Dawn of Procyon (2 page)

Chapter 2

Nine hours earlier
PSD 29-212: 0708 hours

Landry was the first one into the workshop that morning, and that was business as usual. Landry was
always
the first one in the workshop. That was because Landry didn’t have a life outside of work. On the desolate rock that orbited the binary stars Procyon A and B, the planet they called Proc-One (or Proc-Rock, or Proc-Vegas, depending on who you asked) there was not much to do beyond Landry’s four walls. Outside the incessant whir of pneumatic drills and the clatter of wrenches, there was just a ten minute walk to his tiny dormitory, then dinner and sleep.

That was the way he liked it.

Of course, there were diversions at the outpost if you looked hard enough. Down at the Cross, there were bars and a nightclub—although that was a pretty loose term, given its state—even a worn basketball court over near the entrance to Outpost Control for those looking to get sweaty. There were cybergames and television shows piped in from Earth, reruns, for the most part. There were groups who got together and played bridge, chess or board games. There were things to do, no question about that. The lifestyle out here was what you made of it, and he knew that.

But Landry preferred to stick to himself. He worked long hours in the workshop among the broken machines, hammering and welding and replacing, and reviewing the tasks completed by the Optechs who worked under him.

And when he was done, he went back home to eat and wait out the night.

Then he came back and did it all again.

That was his routine, and it had been for several years now.

That morning, when Gus came clattering through the workshop door with an odd expression on his face, Landry somehow knew that his carefully constructed regimen was about to be thrown into chaos.

“Hey, Landry!” Gus called, stuffing his wrinkled uniform shirt into his cargo pants. He was one of the civilian pilots who worked the outpost, flying scout-class aircraft around the planet for any number of day-to-day activities such as array tower maintenance or geological surveys. “Thought I’d find you here.”

“Where else would I be?” Landry said as he plugged a cable into the diagnostic port of the mudhopper on which he’d been working.

“Who knows? Thought you might have been hosting one of those all-night dance parties again back at your place,” Gus said with a wry smile as he approached.

“Funny guy. You should get up early more often.” Landry tapped the diagnostic card as he attempted to bring it online. “Looks like it sharpens your wit.”

Gus gave him a pat on the shoulder. “No, that’s the bucket of coffee I just drank.” He widened his eyes and waggled his fingers beside his head. “I’m buzzing.”

Landry gave him a lopsided grin. “You’re always buzzing.”

“Hey,” Gus said, glancing about, “I have something to ask you, but you need to listen until the end before you say yes or no.”

Landry lifted a screwdriver and began to unscrew the diag card. “Judging by the way you phrased that, I’m gonna go ahead and say no, right up front.”

“No, come on, man,” Gus said, his frivolity gone. “This is for real.”

Landry stopped what he was doing and turned to look at him. Gus seemed edgy about something, Landry thought. If it had been anyone else, Landry would have told them to go away, but he had to admit that Gus wasn’t a bad guy. In fact, he was a good friend, the only one Landry had on this whole planet. He was genuine and honest, and Landry had grown fond of him in spite of the fact that Landry was happy being by himself most of the time.

“Yeah, okay. I’m listening.”

Gus took a moment, considering his words. “You know that array tower that went down last week? A few hundred clicks east of here?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“You’re certified to fix those, aren’t you? You could repair it?”

“Hey, you know me,” Landry said. “I can fix anything.
Apparently
.”

“So, all I’m asking is that you come out with me and patch it up. I’ll pilot the scout, you fix the array. We can get it done in a few hours.”

Landry considered for a moment, then turned and pulled the diag card free of its slot. He ran his eye over the capacitors that jutted from the printed circuit board.

“We can’t do that, Gus,” he said.

“Why not?”

“Don’t play dumb. Because fixing that array tower is a low priority task.”

“Low priority? That array is the only thing keeping us safe, man! Pinging the cosmos, combing the airwaves for any Argoni warships that might enter the system—”

“And there are over two hundred other towers just like it spread out across the planet. There’s an overlap of fifteen or twenty arcminutes between each. One dead array doesn’t amount to much.”

“But still, we need every bit of help we can get. I’m hearing we’re getting our you-know-whats handed to us in this war.”

“From who?”

“The Marines.”

Landry made a disparaging sound in his throat. “They’re just screwing with you, Gus.”

“Yeah, but—”

“The UEM, those Marines you’re so friendly with, have commandeered the services of every Optech on this outpost, including me, because they’re shipping off-world in three days.” Gus opened his mouth, but Landry cut him off. “
Seventy-two hours
. Which means anyone leaving the outpost without authorization will get thrown into a deep, dark dungeon at the bottom of the Mines. You get me?”

“There’s no dungeon at the bottom of the Mines.”

“But you get my meaning.” Landry tossed the diag card away and went hunting for a replacement. He wondered why he had to explain this to Gus. Everyone understood that the Optechs were the jacks-of-all-trades at outposts like Proc-One. One minute they were fixing a broken transaxle on a T1-X heavy transport; the next, their heads were buried in the nacelle of a Seagull or a Silverwing Raven; and the next they were knocking dust out of an oxygen conversion assembly in a plant room in the outpost epidermis. Their fingers were in everything. They were the lifeblood of the outposts, the grease between the joints that kept everything running smoothly.

They were in high demand, and Gus knew it.

“Listen,” Gus said, “I’ll buy you a whole
crate
of those chocolate roll things you love from the cafeteria on Minus Four.”

“Tempting, but no. Gus, seriously.” He clasped the pilot on the shoulder and moved to another box of parts. “Don’t worry about that stupid array tower. It can wait.”

