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“Of course,” I said. “And I led them straight to you. Turns out I’m not very bright.”
“Smartass.”
“Dumbass.”
“Come in.” He gestured me forward.
I slipped in and he immediately closed the door. I didn’t know if he thought this was stealthy or what. But hey, he was paying me a million slugs. We could play 007 if he wanted.
The workshop was effectively a garage. A huge garage. Seriously, I’d kill to have that space. I’d make a little house in one corner and then, I don’t know, install fake grass in the rest of it? Four identical harvesters, each in its own bay, filled the room.
I walked over to the nearest harvester and looked up at it. “Wow.”
“Yeah,” Trond said. “You don’t realize how big they are until you see one up close.”
“How did you get them into town without anyone knowing?”
“It wasn’t easy,” Trond said. “I had them shipped here in pieces. Only my most trusted people even know about it. I pieced together a staff of seven mechanics who know how to keep their mouths shut.”
I scanned the cavernous workshop. “Anyone else here?”
“Of course not. I don’t want anyone knowing I hired you.”
“I’m hurt.”
The harvester stood four meters tall, five meters wide, and ten meters long. Reflective material coated the hull to minimize solar heating. Each of the beast’s six wheels was a meter and a half across. The bulk of the machine was a huge, empty basin. Powerful hydraulics on the front and a hinge on the rear provided the basin’s dumping mechanism.
The front of the harvester had a scoop with associated articulation. There was no passenger compartment, of course. Harvesters were automated—though they could be remote-controlled when necessary. A sealed metal box rested where you might expect a cockpit. It bore the Toyota logo, along with the word “Tsukuruma” in a stylish font.
Roll-around toolboxes and maintenance equipment surrounded the harvester wherever the workers had left off at the end of their shift.
“Okay,” I said, taking in the scene. “This is going to be a challenge.”
“What’s the problem?” Trond walked over to one of the wheels and leaned against it. “It’s just a robot—it doesn’t have any defenses. Its only AI is for pathing. I’m sure you and a big tank of acetylene could figure something out.”
“This thing is a tank, Trond. It’s not going to be easy to kill.” I walked partially around the harvester and got a closer look at the undercarriage. “And it’s got cameras everywhere.”
“Of course it does,” said Trond. “It needs them to navigate.”
“It sends video back to its controllers,” I said. “Once it goes offline, the controllers will roll back to footage to see what happened. They’ll see me.”
“So cover up any identifying marks on your EVA suit,” Trond said. “No problem.”
“Oh there’s a problem. They’ll call the EVA masters to ask what the hell’s going on, and then the EVA masters will come out to get me. They won’t know who I am, but they can drag my ass back inside and have a Scooby-Doo moment when they pull my helmet off.”
He walked around to my side of the harvester. “I see your point.”
I ran my hands through my hair. I hadn’t showered that morning. I felt like I was a wad of grease that had been dipped in a vat of dirtier grease. “I need to come up with something that has a delayed effect. So it’ll happen after I get back inside.”
“And don’t forget, you’ve got to total the things. If there’s anything left to fix, Sanchez’s repair crews will have them up and running in days.”
“Yeah, I know.” I pinched my chin. “Where’s the battery?”
“In the forward compartment. The box with the Toyota logo on it.”
I found a primary breaker box near the forward compartment. Inside were the main breakers to protect the electronics from power surges or shorts. Worth noting.
I leaned up against a nearby tool cabinet. “When they’re full, they take their stuff to the smelter?”
