Chapter Four:
Gears of Industry
The peninsula once known as Upper Michigan is one of the most densely populated areas of North America outside of the Coalition States. There are over a hundred communities in this area. Most of these communities are city-states that number under a hundred-thousand. If New Crater City were somehow transplanted here, it would fit right in with its new hypothetical neighbors.
Two nations have risen to prominence in the area. The most well known is Ishpeming. Home of the arms manufacturer Northern Gun, it is a virtually a household name in the defense industry. Mercenaries and militias all over North America rely on Northern Gun to supply them. New Crater Cities militia and police force are both equipped exclusively with NG gear. They are even known to supply such mystical communities as Lazlo and Tolkeen.
The city-state itself is a highly industrialized metropolis of over half a million. I would guess this makes it the largest technology dependent city outside of the Coalition States. It is without a doubt, a mercenary's paradise. All sorts of human augmentation are available. Bionics and cybernetics are both common commodities. Mind over Matter implants are also available. Bio-Comp chemical augmentation is also easy to acquire here despite the cost to the recipient. And of course, all of Northern Gun's goods can be purchased. This includes a wide array of personal weapons and armor as well as power armor and full sized robots.
Education levels are high as one would expect in an industrialized society. The people are rough and tumble, blue collar folks. The population is primarily human although the presence of D-Bee's doesn't raise anyone's eyebrows. Pretty much anyone with money is welcomed here. Magic users can usually be found passing thru, often with mercenary colleagues. They are closely watched by the local authorities here but are not unduly molested. This technological enclave is wary of mystical forces they don't quite understand.
It comes as no surprise that Ishpeming maintains a large and extremely well equipped military. They are quite secure in their powerbase and it would take a major upheaval affecting the entire continent to dislodge them.
The other major nation in Upper Michigan is the Manistique Imperium. It also a major industrial center that produces a range of military gear for the communities and mercenaries of North America. Its economy is more diversified and includes mining, metal processing and agriculture in addition to its manufactured wares. The main city of Manistique has a population that is a little over half that of Ishpeming but the overall population of the Imperium is higher.
Education in the Imperium's cities is also fairly high although that drops sharply in the rural areas. The university in Manistique is probably one of the finest in North America, although I may be biased, having completed my doctorate there. They trail behind Ishpeming in their level of technology but they do produce much of the non-military technological goods for the communities of North America.
The population is mostly human although non-humans and mutants are both common and accepted within the Imperium. Psychics are well accepted by the population. Users of magic are seen with only slightly less suspicion than in Ishpeming.
The Imperium also maintains a large and well equipped military force. They are easily as stable as Ishpeming. Still, one cannot help but comparing them to their rival, Ishpeming. The two powers are on friendly terms and conduct trade with each other. But there is no forgetting that they are in fact rivals no matter how well they currently get along.
-Excerpt from the journal of Dr. Matthew James
"Good damn piece of junk!" Matthew's cursing cut through the otherwise tranquil morning. "It's a classic, he said! They don't make them like this anymore, he said! I ever see that son of a bitch that sold me this ancient piece of junk; I'll hang him by its wiring harness!" The truth of the matter was that Dr. James actually loved his truck otherwise he could use one of the militaries fleet vehicles like his friends and colleagues, Donald and Reese. Part of the reason for his affection was that it was a restored pre-cataclysm vehicle. So the salesman had been correct, they didn't make them like this anymore—which of course, made that much harder to find proper parts for it.
In a fit of temper, Matthew began to beat on the panel he was trying to remove with his wrench.
"That's right, keep breaking it until it's fixed again." Attracted by the noise, Reese had wandered out of his room to see what the fuss was in the parking lot. He wasn't terribly surprised to find his friend once more attempting repairs on his coveted hover truck. "Why don't you let me help?"
"Bout time you offered." Matthew groused as he pulled himself out from between the two forward thrusters. "Looks like the bolts are rusted—completely seized."
