The final barge of the day passed through the entry to Barry’s section of the canal locks. He checked the weight on the old sensors; they were so ancient they still required physical contact with the boat rather than a scan. It weighed exactly 1,500 tons, exactly the same as usual.
“Midwest Federation Barge 4-2-1-9, state your cargo and destination.” Barry said in a cheery tone; he’d learned to hide his boredom.
“750 tons of dry foodstuffs in the fore section. In the aft section, 350 tons of fabricated metal products, 50 tons of agricultural supplies, and another 350 tons of lumber destined for Ann Arbor at the end of the Grand Canal.” The captain said as Barry checked the manifest he’d been sent that morning, confirming all the details.
“You’re cleared for passage. Next gate is at Ionia in 34.28 miles. Due to nighttime travel regulations, you’ll be staying there for the night.” Barry hit the mechanism again, the water rising a dozen or so feet to the level of the Grand River as it snaked around Grand Rapids.
“Confirmed.” The barge’s captain said as it continued its stroll down the Grand Canal, just one part of the Grand Bargain struck between Marquette and the Midwest Federation over the use of their mutual resources.
With his job done for the week, Barry left his station and walked through the canal yard.
“Thanks for taking the extra time tonight Barry. I know the new rules are annoying, but given everything that’s gone on recently, I think they’re needed.” His boss said, not even looking up at him as she locked up the workstations and equipment.
“I understand. At least it’s a few more hours; Lord knows I could definitely use them.” Barry chuckled.
“Yes, I do. I just want you to be back before curfew. The second-to-last train is about to leave, and I don’t want to keep you here any longer; we’ve had enough people fined this week.” She gestured towards the main entrance.
“Of course. Thanks boss. See you on Monday.” Barry gave her a polite wave goodbye as he walked to the rail station outside the main entrance, making sure her back was turned when he entered. Barry had to be sure she didn’t notice he was headed east to Ionia, not west to his home.
He scanned his card on one of the several deserted cars travelling the westbound Light Line, but walked away at the last second for the eastbound line, paying cash for the vehicle which just so happened to be delayed by a minute, even on this desolate night.
Barry took a nap in the empty eastbound car; 48 minutes for the 32 miles to the Ionia station. The Ionia station’s lights woke him up as he exited the train. Going through the automatic doors, Barry took in the station and its surrounding buildings, a colonial-style brick archipelago in a sea of green and golden fields, its stark white clock tower the highest building in the town.
Walking through the station’s other five platforms, Barry walked half a mile down the cobblestone streets, the glow of the city’s LED street lights modified to give the appearance of oil lantern light, or at least that’s what he assumed they were going for.
Following the directions he was given, he stopped by the second bed-and-breakfast on the left side of Farnsworth Street. The building’s teal-and-white facade presented a stark contrast to the black and indigo cobblestone, red brick, and gray mortar of the rest of the street. Barry rang the bell, hearing footsteps from the other side of the door scarcely three seconds later.
“I’m sorry, but we’re booked tonight, and besides, I doubt you want to pay our post-curfew rates.” The owner laughed, still in his dress shirt at this late hour.
“That’s a shame; I love the place’s paint job.” Barry said, holding the scrap of paper by his side.
“I suppose there’s always room for polite company. Even if they’re a couple minutes late.” The owner smiled, adjusting his glasses before opening the door for Barry.
“Thank you. I’m sorry to be in such a rush.” Barry said, struggling to keep eye contact as he walked through the house, which was decorated as if it were in the original Ionia on the Mediterranean coastline, with ornate columns and touches of marble, and a color scheme which matched the building’s exterior.
“Not to worry; I’m used to customers who’re in difficult situations. In fact, I have a room for people who are in just your situation.” The owner opened the wooden door to the basement, the pristine décor giving way to creaky wood steps and concrete walls. Making a right at the bottom of the stairs, the owner stopped at an ancient wooden door with a significantly newer lock, one which included both a physical key and a fingerprint scanner.
“This door’s helped quite a few people over the centuries, and while the people going through may have changed, its purpose is still the same; get to the river.” He smirked, the first time The Job formally came up.
“Thank you again; I know you’ve already been paid, but if there’s anything else you need . . .” Barry said, holding the door open.
“I just need you to win.” The owner said, his eyes deadlocked on Barry’s. “It’s been more than long enough.” Barry just nodded, picking up the bag that was left for him in the corridor.
The river was roughly a mile away; 15 minutes or so at a brisk walk, even with all that gear. The tunnel went from a buried corridor to a burrow which Barry swore would’ve struggled to fit an overweight badger, concrete walls turning to earthworks propped up by wood supports at least as old as he was. Barry could see the packed dirt in the walls shifting with each step, their particles dusting the ground behind where he walked. Still, if the passage hadn’t caved in for 300 years, it could last another 30 minutes. He hoped to be done by then.
