Drone

13 Our yard.

The extra day proved to be much needed and was well received. Niklas' headache matured, and he spent the day in bed. He endured the day full of insufferable med cravings. Lill attended to him with great care, but she was beyond confused. His infected lash marks had been healing at a tremendous pace until his med burned out. Now, they were left to recover a bit more naturally. His face was more or less normal now. The deep scabs of his faceless mark were the only thing that stood out.

By the next day, Niklas' headache had died down a bit, and he found a tiny familiar flicker of valor. Not the fierce fire of valor the med caused, but the candlelight sense of valor that he suspected all men carried naturally. It was an instinctive fire that drove men to act and fight.

Better as he felt, he still had no cesh. So he was up early with Robin as they made their way to the lumberyard, sure to be the first to arrive.

A short time later, Niklas ignored the sweat on his brow as he accepted another log from Robin. He ran it through the frame saw. The saw groaned as it spat wood chips in the air. Sore and satisfied, sawdust began to build in a pile at his feet.

Niklas and Robin had found several ways to cut back on time. Not wasting motion or getting distracted, they made far more progress on their workload than everyone else in the yard. While focused on his work, Niklas avoided thinking about med.

The bell sounded, signaling them it was time for the third break. Robin looked at Niklas hopefully, but Niklas shook his head.

"Niklas!" he gasped. "We have already skipped our first two breaks. If I don't rest, I'll burn out before the end of the day."

"No," Niklas said, noting Robin's obvious fatigue. He could tell Robin was trying his best to be stoic, but now he was reaching his breaking point. Robin had worked as hard as any Sharderin Drone Niklas knew, but it was taking its toll. "Soon," Niklas promised encouragingly.

"Niklas, the next break isn't for two hours," he tried hopefully.

"Our next break will be soon," Niklas insisted, though honestly, he was still struggling to figure out the next steps in the plan.

"What do you mean?" Robin asked, the panic of exhaustion dripping from his voice.

"Trust me," Niklas said, nodding with respect. Robin's efforts today had far passed any Relrin Niklas had seen yet.

Two men glared at them as they trudged back to the break hut. The spite was apparent in their eyes. Niklas could feel their dislike.

"What is their problem?" he asked.

"I don't know." Robin shrugged. "They may think we are shooting for position."

"What's wrong with that?" Niklas asked. "We are."

"That sort of thing is frowned upon here," Robin cautioned. "People can get jealous and start to feel insecure."

He looked after them troubled.

"Are you worried?" Niklas asked, "Do you care about their judgment?"

"No! It's not that."

"You fear them?" Niklas asked, still unsure of his comrade's unrest.

"Look," Robin started, "if enough men in the yard hate us too much, they could drive us out. It's happened before."

"Well then. I'll go talk to them," Niklas offered as he set down a plank and started after them.

"No!" Robin cried. "We just ought to be careful, that's all."

Niklas couldn't help but feel amused. He concluded that Robin feared not only conflict but the very idea of confrontation itself. It was very different from the Sharderin society Niklas grew up in. Competition was the lifeblood of his people. Rivalry was their friendship, contention, their play.