Hey, guys. Sorry for the delay. Christmas break, meeting my girlfriend's family for the first time, and spraining my elbow kinda put a damper on my writing schedule. It may be a while until my next chapter, but don't worry. I will get it done! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!
Chapter 4
"Let's see. Manifest says you're offering various scrap metal, computer parts, and a mobile suit drive system. That right?"
Stephen nodded. "That's right."
The older gentleman behind the counter looked up from the clipboard in front of him. His face was hard, but friendly. His hair was mostly gray and his eyes light blue. He struck Stephen as the fatherly type. Firm, but feeling. He spoke, his voice softer than his appearance. "What type of mobile suit drive system are we dealing with, here?"
"It's from an old Zaku I," Stephen replied. "If you've ever worked with a Zaku II, then you know that there's not much difference."
The man nodded slowly. "Is it intact?"
"Mostly. A few parts are missing, the lines are shot, and the whole thing is dented, but with some effort it could probably tick again. Why?"
"Well," the man said, scratching the back of his head, "the Federation is offering a bonus for intact mobile suit parts. Something about incorporating Zeon tech into the new suits. If I can restore it, then I can flip it for a profit."
Stephen smiled. "Well then I'm sure you can get it working. Does that mean you'll take it?"
The man smiled back. "The price looks right to me. Bring it in."
"Excellent!" said Stephen, shaking the man's hand. "I'll tell the driver to haul in the trailer."
"Pleasure doing business with you," the man responded. "What's your name, anyhow?"
"Stephen. Stephen McAvoy. I work for Bullscrap Co.. And what's your name, sir?"
The man chuckled. "Oh, please. I'm not a 'sir.' My name's Davis. Jed Davis. You know, you seem like a nice fella. Wanna throw an old man a bone? What do you say you bring me any mobile suit parts you find first, and I'll pay you an extra 10%?"
Stephen rubbed his chin. "That's not a bad offer," he said. "The thing is, I don't make those decisions. I'll pass your offer on to my boss and see what he says, though. How's that sound?"
Davis shrugged. "Can't ask for better than that, I guess. Wheel your truck into the barn. My boys'll help you get it unloaded."
Davis waved as the truck disappeared down the street before turning back into the main office. Shatner was at the counter, leaning on it with his left hand while sipping a bottle of soda with his right. "Quite a score there, boss. A whole drive system. Not a bad first purchase."
Davis nodded in agreement. "How's it look?"
Shatner took a sip from his bottle. "It's pretty banged up, but with a few retrofitted parts, know-how, and a bit of love, we can get it running again. If we can just get some armor and an internal frame, we'll have the beginnings of a mobile suit."
"Good," said Davis. "And the paint?"
"All set to go. Needless to say, that's the riskiest part. We've rigged a section out back to contain the barrels and any armor parts we get hold of. I suggest we get those ASAP, so we can get started on that part of the process. But I hope you've got a plan for the armaments."
"I do, but it's hardly efficient. We'll either have to get lucky with the scrap they bring in, or we build them from scratch."
"From scratch?" Shatner echoed. "How are we supposed to do that?"
"We don't need anything complex, like a rifle. But we'll need a heat-hawk at the very least. We can mount some small arms and other antipersonnel weapons to it. We won't be fighting anything big. After the incident at Side 6, the Feddies haven't been stationing mobile suits in the colonies. The most important thing will be the armor. That's why the paint is our top priority. Tell the boys to be careful with it. Those barrels are the only ones in existence. We don't get a second shot at this."
Shatner grinned. "God bless the prototypes of the Zeon R&D teams. Figures, doesn't it? They get a working formula and they only make one batch."
Stephen swiped his employee ID through the slot on the timeclock. The device hummed for a split second, then beeped, displaying the message, "Punch-out complete: Stephen McAvoy." He placed the card back into his wallet, pausing as he spotted another card inside. It was a photo ID, similar to his work ID. But something was different about this one. The top of the card read United Earth Federation Space Force. It was his old military ID. In all the hustle and bustle of cleaning up A Baoa Qu, the Federation had forgotten to confiscate it. Stephen frowned. Perhaps he should take it to the outpost and turn it in. No, it was just an access card, and they'd have taken his name off of the approved personnel lists by now. It wouldn't grant him access anywhere they wouldn't want him to go. No need to make a trip halfway across the colony. He closed his wallet, placed it in his back pocket, and made his way to the exit.
