by Ben Rovik
“Just wondering about power-to-weight here,” she said, pressing her index finger down on the blue pencil sketch of the ranine coil box beneath the pilot’s seat.
“Ah.” Ensie put on her most professional expression and ran some calculations in her head.
Iggy left her finger on the page as she looked down at Ensie, her lips curling up in her weathered face.
“What’s on your mind, junior tech?” she said.
“Hmm? Well, I was just thinking you’re right; if we don’t make the coils strong enough for—”
“Ah-ah. You were just thinking something else,” Iggy said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Focused Ensie, Dependable Ensie, the only Aerial who knows how to do an honest day’s work. I think you’re distracted.”
“I’m not distracted, senior tech. I promise. We’ve got too much work for me to be distracted.”
“You thinking about going back to civilian life?”
“What? No. No, why?”
“Just trying to figure your interest in Upchuck’s Hydraulics, that’s all.”
“Upforth’s.”
The correction erupted involuntarily. Ensie turned bright red at the look of glee on Iggy’s face. “I was just making conversation,” she said. “I just want the civilians to feel, you know, welcome.”
Sir Tomas swept into their area just in time to give Ensie an excuse to stop babbling. The lean ‘naut had a cowl of gleaming black hair that framed his sharp features. The wrinkles around his eyes were unnaturally deep for someone his age; the lines of someone who’d celebrated his youth a little too vigorously, and was paying the price for it now.
“How’s our Flicker?” he murmured, pushing a fingertip against the machine’s curved wing. He spoke directly to the device rather than looking at the techs.
“Won’t fly too good now,” Iggy said, waving a hand through the space where the second wing would be. “But when we get it going it’ll turn a few heads.”
“Burn that,” Tomas swore casually as he flicked the metal tube. A dull ping died away quickly. “The Parade squad’s for people who just want to turn heads. If this concept machine’s not a viable option for manned flight, what are we doing making it?”
“Generally, you can’t tell if something is viable or not before it exists, Sir. Well, maybe you can; peons like me who didn’t buy their way into knighthood need to do experiments first.”
“Money well spent. Now I get to make important decisions, like whether or not a project is going to be an embarrassment to the squad I serve.”
“Get over yourself. The Flicker’s going to jump, and it’s going to be sensational. They’ll build a marble statue of you piloting it into a glorious future, and stick it in the middle of Parapet Square. The sculptor will even make you look halfway young. Anything else, Sir?”
Sir Tomas smiled a little and flicked a glance somewhere in the vicinity of Iggy’s ankle, which was about as close as he ever got to looking his techs in the face.
Ensie’s eyes were wide and white as gaslights. No matter how many rounds of acerbic Aerial give-and-take she sat through, it never got easier to listen to. There must be a workplace in this city where bosses are supportive and employees are respectful; where people who like each other don’t feel this compulsion to talk like there’s a blood feud on.
“Junior tech,” Tomas said, turning towards her, “your so-called superior is obviously drunk, which is both shameful and dangerous for a woman of her advanced age,” the ‘naut said, shoving his hands in his pockets. Iggy gave a single bark of laughter. Ensie wet her lips and made herself smile as Tomas went on. “I’m depending on you for a straight answer. Do you have what you need to make the Flicker fly?”
“Yes, sir—though we were, uh, just settling down to talk about the ranine coils, as diagrammed out here.”
“Flaming big apparatus,” Tomas agreed. “I thought the same thing when I went over the plans those idiots in drafting drew out.”
“It might work. There might be more than enough power. We just… I just don’t have enough experience with ranine pressurizers of this size to know if the Flicker will get meaningful loft with each leap. And if the jumps aren’t high enough—”
“The pilot might as well walk,” Iggy said, rubbing her tech on the shoulder. “I was figuring I’d talk to Recon and the Cavaliers. They push their coils the hardest when it comes to distance jumping.”
“Burn them. Your junior tech’s on to something. We’re talking a coil box that’s a half-meter cube here. Those firebounders in Recon or the flaming Cavs have little springs in their boots. Orders of magnitude different.”