Reese slipped under the damaged vehicle and placed a hand against the panel his friend had been working on. His eyes revealed a sizable dent in the middle of it. A deeper psionic sense told him that the physical damage was interfering with the starting circuit it was designed to protect. Reese's empathy with machines was an increasingly common psychic mutation among those with an affinity with technology.
Like the Psi-Stalkers whose abilities allowed them track psychic, magic and supernatural emanations, it was remotely possible that a new human sub-race was evolving. Unlike Psi-Stalkers who formed their own tribes in the wild and bred true, those with Reese's abilities were found intermittently among the general population. Mechanical affinity seemed to arise more from individual interest than breeding or environment as was the case with Psi-Stalkers.
"Looks like you might have hit that hell hound a little harder than you should have." Reese pulled himself out from under the truck and slapped the dirt off his hands. "The starting circuit's damaged. That's why you didn't find out until this morning, it's the first time you've tried to start her up since powering down. You're right about the seized bolts too. I can drill those out and replace them no problem. I can fix the circuit as well although that's going to take some time."
Matthew sighed. He was glad Reese was along. While he could read a schematic and handle simple wiring problems, this kind of problem took more in-depth expertise. "How long?"
"Hmmm." Reese considered. "Getting that plate off won't be a problem. Neither will reshaping it. I'm going to have to fudge things with that circuit though. I'm going to have to work around what I do and don't have to fix it with. As much as you enjoy the bigger, better hammer theory, some things you can't smash better."
Matthew grimaced. "I've seen you get through on brute strength and ignorance on more than one occasion."
Reese held up his hands defensively. "Hey, I'm not saying that approach doesn't have its time and place. This just isn't going to be one of those times."
"Yeah, yeah. I got you." Matthew nodded. "I'll help you then. What do you need from your truck?"
"Might was well start with the drill. Bring the case of bits and I'll eyeball them out here." Reese went back under and got comfortable while he waited for Matthew to bring him the tools.
While Reese and Matthew repaired the ancient hover truck, Dale and Don observed from the small restaurant attached to the motel.
"I'm almost sorry that Reese came out." Dale sighed. "It was fun watching Matt curse and throw tools."
"He does that, from time to time." Don allowed himself a smile at his friend's expense. "Matt's actually not a bad mechanic. Not as good as Reese of course but he can find his way around a schematic and do most repairs on his own truck himself. Heck he can patch armor, recharge clips or maintain most weapons in our militia armory. Despite his technical training, he stopped short of becoming an engineer like Reese. He might have made a fair medical or cybernetics doctor if he'd stuck out that route."
Dale turned her attention from the two mechanics trying to wrestle the truck into functioning. "What do you mean?"
"Matt was pretty restless in school." Don shrugged. "He spent a year at the academy learning trades skills but got bored of that so tried for medicine. He did well in that program too, but again got bored. It wasn't until his third year that he seemed to find his niche in studying anthropology. He's taken a lot of interest type courses in things like magic, mythology and lore and they all fed into the field of modern anthropology. His grades were so high by the end of the year that he earned a scholarship to a forth year in the University of the Manistique Imperium. He came home with a complete PhD."
"Sounds like he has trouble making up his mind about things." Dale let the waitress pour her some more coffee before stirring in some sugar and crème for herself. "It's amazing he managed to specialize in any one thing long enough to get a degree."
"It's true." Don didn't drink coffee, preferring tea instead. No sugar or crème for him. "He'll study something long enough to get the basics or until he gets bored and then he moves on. It was the same during our military training—really drove our instructor's nuts at times. But I think that's why he ended up with anthropology. There are so many people and different cultures out there for him to study, there's a good chance he'll never get bored."
"Okay, fair enough." Dale pursed her lips. "But there's still something I don't quite understand I guess. How did he get put in charge of this mission, or perhaps even better, what exactly does New Crater City hope to accomplish with this mission?"