Outside he moved toward the car rental station, reaching for his debit card, when something ran into him from behind. A small pair of arms wrapped around his abdomen.
"Steve! You're back! Lucie said you were but I never got to see you!"
Stephen turned around to see who was speaking, but the kid held on tight and he only succeeded in spinning him around. He reached down to his waist and forcefully released himself. He swung the kid where he could see him. A small face stared up at him, grinning widely. It was a familiar face. Stephen grinned back. "Mikey! Hey, buddy! I was wondering when you'd find me." He looked around. "Are you here all by yourself? Where's your mom?"
Mikey shook his head. "Mom went in some boring clothes store and told me to wait outside, but I saw you and ran over."
Stephen nodded. "OK. Tell you what, walk me me there so I can say hi to her too. I haven't seen her either." Mikey nodded back. Stephen placed his hand on the boy's head, his wide palm nearly smothering his bright blonde hair. "Right," he said. "Lead on."
Mikey squirmed and brushed Stephen's hand away. "Hey, you can't do that anymore! I'm nine now! I'm too old for that!"
"Ah, I see," said Stephen, repressing a chuckle. "My apologies, Mr. Baxter. Please, show me where your mother went."
Catherine Baxter emerged from the fitting room sporting a small black dress and gazed at her reflection in the full-body mirrors. It was a nice dress, and it suited her. Almost. The smooth surface of the tightly pulled fabric contrasted with the wrinkles forming under her eyes and around the corners of her mouth. She sighed sadly. It was a dress for a younger woman. Or, at least, a younger looking woman. She looked at the price tag attached under the arm and cringed. It was a dress for a richer woman, as well. She sighed again, taking one last look at her reflection. This could very well be the last time she would ever wear something like this, so she resolved to memorize the image. As she stared at the mirror, she could see outside the store front. People bustled on the street. Rush hour. Everyone was in a hurry to get home from work. She could see Michael, her son, leading a man to the door. She frowned and looked at him hard. Was that...?
She spun around as the shop door opened and the bell above the door chimed softly and the young man stepped in. It was him! She ran toward him. "Steve!" she called, a smile covering every inch of her face. The young man beamed at her, his handsome face looking as warm and inviting as it always had. He opened his arms wide and Catherine threw herself into his embrace. His hold was firm, but also soft. Tears started to flow down her cheeks as she felt the warmth she had missed for so long. She looked at Mikey over Stephen's shoulder. "Mike, wait outside, please. Steve and I have some catching up to do. You can have him when I'm done, all right?"
Mikey looked disappointed but did as he was told, stepping outside and leaning his back against the windows with his arms crossed. Stephen held Catherine at arm's length and looked deep into her dark brown eyes. She shivered. It always felt like he could see all the way through her, and this time was no different. He looked her up and down, his smile growing. "Nice dress," he said.
Catherine blushed. "Is that all you have to say? I haven't seen you for two years, Steve. I thought you were dead, you know." The tears began to flow in earnest and she turned her face away from him. She felt his hand gently brush her tears away and bring her gaze back to him. His soft fingers ran through her blonde hair, sending quivers down her spine. His expression was earnest and concerned.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I should have come to see you. It's just..."
"Lucie, I know," she finished for him. "She's too possessive. I doubt she'd like you coming to visit me. I don't blame her. I wouldn't either."
Stephen was silent for several awkward moments, unsure of what to say. At length, he gestured toward Mikey. "How's he been doing?"
Catherine took a long breath. "He's doing well. Top of his class in P.E., bottom in Math. He has a lot of friends and almost every girl at school has a crush on him. He gets good grades mostly and everyone loves him. Just like his father."
Stephen nodded uncomfortably. He gently rubbed her arm. "And how have you been holding up?"
She smiled up at him, but there was sadness behind it. "How do you think? I'm a 25 year-old single mother who feels like she's 50, working a night shift at a fast food chain and going nowhere. I'm doing just dandy. How about you?"
Stephen pulled her back in for another hug. "Never mind about me. What do you need? Let me help you."
Catherine pushed him away. "You've helped enough. I know you didn't make much in the service, so those checks meant a lot. I don't want to leech off of you anymore. You're starting your own family. Don't tie yourself down with me."
"I can't just leave you hanging. I do care about you, you know."
"But you don't love me, do you?"
Stephen was silent for a full minute. They simply embraced, neither saying a word. "Why don't you at least let me get you that dress?" asked Stephen after several quiet moments.
