Chapter 5
Date: July 25, 3025
One of the things that people often don't realize about any business, big or small. Is that most of the expenses don't come from tools, they don't come from machines, or anything like that. It was payroll, salaries, and insurance. All of those things added up. Especially if you were trying to make sure your employees were well taken care of.
So, our two million eagles dwindled rapidly as we hired ten people away from Quikscell. We had to set aside money for their salaries for the first six months to a year (If we went out of business, I was going to make sure they got paid). I made sure their health insurance was covered, and that we had some form of workers' comp. I'd always treated my people well back in my old life, I wasn't going to treat them badly now.
Which meant we had around five hundred thousand eagles or so to continue the repair process of various things from around the junkyard.
"So, you just want us to haul in whatever we think is the least damaged first?" Billy asked from where he was leaning up against a Merkava we'd pulled out of the yard, an unlit cigarette dangled loosely from his lips. "Or do you want us to focus on the most damaged?"
"Dealer's choice, Billy," I replied with a shrug. "You guys drag them into the shop, I'll figure out what's wrong with 'em and write up some notes on what needs to be fixed. Any finer details can be worked out later."
"Works for me," The old man shrugged. "Any preference on what we drag in first?"
"Well, might want to look and see if there are any industrialmechs in the pile. Any we fix up are something that can be used around the yard or sold to keep us afloat while we look for more customers," I remembered there being at least one or two in the piles from my first nosebleeds.
With that, Billy turned and walked out of the garage, heading for the flatbed truck with the winch on it. He and the other guys I'd hired weren't book smart, but they had common sense and knew what to look for when it came to working with vehicles. I trusted they'd have good judgment, and if they didn't. Well, I was going to have to work on whatever they dragged in at some point. So we might as well get it done.
First, though, was this MerkavaSylvie had pulled out of the yard and dragged into the bay. She'd made some good points about security, and after we fixed this one up, we were going to have it sit just inside our yard with some people manning it in case someone decided we were easy to roll up on.
There was just one problem. The Merkava in front of me didn't match up with the Merkava Mk. VIII that my power said it was. Oh, it had the same tracks, fusion engine, and control systems. But someone had swapped out the ammunition-fed autocannon for one of those PPCs, changed out the lone fifteen missile system for three five packs, and added something called CASE. Whatever that was.
Sighing, I climbed inside the tank and began fiddling with things. I still only halfway knew what I was doing, so I was intensely grateful that the weapons were all working when we'd run that test. The problem was that an individual weapons test hadn't told us that the targeting systems were completely borked.
The screen wasn't cracked, the cables seemed to be plugged in properly. So, what was it exactly that had fried the targeting system?
I moved to the driver seat and pushed a button that caused the fusion engine to gently rumble to life, the initial sound of starting up was often the only sign that a fusion engine had turned on outside of the internal lights flickering.
This time, just like all the other times, the targeting screen came to life immediately. It was crazy how intuitive these systems were. They had to have some sort of limited AI built into their programming because they seemed to highlight potential threats in red or purple, with everything else as a neutral yellow or gray.
A few seconds later, the screen winked off. Leaving me just as confused as I had been the other times. It should be working. My power told me, but it wasn't. Still, I reached for the socket set and began unscrewing the computer panel. I was going to take it off the side and swap it out for a panel I'd pulled off one of the vehicles we weren't going to be able to repair. The Demon's Gauss rifle was just too damaged for fixing.
Thankfully, the internals had been in great shape, and we'd stripped it for what parts might be compatible with others before moving the rest to the actual scrap section of the yard. The recycling center down the road from us was going to get a lotof business over the next few years.
Even though the panel from the Demon was 'newer' my power informed me, it seemed to slot in perfectly, the power connections remaining the same despite a century or two between the different production models.
With a sharp 'click' I seated the cables in and exhaled in relief as the panel immediately came on. There was a proprietary 'Leopard Armor' logo that came on the screen as whatever passed for a BIOS loaded and began going through things.
Then, as it came on, the system began to automatically adjust for the different weapons loadout that the Merkava had instead of the Demon, it was as if it could run its own system scan and revert to older code.
