Fixit Adventures Anthology

by Erik Schubach

  Fixit Adventures Anthology

  Fixit

  Glitch

  Vashon

  Descent

  Sedition

  Plus a bonus short story prequel - Rift Jumpers: Faster Than Light

  By Erik Schubach

  Fixit

  By Erik Schubach

  Copyright © 2016 by Erik Schubach

  Published by Erik Schubach

  P.O. Box 523

  Nine Mile Falls, WA 99026

  Cover Photo © 2016 Bambi-L-Dingman / Dreamstime.com license

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, blog, or broadcast.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  FIRST EDITION

  Chapter 1 – Just Another Day

  I looked at Glitch and the phase coupler he held with his grappler. I grinned and shook my head at the silly orb shaped maintenance pinger who was digging through the 'boneyard' with me, as we scavenged the sprawling junkyard of broken agricultural pingers. “No, you silly boy, we need a J9 phase inverter, not a coupler.” I sighed, what's a girl to do? He peered at me with his ocular lens that was centered in his spherical body.

  His lens looked between me and the coupler in his grappler, and then he trundled a little closer on his rubberized metal tank treads, random power sparking from loose connections between his mobility platform and his body. I'd have to fix that again. He extended his grappler with the part, like a puppy giving a ball to his master.

  I patted his faded yellow dome and then asked patiently, “Glitch, is that an inverter?”

  He looked at it again and then turned his body side to side slightly, mimicking shaking his head.

  I grinned and asked, “Is that a coupler?”

  His body swiveled forward and back on his servo.

  “And what are we looking for?”

  The glitchy pinger looked at the part again and then he visibly drooped as sparks arced from an exposed panel on his side. Now that just wasn't fair, playing with my emotions like that. I sighed and took the coupler from him and said, “I guess it doesn't hurt to have a spare coupler or two hanging around the shop.”

  He seemed to brighten at that, and I patted his dome again. “Okay, now let's find that inverter shall we? I have to get that damn harvester running before breakfast, or we will miss our grain quota for the month. And I have never missed a quota.”

  He pivoted on his tracks and started toward an old Mark 5 combine. I called back to him, “Inverter, Glitch.” He paused and pivoted toward me, looking embarrassed with his lens looking down slightly. Then he sped off like a pinger on a mission.

  I chuckled at him and resumed my own search. Glitch was my oldest friend down here in pinger maintenance. Don't look at me like that. I know my friends are all machines, and you think they don't have personalities? You are wrong. Look at Glitch and tell me that he doesn't understand me beyond the constraints of his programming.

  I opened an access panel on a relic of a Mark 4, while I reasoned that a J8 phase inverter would do in a pinch if I regulated the flow with a capacitor. Parts were getting more and more scarce down here dirtside. I glared up at the majestic city hovering a mile above the surface of Tau Ceti Prime. New Terra. They really needed to replenish our replacement part stockpile.

  One day I would have enough credits squirreled away to pay for a temp to keep the automatons harvesting while I take a couple day vacation up there. I can't imagine the wonders in the floating city, my mother told me that if I worked hard, that one day it might be possible. Not many dirters, as they call us, ever get to see the network of floating cities. They had to be spectacular, with adventures just waiting to happen.

  I shouted, “Ah ha! Glitch, get over here, I have two viable inverters!”

  With a delighted squee, he came speeding over as I patted one of the two drum shaped cylinders about the size of my head. Glitch secured one in his grappler as I took out my multi-tool and went about detaching it. Then we did the same with the second.

  I put them in the carry-sack strapped across the shoulder of Glitch's grappler. Then I stood on his mobility platform, lowered my goggles, and he wrapped his grappler around my waist. “Home Glitch.” Moments later we were rolling across the ground at high speed, sparks trailing us as he let out a long, happy squeal.

  I smiled into the wind generated by our speed as I watched the oceans of crops pass by, the mammoth pingers moving slowly through them, either tending them or harvesting. God, I loved this place.

  A couple minutes later we sped into the huge open bay door to my quonset hut repair shop. Three harvesters and two tenders waited there for me to fix so they could get back out to the fields. A couple maintenance pingers looked up from their tasks as I waved at them as I hopped off of Glitch. Blip waved back, the motion causing him to get off balance and he fell onto his side with a “Blip!” I chuckled at him as he righted himself and went back to work.

  I stepped up to the harvester I was working on and patted it soundly on a huge tire. “Okay, Turk, let's get you back to work shall we?” I stepped under him to the open access panel and the crooked my finger at him and motioned him closer.

  The huge pinger lowered on his suspension, but I couldn't quite reach. I looked up at the visual port he had craned under his massive body to see me, the segmented aperture spiraled in the ocular lens, constricting so his iris focused on me.

  I squinted one eye at the silly guy and crooked my finger again just a little. He pushed his wheels farther out and lowered his suspension almost to the lowest point of his limiters so that I could reach inside.

