Body Shop

He sounded desperate, the gravelly voice of somebody too long out in the sand, an old timer. Maybe a good deal, if we could settle on a rate.

"I got to get my partner on the line? She knows what kind of margin we need, what our run rate might be. Just a sec."

Veeeeena!

She came running, naked, into the shop, on full alert.

"Sorry! Just, there's this guy calling, wants to do a regular board swap, runs remotes out in the desert, burns through modules constantly. Open contract! I said you'd know about margins, run rates."

She nodded, took over the call from me. Started asking questions about failure modes, what kind of boards, what kind of parts. Was the substrate often damaged? We had no resurfacing station, parts were as far as we could go. That wasn't a showstopper, she continued on about discounts and turnaround. Had her charts in front of her, going through the numbers, trying to find a solution that worked for all of us.

I went in, left that deal in the best hands it could be in. Karl was nervous, not every day your boss goes hurtling out of the room in an emergency.

"All good! A client on the phone, maybe steady work! Something about supply remotes."

Karl knew something about those! Stories his father told, when he was in the settlement between seasons, before his last season, the one he didn't return from. Remotes were unreliable, hated, responsible for a good fraction of the risks the Prospectors had to face.

You'd get back from an exploratory, and your supplies would still be drained, stranded without water or power, the remote stalled out in the sand, sometimes just meters from your contact point. Frustrating, dangerous, dirty work.

"Maybe we can do something to improve on that. Figure out a way to keep the remotes running, even in the presence of some failures."

That would be good; I got the impression, his dad might still be among us but for a remote. That had to hit a nerve, now Karl was in a position to maybe do something, his dad was already gone.

Mars can be a cruel bastard.

"We sustain a thirty-five plus refurb success rate, we can make a go of it. We built in a reset point; we'll renegotiate once we collect good statistics. It will mean several things."

"We need more space."

"Noooo. Yes, of course, more space would be great. It'll mean I'm booked on electronics, almost all the time. So we'll need..."

"Another tech."

She nodded. That seemed a cert, we'd gone from maybe-doing-electronic-refurb to booked-through-forever, so we had to adjust our expectations.

The credits looked good! Heck, even just the neurobyte business meant we should have more depth in our shop staff. Take some of the work from me, so I could be more involved in the business side.

She saw the way my face fell, how I felt about that. I wasn't going to tell her, but I was in this business because I liked working with tools. And that prospect was getting dimmer by the cycle.

"Bran!" She was smiling. "It's not as bad as all that! I know you need to get your hands dirty, that's where your heart is.

"If you aren't elbow-deep inside some yucky greasy mech well then you're not happy. And if you're not happy, none of us will be happy."

I hugged her; she meant well but I could see the future, and it was bleak.

"I made a chart." Of course she did. "You spend four cycles out of ten, heads down, in the shop on the hard stuff. Doing what you do best! The reason the shop has the reputation it has! We don't want to mess with that!

"The other cycles, well you go over comm recordings, review the schedule with me, adjust the rates and workload. Make customer contacts, your touch is what some of them need, what they require to keep on as our customers. Confirm the contracts, monitor the accounts, do employee reviews. Not all bad! You do most of that already!"

She had her hands on my shoulders, looking at me closely with those grey eyes. Looking right into my soul it seemed to me, just then.

"Ok. For you. Because you matter too, and I want this to work, I'll do it all."

A hug, then "One more thing."

There's more? Wasn't that what she'd said, not that many cycles ago?

"I want to be paid."

An electric charge lit up my brain. Pay a slave! Unheard of! How could she even think of it? What would people think?

And, why had we waited so long?

Why couldn't she be property, and also have value of her own? Accounts of her own? Own something, like she was owner to her little mechs! She was certainly competent at managing credits. Better than me.

"Ok."

That one little word affected her like that backhand from the bully had. Her face went red, she was shaken, her arms were trembling. She'd been prepared to make her case, maybe been rehearsing in her head for some time. Sudden capitulation put her off balance, left her with nothing to push against, no resistance at all to overcome. She was mentally regaining her balance.

I waited it out, let her recover. Didn't hug her or kiss her or treat her like anything but a partner and a peer. Somebody I was dealing with like any other adult. A real person, deserving of ordinary consideration.

