First Day

            Winnet looked around her.  Goblin miners bustled about, moving loads of coal to be shipped to Cygnus and other large cities.  Goblin mechanics repaired machinery while goblin clerks tallied loads.  A group of goblin laborers on break sat in a circle playing with dice.

            “Winnet!” someone yelled behind her.

            She turned and smiled.  “Hi, Dad.”

            Her father, an older goblin with the same tan-spotted white fur as her, laughed and pulled her into a tight embrace.  “Finally back from the big city,” he said after releasing her.  “Had enough of humans?”

            Winnet laughed.  “They aren’t so bad.”  She looked around the mine camp.  Her eyes lingered on the furniture and buildings sized for goblins.  “But they build everything so big.”

            “So you got one of their fancy university degrees.  Will it make you a better mechanic?”

            Winnet grinned.  “Of course it will, Dad.”  She hefted her knapsacks and bedroll.  “First I need to unpack.”

            Her father nodded.  “I thought so.  I hope you don’t mind me starting you in the barracks.  Can’t be showing favoritism, now.”

            “What?  I can’t get my old room back?”

            “You’ll have to earn it.”

            Winnet sighed.  “Alright, Dad.  I’ll earn it.”

            “Chow’s in half an hour at the mess tent.”

            “I’ll be there.”  Winnet wound her way through the mine camp and out to the worker barracks.  She entered the female one and found an unoccupied cot.  She set her bedroll and knapsacks down.  She finished buckling on her tool belt when someone cleared her throat behind her.  Winnet turned and smiled.  “Cass!”

            Cass was a little taller than Winnet with golden brown fur.  “Thought you’d come into camp without saying ‘Hi’ to your old friend, big city girl?”

            Winnet laughed.  “Yes.  I’m a high-falutin’ academic with no time for the rabble.”  The two embraced, and Winnet looked her friend over afterward.  “So what job did you end up getting?”

            “Originally he wanted me mining.  But I’ve been practicing with the warding crews.  He’s so impressed he’s talking about making me his apprentice.”

            “Oh,” Winnet said.  “Great.”

            Cass frowned.  “Are you okay?”

            “I’m fine,” Winnet said.  A steam whistle sounded outside.  “How about we get some grub, huh?”

            The two left the barracks and made their way through the camp to the mess tent, where a line of goblins had already formed.  They received stew and a chunk of bread on tin utensils from the surly cook.  They sat down by a large rock, which they used as a table.  As Winnet ate, Cass gave her the news from the past years.

            “Remember that new coal vein your dad found right before you left?  Turns out it wasn’t much for fuel, but it makes real good coke for steel.”

            “So that’s why this place has gotten so much larger.”  She scanned the faces in the crowd, finding more new ones than familiar.

            Cass nodded.  “He’s just opened a pair of new shafts around the other side of the mountain.  He won’t tell anybody what he’s looking for over there, though.”

            Winnet’s ears twitched.  “Really?  He didn’t mention that to me.”

            Cass frowned.  “Maybe he figured you’d find out eventually?”

            Before Winnet could answer, a crash and a scream filled the air.  Winnet stood up.  “That came from the mine entrance.”

            Cass joined Winnet as a steamgear came barreling across the yard, scattering goblins and damaging equipment in its wake.  It wobbled and shook as it moved, twisting its head from side to side as if looking for something.

            “Where’s the mage pilot?” Winnet said.

            “Probably back at the mine,” Cass said and the cooks and the other goblins eating scattered.  “If he’s still alive.”

            Winnet scanned the ‘gear.  “Looks like it’s having trouble balancing.  If I hit it hard enough in the right spot, it should fall over.”

            “You studied ‘gears at that school?”

            Winnet ran towards a fallen tool shed.  “Studied?”  She rummaged through the pile until she found a meter-long adjustable clamp spanner.  “Didn’t you read my letters?”  She hefted the wrench and grinned.  “They were my specialty.”  She passed a long length of metal piping to Cass.  “Can you distract it?”