"He convinced our superiors that we were placing ourselves at a severe tactical disadvantage by not understanding the various communities and peoples of North America. Not just in tactical terms but in regards to trading as well. Knowledge is power, he told them, and we were and are sorely lacking in that area. Much of what we do know comes from books that predate the cataclysm. We keep looking to the past for knowledge. It was his argument that if we're to ever progress, we have to start looking forward. But before we can do that, we have to look around and get the lay of the land." Don leaned closer to Dale for a moment. "Personally, I think it was just a way for him to get the government to pay for an extended road trip."
"Okay, I get that." Dale said, smiling at the idea of Matt pulling a fast one over on his superiors. "But are we going to be sneaking into mayor's homes, tallying defenses and sniffing out industrial secrets?"
"Nothing so dubious." Don assured her. "We will simply move around the different communities and learn about the people. Take notes on their system of government, law enforcement and culture. I suppose we'll gather some very basic information regarding defensive capabilities and level of technology but at best what we're gathering could be described as soft intelligence. Very general information."
Dale seemed to be a bit disappointed. She barely looked up when Ashton walked over and joined them at their table.
"Good morning." Ashton said in a quiet, almost shy voice.
"Good morning Ashton." Don greeted the most recent addition to their group. "Had a bit of a delay this morning. Matt's truck isn't quite up to greeting the day yet."
Ashton glanced out the window, "when will it be ready to go?"
"Haven't the foggiest." Don confessed. "You'd have to ask Reese. He's the technical specialist. I'm the traveling physician."
"Morning Ashton." Dale greeted the group's new guide before turning her attention back to Don. "Say, if all we're doing is studying people's culture and stuff, what are you doing along with us? A doctor seems like a bit of overkill, much less a doctor of cybernetic medicine. Wouldn't a medic suffice?"
"So far as the group's most likely medical needs go, Matt really does have all the training needed. I'm along to evaluate the level of medical care given to different communities that we visit. Part of that of course includes the amount of cybernetics and bionics knowledge possessed in other places. I suspect that CyberTech Industries has a particular interest in that area of knowledge." Don sat back and nursed his tea. Dale was far too young for him of course but her attention was flattering, nonetheless.
"Ah ha!" She exclaimed and pointed a finger at Don. "You're a medical spy!" Then she jerked a thumb out the window. "And I suppose Reese is along to evaluate the level of technology of the places we visit?" She didn't wait for Don to confirm or deny her assertion. "I guess I'd better write up reports about the levels of magic practiced then." Dale nodded and sat back against her chair with a certain satisfaction.
Both Dale and Don found themselves turning to regard Ashton for a moment. He felt the need to make a contribution. "I'll make sure you all find your way to the places you're going." All this talk of spies made him a little self-conscience Even as a special operative, he preferred to observe his subjects through a pair of binoculars—or even better, a snipers scope.
"Good." Dale nodded in approval. "I'd hate to be lost in the wilderness with this collection of geeks. They wouldn't know what plants were edible or would eat you!"
"I happen to be very well versed in botany." Don retorted. "It's actually part of my mandate to collect samples of exotic flora for study." The truth was that he'd taken a course on botany in preparation for this mission. He settled down and then nodded to Ashton. "Of course I'd be more than welcome any knowledge or guidance you could offer in the field of man-eating plants."
Ashton laughed. "I'll do what I can for you. I may not know the scientific name of most things but I guess you could say I have a working knowledge of what bites and what don't."
The three shared a laugh and then ordered breakfast for themselves.
Crossing of the Lake Hudson by ferry had to be delayed until sunrise the next day as Matthew's hover truck wasn't ready to go by the time the last one departed that day. Ferry's only made the crossing during the day. No less than three vessels made the trip from the CS state of Iron Heart to Upper Michigan but none of them would travel at night.
That was the first line of defense for the ferry crossing, to reduce the time they were on the open water during dangerous times. The second line of defense was speed. The ships cruised along at 50 knots and didn't stop for anything. The third line of defense were patrols conducted by the unimpressive Coalition blue water navy and even less daunting mercenary patrols out of Ishpeming.
Should all of those measures fail, then the ferries had armored hulls and weapon systems to defend themselves. Given the nature of most travelers aboard, the crew could usually count on some passengers pitching in to defend the ferry.
