FFJ - 12 - Hopper 0

The crawler bled from an unseen wound, somewhere deep within its maze of tubes, wires and valves. Hydraulic fluid pitter pattered down to the concrete shop floor. The constant gust of a wide metal fan did little to keep sweat out of Hopper’s eyes as he chased down the rogue line. He had to remove the hefty skid plates and forward treads just to get the slimmest of openings to work with. Built with the complexity of a fine watch and the repairability of a proprietary system, it was a nightmare to do even the most routine repairs on the hulking vehicles. Given that these were subject to extreme environments on a regular basis, the majority of repairs were far from routine.

Some piece of debris had likely wormed its way past the skid plate and protective mesh. Fixing it was the easy bit. Getting to it was tantamount to torture. He cursed the engineers who made the damn things, not for the first time today. And, at this rate, he was certain it wouldn’t be the last. After hours fishing around in the belly of the beast while referencing a schematic that only had a vague indication of the hydraulic lines, he was starting to worry that he’d have to go in from the top. That would require removing the solar arrays and disconnecting everything in the dash. He cast aside his ratchet, letting it clatter.

There was nobody else here this late. The promotion to journeyman had granted him freedom from a supervisor breathing down his neck, but it had come at the caveat of nebulous hours and deadlines that rested squarely on his shoulders. This one was due back in working order in a couple of days, which simply wasn’t going to happen. He was dreading the conversation.

At least this assignment was a decent slice above base pay, and he was grateful for the chits. He and his sister, Rays, had finally been able to upgrade from the claustrophobic shared studio to a two-bedroom block in a much nicer district of Rise. Hopper tried to remind himself of that, but it was easy to spiral. Even easier to submit for a change of assignment.

He’d had his heart set on driving these things instead of fixing them for years, and he’d cozied up with a diver who kept dangling the job in front of him. He’d have to submit an application and get it approved, but his chances were good if he had a referral from the inside. But he couldn’t get a good read on the man, Barranca. If he really meant it. Enough opportunities had fallen outside his reach before, and it wasn’t uncommon for affable people like him to just say what he thought Hopper wanted to hear.

There had to be something to it. A dive team could benefit from someone who knew the crawlers inside and out, for better or worse. And it would be doing something. It’d been drilled into his head that every assignment made a difference in Ledicia, but there was no denying that divers had a more direct impact. It didn’t hurt that the chits were a hefty cut above base. Next time he saw Barranca, he’d bring it up on a serious note. The worst case was that he said no, anyway.