“Fine. Who should I talk to, then?”
“There are all these civilians floating around. The party line from the Board of Governors is that some of them do impressive things. And everything they do is bound to be bigger, clunkier, and more muscular than what we come up with.”
Iggy raised an eyebrow. “You really think they know more about ranine coils than our guys do?”
“Look, Roulande, we’re supposed to be forging partnerships with these yahoos anyway. All I’m saying is, leave your junior tech plugging away with the wrench here, and you go out there and get a consultation from one of these workshops. Someone who works in steam pressure, or hydraulics, or—”
“I’ll go,” Ensie said.
They looked at her. Sir Tomas actually raised his eyes to her face.
“I mean, I could go.”
“Go what?” he asked.
“Go forge a partnership?” she offered quietly.
Sir Tomas frowned. “That’s a horrible idea. You belong with the metal and the sprockets and the quiet mouths, junior tech. Asking you to go talk to people? That’s a disaster waiting to—”
“Ease up there, Sir,” Iggy said. “You usually can’t be bothered to check in on our work more than one day a week. Don’t start micromanaging us now.”
“But come on, tech, you don’t seriously think it’s a good idea.”
“Ensie.” The lanky woman looked down at her junior tech, who was pink as a boiling shrimp from all this. Iggy spun her fingers in the air casually. “By any chance, do you have any leads on a civilian workshop that might know a thing or two about pressure mechanics?”
“Upforth’s Hydraulics, maybe?”
Tomas raised an eyebrow.
“Speed of the Spheres with you, young Ensie,” Iggy proclaimed. She rolled up the blueprints and handed them to Ensie. The tech cradled the blueprints in her arms like a glass vial of something caustic.
“…Now?”
“Yes, junior tech, now. We need this Flicker built to thrill. Time’s wasting, and we’ve got a boss to humiliate.”
Ensie opened her mouth, and closed it just as quickly. Nothing she could say would make this conversation any more pleasant, so she just nodded and dashed away to the far side of the hangar.
“You work with the odd ones, don’t you?” Tomas said, scratching a fingernail against his long chin.
“Yeah,” Iggy said, grinning over at him. “And Ensie’s a little strange too.”
Upforth hadn’t yelled at them for more than five minutes. Strange. Usually, he’s hovering so close we feel the breeze.
Cooper rubbed the small of his back as he stood up from the lumber pile and scanned the bustling floor. He spotted Upforth’s tan vest quickly, festooned with pockets and weighed down with tools he never used. The man wasn’t too far away after all. He had his back to Cooper, lost in an animated conversation with some poor soul or another. As he and Skye headed back to the cart in silence (only three more trips to go) the boss spun around and pointed straight towards them with one hand, as his other arm wrapped around the shoulders of—
“Guys, this is Ensie,” Upforth said, propelling the little Aerial along with him.
Cooper’s eyes widened. Her face was even softer than he’d remembered.
“Ensie, this is Skye. Cooper you already met, right?”
Right. Cooper n
odded, and so did she. He couldn’t manage to say anything. What is wrong with me?
“Her team’s looking for an expert hydraulic consultation on a concept flying machine. I don’t need to tell you two what an honor it is to have a Petronaut seek out our expertise on something. Again, Miss Ensie, I’m absolutely humbled.”
“Thank you. You’re welcome,” Ensie said, curling her fingers around the blueprints she was carrying.
Upforth actually bowed to her. Cooper stifled a groan. “Upforth’s is committed to giving your project one hundred ten percent of our best. My people just have a little more grunt work to do here, then Skye will meet up with you to hash out the first details. And as soon as I can break away from logistics here, I’ll join you to oversee the partnership myself—”
“I.”
It was part-word, part-bark, part-gulp. Whatever the sound was, it indisputably came from Cooper’s throat. He pressed his lips shut and tried to keep his hands still as Upforth blinked at him.