  I pulled out one of the salvaged inverters, then dug into a tool box at my side and found an old dusty inductor. After a little soldering and then creative mating of the older unit with the J9 assembly, with Glitch handing me the tools I needed, then there was a huge hum of power, and Turk seemed to brighten up.

  I secured the panel and then thumped his belly twice with a grin. “You are good to go, Turk. Remember to come back in three days, though, I need to change your hydraulic fluid, it is looking pretty nasty. Just what are you getting into in the fields?” He rose up on his suspension, and the massive machine seemed to playfully rock side to side to test his servos before engaging the motors on the enormous tires which were almost two stories tall.

  He was careful not to roll over me like he was on tippy toes as he headed back out to the fields. He paused at the door, pivoted back toward me for a second his iris refocusing, then off he went. Now you tell me if that wasn't appreciation. They are more than just machines, my pingers, I dare you to say differently.

  I wiped the grease off my hands with a rag and sighed, just another day in my life. Oh, me? Vega Hasher, but everyone just calls me Fixit. Daughter to Gemma before her passing. I looked at Glitch and said, “There, now let's see what I can scrounge up for breakfast. Why don't you go see if Blip needs any help.” Glitch nodded then sparked off toward his fellow maintenance pinger.

  That... is when the call came in.

  Chapter 2 – The Call

  I was washing my hands in the sink; I'll never get all the dirt and grease off my skin, a haz
ard of the occupation; when the com started ringing. I just stared at the old fashioned handset as I blinked in surprise. I hadn't even known the old archaic thing even worked anymore. Topside had never called me before.

  Sure we communicate all the time. They send orders down with the tumbrils that come for the produce, the air-breathing combustion vehicles which doubled as couriers. I'd send my requests or replies back up with them on an iso-pad.

  I blinked at the device, the old metal bell ringing instead of an electronic buzzer. Mother explained to me that once, that the Primers abandoned the surface for the floating cities we built in the gravity wakes in the sky, where there is an equilibrium between the gravitic up-currents with the static gravity well of the planet.

  Tau Ceti Prime is the only place in the four settled star systems that this particular phenomenon occurs. Just when mankind thinks we have a complete understanding of astral-metrics and physics, the universe shows us we still have a lot to learn.

  It makes the transit to orbit and the interstellar traffic lanes so much cheaper and easier than any other terraformed world. The cost of upmass from the floating cities is one hundredth of launches from any other world when we use those same gravitic up-currents to move things into a transfer orbit.

  Mother said that we can't become too complacent with free mass lift, and the energy that simple gravitic converters supply our civilization, or we will start to lose the need to innovate new systems.

  This has reared its ugly head over the past century as more and more efforts have been made to make living in the floating cities more opulent for the residents, while ignoring the basic needs of the ones dirtside who are providing all their foodstuffs.

  That has trickled down to all aspects of technology, and manufacturing and the manufacture of replacement parts or newer pingers and harvesters, gets pushed aside for making newer solar, and plasma powered sports tumbrils the upper-class folks ride around in, from city to city on the up-currents.

  I agreed with mom's observations. Just in my short lifetime, they had only made one improvement on harvesting technology when we moved from the Mark 8's to the Mark 9's, after eighty years with the Mark 8's. Then even with that, they have only sent twelve down to us dirters. I'm lucky to have three Mark 9's under my care. They are marvels.

  They also moved to fewer pingers per agri-grid farm as they incorporated higher levels of programming and AI into the automatons. This gave them more self-awareness than I think they actually realize or understand topside. Like Turk, he's the smartest guy I have to work on down here on Agri-grid A1.

  I stepped nervously up to the handset, its copper a green verdigris with age, and the brass almost black from lack of use and upkeep. I picked it up and pressed the earpiece against my ear and spoke into the mouthpiece. “H-hello?”

  I cringed and pulled the earpiece away as I got a static screech in my ear. I looked at the device and the panel the wires connected to. Mother had instructed me how to use it when I was little. Let's see. It needed power to boost the signal. Though it was wired down here, and actual cables ran between all the farms, it used old transistor radio technology to connect topside in New Terra.

  I hummed the little song my mom had used to teach me the system. She did that a lot. Humans learn better with music and patterns than simple words or written instruction. I smiled as I remembered and grabbed a brass lever on the panel and pulled. It protested after sitting unused for so many years. I could hear the dynamo start to spin up.

  I pulled the lever over and over until the ready lights all started to glow, random sparks shooting out of the back of the panel. I'd have to look at that later, now that I knew the old thing still worked. I held up the handset again. “Hello?”

  A terse man's voice came crackling through the earpiece. “Agri-grid A1 are you reading? This is New Terra Actual. Come on you stupid dirters, respond.” He couldn't receive my transmission?

  I scowled then looked at the panel and kicked it. A fountain of sparks shot out of the vents and rained down, showering the floor and my feet, and the static cleared up. I grinned, troubleshooting at its finest. I repeated, “Hello? This is Agri-grid A1, can you hear me?”

