“Is it just me or do we seem to spend the majority of our time just waiting for the next battle to start?” the man asked casually.
“It does seem that way, doesn’t it?” the woman replied just as casually. “Such is the life we lead.”
The man smiled at her. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
The woman’s answering smile told him she wouldn’t have it any other way either.
The rear mansion door opened, and a man moved toward them with a purpose. The young man studied him though the hatch porthole as he approached. His dress showed him as being of the mansion, not of the fields. In early middle age, he had black hair sprinkled with a few stray gray strands and was meticulous in appearance and manner. He moved with a bearing akin to a career military man as he stepped toward the shuttle. The young man pegged this man as the commander of the household staff with the title of head butler or something similar. Probably the job had been in his family for generations. He would have grown up on the estate and, in his heart of hearts, considered the estate as his also. He would be protective of the old man, and he would know the family secrets. Yes, the young man could deal with him. He took an object from his pocket into his hand, pushed the hatch open, and moved down two metal steps to the ground one meter below. The women moved into view in the hatch but did not come down. She continued to hold the rifle ready and continually swept the area with her gaze. The approaching man regarded them both with no expression. He stopped a pace in front of the young man.
“You are uninvited guests trespassing on privately owned land. Please leave.” No threatening tone. Simply a man making a request. The threats would come later, if needed.
The young man spoke directly to the point with no fanfare. “For him.” He had taken the object out earlier because he didn’t want to reach into his pocket in front of these men and inadvertently start a firefight. He extended his open palm now, and the butler took the object. He stared down at an antique watch and attached chain with curiosity. The young man watched him intently and wondered if he knew its import. As the butler turned it over in his hand, the young man could tell by the changing facial expression that the butler knew exactly what it meant. The man stopped staring at the object and now stared at the young man. Neither spoke for a moment as they traded intense gazes.
“Please wait here. I will return shortly,” the butler said in a mild tone. Yes, he certainly knew the secrets.
The butler departed at a brisker pace then his trip out. Near the house, he spoke to the men and they immediately moved toward an outbuilding that must have been a bunkhouse or community room. Soon the two shuttle occupants were alone behind the house.
“You got their attention,” stated the young woman from the shuttle hatch.
The man nodded, “It’s a start.”
A few short minutes passed and then the butler returned at the same brisk pace minus the watch. He approached and slightly bowed his head. “The master would like a private meeting, if convenient.”
“Of course,” replied the young man, as if declining was a real option. He didn’t come all this way to not have a meeting.
The butler turned to the woman, “Madam, would you care to come in and have a meal or something to drink?”
“Thank you but I’m comfortable here.”
“Of course. I can have something brought out if you prefer.” The cultured, unruffled tone of the man’s conversation would lead one to conclude a young woman ensuring she kept a rifle not quite pointed at him was an everyday occurrence here.
“Perhaps iced tea?” asked the woman.
“By all means. It will be brought out shortly.”
The butler turned and motioned in front of him while looking at the young man. “Please. We will be going to the library.”
The young man moved toward the house with the butler a step behind. At the door, the butler reached in front of the man and opened it. The trip through the house was quick and quiet. The butler indicated turns with his hand and soon they were at the library door. The butler turned to the young man. He glanced down at the holstered pistol on the man’s left hip and then stared into the young man’s eyes. “Really, sir. It won’t do.”
“Of course. My apologies for bringing it into the house,” replied the young man as he undid the gun belt and left it and his dagger on a hall table.
The butler opened the library door, ushered the young man in, and then leaned in himself.
“Anything to eat or drink, sir?” He was addressing the lone occupant of the room sitting behind a large antique desk.
“Nothing, George. Thank you,” the old man responded.
“Sir.” George did not offer the visitor refreshment. If the master was not eating or drinking, his guest would not be partaking either. The door closed and the two were alone.
The old man did not rise from his seat and did not offer to shake hands. With a flick of his right index finger, he motioned to the chair in front of his desk. The young man moved to it and sat down. The two men regarded each other as the old man held the watch in his hand. He held it up by the chain and the watch swung slowly. Finally, he asked the obvious question. “How did you come by this?”
“My mother gave it to me.”
“How did she get it?”
“It was a gift to her husband, my father, and to anticipate the next question, he got it as a welcome-to-the-family gift on the occasion of their wedding. The gift came from my mother’s father. It was not a wedding gift as my parents eloped. It was given to my father by you. It’s been thirty plus eyears.”
“You do have the facts, but it wouldn’t have been difficult to learn them.”
