Cavalier's Gambit -ch 10-

Wayne was rather disturbed.

Bothered.

Worried.

Disquieted.

The contracts were all ones that’d been left up since before he took the government contract. Not one single new contract had been put up.

There was also a sudden flurry on the job board for loading.

Just not the normal way.

From land to space elevator or land to docked ship.

A great deal less was up going the other way around.

Frowning, Wayne really didn’t know what to think of that.

He’d even gone ahead and paid for some connection time and ran some searches. It’d been the first time he’d ever had an active connection here in his home, so he had even been required to pay a setup fee.

Except nothing came up at all.

There was nothing in the news that stood out, nothing that would raise red flags, and there were a number of signs that everything was as it should be.

Events were being hosted, buildings were being set up for construction, and the governing body had all the normal calendar dates set up as they always did.

Even with all that, Wayne still felt unsure.

As if there was something else beneath the surface.

That or his recent brush with death inside of the Hive had left a deeper mark on him than he’d thought it had.

Sighing, Wayne gave up.

He watched the last minute of his paid for time run out, then his service expiring. There was a window that popped up that offered to purchase more time for him at a discounted rate, something he’d already done twice, but he ignored it.

Instead, he decided he might as well go to the guild.

See if there was anyone there and if they had anything to say about the situation.

The parts he’d ordered for Patchwork were also in now. He could go pick it all up and put a true cockpit on his Walker. One that would have a sealed atmosphere and keep him safe from environmental problems like fire.

Then, feeling a bit odd, he threw a message off to Jenny. If she was anywhere on the planet, or within reach of the planetary cell system, it’d be delivered to her.

The internet was a multi-planet wide series of systems, all joined together, that allowed one to reach out to a great many people.

Cellular service was planetside only, or thru systems that translated cell service to internet, and then off world.

Which he didn’t personally pay for, but Jenny might.

Getting up, he decided to head over in Patchwork. It’d save him some time and he could rent a garage to get the work done in. They’d likely have all the tools he’d need, and he wouldn’t have to improvise like he would here in his home garage.

***

The guild had been a bust.

A ghost town, in fact.

Only a single employee had been around at the front, idly solving what looked a lot like some type of crossword puzzle. No one else had been around in any capacity.

Pilot, contract requester, employee, or otherwise.

If anything, Wayne’s sense of unease had only increased. Ratcheting his feeling of things being wrong up by several degrees.

From there, he’d rented a garage, outfitted Patchwork, then had on a spur of the moment, paid to have it repainted.

Yuna and the rest of his arsenal he stowed into the cargo pod on the back of Patchwork. Then painted it to match what a cargo loader’s counter-balance weight would look like.

There were a number of loader pilots who used their own Walkers, so it wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary. Rather than renting a loader, Wayne instead started contracting himself out with Patchwork to do the loading work.

While it wasn’t great, it was money earned and ever increasing his capital.

To Wayne, a day without work was a day that he was losing money.

Though his body disagreed.

Loudly.

Groaning, Wayne bent over at the waist in his cockpit.

His back was once again telling him that he was an idiot and deserved to be punished. To be given a good amount of pain to deal with for not listening to his body’s complaints several days ago that he’d pulled something.

“Good work,” stated the foreman for the job. “Thanks for subbing in as the load master. That really saved me some time.”

“Yeah, no worries. Happy for the pay,” Wayne replied. “Hit me up if you need a load master or a loader, either way. Gotta work.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that. But if I’m being honest with you, that was our last contract,” the foreman admitted. Looking up from his clipboard, most of his face was covered by a rebreather. His eyes also had safety goggles on and a hard hat.

He might as well have been an automaton for how he looked. The only part of him that skin was visible on was his cheeks between the goggles and the rebreather.

More so given the way the words he’d said made Wayne feel.

“Oh?” he tried, his voice feeling strained in his ears.

“Yeah. That’s the last contract for a bit. We’re all being stuck in a furlough,” the man said with a shake of his head. “Happens every now and then. Often when there’s a strike, blockade, or some noble shit has decided they wanted to throw a temper tantrum.

“No idea what’s the cause this time. Probably blow over in a month or three. I literally have a bank account that I’ve put money into just for these frelking things.

“Damn spishts up there thinking that the only people that matter aren’t planetside. Making everything wrong for everyone down here.”

Wayne didn’t think the man was right.

Once more he had the feeling that things were wrong.

“Anyways, thanks. Take care now,” the foreman said and began walking away. He waved a hand over his shoulder as he went.

Leaving Wayne by himself to contemplate what to do next.

Letting out a slow breath, Wayne shook his head, then left the loading bay. Stepping out into the mid-day light, Wayne looked up to the sky.

Several ships were flying slowly away or to the depot. Low orbit ships that moved things about the planet short distances that didn’t require anything complex, but also had priority.

Such shipping was costly.

Wayne turned his head and looked to the space elevator.

A white box appeared for it, and he sighed.

His breath caught midway, and he felt his heart stumble awkwardly to one side.

