Chapter 267
Kyle’s heartbeat thundered in his ears at the last sentence. The entire time Angela had been speaking, his interest grew. If there was a chance, no matter how remote, that his friends were alive, he would want to see them return. He was about to ask some clarifying questions, but Garth beat him to the punch.
“How large is the search area?” the grizzled veteran asked, excitement palpable in his voice.
“It is extensive. There are three different residential planets in the system, though myriad asteroids that support life are floating around the system’s central star.” Angela paused, a perfectly manicured finger tapping against her chin. “Unless we are profoundly lucky, I expect that this assignment will be measured in years, not months.”
“What are the average grades of the worlds?” Skippy asked, matching Garth’s eagerness, though for an entirely different reason.
“The residential worlds are only E Grade, with token D Grades heading security on each. The asteroids are another story. Many of them are the size of small moons, and carry D Grade organisms. High-level scans and our history in the area don’t indicate any C Grade presences, however we aren’t looking to take chances. With Malcolm around, I have confidence that any issues that may arise will be dealt with swiftly.”
Kyle remembered hearing about a couple of Benjamin’s uncles in C Grade, and assumed Malcolm to be one of them. Garth and Chester both seemed more relaxed by the news, though Skippy appeared to be a little deflated. He’s probably not far off from C Grade himself, Kyle thought.
Angela steepled her hands on the desk, and looked at each of them in turn. “Now, you’ve heard what I’ve had to say. If you have more questions, I am happy to clarify further. Though from the look of things, you each appear to have an answer. For the sake of time, let’s hear them.”
Garth was the first to stand. “I will go. If possible, I’d like to bring my team along as well, though I will have to confirm with them. I’m not sure if you’ve seen their files, but they’re each progressing nicely,” Garth looked about to continue, but was silenced by a look from Angela.
“I am familiar with your team, and your unique synergies,” she said. “Invitations will be sent to them as well, but know that time is short. They will also be under your supervision in the field.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Garth replied.
Chester stood after, bowing respectfully. “My team and I will also go, naturally. We appreciate your trust, and look forward to serving in this capacity.”
Angela gave Chester a curt nod, and the foreman sat down. No surprise there, Kyle thought. He couldn’t imagine Chester Drake willfully choosing to avoid a special assignment. Given his involvement with Earth’s first contact, he also suspected that there was some responsibility resting on his shoulders.
Still, the idea that Chester’s whole team would be going was interesting. That meant Randolph, Themestra, and Rochelle. He hadn’t kept in touch with the captain since they parted ways, with her work schedule keeping her away from the Hub. It would be nice to see her, Kyle mused, thinking back on fond memories of their time together.
“Will Duroc be going?” Skippy’s question snapped Kyle back to the present. He’d assumed that Duroc was still with Benjamin, and his curiosity grew.
“Duroc is still indisposed,” Angela said. “Once his business at home has been concluded, we may consider getting him sent out to meet you all, depending on his circumstances. For now, none of our plans center around his inclusion.”
“Things aren’t as boring when Duroc is around,” Skippy said with a huff, crossing his arms. “Kyle, are you going? At least you’re somebody I can spar with.”
All the attention in the room shifted to Kyle, and for a moment, he felt the pressure of expectations. It would be easy to say “yes,” and to get thrown into another excursion, another adventure. Corthian Mining was sure to be willing to provide him some equipment, and if the price was right, it would be a lucrative assignment.
Then, a gentle nudge of encouragement. Kyle felt a sad smile cross his face, and he met Angela’s eyes. “I won’t be able to join, at least not now.” He considered offering excuses, but decided to go with a simple truth. “As I’m newly returned from my last assignment, I have a lot to catch up on, and I need to take time to consolidate some of my gains.”
“What?” Skippy protested. “That’s no fun at all!”
“Understood,” Angela said, the steel in her voice cutting Skippy off before he could ramble further. “Mr. Mayhew, may we keep you apprised of the situation? We would be happy to negotiate with the Courier’s Guild as the assignment progresses. Your skills may prove useful to us, after all.”
