty Raul had no stomach for. Fortunately, there were other options.
Volunteering some of his off-time, today Raul substituted for the ConstructionMech’s usual operator who was now being trained to drive a combat-converted WorkMech. Soon, he knew, this vehicle would be pulled in to the base. A rocket launcher would be mounted over the top of the engine housing, and one of its arms might even be modified to carry some kind of light autocannon or small, one-shot missile system. In the last week Erik Sandoval had proven that converted IndustrialMechs could hold their own against ground vehicles, and The Republic militia was not too proud to learn from the ambitious noble.
“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” Raul said to himself, and sounded half-convinced.
Well, this was the right planet for making such conversions, he knew, with Achernar IndustrialMechs one of the planet’s largest companies. Loaders, Forestries, Miners, ConstructionMechs… and that brought him back to his volunteer job.
He gazed through the scratched ferroglass canopy, studying the violently-disassembled fencing. This was his last task for the day, before having to report back to base. With a sharp exhale, he grabbed for the mesh again and tried to dig out the connecting pole.
Missed.
Raul levered up the ’Mech’s throttles until its combustion engine roared with new life. The chassis shook and dark exhaust smoke belched into the air. Raul opened the vise wide, gathering as much of the fencing mesh as possible in one giant handful, then tightened down on the grips as he shuffle-walked backward. The ConstructionMech ripped the fencing out into a long carpet of tangled metal, quickly winning a brief tug-of-war match against the buried post. That accomplished, he balled up the chain and posts into one ungainly mess, grabbed it in an awkward hug, and lifted it high overhead ready to carry it to the waiting dump truck.
Jessica Searcy stood on the far side of the ruined ground, hardhat perched awkwardly on her head and a portable cooler in hand.
From twenty meters away she likely missed Raul’s guilty start. He quickly waved her over toward the truck, using exaggerated gestures she was sure to catch. Raul shuffled the WorkMech into a wide turn, careful of his load, and marched over to the waiting vehicle where he ’Mechhandled the ungainly mess of fencing into the back. Stepping back, gritting his teeth at the obnoxious bleating alarm that sounded to warn others of the backpedaling machine, Raul found a clear area to park the Worker.
Grounding both long arms for stability he shut down the engine, feeling as if the entire world had come to rest without that laboring rattle at his back. Shucking his earplugs and tossing them to the littered floor, he kicked open the stuck door and jumped down to the ground, ignoring a short ladder.
Jessica didn’t look ready to work. Her casual blouse would never stand up to the abuse and she had chosen slacks instead of jeans. But she was here, and that alone left Raul feeling better. He had called her this morning, asking her to join him on the work party. This time their old argument had turned on a sharper edge, and she had eventually slammed the phone down on him.
“I thought you had real work to do?” he asked. Not mean, but not completely forgiving either.
Jessica shrugged, and had the good manners to look a bit ashamed at her earlier, heated words. “I thought someone told me this was real work.” She sounded apologetic. Leaning forward, she kissed Raul’s sweaty cheek. “I made up my mind too late to be of much help, so I made a large lunch and brought it out. There’s plenty.” She glanced around, counting the number of volunteers. “Maybe not, actually.”
Raul took the cooler and set it aside. “It’s appreciated.” He was glad she’d come, talking through the vidphones wasn’t enough to ease the ache of missing her, but her timing left a great deal to be desired. Pulling a rag out of his pocket, Raul wiped down his face. “I wish you had come out earlier.” He nodded toward a waiting shuttle bus. “I’m about to be relieved.”
“Early day?” Jessica frowned. “Have you at least eaten something?”
Raul glanced guiltily at the container of food. “I’m taking a meeting this afternoon where there will be food provided. I’ll eat. Honest.” He even sounded guilty, and there was no reason to.
She nodded, skeptical. Likely remembering the last time she had come after him with an offer of dinner and found a half-eaten doughnut. “Are you being careful?” she asked suddenly.
Now that was a loaded question. “As careful as I can be, Jess.”
He couldn’t think of anything else to say, especially after their argument on the phone. Raul knew that his fiancée worried for him. This was not the kind of life Jessica had in mind to lead. He saw his replacement walking over, took Jessica’s arm and pulled her aside.
“Look, I know this is hard. I trained for this, once, and it’s hard on me too.” Raul had tried to tell her about his misgivings on the battlefield, that first day, but it was like they spoke different languages. “Help is on the way, Jess. There’s a Knight-Errant coming over from Ronel to survey the situation and call up additional support as needed. That’s the advantage of having a working HPG station.”
Jessica nodded perfunctorily. “A Knight. That’s great.” She certainly didn’t sound very enthused, although she made an effort to smile. “So maybe this will all be over soon and you’ll be home.”
“I hope so,” Raul said, shifting from one foot to the other. The shuttle bus honked, warning him that it was about to leave. Raul waved his replacement aside for a moment, then embraced his fiancée. “Look, I have—”