Kaylee’s Lament

Part Eighteen

The stevedores were doing a fast and efficient job of stacking and securing the freight in the cargo hold. There were six of them, plus a foreman, all dressed in gray coveralls with the station logo on their shoulders, and they all worked with the efficiency of insects. They didn’t even talk while they worked. They took their breaks exactly on time, and were back to work exactly on time. They even seemed to sweat in unison.

That was one of the things Mal really didn’t like about the culture Core. All bland efficiency, no soul. On Polycarp he watched a dozen slaves do half the work in twice the time these men were doing. But they sang like birds while they did it, not enjoying the work, but suffering through it. These guys weren’t suffering. But they were handy when there was work to be done.

He stood on the catwalk, overseeing the details of the stowage. He tried to look as scruffy and disreputable as possible to avoid prolonged conversation – and it had worked admirably. No one had said a word to him that hadn’t been about business. They had been going like this for six or seven hours, now, and they had gotten more than half of the job completed in that time. The medical supplies, pharmaceuticals and hard-to-find items like prosthetics and advanced medical equipment, had been loaded first. Crate after crate of expensive Alliance gear was loaded up, tied down, and readied to withstand the trip to the fictional Heracles Station. The larger pieces were going to be last, the huge, heavy masticator (the part of the TR-10 that processed the raw materials, Simon had informed him) would be the last piece on, first piece off, and it would be loaded up in less than eight hours. Then they could depart the station early.

That would be fine by him. The sooner they were clear of this orbiting anthill, the better.

He was a little wary of the coming shift-change. Wendell had warned “Captain Kuan” that a new team would come in at 16:00 local to finish the job. The