“When fully up and running we should see as many as ten plates a minute coming off this line. Four lines will be operating at once. Each of the other domes here at Fireburg will be running their own.”
Tawn asked, “How many plates to cover the dome?”
“I’ve been told that number is just under a million. We have two kilometers in diameter by three hundred meters height in the center. Will take three weeks to manufacture those at full output. For comparison, construction of a destroyer requires about fifty thousand of these plates.”
Harris studied the operation. “How long before we’re at full rate production?”
The colonel smiled. “If we have everything set up right, today. If the output from this line is deemed satisfactory, the other three will begin their own processing.”
“We must have quite the stockpile of chlorine and magnesium for those vats. Is that mined here?”
The colonel shook his head. “We’ve identified the necessary resources. Gathering those from here is still months away. In the meantime we’ve been ferrying those two materials in from Domicile on a regular basis for the last month. That’s been what most of your escort duty was covering. We have enough of that material at the moment to keep these four lines running for about six weeks. We’ll continue to ferry it in during that time of course.”
The first of the thick, heavy plates rolled off the line and was placed onto the first available pallet. Two minutes later, the full pallet was pulled to the side for a series of short tests. A thumbs-up was given as a result.
The colonel placed his massive hand on Harris’ shoulder. “You mentioned lunch? Looks like this might be a good time for it. About two hours from now we should see a pallet coming off those lines every thirty seconds on average.”
Harris nodded. “An impressive feat, Colonel. You should all be commended for making this happen.”
“You two are the ones who should be commended. You brought this all about, not us.”
Harris chuckled. “Might have been our idea, but it’s your hard work out here that made it happen.”
Tawn said, “You two done fluffing each other’s skirts?”
Harris laughed. “You hungry now?”
“I was fine until you mentioned it.”
The colonel nodded toward the cafeteria. “Let’s go get this over with. I have defenses to plan for.”
***
For the three weeks that followed, the Bangor ran escort duty for a near continuous stream of freighters ferrying in workers and materials. The second dome was receiving its crown and the first was nearing completion of its titanium outer skin.
The colonel came over the comm. “The Rumford well will be producing come this time tomorrow.”
Harris asked, “You have an invasion planned? You mentioned sabotage before. We ready if they hit back?”
The colonel nodded. “As ready as we can be. Hopefully, it won’t come to that. We found a way to shut their well down without firing a single plasma round.”
Tawn asked, “How are you managing that?”
“We’ve been busy using our brains. Their well is located in a shallow valley that runs directly toward their mine. We found a spot about a kilometer from the wellhead. We constructed a building—roughly a hundred square meters—and camouflaged it. It’s a mini-dome of sorts. We powered it, cooled it, and dug a side well, running at an angle. It intercepts their well at about a kilometer and half depth. We tapped into it yesterday.”
Tawn returned a confused look. “You planning to divert the water, or foul it?”
“We’re plugging it. We tapped into two spots ten meters apart. Two rubber bladders were inserted and blown up. We then pumped in a limestone cement that matches the substrate of that depth. Plug should be hardened enough to withdraw the bladders in about two hours. When they open that well into their pipe, they’ll get a trickle at best.”
Harris nodded. “Genius. How long before they have it cleared?”
“Minimum of a day. And it only takes us three hours to plug it again if needed. Best part is our side well offers a bypass. We can bring their production up and down whenever we want. They disassemble the wellhead, insert the laser drill, shove it down the pipe, and just before it reaches our plug we divert full flow through our tap. We can push that laser drill all the way back to the surface.”
Tawn asked, “What if they drill another well altogether?”
“We drill a matching well. We need to be within six kilometers of their well to tap in. Unless they place a wellhead out in the middle of flat plain, we should be able to dig our own counter-well. The terrain all around the Rumford claim is uneven. With our wellhead hidden, I think we can keep this game running for some time.”
Harris grinned. “That just makes my day, Colonel. Who’s our genius that came up with that one?”
“Fritz Romero. He said they used that technique to plug the well at the Jebwa colony so the Earthers couldn’t make use of it. It apparently worked, as none of them came back to settle there after the raid. I can only guess they didn’t have well drilling equipment of their own.”
Tawn cut in: “How long before the next freighter will be coming in?”
“Six hours,” replied the colonel.
Tawn looked to Harris. “Sounds like a chance to go check on our first mates.”
Harris spoke into the comm. “Colonel, we’ll be back before the next freighter comes through. Will check back in then to see how all this is going.”
“It’s well under control, Mr. Gruberg. Take your time.”
***
Harris followed Tawn into the warehouse.
A giddy Gandy rushed over to meet them. “The drive is going in now. I can’t believe they got it to us so quick. Mr. Morgan and his group bought their company.”
“You saying this could fly soon?” said Tawn.
Gandy nodded. “Real soon. We have the other systems in. It’s now just a question of whether or not they all play nice together. The checks we’ve done so far say they should.”
Trish walked up, her arms covered in grease from her hands up to her shoulders. “It’s in. They’re welding it in place.”
Smoke billowed from the back of the fighter as the welding team began its work.”
