A Matter of Honor (Privateer Tales Book 9) (3 page)

"If you'll follow me," he said.

The hallway ended at a T-intersection. We followed him to the right and found ourselves at an elevator which opened as we approached.

"Definitely a station," Tabby said, mostly to herself. I nodded. The smell of recycled station air wasn't something that could be faked, nor could it be hidden.

The elevator doors closed behind us. We dropped for a few seconds and then jogged to the right.

"And here we are," Jonathan announced just before the doors opened.

In front of us was a cavernous room that extended up twenty meters ending in a domed ceiling. Video panels, tools, equipment, partially constructed robots and all matter of technology were hanging above or strewn over a dozen workbenches placed haphazardly throughout the room.

In the middle of it all sat a small, ebony-skinned teenage boy. We were far enough away that he might not have heard us arrive - or he was ignoring us. That said, I assumed we weren't here for him anyway.

"Master Anino, I present to you, the Loose Nuts Corporation and crew of
Hotspur
. Gentlemen, ladies, I present Master Phillippe Anino, direct descendant and sole heir to Thomas Anino, inventor of fold-space technology and the TransLoc gate system," Jonathan said proudly.

You know what they say about assumptions.

Yishuv Settlement, Planet Ophir

Amon stood atop the fallen nanstel gate, driving out the ancient bolts that secured the iron hinges. He marveled at the strength of the nanstel. Even after four centuries of use, neither the gate panels nor nuts and bolts showed any signs of deterioration. Indeed, the weak link had always been the cast iron hinges.

He carefully collected each nut and bolt pair and placed them in a wooden crate. Over the centuries, several bolts had been lost to carelessness and Amon vowed it would not happen on his watch.

"Mom, I'm ready," he called to Nurit.

One by one, Nurit and Amon picked up the broken seventy-five kilogram hinges and placed them on the platform of a four-wheeled cart.

"Will you repair them or cast new ones?" Merik asked.

Merik, the settlement's chief engineer, had been helping the masons excavate the buried hinge straps from between the massive limestone blocks.

Nurit looked up, still out of breath.

"I'm sorry about Ozzie," she said. "He was a good man."

"I'll miss him. He was a bright engineer and full of life," Merik replied.

"We'll all miss him," Nurit agreed. "As for the hinges, we'll have to make new casts. It catches us at a bad time as we're short on pig iron."

"Do you have enough?"

"We do for the gates, but with all of the damage to the settlement, there will be considerable demand."

Merik's daughter, Merrie, stepped forward but remained respectfully quiet.

"Yes, my young apprentice, do you have something to add?" Merik asked.

She rolled her eyes at him. "I'm not that young. I'm only a year younger than Amon."

"Forgive a father for not wanting his precious daughter to grow up too soon," he said with a warm smile.

"You're forgiven," she said, suddenly looking at the ground as Amon approached.

"Did you have a question?" Merik asked.

"Uh… well… why aren't we using steel instead of iron?" she stammered.

Merik and Nurit exchanged a knowing smile, recognizing Merrie's sudden change due to Amon's arrival.

"That is a good question, young woman," Merik said. "Tell me why you think we aren't using steel for the hinges."

Merrie's cheeks flushed at Amon, Nurit and Merik's attention. "That's obvious. Iron is practical and easy to smelt and the founder's maker-machine can't make steel. Not to mention, we haven't previously known how."

"And now we do?"

"Yes. That engineering pad you found in the broken blaster has plans for steel mills and more," Merrie said.

"Sounds like I gave it to the right girl, then," he said proudly.

"
Da-ad
, I'm not just your little girl anymore, I'm twenty-stans. And I'm serious. We could make steel," she said.

"Sounds like quite an undertaking, what would you have us do?" her father asked.

"Make an electric arc furnace. We have the raw materials and it would only take a tenday to manufacture the special items on the maker-machine," she said.

"My apologies, Merrie, for interrupting," Nurit said. "Amon and I must return these hinges to the forge. We have many days of work ahead. I don't want to discourage you, but I'm afraid the Council will not accept using the maker-machine in such a way."

