by Mason, Jolie
She smiled up at him. “A fairy wood. Gram used to tell me stories of the fairy wood and a girl who sang like one of the fairies. One of the fairies grew jealous and tried to chase her from the wood. But, instead, she sat on a large log as it grew dark. And she was scared, so she sang. And her beautiful song drew all the creatures of the wood so she wasn't alone.”
He sat a moment, thinking. “Unless she gets rescued, that's a dark, dark story.” Danny laughed, pressing her forehead into the fabric of his coveralls. “I'm grimy. Let me get cleaned up and check on the other two, and we'll make something to eat. I need coffee.”
He unfolded, first from Danny and then from the wall. She'd never laughed like that before today, or sought out affection. Or even cried. Maybe, she'd just needed to feel some of the darkness she'd been hiding from.
They hadn't really met in that hospital, but on the Carry Bell. Aiden had been too sick, most of them were, to ever see the other patients in the clinic. Danny was an unknown, even if they'd been on the same hall. Gods knew, what she experienced there and before it.
***#***
Life on the station had a kind of rhythm to it as Aiden worked and showered and slept. He enrolled the others in remote learning, and taught himself to reprogram a maintenance drone in less than a day.
Gurley's booming voice pushed through the noises of the shop to capture Aiden's attention as he closed up the drone. Since it was a station drone, he could send it on it's way as soon as he closed the order and sent the bill. He walked out to the front terminal to do just that. A group of uniformed men in orange flight suits stood around the front counter with Gurley. “Can't believe you're actually coming back out to the station to operate. Salt always swore he never would be back here again,” he roared.
“Salt isn't coming. He's back at HQ. About that supply contract...”
“I have a standard contract ready. I'll send it on over to Salt, and you can tell him welcome back from me.”
“He's not here, Gurley.”
Gurley almost plowed Aiden over as he slipped through the door. “Aiden! Have you met the Lancers yet?” He gestured to the three men standing around smiling and laughing. “Best mech company in three galaxies.”
“Mercenaries?”
He nodded once. “In my younger days, I was their chief mechanic. It was one hell of a life.” He shook his head as if to clear away the memories like cobwebs. “This is the kid, boys. Better get that contract.”
Aiden tapped the console once Gurley left to handle his paperwork. He tapped out the bill, selected the items repaired, and submitted the bill. Then, walked back in the shop to call up the drone which shot to a hover position in a second, he brushed a hand over the sensor to activate it, and commanded, “Go home”.
To double check his repairs, he followed the drone out of the shop and watched its' steady, even progress through the shop, around obstacles, out the front door and into the crowd. By the time, it maneuvered over the counter, he was satisfied the repair had worked, but he kept an eye on it till it passed the security kiosk on main promenade.
The tallest of the mechpilots watched the whole process. Aiden felt his attention, and got the feeling these guys didn't miss much. “You fix drones a lot kid?”
“No, only been here about three weeks. The drone guy broke his hand.”
Aiden stopped to look out into the shop through the faux glass window. “Mercenaries are moving to Havoc, huh?”
The man leaned against the counter. Aiden had a feeling he was being sized up for something. He, then, had the fleeting worry, like he always did, that somehow they knew he was an asset to be returned for bounty. Of course, why would a mech unit want bounty. They fought battles for pay, but you never really knew.
“I hate to filch a good man from a friend, but we need mechanic recruits, desperately. We're here setting up the forward operating base on Havoc. Captain Warrant, 47th Lancers.” He put his hand out.
“I don't know if I'd be good enough to work on battlemechs.” Aiden said as he took the hand.
“We have a significant amount of on the job training.”
The shorter of the three men snorted. “What he means is we get blown up a lot. You can practice.”
Aiden smiled at the joke. These men reminded him of Emery Charles a little, and he loved working on gyro systems. The smaller mechs that ran on wheeled systems, like tractors of old, those were challenging. They had some really mag specs. These men had his attention. He would always be, first and foremost, a gearhead.
“How much do you generally pay beginners?”
The tall pilot grinned broadly. “Now, you're talking, son. How much is Gurley paying you? I can beat that.”