Harris winced. “It supposed to be doing that?”
“Just burning off some of the grease we had to use to force it in there. Won’t hurt anything. Whatever is left will burn off and blow out of there as carbon once that drive is in use.”
“All the connections made?” asked Gandy.
“They are.”
Gandy turned back toward the fighter. “My turn.”
Harris began to follow.
Gandy glanced over his shoulder as he walked.
“You need something?”
Harris said, “If it’s up and running, I’d be happy to pilot it for you.”
Gandy stopped. “You wouldn’t dare. Flying one of these has been a lifelong dream. You’d take that away from me?”
Harris laughed. “Wasn’t trying to steal your thunder.”
“Then don’t.”
The Biomarine turned back, joining Trish and Tawn at the usual sitting spot on a set of empty crates. “Your brother’s getting vicious.”
“He’s waited his whole life for this.”
Harris chuckled. “Whole life? What’s that? A couple years?”
“You know what I mean. The Banshee is his dream. Let him enjoy this moment.”
Harris raised his hands. “Fine. What are you people so touchy about?”
Trish huffed and stomped off toward the refurbished fighter.
Tawn sighed. “You wanted to fly it, didn’t you?”
Harris replied, “I did. It is a cool looking craft.”
Tawn smirked. “What are you, like fifteen or something?”
“Didn’t you know? Men don’t mentally age beyond that point. I thought all you ladies had that in your handbook.”
“We do. Was just chec
king.”
Gandy held up a thumb from the cockpit. “Power is on! Systems are reporting in!”
Trish stood on a wing, looking over the console readouts. “It says all green. That can’t be right. That was too fast.”
“Mr. Morgan did get us the newest model computer system. All the components do a self check and report back the instant power is applied. Now get off the wing. I’m taking her out.”
Trish scowled. “That’s not safe. We don’t even know if this drive works yet. It’s the prototype.”
Gandy flipped several switches and twisted a knob. The Banshee lifted off the ground, hovering a meter in the air.
Trish said, “You aren’t seriously taking this out, are you?”
Gandy pointed toward the floor. “I suggest you hop down. Unless you plan on wing-surfing while I fly.”
Trish let out a long breath. “Just be careful, OK? You don’t know how she handles yet. I don’t want to be having to put up a marker where you came down and dug a pit in the ground with some dumb maneuver.”
Gandy grinned. “I promise to be cautious. Don’t want to be the first person to die in a Banshee since they were last used.”
Trish hopped to the ground. The cockpit quickly closed and sealed.
Gandy pulled on a flight helmet and opened a comm. “Shoot. I can’t believe I forgot to come up with a name for her. How can I take her out if she doesn’t have a name?”
Trish laughed. “Just call it whatever you want. We can change it later when we register it.”
Gandy asked, “Miss Freely, what’s a good name for a Banshee?”
“Please don’t call it the Boleman,” said Harris. “Give it something with class or meaning.”
Gandy scowled. “Well, that leaves out the Gruberg too, doesn’t it.”
Tawn said, “You’ve wanted to fly one your whole life. How does it make you feel to be sitting there?”
“Like I want to pee my pants I’m so excited, but I’m not using that.”
Tawn crossed her arms. “OK, how about something along the lines of ‘defiance’ or ‘boldness’ or ‘rage.’ Feeling any of those?”
Gandy thought for a moment. “Rage. I like that. Good name for a Banshee. We’ll go with Rage.”
The warehouse doors were pulled open. The Rage began to move slowly forward.
After taking ten seconds to move ten meters, Trish said, “When I said be careful I didn’t mean that careful. Come on or we’ll all be old before you get out the door.”
Gandy replied, “Roger that, ground control. This is the Rage. We will be going skyward momentarily.”
“Confirmed, Rage,” said Trish. “Now get a move on. My hair’s turning gray out here.”
With a hard rush of air, the Rage rocketed out of the warehouse before turning skyward. Trish was nearly blown to the floor.
Gandy came back as he flipped the ancient fighter over, leveling off. “Woo hoo! That was awesome.”
“The afterwash almost blew me over,” said Trish.
Gandy flipped the control-stick, sending the craft through a series of barrel rolls before making a hard arc back toward the warehouse. “She handles like a dream! Smooth and quiet! I so want to fire this railgun right now.”
Harris hopped off his crate. “Not a good idea. We can do testing of that once we’re far away from here. Why don’t you take her up to space for a minute and then bring her back. I’m sure Morgan’s people would like to check over the performance data in the morning.”
“Roger that on the space test. Heading up now.”
The Rage turned hard upward. The gentle blue sky of Domicile quickly turned to the ultra-blackness of space. After several random maneuvers, the Banshee turned for home.
Trish, Tawn, and Harris moved to the door. They watched intently as a small fireball grew to ten meters across. It then extinguished as the fighter slowed before pulling to a perfect stop at a meter off the ground. The smoldering Banshee taxied up. The cockpit canopy opened. Gandy grinned.
Chapter 12
_______________________
The next few hours saw Harris, Trish, and Tawn taking the Rage out for a ride. Each returned with a smile on their face.
