Chương 41: Ch 24b - Outside

Ahead of them Erro emerges from the hanger doors rolling an enormous metal barrel across the threshold and onto the dirt road. It gathers speed down the small incline from the building but he deftly grabs one edge and pivots the barrel to stay in line with the curve of the road, preventing a drop into the bushes.

"And that," Magse says, pointing at Erro's labour, "is why Erro volunteered to walk with you outside and why I pulled rank on him." She gives Cara a cheeky smile.

"There are seventeen of those barrels that Crathsun wants moved by the end of the day."

"What's in them?" Cara asks, happy to not only be outside but to be having a normal conversation, one that isn't about shards or Visitors or rules.

"An alkaline cleaning agent I think," Magse says, "They're being destroyed as part of the site closure." Erro comes to an abrupt halt, almost head-butting the chest-high barrel which had stopped suddenly. He swears loudly.

"I thought that was just a cover for bringing me here?" Cara asks, "Vheece has actually asked you to decommission this site?" Magse's smile fades, "Vheece likes things to be done first time. We are the first team he has sent here so we get the job." Erro has spotted them walking towards him and uses it as an excuse to stop wrestling with the barrel.

"Plus," Magse continues, "Wyndeer likes to keep busy."

"And a busy Wyndeer is a happy Wyndeer, and a happy Wyndeer makes a happy team," Erro chimes, joining their conversation.

"Or not," he adds, wiping sweat from his forehead and giving the barrel a half-hearted kick. He has removed his top and has worked up a full sweat despite the cool temperature. He is skinnier than Wyndeer and Draig, of course, everyone is skinnier than Crathsun, but Erro's torso is still sculpted in defined muscle. His abs, Cara notes, are far more impressive than any she has ever seen at her gym.

Also, unlike most of the men who paraded with their tops off at her city gym, his torso alludes to hazards most office workers probably never face. Symmetrical scar tissue carves thick neat lines over both his shoulders, two puckered dips mar the left side of his ribs, and there is an unnatural patch of discolouration under one arm.

"Have you finished your walk and come to help?" he asks hopefully.

"We're only getting started, Erro," Magse replies happily, "How many barrels have you managed?"

"Number seven right here," Erro says slapping the top of the barrel with a dull thunk.

"Want to give me some help getting it going again?" He gives them a hopeful grin.

"Sure," Cara pipes up before Magse can answer. Having spent most of the day standing in the cold hall holding a shard and explaining to an increasingly irate Wyndeer that whilst she can now activate the shard at will, she still doesn't know how to use it, she is happy for any other activity, even pushing barrels.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Magse says.

"It's a great idea," Erro declares, already beckoning Cara to take up a position behind the barrel.

"Magse, can you kick away whatever rock or thing is blocking it on the other side?" Dimples bloom on Erro's cheeks as he smiles encouragingly at Cara.

"Place your hands like this," he says, making room for her and stretching out his arms. He spreads his hands, adorned in thick protective gloves, on the barrel. The surface of the barrel is freezing cold; Cara quickly pulls her sleeves over her hands and retakes her position.

"Ok, you're clear," Magse calls from the other side of the barrel.

"Ready?" Erro asks, "It's a little tough to get started, but once it is I can take it from there. Three, two, one, go!" Cara pushes hard at the barrel. It remains steadfast in position. Erro lets out a chuckle then dips his head, letting out a grunt as he strains against the barrel. She feels a little give and tries to push harder, digging her toes into the dirt. The barrel slowly begins to turn. Erro grunts again and the barrel picks up its pace.

"Almost got it," Erro grunts. The barrel begins to pivot on Cara's side. He slides his hand between hers to correct the direction. The barrel eases into a trundle along the road. Erro lets out a whoop.

"Thanks Cara!" he shouts as he quickens into a jog, steering the barrel as he goes.

"I'm not sure I actually did anything," Cara mutters to Magse.

"I think Erro appreciated the gesture." She indicates with her head, "Let's carry on with the tour before he asks you to help with the next one." Brushing off rusty and dust from her sleeves Cara falls into step with Magse.

"That's the back of the hall," Magse says pointing at the corner they have just rounded.

"These, I believe, were additional labs. Flavitt's just finished the inventory of what remains in them. Crathsun will probably get us moving stuff out of them tomorrow." Three mismatched extensions have been built onto the back of the building. Windowless, with large faded-black doors, they have been designed for function not appearance. The dirt road they are following opens out into a wide lot bordered on one side by the main outpost building and on the other by a row of detached two story buildings.

Each building has rounded edges and seamless frosted windows in a similar style to those on Xiatt. Cara can't stop herself from quickly checking the sky for a dome.

"Those are mostly additional accommodation," Magse says dismissively.

"And behind them is the dump where we've been leaving all the non-recoverable inventory." Beyond the back of the lot, as with the left side of the main building, the land stretches on endlessly towards the horizon. Some way in the distance Cara can make out silver vertical lines.

"Is that a fence?" she asks.

"Yes," Magse replies.

"It stretches all the way around until it meets the cliffs at the base of the mountains. Cara looks to the side of the lot, towering in the distance are dark rocky mountains that grow from a series of steep cliffs.

