The land Matthias’s farm sat on had a few slight elevation changes, but no slopes dramatic enough to support a banked barn. So instead, a suitable hill was going to be made. In effect, a banked hill of dirt would form a large, very gradual ramp up to the second floor of the barn. Such a project would require even more dirt than they’d get from digging the hole for the springhouse, so there would need to be a second excavation later in the week. But today they would just tackle the springhouse excavation.
The TRACE soldiers were all given shovels and other digging implements, and the Amish men marked out the area where the springhouse would go. The new structure wouldn’t have to be built directly on a spring. The cold water from the nearby spring, when developed, could flow into the springhouse through a piece of pipe, or a channel or tunnel formed by the careful laying of smooth rocks.
The Amish elders wanted a hole that was four meters square and two meters deep. And they made sure that the Englischer soldiers took turns with the hard digging. The dirt was scooped into wheelbarrows and carted the seventy meters to the location of the banked barn. The dirt wouldn’t be pushed up against the barn’s concrete and cinderblock foundation until Friday afternoon, to make sure the foundation had enough time to dry and cure before adding any lateral pressure to the new walls.
For the first time since he’d arrived in New Pennsylvania, Jed felt like he was able to immerse himself in farm work to the point that he was able to forget everything else that was going on outside the walls of the AZ. If only for a moment, his mind was completely absorbed in thoughts about the soil. He could breathe in the pure air, and dream of the process of building his own farm—maybe someday with a wife of his own. And for just that beautiful sliver of time, Jed was more than willing to let the Englischers have their own war, and hoped they could just leave him out of it.
Amos Troyer busied himself making sure the Tulsa was fully battle-ready. He and his officers personally toured the Tulsa’s massive platforms and decks, observing as the attack craft and support vehicles were made ready for the coming battle. Amos watched as the ships were being loaded with armaments, supplies, and equipment, and he sat in as the pilots were briefed on their missions. He visited the engineering and maintenance decks and personally interviewed the officers there to make certain that everyone was on the same page.
Just as he’d always been, Amos was a hands-on commander. He was briefed by the team that was implementing the now redesigned Corinth battlefield intelligence system, and he even observed as a few of the remaining intelligence officers had their Corinth chips flash-updated in the medical bays. Transport had hacked the Corinth chips once before, and he hoped now that the vulnerability issues had been fixed.
Amos didn’t know what event or proximate cause would act as the trigger for the next phase of the war. But while the council and the people waited and watched, he was preparing his force to invade the area beyond the Great Shelf—to find Transport’s forces and ships, and destroy them.
That night, Jed didn’t even get online. He was so exhausted from the digging, and so pleased with the day’s work, that he never even logged on to see if he had any messages from his brother. Had he gotten online—and had he, perhaps, hacked into Transport’s communications from out beyond the Shelf—he might have noticed some anomalies. There was some interesting chatter that might have indicated to him that something interesting was taking place out west. All of TRACE’s analysts missed it, but maybe Jed wouldn’t have. It could have been that with Jed’s unique perspective, and his willingness to question everything, he would have noticed something: some track, or trail, or telltale clue that an amassing armada must, inevitably, leave behind.
Because out beyond the Shelf, Transport’s forces were gathering. Hundreds of attack airships were being prepared, and a thousand unmarked white orbs—unmanned Transport drones, manufactured in the old world and relayed to New Pennsylvania through a makeshift portal hidden in a large factory in a mostly unpopulated city—were receiving their final memory updates from Transport command.
It’s possible that Jed would have missed all the signs. But it’s also possible that had he taken a look, he might have seen something that no one else did. And maybe he would have given his brother—and the whole world—another twenty-four hours to act. But such surmisings aren’t usually profitable. Who can say what might have happened in any situation?
What matters is what did happen.
And what did happen is, Jed didn’t get online. He was still an Amish man after all, and averse to getting involved in conflict. So Jed didn’t notice the signs of a pending Transport counteroffensive for another full day. And in that full day, while Jed slept and woke and worked and loved, the forces in the world around him rushed headlong toward an inevitable, and violent, climax.
(35
THE WASP
THURSDAY
On Thursday, after the milking and a large breakfast, the TRACE squad joined a dozen Amish men who showed up to move even more dirt. The concrete and cinderblock foundation walls they’d constructed a few days earlier were now sturdy enough to hold up against the strain. so half of the men were assigned to start forming the long, gradual ramp that would lead to the second floor of the barn. The soldiers, and the other half of the Amish men, would be digging a hole for a small stock pond.
First, the sod was cut from the whole area of the future pond, and the grassy turf was carefully laid aside. This grass would eventually be placed on the embankment they’d be building that day. After the sod was cut, a half dozen wheelbarrows trucked dirt back and forth from the site of the new pond to the barn. The barn needed the dirt, and the farm needed the pond, in order to trap and hold more surface moisture for the watering of animals. Digging, then, was on tap for the second straight day.
On this Thursday, Dawn and Jed worked together. The women didn’t usually join the men in their building chores, but Dawn insisted that she wanted to help, and no one was willing to tell her no. And if the truth be told, she wanted to spend some time with Jed as well. So she put her muscles to work and dug out big shovelfuls of deep, black soil, dumping them into the wheelbarrow; and when it was so full that she was afraid it might tip over, Jed would push the load up the low hill to the foundation of the new barn, where men were placing the soil, spreading it, and tamping it down to make the bank.
This process gave the two of them a lot of time to talk, because between runs, Jed would flop down on the grass while Dawn was digging (she got to rest while he was hauling).
“Do you want to swap jobs?” Jed asked.
“Nah, I’m all right,” Dawn said. “Besides, I have the easy job.”
“Digging’s not easy!” Jed said. “And I have the blisters from yesterday to prove it!”
“That’s why you should wear gloves,” Dawn said with a smile, and held up a gloved hand. “You may be the strongest one in this relationship, but I think I’m the smartest.” She winked at Jed.
“Oh, I don’t doubt that one single bit,” Jed said, nodding his head.
Dawn went back to digging, and Jed reached up and smoothed out a pile in the wheelbarrow that was looking like it might make the thing lean too much to one side. “Relationship, huh?” he said.