Aiden raised an eyebrow. “Well, that settles that then. Where do I apply?”
“You just did. Welcome aboard.”
He said, “Not to be a nuisance, but is that it?”
He gestured to the office where Gurley had disappeared. “We were told to stop by and meet you. If you're talented enough that the old man recommends you, you pass.”
He stood there a little amazed, then pointed at the door. “Gurley?”
“Yeah, you're a recruit. We don't get a comm from Gurley that often, and I gotta say this is the first time he's ever sent a mechanic. You have to have something. Righteous will find out what that is.”
“Righteous?”
“He's the mechanic running our dock. You'll love him. He's tough, but fair.” He looked behind him smiling. “Isn't that right, Jackson?”
“He's an ass. Don't lie to the kid. Good mechanic, but he's a certified lantok.”
“I got a family. This job is on station, right?”
This got the man's attention, and his smile broke a little, just around the edges, as his voice turned somber. “Yeah, we're on station for the war. If you work out, you can bring your family with you to Fillia. That's where we have our base.”
He nodded at the mechpilots. “All right then. Where do I go?”
“Say goodbye to Gurley. We'll show you.”
***#***
The men sauntered before Aiden with the ease of the truly confident. It wasn't cockiness, but it was damn close. The massive hangar teemed with activity. Cargo being unloaded and loaded and new shuttles emerging from the tube that led from the cold, dark of space into the bright light of the Lancer's operations. Fighters lined the far end of the hangar. He stared at them. They were beautiful; each the same, a white body and gold nose.
Men and women in orange jumpsuits scurried through the bays carrying tools, driving maintenance drones along, or just shouting orders. The one they'd called Jackson stood next to him a moment later.
“Well, kid. Home, Sweet, home.”
“How does all this work?”
“You mean, what do we do?” At Aiden's nod, Jackson pointed to one large troop carrier that took up about a quarter of the space. “That's us, right there. We have air support, obviously, but that ship right there is the heart of the lancers. Her name's Redemption. Salt has a bit of a religiosity to him.”
“You fix the mechs out here, we load em in there, and land on whatever planet we've been paid to blow to hell.”
“When you put it that way, it sounds terrible?”
Jackson laughed with a gritty edge, like he didn't do it often. “It does, and it can be. Still, as I said, Salt is a noble bastard. He won't help a criminal, won't help a slaver. No need to worry about your soul. It'll be fine.”
“The guy back there, Clodhopper. What's with all the names?”
“We go by our comm handles so much it's easier to use those. He's a farmer by birth, born on a Ag planet. But, he got the name because of this thing here.” He stabbed his pointer through the air at the area just ahead. “Come see this beauty.”
He led Aiden through masses of moving people, leaving him behind to catch up some. There was another large hangar, he could see now, through a large frame door.
When he saw the inside, he suddenly understood the
system here. This was the mech repair hangar. The machines towered in bays lined up along the wall. Some were seven feet and some were ten, but they were all vaguely shaped as men would be, but not exactly. The cockpits, the shapes, the basic design of each was somewhat different.
The pilots would suit up in them here and march them down the large runway area coursing down the center of the main chamber straight to the rear entrance of the Redemption where they loaded up in the mech and were dropped into battle.
He couldn't wait to get his hands on one of these, he thought.
“Over here”, Jackson waved from a smaller, more rangy built mech with a white paint job with the name clodhopper in read on the chestplate. It had a lightweight appearance with long, spindly arms on each side and flexible legs positioned for the moment into a bent squat.
“This baby can jump. It's design is meant to take a fall, roll into cover and move fast on a field. Hopper can make it dance. He's jumped off three stories in this thing without scratching the paint.” Moving slowly around the machine, Jackson ran an almost loving hand along the weapon barrel strapped to the machine's shoulder. “Hopper prefers a rail weapon. I like the pulse weapons myself. We each customize our machines, so you'll be working with pilots a lot.”
“This is absolutely,” he couldn't find a word. “Amazing. My god, is that a stealth system underneath?”
