Her Majesty's Western Service

by Leo Champion

  Positions held through his long career include heading the Ministry of the Interior, the Okhrana, the Foreign Ministry and the Third Department. He has held his present title since 1940; despite his now-advanced age, he shows no signs of mental deterioration or reduced energy. He is experienced, devious, ruthless, powerful, and is believed to be one of the very few people with the present Tsar’s complete trust.

  From MI-7 files; February, 1963.

  “Finish loading that cargo already,” Nolan said to the stevodores, who were manhandling wet crates marked ‘Johannson’ from another barge into the Red Wasp II’s hold. “Looks like we’ve got to move.”

  “Damn right you have to move,” Perry said, glancing over his shoulder. They didn’t appear to be under pursuit, but you never knew. Perhaps Lynch’s enemy wouldn’t be content with simply killing her, would want to sweep up her associates, too.

  A mobile barge had drawn up along the stationary one the airship was moored to, and a human chain of shirtless, sweating stevodores were passing the crates up into the hold. It did look like they were almost done.

  “You’re not under active pursuit, are you?”

  “Not as far as we know,” said Ahle. “As far as we know.”

  “There was a fight. Someone shot down an airship that lifted from one of the warehouses. Is that what you were involved with?”

  “No, it was a whole different major incident,” said Perry.

  Nolan shrugged.

  “This can be a violent city. You see the stevodores don’t give a damn.”

  “They’re going to give a damn if bullets start flying around them,” said Perry.

  “No, they’ll hit the deck, wait for the fight to end, and finish the job. At least if they want to get paid.”

  “We’ll be on the bridge,” Ahle told him. “Lift as soon as you can. He’s right to be nervous.”

  On the bridge, Nolan joined them a moment later.

  “Sorry, but a man’s got to make a profit,” he said. “Cargo of frozen crawfish. I was lucky to get it. We’ll be stopping briefly at Dodge to refuel, if you want to get a signal off from there. But a straight run to Denver, after that.”

  “Not waiting for any convoys, I hope,” said Perry.

  “Convoy fees are a bit above my price range,” Nolan said. “We kind of just hope to get lucky with the pirates.”

  “Like that’s worked,” said the balance woman in the dress.

  “It’s worked so far.”

  “Only barely.”

  “Ah, but it’s worked! Mind, with a new ship like this – prettier, more capacity, although better in the way of self-defence as well, I will grant, thank you Mr. Vice-Commodore – we might look a bit more tempting to `em.”

  “We try to avoid the independents,” said Ahle. “It’s not so profitable. We don’t have much use for crawfish.”

  “And we count on that, too,” Nolan agreed. “The Code keeps things going. Can always buy the ship back, if we have to.” A pause. “Although I’d rather not. Mr. Vice-Commodore, are we expecting any particular trouble?”

  “None that I know of,” said Perry. “Although the thieves who stole 4-106 will probably be defending it. Did you hire more men here as I asked you to?”

  “Oh yes. And I guess there’ll be a recovery fee for this big warship of yours, I hope?”

  “We won’t let an honest trader lose money on Imperial service,” said Perry.

  “Or a not-so-honest trader, I gather,” Ahle added, grinning.

  “Honesty is an underrated virtue,” said Perry. “Nolan, I gather you’ve had some shady behavior in the past, but that’s the past. You’ll do better for yourself as an honest man. Consider it a favor asked.”

  “Oh, I’m sure I will,” said Nolan. “But it takes resources to be an honest man in these times.”

  “I killed a man,” Ferrer was muttering when he met Marko and the others at the passenger terminal of an airship line. “I killed a man.”

  Marko clapped him proudly on the shoulder.

  “The first of many, my friend! Isn’t it fun?”

  Ferrer restrained a retch. He was sick with himself and disgusted with the operation, but he had the feeling that saying so would go over badly. What had he gotten himself into?

  The state had to go, the state was bad, but killing people?

  “Not so much,” he muttered. Thinking of the farm he was going to buy, and his nice little workshop in the basement. When this was over… and no more killing people. That was for damn sure. He’d have done his part.

  Rienzi was working on his gun with a small blade, carving three more notches into the handle. Solidifying them.

  “It’s cheating if you didn’t kill them with that particular weapon,” said McIlhan. “Just so you know.”

  “Dead is dead. I killed them, didn’t I? And this makes seven.”

  “You killed `em,” said Marko. “That’s what counts. Lives ended, threads cut sharply off.”

  “So what’s next?” asked Ferrer.

  “Back to Texas,” Marko said. “Awaiting orders.”

  The Red Wasp II flew over bayous and then plains, through the night and then the sunrise. The wind was coming from the southeast and their engines were at full power; they were making good speed.