Harris said, “Hard to believe you just put that together and it flies like that first time out.”
Trish nodded. “Mr. Morgan’s mechanics are top notch. And our friends were an unstoppable force. Too bad they’ll never know the railgun works. They would absolutely love to see it fire.”
Tawn said, “You kept that separate from Morgan’s people too, right?”
“I did, as I was told over and over to do. The others don’t have a clue. The autofeeder snaps into place. I only dropped it in after they left. I’ll pull it before they come in tomorrow.”
“It won’t be here for them tomorrow,” Harris said. “We’re pushing it into service today. The Rage will be taking over escort duty, leaving us free for whatever else is needed. Have you looked over the second Banshee yet?”
Gandy replied, “Needs just as much work, but nothing we can’t do. How cool will it be to have our own little fleet of these flying?”
Harris nodded. “Very cool.
“The colonel is about to make a move against Baxter’s mine,” said Tawn. “Once that happens, we may be wishing we had a thousand of these.”
Gandy looked over the rough hull of the next ship. “We can make more. The Banshee hulls were produced by a hugely expensive welding machine that no longer exists. But Mr. Morgan thinks we may be able to carve a hull out of a solid piece of titanium. If that can be done, we can build your thousand.”
Harris shook his head. “For now we’ll have to limit our numbers. The Banshee was a warship. It looks like a warship. If people see it they will call it a warship.”
Tawn said, “We aren’t fighting a war here. At least not an official one. For now let’s just keep our focus on getting the hulls we have flying. If we need a thousand later, we’ll worry about building them then.”
Trish and Gandy got to work on the second hull.
Harris pointed at the Rage. “You want to try out the wormhole generator or should I?”
“Where we going?”
“We need to get back to Eden before the freighter comes through. And I’d like to turn this ship over to the colonel to staff. The sooner it’s flying, the sooner we’re free.”
Tawn frowned.
Harris asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I just hate the thought of turning this over so soon after we got it. And I know that thought will bother Trish and Gandy as well. It’s their sweat and tears in that thing.”
Harris nodded. “And they can take solace in the fact that it will be put to good use and well cared for. Which one you want to fly?”
Tawn took a step toward the Rage. “The new one, of course.”
The Bangor lifted from the warehouse district with the Rage following close behind. Once in free space, Tawn attempted to use the refurbished Banshee to open a wormhole to Eden.
“Hey, this generator isn’t working.”
Harris frowned. “Just follow me through then. I want to get it onstation for escort duty. Whoever’s flying it won’t need a portal anyway. Only has to cover from the incoming jump to the ground. When the next one comes out, we can send this one back to be fixed.”
Tawn followed Harris through, staying in orbit as a freighter was due from Domicile. Harris, in the Bangor, returned to the dome.
A short walk had him standing in the colonel’s office with Farker at his heel.
The colonel chuckled. “That dog go everywhere with you?”
Harris nodded. “He’s a lifesaver. What’s the latest on the Rumford situation?”
“The well has been repeatedly opened and shut. The outward appearance is the Earthers are confused as to what’s happening. We even staged a phony assault on the pipeline just to make them think we think it’s fully operational. They have to fly water in from the well at Boxton.”
Harris sat
forward. “What’s the chance we can do the same side-drill on the Boxton well? And for that matter, at Dove? Without water the people at both would have to leave. Could allow us to take over the government with just the people we have here.”
The colonel leaned back in his chair. “Interesting thought. I hadn’t considered the Dove angle. Boxton is off limits. There aren’t any valleys or crevasses nearby where we could start our own wellhead.”
“How close did you say you have to be to drill?”
“Six kilometers. Seven at most.”
“What’s the closest point to Boxton?”
The colonel thought. “Mmm. Maybe twelve kilometers.”
“Can we dig tunnels?”
“For what purpose?”
Harris sat forward. “We start at the twelve kilometer location with a long tunnel. When we get it close enough, we make a big underground chamber and start your well drilling.”
The colonel slowly scratched the side of his face. “Digging a tunnel that length would take us months. And we’d have nowhere to put the tailings. Managing the tailings coming from a wellhead are troublesome enough. From a tunnel… not going to happen. But keep going. You’re on fire this morning.”
The colonel rocked back and forth in his chair. “This Dove thing… that could work to our favor in multiple ways. If we manage to control their well, they would either leave, or worst case we provide them with water. Might alleviate some of the pressure they are feeling to impose taxes. Not pressure… more like desire.”
Harris said, “Should their water run dry we would of course offer free resettlement back to Domicile… no… wait. What if we re-enable Fritz Romero’s colony on Jebwa and offer to move them all there? They’d have farms sitting at the ready, and a climate that is far more friendly than living in this oven we have here.
“With a little work that colony could easily hold all twenty thousand of them. And they’d have room to grow. And with no government there to speak of now, they could again form their own. From what I understand, the Earthers who attacked have all gone.”
The colonel looked around Harris on either side. “Who pulled the Gruberg I know and replaced him with you? That is a brilliant plan. Let’s call in Mr. Romero and get his opinion as to Jebwa’s readiness.”
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