TOW51

Chapter 51 - The Other War
Delios
Pentagon Worlds
3062
A sonic boom that shook the windows roused Cara and Rebekah from their slumber in the middle of the night. They rolled onto the carpeted floor of their safehouse peering outside through a small window. Becky pulled out a monocular sight trying to get a better view. An egg-shaped dropship slowly descended on a plume of white fire to Cape Valiant, the primary Starport and Warrior Cantonment on Delios.
“Looks like an Overlord!”
Cara stood behind her careful to avoid stepping on their still packed bags. Their luggage and mattresses took up most of the floor space which was already just enough for both of them to have their own space, “Whose? and are picking up or dropping off?”
“Can’t tell. Thrust plume is too bright from this distance. They are definitely going down.”
The event was over before long, distance and darkness prevented a positive ID but there were no raid sirens blaring indicating an enemy was about to attack. Rebekah yawned, curled back into her sleeping bag, gently cradling a matte gray Gauss SMG next to her. “Go back to bed. We will look into it tomorrow.”
Instead of listening Cara watched Rebekah sleep for a few minutes. Despite her brash and sometimes carefree exterior Becky was still grieving deep on the inside. Her quick acceptance of Cyne's offer to be a Watch operator gave her a mission of revenge and distance from spaces linked her now deceased brother. She told Cara around the campfire that she chose their cover for practical reasons, but she intuited emotional ones as well, they were pretending to be sisters for a deeper reason. 
Rex and Rebekah had spent their entire lives together, from their time as creche duty-children to graduating Sibko and receiving honors from the Khan together. Now the only person she had was Cara, which was unfortunate because she didn't think that was wise. She opened her comm-pad, careful to hide the slight light from her partner sleeping less than a meter away, continuing to read the reports that had so enraptured her ever since she received them less than a week ago.
Cara woke up to the morning sun, no alarm or Rebekah who left a note saying that she was going to recover the jeep alone and would return sometime that evening. Free for the day she headed out into Deep Harbor, the largest, busiest, and loudest Enclave she had even visited. 
Streetcars rolled quietly through narrow streets on rails connecting the five formerly separate districts that over the years combined into one Enclave. Cara walked past Patrol officers on their motorbikes watching fleets of microtrucks pass through the streets in good order. Some abrupt communication was required in the form of very noisy horns compared to the quiet fuel cell or battery driven vehicles. 
Finding the source of the Patrolmen's coffee Cara walked into the plain storefront finding it packed with Castemen wearing jackets with the deer's head logo printed on many of the vehicles outside, one that belonged to no Clan or Guild she recognized. She ordered breakfast and settled in a corner table intrigued by the strangers, their origin, and accent. Once they exited she walked up to the shopkeeper cleaning the table, “Who were those people? I have never seen anything like them.”
The shopkeeper, one of the loosely defined Artisan subcaste licensed to operate independent (but monitored) limited ventures in Clanspace, looked the small girl over taking in her disguise of a forestry apprentice likely on a break. “You must have spent a long time in the forest girl. They're workers for Sambar Sundries, an IS Free Guild brought here by the Hell's Horses. They started working in Deep Harbor two months ago.” 
He pointed outside to a building under construction nearby, the steel and fiberglass skeleton reaching over the sprawling but shallow Enclave. “Started building that about the same time. Its Guildmaster cut a deal with our Harbormaster. All of our heavy transports were pulled away to support Warriors in the Outlands and the few that have returned were basically scrap. Don't know how we would have kept the Shipyard and Starport operating without them. They tip good too.”
“Tip?”
Seeing her confusion the middle aged shopkeeper came to a realization, “Right, of course you wouldn't know that. You're so young, might have just tested down and out. Its extra POGS for good service.”
“But good service is expected.”
“Not to these Spheroids.” He leaned in, “Don't tell anyone but I overheard that they make nearly fifty percent more than the locals. Most are using it to bring family to the Homeworlds aboard Hell's Horses ships. 
I am just collecting my fair share. Eventually might have enough to afford my own Dacha in the hills where I can fish all day and get away from the salt air and city life for a time.”
A Patrolmen walked into the shop drawing shopkeep's attention while Cara absorbed what he said.
“Shopkeep, I want some of those, sweet things, that those Free Guilders walked out with. Now while we are idle.”
