by Chris Hechtl
“Who said anything about that?” Sue asked, spreading her hands... She knew damn well where this was leading he knew, knew it and lied right to his face. Typical, he thought with a mental snarl. “You nit, she liked you. You finally thawed her out when you started to talk about astronomy. She's been into it since she was a little girl. That broke the ice,” she said.
He froze and then frowned thoughtfully, remembering her keen interest with the astronomers and then in his quarters. “Okay,” he said backing down a little. “I'll give you that,” he said grudgingly. “But you and your cronies are out of this. Pass the word, no more crap. Yeah, I know you're setting me up. Teaching her how to get through my guard. She's got enough of an advantage as it is so knock the shit off.”
“You don't like her?”
“I... that's no one's business. I'm not going to be here long enough so why go there?” he demanded. “I'm serious Sue, knock off the crap, I don't have time for it,” he growled.
“Yes sir captain sir,” she mockingly said, coming to attention and saluting with a sneer. His eyes flashed.
“I said I don't need the crap Doc,” he growled.
“Oh grow up. Be a man,” she said.
Again his eyes flashed. “So what you're saying is I should spread my legs, close my eyes and enjoy it?” he asked.
Suddenly she paled. Her fist clenched. She wanted to slap him but restrained herself. Finally he looked away. “Okay, a little uncalled for,” he admitted softly. But there was a hint of truth to it, they both realized. She, some of the Terrans, were pushing them together not because they'd make some sort of cute couple but like the Queen they wanted an assurance that their power and life would continue. “Sorry,” he finally muttered.
She breathed through her nose a few times, gathering the shreds of her temper and firmly keeping them in check. Finally she nodded. “So play it by ear. Don't bite her head off for finally being nice and warming up to you. Maybe it'll force Rojer to rethink his plans and buy us some time, who knows?” she asked throwing up her hands. “One day at a time boss. Just think about that,” she said. “That's all we ever have,” she said jerking the door open and exiting the room.
He sighed and shook his head. After a moment to think about what she had said he followed.
That went over well, Sue thought, brushing at her smock. Damn, she thought, shaking her head. This little soap opera of theirs was going to get interesting.
Chapter 11
“So we're waiting on shipments of the creatures the knights ride for them to go active?” Perry asked, sounding tired but exasperated. One of the branacks came in with a rider. The rider was sitting up straight in the saddle, when he got to the loading platform a stable hand grabbed the reins so he could get off and stretch. He stretched for a moment, smiling as his mount danced in place.
The beast gave a stuttering caw, and then warbled up and down the keys. The rider reached over and rubbed at its jaw and neck and then patted its flank. The beast nudged him. A pair of stable hands came over and wrapped over-sized jogging muffins around each rear calf, and then they turned to rub the creature.
“Yes,” the general's aide bobbed his head. “Is impossible to fight on foot in armor.” He waved to indicate the knights training nearby outside. They were in a mix of different armor styles. They were in the mail stables, one of three stables in the keep. The other two were for general riding mounts and war mounts.
The capital had stables situated all around, both civilian and government. The royal stables were quite large, on par with some of the largest stables and wooden buildings on Earth. Grand central station made out of brick, cement, and the native wood and plywood. Another set of buildings outside the city walls were for the draft animals that pulled the giant caravan wagons or the plows and other machinery the smiths were now churning out.
He'd really thought the draft animals were the war beasts. They were certainly big enough, titanic six legged elephant like creatures. But apparently they were slow moving and balked at the smell of blood. Over the thousands of years the natives had found other more terrifying war beasts to ride.
“Especially when your enemy has mounts and you don't. Okay got that,” Perry nodded. “They're coming from the royal farms?” he asked. He'd just heard about them and was a little annoyed. Apparently there had been a disconnect, an assumption that he knew that simple fact. The royal farms were great reserves that supported the war beasts and animals for the royal stables. A few were close but most were further afield. You really didn't want one of the rhinotrikes running around apparently.
