by AJ Reissig
Chapter Nine
McBride, hair falling out of its ponytail, stood and stretched her back. Situated midway between the crash site and what was to be the community’s industrial area, she and others were working to erect fencing for the livestock. Known as wattle fences, the design called for posts the diameter of a man’s arm and two meters in length to be driven in the ground to a depth of seventy-five centimeters. The posts were spaced half a meter apart. After sinking the posts, long, slender staves were woven back and forth through the posts, resulting in a fence that resembled a woven basket.
A trio of colonists had designed the layout of the livestock pens, and still another came up with the idea of the wattle fencing. But that was the easy part; building was another matter. Although simple in design, the scale of this project was a huge undertaking. Even with a crew of over two hundred, progress was slow, in no small part due to a workforce unused to physical labor.
McBride grabbed her hatchet and picked up another oaken post before wincing in pain. She gazed down at her blistered and cut hands, the result of a morning of handling rough bark with soft hands. A grunt rumbled deep in her throat as she tightened her grip on the hatchet and continued her work.
This would be miserable work if the weather were hot, she thought. As it were, the physical labor had been intense enough for her to strip off her uniform tunic. She now wore a black tank top along with uniform trousers, which was both cooler and allowed for a greater freedom of movement.
“Need a drink, Major McBride?”
Jessica Frey, the colonist who came up with the idea for the fences, handed McBride a water bottle. McBride nodded and eagerly swished down the cold liquid.
“You’re not a Coalition soldier. Call me Dara,” McBride said after gulping down the water.
“OK, Dara,” Frey replied. In a near whisper she continued. “Tomorrow, you may want to wear a different kind of shirt. A couple of those guys putting in the fence posts are staring down your shirt every time you lean over.”
McBride looked toward the young men pounding oaken posts into the ground and a snicker slid across her jaw. “If it keeps them motivated to work, they can look all they want.”
Both she and Frey laughed.
One of the colonists approached from the forest and dropped an armload of posts in front of McBride. Without a word, he turned and walked away.
“Wait a minute,” McBride called. She picked up a post triple the diameter of the others. “See this; way to large. It’ll be a nightmare for the post drivers. Remember, no larger than you arm, no smaller than your wrist.
The colonist, a wiry man in his twenties, spun around and crossed his arms over his chest. “This is bullshit.”
“What’s the problem?” McBride asked.
“All of this building fences and shit. I’m done with it.”
“No. You’ll continue working if you want to eat. Every person puts in a full day unless they have a medical condition.”
“Look at this bullshit!” He thrust out his hands, revealing blisters and cuts far worse than McBride’s. “I’m a fucking sales rep, not a farmer!”
“Not anymore,” McBride answered dryly. “Whatever you were in the past is now history. I’m no longer the executive officer of a coalition cruiser. We’re all farmers and builders now. Get back to work.”
Rage boiled in the man’s face. He made a fist and took a swing at McBride. Exhaustion slowed both his speed and aim, and McBride dodged the blow with a single backward step. Her face flamed. Still holding the oversized post, she charged at the man, knocking him down to his backside. She threw the log aside, crossed her arms, and looked down at the lean youth through narrowed eyes.
“You don’t want to work? Fine. Starve for all I care. But nobody takes a shot at me.”
McBride stepped back and exhaled a long breath. As the fear-struck laborer stood, onlookers snickered. He swallowed hard and looked at his feet as he brushed himself off.
“Get out of here,” McBride said with a snarl. “Find another crew. I don’t want to see your fucking face around here for the rest of the day.
Wide-eyed, the colonist hurried away without a word.
“Come on everyone,” McBride called out. “We’ve got work to do.”
Work had barely resumed when McBride heard her name called. Now what, she thought. How the hell am I going to get this thing done with all of these interruptions?
From the crash site came an older woman wearing baggy brown clothing. Her gait was quick, and the fisted hands at her side swung like a pendulum as she walked.
“Major McBride, my name is Hope Liberty and I just heard that Colonel Nash has launched a military expedition against a native village.”
McBride rubbed together her raw hands as she gazed at Liberty through tensed eyes. She took a deep breath and slowly shook her head side to side.
“You were misinformed, Miss Liberty. The Colonel went to the village to offer trade and friendship.”
“Several of your soldiers were armed.”
“Since this is unknown land, it is standard procedure for an armed escort, no matter what the purpose of the mission.”