Catherine shook her head. "I was just about to put it back. It doesn't suit me. I'm hardly the schoolgirl I used to be. I've got wrinkles everywhere and I just don't look young enough for it."
"Things have been hard on you," Stephen agreed. "But I think it looks good on you, and every woman needs at least one nice outfit to wear. Come on. Do something nice for yourself for once."
Catherine smiled. Something in his tone told her arguing was pointless. "You know," she said, "you should take your own advice once in a while. Keep on like this and you'll never have anything."
Stephen laughed, his voice filling her entire body with a comforting warmth. "That's ridiculous. I already have everything I've ever needed or wanted, and money is in neither category. Now let's go to the register before they kick us out."
Lucie looked up from her book as the front door opened and Stephen walked in. She rose from the recliner, wrapping her pajama-clad body in her blanket, and moved beside him. He looked at her, poker faced.
"You're late," said Lucie. "Where have you been? You missed dinner."
"Sorry," he said. "I grabbed fast food on my way back."
Lucie crossed her arms. "You didn't call."
Stephen flinched. "I know. I'm sorry, but I figured you'd rather hear from me in person."
"Why?"
He scratched his head, searching for the right words. "I saw Catherine today." He cringed as he sensed Lucie tense up.
"What do you mean, you saw her? Did you just see her, or did you stop and talk to her?"
"We talked," said Stephen. "Mikey bumped into me, and we went and had a talk."
"OK. What did you talk about?" Her tone was flat, revealing nothing. Stephen shifted nervously, his mind scrambling for words.
"Nothing special. I just asked her how she was doing and if she or Mikey needed anything."
"Right," said Lucie sarcastically. "That's so terrible that you couldn't call to tell me about it."
Stephen scowled. "Hey, now, don't be that way. I know how much you don't like me being around her. I just didn't want you worrying about it while you waited for me to get back."
"Too late," replied Lucie. "I was more worried when I heard nothing at all from you. It's not like you to leave me in the dark."
"I know," Stephen responded, hanging his head slightly. "I'm sorry. You're right. I should've called."
Lucie sighed. "So did she need anything?"
"Not really. She said she wants me to stop helping her. Says I'm wasting my money."
"For once, we agree on something," said Lucie. "You've been sending them money for a long time now. You have no obligation to pay for that woman or for Mikey."
"Yes I do," Stephen answered. "Mikey is my son. It's my responsibility to see he's taken care of."
"Then adopt him," Lucie shot back, her face growing red.
"You know as well as I do Catherine would never give him up, and I'm not about to take him from her. He's all she has. I won't do that to her."
"Why do you care so much?" Lucie demanded. "It was a mistake! You two had a fling in high school. So what? It's over now. Mistakes like that happen all the time. Why do you insist on staying in the past?"
Stephen glared at her. "Don't you ever call Mike a mistake again! Or Catherine! They're people, too. People whose lives I ruined by not taking responsibility sooner. The least I can do is help them. I thought you, of all people, would understand that."
"I understand wanting to help," Lucie answered flatly. "But I also understand having limited resources. You don't make enough to support two families at once. Before long we're going to have children of our own, and you'll have to choose whether to support my kids or hers, because you can't do both. You're right; part of being a man is taking responsibility for your mistakes, but not at the expense of your wife and kids."
"So what, then?" demanded Stephen. "Do I just leave Catherine to rot? After everything I've done to her, you expect me to just abandon them? I can't do that!" His face burned red. His hands shook and angry tears started to well up in his eyes. He clenched his fists. "I'm sick of being told to leave my people behind!"
Lucie recoiled. She had hit a nerve and she knew it. She gently laid her hand on Stephen's shoulder, but he swatted it away and pushed past her, heading for the couch in the living room. "Steve-" she began. Stephen held up his hand with a stopping gesture. He was done talking, his mind vacant from the comfort of the house and back in the cockpit of his mobile suit, reliving memories Lucie could never begin to understand. He gaze fell to her feet, clouded by tears of regret. Her voice cracked. "Steve, I... I'm sorry," she choked out. Stephen didn't answer. Instead, he laid himself on the couch, his back to her as he tried to escape from his own thoughts. He wrapped his arms around himself in frustration. There would be no sleep for him tonight. The fear of nightmares was sure to keep him awake.
