mean?” Alex asked. It was an upper receiver for a 10mm cannon.
Illegal in most territories.
Wendy said nothing.
“ I will take care of
it personally . Harv doesn’t need to
know.”
“ Thanks,” Wendy said, as
the clicking sound of the first container settling into the clamps
on the trailer made them look.
Harv’s container tug had
the entire top cut away. The pilot seat jutted from the rear of the
tug so he could watch the container as he clamped on. It had no
roll cage, no AI control, and no seatbelts.
It was a death trap. A fun, fun death
trap.
In short order, the second container was also loaded. From the tug, Harv could hear the clamps grab it.
Harv set the tug down in
the parking lot and jumped out quickly as Wendy was inspecting the
clamps. She watched him jog up. This worried her. He never ran
anywhere.
“ Wendy, there is a truck
coming. The drones spotted it way out.” Harv looked serious, and
rested a hand on her shoulder, “It looks like a military
transport.”
Wendy gave him a quick hug, and a kiss
on the cheek.
“ Thanks, Harv, ” Wendy said with a hand still touching his face. “I owe you
one.” She ran for her rig and was moving in a matter of seconds.
She drove south, away from the truck that was coming. The winding
path through the salvage yard obscured her departure in no
time.
Harv watched in his HUD
the image of the truck as it slowed and entered the canyon of his
salvage yard, passing the sign: “Twenty Square Kilometers of
Junk. Or Treasure.” The number 20 had been sloppily spray painted to replace a crossed out number 10.
The truck was a modern
T-16 ground transport. No wheels. It had fixed position Grav-foils
for float and steering, with an open three- meter -long flatbed
with crates tied down in the back covered with a camo tarp. It was
the same desert-tan with camo as most military transports these
days. The cab could hold four, but there was only one inside.
His security system, with Hunters help, informed him it was registered as a civilian transport registered to a David
Keener.
Harv went back inside. Though it was
still sunny, the temp was dropping.
***
Noiselessly, the driver of
the truck parked in front of the shop. Even though it had Grav-plates and no wheels, it kicked up a giant cloud of dust as it powered down and
settled to the ground.
Alex watched casually from
behind the diner’s dusty windows, knowing that the man behind the
wheel could not see her through the tinted, mirrored glass. He
hopped out and walked around the truck, checking the tie-downs on
the load. He was lean, fit and on the tall side. He wore jeans,
cowboy boots, an untucked flannel shirt and a straw cowboy hat that
had seen better days. The truck had a Texas ident code. But the man
didn’t need one. Unlike most of the people that came in here, none
of his mannerisms were an affectation.
He took off the hat and tossed it into
the cab of the truck. He ran both of his hands through his hair in
a futile attempt to eliminate the hat’s impression. Alex thought he
needed a haircut.
As he approached
the door, Alex suddenly felt like she needed a haircut as
well.
The bell rang as the door
opened.
“ Morning,” Alex said as
the door closed behind him and the bell rang again.
“ Good morning, ma’am. May
I use your bathroom straight up? Otherwise, I’ll be dancin the whole time we talk.” He made a polite bow with his
greeting.
Alex smiled at him. “Only if you never
call me ‘ma’am’ again. It’s Alex.” Pointing down the hall, she
said, “All the way down there to the left.”
“ Thank you, m…
Alex.”
While he was in there, she looked out the window and studied his truck. The T-16s
were old by
now, but this one was in perfect
condition. She had always wanted one but had never had the spare
cash. And where would you find one these days? When parked, the bed
of the truck was only ten centimeters off the ground. Perfect for
use around here. And they had AI remote control
Illegal in most territories.
Wendy said nothing.
“ I will take care of
it personally . Harv doesn’t need to
know.”
“ Thanks,” Wendy said, as
the clicking sound of the first container settling into the clamps
on the trailer made them look.
Harv’s container tug had
the entire top cut away. The pilot seat jutted from the rear of the
tug so he could watch the container as he clamped on. It had no
roll cage, no AI control, and no seatbelts.
It was a death trap. A fun, fun death
trap.
In short order, the second container was also loaded. From the tug, Harv could hear the clamps grab it.
Harv set the tug down in
the parking lot and jumped out quickly as Wendy was inspecting the
clamps. She watched him jog up. This worried her. He never ran
anywhere.
“ Wendy, there is a truck
coming. The drones spotted it way out.” Harv looked serious, and
rested a hand on her shoulder, “It looks like a military
transport.”
Wendy gave him a quick hug, and a kiss
on the cheek.
“ Thanks, Harv, ” Wendy said with a hand still touching his face. “I owe you
one.” She ran for her rig and was moving in a matter of seconds.
She drove south, away from the truck that was coming. The winding
path through the salvage yard obscured her departure in no
time.
Harv watched in his HUD
the image of the truck as it slowed and entered the canyon of his
salvage yard, passing the sign: “Twenty Square Kilometers of
Junk. Or Treasure.” The number 20 had been sloppily spray painted to replace a crossed out number 10.
The truck was a modern
T-16 ground transport. No wheels. It had fixed position Grav-foils
for float and steering, with an open three- meter -long flatbed
with crates tied down in the back covered with a camo tarp. It was
the same desert-tan with camo as most military transports these
days. The cab could hold four, but there was only one inside.
His security system, with Hunters help, informed him it was registered as a civilian transport registered to a David
Keener.
Harv went back inside. Though it was
still sunny, the temp was dropping.
***
Noiselessly, the driver of
the truck parked in front of the shop. Even though it had Grav-plates and no wheels, it kicked up a giant cloud of dust as it powered down and
settled to the ground.
Alex watched casually from
behind the diner’s dusty windows, knowing that the man behind the
wheel could not see her through the tinted, mirrored glass. He
hopped out and walked around the truck, checking the tie-downs on
the load. He was lean, fit and on the tall side. He wore jeans,
cowboy boots, an untucked flannel shirt and a straw cowboy hat that
had seen better days. The truck had a Texas ident code. But the man
didn’t need one. Unlike most of the people that came in here, none
of his mannerisms were an affectation.
He took off the hat and tossed it into
the cab of the truck. He ran both of his hands through his hair in
a futile attempt to eliminate the hat’s impression. Alex thought he
needed a haircut.
As he approached
the door, Alex suddenly felt like she needed a haircut as
well.
The bell rang as the door
opened.
“ Morning,” Alex said as
the door closed behind him and the bell rang again.
“ Good morning, ma’am. May
I use your bathroom straight up? Otherwise, I’ll be dancin the whole time we talk.” He made a polite bow with his
greeting.
Alex smiled at him. “Only if you never
call me ‘ma’am’ again. It’s Alex.” Pointing down the hall, she
said, “All the way down there to the left.”
“ Thank you, m…
Alex.”
While he was in there, she looked out the window and studied his truck. The T-16s
were old by
now, but this one was in perfect
condition. She had always wanted one but had never had the spare
cash. And where would you find one these days? When parked, the bed
of the truck was only ten centimeters off the ground. Perfect for
use around here. And they had AI remote control
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