He crawled under the mech to the sound of the pilot's laughter as he inspected a beautifully expensive heat sink that basically, and miraculously, would make this huge heat generating bringer of death completely invisible to the enemy by bleeding heat off the engines and weapons. “Holy shit! Look at this! This costs a fortune.”
Jackson stood bracing his elbow on the mech's left arm. “You'll fit in around here just fine, kid.” He snorted. Aiden spent a moment getting a good look at the filtration on the fluid system. He'd have to wipe drool off his lips on a moment by moment basis at this job.
He finally emerged when he heard a woman's voice. Another pilot stood holding a spanner and giving Jackson a serious frown. Aiden suddenly felt like an intruder, but there was nowhere to go. The woman looked to be of an age with the other pilot. Her features were soft and rounded, including a button nose. Her richly browned complexion made him think she had to be from one of the more tropical planets. Long, straight black hair and nearly black eyes with an almond shape to them suggested some island culture somewhere with yellow sun and sandy beaches. Of course, appearance was no indicator of origin really. She just made him think of it.
Jackson rolled his eyes theatrically. “Aiden, this is Dahlia.”
“Is that a real name?” Aiden asked, offering his hand.
“Oh, it's a call sign.” Jackson mocked. “Black Dahlia. She's our death flower, aren't you, Love? Her mech's the yellow one over there.”
Aiden almost checked the hangar deck for blood because the look Dahlia shot Jackson should have killed him. He sought to derail some of the tension with small talk. “So, what's Jackson about?”
Dahlia smiled wickedly for such an innocent looking face. Aiden stepped back a little to get some distance and leaned on the automated counter that could move on a small rail system around the mech.
“It's an old Earth legend, Stonewall is his call sign. Jackson is just what we call him. Beau 'Stonewall Jackson' Lannintide. Named for a general who won battles on stubbornness alone. This one,” She indicated Jackson. “doesn't like to take orders either, and thinks he can face down enemies single-handedly.”
“My methods get results, D.” He smirked.
“Your methods will get you killed. That's the result. It's an act of god you lasted this long.”
The two stared at each other oblivious now that Aiden was even there. Jackson broke first, and he didn't look as cocky after the little staring contest. These two had a tale to tell.
“Come on, kid.” Jackson gestured. “I'll get you your gear, and you can come back in the morning. Righteous will be here then. He's on a run for parts on the other side of the station.”
“Good to meet you, kid.”
Aiden frowned at Dahlia. “That my call sign now? Kid?”
The two pilots chuckled. “ Oh, you'll get a handle. It's just a matter of time. I like this one. He's sassy”, Dahlia said.
“Bit young, even for you, D?”
Her face changed from easy laughter back to the hard look she'd been giving Jackson earlier. “Fuck you, Jackson.”
Aiden looked at Jackson as he watched the woman walk away. He did not have happy face. Oh yeah, there was a story there. “You two don't get along very well.”
He snorted. “Understatement of the century.” He pointed to the empty space where the woman had disappeared around her mech. “That is a hard, hard woman.”
Aiden looked her way wondering what would be the best response to that statement. He said, “I guess she'd have to be.”
Jackson stood for a moment, then turned an inquisitive look his way. “What do ya mean, kid?”
“Well, she's a mercenary. Woman in a man's job and all that. A soldier sure, but she's still a woman in a tough crowd. She's gotta be a tough woman.”
The pilot looked at him with surprise etched across his face with maybe a touch of regret. “Guess she'd have to be at that.” He cuffed Aiden's shoulder. “Let's get you an ID and a suit. I have a feeling you'll be here a good long while, kid.”
Aiden smiled at the floor. “Okay, good. Do me a favor?”
Jackson laughed. “Name it.”
“Find me a handle. Soon.”
Jackson's laugh bellowed, echoing across the hangar. “Will do. This way.”
They walked toward a wall of windows where they kept the remote office of the 47th lancer group. Aiden took one more look around at the hubbub and wondered how he could have gotten this lucky. One minute he's somebody's lab rat, and then he's working on mechs to support a family. Life was turning out to be a crazy ride, and he saw the possibility that it could get crazier. War could do that.