The ferry service was generally seen as the quickest and safest way between the otherwise isolated bastions of humanity. Still, until recently, there had been four ferries that made the journey.
Crossing was not cheap. Each vehicle had to pay 2500 credits and each person had to pay 500 credits. So a group the size of Dr. James' convoy cost 10,000 credits to make the voyage. There was no room for negotiation as there had been with earlier road tolls. Nor was there any guarantee of being delivered safely to the desired destination. The very idea of a guarantee was now largely an archaism. Still, the service was widely used by merchants and mercenaries.
On this occasion, speed was enough to keep the vessel and her passengers safe and sound.
The ferry deposited it's passengers in the independent city of New Munising. This free port fell between Ishpeming and the Manistique and was equally important to both powers for trade. With a population of nearly a hundred thousand and a strategic location, it was a minor power in its own right. It maintained its neutrality and prospered by playing all the other powers in the area off one another.
As an independent port and border town, it was a rough and tumble place. Not only were weapons and armor common but power armor, robots and military vehicles were all very common sights within the city limits. The local defense force acted to protect the local citizens and to prevent large scale property damage. Otherwise they left mercenaries and travelers to fend for themselves.
As a neutral power, one was as likely to encounter Coalition soldiers, mercenaries, mages, psychics, D-Bee's and many other sorts. Monsters or so-called demons were about the only things the local defense force turned away and even they might get in if there was someone around to vouch for them. That isn't to say that these varied people got along with one another—far from it. Passers-thru often disappeared without so much as a raised eyebrow from the local authorities. Those with bounties on their heads had to tread carefully in a place such as this.
Bounty hunters weren't a concern for Dr. James and his crew. Still, security was an issue that was never far from anyone's mind. With much of the day already spent on board a ferry, they didn't dare venture out before sunup the next day. That meant spending the night in a tavern. The place they chose had its own parking garage and provided security for both vehicles and patrons. It cost a bit more, but it was deemed worth it for a good nights sleep.
Matthew woke early the next morning for his usual ritual of maintenance for his truck. Then he met the others in the taverns dining area for breakfast.
"She going to live?" Reese asked as Matthew joined them.
"Until I get so fed up at it that I riddle it with ion blasts." Matthew took a seat between Dale and Don. "You guys order yet?"
"Naw, we were waiting for you." Dale replied as she leaned back in her chair. "So where we headed to next, exactly?"
"I was thinking of Ishpeming next." Matthew said as he opened the menu. He grimaced at the greasy selection of pictures facing him. At least it was still better than boiled rations. "I picked up a map at the dock. The roads around here are all pretty good—paved and regularly patrolled. Lots of towns and small cities too so there's not much danger of getting stranded anywhere."
"I'm surprised Matt." Don commented. "I would think you'd want to visit old friends in the Manistique."
"There'll be time for that later. I want to get our protection secured first." After some consideration, Matthew decided he would order the 'truckers' platter. The picture promised six pieces of bacon, four slices of toast, three eggs done to the diners preference, a heaping pile of hash browns and a couple of large sausages. Coffee or juice was extra. He imagined that the place got decent business from the drivers of transport trucks of both the wheeled and hover variety. The entire Upper Michigan area was a bustling hub for commerce in North America. "I'll feel a lot more at ease when we've got more guns riding shotgun and more bodies to stand stag at night."
"Aren't you being a bit paranoid?" Reese challenged. "We're in one of the most developed areas in North America. This area has never been overly active, magically speaking and there really hasn't been a monster problem here for decades."
"Monsters aren't the only danger on the road." Matthew pointed out. "We could still have troubles with out of work mercenaries who've turned to banditry as a way to make ends meet. Besides, our eventual destination is the east coast. Ishpeming is as far west as we'll be going."
"Yes, but we'll have to backtrack anyway since we have to be west to get out of this peninsula." Ashton pointed out. "It's true there will be some backtracking even if we go to the Manistique first, but it will be less than if we went to Ishpeming first."