"I understand," Merrie's crestfallen face betrayed her disappointment.

Uncharacteristically, Amon spoke up. "The Council needs to hear Merrie's idea. What if our gates hadn't fallen to the Ophie? Merik might have been able to relocate the working turret in time to hold off the breach."

Merrie beamed at Amon's praise and looked to Nurit and Merik.

"The Council has many things to discuss after this latest attack and might be open to a new project," Merik said. "But you must be able demonstrate how it aids our defense. What you have, Merrie, is an idea. What you need is a plan that demonstrates why it is critical to our survival. Only then will the Council approve using the maker-machine for that length of time," Merik said.

"I don't know how to do that," she said.

"This, my young apprentice, is the job of an engineer. If you are truly interested, you must show creativity and resolve," Merik said.

"Do you believe you could really create a machine that produces steel?" Amon asked.

Merrie paused, intimidated by being put on the spot. What had once resided in the sole province of her mind was now out, in front of people she respected. If this went any further, it'd be in front of the entire community. A failure would be hard to live down.

"I could with your help," she finally said.

"Then you will have it," he said, holding his hand out to her.

For Merrie, it was an unfamiliar gesture. People never sought to shake the hand of a twenty stans old engineering apprentice. Amon, steady as a mountain, didn't waver as she hesitated. She finally reached out to grasp his wrist, as was their custom. She felt an electric charge at the touch and was surprised at how gentle his grip was as he closed it on her own.

"Amon, we must go." Nurit pushed.

He nodded and climbed into the cart with her and they drove slowly back through town to the smithy.

"I need all of your attention on these hinges," Nurit said as they drove.

"I understand. Even if Merrie's plan were approved, we couldn't leave the gates lying on the ground waiting for an untested machine to produce steel," Amon agreed.

"There will be many demands for our time and materials in the days ahead," Nurit said.

"But still, we can't be slaves to the past," he said "The Ophir will continue to attack, as they have for the last four centuries. Our technology is failing and we have to get smarter."

"You sound so much like your father. He would be proud of you," Nurit said.

They arrived at the smithy to find Eliora standing in the shade. Amon and Eliora hadn't talked much since their fateful trip and Amon suspected she'd been avoiding him. Even now, she looked at the ground instead of making eye contact.

"Eliora, welcome. How may we be of assistance?" Nurit asked.

"Captain Gian asked me to check on the progress of the gate, ammunition and well… he sent a list," she said, clearly uncomfortable.

"Ah, yes, the first of many such visits. You may report to the Captain that we will pour our first cast at the end of tenday and that barring any setbacks, polished hinges will be ready for installation by sixday next. Our engineer will coordinate the installation. I've already shared this schedule with Master Merik," Nurit said, unperturbed.

Eliora held out a notebook filled with several pages of writing. Nurit took the list and reviewed it.

"Inform Captain Gian that his request was delivered and that I'd like to speak with him at his earliest convenience," Nurit said.

As they were talking, three people approached. Amon recognized them from school and knew they currently worked as laborers on the farms.

"I'll finish with Eliora. It looks like our help has arrived. Would you get them started?" Nurit asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Amon said respectfully. "Eliora, it was good to see you."

Eliora raised her head but didn't meet his eyes. "You too, Amon."

Amon led the crew away from Nurit and Eliora. Casting iron was a labor intensive process and without additional strong backs, the process would take much longer.

"Greetings. Thank you for coming," he said.

"Not like we were given a choice," Barel complained.

Physically larger than Amon, Barel was an intimidating figure. Amon and Barel had played against each other in net ball and Amon knew him to be slow and dull-witted. In a pure competition of strength, it was likely a tossup, however.

"Stop whining, Barel. At least we're not scooping porcine dung." The young woman who spoke was named Assa. Her deeply tanned shoulders were cut with deep muscles from years of labor.

"We'll work over here," Amon said. He led the group to depleted piles of sand and coal. "The first task is to sift two more tons of sand. Barel and Assa, you've helped with that before, right?"

