[center][h2]”The Institutions of Men"[/h2][/center]

[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/g0TnXhh.jpg[/img]
[/center]

[b]Cal Strand[/b] appears courtesy of [@wanderingwolf]  


Some things about refugees never change.

They always wear their finest clothes, a sign that they’d been uprooted, forced on the dodge with just a few ticks to think about what possessions they ought to stuff into pockets.  These Anabaptists all had their Sunday best on, the church clothes now worn and dirty from rough livin’.  It occurred to Cal that they’d been at it for awhile, since those same duds hung loose on frames going all gaunt.

But none of that seemed to matter in their eyes.  They greeted Hook with open hands and welcome smiles, while Yuri passed an envelope to the captain of the border guards.  Those folk clapped onto the wheelbarrows like they’d just been given a great gift.  For whatever sufferin’ led them to be in this place, the Anabaptists still took to their new labor with a kinda joyful purpose.  From his place on the mule, the captain pondered their nature.  He might not buy the stories what shaped their view, but that didn’t stop him admiring their method.

He could see ‘em all, stopped just inside the checkpoint as Sister Lyen called ‘em together.  Cal watched as she turned their focus to Hook.  He couldn’t hear what the cook was sayin’ to ‘em, but when Joe Hooker started handin’ out chisels it was pretty obvious they’d been given the 4-1-1 on the day’s work.  After a little back an’ forth, Lyen gestured ‘follow me,’ and led the whole lot deeper into the blackout zone.

Yuri stepped up, all dapper in his fine suit of clothes.  “Gotta say,” Cal offered as the cigarette case flipped open, “you clean up real nice.”

“We could have a problem.”  The first mate’s eyes told his level of concern.

The captain cupped his hands over the flaring match as the first blessed smoke passed his lips.  “We usually do,” he replied.  “What’s it this time?”

“The chips,” Yuri’s voice dropped low.  “Doc’s not sure she can remove ‘em without destroyin’ one or two along the way.”

Cal met that with a thoughtful nod.  “Sounds reasonable,” he pocketed the case as the cigarette propped between his lips.  “Didn’t plan for that, did we?”

“No, sir.”

“So what are you thinkin’ now?”  Cal’s eyes were leveled upon the checkpoint, with its’ many comings and goings.  Thing about border guards, he observed as Yuri struggled with a response, was that they never, ever changed.  Women got groped.  Men got pushed about.  Anything of value got took.  Them as was in charge treated their unders like [i]la shi[/i], a practice ain’t changed ever since one man conjured he could boss another…

“I need backup chips,” Yuri said, “and a way to read and reprogram them.”

The captain exhaled, releasing the smoke through a corner of his mouth.  “That you do,” he agreed.  “You said it’s all RFID, right?”

“I think so,” Yuri near stammered.  “Yes, sir.”

“So what’s the problem?”

Yuri glanced over his shoulder.  “It’s government…Alliance,” he whispered.  “I can’t just buy their tech on the street.”

After another pull from his cigarette, Cal took it from his mouth.  It hung between two fingers of the hand he draped over the mule’s handlebars, a lazy curl of smoke rising to be dashed on the breeze from the street.  “Couple things, One-Arm,” he replied.  “You know who builds Alliance stuff?”

“Who?”

“The lowest bidder.”  the captain inclined his head toward the checkpoint.  “Don’t take more’n one look at all those scarecrows inside the BZ to conjure the Alliance is stackin’ folk on the cheap…”

“Like animals,” Yuri repeated his thought of the night before.

“Like animals,” Cal agreed.  “Makes a body think that for the kind of trackin’ they need, mayhaps they signed off on somethin’ just sittin’ on the shelf?”

“Yeah…” the younger man followed his lead.  “Yeah!  Makes sense!”

“Leastways,” Strand concluded, “won’t set you back much to find out.  Now Alana’s got a powerful light touch, but she’s a careful woman.  I’d wager she won’t harm a single chip pullin’ ‘em outta arms, but she’s smart to get you thinkin’ on backups.”

Yuri nodded again.  “Yeah,” he agreed.  “I need to find a veterinary supply company.”

The cigarette butt was ground beneath Cal’s bootheel.  “Copy that,” China Doll’s captain gave a nod as he kick started the engine.  “Hop on.”

“I’ve got a ride,” Yuri said as he gestured toward a pretty deluxe looking personal shuttle which idled in the distance.

Cal raised an eyebrow.  “Well ain’t you all fancy?”

“Playing the part, sir,” Antonov grinned.  “I can’t be seen riding with ‘the help.”