There were a few times when I had to give specific input and override things, but for the most part the panel installed itself. While it did its thing, I began looking over the old panel, trying to identify what might be the problem before a dark patch on one of the capacitors caught my eye.
If it had just been one capacitor that had blown, the panel probably would have kept functioning until the apocalypse. Instead, an entire bank had been overloaded and began arcing through the panel. I could maybe fix this if I could get the right parts for the panel, so I set it aside and began working on the rest of the internals that needed fixing.
"Hey boss!" Billy's voice and the banging on the side of the tank caught my attention and brought me out of the trancelike state I'd been in while fixing the rest of the Merkava. "We've brought in some stuff to the garage."
I looked at my watch and winced as the pain of being in a cramped space and working caught up to my back and arms.
"Go get some lunch," I replied, pulling myself out of the heavy tank. "Bring me back a sub or something. I'll write down what we need to do on everything while you're gone."
Glancing back down at the watch, I noted that it was around twelve-thirty. "And don't come back until after one-thirty. You're off the clock when you're on Lunch. I don't care if you're salaried or not."
"What kind of sub do you want?" James, one of the younger guys asked.
"Just a turkey with whatever comes standard on it is fine," I replied, heading over to my workbench and pulling out a notebook. I didn't want to look at what they'd brought in until I had the notebook in hand. "I'll have the list of jobs for you to do when you get back."
"Whatever you say, boss," Billy shrugged. "Whose car are we takin'?"
The ten of them split into two cars and left, while I turned around and began the headache-inducing process.
They'd stuck with what was familiar to them. Because a pair of Hetzerswas the first two things I saw and began analyzing. The autoloader, internal structure, and axles needed to be fixed on one of them. (That was discounting the armor reskin it required). Then the other one needed a complete overhaul. The engine hadn't been mounted properly, the wheels weren't balanced, the gun had a shell casing still jammed into the breach, a whole host of smaller electrical issues, and there was a hole in the side of the vehicle. It said something that the hole would be the easiest part of it to fix.
The last thing in the bays waiting for me was a Jabberwockyindustrialmech. If it were working, it'd be near-perfect for our operations here. This was one of the original salvagemechs, according to the brief history my ability gave me.
Quickly writing down notes, I began combing over the 'mech, trying to identify specific issues and document them for the repair process. Actuators needed replacing, the gyro was completely seized up, the fuel cell engine was pretty much nonfunctional, and we needed to find replacements for the arms. The hoists still worked, as did the cockpit equipment. There was just a lot of other things we needed to do.
Marking down the Hetzers as priorities, I finished out what I had missed the first time around and wrote out a small schedule before sticking it on the whiteboard in the shop.
Then I popped a couple of aspirin from the cabinet and headed inside the air-conditioned office space, catching Sylvie in the middle of struggling not to drift off.
"Billy and the rest of the guys are gone for lunch," I said, easing myself into one of the office chairs. "I've got what needs to be done to fix what they dragged into the bays written down. If all goes well, we should have two Hetzers intact and for sale in the next couple of weeks. The industrialmech they pulled in should be done around the same time. But I was hoping to keep that for work around the yard."
"Well," Sylvie glanced at the budget sheets she'd been working on. "We might be able to afford that. Might have to sell the Merkava to keep us afloat, though."
"If you have good people, you pay them what they're worth," I retorted. "Otherwise, they're just going to leave the second something better comes along."
"We've already had this argument," the woman sighed. "Look, we need to hire some security around here, too. Get something we can repair or fix to look threatening, and we can sell everything in the bay except for the industrialmech. I'm just worried someone will see us as a threat to their operations and take us out."
"There's no way things are that cutthroat," I replied. "Besides, we've had exactly zero people come by to have us repair their gear or want to buy something from us since Hammer and his people. I don't think anyone sees us as a threat."
"Not yet," Sylvie retorted. "In this business, that can change in an instant. Now, at a minimum, we can sell those Hetzers to the militia to replace ones that don't work from Quikscell. Especially if we offer a warranty with it. Question is, what do we sell them for?"
"Sell the pair for what one is worth," I replied. "They're used, and we need to build up a reputation before we can raise our prices. Our foot in the door is going to have to be good customer service and satisfaction to overcome the reputation that most of us are going to have coming from Quikscell. Now, how we do that is…"