Matthew sighed. "You have a point, Ashton. We'll go to the Manistique first. Then we'll swing west and go to Ishpeming. We'll keep going west and then follow the shore of Lake Michigan south. We'll avoid Tolkeen on this trip. We'll have to cut through the Coalition State of Chi-Town, and I suppose we may as well check out the fortress city itself while we're in the area." He looked over at Dale. "Can you keep your abilities hidden indefinitely?"
"Sure can." She nodded. "But remember I can't access them while they're hidden away."
"I'll keep that in mind. I'd like to get a day pass into the city itself if I can, but even if I can't then even seeing the 'Burbs will be insightful." He considered for a moment. "Even if day passes can be secured, I think it'll be best if Dale stays on the outside, which means we'll have to split up."
"You don't have to worry about me." Dale said confidently. "I've been to Chi-Town's 'Burbs tons of times. I know my way around."
"Awfully cocky, aren't you?" Reese was surprised at Dale's attitude. "I've heard that the CS shoots mages on sight."
"Only if they know they're dealing with one." Dale pointed out. "And you'd be surprised what some Coalition types will tolerate. Especially in the 'Burbs. Especially for a fully loaded cred card."
"Still, I'd feel better about your safety if you stayed on the outside." Matthew insisted. "We'll work out who'll stay out with you when we get there." He glanced around the table. Don and Reese were both psychics and that could cause some problems. Ashton didn't seem to possess any powers so it was likely he'd be okay to take inside. And of course Matthew himself was an un-mutated, ordinary human so there shouldn't be any problem there either.
"Alright!" Dale said with her usual enthusiasm. "Now that we've got that out of the way, let's have breakfast and get on with it."
There was hearty agreement all around and breakfast was quickly ordered and consumed. Matthew worked out the route they'd take as well as the final details. They'd be in the Manistique for a day and a night and then they'd be off to Ishpeming where they'd stay until they'd recruited anyone else they might need for the job. Two or three mercenaries were deemed to be enough. It was certainly all Matthew's budget would allow.
Travel in Upper Michigan wasn't the ordeal that it was in other parts of North America. It was a sign that humanity was finally reclaiming the world after unknown hundreds of years. Roads were paved and well patrolled. There were even speed limits and other street regulations in most parts of the Upper Peninsula. Enforcement of these rules fell to the nearest city-state as did maintenance and security. The pay-off to well maintained roads was increased revenues from trade.
The journey to Manistique City only took a few hours. The city was the capital of the Manistique Imperium as well as being the location of the Manistique University. It was the very same University where Dr. James had completed his formal education. Outside of the Coalition States, was probably the best educational institution on the continent.
So far as the mission went, there wasn't a lot of cause for the stop at Manistique. For Dr. James and Dr. Corwin, it was a chance to catch up with a number of old friends. They spent the afternoon and most the evening doing just that. Travel and communication being what it was, such interactions were a key way to keep up with what was happening elsewhere.
Reese was more interested in seeing what was new in the realm of technology. Ishpeming was the place to go for mercenaries and military hardware. The Imperium filled out the other, less flashy technological spectrum. It was also part of his mandate to compare the levels of technology between Upper Michigan and New Crater City. Not much had changed since his last visit to the area which was exactly what was expected.
Ashton on the other hand was completely out of his element. Cities to him were a place to sell one's goods and to re-supply. Occasional use of various entertainment venues offered some distraction to wilderness trappers such as him but it was in the bush that he felt most comfortable.
Dale, abandoned by the others for the moment, was in her element in a technological enclave. She didn't disdain technology as did others who practiced her art. She embraced it as readily as she did her natural gifts. Noting that Ashton seemed to be restless, she dragged him out to one of the many arcades in the cities main strip.
"I don't see the point of this." He complained as he was dragged into a brightly lit enclave. MEGABIT was proclaimed in green neon above the entrance. Not that he knew what it said, being completely illiterate.
"The point," Dale explained as she hauled her companion over to the shooting gallery area, "is to have a little fun while we have a chance."
