“How’s it going, my love?” Mike said, sitting up from his stool and approaching his wife. He pressed his hand against her back and leaned in to kiss her gently on the cheek.
“Careful, you’ll burn yourself,” Mai replied, swatting him away with affection that hadn’t dulled in all these years. Her eyes twinkled in the fluorescent light of the workshop as she looked up at him.
The smoke from the soldering iron coiled in a tight vortex before fading into the flow of air that permeated the cave system, along with the tangy metallic stink of burning flux.
“It’s nearly ready, wouldn’t you say so, Gib?”
The croatoan grunted a clear affirmative as he soldered what looked to be the final wire into place. He sat back and removed the goggles from his turtle-like face. Though they didn’t smile as much, the Unity-born croatoans had learned to make a gesture with their face that was as close to a smile as they were going to get.
“Radio requires calibration,” he said, pointing to an alien crystal emanating from the center of the circuit board.
“And how do we do that?” Mai asked.
“I have very special part. Rare and incredibly valuable.” Gib made his alien-smile again and reached into a pocket on his leather waistcoat.
Mike nodded in silent appreciation of the new garment—it was made by a croatoan and human couple within Unity. Using leather from scavenged clothes, they made these for the engineers. Over twenty pockets, loops and webbing made them supremely useful for carrying tools and parts.
Mike and Mai were so impressed with the design they had commissioned a matching pair for themselves.
“What is it?” Mike asked, wondering what new piece of alien technology he was going to learn about. If there was one positive of this whole terrible episode, it was learning about the alien tech. Mike just wished, with all his heart, the croatoans and humans could have tried a peaceful approach first rather than going straight to war, and ultimately defeat for everyone.
So much loss for so little gain.
“I show you,” Gib said. He brought his scaly hand out of the pocket, the mysterious item enclosed within his grip. “Behold!” Gib opened his hand and dropped the part onto the workbench.
Mike and Mai leaned forward eagerly to see what it was.
“Wait,” Mike said, picking it up. “This is it?”
Gib blinked, indicating it was.
“But… but this is just a plastic knob. What’s so amazing about this? How do you use it to calibrate?” He wondered if it was some kind of special polymer that worked with tachyon waves.
“I show,” Gib said, taking the part from Mike.
The alien leaned over the circuit board and clipped the plastic knob onto a standard-looking potentiometer—the usual kind found on most radios.
Mai burst out laughing when Gib turned the knob and the sound of radio static came from a speaker lying in amongst the debris of items.
Mike didn’t get it, so focused on what was so special.
“It is just a joke,” Gib said. “You not like joke?”
“I did,” Mai said. “You had us going for a moment there. You look confused, dear,” Mai said to Mike. “It’s a joke… the special calibration part is just a tuning knob.”
“Oh! I get it now,” Mike said, forcing a smile.
Gib seemed to understand that he wasn’t really in the mood for levity. He turned away and clicked the radio off. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought you looked sad. I hoped I might help make you laugh. I’m trying to work on my knowledge of human mood. My friend has been helping me with language and humor. He called this a misdirection joke. It was funny because it set an expectation that was different from the reality.”
Patting Gib on the arm, Mike nodded. “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just… I find it hard to laugh right now.”
“Okay, I understand. We continue to work.”
Gib turned his attentions back to the radio, but in truth there was little to do. Mike felt bad about upsetting him and moved back to his stool. Before he got settled, the echo of footsteps caught his attention.
He spun round to look past Hagellan’s throne, where the entranceway had been carved. Long shadows crept across the floor of the tunnel system. The shadows belonged to humans. Mike stood, wondering if someone was bringing news.
Ryan, the young guard who was stationed outside Charlie and Denver’s accommodation, entered the workshop. Aimee followed, wearing a low-key set of military fatigues.
“Did you hear from them? Is there news from Tredeya?”
“I’m afraid not,” Aimee said.
Mike sat back on the stool, deflated.
“What can we do for you?” Mai asked.
Aimee stepped further into the workshop and inspected the workbench. Ryan, with a rifle over his shoulder, waited behind her like a loyal pup.
“I just wanted to bring you all some supplies. I know you’ve been working hard on getting the radio up and running again, and thought you could do with something to eat.”
Ryan shrugged a pack off his back and brought it over to the workbench, dispensing its contents to any spare space he could find. Beef sandwiches and plastic tubs of stew soon made Mike’s stomach rumble.
“Thanks,” he said. “We appreciate it. We’ve made good progress, actually. The radio works, but we’ve not scanned any frequencies yet.”
“Then perhaps I’ve arrived at the right time,” Aimee said, reaching into a small bag attached to the belt around her waist. She handed a palm-sized black object to Gib. “One of our scouts found this. It’s from the wreckage of a hover-bike that belonged to one of the southern farms.”
Gib took the object and held it below the bench-top lamp.
“Perfect,” she said. “It’s the bike’s communication computer. From this we can get into the farm’s network.”
Aimee smiled with the news, her eyes crinkling at the edges. Despite all the years she had been kept in stasis and the anti-aging effects of the root, Mike could still tell from her eyes just how old she was. She had a sadness there that reflected his own. It was something that came from age, perhaps with the knowledge that no matter how bad things get, there’s always more loss to deal with. It’s the never-ending flipside to the lifecycle.
“Once inside,” Mai said, “we can use the radio to scan their frequencies. If what your scout saw is what we think, then it’ll help us figure out just what Augustus is up to.”
“Nothing good, that’s for sure,” Ryan said. “The man is raving mad. All the time I stood outside his chalet I would hear him ranting to himself about his empire and his plans.”
“Aye, he’s mad all right,” Mike said. “But history has shown us some of the maddest people manage to do incredible things. That kind of vision, as sick as it is, attracts loyal support.”
Aimee cocked an eyebrow.
“Not that I’m suggesting you’re like that,” Mike quickly added. “I’m referring to Augustus. With the humans and croatoans scattered and leaderless in the other farms, it wouldn’t be that difficult for Augustus to unite them.”
Gib connected the communication device to one of his croatoan computers and with surprising dexterity tapped in lines of code. After a few moments, he sat back from the computer screen and looked up at Aimee. “Their network needs more security to keep me out.”
“You’re in?” Aimee asked.
Gib nodded.
Mai and Mike looked at each other and shared a smile.
“So we have their encryption key and frequency?” Mike asked.
“Let us see,” Gib replied, hooking up the bike’s transceiver to the radio. A moment later he stood up, stepping away from the workbench. He looked at Mike. “You test?”