This need to heal didn't cause the man to take it any easier on her, but a sound-producing healing device, like the one that had been next to her bed in the hospital, showed up in her room, turned on. She didn't know if it helped her get any stronger or in better shape particularly, but she didn't ache overly from the exercises. That made the whole thing a lot easier to keep up with. After the first week the pain medicine had stopped coming in the morning before the work out, so everything felt harder. She could still keep up just as well, it just hurt more to do it now.
On the first workout day of the third week, it was snowing when she went outside. Winslow didn't call off training, instead he just fixed some metal spikes on heavy straps to the bottom of her boots and took her running as usual, if a tiny bit slower, so that they wouldn't slip and fall. When time came for the calisthenics they did in between the running, the older man just threw himself down on the ground and began, snow or not. Given his example she had to follow suit, which made her cold, but otherwise didn't make a huge difference until the push-ups, which were way harder, her hands kept trying to slid out from underneath her. She laughed as she explained the problem to him.
“Still, probably good for the support muscles, right?”
Winslow nodded, giving her a small and sedate smile.
They ran longer, each day's run had taken them further away from the house, through the woods that sat behind them. She couldn't tell for sure, but she felt like they were going a little faster now than they had to begin with as well. Maybe all the juices and pills were doing something for her or maybe Katherine's body just had a natural aptitude for running. Or both. In her original body Gwen hadn't ever been much of one for aerobics, running or any other kind, because breathing had been so awkward for her. It still took focus to remember to breathe only through the nose.
Winslow had a surprise for her when they went into the ballroom that day. He'd set up a table, one of the nice wooden ones, with tall wood blocks on it, each with a small red target on it. Then he pointed a stick at her – or a pipe possibly, as it had a coppery sheen to it, the whole thing about three-foot-long – and squeezed the trigger, hitting her in the stomach. The impact felt a bit like someone flicked her with a finger, hard, but not painfully so. He then handed the weapon to her.
“You may recognize this as a children's toy. A crin. Being a woman you probably never played with one of these as a child. Still, other than power level and lack of aiming guide light, this toy is basically what all military personnel carry into battle. The big difference here is that with this you'll have about one hundred shots and with a real one you'd get about eight to ten, depending on power level and crystal size.”
He then set her to knocking down the little blocks on the table, over and over again. When they were all knocked down, she had to run down and set them back up as fast as she could, he told her, so that she didn't miss out on any training time.
Hitting the blocks with the little weapon took a lot more practice than she'd thought it would. There was no way to really tell what she hit, if she missed the block she aimed at and no guides on the weapon to judge by either. It could be done of course, she'd watched Winslow do it before he left to get ready for his day, knocking down one after the other with hardly a sound. Plus, she'd felt the blast on her stomach, so she knew firsthand that the weapon worked.
After a while she started to get the hang of it, placing the butt of the stick against her side in the same place each time and letting her left arm, which grabbed the stick near the tip, away from her body, go straight, she should always be pointed at about level with her waist no matter how far in front of her the target was. Then by turning her upper body she could aim right or left. She practiced until Winslow came to get her for breakfast, and held on to the tiny weapon when he put his hand out to take it back.
“Nope. I can recharge the crystal easily enough. I intend to practice this afternoon.” She realized how bossy she sounded and relented a bit then. “I mean, if you'll lend this to me...”
Rather than being bothered by the idea he just nodded and left the crin in her hands, telling her that he'd gotten it only a few days before, specifically for her to practice with.
As the day progressed she did get better at knocking down the blocks, but it got a little boring for her after a while. Better than sitting and doing nothing. God she missed TV. Or even decent radio.
At dinner that night they were interrupted by Admiral Welk and Cousin Reg, who hugged her and asked where her cute friend had gotten to. She held her palms up and told him that she was on duty, or something that an assistant wouldn't be welcome on, and left it at that.
Uncle Thomas made small talk for a few minutes then told them why he'd actually come.
“It's the annual problem, Robert... With the snow we can't get large crystals charged for the main drives. The smaller ones are easily taken by snow-sledges, but the big ones just weight too much and push the sledge into the ground...” Mr. Vernor winced when he heard this but didn't say anything.