"We'll have to come up with some way to key an account to you. You know the system doesn't permit a slave to have an embed."

She waved that away. "Credit chit. They go both ways. Keyed to my collar, to you, we can add value as well as take it away."

Oh, that was obvious now that she'd said it. Meant her credits would be on her person, not the net so some limitations. But we could come up with an escrow account or something. She could, anyway.

"What will we pay you?"

"Twenty percent of what you pay Karl. Which you still have to set up, by the way."

"Why not as-much-as?" It seemed wrong.

"Because slaves are supposed to be paid twenty percent of a freeborn in the same position, by Settlement Charter! Nobody does, but that's the law."

Shit. The slaves had a rawer deal than they were ever expected to. What a shit, shit system.

I thought hard; she was getting nervous, what objection was I going to come out with?

"You're not a tech; you're a Partner! Twenty percent of a Partner is more than what Karl earns. Let's say, one-and-a-half times."

She was taken aback once more. Looked at me in a way I really like, like she wanted to tell me she loved me but knew she couldn't.

Shook hands again, as this was business and not personal.

Then we both stood for a bit, looking at each other, having said all we needed to right now but still not done communicating.

I was caught up; Karl and Veena were swamped. It was up to me, to find this next tech, they were working early and late and barely keeping up.

Neither one minded, neither said anything. They were getting paid for this, and that was such a new thing for both of them, they were in the first flush of that excitement. It wouldn't last forever, or even very long, they'd burn out soon if I didn't do something.

The first time I sat Karl down, keyed his embed to mine and made his pay transaction he got all serious. A grown man, now, even at fifteen he was considered adult, no choice out here in the settlements. Soon as you started consuming full resources, well, you had to work for it or out the airlock!

Veena ran him briefly through his obligations - O2 bond, she set that up for him. Our food bill, a small contribution to a budget account for that. Rent? Not yet, he lived in an empty room on a pad, not gonna charge anything until we worked out a better situation.

He'd asked how to send money 'home' to Mother Camelia. Good man! Made me think, this kid does a thing like that with his meagre income, what am I doing? So we fixed it; everything he contributed, Veena and I matched. At first just on a chit, he'd set up a scheduled transfer, then go to her, get it keyed to her collar, leave it with her. Credits in her hand every tencycle, sure as death and taxes. Later, maybe, an ad on the comms so folks could know she was there doing her good work, make donations, get more visibility!

Then we did Veena's. Same deal really, just a credit chit keyed to the shop account, her collar. A scheduled transfer, and that was that. But the way she looked at that chit, held it in her two hands and just stared, I know it meant more to her.

Independence? Self-reliance? I don't know, I didn't pry, it was her money and she'd use it for whatever she wanted. Not that she wanted for anything, food, shelter, clothes, it was all paid by the shop anyway.

And the shop was making bank! So all good.

Now my team worked; I had nothing. No word from the bugs; that sandstorm just didn't want to move on, got stalled where it made everybody frustrated.

My builder arrived, a small crew but only a little to do really. I helped with tear out, taking our stored crates and stacking them in the parts room, only for a cycle or two until the front is rebuilt. They did that through the storage unit door, handy to have it for now, kept their ruckus off of my shop floor.

Power and lights went in first, I supervised which meant I dithered over exactly where the drops would go, how many light panels, how bright. What kind of floor reinforcement would be needed: not much, since the heavy stuff went to the current shop, the new one was for electronics which didn't weigh for shit.

Then the new quarters! Irregular but bigger, room for the vid, the couch, a bigger bunk, the wall storage. Plus, light controls where I wanted, better air circulation. A door cut through to our shop room, had to move the tape unit to the other side, closer to the foodprep anyway, everybody liked that.

My crane gantry, we reconsidered, had it installed in the existing shop! Where the heavy work would happen. Tried not to get in the way of my team but hey they needed a little break anyway.

The furnishings for the front arrived, we put the shelves together, a counter, had the comms guy in to run a second unit to that. Final act: tear down the wall between, make it a real opening, load up the shelves with what was in the parts room. Lettered a notice on the old store-room door, Entrance to the Left! and an arrow.