“One large order of Fattigman cookies coming right up Kevin.” While he pan fried some dough and drenched it in sugar the Patrolman looked Cara over from behind an open faced motorcycle helmet, “Where is your assignment Apprentice?”
She presented her codex which was quickly reviewed and returned, “As you can see I am unassigned Patrolman. Our Foreman messed up the transfers in the hurry to get out of the Scablands.”
“That was more than three days ago. Why have you not been reassigned?”
Just in time to avoid that question the shopkeeper arrived with an oily paper bag. “Here are your sweets. On the house as usual.”
The Patrolman looked at the bag, then Cara, and back to his partner outside, his radio squawked with the code for a traffic accident and brawl. He whispered clearly in to the shoulder mic, “Confirmed Kappa-Six en route. You girl, get your assignment squared away. Deep Harbor has no space for idle hands when busy ones are full.”
He grabbed the bag throwing it into his saddlebags and set off with sirens and lights on to the incident site. The portly shopkeeper gave her a small paper tray of the sugary fried dough, “Made some extra for you too skinny girl.” She reached for POGS, but was waved off, “No charge. Enjoy. Take another coffee too and continue your wanderings. However, if you want a new assignment I could use some help.” Another crowd of Sambar construction workers poured in for their morning break. “Doubt business will calm down anytime soon.”
Cara walked down to the docks with her sweet cargo in hand avoiding packed streetcars, dodging pedestrians, and micro-trucks attempting to bypass stopped delivery trucks by driving on the curb. This behavior didn't happen when the Patrol were around. Cara noticed they were quick to issue fines to Free Guild vehicles for even the most minor infraction. It was such a different and chaotic place than the Coyote garrison town of Belle's Wharf with its ordered Warrior camp and Cyne managing local interests. 
Arriving at the boardwalk she watched the waves come in and leave breaking on the jetty thrust into the Inland Sea to protect the recreational area nearby. While she ate her sweets on a bench she was deep in thought having never considered that the Coyotes might have impressed the entire civilian road transport fleet to support their deployment. She knew how many truckloads of material her Galaxy consumed in a week and heard locals complain about Coyote Warriors eating them out of house and home. Belle's Wharf more than doubled in population with Nu's Warriors and support teams.
Finishing her tray of cookies she said her thoughts aloud, “No wonder they want us to leave, but I don't want to go anywhere.”
A voice came from her side, “You don't have to go anywhere. I just want to sit.”
Cara looked over at the source of the mysterious voice, a svelte MedTech whose raven hair was mussed and sweaty and features were similar to her own suggesting a hybrid Aero-Mechwarrior heritage. Her white ambulance had a red Cameron Star painted on it and was just large enough to put one stretcher in the bed with a larger version of the Clan's LSSU trauma system on the cab top. “stretch my legs, and share a conversation with someone not crazed or twice as large as me.”
Eager for some company Cara patted the bench and the MedTech sat smoothing out her scrubs which had a small amount of blood on them and a stun gun poking out of one pocket, “You have no idea how many perfectly handsome men I had to stitch together today. Some were even imports all the way from the Inner Sphere,” she sighed, “what a waste.”
The stranger stopped for a moment, “Oh right I forgot to introduce myself how rude. I'm Mary and you are new around here.”
“How do you know? There are three hundred thousand people here.”
“True but not as many Foresters. They tend to cluster around the shipyard or construction sites. I spent a lot of time there for industrial accidents and the like. Less now that Sambar is taking over a part of it. Certainly makes my billing easier.”
“How long have you lived her?”
“About six months. Are you ever going to give me your name?”
Something was off about this MedTech but she wasn't sure if she was flirting or knew more than she was letting on. “I am Cara Forester.”
“Pleasure to meet you Cara.” Mary stood up stretching her body out to the sea and removed a card from her pocket. “If you ever need a checkup feel free to call me and make an appointment at the clinic. My door is always open,” she headed back to the ambulance, “assuming I'm there of course.”
The ambulance started without a sound and departed back toward the Shipyards. Cara looked at the strange woman's card which only had three lines made to appear handwritten on it, 'Mary MD, Pier 28 Free Clinic, Deep Harbor'
She felt something hard in it and extracted a data-chip hidden between the paper with tweezers conveniently left behind on the bench.
----------
Previous Chapter - Return to Story Index - Next Chapter
Category:The Other War Chapters
Category:Works by AlphaMirage