“As you can imagine, technician,” Upforth went on, keeping a close eye on Cooper, “we already have several feastday projects going in partnership with your Aerials and the Parade squad, so this new endeavor will have to fit in with existing commitments.”
“Of course, of course,” the Aerial murmured, giving Upforth a little flickering smile. Her bright brown eyes shifted over to Cooper and then down to the hangar deck. A wisp of red-brown hair drifted out of her snood and brushed her face.
Say something!
“My schedule’s clear,” Cooper said.
The cords in Upforth’s neck visibly tightened as he turned. “Mister Carper?” he said.
“Skye’s still got the float suspension on her docket—right? You’ve got Kini working on the trunk now. But you don’t have me assigned as Lead on anything.”
“There might be a reason for that, Mister Carper.”
Cooper ignored the warning flags and the steam gushing out of his boss’ ears. “I’m just saying it might be more convenient if—”
“At Upforth’s, we put service to the client above convenience to our employees,” Upforth said, turning his shoulder to Cooper as he looked down at Ensie. “That’s why Skye—”
“If I may,” Ensie said, raising a fingertip, “since I know how in-demand your company’s services are, I’d, uh, hate to think any of your other projects were delayed because we came by at the last minute.”
“Please, it’s no problem. Skye! You’re on track with the float suspension, right? Another project on your calendar won’t make a difference.”
Skye’s stony face spoke volumes. “I’ll make it work.”
Ensie tilted her head sympathetically. “Mister Upforth, I’m sorry. If you don’t have someone available right now, I’d hate to—”
“No, no no no,” Upforth said, raising a hand. The gears in his head were thundering audibly as he thought. With enormous reluctance, his gaze shifted from the Aerial tech—about to walk away with a prestigious job—over to Cooper. His eyes narrowed.
Cooper did his best not to make any sudden movements.
“Mister Carper can help you out with this first meeting as soon as this lumber gets moved,” he said through clenched teeth. “Skye is awfully busy. So busy, in fact, Skye, that you really ought to get back to work on the suspension. Carper can move the rest of this wood himself. Can’t you?”
They all looked at the cart, still laden with ten of the massive lengths of pine. Upforth laced his fingers together at his waist.
“Sure thing, sir,” Cooper said, putting on a smile.
“Where can he meet you, Ensie? Here in the hangar?”
“There’s, uh. My team’s got a drafting room. 26D. Out the back door, first building on your right, second door on the left.”
“He’ll meet you there in fifteen. And I’ll check in with you myself as soon as possible to make sure your experience is going well.”
Ensie nodded at Upforth, but her eyes were on Cooper’s face. “I think it will,” she said. Her voice was almost too delicate to be heard.
Cooper stayed rooted to the spot for a long moment as Ensie darted away, like a squirrel or a rabbit or something equally plush and big-eyed. He took in a deep breath through his nose and let it out with a snort as Upforth clapped in his face.
“And what was that?”
Cooper raised his hands, leaning away. He could smell Upforth’s pomade as the man came in uncomfortably close. “What in the black flames are you thinking, Carper?”
“I… nothing, sir—”
“Do you want to be the boss? Do you want to make personnel decisions? Are you gunning for my job, Carper?”
“No, sir, absolutely not.”
“You can’t do what I do. But there are a thousand people in this town who can do what you do, and I could hire any of them to replace you like that.” Upforth snapped in his face three times, moving his hand closer to Cooper’s nose each time. “You are replaceable. Say it.”
“I am replaceable.”
Upforth glared up at him. His tirade was losing traction in the face of Cooper’s submissive attitude. “That’s right,” he said, marking time as he waited for inspiration. “Talk yourself up like that in front of a client one more time and you’ll never work in the Row again.”
Cooper just stood there, shoulders slightly stooped, looking as unimposing as possible for a man of his size. Skye was long gone, shaking her head at the theatrics.
