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CHAPTER 15

The conexes were suspended over the treetops, about two hundred feet over the terrain with the Excelsior hovering just above their tops. They were all decidedly stuck together by their flexmet walls. Alfred One and Two were hovering in view above and beyond them and the whole drone swarm was up and behind them, each carrying a large ball of flexmet. All as planned. So far so good.

Jason walked down the passenger stairs and confidently hopped to the top of the nearest conex. That was floating two hundred freaking feet off the ground.

No pressure.

The conex didn’t even bob from his additional weight but the surface wasn’t perfectly solid. He could feel the conexes moving around as Herman, still inside one of them, adjusted to maintain position against the wind.

“Need a hand?” Jason asked as Storm balked at the bottom of the stairs.

“This is officially crazy, you realize that?” Storm said but she hopped off the stairs and landed fine. Then she swayed slightly. “Whoa. Unstable platform.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Jason said as if he’d done this a billion times before.

Nobody had done this before.

“Keep one drone on the conexes,” Jason said. “Now we test the stripping method. Get Alfred One over here. I need to see this.”

“Roger,” Jewel said.

“Deploy the drones,” Jason said. “Tom, we’re solid. You can continue your schedule.”

“Roger that,” Tom called. “Good luck.”

“Fortune favors the bold,” Jason said. “And thanks.”

Alfred One came over, wrapped a seat around him and lifted him in the air.

When he was suspended over the forest, he pointed to one of the trees.

“Start stripping on tree one,” Jason said.

Two of the drones dropped in through the canopy and there was a sudden sound of dropping branches.

“What is happening?” Storm asked.

“Deploy two drones away from the branches to observe stripping action,” Jason said.

* * *

The pair of drones had a monomolecule-thin line of flex between them. As Storm watched they would fly up on either side of one of the branches of the forest giant and it would be neatly severed, dropping to the forest floor. Then the tree was topped, leaving a denuded trunk.

The tree was debranched and topped, “stripped,” in less than five minutes.

“Back to the conexes,” Jason said.

When he landed, he hooked a section of flexmet to his waist, took his rifle and flexed it to the top of the conex then walked to the edge of the conex raft and sat down.

“See if Alfred Two can pull it over by himself using a tractor beam,” Jason said.

Storm carefully sat down next to him to watch.

“That’s . . . cool and awful at the same time,” Storm said.

“Flex has a billion and one uses,” Jason said distractedly.

“So, this is the plan,” Storm said. “Clear an LZ using bots and drones. You could have said.”

“I hate telling people what I’m thinking about,” Jason said. “If I get it wrong, and I have, people lose confidence in the boss. So, I keep as much of it to myself as I can until I have to tell people.”

Alfred Two had positioned itself near the top half of the tree and a purple beam of light flashed out as it used a pressor beam to push to the side.

The tree bent at first then slowly started to topple.

Branches of other giants were stripped away as the massive tree crashed to the ground.

“Section,” Jason said.

Six drones dropped to ground level and started wrapping the trunk in flexmet. In seconds it was sectioned with the lowest section still attached to its massive root ball.

“Now see if the tractors can move the root ball to the specified location,” Jason said.

The two bots flashed out blue tractor beams and, obviously straining, picked up the root ball and moved it into position between two other trees.

“Rolling action?” Jason asked.

The bots then moved to the sections of trunk and rolled and stacked them alongside the root ball.

“Chop and fill,” Jason said.

The drone swarm dropped to ground level and started cutting up the fallen branches. The sections they could pick up, small branches, they took to the open hole left by the root ball and dropped them in. Sections that were too heavy, the actual limbs of the tree, were picked up by the tractors and moved to the edge of the hole.

“We’re not going to want for firewood,” Storm said.

* * *

Over the next three hours the LZ was cleared out and prepped. A half dozen forest giants were stripped and toppled, their root balls propped up to provide a defense around the camp, their sectioned trunks used to create a wall as well, then their branches used to fill gaps creating a sturdy abatis. When the holes were filled with branches, the tractors would roll the sections of limbs down on top, pressing the mass down with their pressor beams. When the area was clear of all the big trees, the ground was cleared and scraped to level with additional dirt put into the filled root holes.

As the LZ was being cleared, a crocodile turned up. Of course. The river was smaller but the croc wasn’t.

The trees and brush along the river had already been cleared and the croc looked into the open area with interest. When trees fell, sometimes food fell with it. Other predators had turned up with the same idea but Jason had had the drones chase them off with sonic blasts.

Crocs ignored those. This one started clambering up out of the river to look for treats.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Jason said, shaking his head. He’d had Herman move the conex raft around so he could watch the croc.