  Perry was apprehensive about pirates, but they were overcrewed; Nolan had hired another nine men, acquaintances and referrals who he trusted. He’d also made a point of arming his new ship; the proceeds from Perry’s action had been enough to also afford a pressure-gun and a pair of three-inch rocket launchers, enough – Ahle had agreed – to dissuade a lot of pirates. Nothing materialized anyway, and they touched down in Dodge late in the afternoon.

  “You’d better stay in the airship when we refuel,” said Nolan. “Last I was here, those wanted posters for you were everywhere.”

  “They don’t check the ships themselves?” asked Perry. Despite fears for his own safety, a bit dismayed. No wonder so many fugitives and criminals could travel freely!

  “Too manpower-heavy,” said Ahle. “You saw how they try in the South, where they have the mercenaries in the jackboots. Feds can’t do it everywhere and there’s not enough Imperials.”

  That, Perry knew. His men had been known to do spot-checks of ships here and there, usually operating from tips that must, in hindsight, have come through Fleming’s office. He’d always been under the impression that Federals and local authorities did more serious checks, going on board every airship, at least in shady towns.

  He said as much to Ahle, who shook her head.

  “Almost never, and you realize how little your Fed counterparts get paid?”

  “You could bribe them off?”

  “Quite easily.”

  From somewhere she’d gotten a bottle of rum, and was sipping from it as she lay back in one of the bridge’s comfortable leather chairs. She offered the bottle to Perry, who shook his head.

  “You sure? This is good stuff.”

  “I don’t drink on the job.”

  “Technically you’re not on the job right now.”

  Perry thought for a moment. Quite true.

  He extended his hand for the bottle, took a sip. The pirate had been correct – it was excellent rum. He took a longer sip and handed the bottle back.

  For a little while they sat on the bridge, as the sound came of coal being shoveled into the Red Wasp II’s bunkers. They exchanged the bottle a few more times before Perry, feeling a warmth in his stomach and a slight blur in his head, passed it up. Ahle kept sipping.

  “You’re worried, aren’t you?”

  “I’m relieved,” said Ahle. “We just have to get your ship back and my officers are safe. And along the way, can we kill the bastards who murdered my crew?”

  “I think Fleming would write you a bonus check for getting that Marko guy.”

  “You said Nate Nolan’s in town,” Rafferty asked his man at the Dodge airship park. It was Friday, after all, and he had a sixty-hour pass; he’d
already started drinking, was a bit tipsy. The telegram had come to him, via the specialists’ mess, a couple of hours ago.

  “Maybe he is,” said the clerk. Ran a thumb across his palm. “You owe me for that telegram, too.”

  Rafferty gave him a buck. The clerk was silent. Slightly annoyed, Rafferty peeled off another dollar and, after a pause, a third.

  “Port 43-A,” said the clerk.

  “Give me a sip of that shit,” Rafferty said to Duckworth.

  Duckworth handed over one of the flasks he was carrying. Rafferty took a long drag on the whisky then turned back to the clerk.

  “Thanks.”

  “Why are we doing this again?”, Duckworth asked as the two began the long trek – looked to be about a mile – to 43-A, which was one of the further-out ports from the entrance.

  “Because guys like Nolan hear things. Duh.”

  “Why do you give a shit about the Vice anyway? You just blew a day’s pay on that damn clerk so you could maybe hear something.”

  “Not your money,” said Rafferty. He drank again from the flask and handed it back to Duckworth. “Besides, what else’m I gonna do with it – gamble it away?”

  “Vidkowski would say to put it into the five-percenters and save for retirement.”

  Rafferty laughed.

  “They pay us so we can spend it. Come on, let’s go see this guy.”

  “Why d’you give a shit about the Vice anyway?” Duckworth repeated as they walked.

  “Because he’s got into some action. High drama. Ian Fleming stuff. And I want to know what’s going on. I bet you there’s some covert shit going on.”

  “Richardson learns we’re here looking for word on him,” Duckworth said, “she’s going to rip us both down to `shipman Third.”

  Rafferty shrugged.

  “I been busted down before. So have you. Don’t like it, go home.”

  Presently, they reached the port marked 43-A. It housed a larger and much nicer airship than the Red Wasp Rafferty had ridden on, and for a moment Rafferty wondered if the clerk had been mistaken. But the legend ‘Red Wasp II’ was clearly marked in foot-high, red letters near the front of the clean grey gondola. A refueling truck on rails was parked further down the ship, port fuellers busily shoveling coal in. Nobody else seemed to be around.

  “Check the bridge first,” said Rafferty, because it was closest.

  “Oi!” came a voice. “ `Ail the bridge an’ all! Captain Nolan?”