“Certainly,” Kyle said. “Suierrillax, my Guild Liaison, manages my contracts. Your office will need to work with her to get a special job put through, but I promise to give it top consideration if the timing works out well.”
“Excellent,” Angela said. “I’ll ensure Leonard is briefed. It appears our business here is concluded, Mr. Mayhew. You are welcome to see yourself out while the rest of us discuss the detailed scope of the job.”
“Fine,” Skippy pouted. “Maybe I’ll convince Malcolm or one of the other foremen to spar with me.”
“Thank you, Ms. Corthus,” Kyle said, turning to leave. “Oh, and Skippy? Be careful,” Kyle shot over his shoulder, tossing a look at Garth. “If you’re not careful, Garth and his team might start catching up to you.”
Garth looked surprised at the comment, while Skippy gave the swordsman an appraising look. With that, he left, a smile on his face.
C.H.A.D.D. waited until Kyle took the teleporter out of Corthian Mining territory before finally speaking. [I THINK YOU MADE THE CORRECT DECISION, DR. MAYHEW.]
“I think I did too, C.H.A.D.D.,” Kyle said. “Hopefully the expedition goes well, and our friends are still alive.”
By now, it was early in the afternoon. Since he was already in a Gray Conglomerate district, Kyle did a quick search, tracking down a few nurseries nearby that dealt in more exotic plants. He only purchased a few seed packets, with the most valuable takeaway being information on Gray Conglomerate worlds that had these species natively.
The plants that C.H.A.D.D. found most interesting were a type of shrub with unusually high moisture retention, tuber seeds with specialized roots for digging through stone, and finally a flower that, to quote the drone, “had unique leaves.”
The next several days before his visit to Marcus Kulhavey were restful, punctuated by the occasional update from Suierrillax on his previous assignment. Otherwise, he practiced with the tomes, and provided C.H.A.D.D. with as much mana as he could muster. The World Tree Seed was insatiable, and the drone was busy at work rebuilding some of the constructs that had gotten used up on Er’Mithren.
Finally, it was time. Kyle found himself in the Gray Conglomerate once more, standing before the teleporter that would take him to Marcus Kulhavey’s workshop. For some reason, he felt more anxious about this meeting than he had the one with Corthian Mining. What will he be like? Kyle wondered.
[IT IS YOUR TURN, DR. MAYHEW,] C.H.A.D.D. said softly as the teleporter opened up.
Kyle nodded, pulling up the coordinates on his nav bracelet. The space around him distorted for a moment, and Kyle found himself standing on a well-maintained platform in the middle of a wasteland. Red stone and sand stretched as far as the eye could see, a strange half-light making the landscape seem even more desolate.
Kyle stepped off the platform, only now noticing a system of railways crossing the land, intersecting near the teleportation platform. Sure enough, a long, sleek train was racing down one of the nearby tracks. Not on the tracks, Kyle realized. Over them. The train appeared to be using some sort of magnetic technology to float over the thin tracks in the ground, allowing it to move unimpeded.
It made an impossibly sharp turn, and then pulled up to the teleportation platform. There was a buzz as the train slowed to a stop, and a deep voice echoed out from somewhere beneath the platform itself.
“You must be Kyle. Hop on the train, and R.O.D. will see you to my workshop. The commute will take a while, but that’s by design.”
“Thank you, Mr. Kulhavey –“ Kyle began, before the voice continued.
“This is a prerecorded message, set to play every time a train arrives. I’ll get a notice when you actually board, so don’t try and spark up a conversation.”
The door to the train opened, and a floating, spherical drone with long antennae protruding from its side floated up to him. In bright red letters, “Railway Operations Drone” was printed, with particular emphasis on the first letter of each word. R.O.D. it is, Kyle thought.
[PLEASE, PRESENT YOUR CREDENTIALS,] R.O.D. said.
Kyle did as he was asked, allowing his nav bracelet to display his Courier’s Guild licensure, as well as his invitation.
[CREDENTIALS CONFIRMED. PLEASE, ENTER THE PASSENGER AREA AND SIT DOWN. REFRESHMENTS WILL BE PROVIDED SHORTLY.]