"By shooting at digital displays?" Ashton was quite dubious. "I don't see how. I mean, look at these things. The scopes are totally useless. The scale on the screens are right out to lunch. These things aren't like real shooting in any way." He shook his head at the one they stopped at. "And this one seems to be about shooting Coalition soldiers. How is that fun, as opposed to, I don't know, suicidal?"
The game that Dale had paused at was called "Shoot 'Em Dead, Boy." Sure enough, there were simulated Coalition soldiers in their signature skull mask armor on a battlefield. The goal of the game was to shoot as many of them as you could before they eventually swarmed over your position. It was an immensely popular game.
Dale dropped a couple of credit coins into the machine and then picked up one of the fake, plastic pulse laser rifles. "What's the matter, Ashton? Can't hack it?"
He gave her an incredulous look before picking up the other rifle. Without a further word, he began laying waste to his digital opponents.
His uncanny accuracy actually caused Dale to pause. Time and again he landed shots against the enemies head. He never took more than one shot and never paused to see if he hit. There was never any doubt in his mind as he sought out the next target for destruction. Shaking her head, Dale tried—and failed—to keep up.
Such activities while once common and taken for granted during the age of man, were now luxuries to be cherished when they could be had. Places like upper Michigan were the exception in the new world order. Peace and tranquility were illusions paid for with blood and sacrifice. If not by local militia's, then with able and plentiful mercenaries who made a livelihood out of battle and danger.
The peace, prosperity and technology drew mercenaries to the region like no place else in North America. Many were hired to maintain the security that had first attracted them. Many others were hired away by those seeking that same safety that they could offer. There was never a shortage of work for those who could and would fight.
So the next day when the scouting party left behind the Manistique for Ishpeming, there was no doubt that they wouldn't have to look long for the protection they sought. It would only be a matter of how far they could stretch their credit resources.
After getting a hotel room, Dr. James posted ads at numerous mercenary gathering points throughout the city. The posted notes detailed the intended mission, duration of employment and rate of pay along with the general abilities of those already part of the mission. The ads also told interested parties that they could go in person for an interview in the hotel bar. A healthy tip to the bar staff ensured that perspective mercenaries would find their way to Dr. James' table.
All of this was a common and accepted procedure for those hiring protection. It was also highly effective. Dr. James was hardly settled into his seat along with his travel companions when the first applicants were arriving to discuss the potential employment.
More mercenaries had to be turned away because they were over qualified then because they lacked merits. The more experienced and better equipped warriors of fortune could and did demand larger payments than was available in the budget. They had to be turned away with no hard feelings. There was no doubt these individuals would find suitable arrangements by the days end.
What Dr. James was looking for were competent fighters who had yet to prove themselves. The Joe grunts of the mercenary world, ready to take any work until they finally found their big score or made a name for themselves somehow.
One such candidate was dragged to the table by Reese. The engineering whiz had been looking into the newly opened Triax Robotics shop elsewhere in the city. He had found a great deal of interest there although all of it was far more expensive than the more common Northern Gun products. The robotics systems especially were really cutting edge and he had spent a good chunk of the day discussing them with some of the shop's service technicians.
The conversation had been interrupted by an eight foot tall, crimson red Cyborg. "Excuse me." He said in heavily accented English. "I heard you talking here, about these technologies." The borg swept a massive arm around the show room. "Is it possible that you seek power? Because you are going out into the dangerous wilds, yes?"
Reese's eyes went wide at the sight of the speaker. He hadn't even heard of a Triax VX-500 Manhunter Cyborg before, much less seen one. Cyborgs were the ultimate synthesis of man and machine. The VX-500 had very little left of the original human inside its combat chassis. Some feared that such 'Borgs" were in danger of losing all their humanity. Indeed, if there was any humanity within the Borg at all, it wasn't visible on its monstrous face mask.
The technophile swallowed hard as he gazed up at the querying cyborg. "Um, yes, that's right."
Laughter boomed from the looming Cyborg. "This is good. I am newly arrived here from the New German Republic and seek gainful employment. If you go where danger is, I will protect you, my squishy little friend!" The VX-500 put its arm around Reese in a manner of old comrades. "I am Kirk! What are you called, my squishy little comrade?"