The young man nodded in agreement but did nothing more. The old man waited five seconds for the visitor to expand on his nod, but nothing more was forthcoming. The silence continued. This situation had happened twice before. On each occasion, the imposter knew the pertinent facts about the elopement and, at this point in the process, each had babbled on, trying to convince the old man. This young man did none of that but sat quietly and waited for the next step. “If nothing else, he is a cool one,” thought the old man. Plus this young man did have the watch. Neither imposter had brought one with him.
“The next step is physical identification. This would include fingerprints, DNA, and body marks, if any. You can back out now with no… complications.”
“I’m fine.”
“Excellent.” The man pressed a button near him on the top of the desk and George appeared almost immediately. He had clearly been ready for this step.
George came to the desk and took out a single sheet of paper.
“Please press your fingers and thumb down on the indicated spots on the paper. I will also need a DNA sample, preferably blood if possible.”
“Blood works,” smiled the young man.
The young man put his fingerprints in the indicated spots and then reached onto the desk and lifted up an antique letter opener. He placed the point against his right little finger, pushed lightly, and then wiped the letter opener’s tip on his shirtsleeve and returned it to the desk. The drop of blood on his finger was pressed against the appropriate spot on the paper. He handed the paper back to George who exited after a slight bow to the old man.
The two men settled back in their seats. Silence again dominated the room. Each man took the measure of the other and neither bothered to hide the fact. The old man had sat across from people in business negotiations, political deal making, foreign conferences, and on countless other occasions. Invariably, these people would want to talk. They would talk about themselves, their families, or their hopes for the current meeting. They would ask about the same things from him. The old man didn’t know why, but he always considered that need to talk a weakness. It wasn’t logical, but there it was. While always courteous to those across the table, he never spoke first.
Time slowly slithered by. It didn’t bother the old man and seemed not to affect the young man either. They looked e
ach other over yet again. The old man noted the young man did not look around the library or compliment the furnishings. Guests usually did this to make a good impression or as a response to the silence, but not this man. Again unusual. The visitor continued to regard him silently.
The old man returned the look. He continued to evaluate his guest. He came to several conclusions. This man was a person of action who did not rattle easily. He had a few visible scars on his body that seemed to indicate he had been in tight spots and gotten out of them. The fact that he flew right to the house and essentially demanded an audience showed he was not shy about pushing events once he decided on a course of action. If he was his grandson, he had lived for years with that knowledge and had not come here to try to cash in on his heritage. This showed he was self-sufficient and was leading a life of his own. That long wait and the calming demeanor now on display showed this was a man of patience and vigilance. As the old man sized up his guest, he came to two definite conclusions. The man on the other side of his desk was a very dangerous individual, and he found himself hoping the potential of this meeting would pass into fact. It had been a long time since he had had hope about anything and he liked the feeling.
George came in with a sheet of paper, placed it on the desk, and departed. The old man regarded the single sheet without picking it up for a moment, and the young man watched benignly. The old man watched the young man. No anxiety, no twitching, no outward reaction to the paper at all. Yes, a cool one, to be sure. The old man reached over, lifted the paper, and reviewed it with all the facial expression of looking over a restaurant menu.
“It seems we have a match. Based on this you would be my grandson. But these things can be faked. What distinctive body marks do you have?”
“None.”
“My grandson had a large birthmark on his lower left calf.”
“Well, I don’t so I must not be your grandson, and my mother lied to me all those years.”
Neither man moved. If the young man was now caught in the lie, he was remarkably calm about it. The old man studied him yet again.
“There was no birthmark. You don’t rattle easily.”
“I’ve been in a few tight spots in my life. Panic just gets you killed.”
“Where is your mother?”
“She was killed in a Goth attack 16 standard years ago.”
The old man closed his eyes for a long moment, exhaled slowly, and refocused on his visitor. “Tell me about her.”
The young man was prepared to tell the whole story except for one event. That event was not his to tell. He began with his earliest recollections. After leaving home, his mother had returned to the university and completed her nursing degree. She met an idealist young college professor. The professor had a brother who was a preacher and also wanted to make a difference in the universe. The preacher had a wife who shared his passion. Eventually, funded by various charities and religious groups, the small group set off to improve the lot of mankind. They worked in the Empire and on several planets in the Orion Confederation. They moved from planet to planet and had done some good in many places. Schools were started and churches were begun. Medical supplies and knowledge were distributed. People joined their group and helped in many places. Sometimes the people stayed for several planets and sometimes for only their own planet. But their little group always moved on. There was always another planet to reform so they never stayed longer than six months in one place. The group constantly communicated with the places they had left and were always pleased to see that the seeds they had planted often grew into solid, permanent improvements. They had made friends throughout the universe. It seemed progress was being made and they were making a difference.