“C’mon. Not even for a lifetime supply of chocolate rolls?” Gus drew a crumpled packet from his pocket, containing what appeared to be a squashed and half-melted chocolate roll. “You live on these things.”

“You’re carrying treats around in your pockets now?” Landry laughed. “What am I, your pet dog?”

“No, you’re my friend,” Gus said.

“How about I roll over and play dead? Will you give me that mangled chocolate roll for doing that?”

“This is serious, Landry!” Gus all but shouted.

Landry turned and stared at him, the smile evaporating from his face. “What’s going on? Why are you all worked up over this?”

“I just am.”

“Look, wait until the Marines are gone, and I’ll personally take a ride with you to fix it next week. After that, I might even whip your butt down at the hoop—”

“No, I can’t wait. It has to be today.”

Landry gave him a skeptical look. Now he was really beginning to wonder what this was all about. Gus was acting weird, he thought, and his insistence on getting the job done was a little over the top. Landry wondered if there was an ulterior motive at play.

“Why don’t you just level with me, Gus? Why does it have to be today?” Landry asked.

“It just does.”

“So what about the jobs waiting in the workshop? I’ve got seven crits on my work list today.
Seven
. You’ll have to find someone else.” Landry rummaged through a box of old and dusty circuit boards.

“There
is
no one else. Come on, man,” Gus pleaded. He sounded desperate. “I’m the only friend you’ve got around here. You don’t want to lose me, do you?”

Landry turned to the workbench and found another diag card. “There are two thousand people in this outpost who don’t like me. Adding one more makes it two thousand and one, which is statistically insignificant.”

“Don’t throw that math stuff—”

“And besides, I have friends around here. Plenty of them.”

“Oh yeah?” Gus said.

“Yeah.”

“Who?”

“That guy who loiters around Shen’s Snack Bar, down at the Cross. The guy with the beard.”

“‘The guy with the beard?’” Gus said, incredulous.

“Yeah.”

“That’s all you can tell me about him? A vague description? You two must really be tight, man.”

Landry held up a pair of linked fingers. “Like conjoined twins, buddy. We’re inseparable.”

“I’ve never even seen you with him—”

“Look, Gus. I’m sorry, but I’m not doing this. First, I’m a supervisor. My job is here in the workshop,
supervising
. Second, it’s pointless. You try to fly a scout out of here and they’ll shut it down as soon as you get it out of the airlock.”

“Don’t give me that excuse, Landry. We both know there are ways around that.”

Landry stood there with the diag card hanging limply from his hand. “Are you telling me you want to rip out the transponder? Are you completely
nuts
, Gus?”

“I’ll pay you, man.” Gus had a wild look in his eyes now, like a man on the edge. “Whatever you want.”

Landry stiffened in surprise and anger. “Why would you say that to me? Do you think this is about money?” He tossed the card back on the bench and began to walk away. “I’ve got work to do—”

“Landry . . .”

Landry kept walking, then stopped. He turned back to Gus, disconcerted.

Gus had slumped against the workbench, covering his face.

He was sobbing.

“Gus?” Landry hesitated. “Are you—?”

“I’m sorry,” Gus said, clearing his throat. “It’s just . . . you were my last hope.”

Landry walked back toward him. “Last hope of what?”

“They’re going to send me home, okay?” Gus said, his face reddened, tears welling in his eyes. “I’m on the ride off-world in three days. They’re gonna fold me back to Earth.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s not the broken array I’m going out there for. I’m sorry I lied to you.”

“Great, this just gets better and better. So what’s the deal?”

“I was out on a surveying mission with one of the geologists last week, flew him out to a location not far from the array. It got late, curfew was looming, so we had to hurry to get back to the outpost.”

“And?” Landry said.

“I left one of the storage modules from the scout sitting out there in the dirt. Now I can’t go back and get it.”

“So what?”

“So when they finish the inventory tomorrow, they’re going to see it’s missing. That’s an infraction, and I’ve already had two in the last three months.”

“Strike three,” Landry muttered.

“Yeah. That means dismissal. A ticket home.” He wiped the moisture from the corners of his eyes. “See, I figure if I can sneak out and get it, I could say it was just misplaced here at the base. I’d dodge the infraction notice.”

“So where do I come into this, if you don’t need an Optech to work on the array?”

“Hauling the storage module and fitting it back into the scout is a two man job. I can’t do it by myself.”

“Couldn’t one of your pilot buddies help you out?”

“Those guys talk too much amongst themselves. You know what they’re like. Word will get out.”

Landry shook his head. “Gus, this is dumb. Don’t you know what would happen if they found out we went AWL?”

“I know, it wouldn’t be good.”

“Worse than a little infraction notice.”

“But if I do nothing, I’m finished anyway.” His expression crumpled, and tears welled in his eyes again. “You should have seen their faces, the day I landed this gig, Landry. My parents, my sister. My little brother. Old Nana. They were so proud.”

“Look, Gus—”

“Every pay check I earn goes back to them, you know?” He stared fervently at Landry. “Every spare buck. You know how hard they’re doing it back home, Landry. We’ve been fighting those Toads for seventeen years now, and every year things get harder. They need the money I earn out here. My dad’s sick, he can’t work right now. And there’s no way I can earn this kind of cash anywhere else.” He slumped back, defeated. “When they hear that I’m heading home, disgraced, I just can’t . . .” He buried his head in his hands again.

“What a mess,” Landry sighed. “What a
complete
mess.”

But, standing there looking at him, Landry couldn’t deny that he’d been affected by Gus’ words. Although he was a bit of a screwball, Gus’ intentions were pure. He was a good guy, Landry thought. He didn’t deserve to be dismissed because some worthless storage module was sitting out there in the wasteland.