Again Reese gulped hard. "I'm Reese."
"Good! It is a good name!" Kirk bellowed. "We go now. To the tavern to share many glorious lies of battle!"
"Eh, well…" Reese wasn't exactly sure how to tell the massive machine that had its arm wrapped firmly around his own frail little body that he couldn't exactly hire him, just like that. "I'll have to introduce you to my boss, Dr. James. He's the one doing all the hiring."
Unfazed, the Cyborg nodded. "Off we go then! Let us get these formalities out of the way and move on with the evening festivities. Those lies will not tell themselves!" With that, he half dragged, half carried an increasingly concerned Reese out into the street.
In the time that it took to get to the hotel, the boisterous cyborg had actually begun to grow on Reese. He reckoned if Kirk was that scary when he was being friendly, then he would certainly be an asset should he decide to become unfriendly.
So he wasted no time in showing Kirk to Dr. James and the rest. "Hey guys, I have a recruit!" He gestured to the cyborg towering behind him.
"Ha! You have more squishy friends! This is marvelous!" The mighty cyborg chortled out the words. "I am Kirk, newly arrived from the New German Republic. I need a job, and you… you clearly need me!"
Dr. James blinked at the potential recruit who had just interrupted an interview with a headhunter augmented with a handful of bionics. The negotiations were not going well as the mercenary was demanding four times what could be afforded plus a lion's share of any plunder discovered. "We can only afford to pay you two thousand credits a month. Most salvage we acquire will likely be sent back to our HQ for study although you would get an equal share of whatever was left plus a reasonable finder's fee for the rest." He was fairly certain that would end the negotiations with such a powerful fighter.
To his surprise, it did. "Ha! We have a deal then!" Then he looked down at the headhunter that had whose interview he had interrupted. "You there! Do you work for these people?"
"Well, no…" Came the mercenaries reply.
"Then you are in my seat!" Kirk lifted the man out of the chair and then set him not too gently down on his feet. No longer concerned with the individual, Kirk sat in his chair. It creaked in protest but was ignored by the cyborg. "Why such a long face, Doc? Your troubles are over for you have me to protect you now!" A heavy fist slammed into the table suddenly. "We celebrate! Bring beer!"
There wasn't really much in the way of sustenance that a cyborg needed. Beer would be filtered down until it was little more than water and the waste would be held until it could be expelled conveniently. Nevertheless, Kirk still had his original taste buds and enjoyed the flavor. Even if it was weak and mostly water by his judgment.
Bowing to the inevitability that was Kirk Yager, Dr. James and Reese both joined the Cyborg in several rounds of drinks. Other prospective mercenaries either dispersed or else joined in the festivities.
At one point, Dale asked Matthew, "How are we going to pick anyone else, like this?"
He looked at her somewhat blearily. Trying to keep up with a full conversion borg was not going well for him. "Sh-simple darlin'." He waved his mug at the bar at large. "Whoever'sh left sh-sh-standing at the end, we take with ush!"
She shrugged. It seemed as good a method as any to her.
The next conscious moment Dr. James had was the next morning. Blearily he opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. So he promptly closed them again and waited for the white hot pain to subside. Then he braced himself and slowly opened his eyes again.
The bar room was filled with passed out mercenaries, his own crew included. Reese and Don were both face down in the laps of a pair of D-Bee's that were probably female. Ashton had gotten behind the bar somehow before passing out with his head in the sink. It was probably the best place for him, all things considered. Dale was leaned up against him and snoring nosily.
It seemed that the only one from Matt's crew still going was Kirk. He was sitting at a small table, apparently locked in an arm wrestling match with a straining juicer.
Juicers were chemically augmented super soldiers who traded away most their life in exchange for super human physical abilities. No Juicer lived for a decade after their transformation. Since most Juicers underwent the augmentation in their late teens, few lived to see their thirtieth birthday. In a world where few people lived to see their fortieth birthday, this didn't seem to be such a high price to pay.
