“Kenneck. Honest review, pre-op, your demeanor left to be desired. During the op though? Could not have asked for more professional people. I’mma give you a pass and say that you and your folks are welcome in my settlement. I still want work visas for six months, but that doesn't look like an issue.”
“I’ll be honest, I didn’t see you as a leader until Prosser told me about what you said to him about Gonzales. That mindset wins wars. I won’t lie, it’ll chafe working for someone of your age, but your list of experiences and accomplishments is solid.”
“You do know that ‘pretty cool for a kid,’ is still insulting, right?”
“Kimber, I’m like three times your age and stuck in several ruts, same as my guys. Give us some time to adjust.”
“Blah blah, reasonable expectations, blah.” I roll my eyes and let my snarky teenager behavior drop. “I have a secretary for housing, so talk to him for lodging.”
“Are you sure one is enough?” He pauses, I raise an eyebrow to express that it was not a very diplomatic statement. “The secretary, I mean . . . Hells, never mind. I’ll have one of my guys talk to you from now on.” I have a chuckle at that, enjoying a small mote of hubris being captured in the ether.
My morning went a lot like this between Interrogations. I talk to an operator, tenderize a goon. I talk to Paolo and Bev, Bev gives me pointers on softening up a boss—they have egos that need pampering apparently.
“What is this? Baby’s first interrogation?” Mr. Bossman asks.
Anger rises in me, especially after dealing with Kenneck calling me kid. Then I remember Parker, and the advice that the other teachers gave me while I was training in interrogation: It’s okay to have pride in a job well done, but you’ve lost the plot if you enjoy the violence.
I draw my side arm slowly and let him watch me check for a round in the chamber. I take the safety off slowly and take aim for a kidney. The bastard is still smiling when I pull the trigger. When he laughs, I shoot him again but in the liver.
“What the fuck!?” he screams, “This isn’t how interrogations work?” He’s looking at Bev, expecting her to stop me, but her raised eyebrow in looking at me shows the power in this situation.
“You seem to think you know how things are ‘supposed’ to go. What do you think is coming next? I want information, I don’t need it.”
I wait for him to talk, but he remains silent.
\You know he’s going to die with those wounds, right?\
/I do, and so does he./
“If you’re willing to talk, I have meds for you and I’ll drop you and your boys back in Texico Badlands. Your life is in your hands now.” I walk over to the seat in the corner and sit and let Bev take over the interrogation. She knows more about what information he might have.
Bev leaves and comes back with a medical kit. She takes out forceps, douses them in alcohol and starts digging for the bullet. That sets the man to screaming. Having had this done to me with local anesthetic, I can confirm that it is very uncomfortable, but I can’t imagine what it’s like without pain killers.
“If you don’t relax, it’ll be harder to take out.” Bev says calmly, looking into his eyes.
“Relax?! Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Pain killers and meds are just a conversation away.” She works through another minute of screams before dropping a mish-shapen lump to the floor with a thud. “Ready for the second one?”
He folds as soon as the pointy metal tool touches his organ meat in the second hole. He talks about troop numbers, locations, plans for northern Arizona and New Mexico. After he talks about plans, take a Pain-b-gone and inject both wound sites and give him a regenerative and a healing capsule. Bev helps me drag him back to the shuttle.
“Not going to give them a break?” Bev asks.
“I’ll drop them off with food, water and their weapons. Otherwise, I don’t care. The alternative is putting them in cells and keeping them overnight.”
“What if the other former prisoners are ready for you?”
I snort at that, “I’m not dropping them off in the same spot. I said I’d give them a chance not the advantage.” I laugh as I return to the cockpit and I’m pretty sure Bev calls me a bitch under her breath. I mean, I am being a bit of one, yes, but the Health Club folks in general don’t respect me very much. That started with Hailey and has progressively poisoned the waters since. It’s possible she said that because she thought my shooting the detainee was juvenile or petty and I laugh at her face for checking on my plans, but can’t take it back now. I make a note to work on talking before and after to set expectations.
I guess it’s the same idea as the troubles I’m having with Kenneck. The ‘adults’ are used to having to slog through and earn their positions within Warram and strive harder to move on from Warram. They didn’t have the support to upset the apple cart, and the Health Club only had Marcella’s support to move on, not escape. Sure, some of the animosity probably stems from my sponsorship, but they also don’t believe I’ve had to put in any work. It doesn't help that I react like any teenager would when my age causes people to question my capability. My hackles have been easier to raise since I started helping Marcella deal with her life stuff in addition to spinning my work plates. Bah, maybe Kenneck and Bev aren’t completely to blame.
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
I can’t ignore that I’ve had more opportunities to succeed than most people, but I don’t see why that would make others not want to work with me and benefit from my opportunity. I can see why Marcella would have issues with the role reversal, but even she seems to be coming around.
As much as I’d like to say to hell with everyone, I’ll do this on my own, I really can’t. Even with Aria and Tova, there’s just so much to do and I can’t be here and in Asphodel at the same time.
Tova, next time this happens, and someone disparages my age, can you help me talk it through, or at least remind me that everyone has their hang-ups?
I think we both could use a little reminder of that from time to time.
***
Deep breaths, Kimber. They’re learning and Paolo is overworked on the best of days.