“Tell me you’re not going to kill this one with flex,” Storm said.

“Be my guest,” Jason said, waving at it. “With one note. I’m aware that you can, metaphorically, shoot the eye out of a gnat at a thousand yards.”

“We . . . did a calculation on that in AMTU,” Storm said. “Technically, my MOA was so fine that if it was a bullet exactly as big as a gnat’s eye, it would hit the gnat, certainly, somewhere in the skull region at one thousand meters.”

“So, you can literally shoot the eye out of a gnat,” Jason said.

“Assuming a small-enough bullet would make the shot,” Storm said. “Yes. I have literally shot the wing off a fly at seven hundred and fifty meters. And I did it to several flies to prove it wasn’t a fluke. Flying flies. Without hitting the flies in the body. I did that in high school.”

“That is insane,” Jason said. “Okay. But anyway. You can feel free to get further away than I was because that was probably . . . too close, but . . . not a thousand yards. Roger?”

“Roger that, boss,” Storm said. “Alfred, I need a lift!”

“Stormy, grab your gun,” Jason muttered as the riflewoman went to grab same.

He watched as she coaxed Alfred into the right position with hand and arm movements and lined up the shot. She was out over the river and because of the angle higher than the container raft.

The croc was in the middle of the clearing, under the raft, so Jason brought up video in time to see the shot.

Hah. The croc still thrashed. So, .458 was no better than .30-06.

Admittedly, it didn’t thrash as long.

“Jewel,” Jason said. “Discontinue current evolution and put out the defense net. Hundred meters downstream, fifty meters upstream. Also, after the defense net is out, drag that thing to the river, downstream and downwind, take the head off there and have one of the Alfreds bury the head. Little change with the net this time . . . ”

Finally, the camp clearing was done, the croc carcass had been dragged down to the river, the head was buried in a shallow pit, the defense net was out, already killing crocs, and the raft of containers floated to a gentle landing on more-or-less flat land.

“That was impressive,” Storm said. “Usually, you cut the tree down, then trim it.”

“I worked for a tree-cutting company during one of my down periods,” Jason said, looking around. “Lots of climbing, lots of work and very little pay. In stuff like cutting down firs in US forests you trim them after. When you’re cutting around houses, you trim them first. Okay, Jewel, deploy Herman then we’ve gotta fly while the camp gets set. Grab your gun, Storm.”

They both got their guns and were picked up by the Alfreds while Herman rearranged the conexes.

Jason had the Alfreds fly them over to the point of rock and landed to watch the conexes be rearranged. This time he arranged it with three of the conexes on the riverside, three on the land side and two on the upstream and downstream. He’d realized he’d been thinking in terms of Earth cargo containers. There were no “doors” on the end you had to access. You could open them from any direction and load them from any direction.

“By hoary tradition and by current law, who first stands on the bank of a river gets to name it,” Jason said, waving at the river. “All yours.”

“I name this . . . Storm River!” Storm said.

“Wanna make it Storm County as well?” Jason asked.

“Yes,” Storm said.

“Let it be so,” Jason said. “Okay, conexes arranged. Alfreds, a lift to the top of the conexes. Jewel, unpack our friends and line them up there,” he added, pointing to the riverside of the camp.

There was a steep bank down to the ridge of rock and he didn’t see the point of clambering all the way up that and then climbing the conexes.

He got between the river and the coffins and waved his arms.

“Open sesame.”

The coffins opened and as one the five hunters shot up, holding their rifles.

“Whoa there, Tex,” Jason said, laughing.

They all started to climb out and immediately spotted the headless croc as well as the partially submerged carcasses of the other five that had hit the defense net.

“Jesus Crickets,” Duncan said, shaking his head. “Yours?”

“Storm,” Jason said.

“Only one,” she said. “The others were snips.”

“The perimeter water fence is slightly different this time,” Jason continued, pointing up and down river. “I attached it to the trees with netting there to keep out wildlife. One thing I forgot about flexmet. You can key flexmet. This flex is owned by the company. As contractors for Brandywine, you can open any of these cases, use this flexmet, et cetera. But if someone were to come along and try to use it, they would be unable to do so.”

“Wasn’t aware of that, either,” Dovey said.

“It’s a security measure,” Jason said. “But your personal containers are keyed to you personally. Speaking of which, Jewel, those need to come out. Put all the personal containers on the ground inside the conexes. Do that first.”

“Roger,” Jewel said. “The Alfreds need to charge.”

“Keep one on watch while the other charges off of Herman,” Jason sighed. “It’s always something. It’s safe to get down on that point of rock and take a look around. Obviously, the shrimp run is in progress. Just get your feet on the ground but for now stay in the perimeter. And despite the defense net, keep a sharp eye out for crocs.”