At the top of the space elevator, beyond it, there were several white boxes appearing. They were little better than specs in the sky, but he could see them.

Given that, that meant they were massive.

Those white boxes were unfurling and giving Wayne all the proof he needed that something wasn’t right.

Despite the distance, the fact that they were but specks to him, and that to everyone down here they’d look no different than there being a number of ships loading or unloading, he knew it was a fleet.

One of the fleets that operated out of the system as part of the house of Mirkil.

They wouldn’t be here unless they were attacking or defending.

Why the hell would the fleet be here?

His thought was an idle one as he stared upward.

Then a new white box unfolded and appeared. It didn’t populate itself very quickly. As if whatever information his implant was getting, how he had no idea, was having difficulty.

Then it suddenly was populated.

A transport ship for people.

Then three more suddenly appeared.

Fuck.

Okay. They’re getting people off.

But who’s doing it? The government?

Are they getting their people off?

Why?

Is there more to that riot than I thought? Is… is the planet going into a lockdown?

I don’t think I want to be here during a lockdown.

What… do I do then?

I could probably book passage off, but I couldn’t afford to bring Patchwork with me.

Stowing away with Patchwork is just out of the question because I’d be executed once they found me. There’s no reason to even think that they wouldn’t find me either.

A question of when, not if.

Chewing at his lip, Wayne really didn’t quite know how to manage it.

He knew he wanted to get off the planet, and as soon as possible, but not how to make that happen.

In the instant that he’d made that choice Wayne had given up on his home, his belongings here, and everything about the planet.

An ugly thought bubbled up in the back of his mind.

Stowing away, though accidentally. As if it were completely a coincidence.

He knew there were ways to make it happen if he were crafty about it.

To take a loading contract and then get himself stuck in the loading bay on the last parcel. Maybe do something that’d cause Patchwork to get caught.

There was a sudden though distant flash of light above him. No bigger than his pinky fingertip

One of the white boxes faded away afterward.

Then there were two more flashes.

Blinking, Wayne stared as the boxes faded away.

New boxes began appearing. Ones that were listed as “Blood of Dashi” with various ship designations.

“Frelk me,” Wayne whispered as he realized what’d happened. “It’s the Bloods.”

The white flashes were the transport ships being blasted out of the sky.

It was either an invasion or a battle.

Likely for Faesin-III itself.

Which meant Wayne really didn’t want to be on Faesin-III, because the planet was probably going to be devastated in the fighting.

That and Blood didn’t accept citizens of the core-systems easily. A warrior society that would happily let Wayne’s house and land go to whoever could kill him first.

Okay… ah… all my cash is in the Mirkil credit-union. I can get it anywhere in the union.

There’s nothing back home other than keepsakes and-and-ah… and stuff I can replace.

Stuff that I can get back.

As much as I don’t want to lose my parents’ stuff, they’d rather me not die here.

Right.

Get off the planet.

I’m likely the first to know and… and… the closest to the most likely place to get off planet. So let’s figure out who’s leaving right now, and who’s most likely to get off planet.

Wayne turned and began rapidly scanning the warehouses and loading bays.

People were moving about fairly normally, though there were definitely those who were scrambling as well.

Realizing his best chance was actually the foreman he’d just spoken with, Wayne turned around and went back inside.

“Mr. Chavy!” Wayne shouted. “Mr. Chavy! I need to talk to you right away!”

“Huh?” called a voice from the back of the warehouse.

Wayne oriented on the voice and started moving that way quickly.

“Mr. Chavy, there’s an invasion going on right now. From the Blood of Dashi. Pretty sure that furlough of yours isn’t a furlough but this shit.

“Let’s get on the ship and get the hell out of here, right now,” Wayne suggested. “I’ll handle the manifest, loading, unloading, and loads. All of that shit. Don’t even have to pay me, just get me off this rock.

“You just get the pilot for it and get us the hell gone. That’d be best. Yeah?”

Reaching Mr. Chavy, Wayne saw the man was staring at a tablet in his hands. His eyes were wide behind the goggles. Then he looked up to Wayne.

“Fuck it. Get in the bay and make sure it’s all strapped down. It’s all still loose. Pilot is an auto model, so we’re good to go,” Mr. Chavy growled out and then rushed off toward the inter-space shipping barge’s pilot doors. “We’ll get to my next port and go from there.”

Wayne nodded, grateful. This was likely the best opportunity to get out of here while the Mirkil fleet was still in the sky. By tomorrow, there was the distinct possibility they wouldn’t be here anymore.

Given that they’d been attempting to evacuate, he was betting on them not defending the planet conclusively. They would likely let it be captured, then launch a counter-offensive instead.

Wayne would apparently be leaving with everything currently strapped to Patchwork and little else.

Turning, Wayne ran back to the loading bay and went straight into the ship.

Not waiting or hesitating, he snatched up the straps from the side of the cargo bay. Holding it in his right fist, he piloted his Walker over to the other side of the bay.

He wasn’t going to have much time to make this work.

A boat like this only took three minutes to warm up.

He’d have to go for something that’d give him a maximum hold-down with minimal effort. He could adjust and change as he went.