"It took nearly two days, but Crathsun and I got the power grid hooked back up to the fence, it's 87% functional now."

"I'm surprise this place needs a fence," Cara ponders out loud, "Wyndeer said there wasn't anything around."

"No settlements, that's right," Magse concurs.

"But we still don't want anything wandering in from the moor. That's where Crathsun and Wyndeer went, to patch up some of the holes."

"Why, what's on the moor?" Magse looks away and shrugs, "The usual," she says dismissively.

"Wyndeer said you're not to go beyond this lot." She carries on, changing the subject, "And not into any of these additional buildings."

"Got it." Cara puts her head down and kicks idly at the dirt. They turn the corner, bringing them back towards the sea. She hopes Magse intends to loop all the way around the front of the building and not finish the walk at the upcoming side door. The sun is getting low; Cara wants to finish the day outside. Hopefully, she thinks, Wyndeer will think it is too late for more shard trials when he returns from repairing the fence. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere.

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"Were you the pilot when we were on Xiatt?" Cara asks, starting a fresh conversation to keep the walk going.

"Yes. And I flew us here," Magse replies with a touch of pride.

"So, is that your role? In the team, I mean."

"Yes, pilot is my primary role. I'm also part medic, part engineer."

"Impressive," Cara says. Overachiever, she would have light-heartedly joked if she'd been talking to a friend. She pushes away the pang of sorrow that accompanies the thought and refocuses on the conversation.

"Is that how the team works, everyone has multiple roles?"

"We're a standalone team so we have to be well rounded," Magse reflects.

"Crathsun covers logistics, training, combat." She ticks them off on her fingers as she talks, "Erro is our target specialist, comms, and also an engineer. And Wyndeer, well, he's our leader; team, strategy and planning."

"And what sort of stuff do you normally do? When you're not looking after," she stumbles on her words, "you know, people like me?"

"That, I cannot talk to you about," Magse says, her mouth forming a thin flat line.

"Let's just say anything that requires some discretion and a small specialist team. Though that does not," she frowns, "usually include decommissioning old outposts." Cara nods, "And Vheece-""I'm not going to talk to you about Vheece, Cara." Magse cuts her off. Cara dips her head, swallowing down her desire to probe for more information. They continue their walk in silence, crossing in front of the wall of windows, threading their way along the trail she had watched Erro jog.

A cold wind blows off the sea, tugging at Cara's hair and numbing her ears. She pulls up the large collar of the coat Magse had given her, sheltering her ear and most of her face too. The arms of the coat are too long, as with most of the clothing she has been provided with. Magse had shown her how to scrunch and clip the lower portion of the material so that it gathered comfortably at her elbow. It is designed to ensure the wearer has unrestricted access to their cuffs.

Cara had pulled the sleeves back down soon after they had stepped outside, she has no need to access her cuff. When she asked Magse if she always wore her cuffs Magse had given her a puzzled look. They have turned the corner again and are approaching the hangar doors. Cara turns to the other woman to confirm she is willing to repeat the loop. Magse is not at her side but has stopped a few meters back. With her shoulders hunched against the wind, she is talking into a cupped hand at her mouth.

Cara waits, absently examining the nearby shrubs. Most are below knee height, stunted in their growth by the strong winds. One plant however, growing close to the side of the building, has managed to match her height. Its thick, pale leaves are waxy to the touch, reminding her of the small succulents that she grows on her patio. Memories slam into her, flooding her mind and drawing a heavy lump into her throat.

Jenny had bought the zinc bucket with its pre-potted succulent selection when Cara had moved into the flat. A housewarming gift for her first solo home. She'd thrust it at Cara as she walked in the front door already murmuring excited complements about how cosy the little one bed was, despite not yet having had a tour. Tears stream down Cara's face as grief and loneliness overwhelm her.

"Wyndeer wants some help, " Magse announces, walking over. Cara takes a hurried breath as she wipes at her eyes, grateful that the coat collar hides her face from view. She turns away from Magse, buying a few more seconds before the woman sees her face.

"Oh, ok," Cara mumbles in acknowledgement, fighting the shake in her voice.

"I told Wyndeer I'd leave you in the hall with Erro," Magse states, walking past Cara without a glance, straight to the hangar doors.

"Sure," Cara wipes a final tear from her eye, pushing the memories out of her thoughts by flooding her mind with everything that is physically in front of her. She announces each item to herself as she re-enters the hall. Three barrels. Two crates. A stack of empty shelves. Two more barrels. Multiple green boxes. Large sacks. Heavy scuff marks on the floor. Two trunks. A carpet of gym mats. A long rope. Draig. …… Cara walks reluctantly over to the gym area.

A lack of seating and the cold air blowing in through the open hanger doors means retreating to the back of the hall is the better option. Erro isn't in the hall, presumably he is still guiding a barrel somewhere. Magse had drawn Draig's attention, pointed at Cara, then indicated that she was leaving. She had patted Cara on the shoulder and whispered, " Sorry it will have to be Draig, Erro will be back soon, I'm sure." Then she had gone.