He connected some flexmet to the top of the container and abseiled down, then set another one on the conex face, walked over to the bank and abseiled down again. Then, aware he looked like Patton and not caring, stood there with his hands on his hips.

When a croc hit the fence, he didn’t even flinch. Much.

“Jewel,” Jason said. “Remember how we were going to have Alfred and Herman use nets to fish for shrimp?”

“Yes.”

“Could the drones . . . never mind. Simple as this. Need the drones to go dip up some shrimp, easiest way. Break out a pot. Have drones gather dry wood.”

“Cooking already?” Dovey asked, using his rifle sight to spot a buffalo herd upriver.

“You guys just had breakfast,” Jason said. “It’s been hours for Storm and me. Time for lunch.”

“I could eat,” Duncan said, pulling out a monocular for the same purpose. “Anything but print food.”

“I could bag one of those from here,” Storm said, using a monocular also. “Buffalo makes a tasty meal.”

“With respect to your superior prowess, lovey,” Dovey said. “So can we all.”

“It’s three days,” Jason said, holding up his hands. “And we’re all armed.”

“I’m going to make you regret that ‘lovey,’” Storm said, grinning. “Shooting match?”

“We have a two-kilometer-radius lease,” Jason said. “And we don’t actually have two kilometers of range in any direction.”

“Spot the bull,” Storm said, getting in a prone position. “See it?”

“I see the lead bull,” Dovey said.

“See that bug on its withers?” Storm said.

“The green bug,” Dovey said. “I see the green bug. Difficult . . . ”

“See the antenna on the green bug?”

“Now you’re just joking about,” Dovey said.

“Jewel,” Jason said.

“I already had a drone on the way,” Jewel said primly. “It will have to recover the green bug.”

“Wind?” Storm asked.

* * *

Storm held up the green beetle and pointed to the distinct lack of antennae.

The rest of the group just turned away laughing as Dovey shook his head.

“Right,” Dovey said, making a salute. “Last time I call you ‘lovey,’ Storm.”

“Better,” Storm said, dropping the beetle. “And I also don’t take to Stormy. Only my dad got to call me that.”

* * *

“Quick question, boss,” Storm asked quietly as Dovey was cautiously getting some water from the river for lunch.

“Go,” Jason said.

“Do those green bugs have antennae?”

“Yes, they do,” Jason said.

“Whoo.”

* * *

“So, we’re not actually doing anything right now, hoowah?” Ritchie pointed out, peeling another boiled shrimp.

“Bots and drones are recharging,” Jason said, taking a bite of toasted mushroom. “Coffins are being unloaded and cases removed from them and rearranged. And in case you hadn’t noticed, the bots, flex and drones are going to be kinda busy,” he added, pointing to the expanding pile of crocs. To keep them cool they’d been left in the water and were attracting still more as well as other predators.

“Is that a shark fin?” Storm asked, pointing with her chin.

“We’re just upstream from the ocean and it’s flood tide,” Jason said, not even looking up. “So probably yeah. When the bots and drones are recharged, they’ll both start the full survey as well as start harvesting harvestable food while putting out the shrimp trap and recovery system. At which point . . . we’ll still be doing nothing. Because we will be letting the technology do it for us.”

He looked around at the group of experienced hunters and tried not to laugh.

“We’ve got a two-kilometer-radius lease this time to take protein,” Jason said reasonably. “You go out stalking the perfect water buffalo trophy, take the shot and what happens?”

“The game will leave,” O’Callaghan said, expertly peeling another shrimp. “But if bots just decapitate them, no noise. Like slitting the throat on a sentry.”

“As he said,” Jason said. “I waited until most of the game animals were winnowed down to go out and hunt the predators. And even then, only the tigers and leopards. I let the bots take care of wolf packs. There are also six of you. Even with this game load, how many hunters to a two-kilometer circle? There’s an entire planet of trophy animals. And, by the way, where the hell are you going to put the trophies?”

“Point,” Dovey said.

“We let the bots get the lay of the land,” Jason said. “They’ll spot most of the game and get a feel for their movements including the predators. The kill points of the herds that we take for protein are very attractive to the predators, which make them great places to hunt. What’s the mission, Ritchie?”

“Protein for the station,” Ritchie said, shrugging.

“Protein and profit,” Jason said. “Right now, we’re doing exactly what we should be doing: Nothing.”

* * *

“If you really feel like you need to do something,” Jason said, coming up behind Storm, “you can pull out bycatch. Especially any baby crocs. Use flex gloves.”

Storm was standing by the shrimp ladder that carried the caught shrimp up to the conex fort, watching it in fascination.