  The man growled out, “It's about damn time. I don't have all day here. I'm looking for a tinker...” I heard paperwork shuffling, then he cleared his throat. “Yes, here it is. I'm looking for a tinker named Fixit.”

  I replied carefully, “This is Fixit. How can I help you, sir?” As I wondered what they could possibly want from me. I was the only tinker dirtside that always met my quotas. I was proud of the fact. But then again, there were only twenty people manning the entire farming operation here dirtside so maybe that wasn't saying much. Hell, my nearest neighbor was in grid A2 a hundred and four miles away.

  I manned A1 alone once they made budget cutbacks five years back and moved the other four dirters topside for maintenance duties in the sewage treatment sectors. I was sure that their next version of AI in the pingers was going to make me obsolete and the entire dirtside operation would be automated, including maintenance.

  He let out an exasperated sound and asked, “Why aren't you on visual?”

  Visual? Oh yeah. I pushed the pile of parts and wiring harnesses which were stacked on the chair by the com unit, onto the floor, and then sat. I moved the greasy rag with a partially disassembled linear phase rectifier circuit off to the side, revealing the brass and copper framed glass screen.

  I saw a static filled screen with a vague outline of a man's face. I slammed my fist down on the counter, and the image cleared up enough to see a well-dressed man in his mid-thirties with a thin bow tie.

  He was impeccably groomed, having the tiny goatee that the well to do Primers fancied lately... I had seen it cropping up in all the catalogs that were dropped off to us dirters to entice us to spend our meager stipend on the merchandise pictured. He's what we called a dandy down here. Probably never worked an honest day in his life.

  He pulled back with a look of distaste on his face. “Don't you dirters ever wash yourselves?”

  I restrained myself from blurting out that I had to do some critical repairs before breakfast so that Topsiders like him could eat. Instead, I self-consciously touched my hair and cheek and said nothing.

  Then he asked, “You signed off on special requisition A3142 on Tumbril 43 yesterday?”

  Ah yes, the special request from the capitol, for none other than Lady Peregrine herself. She was throwing some sort of ball and requested more than their standard rations. My team had to work double time, and I wound up in the strawberry fields myself with Glitch to pick the strawberries they needed because I couldn't divert any harvesters since they were busy with the standard harvests.

  They requested almost a third of all the available strawberries we had growing dirtside. I saw it as opulent waste. But I hear strawberries sold for more than their weight in gold or cobalt crystals up there. I had smirked at that, because dirtside, we ate whatever we wanted, it was one of the only perks. I always savored the strawberries and the grapes we sent topside.

  I replied carefully, “Yes sir?”

  He nodded. “The shipment was hijacked by Betweeners en route to New Terra City.”

  I blinked. Pirates? This close to the capitol? They were getting more and more brazen. Their solar powered Tumbrils were fast. They converted raw solar energy into plasma, and their drives could overtake the old air breathing turbines which most of Tau Ceti Prime still used except the rich and the Guard.

  Then he narrowed his eyes accusingly at me. “If we do not have a replacement shipment up here by noon tomorrow, then the loss is being taken from your stipend, and you will be brought up on charges.”

  I sputtered. “From my stipend? Charges!? It isn't my fault that Betweeners hijacked the capitol's tumbril!”

  He went still and then calmly said, “I'm responsible for getting the supplies for Lady Peregrine. Are you suggesting it is my fault? You signed off on the order. So it is your responsibility.�
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  I tried to calm down. “It isn't my fault, nor is it yours. We don't have any control over pirates.”

  He sneered. “Someone will have to go down for this. And if it is between me and a dirter...” He left it hanging with a nasty smile.

  God damn flanterskelling trollite! I bit my tongue then asked from between clenched teeth, “When will your tumbril be here for loading?”

  He glared. “All tumbrils to the surface are suspended while the Sky Guard clears the airspace of Betweeners. You need to find your own way up.”

  The flanterskelling, crystal licking, bootwaffle! I looked out the window into the repair bay. In the far back corner, there was an old dusty tarp covering my mother's old tumbril. I have meant to get it running for years, but have never found the time. I guess I had to find the time now.

  The screen started to fade, and I grabbed the lever and pulled it a couple more times to keep the power flowing. He asked, “So are you going to bring my Lady her strawberries or do I need to let the Sky Guard know they need to pick you up too during their sweep?”

  I hissed out, “Fine. You'll get your shipment.” I had no clue how I would do it and still be able to make quotas. It would be pulling things close on the strawberries alone until next season.

  He smiled, showing his perfectly straight teeth. “I'm glad you see things my way, Fixit. Now go... fix it.” He cut the connection as he laughed at his own lame joke. Now I remembered why I hated topsiders. It almost made me want to give up my dream of seeing the floating cities myself.

  I paused at the realization that, if I pulled this off, I would actually be able to. Someone had to fly the tumbril! My heart beat faster, and I reached over and slid the office window open as I yelled into the shop. “Glitch, Blip, Wrongway, I need you now!”