“Yes and the nearby lords as well,” the aide said nodding as a messenger handed him a packet. The aide looked a lot like the general, wearing Roman style clothing topped by a blue tunic. He had chain mail instead of loricated plate armor in his quarters though.
“What about using them?” Perry pointed to the messenger's steed. It was a local beast called a branack, nearly two meters tall at the shoulder and covered with spikes.
The creature munched on a bale of hay while its rider stripped off the royal saddle and saddle bags. The creature had the typical six legs, but the front two had atrophied to look like a pair of T-Rex clawed forearms. The animals stood on their rear legs, even ran as a biped. But when feeding they dropped to their rear four legs.
This one had three horns for a crest, great long spikes that bent back toward the spine. Along the back were four rows of spines, some covering the shoulder joints. Scales were interwoven with the spikes, covering the top of the critter from nose to tail.
Another of the creatures was led by. It was missing its spikes; it looked almost plain in comparison. The first snorted and then cawed a throaty challenge. The second seemed to shy away from its paddock; its two handlers had to slap it back under control.
The second lifted its head up to give a throaty caw and its handler smacked it on the snout. It turned, gave him a look with six beady eyes, and then went back to feeding with its beak.
“No they... not eat meat.”
“That's not exactly a requirement, Terran horses don't,” Perry pointed to a horse in a nearby stall. He was actually surprised the natives kept the all the different species under one roof.
“They also flighty, fast but tire easy.”
“Ah. Sprinters,” the lieutenant said nodding as he watched the horned creature fidget and twitch, then scratch at an itch. Its handler used a rake to scratch the itch. It gave a whistle of delight and then sighed, closing some of its eyes.
“Why does that one have horns and the other doesn't?” Ryans asked coming up behind them. They turned to nod politely.
“Ah, hot...” The aide picked up a stick then touched it to his skin and made a sizzling sound.
“Debudding,” Perry nodded.
“Right,” the aide said nodding but not understanding. “Is so animal lighter, faster.” He waved to the one with horns. “This one from distant fields where predators attack. Must leave horns to protect... or so they say,” he shrugged.
“Ah. So they are too flighty for line fighting... I wonder if they could make good cavalry units? With bows or better yet rifles?” Perry asked musing. He rubbed his chin.
“I doubt it,” the aide said shaking his head. “Is...” He pantomimed fright.
“Fraidy cat? Drills and conditioning would fix that.”
“Is not just that,” the aide made a motion with his hand then toppled the hand over.
“It faints?” Ryans asked, blinking in surprise and then he turned to the big thing. “I heard about it in goats, but that's kind of hard to believe in something that big. That would make it a liability when being chased by a predator.”
There was a distant explosion. Some of the people ducked in fright, each of the branacks rolled its eyes and stiffened... and then fell over twitching, legs outstretched.
“Oh... yeah, that'd be a show stopper,” Perry said snorting. “So much for that idea,” He shook his head. He touched his throat mike. “This
is Five, report.”
“This is three, test fire of gunpowder.”
“Next time send an alert beforehand. You might have caused an accident. I take it things went well?” Perry asked.
“Yes sir, we'll give a full report when the chemists are done.”
“Roger. Five clear.”
“Okay, so, we can't use them for that...” He grunted then turned to a young man tugging on his elbow. “What is it son?”
The young man dressed in royal colors looked a little nervous but determined. He took off a leather helmet and tucked it under one arm. “Is it true that you are going to do away with us?”
Perry's brows knit. Ryans did as well. “Where'd you hear that?” Perry asked as Ryans opened his mouth.
The young man pointed to his radio. “Some say you make those for lords.”
“Ah,” Ryans nodded. “Not today, and not for some time. And no, they won't leave you out of a job.” He pulled out his radio. “See these have a short range and limited bandwidth. That means we can't talk with someone very far away and we can't have a lot of people talking.”
Perry nodded. “We've got telephones though, and broadband internet.” He gave a look to Ryans then shrugged. “But not for at least a decade kid.”