“Do we seriously catch crocs in this?” Storm asked.

“Wouldn’t be surprised,” Jason said, then pointed to a drone that was on a pole above the ladder. “But that’s what that thing is for. Jewel, pull out some bycatch.”

Fish started flipping out of the ladders and into a waiting case.

“Stop,” Jason said. “It’s not absolutely necessary, ninety-eight percent of what we’re catching is shrimp. But it can be done.”

“This is . . . not what I expected,” Storm admitted, looking out at the river. “Beautiful. Fun. The complete lack of mosquitoes and other biting insects is hard to believe.”

“But sort of boring,” Jason said. “In this case, boring is good. We should be dead right now. We’re right by the river. You’ll notice that Dovey has a hard time coming down by the river at all. He’s from Africa. It’s ingrained to not go near the rivers. So don’t, unless you’ve got a warding net out.”

“Yeah,” Storm said, nodding. “That is a point I will need to remember.”

“Do,” Jason said. “I’d hate to have to inform your family.”

* * *

“How’s it going?” Tim asked.

“The natives are restless,” Jason said. “These are all serious hunters surrounded by bigger game than any they’ve seen in their lives. And I set this thing up so it runs on rails. There’s little issues to figure out but they can do that easily. They’re going stir crazy.”

“So let them hunt,” Tim said, shrugging.

“It drives out the game,” Jason said. “And there are things out there that really can’t be fought easily. They all know about the tigers and crocs and elephants. Dangerous game. They don’t think of wolves as being that big of a deal. Because they’ve been killed down to the point they’re not in most areas. And the ones on earth are tiny in comparison. Even if I send them out in teams, two guns against a wolf pack is a losing proposition. These things are like the wargs in Lord of the Rings.”

“So, what’s the answer?” Tim asked.

“Take out the wolf pack with the drones,” Jason said. “Same as the original site. Reality, I’m being protective. I’m in charge of these guys and I don’t want anybody getting killed. The Americans, even the ones that worked in Africa, are way too complacent about the river. The net’s got them thinking it’s not a big deal. They’re not cautious enough. Or am I being a big baby?”

“You’re not being a baby,” Tim said. “There’ve been fifteen colonists killed so far. And they were all outdoorsmen as well. Possibly not as handpicked but . . . flip side, they’re doing so at their own risk.”

“Let the wild colt run,” Jason said.

“Probably a cultural reference but, yes,” Tim said. “Usual disclaimers.”

“Roger,” Jason said. “Out here. Jewel, meeting at the hooch.”

* * *

The big room occupying the entire ground floor, which would make a great chapel, wasn’t what sold Cade on the building.

It wasn’t the second story that sold him, either, with its many utility rooms that could be subdivided and reconfigured.

Standing in the center of the candidate chapel with Klein, Richter, Diaz, and Parker, he closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the room. It felt good. The echoes sounded right. His heart felt warm about it.

“Feels like a farm,” he said, without intending to do.

“The hell it does,” Parker said.

“I wouldn’t know,” Diaz shot back. “I’m a mechanic.”

“I just mean . . . ” Cade shook his head. “This is a good place.”

The front door opened and a sixth man walked in from the commercial “street” passing in front of the warehouse. He wore a disheveled suit that had been taken in by an unskilled hand and a purple tie whose knot hung loose and open.

“You guys are the syndicate,” the stranger said. “The people who have bought up sixty percent of this warehouse. I’m Broadbent.”

“Good to meet you,” Cade said. “We want to know what you’ll take for your forty percent share of the building.”

“I was hoping to buy you out,” Broadbent said. “I’ve got shares in refineries and processing plants and dropships to spare.”

“Here’s the thing,” Parker said. “We’re buying up the units because we need a place to hold church. And we feel strongly this is the right place.”

Broadbent shook his head, ran his fingers through shaggy hair.

“Listen, I won’t lie, I’ve got a contract already to store meat in this warehouse. Stuff coming up from the surface. Crocodile, buffalo, shrimp. This warehouse is going to make a lot of money. I’m prepared to trade some prime units to you for it. What will it take?”

“Our sixty percent isn’t for sale,” Richter said.

“What if we go into business as partners, then?” Broadbent suggested. “Incorporate, run the warehouse together. With your sixty percent share of the dividends, you go rent a church building somewhere else. This location is just too good to pass up, close as it is to the shuttle bay.”

“Oldham already said this place feels like a farm,” Klein told him. “Pretty sure that’s as close as Cade Oldham gets to having a spiritual experience. We won’t be storing any buffalo meat in here.”

Broadbent cracked his knuckles. “Well, I guess that means I better sell you my units, doesn’t it? I hope you’ve got something good to trade.”


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