"Yes. Remind me which sifter to use?" Assa asked.

"There are two fine sifters, either of them work well. Rivi, you and I will grind coal and clay," Amon said.

It was well after dark when they'd finished and were sitting quietly at a thick-slabbed wooden table. Hanging electric lanterns illuminated the smithy's courtyard. They ate a simple meal of thick bread, cheese, and meat with a red berry light ale to help relax their tired muscles.

"Will you need us tomorrow?" Assa asked.

"We mix the casting sand tomorrow and will need you until threeday," Nurit replied.

"We're here for as long as you need, Master Nurit," the young woman said.

"And when we get back, we'll have that much more to do," Barel complained.

Rivi scowled at the other man. "It beats the Ophies walking through our front gates."

"Please be ready to work by sunrise tomorrow," Nurit said. "We have another long day ahead."

After Assa, Barel and Rivi left, Amon looked to Nurit. At forty-five stans, she was one of the strongest people in town. She'd taken over for Amon's father, Nadav, as the town's blacksmith after Ophies had killed him in a raid eighteen stans ago.

"What did you talk with Gian about?" he asked. When the captain of the protectors had been there earlier, he'd heard definite sounds of arguing.

"An expedition to gather hematite. The sample you brought back is loaded with iron. Ozzie's death will not be in vain. If there's as much rock as you say, it will last for decades," she said.

"Will Gian help?"

"You're to meet the expedition at the gates shortly after first light. You may take one of the laborers with you. I'd like you to bring back thirty tonnes," she said.

"We'll need more than the mule to haul that."

"I've arranged for four heavy wagons, carrying eight tonnes each. Please be careful not to overload them."

Amon nodded, considering the logistics. "Several mules would be helpful. The heavy wagons will be unable to traverse the path we took, though I didn't see a better route."

"How many do you need?" she asked.

"Three," he responded. "The last two hundred meters are too rocky for the wagons."

She smiled proudly at her son. "I'll take care of it."

The next morning Amon was awake well before dawn. He stopped at the settlement's machine shop and picked up an additional reciprocating pick, hydraulic lifters, and other tools he believed he'd need. It was his first time leading such a large expedition and he wanted to make sure it went well.

After picking up a groggy Barel, they drove back just as morning light was showing on the horizon. Amon saw what he'd only heard rumors of the night before. The Ophies had trashed the fields and most of the crops looked like they'd been lost.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Barel said.

"Oh?" Amon asked.

"The row crops took a beating, but the tubers will be fine. Sure, you'll complain about lack of variety, but we won't starve," he said. "We've already started replanting, but of course, the blacksmith takes our workers so it's not going very fast."

"Did you have enough warning when they came?" Amon asked, letting the other man's complaints fade away.

"People who were working near the walls were luckiest. The people closer to the forest weren't so lucky. Mostly, it was old people who didn't make it," he said.

Amon nodded at the story he'd heard his entire life. Ophies attacked and killed the unlucky who became their targets. Yishuv's crumbling defenses were the only thing that had allowed its inhabitants to survive the last four centuries.

As they arrived at the main gate, Amon wasn't surprised to see that a thick tree trunk had been raised up and placed across the opening in the wall, above where the gates belonged. Block and tackle hung from the trunk, waiting for the hinges to be repaired so the gates could be lifted back into place.

Captain Gian was talking to a group of ten people dressed in protector uniforms, crossbows hanging from their belts. Eliora saw Amon approach. He tried to catch her eye, but she turned away.

Gian waved him over.

"Is this all the equipment you'll need?"

Three large wagons had already arrived, pulled by tractors brought in from the fields. So far, there was only one mule.

"I was hoping for four wagons and another mule with a cart," Amon said. "The drivers will have to help load the material."

"The mule is on its way, but these are the only available wagons. I'll use one to carry troops. As for help moving material, the drivers understand that expectation," he said.

"Two trips, then?" Amon asked.

"If we have time."

Amon wanted to argue, but knew better. As one of the most powerful men in the city, Captain Gian's direction was to be followed.