“Break’s over in fifteen minutes,” said Technical Crewman Sitte over Ashley’s work band. She was easy to work for, an issyrian who preferred to remain in the form of a human woman. Ashley had half a day with her crew of workers, or knuckle draggers as they had come to be called. They were moving components and high tolerance metal beams from the tall pile of salvage from the command ship they’d captured, the Enforcer 1109.
The pieces were too small for the loader suits to bother with, but too big for most people outside of a vacsuit with muscle augmentation to budge. The work detail was all part of the Samson crew’s effort to mix in. The worst thing was, they all had to keep their suits sealed, showing no identifying features. Even though Ashley knew the air would be rich with the fragrances of grease, cheap burnt fuel, and garbage, she wanted nothing more than to retract her head piece and experience the open air.
The sunlight gleaming down between the swiftly moving air traffic overhead made that freedom even more enticing. Stephanie and Captain Valance had a plan, however, and Ashley wouldn’t be the first to violate it. Hiding in plain sight had kept them safe from bounty hunters for weeks. There had been several breaches in their perimeter by people who snuck in to steal what they could carry, or to bag themselves a Samson crewmember.
Ashley looked through the crack between the three metre by three metre storage crates she hid behind. The landing site Ayan had bargained for weeks before had become a city. Over two thousand people from the Triton remained, including most of the slaves they rescued. Staying in the Triton settlement was safer than wandering out into the dangerous shanty port. After being there for a few weeks, Ashley started hearing about other safe havens, however. Drifton was rough, a gutter by most standards, but she knew she could find work there, possibly get on with another crew, and it was a social hub. That was the kind of place where she could endear herself to people who would want her for themselves, new protectors.
The thought of leaving the Triton crew made her heart ache, but as time drew on and she continued to fail at contacting the Trition’s main computer, it became more evident that her crime against them would get her kicked from the crew. As soon as they find out I’ve been holding master control codes without telling them for weeks, they’ll just put me off. Don’t blame them though, I should have told Captain right away, but there’s no knowing where Larry is. If he found out I blabbed about him and Citadel, he’d kill me in my sleep.
Ashley used her head’s up display as an interface, gesturing with glances until she managed to open a secure channel to the Triton through the General Solar System Network. It was something she tried to do several times a day. She waited for the ship to reply.
SPECIFIED RECIPIENT IS UNAVAILABLE, came the reply she had grown accustomed to. Ashley tried Larry.
CREWMEMBER IS OUT OF RANGE, replied Crewcast after searching for several seconds.
Ashley sighed and shook her head. Just as she was about to creep out from behind the crates, something in the corner of her eye drew her attention. A glance through the crack revealed someone in a black vacsuit looking straight at her. Without thinking she jerked to the side, hiding completely behind one of the storage blocks. Well, that’s not suspicious at all, Ashley scolded herself.
She walked out of the narrow lane between the crates, struggling with the exit because her vacsuit had been inflated a little in some places to disguise her body shape, but managed to squeak out without looking too ridiculous. She looked around and didn’t see Jason. A hand on her shoulder made her jump.
“It’s me, Steph,” the unmarked worker said. They were all in bright green suits. “You okay?”
“Fine. Well, really sore, but okay,” Ashley said, relaxing a little. “Just hard to tell who’s who with all of us dressed the same.”
“I know, but I don’t mind the work. This ‘different job every day’ stuff is clearing my head and getting me back in shape,” Stephanie replied. “What hurts? Anything serious?”
“Everything hurts,” Ashley said, stretching. “I thought the muscles in the suit were s’posed to take care of all the work. I didn’t think this would be such a workout.”
They started walking down a street that ran between five shipping containers that had become home to hundreds. Workers dressed in green were a common sight, and Triton security forces in black patrolled leisurely, holding rifles across their chests. Other numerous workers in grey or blue made their way around carrying tools and chatting in groups. Along the roadside, people on their days off and civilians went about their business taking care of children, chatting their time away, or playing games some of the former slaves brought with them. Dominos and dice were favourites.
“Welcome to the world of the labour ranks,” Stephanie said. “Just moving those muscles of yours is enough to get you back into shape. Did you hear that Ayan started drilling with Oz and his troops?”
“No, why would she have to do that?” Ashley asked.
“I think she’s trying to slim down the hard way and training muscle memory,” Stephanie said. “Rumour is that that new body of hers has never jogged or marched in its life, so she’s trying to get it back up to her standards.”
“That’s gotta suck,” Ashley said.
“Sure, but I’d pay real GC to see her sweat for a while,” Stephanie chuckled. “I tried to catch them training outside the main hangar yesterday but just missed them.”
“Do you miss it?” Ashley asked.
“What?”
“The military stuff, training, security and being in charge.”
“In the mood for poking at open wounds today?” Stephanie asked.
“Ohmigosh, I’m sorry. I was just askin’, I mean, I miss flying around, I thought-“
“I’m just buggin’ ya,” Stephanie said, resting a calming hand on Ashley’s arm. “Are you really okay? You seem really high strung.”
“It’s just,” Ashley scrambled for the best, easiest, most believable excuse, glad that Stephanie couldn’t scan her for signs of deceit. “Since we left the Triton things have been,” she hesitated, “wrong.”
“We’ll get back up,” Stephanie said. “Don’t worry. Just take this duty rotation as time to think and learn about what’s going into that,” she said, gesturing towards the hangar doors ahead.
They came through the side door of the main hangar. Ashley looked upon the Samson, where it rested in scaffolding. The frame of the upper hull was being rebuilt while crewmembers on the rest of the hull were getting it ready for its new skin. Uninsulated cables were being anchored to the finished frame down the length of the ship, while other crewmen welded plates of activated ergranian steel intermittently across the ship’s exterior.
Two gutted ships brought down from the Enforcer 1109 were piled just outside the hangar. They had become the source of so many of their components since they were flown down, including new rotary engines for the Samson. They lay at the rear of the older ship, waiting to be lifted into place and wired in. Ground crews were pairing them up, welding them together with heavy bars and wiring them up so the power of two captured ships would become half the thrust available to the Samson.
“Captain says they’re a week away from her first flight,” Stephanie said.
“He said that last week,” Ashley sighed.
“This time Laura and Frost are saying it too,” Stephanie replied. “With all this manpower, I think they’re right. She’s going to be better than ever.”
“I hope I get to fly her,” Ashley said.
“Who else would?” Stephanie asked, laughing lightly.
“Break’s over,” announced their boss for the day.