Distant Shores - Marco Palmieri [29]
The first thing Kes did was kneel and open the chest. It was filled with hand tools, each of which B’Elanna identified for her. Saws, hammers, a metal tape measure, coils of braided rope, and a level were among them, and a pickax and two shovels were invisible in the higher grass until B’Elanna pointed them out. “They’re all appropriate for the nineteenth-century time frame,” she explained. Indicating the boards, she said, “Thankfully they had sawmills, so we don’t have to plane the boards ourselves.” She led Kes to a flat span of earth nearby that was covered with several planks. “They also had steam engines for drilling wells.” She squatted and lifted one of the boards so Kes could peek inside. “Ours is already dug.”
B’Elanna stood and wiped her hands on her pants, khaki-colored ones that were wide through the hips and thighs and tapered close to the ankles. Kes straightened, too, and asked, “How do you know all this?”
B’Elanna grinned. “I did an eighth-grade history presentation on building these mills. I hated history, but once I realized the project I’d picked was more about physics and construction than history, I got really into it. Earned an A. It seems to have stuck with me, too.”
“It’s wonderful, B’Elanna. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me until you see if you enjoy it. Which reminds me-how do you feel about heights?”
“They don’t bother me.” Kes smiled. “But maybe I should rethink that given the hoverball disaster. Why do you ask?”
“Because there are two ways to put up the mill. We can build it flat on the ground and then pull it up with a block and tackle and some horses, or we can build it upright, climbing and building as we go.”
“How about we put it up as we go. That way we can do it all ourselves.”
“All right. We’ll keep it small, though, since neither of us has ever done this before. Plus, the boards can get heavy if they’re really long.” B’Elanna consulted a copy of the plans. “About six meters high, maybe, instead of the usual minimum of nine. And, hmm, a one-and-a-half-meter wheel.” She moved toward the pick and shovels. “But that’s the last you’ll hear of standard units on this project. The old-fashioned ones are more authentic.” She grinned. “If you’ll grab the tape measure, the first thing we need to do it measure and then dig the holes for the anchor posts.”
As Kes helped B’Elanna measure four equal distances from the center of the well and mark them by piercing the earth with the pick, B’Elanna asked her, “How have you been doing these last few days? Since I couldn’t start working on this with you any sooner, I was afraid you’d be feeling anxious.”
“I guess anxious is a good way to describe it.” Kes clutched her hands over her chest. “I feel tight here. But more in an anticipation kind of way than an angry kind of way, thanks to this project.”
B’Elanna marked the last spot with the pick, leaving it stuck in the ground. “I’m glad you’ve been looking forward to it, but this first part is less than glamorous. I’ll break up the ground with the pick to start each hole, and then we start digging with the shovels.”
Once B’Elanna started hacking with the pick, Kes was grateful that the half-Klingon had offered to perform that task. The steel pick weighed over four kilos, and Kes could see B’Elanna’s arm muscles strain to heft it over her head and throw it to the ground. Her breathing came hard and loud, almost like grunts, but she was smiling as though she enjoyed it.
Once B’Elanna had broken up the first section of grass and topsoil, Kes moved in with a shovel. There was a cool breeze that rustled her hair and billowed her shirt, and though she was perspiring within five minutes of turning her first shovelful of dirt, she found herself pleasantly damp rather than hot and sweaty.
When B’Elanna finished picking and started digging her own hole, Kes asked her, “Were you able to adjust the sensors to find out more about that ship they’d detected?”
“Yes,” B’Elanna answered, turning over the earth as if it were no effort at all. “But it didn’t do