Before Gwen could ask any questions, Mrs. Vernor summed the whole thing up, largely for her benefit, it seemed, a solid glance being sent her way, as if to say she should listen.
“It's like this each year, isn't it? We end up being able to get enough sledges around for the goods, even if it does take twice as long, but we can't get the crystals charged for the big airships. If only the chargers' union would let them work on the ships themselves. We can't even hire other people to do the work, or the union would stop servicing our crystals at all...”
This made sense to Gwen, they had to use the union's people, since most of the chargers that were good enough to handle a big crystal worked for them. If they hired anyone else, they'd have to do everything themselves, and short of having their own dedicated charging operation that wouldn't work.
“What about, I mean I don't know their union rules, but what if family members did the charging? Would they have a problem with that? I mean, crew members are allowed to do emergency charges, right? So, kind of like that? Just thinking out loud here...”
Thomas looked at her suddenly, tilting his head.
“That... could work, actually. I mean there are emergency provisions, and if we used family members and crew, no one would be able to complain, not as long as they didn't send people over or provide service at least, if they do that, well, of course we'd go with the union on it, it's not like we haven't begged them for years to consider it. Robert? It's your call ultimately...”
He went still, then looked around the table for a minute.
“Yeesss...” The word drew out of him, not excited by the prospect, but obviously considering it fully. “If we have the able crew and family do the work, maybe offer a bonus to anyone that helped, a percentage of the run perhaps? After all, no charge means no work, so that's fair, two percent of the total for those doing the charge work? I think we should try it. We have nothing to lose after all, everything is just sitting there waiting.”
Next to her at the table, where he had wedged himself in, Reg laughed out loud.
“Right, but who'd be crazy enough to try it? Do you know how deadly dull charging a two-thousand pound crystal pack must be? Will anyone even be willing to attempt it?”
Deciding to be daring, Gwen snaked an arm around Reg's shoulders and gave him a squeeze that nearly ended in a side head lock. He protested a bit, causing everyone else to laugh, even Mrs. Vernor.
“You, me...Um...” She looked around the table. She knew that Reg could do it, at least in theory since he drove a lorrie he had to be in the upper seventy plus percent. She just didn't know about the others at the table.
Ethyl held her head up and proclaimed that she'd do her part, which got the Admiral in as well. Mr. Vernor nodded and touched his chin, giving them a wise look, after a bit he broke in to a smile.
“I suppose I could help a bit too. Own the company and all. Might as well.”
She suggested that they go the next day and set things up if they could, after her morning exercises. Near the back of the room she thought she saw Winslow smile a bit, but she didn't look to see for sure. Reg asked what exercises she meant.
“Oh, you know, just some things to get my health back, having been stabbed and all that, rehabilitation stuff...” She waved it all off as if it had no great meaning.
He colored and mumbled an apology for asking, acting as if the question had been improper or something. Maybe it was by their social rules? It made sense to her not to tell him the truth, Reg being liable to mock her efforts if he knew what she was really doing. Not that she really knew what she was doing herself, the Westmorlands all having been pretty closed mouth about everything.
The next morning she met Winslow in the dark again, the snow having fallen to about eight inches deep. He handed her a heavy coat, helped her into the metal shoe spikes and had her help him in return, then handed her a heavy pack to wear. He shrugged one on himself, then led her on a long slow jog, much longer than the others had been, after an hour he had them stop for water, which they drank quickly, then they started again.
Near the end of the second hour, on their second break, he handed her a power conduit, a different one than she'd used before, she could tell, because it looked slightly reddish, in the early morning light, instead of the plain silver of the last one.
He pointed toward a snow bank, moving her arm to the side gently and had her trigger it, cautioning her not to look at the unit, but the snow itself. Using her mind to power the conduit and her eyes to target at the same time. A wave of white fluff flew away from her, making a half circle about five feet away, all the way down to the ground. Handy if she needed to clear the walk later, which probably should be done. It was a slipping hazard right now.