With that, R.O.D. floated back to the front of the train, Kyle following behind. There were a dozen seats available in the first car of the train, making him feel eerily alone as it lifted and sped off across the landscape. As they traveled, Kyle saw dozens of large warehouses and factories dotting the wasteland. Drones and other trains moved this way and that, large mechanical components zipping along the railways.
[GREETINGS, GUEST MAYHEW,] the service drone called out.
Kyle felt the small drone approaching, and turned to look at it. It was small, boxy, and traveled on two large treads that fit perfectly inside the aisle. It was polished chrome, with the writing on its side reading “Service Assistant Machine,” with emphasis once again on the first letters of the word.
S.A.M. continued before Kyle could respond. [ON BEHALF OF KULHAVEY INDUSTRIAL SOLUTIONS AND MANUFACTURING, PLEASE ENJOY THESE REFRESHMENTS. YOU WILL BE ARRIVING AT YOUR DESTINATION IN APPROXIMATELY TWENTY-THREE MINUTES.]
A tray opened up on the drone’s chassis, revealing a container with mixed nuts and a can of cola.
Nostalgia filled Kyle as he sipped on the drink, letting its sweetness wash over him. Since his arrival at the Hub, he’d never had anything that quite got it right, but this was flawless.
S.A.M. came back shortly to take the can and empty bowl, and soon the train began to slow. Kyle could see them approaching the largest factory yet, although the tracks turned and pulled off, revealing an entirely out of place wooden structure. It was one story high, made of large, treated lumber. It sported a couple of large glass windows, and the word “Saloon” was written in neat text on a sign that hung from a wooden stake out front.
A ping resounded through the cabin as R.O.D.’s voice rang out. [YOU HAVE REACHED YOUR DESTINATION. THANK YOU FOR TRAVELING WITH US, AND DO COME AGAIN.]
Kyle stepped off the train, which promptly sped off after his departure. He looked at the saloon, from which he felt the distinct aura of a C Grade, and a powerful one. C.H.A.D.D. sent encouragement through their bond, and with a stabilizing breath, he walked up the wooden stairs and stepped through the swinging doors.
The interior was simple wood, immaculately maintained. Several large, wooden tables with what appeared to be hand-carved chairs were spread out throughout, and a large bar covered the length of the interior, bottles of different liquor neatly ordered behind it.
Of course, Kyle’s attention was focused on the man behind the bar. Marcus Kulhavey wasn’t a large man, though his frame carried with it the muscle that only came from a lifetime of work. He wore blue denim overalls and a red checkered shirt, contrasting against his dark complexion. Other than thick eyebrows and a bushy moustache, he was completely bald.
Marcus appeared to be deeply focused on polishing a glass, though he stopped the moment Kyle walked in. Deep brown eyes met Kyle’s and the two of them stared at each other in silence for a moment.
“Mr. Kulhavey, I’m Kyle Mayhew. Thank you for seeing me, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Well I’ll be damned,” Marcus said, setting the glass down and hopping over the bar. He walked up to Kyle, giving an appraising look before nodding and extending his hand. “You’re the spitting image of Clark in his youth, anybody ever tell you that?”
“Honestly, it’s hard to think of my grandfather as anything other than an old man,” Kyle said, smiling despite himself at the comment. He took Marcus’s hand, and felt the rough calluses across his palm.
Marcus snorted. “I suppose we all get old sooner or later. Come on, grab a seat.” He gestured to a nearby table, and Kyle sat down. Marcus sat across from him, and a moment later a flying drone appeared, bringing two glasses and a bottle of amber liquid.
“Now,” Marcus said, his deep voice serious. “I know we have a few things to talk about, but some things take priority.” With that, he popped the wax seal on the bottle of liquor and poured them each a glass.
“To Clark Mayhew,” Marcus clanked his glass against Kyle’s. “Finest man I ever I knew.”
Kyle raised his glass, then drank deeply, the liquor surprisingly smooth as it went down, a pleasant burn lingering in his throat.
“Now,” Marcus said, pouring himself another drink. “Tell me about what happened to Earth.”