Upforth gave a series of vigorous nods, satisfied by the display of contrition. “Spheres help you if you screw this up, Carper,” he said. “I just hope you can muster up the brainpower to keep up with this Ensie. It’s gonna get real technical, real fast. Try not to pass out.”
“I’ll try not to pass out.”
“Good.”
The men stared at each other.
“Get this wood out of my face,” Upforth finally snarled, slapping one of the boards on its underside. The whole load rattled in the back of the cart. It was a sufficiently authoritative noise to make an exit on, so Upforth turned on his heel and went to make important gossip with the other civilian work bosses.
Cooper staggered towards the wall with a pair of four-meter beams tucked under his armpit. It was all he could manage to keep the lumber balanced without clocking any passers-by with the blunt wooden lance in front of him or the tail behind him. The wood was digging into his ribcage painfully, and he was sure his muscles would pay for the awkward position later that night. And yet, mysteriously, he couldn’t seem to keep a smile off his face as he worked his way to the wall and back.
The drafting room was cramped as a spheric’s cloistered cell. The six-by-ten box of a workspace was dominated by a lacquered desk, sized for the parchment sheets a drafter would fill with precise blue lines. Straight-edges, a protractor, and enough stencils to amuse a schoolhouse full of idle children hung from hooks on either side of the desk, and a wooden cup of fine steel-blue charcoal sticks rested in a corner of the angled work surface. A gaslight was embedded dead center in the low ceiling, though there was more than enough sunlight from the window to keep the room more in light than in shadow at this time of day.
Ensie smoothed out the dog-eared corner of the blueprints for the dozenth time. She shifted her weight on the bench, feeling the warmth of the sun on the back of her neck. She was too poor to own a watch, but she resisted the temptation to duck out into the hallway again and check the sepia-faced clock mounted on the wall. It had been 10:20 on the spot when she’d checked it moments ago. That meant that, by now, twenty-five minutes at most had passed since she’d left Mister Upforth and the rest of his team. And Upforth had said Cooper—or was it Carper?—would meet her in fifteen minutes. But the drafting room might be hard to find, for a civilian who’d never seen the Aerial compound before. And there had been an awful lot of wood left in that cart for just one person to move quickly. Even someone so tall, with those big arms and broad shoulders…
“You need to get a hold of yours
elf,” she said aloud, pressing her palm against the desk. She closed her eyes.
You’re an Aerial technician. Your ‘naut wants a consultation from a civilian firm. You’ve been trusted with getting information vital to the success of your project. This is Business with a capital B. Not some kind of private—
—and don’t you dare even finish that thought, because seriously: this is Business.
She scratched the space between her too-thick eyebrows as she looked at the door.
And even if it wasn’t Business, the morose thought crept through her defenses, it’s not as if anything’s going to happen. Any friendly vibes you’re getting are because he’s good at his job. Do you really think that there’s anything about you that would inspire unprofessional thoughts in a civilian guy like him? When he’s meeting all the other wisecracking Aerial girls and the Parade squad knockouts on the same day? Count yourself lucky you’re getting to talk to him at all. You’re just—
The door inched open. Ensie leapt to her feet behind the desk. There he was.
“There you are,” she said, rubbing her hands against her hips.
“So sorry,” he mumbled, turning sideways to come through the narrow door. He sounded a little out of breath. “I… I thought I heard you say ‘third building on the right,’ but I must have misheard. That’s actually the, uh, fuel center, I learned, where you guys are doing some crazy things with petrolatum…”
“Oh, gosh, you went to the refinery?”
“Yeah, through a back door. Got a little turned around with the fumes. But then someone—I forgot his name—pointed me here…”
“Spheres, I led you to the refinery without a mask! I am so sorry. I don’t know why I… I meant to say ‘first building on your—’”
“You did. I’m sure you did. I just heard it wrong—”
“No, no, I’m sure I said… I don’t know what I said!”
“Listen, with these ears, all bets are off. It’s a miracle I’m here at all.”
“It is.”
They stood facing each other with their hands flat against their hips. The sunlight illuminated the lower halves of their bodies.