“This is yours now. I want you to have it to hand, ready to use that means, at all times. Take it to bed with you, into the shower or bath, it doesn't leave you. Now, we're going to work on your speed with it and ability to pay attention. I'm going into the woods and will launch an attack at you as you run. Keep the PC out and ready. If you can, stop the attack with it. Keep running regardless. Understood?”
She repeated his instructions back to him, getting from him a look she didn't really fathom as he took off into the woods. It probably meant he planned to be tricky, she decided, that look. She started running, following their earlier tracks, which should take her in a large circle, eventually heading back toward the house. Nothing happened for ten minutes, then twenty, she kept on running, trying to stay ready. As she headed back toward the house, and got about a hundred meters away, the snow to her right erupted.
A man, dressed all in white, almost invisible to the eye, stood and threw something at her. She paused, not remembering what to do, then fired the power conduit, hoping to catch the object in mid-flight. Her pause had been too long and her timing off, so the object, something hard, cold and prickly, caught her in the side of the head. She squeaked, then remembered she'd also been told to keep running.
The next one caught her in the arm, but after that she held them off as she ran past and made it to the house. Inside, she didn't know what the rules were. Would he bring a snowball with him? Was this over once she got to a safe base? She ducked behind a door in the back hallway and waited, crouching down. He rounded the door suddenly, an icy projectile passing over her head and hitting the wall. Reaching up she pointed the small rectangle at him, about four inches from his groin, the movement caused him to look down.
“Alright! Operation over before I have to use a snow pack for the rest of the day.” He stood back, laughing. “From now on, keep that with you like I said. It's not a lethal weapon, but it will still give you an edge if you need it.”
Then they both left to get ready for the day.
Gwen dressed in the same clothing she'd worn as a loader, keeping the heavy and lightly oil-stained workman's coat that Winslow had lent her for the morning's exercises. It felt damp inside and probably smelled, or would after a while, but it was warmer than anything Katherine owned. The hangars wouldn't be heated, though the engine rooms might be, it had always seemed warm enough inside on the airship at least. Of course that may have taken power from the crystals they were trying to charge, so she had to be ready. She figured she could always take layers off, if need be, as long as she had them on in the first place.
The driver that came for them, not James, an older man with a gray beard, bundled up in many layers himself, pulled up in a sleigh. One pulled by the motivator from a lorrie it looked like, which rested on two skids, instead of the normal wheels. The handle for steering looked thinner, the whole thing lighter looking, though it still had a closed top. Ethyl and Robert had both dressed warmly, if in very fine clothes. Ethyl gave her a slightly funny look when she saw her.
Smiling Gwen tilted her head at the woman.
“What? They already know me as Curly the loader, if I show up in a fine gown and coat they'll think I'm play acting or robbed some rich woman. Besides I can get away with dressing like this. I bet I don't even stand out down there... Even with the ugly, oversized jacket.”
The sledge pulled up alongside the main office building about forty minutes later. If anything, the small vehicle moved faster than a regular lorrie, and didn't slide much on the road, even with the deep snow. Apparently the concept of the snow plow wasn't something that had ever occurred here. Instead, everyone that could afford to just switched vehicles, including public transit, she'd noticed, as they'd passed at least two of the large vehicles on the trail. The pavement had vanished under the thick layer of white, so thinking of it as a road seemed ambitious to her.
The word had gone out earlier and the nine ships that needed their crystals recharged all stood in their hangars loaded already. Without waiting for orders, Gwen asked the Admiral which one was first and headed over when he told her it was the Condor and pointed the way.
Thanks to all the recent exercise, she wasn't even breathing hard when she got there, tramping through the snow that came up to mid-calf now. A burly man in a jacket an awful lot like hers stood and watched her walk up. He smirked at her a bit and took about two steps toward her when she got there.
“You here for the crystal then? We don't have anyone that can charge it within a week... You get it done faster and I'll give you something special...” He leered at her a little.
“Weelll... If by special you mean coffee, and you hook me up before hand, I may be able to help.” She grinned and hoped he wouldn't bother her too much.
Laughing, he pointed inside the ship's cargo bay and told her he'd have some coffee brought to her right away. The crystal was big, noticeably bigger than anything she'd ever tried before. She locked on and started pushing power into it, using the new focus she'd learned with her power conduit exercises to try and keep things steady and flowing as smoothly as possible. After a while, she felt something warm in her hand, a cup of coffee, which she drank in one go, handing the cup back to the hand that waited.