And the builders were done, and we had our new space! Had a little party, I made some snacks and got some hard drinks from the market, we made a deal of re-coding the door panels so Karl would be in the back, Veena and I in the new space, our new expanded quarters. Ate and drank and got a little silly, watched a vid about some historical drama, people on weird four-legged animals rushing around and threatening each other. Then to bed.

Karl had no problem, he'd been sleeping rough his whole life, a bunk and a door were the ultimate luxury! In heaven, smiling the biggest smile we'd seen out of him so far.

Veena, she got a little teary. She'd never slept anywhere else in her life, that was her 'childhood home' we were giving up. We sat up a while, just getting used to the new space, how far away the wall was, how big the new bunk was. How small the couch looked now.

In the end Veena snuggled up to me on that big bunk, didn't really need more room, we took up the same space with her plastered to me, that was ok, that was the same so in the end she got to sleep.

We moved their electronics stations to that side, along with the other four we'd got for free off that loading dock. They knew what to do with them, I left all that to be their domain.

Which mean, now I'm working in my shop alone again. Not really, I just take four steps, I can see them in there, even hear them. But not the same as being in the same room, lending a hand, the back-and-forth of a day in close quarters. I miss that.

Anyway, I have to do this other thing, find another tech. Not a slave, we'd come up dry there. Not another orphan, the current crop were not tech material.

So, who?

I tried the guildhall again, dropped by, talked to a few folks but it was clear none of them were skilled enough or willing to tape.

Maybe find somebody in the market? Somebody in a shop, wanted to move up in the world? I hated to poach off my suppliers, but it had come to that.

There were three or four industrial shops in there, lubricants and actuators, that sort of thing, what you'd need all the time and maybe not want to wait for an order. I made the rounds, asked around, chatted up the shopkeepers. They weren't evasive, they understand it's just business but again, either they had slaves stocking, or their crew was not ambitious enough to want more than a simple labor job.

Walking back to the hub, to the transport station and there's a ruckus in a food stall. A kid, almost an adult, arm being gripped by another one of those security bullies. Clutching some fruit? I guess? Something orange and blue, never saw it before.

Something familiar about the kid. Not tall like Karl, didn't resemble anybody I knew, she had a narrow dirty face and a plain work shirt and pants. And a hungry look.

The shirt! It was the same shirt Karl wore. One of Mother Camelia's 'graduates'!

"Hey! Sorry, mister? That's my gal there, I hope she's not been a bother?"

The security guy looked my way, not sure what I was going on about.

"Move along sir, this is a routine arrest. Shoplifting, we get them all the time." He twisted her arm, made her grimace, face red.

"There's been some mistake? I should not have left her alone in here. Just popped down the corridor to check on a delivery! Told her to start the shopping without me!"

He looked from me to his charge, back to me. "Kid? Do you know this guy?"

She looked at me, noticing me for the first time. I raised my eyebrows, mouthed 'Bran'.

"Sure! That's Bran. My, um, guardian." She didn't trust me, clearly, but I was better than this thug.

"So, if you could release her into my care? I can settle up for the goods. We'll just finish our shopping, get out of your way."

He let go, and she stood, sizing me up, ready to bolt.

"After this, we'll get something to eat?" That hit home, I could actually hear her stomach agreeing with that notion.

The security guy gave me a sour look but went on his way.

"You know my name, but I don't know yours?" I put out a hand, palm up, open. She didn't take it, still sure I wasn't safe, this was another scam.

"You really gonna feed me? What's the deal? What I gotta do?"

I took my hand back, considered. "You have to listen to my proposal? Then you decide, go back to the tubes and the transport stations, sleep where you can. Or accept my offer.

"But enough of that! We have to pay for that, what is it?" She still held the fruit-thing.

"PSimon." Not gonna give me much more, I would have to be patient.

I left her with it, found the shopkeeper, pointed at her with her fruit, how much? Cheap, we shook and our embeds did the deed.

And she was still there when I returned. Which was a surprise, I thought she'd just disappear. Wanted that promised lunch.

"Soup? There's a stand down that way. Or something more substantial?"

Soup was fine; a good idea, she'd not eaten recently, maybe not in a while. Soup would go down easy and not come back up.

