Chapter 18
Date: September 16, 3027
"What are you doing?" Billy asked me as I tightened down another string of myomers.
"I was curious," I replied, pulling up my safety gear and turning to look at the manager, and it's luncthime, so I figured the space would be free."
"I thought they were all out of spec," the Manager realized I'd put a quarter of the the test parts together.
"So did I," I shrugged. "It's looking like they were all out of spec within the same bounds. Because they're fitting together perfectly."
"How perfectly?" Billy grabbed some PPE and some tools to measure.
"I was going to wait until I was done to find out," I slid the mask back down and followed Billy around as he began to measure.
"Well, you'll be glad I checked," Billy pointed at a nearby clipboard and I handed it to him. The older man went around and checked everything. From the weapon hardpoints to the smallest bolt. "Because if I'm right, we won't be able to use this as the testbed we originally had planned."
"What do you mean?" I asked, trying to figure it out before he told me. Despite the fact that I was able to cheat with the superpowers I had. (I still didn't have a better name for it). I was only a beginner when it came to industry. Software, programming, coding, I could do all of those things; and had done them for decades. I could sit down at a computer and figureout an operating system if I had to. It wouldn't be easy, it would take time, but I could do it.
This industrial stuff was still new in a lot of ways. I had the basics down, but I was absolutely reliant on BIlly and Eddy for their expertise.
"Well, as you know," Billy began, writing something down in his clipboard. "Specifications for parts have a range and a tolerance. For example, I'll use the medium lasers we manufacture. We need parts that fall between a four and an seven on a scale of one to ten. That's the allowed 'range' of variance in our parts that we allow and that will work together. For some reason, our first run, produced a bunch of eights when we were looking for the range we needed. Every test after that was within the tolerance range we have. A four, five, six, and seven are all able to work together more or less," Billy tapped his pencil against the clipboard before chewing the end of it in thought. "Quikscell didn't care as long as it wasn't a one or a ten. They accepted pretty much everything and if it didn't work they didn't care. At least for the most part," the factory manager rounded one of the massive Chassis legs. "All of these parts are an eight. They'll fit perfectly together, they'll even run extremely well, probably better than the final production models. The problem is, they're out of spec with all the other parts we produce. Anyone we sell this to is going to have one hell of a time making this thing stay in working conditions on the battlefield without accepting some issues."
"Well, we were looking for a showpiece, to keep in the lobby," I pointed out. "Might as well have it fully functional before we turn it into a display model. Not like we can use the rest of the pieces for something else if they'll only work together."
"That's a five and a half million C-Bill display model," Billy joked. "Should we see about replacing all of the armor with cockpit grade glass so that people can see the inner workings when they visit the factory?"
"That's actually not a bad idea from the tourism angle," I replied, actually considering the idea. "It'd certainly be an interesting first sight when people first step in."
"It'd be more expensive to do it that way," the manager shrugged. "I can definitely see the appeal. Could even be helpful from a security perspective."
"We're not mercenaries," I shook my head. "We don't need to worry about things like that when the critical components are buried underground."
"We'll see," Billy looked like he knew something I didn't, but I let it slide. I was sure I'd figure it out sooner or later.
"So, should we get some poeple to help us finish this? Or do you think we can get this done before lunch is over?"
"We should take it apart," Billy replied. "Make them put it together so they know how this part of things works. Make sure they know the proper tests and everything. If nothing else, it'll at least be good for training on our quality control."
"Good QC and a great warranty makes a company stand out," I replied. "We're going to have both."
"Then looks like you get to take apart everything you put together," Billy chuckled as he looked at his watch. "Because it's time for me to take my lunch now."
With a jaunty wave, the man tossed the clipboard to me and left me to my mess and work.
"Well," I sighed. "Might as well get started. It's not like you'll disassemble yourself," I glanced up at the Mackie. One of the reasons I had done this is I was slowly figuring out how to shut down the information that got dumped into my brain. If I could figure out how to turn it off and then back on, I could avoid more migraines. Which was a good thing. Because nosebleeds and migraines sucked. Also, if I could turn it off, then I could do something that might be really important later if we ever managed to expand past Mackiesand repairs for the militia.
But to be honest, I didn't really care about leaving the planet for negotiating. I had a dream that everyone had had in the time I'd come from.
I was going to outer space. So, I'd just have to figure out how to shut down this power. Otherwise every millennial's dream would die with me. That wasn't allowed.
Sylvie really enjoyed the mechanical side of things. She liked working on 'mechs, tanks, anything, really. It was probably why she'd been willing to work with Edmund in the first place. However, she really didn't like the factory. Sure, it was fun at first, but it didn't 'click' the same way repairing a 'mech or a tank did.
It also meant that when a bunch of people shifted to go work at the new factory complex that she'd had to hire some new folks to fill in on the repair side of things. Eye candy and good with tools? Oh, yeah. It was good to be the boss sometimes.
"Hey Sylvie," One of said new hires, Timothy Barnes, caught her attention. "I'm kinda stuck on the autoloader here. Got any tips?"
Except for right now. When it wasn't good to be the boss. Just how many times did she have to point them at the manuals that had been written before they got the picture? She wasn't their mother, they should use their own brains and critical thinking resources instead of her own.
"What did the Manual say?" Sylvie poked her head out of the Scoprionshe'd been working on.
"To hit a certain spot with a mallet and that it'll force the loader back into position," Tim replied. "I just don't want to break anything in my first week."
"It's already broken," Sylvie popped the gum in her mouth. "Otherwise it wouldn't be here. Go hit the damned thing with a mallet. I don't have anything better than the manual to give you for advice."
"Yes, ma'am," the young man slunk off.
"They always like that?" Major Benjamin Irish asked, leaning against the side of the tank. Angela Lawrie had been promoted, and the major had taken her place as the liason to the companies.
"Most of the time they're not too bad," Sylvie shrugged. "Sorry, I didn't catch you coming on the premises, Major."
"I figured I'd stop by and see how you were doing," The major looked like he'd stepped out of a recruitment poster. "What with the factory being a priority now."
"We've split out attention," Sylvie admitted, "But with me taking care of this side of things, and Edmund taking the other side, we've got things well-handled."
"Sounds like it," Major Irish glanced at the men who were now repainting a repaired tank. "Would you care to discuss it over dinner with me?"
"You're asking me out, now?" Sylvie glanced down at her grease-stained coveralls. "I look disgusting."
"I'm sure you clean up nice," the major chuckled. "Besides, I'm a combat vet, I've seen pretty women covered in far worse than grease. I'll be by to pick you up at 6."
Sylvie blushed and stammered, but eventually agreed before the major left her to her work.
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"Well, I've had worse assignments," Major Irish glanced at the biometrically sealed briefcase with the details of his assignment within. Sometimes, pulling double duty for both SAFE and the Federal military was a chore. This time it looked like everything was going to go exactly as planned.
He'd been hoping to pull the Rebecca Wright case, but the CEO of Siler's Salvage and Assembly had seen to that scheme getting pulled. So, they'd settled for the next acceptable target. The easiest way to keep someone from diving into the wrong political factions was to keep them close. Which is exactly what Irish had been ordered to do. At least this time it was with an attractive young woman…