“We are the dangerous ones here,” Liberty retorted. “Have you seen anyone attacked? No! But since we have been here, we have already killed the native wildlife, slashed down forests, and are making plans to dam the river. And what—”
“Stop right there,” McBride barked as she thrust out her hand. “There was nothing native about those pigs we caught; they’re from Earth. God knows how they got here. And in case you haven’t noticed, this forest is huge and our needs will barely make a dent in it. As far as the river—”
“Excuses! Always with the military! They take what they want with no regard for the impact to the environment or to native cultures. Do you have any idea what will happen to the natives after contact with the Colonel?”
“Hopefully a deal that is mutually beneficial.” McBride put her hands on her hips. A scowl grew across her reddening face and beads of sweat dripped from her forehead.
“No! We will destroy their culture, just as the Western European culture always has. The natives will end up just like the American Indians; a broken people, landless, dependent on us for their every need.”
“Then what the hell do you suggest?”
“We need to tread lightly on the land. Don’t cut down its trees, don’t slaughter its wildlife, and don’t exploit other cultures.”
“I don’t know what planet you’re on, but nobody has suggested exploiting anyone or cutting down trees we don’t need. You want to live like a prehistoric nomad? Be my guest. Leave. But don’t come to me with this bullshit; I’ve got too much work to do.”
McBride leaned over, picked up her hatchet, and continued to sharpen points on posts. Tears began to stream down Liberty’s cheeks and she drew closer to McBride.
“How can you be so blind! Don’t you see the crash was a gift? It is our opportunity to break free from what the people back home did. No more computerized this and mechanized that. We can learn—”
“I have had enough!” McBride threw down her tools and leaped to her feet. She grabbed a handful of fabric at Liberty’s shoulder and dragged her away from the worksite. “I have no tolerance for this kind of bullshit. Get out of here!”
McBride shoved Liberty in the direction of the river. As she stumbled to the ground, there was a choir of whistles and laughs from observing work crew. Liberty pulled herself to her feet, took a few steps toward the river, then turned and shouted at McBride.
“You think I’m the only one who feels this way? There are others just like me!”
“You are a sad, sad little woman,” McBride said coldly with a shake of the head. “If there are others, you can collect up your little band of misfits and go live in a fucking cave. Don’t ever come around me again.”
McBride returned to the work site amidst clapping and chuckling colonists. She scanned the beaming faces and fought to control her qu
ivering lip. She grabbed the hatchet and got back to work without a word. Frey approached and put her hand on McBride’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry you had to see me lose my temper,” McBride said without looking up. “I’m that stereotypical sexy, red-haired Irish girl who blows her stack at the slightest provocation. Something I’ve had to battle with all my life.”
Frey shook her head. “Both she and that young man got what they deserved. You weren’t being unreasonable.”
“The Colonel would have been more diplomatic.”
“I doubt Liberty’s mother could talk sense into her.”
“Thanks, but—” McBride was cut off by the chimes of her comstrap. She raised her wrist toward her faced and tapped the device. “McBride here, Colonel.”
The comstrap hissed to life with an muffled version of Nash’s voice. “Major, I have made arrangements for a trade of sorts between us and the villagers. However, they need protection from a band of marauders. Send a ten person security team to this village right away.”
“Understood, Colonel. Do we need to worry about the marauders at the crash site?”
“I don’t know, but make sure every crewman is armed, and from this point forward nobody goes off alone.”
“Consider it done, Colonel.”
“How are things on your end?”
McBride scanned the colonists, now back to work on the fencing detail. “Nothing I can’t handle, sir.”
“Nash out.”
McBride closed communications with the Colonel and reset her comstrap.
“Lieutenant Travis Burton.”
After a moment’s delay, the comstrap’s face lit up. “Lieutenant Burton here, Major.”
“Lieutenant, the Colonel needs a ten man armed security team in the nearby village. Pick your men and move out ASAP.”
“Is the Colonel in trouble, sir?”
“No, but he has promised protection for the village.”
“Understood, Major. I’ll have a team together and on the move within fifteen minutes.”
“Good. McBride out.”
Frey tilted her head to the side. “Trouble?”
“Probably better safe than sorry,” McBride responded. “Let’s get back to work. How about helping me with these posts?”
Frey picked up the hatchet. “Let’s get to it.”