“What he means is that messages can be sent easily with those tools, but packages still need to be carried by you,” Ryans explained pointing to the boy and the others that had quietly come up behind them. “Low priority messages or ones that need total security will still be carried by you folks. That won't change overnight. Eventually though machines will be phased in to make things faster and easier,” he smiled. “That is if we stay a long time.”
“They don't exactly look reassured,” Perry murmured.
“Would you be?” Ryans snorted. “We'll need people to operate those machines when they come into service. Also people to keep them running. I'll make sure you folks get the first pick of the jobs when they are phased in.”
The men and women nodded. Perry noted that none were over four feet five inches tall. Most where greyhound thin. “Jockeys,” he said nodding.
“I know you have to watch your weight and height right?” he asked. Some of the jockeys nodded.
“Those in the races have to. Our elite and long distance runners as well,” the aide said proudly nodding.
“Yeah, I saw the tracks. Sometime I'll have to check a race out,” Perry smiled. “Bet it's something else.” He chuckled.
“Betting is done yes,” the aide said nodding.
“Yeah...” Perry said smiling. “The good thing about the machines is you don't have to watch your weight to ride them, and they can go as long as you fuel them and fix them when they need it. They don't get tired and they don't sleep. I'll put a word in with Max. Maybe he can build you folks a moped or motorcycle or even bicycles so you can deliver stuff.”
“Bicycle?” Ryans asked amused.
“For local delivery,” Perry said waving his hands then turning back to the crowd. “Bikes are machines that are human powered. You can ride along the streets and deliver packages and mail door to door very fast. They are small and light so it is easy to get in and out of tight places and crowds.” He indicated the animals still trying to right themselves, “easier than these fellows.”
Some of the riders nodded and smiled at this.
“But don't worry; we've got years before things get moving. And right now we've got a war to win right?” Ryans asked, pitching that last part as more of a challenge than a question.
Perry and the aide nodded firmly. “Right!” the crowd answered after a moment.
“Then let's get to it. Break is over; let's go get ready to kick some Duluth ass!” Ryans said slapping his hands together. The branack nearest to them fainted. “Oops,” he winced, hunching his shoulders as Perry chuckled. The crowd left muttering to itself.
<==={}------------>
Art’ur was concerned about the lack of supplies and the news from home. He reacted badly when the latest supply train arrived. It was a bare days worth of supplies for his army, far too little to sustain it. He snarled, watching the men unload the meager supplies through his open tent flap.
“They dare? That's all?” he growled shifting about on his makeshift throne. He'd had it made since the siege had gone on far longer than he had thought. The fact that the older lords and his own general had counseled and warned him this would happen hadn't sat well with him. He'd thought that with proper persistence and force it could be done. Why! Why did they not obey his simple commands? Why did Emroy still resist? Why didn't he surrender?
“It is all they have my lord. The larders are bare and the hunting...” Uuôden sighed and shook his head.
The elderly and younglings couldn't hunt. They had done little to plow and sow the fields. If this didn't work, if it didn't develop into something many would die of starvation come winter. “Lazy! That's what they are!” Art’ur shouted, throwing the sheaf of papers into the fire before any of his lords could read it for themselves.
Uuôden frowned. The lesser lords were chafing at being held to the siege. Young Art’ur was now finding out what it truly meant to fight a war, the horrible waiting. It took a level of patience that youth was not well known for.
Art’ur was finding that not everything went as you planned. That your great schemes could be undone by the simplest of things, a spring storm, or a stubborn lord under siege. His grand idea of conquest was being threatened from within as well as without and he didn't like it.
“Do you wish to pass on orders my liege?” Uuôden asked. Art’ur said nothing, staring at nothing as he rubbed the stubble on his chin. He didn't even have a man's full beard yet, Uuôden thought. Far too young to be King.
“Eh? No, there's nothing I can do from here,” Art’ur finally admitted. He felt unease over this development. If his lords got wind of it they would begin to urge to pull back, to see to their neglected lands and abandoned people. They couldn't see the bigger picture but he could!