Detoxification and a longer life span was possible but few ever attempted it. Most preferred to die in a blaze of glory and laser fire than the half life that was offered by having the drugs purged from their system. After tasting godhood, it was hard to go back to being a mere mortal.
The valiantly struggling teen mercenary was young, even for a Juicer. Yet the augmentation had left him with massive muscles which bulged with his exertions. Even Juicers had little chance of winning a physical contest with a VX-500 series cyborg. That he could even attempt it showed the boys raw power.
Matthew was quite impressed that the boy had managed to hold the cyborg to a stalemate, with neither gaining nor losing ground. The eventual outcome was of course inevitable. Even a Juicer would eventually tire, even if it took days, and then the hydraulics of the cyborg would win out.
The truth of the matter was that Kirk had fallen asleep sometime ago and his joints had merely locked up. Without eye lids to close, there was no way for anyone to know.
Quite unaware of this fact, Dr. James decided to intervene. He couldn't afford to wait until the two juggernauts resolved their competition. Somewhat uneasily he roused himself from, what he discovered to be, a very uncomfortable position. He also woke Dale with his motion for which he received a kick in the calve. With all the other pain he was feeling, it barely registered.
He dragged himself over to where the match was taking place and took a seat, dumping out a drunken and passed out psi-stalker to make room. "That's pretty impressive, son."
The Juicer looked up from where his fist clenched the cyborgs for a moment. Then he grunted. "Thanks."
"We could use someone like you for a little mission." Dr. James continued.
"How much do you pay?" The boy asked through clenched teeth.
Matthew reckoned that the Juicer was maybe sixteen years old. "Two-thousand credits a month with possible bonuses at the end depending on what kind of salvage we come home with."
A bead of sweat appeared on the Juicers forehead. "How long?"
"It'll depend." Matt replied. "Depends what we find and how quickly. No longer than six months, at any rate."
The Juicer snorted, "You know what kinda money I could make in that time?"
"It's not about the money." Dale said as she slipped into the bench seat beside the boy. She winked at him. "It's about the experience."
A second bead of sweat appeared on the boys face as Dale's thigh rubbed against his. "Well… maybe."
"Ah, come on." Dale pleaded coquettishly. "You're bound to see all sorts of interesting things on an expedition like this." It wasn't likely coincidence that the way she leaned forward when she said that introduced some of her cleavage to the boy's field of view.
"What the heck." The boy conceded, suddenly intrigued by what he might possibly see during the expedition. "I'll sign on." Trying to impress the young lady next to him, he renewed his efforts at defeating his opponent.
The sudden jerk woke Kirk. He glanced at the Juicer trying to pull down his arm. Then he looked over to his new boss, Dr. James. Finally his eyes fell on solicitous Dale. His peripheral vision told him that they were the only ones conscious in the entire room. He decided to let the young Juicer win the match and slowly lowered his hand to the table. In his view, Juicers were little more than glorified squishies with overly inflated egos. Since it seemed that this particular Juicer would be a traveling companion, at least for a short while, it was prudent to just let him win the contest rather than face countless and pointless challenges of manhood.
"Ah ha!" The Juicer exclaimed. "I won! I won!"
"Indeed you did, friend!" Kirk said, being gracious in his staged defeat. "Might I then, have the name of the one that bested me?"
The Juicer shot his hand out to the borg. "Folks call me Chip!"
"And I am Kirk Yager of the New German Republic." He grasped his new friend's hand. "Well met."
"Well met." Chip agreed. Then he turned to Matthew. "So when do we leave?"
"This morning." Matthew replied automatically. Then he looked around again at his crew. "Better make that tomorrow morning."
When everyone was up and about, introductions were made. It was also revealed that Kirk had no vehicle while Chip had a Speedster Hover cycle. Kirk was paired up with Don so that each of the trucks had someone riding shotgun. It was agreed that Chip could ride ahead of the main party as a scout.
The next destination was discussed and a route planned using dated maps. Early in the morning they departed for the capital of the Coalition States, Chi-Town.