Regardless of the planet or the situation, there was always one common occurrence. The children were the most affected. Abandoned, orphaned, or runaways, there were always young victims washing up from the cesspools to land on the small beach of decency created by the little band. The preacher and his wife adopted two daughters along the way. A child was added here and there as the group travelled between planets and between empires. Soon eight children were with the four adults.
The college professor and Aberdene never married but were always a couple with a common goal of making the universe better. The children were continually educated by the adults and attended classes in the schools the adults started. The children learned from working on all the projects and meeting hundreds of people of different planets and cultures. The years swept past.
Eventually the group moved into the Badlands. The second planet they settled on was Bolindale. This planet was wholly owned by a single mining corporation. The mines brought out only one mineral, titanium. This metal has been vital to several industries since the 20th century on old Earth. The corporation sold to a variety of customers but the Goldenes Tor Empire bought 80% of the production. The miners were paid a minimum wage and lived in general squalor. The mines were dangerous resulting in two or three major accidents each year with loss of lives. There were no attempts to improve the mine safety conditions or the living conditions of the workers and their families. Aberdene and the group quickly became embroiled in planetary politics when she tried to organize the miners into a union. It was slow going until a mine cave-in resulted in the deaths of eight miners in a small mine near the town where the group was working. The town’s people were devastated by the loss. The surviving miners quickly organized into a union and promptly went on strike for better working conditions. The corporation offered to meet in one of the buildings located at the mine. The four adults of the traveling group and several town leaders attended the meeting. As the group waited at the building, a Goth shuttle attacked and destroyed it, killing all the occupants. At the same time, an overhead bombardment of the town was conducted by the Goths from low orbit. The majority of the town’s population was killed, but the group’s eight children and five children from the town were spying on the meeting from a nearby hillside grove. The armed shuttle could have located them with their sensors but that crew had been boresighted on the target building. After the attack, the young man had lead a team of children down to the site and found nothing but a small ruined stone foundation with smoking ruins atop it. There were no intact bodies, only small pieces. He and the other survivors buried the remains in a common grave.
The young man paused in his story now. The old man had asked no questions during this narrative. Now he regarded his guest before speaking with regret.
“Your mother always was idealistic.”
“She was a naive fool.” No emotion or blame in the young man’s voice, simply a statement of fact. The old man was a bit taken back. Not that he disagreed with the sentiment; he had said it himself numerous times, often directly to his daughter. He was surprised the young man said it so calmly about his mother.
The young man noted the surprise. “Don’t get me wrong. I loved my mother. She wasn’t wrong in her morals. She was wrong in her methods. She just did not have a realistic view of the universe. She thought she could persuade people to voluntarily give up money, power, and social position based on her arguments and her definition of fairness. She also thought the people working with her would be as dedicated to the cause as she was. Thus, she constantly underestimated her opponents and overestimated her allies and herself. These are terrible habits to have when you’re trying to save mankind, especially in the Badlands.”
The old man nodded in agreement. Those were his daughter’s traits and those traits could get you killed not only in the Badlands, but also anywhere in the universe.
There was a polite knock. George opened the door and leaned in. The old man was not surprised to see him. He must have secretly pressed a buzzer to bring George. He hadn’t taken his hands off the desk so it was done with his knee or foot.
“Please prepare something cold to drink, George,” the old man spoke softly.
“And the young lady outside?” George asked politely.
“Dear me,” the
host shook his head. “I have been quite remiss in my manners.” He turned to his visitor. “I would like to hear your story since that incident. Do you mind if your companion is here for that?”
“Not at all. In fact, she was a large part of it.”
The old man turned back to George. “Please ask her to join us.”
“Sir.”
George was about to withdraw when the young man looked over at him and said, “George, please say to her, ‘I like beer’ before inviting her in.”
“I assume a code phrase, sir.”
“Yes, if you invite her in without saying that, she may think it’s a trap and shoot you.”
“That would be unfortunate, especially for me,” George replied wryly and disappeared.
“I like him,” the young man stated.
“George really runs this place. He is third generation and knows the estate and the family inside and out,” replied the old man.
The silence resumed for the minute it took for the young woman to join them.
The young woman was ushered in and seated. She displayed better manners than her companion, having left her rifle out in the shuttle. Cold drinks were provided to the two men, and the lady’s iced tea glass was refilled.
“I assume you do not go by the name Zachary Lindstrom?” the old man started again.
“No.”
“Then formal introductions are in order,” the old man stood, walked around the desk and extended his right hand. “Tobias Gallagher, 6th Duke of Black Hallow.”
The young man rose and took the handshake, “Raferty Hawkins, pirate captain.”
Echoes from Yesterday: Pirates of the Badlands Series Book 4 Page 3