Cara rewraps the coat around her as she walks, hugging the insulating fabric close. Draig stands before her holding a large hexagonal weight straight out in front of him. Turning it left and right like he is steering a large boat. Cara quickly abandons her distraction tactic of silently announcing what she can see as it inadvertently leads her mind to another place she'd rather it wasn't. One weight. A pair of short shorts. Thick thighs. Bulging muscle. Tight arse.

Looking across the hall, she tries to find something else to focus on. The two stacked trunks remain in the centre of the open space. She shudders, not wanting to think about the shards either. She had stood there for hours trying to learn how to use the shards, at times getting dizzy from too many short breaths or holding her breath too long. She has mastered activating and deactivating the shard but has discovered nothing further about how to use it.

It is hard, she thinks, to learn how to use something when you don't know what it is used for. It is like giving a laptop to a caveman. It could be a frisbee, a seat, a plate. How likely is it that a caveman would work out how to boot up Windows? Wyndeer had been relentless, insisting she try to move objects, pointing out that that was what she had done in the bunkhouse. She had moved objects; the coffee table had moved, the sofa too. She had also moved people.

She never wanted to move people again and thankfully Wyndeer hadn't suggested it. Yet.

"Finished your walk already?" Draig asks, breaking into her thoughts. He has put down the weight and is shaking out his arms.

"Wyndeer needed Magse for something," she mutters, coming to a halt just before the gym mats. Amusement dances in his eyes, "So, it's my turn to watch you now, is it?"

"Observe. It's your turn to observe me. Wyndeer's very particular about the word," she says dryly.

"Actually, I've been passed on to Erro, but he's off pushing barrels somewhere." Draig snorts. She hovers uncertainly at the edge of the mats. There are two benches, but both are next to where he stands. The idea of sitting so close to Draig unsettles her. Sweat glistens in his hair and along the top of his slightly open mouth. She forces herself to take an interest in one of the ropes.

"You're welcome to join me for some training. Do you want to climb a rope?" he asks. She looks over sharply to see if he is mocking her. There is no smirk or jaunty raise of an eyebrow. She has never climbed a rope in her life and, despite the shard's healing, doubts she has the upper body strength to do so. Nevertheless, she steps forward, as if to examine the rope while she considers the idea.

"No boots on the mat," he chides. She looks down at her boots and across to his bare feet.

"Oh, well," she steps back, feigning disappointment, "another time."

"Or you could take them off?" he suggests, a small grin teasing at his lips. She wiggles her toes inside her boots; they are semi-frozen ice cubes. She shakes her head, "Too cold," she says.

"Cold?" Draig asks with a frown.

"Yup," she confirms drily, wondering what part of her hugging her coat tightly hasn't given it away.

"Gask said Earthers appear to have a higher body temperature," he comments, ignoring her scornful tone.

"You probably feel the cold more." She bristles.

"I thought Argatta said I'm the same as you?"

"She said we are biologically similar. The differences are minimal. Same skeletal structure, same organs, same muscles and so on. Average body temperature, oxygen saturation, hormone balance, bone density – they are the types of differences. All factors that change with planet environment." He seems unperturbed by the subject.

"Exactly how many of us have you studied to be able to work out those differences?" she asks in alarm.

"Not protocol," he answers. She rolls her eyes.

"Are you still doing that?" She hugs the coat tighter and looks back down the long room. Still no sign of Erro. He sits down on a bench, his feet either side of the weight he discarded.

"I believe you still have banked questions, if you want to ask me something else," he offers.

"Fine," she sighs for effect but feels her irritation soften, secretly pleasantly surprised he has remembered. She tilts her head back, studying the top of the ropes suspended over the gym area as she tries to think of a question he will be willing to answer.

"What is a body contract?" she asks, thinking of the argument he had had with Wyndeer and Vheece on the Wixam. Draig looks both surprised and displeased with her question. He clears his throat and says flatly.

"A body contractor is a person who hires out their Trisec skill set for a private purpose."

"Like a bodyguard?" He hesitates, "Yes, they could be contracted as a bodyguard."

"And why does Wyndeer dislike body contracts?"

"Because Wyndeer is a very loyal man," he answers bitterly.

"The only way to work privately is to spurn all Trisec units; to operate as an individual, not as a team. To protect the integrity of the units, once it's done it can't be undone." He is staring hard at the weight on the floor. His hands grip the edges of the bench as if he is in danger of being blown off it.

"I think you've used up your questions," he growls, rising abruptly to pick up the weight. He moves over to the corner, replacing the weight in the stack with a loud clang. Cara shrinks back at his reaction, unsure if she should apologise for her question or leave him be. Stomps sound out at the far end of the hall as Erro trudges back in. He hails her with an upheld hand.

"Five more," he yells, as he starts tugging at the next barrel. Cold seeps up Cara's tense body. She flexes her stiff legs.

"If it's ok, I think I'll go sit in the rec room," she says to Draig's back.

"It's warmer there."

"Fine," he says, hefting up a triangular weight with a grip handle embedded in it. He doesn't bother to look up as she leaves the room.