The tunnel’s walls turned to metal for the final stretch. Barry cracked the door open, taking a quick glance around the underground docks to make sure things were clear. He heard footsteps above, doubtless the Federation security here to guard the barges while they were docked. “Right. What am I doing?” Barry said out loud as he put on his sep-focals, turning them to the infrared setting. There were half a dozen guards on the canal platforms, with another four up top in the towers. The barge would block two of the latter four’s views, while the group of six platform was split into three groups of two, all of them making a circuit around the two barges parked at the locks. His target was the smaller one, specifically its aft section.
After a few minutes of observation, Barry was able to find a small but noticeable gap in the patrol, sneaking out of the underground maintenance bay right behind a pair of guards too distracted by gossip in the Federation’s de jure territory. Now came the second-hardest part, actually getting onto the ship.
Barry had done what he was told to do, placing the mechanism on the sensor clamp at his canal station, but he was still unsure. What if it had come unstuck on the journey? Only one way to find out. He made his way to the aft section of the barge, right to the auxiliary door that was normally below the waterline. The device was still attached, and had already done its work; it would have been far too loud to use now. With a quick turn of the wheel on its front, Barry entered the barge, closing the door near silently behind him. The guards were, for now at least, none the wiser.
Barry let out a sigh of relief and got everything from the bag ready. Eight explosive devices weighing exactly 5 pounds each; one for each of the fabricated materials compartment. He also got the scale out, going to each compartment and removing exactly 40 pounds of nails, screws, hand tools, machine parts, or whatever else was in them to keep the barge’s weight the exact same. He dropped in the explosive devices, as well as 10 pounds of fertilizer from each of the agriculture supply compartments. All that remained now was the failsafe at the reserve fuel tank that Barry had prepared just in case the other charges were found.
Skipping by the battery room, Barry walked down the beige corridor towards the gasoline tanks, the dirt from his boots marking up the floor. Unsurprisingly, he found the door locked, so he went for his lockpick, the same as the one he placed with the clamp earlier. Its drilling couldn’t be heard by any of the guards from this far in the ship. All it needed was fifteen seconds to crack the lock . . .
“WHAT do you think you’re doing here?” Came an angry woman’s voice behind Barry, her hand on her comm, thumb over the power button, ready to trigger it, at least that’s what she wanted Barry to think. He could see her hand trembling.
“Nothing you need to worry about. It doesn’t involve you.” Barry said, standing in front of the lockpick, as if that would somehow hide its noise.
“This is my ship. Everything and everyone on it is my problem.” She said sternly, still not triggering her comm for some reason.
“Your ship? Then why’d you come up with such a boring name?” Barry laughed.
“Very funny. Now, are you going to tell me why you’re here or do I need to have the guards beat it out of you?”
“Assaulting a Marquette citizen who has the proper permits for ship maintenance on the Grand Canal? Are you really that bold?”
“Wait, you think I’m with the Federation? I just haul for them. I don’t want any trouble either. And I really don’t want my ship damaged.” She said, her amber eyes shifting from the comm to Barry to the door, which now had a useless lock.
“You work for THEM? Do you know what they’ve done? Everyone else on this continent, they got their freedom after The Split, for better or worse, at least for a time. But us? From day one, we got a fucking charade. Our government, our industries, our land, our homes, our everything is subject to their whims and their surveillance. They make draconian rules for us to follow while not even following the lax ones they made for themselves. You think they give a shit about you because you sail some barge moving the goods they extorted out of us?” Barry’s hands were at his sides, just a few inches from the knives sheathed on each of his hips; they could cut more than ropes if the need arose.
The captain held out her hand, keeping the comm in the other. “I know they don’t care about me, but I have people I care about. And this is one of the few jobs that actually pays anymore, especially because it pays in their currency. I need this. My family needs this.” She paused, starting to choke up. She gathered herself before continuing, here eyes moving from the floor to meet Barry’s.
“And as right as you are about the Federation, innocents don’t need to die for this. You know their grip will only get harsher after this right? The iron fist won’t be in a velvet glove anymore, and it will crush whatever “resistance” you and your friends can put up. Are you willing to live or die with those consequences? Do you want your family to live or die with them?” Her lip began to tremble again as she brushed a sweat-soaked strand of honey-brown hair off her forehead.
“The facility I’m targeting is fully automated; all the free things we’ve given them have more or less paid for that.” Barry scoffed.
“But as for the fallout, that’s a risk I’m willing to take. The more we give up, the more they’re willing to take. We gave them miniscule concessions to start; discounts on agricultural goods in return for their outdated weapons. Docking rights in Green Bay in exchange for joint patrols of the Great Lakes, favorable currency rate exchanges for infrastructure projects, but things kept getting worse. Soon they had exclusive operating zones for their companies, the right to commandeer our equipment, including the very fucking barge we’re talking on, not to mention creating new political offices just for their relatives and underlings. We kept giving in and they kept taking. Maybe some pushback will lead them to act differently. And as for your family’s needs, I have a feeling they’ve insured this ship if it ever goes up, and well, there’s another option even if they haven’t.” Barry said, fully explaining the other option, but keeping his hands by his knives.