Yeah, but hundreds of credits down the drain is hard to look at. It’s almost to two weeks, where I would expect them to be able to run the thing with very little supervision. Now I have three trainees yelling at each other and Paolo is nowhere in sight. In his defense, the three idiots tried to impress us by doing it themselves—which could be blamed on me for not requiring Paolo or myself to unlock the controls. Thanks for checking my reaction, Tova.
“Gentlemen,” I say. No response. I repeat it in Spanish. Then I shout swear words at them as I gesture at the machine in Spanish. That shuts them up.
“[Instead of looking good, you’ve shown me you can’t follow instructions. Paolo told me that you were smart and I could work with you, I could rely on you, and you’re making him out to be a liar.]”
“[Paolo is no liar.]” One of the man says through a grimace as he advances on me.
“[He’s never lied to me before, but he vouched for you three. Don’t let him choosing you be a mistake he has to live with.]” I walk to my manufacturing line and change the building settings on what apparatuses require Paolo or me to unlock and an appropriate time elapsed removal of permission.
I message Paolo about what I arrived to find and that I put ‘locks’ on the machinery. It occurs to me that I could deal with less hassle if I automated the production and just used personnel to load materials.
Tova, say I wanted to automate production and security on a place like this, what would be the best way. Same with HQ.
For HQ, some simple threat detection and voice response programming could do the job. For this factory, if you wanted have security and production, you would need two of said programs, where the production line would benefit from a purpose-build, learning program suite that could trouble-shoot and advise. I was thinking about an Aria-like suite to control the fortress/compound we’re building.
Oooh, I like that idea. And speaking of Aria, we don’t have a cargo slash air travel port or receiving area. I know HQ has a pad, and the settlement cube will have a courtyard I can land in, but all of that should be for emergencies or for me, not shipping or visitors.
Since we discussed the . . . are we calling it the Cube? Perhaps Elsewhere Square?
That. I vote that.
Since that design pre-dates your shuttle purchase, it wasn’t in the plan. I have since flagged an area adjacent to the freeway that would facilitate many land modes of transportation and several air modes. Since our stretch of freeway is straight, it can also be used to land and launch traditional human aircraft.
You really like this urban planning stuff don’t you?
It gives me a sense of completeness. The complex, multiparameter optimization of an area designed to be used by semi-rational beings is an engaging problem.
I can’t help but laugh at the accurate description of our rationality as humans. Emotions are both bane and boon.
Talking to Tova about the port of entry to Camp Elsewhere gave me more ideas for urban planning that I put in the ‘nice to have’ section of my personal priorities while putting automation on HQ and factory security as a need to have.
I walk over to the make-shift Orphanage next door to see how everyone is faring, and I’m met with a secretary sitting at the reception area.
“Hello Miss Novarro, how may I assist you?” the teen receptionist asks me.
“I would like to talk to someone that can apprise me of desired changes to the building and any staff that needs to be hired. This is still planning on being an Orphanage, right?”
Her laugh titters as she puts a hand in front of her mouth to cover it. “Yes ma’am. We wished to discuss the name, as well as several modifications to help create a community feel. The staffing we feel we have a handle on. And as you may have guessed, you can talk to me if you wish. I am one of the current organizers in charge of Orphan development and enrichment. My name is Harmony.”
“Nice to meet you Harmony. Willing to help, as long as we can resolve some standing issues.”
“Of course! As this will likely be a longer conversation, I will page someone to replace me and we can talk in an office with refreshments.”
I nod and we wait for only a few minutes before a male teen with a bright smile greets me and says he is also an organizer and his name is Darren. They certainly picked two charismatic people, sheesh.
Harmony leads me to an adjacent room with a meeting table and moves a plate of cookies and a pitcher of water with a glass in front of me. I thank her and she sits next to me to pour us both some water.
“We are considering two names, Our Lady’s Elsewhere, and Our Lady Nova.”
“I’d prefer not to have it named after me, but if your intent is to have me take in and purpose train some of your residents, Nova is more appropriate. If you just want community support and a place that will accept them as they age out of the system, Elsewhere is better. If you just want a snazzy name, the joke for Elsewhere is WAY better.”
“Our hope is to partner with Nova Chem for a work-program for those that are willing to work, and perhaps a sponsorship for a few ‘desirable’ candidates like the program you went through at Warram.”
That is a decent proposal. It’s giving me what I asked for, but also asking for that little bit more.
“It’s hard to promise the last part when I don’t know what the organizers have planned for structure and enrichment for the kids. There were four of us Orphans holding things together in the shitshow that was my Orphanage.”
“I assure you that the organizers here have read about Warram’s selection process, your and Maribelle’s experiences at Our Lady Luck, as well as other stories from the younger orphans we’ve collected in the area. We’d be happy to send you the overarching plan.” The constantly chipper, can-do attitude is tiring.
“Yes please. May as well send me the remodel plans and see what I can part with.”
“Thank you!” She claps her hands together and aims her thousand watt smile at me.
Empress’ glittery wings, that’s a lot of brightness.
I wave her gratitude off. “It’s pretty easy to want to help Orphans that are willing to accept help. Now put that smile away, your teeth could blind the moon.”