"I tell you what, Kate sure knows her stuff," said Arthurs, turning himself upside down to get a better angle at the Zaku's cockpit. "She was talking about groups I've never even heard of. I've never felt so ignorant in my life. Lucky for me, she got excited whenever she talked about one I didn't know, saying she'd have to have me listen to them, get this, at her place! Man, I think I might've just hit the jackpot!"
Stephen grunted and shifted in the mobile lifter's seat. He grabbed the control sticks and moved the manipulators into position, grabbing hold of a chunk of armor and forcefully ripping it off the chassis. Arthurs stared at him.
"You know, you've been awfully quiet today. You doin' all right?" he asked.
Stephen pushed the scrap toward the salvage area. "I'm fine. Just tired. Didn't get much sleep."
"Funny," said Arthurs. "That never slowed you down while we were in the service. You goin' soft on me?"
Stephen sighed. "Maybe. Civilian life isn't all it's cracked up to be sometimes."
"What do you mean? Wait, I get it. You and Lucie had a fight didn't you?" Stephen didn't answer. Instead he dug the manipulators into the circuitry and ripped out a clump of wires. Arthurs grinned. "There it is! I'm right, aren't I? Hey, man, relax. Don't look at me like that, I just want to help. Listen, the thing about women is that they think they're always right. It doesn't matter how much you reason with them or prove your own point. If they've got an idea in their heads, then there's no convincing them otherwise. So if you fight against one, you lose. Every time. Doesn't matter who was right at the end of the day; you're still the one who's wrong."
Stephen tossed the wires at the distant Earth. "So where are you going with this?"
"My point is that no matter what you fought about or who said what, you're the one who needs to apologize. So when you go home tonight, stop by a cafe, get her some coffee and chocolate, then walk in, hand them to her and say, 'I'm sorry, baby. I was wrong. Will you forgive me?' And if she cares about you at all, then she'll forgive you. Hell, she might even say she was wrong if you're lucky."
Stephen thought for a moment. "I don't think so. This wasn't just some little squabble. We were arguing about Catherine."
Arthurs stopped cutting circuits for a brief second before continuing again. "Ah... Well, that does make things a little different. But listen, if I'm reading things right, the reason she gets so upset about Catherine is because you're so dense about her. Hey, don't get all pissy on me, just hear me out. How do you think Catherine feels about you?"
Stephen paused, thinking hard. "I don't know. I think she's forgiven me, but I doubt she's all that fond of me."
Arthurs reached down from his perch and smacked Stephen's helmet. "You see? That's what I'm talking about! Listen, man. Catherine loves you. She always did. Why do you think she let you sleep with her in the first place? You know as well as I do that she's not the fooling around type. Not only that, but she also chose to keep your kid and raise him, probably hoping you'd marry her and help her start a family. But that didn't work and you started in with Lucie. So now she's stuck. No other guy wants a girl with that kind of baggage and she knows it. So she's torn between trying to take you for herself and living happily, or leaving you be and letting you be happy. Lucie knows all this and she's afraid of losing you. You're her whole world, you know. So when she hears you talking about Catherine she gets scared."
"Goddammit," Stephen muttered. "I can't stand triangles. I always sucked at trigonometry."
Arthurs chuckled. "Aw c'mon. Cheer up! Most guys would kill to have two pretty girls fighting over him. Granted, not under these circumstances, but still... Anyway, here's my advice. Do the whole coffee and chocolate thing, but go a step further. Let her know what she means to you. Cook for her. Treat her like a princess. Have a wild night and do whatever she wants you to do to her in bed. Just, you know, make her feel special. She needs to know that Catherine isn't a threat and that you love her more than anything else. Get it?"
"Sure," said Stephen, "but what about Catherine?"
"What about her? Which girl do you love? Lucie, right? So leave Catherine alone."
"But-"
"No buts! Catherine wouldn't want you to give up Lucie for her. She might act she does, but she knows she'd regret it later. She doesn't expect, or even really want, you to worry about her. The best thing you can do for her is to just step back and live your life. She'll be fine. Trust me."
Stephen sighed. "Look at me. I'm taking advice from the guy who couldn't get a single date through all of high school. I must really be desperate."
Arthurs smacked his helmet again. "Sure, ha-ha, very funny. I don't see you picking up hot chicks with hipster music talk. Now shut up and help me get this targeting monitor removed. If we're careful we might be able to get the whole thing intact."
Stephen smiled for the first time that day. "Right. Just show me where to grab."
Arthurs grinned. "That's what she said!"
The two friends laughed together, then turned back to their work.