The lazy fools back home should have done more. Of course he had taken every draft animal for his army so they couldn't do much. He rubbed his brow, thinking hard. No, he could rant on paper but dared not. He dared not leave a written record for others to see and use against him. He considered sending back trains of slaves and some of his wounded or even a score of men to whip the lazy louts into doubling their efforts but then discarded the idea. His people were not happy and chafed at being held to the siege but he needed all of them here. Those that were wounded could still serve or would die of their wounds. He'd already ordered the dead to be fed to the titans.
He frowned. His men were restive. He turned. “Have a few deserters publicly put to death to shut the whiners,” he ordered. “Use the stakes. When they're dead they can be fed to the titans,” he growled.
“They will certainly serve as a warning to others my lord,” the general said with a nod.
“Yes, see to it,” the King said. The general saluted him with his fist, bowed over it and then left without a backwards look.
“Fools all of them,” the King muttered. He took a drink from his mug and then threw it across the room. It hit the tent wall and stained it. “Fools!” he raged.
<==={}------------>
Wanda smiled as she and Tau did inventory. Tau was a fountain of information, peppering her with descriptions and explanations to equal what she tried to pass on to him. She had found out that the sulfur the Imperium had stockpiled was from an inactive volcano to the south east. Tau told her how they gathered it. He was sober and intent as he explained; she wasn't sure why at first. “Men go there and haul out the sulfur on their backs by hand, walking leagues up and down the rocky hills, breathing the fumes in through a cloth over their faces. It takes dedication to do it, not many live for more than ten years before dying of lung disease,” he explained. “My father did it so I could become what I am today,” he said.
“Damn,” she mumbled, holding the yellow powdery subst
ance in her hand. It slowly crumbled as her grip tightened. “Then we better make sure it's put to good use then,” she said firmly.
<==={}------------>
Rojer was not amused by the Baron's attempt on Perry's life and counseled the Baron to patience. Pettigrew was there and nodded sagely, further humiliating the Baron. He simmered, a cloud of resentment lingering around him. Finally he stormed out to find a man to practice with. He needed to vent. “He'll probably end up killing the poor sap in his condition,” Selena commented.
“Better if it's one of his men than one of ours,” the Duke replied. He nodded to his steward. “See that our men are... busy,” he said. The steward nodded and left.
“And now for you my dear,” Rojer said, looking to Serena. She smiled and cocked an eyebrow at him. He snorted. “Now don't play innocent with me, I heard you ordered a new dress. A fetching one I assume. But not too influenced by the gaijin I hope?” he asked.
“Nor too expensive you really mean?” she asked with a sweet smile. There was of course steel behind that smile. Her husband knew better than to interfere with her... distractions. She sat on the edge of the desk, crossed her arms and looked at him expectantly.
“No, I dare say it'll cost a bundle. Does it at least come with shoes this time?” he asked.
“You'll see,” she smiled at him. He snorted, shuffling a set of papers on his desk. “Was it all bad with Doland and Pyror?” she asked, smile disappearing.
He sighed. “Can't fool you can I?” he asked, giving her a sidelong look. She snorted softly at the very idea. He smiled a little and picked up his wine glass. “Yes, my dear it was. Oh not just Pyror, but also the knowledge this gaijin leader has of our people and our ways. He is off on some things but he knows too much for our own good.”
“Ah,” Serena said, caressing his shoulder. She looked at him with loving eyes. “Should he then be dealt with?” she asked softly.
His eyes cut to hers and then away. He tapped his right fingers on the desk bloater, unsure. Ryans... Ryans was the keystone to the others. He wasn't certain what Perry would do with Ryans gone. Ryans was also a crafter of the machines the gaijin used, or so his spies had reported. That was something else to be considered. He wasn't certain of all their inventions but some were quite innovative and good. Good if he could take advantage of them of course. “He is of much use to us now. But the future... the future is a different thing.”