She didn't let her focus waiver much, another cup of coffee got placed in her hand a while later, which was followed by half a beef sandwich and some water. She felt the crystal push back against her finally, hours later, double checked it to make sure it was really fully charged and stood up. She lifted her hands over her head and stretched backwards.
The burly man looked at her, but even with the stretching he didn't leer now. Instead he walked over and stared at the copper charge plate.
“I'll be fucked! It's a full charge already! Not even six hours in? Hey! Hey you lazy good for nothings! Help me load this crystal! We got charge!”
The burly man shook her hand like he meant it and patted her shoulder solidly. Then he pointed, directing her toward another of the big hangars, three over, the Swallow, who'd been sitting and waiting fully loaded for two days.
She used the head quickly and started doing the work. Even though she hadn't asked, coffee came quickly and her cup got refilled about once per hour. Another sandwich came, this time followed by more coffee. The crystal letting her know it was full about the time that she would have had to stop to use the facilities again anyway. The Engineer, a wiry looking older man that had to be past sixty double checked her work and gave her a nod. Instead of pointing her to the next ship, he walked her over himself, she noticed he walked with a slight limp and talked with a heavy accent, one that sounded more like what a sailor really should to her... or a pirate.
He told her that the next ship could leave within minutes of her finishing up, if she could do it, of course. She told him she felt fine so far, but carefully didn't make any promises. When they got to the side hatch of the craft he pounded on the door with his fist. When a dark skinned woman pulled the door open for them, the man spoke, his voice much smoother than it had been before.
“This be the charging lass wot the higher ups sent. Give her coffee and whatever else you have to keep 'er propped up. She done already got full charges for Condor and Swallow inside twelve hours. Give her food too, lessen you want 'er to collapse on you.”
This time changed a lot, since within moments a strange man came and gave her a pill to take.
“Engines said to give you something to keep you awake. This'll do it. You won't need coffee after this, but in sixteen hours or so, you'll be out, understand? This will keep you up and working, even feeling alright, 'til it runs out, then you'll have to sleep, no choice in it.”
She took it, hoping it wasn't something too dangerous, something like speed maybe? She'd never had amphetamines back home, but then she'd never tried to produce power for airships like this before either. Hopefully it wasn't instantly addictive or anything.
The rest of the day went by in a haze, even though everything seemed to be incredibly clear at the same time. She managed another two large ships before the pill, whatever it was, wore out. She told the man that the last Engineer had left to watch her, a small wiry man that looked fifty or so, about the pill and what she'd been told, then mentioned she only had about four hours left before it wore off. He suggested that she get home then, since she wouldn't have enough time to do another full crystal and a half charged crystal wouldn't really help anyone right now.
She got home late for her work out, but filled with energy, so she put on her exercise clothes, which looked an awful lot like what she'd worn the day before, slipped her new power conduit into her jacket pocket and went looking for the spikes that Winslow had been putting on her each morning. At the back door she found them already laid out, next to a heavy pack, which seemed heavier than the one from the day before, and put them on.
She jogged slowly for a while, following the regular route, intending to redo what they'd done the day before. On her second trip through, she suddenly came under attack. Snowballs came from the right, one hitting her in the head, she used the force generated by the small red tinted metal piece that found its way into her hand to stop the next three. Then nothing happened for a while as she kept jogging.
An attack from the left hit her. Snowballs fell like rain. She managed to hold them off after she'd seen the first one, with a sustained burst from the weapon, using it to create a kind of anti-snowball force field, while she tried to keep running.
Finally after several more attacks she ran into the house, laughing. Inside she ran into Winslow as she came through the door. Actually impacting with him bodily, she stopped giggling and stared.
“But...” She sputtered, looking at him closely, dressed in his normal work clothes, a dapper black suit with gray vest and shiny black shoes. “Then who was pelting me with snowballs out there?”
He looked concerned until a knock came at the back door. He moved to open it cautiously, his own hand going to his jacket pocket.