As he finished speaking, the Captain took her finger off the comm, sliding it on the floor towards him. “I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. I’m Nica.” She offered her hand.
“Are you just going to stare at it? Either shake it or stab me.” She laughed, as Barry’s heart was going way too fast to do anything for a moment.
“Sorry; I just didn’t think that would actually work.” Barry’s hands relaxed, but stayed at his sides.
“You’re more honest than them. I’ll give you that.” Nica said, pulling away her hand. Her humor failed to hide her nerves in a way that Barry more than understood.
Barry nodded as he set up the final device in the old gasoline tank; he figured most of the fuel would be well past spent by now, but it was still better than nothing. After placing that device, they double-checked the others.
“Now, to the bridge. One last part of the plan.” Barry had Nica recite her lines for inspection, the same as ever, leaving the recorder on the ship to play at the final two stops, Lansing, and then the extension to Ann Arbor. The latter was a shining jewel of the Federation with enough splendor and prestige to impress even the Acelan aristocrats, not to mention the regional capital after their Legislative Council deserted Detroit.
“Oh, I lied, there is one more part.” Barry smirked before smashing his fist into Nica’s jaw, sending a couple of her teeth onto the floor. “Sorry, but I had to do that; you’ll see why soon enough. We’ll get you fixed up later, but for now . . .” He handed her an abso-cloth to soak up the blood; it turned from white to maroon near instantly after Nica held it up to her face.
Nica just nodded, in no state to do anything else. Turning on his sep-focals again to see the patrolling guards, Barry helped Nica out of the ship, past the patrols and into the tunnel to the hotel. Now all they could do was wait, watching and listening on the surveillance systems Nica had installed when her vessel was first seized.
Barry and Nica watched on Barry’s tablet projector as the barge departed the next day at 7:30 a.m., making it to Lansing in a little over an hour, passing through the locks with no concerns. The trip to Ann Arbor was nearly twice as long, with the ship arriving at 10:45. It made its way through the locks with no concerns, going into the warehouse, a monstrosity of overlapping rectangles and triangles made of blue-silver glass staffed by a drone staff whose bodies were nearly as reflective as the window-walls.
The barge was pulled into loading dock 28 at 10:45, eight minutes before it was supposed to go up. The auto-tug took it to the agricultural loading dock first, where a dozen drones unloaded the food grown from Marquette’s territories on both sides of the lake, stacking them up with crates from the Great Plains Republic. Once the worker drones completed their final scan, the auto-tug took it to the industrial section, an even larger glass prism. The worker drones arrived, and right as the first one opened a container, the flash blinded the cameras and the shockwave blew out the speakers.
They’d succeeded, but had no idea to what extent.
Scarcely an hour after the explosion, Examiner Hilles arrived with her team, five assistant examiners, thirty lab techs, two for each ship, and two squads of military police, just in case the terrorists got any ideas.
The loading dock was a twisted, burning mess, its windows blown out or pierced by countless pieces of molten metal, and the supporting steel warped and crunched. Every couple minutes a new pane of glass or support beam would fall from the ceiling, making a dull thud when it hit the floor like a bullet against armor.
The worker drones’ glimmering exteriors were scorched black and perforated by all forms of shrapnel. It looked like they’d all been shot by a blunderbuss loaded with scrap metal. The barges sank to the extent that they could in the shallow water, their bridges emerging unevenly from below the surface, their goods either burnt to cinders or turned into projectiles themselves in the chain reaction the explosion started. Some of the barge captains who hadn’t disembarked yet made it to their ships’ safe rooms, some hadn’t, leaving almost nothing behind.
The security recordings revealed what happened. Nica Villi, the captain of Barge 4219 had been assaulted by a terrorist, and had her jaw broken when she fought back. She was incinerated for her heroism. A few teeth in her safe room were all that remained.
Examiner Hilles clenched her gloved fist upon finding what little remained of Captain Villi, her cobalt blue uniform covered in dirt, grime, and machine oil. “She was a hero; be sure that her family is taken care of. This should never have happened. Clearly our curfews haven’t been working. Get me through to the Marquette Council. We need to have a chat.”
“Yes ma’am.” Her subaltern gulped, his blue eyes wide.
Barry returned to his job at the Grand Rapids Locks following that weekend, only to find his work station shuttered and guarded by a couple dozen very well-equipped Federation soldiers who told him that the Grand Canal was closed “for the time being” and that Barry would be “Fully compensated for lost work.” He laughed at them, going back home before telling his boss that quit. Thankfully for him, he had another job lined up.
Three months later, the Ephesus Bed & Breakfast in Ionia completed its latest round of expansion, adding another floor of two rooms and some extra kitchen space. It also had a new sign, painted Marquette blue with golden lettering and accents. The final renovation was some long-overdue maintenance on the foundation after a few hundred years, with the digging lasting for weeks. Incredible what just two new employees could do for a place.