We stood, she ordered soup and tatoes and extra dumplings. A sweet drink. Didn't look at me, just hoping I'd be ok with all that.

I ordered just some tatoes, what I didn't eat I'm sure she would.

We waited, silently, she wouldn't look me in the eye, just scanning the crowd, alert, attending to everything. The look of the hunted.

"You been living rough for long?"

She didn't answer; she didn't owe me an answer. Well, get to the point then.

"I've got a repair shop, there's three of us working there. Business is picking up! We need another person to help out."

That got the first direct eye contact so far. Her head swiveled, her eyes snapped to my face, studied me a heartbeat before looking away again. Not wanting to believe me; wanting this to be real, afraid it was just a scam.

"Why me." A very good question. She was an untrained vagabond, exactly the sort a predator would target. Not a responsible businessman.

"Because I'm looking for somebody who is ambitious, hard-working and honest. I think that's you."

That got a snort, dismissive. "You don't know me."

True. "I know Mother Camelia. I know you come from the Warren. That's enough for me, right now."

The recognition was heartbreaking. She knew the name, but the memory was clearly painful. The person who'd raised her, then abandoned her. That had to leave, at least a bad taste.

"Yeah, well." Progress! A response. Actual words, even agreement. Fortunately, the food came just then, saved her from producing an actual sentence.

She ate like a starving street kid, stuffing the tatoes into her face in twos and threes, sucking down that drink. Saved the soup for last, slurped it up until just the dumplings remained, then slowed down, used a utensil, fished them out one at a time, chewing now.

It was heartbreaking, seeing the state she was in. Still, not enough to make me hire her, if she wasn't going to work out.

"Ok for now?" She looked better, some of the desperation gone. Maybe ready to deal with me.

"You can go now; I won't follow, and you don't owe me anything. But if you want to stay, hear me out, you might get a job out of this."

That look again, that I knew only because it had been missing, like Karl had had: hope. She would listen.

I described our circumstance, the electronics business, me and Veena and our partnership, she swallowed that without any trouble. She knew another slave in a position of responsibility after all. I left Karl out for now.

I mentioned taping; she didn't blink. "Never been taped. Machine was broken, almost all the time." So, she'd been 'graduated' without even the barest taped skills.

"All the taping you want, or none, just what the job needs, and you want to stop, you stop. We have a library, you want to learn something every day, up to you! The more you learn, the better employee you'll be. Veena tapes most every day, she's become quite a mechanic. Become a lot of things."

That was the bait, she wanted that; now to close the deal.

"Come by and look us up? I don't want you feeling like it's a trap, like I'm gonna drag you off to a sweatshop. Memorize my address, take a transport, today or tomorrow or when you're ready. Come see how we work, how we get along. Decide for yourself, I can't decide for you, it's all on you."

I gave the shop address, paid the tab with my embed. Pushed my full plate over to her, go ahead! And turned to leave.

I got barely ten steps, and "Bran!" and she was beside me, stuffing my tatoes into a pocket, hurrying to catch up.

We didn't speak again until the station. "You have an advantage over me. You know my name; I don't know yours."

Silence, the transport slowed, we hopped aboard. I keyed two seats, we sat.

"Lindy."

So, she had a name. That was a good beginning.

We show at the shop, they're eating lunch, some doughy sweet rings with comical decorations. And Karl looks up and he'd gob smacked.

"Lindy!"

Of course, they're nearly the same age, she had to have left not that long ago. They'd know each other, had grown up together probably.

She ran, hit him in a hug, and I saw they were both crying. Sat, waited that out, it took as long as it took. Veena, she was doing something useful, printing more food, two more for lunch!

Quietly, to me, "From the Warren?" her eyes on Lindy, giving her a careful going-over. Liking what she saw?

"On the street. Graduated recently, with nothing. Hungry and scared. Seems smart, not resistant to taping. I think she really wants it, wants to learn."

A nod, then she looked at me and smiled, gave me a hug.

"I knew you would figure something out! So now our little crew is four.

"Lindy! So glad to meet you! I'm Veena, of course. And you know Karl, so that helps, he can show you around? Tell you how things work here? And if you're interested, he'll get you settled in. Get started working right away!"