Nobody said Rock Hauling would be easy. Throughout settled space, terraforming is the fuel that drives the interstellar economy. For some worlds, this is easy. For others, lacking resources, or on the periphery, this is an unattainable dream. Throug...
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CHAPTER III Carcosa I
"Are you serious? You really want me to bring that crap out?" "I want you to do your job," Braden's expression was doubtful at best. At worst, it was defiant. "Cheif, Roolu's drones can get us on that asteroid easily enough, but that radar kit Dessia put on our roster is the shittiest fucking gear I've ever-"
Carcosa cut him off, crossing his arms. "Dessia knows what she's doing when she choses what you shitchucks bring out there. It's her job. And you'll do your job just fine with the material we have. It's not like we can take a little trip down to the corner store and get a better ground scanning kit." He stamped around, turning to face the odd two dozen void jockeys he'd assembled, all veteran rockjumpers. His 'crack team' as he liked to call them. "You all agree? We should do our jobs and not whine about it?"
The lot of them stood mag-locked to the deck of the Caroline Rowland's fore loading bay where he'd called them to gather for the pre-jump meeting. The immense room was far more cramped than it usually would be, with kilometer upon titanium kilometer of thin coiled cables taking up well over half of the available space, and rods of extra fuel, packed away in their heavy lead casings, took up the rest. The assembled engineers and mechanics that compromised his four demolitions teams made various noises and motions of assent. Hakhhahn, the Chharic who would be carrying the majority of the explosives for Team Three let out a series of short snarls and barks around its tusks. Carcosa's language engram took a millisecond to unpack what the sounds meant and translate them into intelligible Glossic
"Will do, yes." He wouldn't have expected anything less from the short, hound-faced alien. Hakhhan loved blowing things up. Typical Chharic straightforwardness. Braden, however, shook his head. "Chief, we can do this, but I need more time to bring down the heavier-"
Carcosa didn't let him finish. "You'll do as you're told, rockjumper. You've got an easy job. Ground penetrating scans aren't hard. Just make sure we blow the charges in the right places." Braden made a face and put his hands on his hips. "I don't like the older models. You have to wear a power pack, and it bumps up against the helmet all fucky. And when you turn on the laser it runs out half your suit power." A young voice piped up from the back of the group "Come on Braden, we can't carry the bigger models on the toboggan. We don't have enough people for a two-person Ground-scan team. Just wear the backpack." It was Amanda, their mechanic.
Braden tossed his hair and rolled his eyes, obstinate. Carcosa kept his arms crossed. The team would listen to him when he went off on one of his old soldier stories or if he yelled at them enough, but Amanda usually had a way with people. She was nicer. Over the last year or so, he'd come to rely on her lighter, gentler hand at dealing with people more often. Saved him breath he'd have otherwise spent shouting.
Braden crossed his arms.
Guess nice isn't how we do it today, then. He stepped up to Braden, boots clanking on the deck. The kid was taller than him. Not that it mattered. If it came to a fight -and it wouldn't- they all knew who would win.