Slamming the hook of the strap into a pulley, he yanked it tight. He’d pulled it all the way across at an angle. From bottom to top.

Snatching up another strap at the bottom, Wayne rushed back to the other side. Slatting that hook into the top slot again, he jerked it tight.

He didn’t think he had much time, but he wasn’t going to stop now. He’d be here in the bay, which meant anything loose could easily become a missile and crush him.

Taking another strap in hand, Wayne ran back to the other side and put it in the middle bracket, then repeated it going back the other way.

As he worked, he heard the engines whining and powering up.

The cargo bay door suddenly slammed shut while Wayne picked up another strap. He quickly tried to loop it through all the loading hoops on the boxes he could find.

Lurching to the side, then feeling the G’s push him down in his cockpit, he could feel the ship launching.

Given the way it’d moved, it felt like the autopilot had gassed the engine, partially stalled it on purpose, then shot straight up.

With a grunt, Wayne got the strap stuck through some more boxes, then clanked it into place in the hook. He pulled the strap once, then struggled to move over to an anchor-bay that held Load-Walkers.

One of the reasons he’d been hired for the job was the one assigned to the ship had been broken. Having his own Walker and taking loading contracts had been the ticket to the job.

Stumbling ahead, Wayne made it to the anchor and flung himself into it.

Gripping the struts, he wished he had a better haptic feedback for Patchwork’s hands. He only had a vague feeling that he was clenched into the steel, but no idea if it was a light hold or heavy enough to strain the metal.

Not turning around, he instead engaged the anchor and pushed himself face forward against the wall.

If something did come his way, it could at least strike his cargo-pod.

He could always buy new weapons, his life, and the cockpit really, were far more sensitive and expensive.

Fucking glad I got the cockpit sealed after all. If I end up in space, I’ve got a little bit of time to hope for a pickup.

Though… huh… who the hell would want to pick me up in this?

Wayne could feel the ship banking in a way that made the blood rush out of hishead and right into his legs.

He wanted to curse, say something, or respond, but instead, he blacked out.

Slowly the world came back to him, though he felt like his thoughts were wild.

Uncorralled and uncontrollable.

Confused and frittering about randomly.

Only to be submerged into nothing as soon as they started to congeal.

Vaguely, he realized that the autopilot was dodging things. Putting the ship in extreme G’s that only it could handle to get away.

The thought was obliterated in another high G maneuver that left Wayne feeling a lot like a puddle of human goo at the bottom of his cockpit.

A groan escaped his lips even as it felt like his guts were pooling in his feet.

The sensation went on and on.

Maneuver after maneuver, with Wayne feeling sickened and constantly wondering what was going on.

After a time that felt almost infinite, with only brief pauses in between where he felt human, Wayne came back to himself.

Though it was slow.

Slow and sickening.

His head was pounding, his heart beat oddly, and his body was actually trembling. Nothing felt right, but he didn’t miss the fact that there was a weightlessness to his body as well.

They’d managed to break orbit and beat out whatever the hell was going on around the planet. They’d escaped Faesin-III and were somewhere in the inner-space of the house of Mirkil.

“Hey,” moaned Wayne. “How we doin’ Mr. Chavy?”

There was no response.

He wasn’t sure that the communication line was even open, so that wasn’t exactly a surprise. There was the distinct possibility the coms line was closed and Mr. Chavy couldn’t hear him anyways.

Getting ahold of his thoughts, Wayne put his feet to the ground, then turned around slowly.

There was definitely a lack of resistance to his movements. His bulk and the weight of the Walker didn’t matter anymore.

Reaching out, he toggled on one of the few systems he’d had installed into Patchwork.

Or more accurately, Wayne had connected the wires since Patchwork had come with the system.

With a whine, the feet of the Walker magnetized and pressed tight to the deck-plates. So long as one foot remained on the ground, the other would turn off the electro-magnets holding it down when attempting to lift it.

Orienting himself on the com panel, Wayne began making his way over that way. He noted as he passed that the load had all been secured enough that it didn’t shoot around the bay wildly, though most had lifted up from their original positions.

A number of them looked like they’d strained against the straps he’d put on at some point, given the slack they held.

Reaching the com panel, Wayne hesitated. He didn’t want to pop his cockpit seal just in case the bay wasn’t pressurized. It most certainly wasn’t heated, so it’d likely be pretty cold if there wasn’t enough insulation in the hull.

Given it was probably a no-frills model, he’d bet on it being quite cold already.

Reaching the panel, Wayne mentally controlled a single finger and guided it up to carefully push down on the com panel’s transmit button.

Patchwork’s unfeeling and quite large digit crushed it.

The electrical component of the panel shorted out, the lights winked out, and the broken corner floated away.

“Fuck,” hissed Wayne, then looked to the door to the main cabin of the ship. That’d be his only way to talk to Mr. Chavy unless the man reached out to him first.

Even then, he wouldn’t be able to respond.

Then the whole ship jolted to one side again.

Which, since they were in space, was probably a really bad thing.