            Cass took the pipe and glanced over at the ‘gear.  It had made its way to the large stew pot and tipped it over.  The stew spilled out and soaked into the dirt.  “It’s two and half times our size!”

            Winnet brandished the wrench and swung it in a broad arc.  “You’re supposed to be good at magic.  Try a fire and earth channel to disrupt its magnetics.”

            “I thought that was fire and air.”

            “Electricity, yes.  But magnetism is fire and earth.  Human arcanists don’t get it either.”

            Cass shrugged, and spoke a series of complicated invocations.  As she did, the pipe began to hum.  She leveled it as if it were a spear, and continued casting.

            Winnet watched the ‘gear.  It had been digging a hole in the stew-soaked ground with its shovel-sized hands.  It huddled down into it as if trying to wallow in the dust.  It looked up from its task, and its red eyes focused on Winnet and Cass.  It straightened up and faced them.

            “Might want to finish that spell, Cass,” Winnet said.

            The ‘gear lumbered towards them.  As it loomed over them, Cass finished the spell and struck the ‘gear’s chest with the pipe.  Vibrations filled the air, making Winnet feel numb all over.

            “I think I disrupted its cortex links for a few seconds,” Cass said.

            The ‘gear stood motionless for a few seconds then raised a fist aimed at Cass.

            “Dammit.”  Winnet leaped up and grabbed onto its other arm.  She scrambled up the side, nearly singeing herself on its boiler.  As she did, the ‘gear turned its attention on her, trying to grab her with its other hand.  She edged away from its grasp and reached a panel on the top of its hunched back.  She pulled it open, braced herself, and swung the wrench into the exposed workings.  It struck with a crunch of machinery and a spray of hydraulic fluid.  The ‘gear shuddered and fell over.  Winnet hopped off as it did.  She yanked the wrench out of the innards, pulled a rag out of her tool belt, and wiped off the wrench-head.  The ‘gear continued to twitch behind her.

            “What was that about?” Cass said.

            Winnet grinned.  “I forgot.  This is a Moler Model.  They don’t use the new gyrometric samoflange.  They use an old hydraulic actuator system.  A little harder to get to, but a little more catastrophic if it fails.”  She tucked the rag back into her tool belt.

            A crowd has gathered around them by that time.  Winnet’s father shoved his way through it.  Once he reached the center, he stood with his mouth wide open.

            “Sorry about that, Dad,” Winnet said.  “Don’t worry.  I can fix it.”

            Her father stared at the ‘gear.  “I’ve seen these things dig holes through granite.”  He grabbed Winnet’s shoulders.  “What were you thinking?  If it had gotten a hold of you…”  He hugged her tightly, and released her.  “Don’t ever do that again.”

            Winnet grinned.  “Sure, Dad.”

            Later, Cass found Winnet in the shop, fixing the ‘gear.  “It’s after midnight.  You’re still working?”

            Winnet looked up from the ‘gear and lifted a pair of goggles off her eyes.  “Yes.  Trying to get this working again and figure out why it went berserk.”

            “I can tell you that,” Cass said, yawning.  “Your dad and I examined the control rod.  Whoever sold it to us gave the wrong command code.  The first thing it did was tear apart the mage pilot.”

            Winnet winced.  “The wrong codes?”

            Cass shrugged.  “They didn’t have them?  It was second hand.”

            Winnet shook her head.  “Who sold it?”

            “Someone from one of the larger mining corporations, I think.”

            Winnet climbed off the ‘gear.  “Which one?”

            “Not sure which one, but I think it’s the same one who’ve been talking to your dad.”

            Winnet rubbed her chin.  “He didn’t mention that either.”  Winnet sighed.  “Have you heard about the strike breaking?”  She shook her head.  “The hostile take overs?”  She sighed and looked at the ‘gear.  “The person who sold it probably gave us the wrong commands on purpose.”