  Perry recognized that voice from somewhere. They were in Dodge. He’d known people in Dodge…

  Yeah, and there were wanted posters of him in Dodge.

  “I think he’s supervising the fueling,” he called back.

  A second later, a man appeared in the doorway. Tall and lean, with messy brown hair, in Air Service uniform and—

  “Vice?” demanded Specialist Third Rafferty. “Vice Perry?”

  “Specialist Rafferty?” demanded Perry. A chill going down his spine.

  Anyone from Hugoton would know about the reward. To get busted this close to success? This damn close?

  No. They’d finish refueling soon. Lift. Retrieve 4-106 before a pursuit could be organized. Richardson and Fleming would delay it, make sure resources weren’t available.

  But Rafferty – and the man with him, Senior Airshipman Duckworth – did not look like bounty hunters who’d scored. Rafferty was grinning broadly – unless Perry was wrong, he was at least slightly drunk. Duckworth looked more sober, and there was an uncertain smile on his face.

  “Vice, we was here to look for information about you. Didn’t expect to score a face-to-face with you and the pirate our very selves!”

  “Have a drink,” said Ahle, offering Rafferty the bottle of rum.

  “Don’t mind if I do, cap’n,” said Rafferty with a grin. He took a long swig from the bottle and handed it to Duckworth, who took a much shorter swig and stepped over to hand it back to Ahle.

  Rafferty, still grinning like an idiot who’d scored, took one of the comfortable bridge chairs and planted himself in it. Duckworth was still standing in the entrance, looking uneasy.

  “Come in, since you’re here,” said Perry. In the doorway, Duckworth could run and cause trouble. Seated – Perry didn’t know if he could draw a gun on one of his own men, but…

  I will get 4-106 back. This close, I am not going to fail.

  Duckworth sat down.

  “So where you been, Vice? And what’re you doing sticking your head into the lion’s mouth in Dodge, sir?” Rafferty asked.

  He pulled a flask, took a drink, offered it to Ahle. The pirate captain took it, had a drink, handed back the flask and again offered her rum bottle.

  “We’ve been all over the place,” said Ahle. “Good of you two to show up. We could use men.”

  “Use men for what?” Rafferty asked eagerly. He took another swig from the rum.

  “We only got sixty-hour passes,” said Duckworth.

  “You can stay. I’m going with the Vice wherever he says. Told you it was a covert operation, mate!”

  “We might be back within sixty hours,” said Perry. Or… well, what else was he going to do with these two?

  Draw on them?

  “Sixty, seventy, eighty,” said Rafferty. “Worst they’ll do is chuck you in the brig.”

  “Rip your props off,” said Duckworth.

  “Got `em back before, don’t I? Vice, what’s it you want to have us do?”

  “We’re going into the mountains,” said Ahle. “Simple cutting-out operation. Take 4-106 back to Hugoton. Vice clears his name, I get—what I’ve been promised—and trust me, your commanders are going to look the other way at your coming back a bit late if it’s in the missing airship.”

  “You got a lead on 4-106?” Rafferty asked. “That was the whole of why you ran, right? To track her down. Nobody steals a Denny-Neuvoldt without being pursued!”

  “When we finish refueling,” said Perry, “we’re going straight there. And we really could use a couple more competent airshipmen to handle the trip back. You coming?”

  “Oh, fuck yeah, sir. Coming with you all the way.”

  “Duckworth?”

  “It’ll be a lark,” Rafferty insisted.

  “You’re a fugitive, sir,” said Duckworth uneasily.

  “He’s one in name only,” said Ahle. “You’ll be up for a promotion or something if you help. We’re coming straight back to Hugoton. And…”

  “We ain’t got a choice in the deal,” Rafferty clarified.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t think you have,” said Ahle. “May as well make the best of it, Airshipman – Duckworth?”

  “If you – if you really insist, Vice,” said Duckworth. “But sir, you swear this is really legitimate Imperial business, sir? With respect, sir – I may cross the line now and again on minor disciplinary stuff, but I’m no damn traitor. Sir. Without meaning, sir, to imply, sir, that you might be. Sir.”

  “Of course he’s no damn traitor, Ducks!” said Rafferty. “Any more than you or I am. He’s an adventurer, is all, and now we get to be!”

  “Now you get to be,” Duckworth muttered.

  Nolan came back to the bridge.

  “You have guests?” he asked.

  “Two of my old crew,” said Perry. “Looking for you, apparently, and found us.”

  “Still a price on your head, ain’t there?” asked Nolan uneasily.

  “They’re coming along, now,” said Ahle.

  Rafferty grinned. “Fuck yeah.”

  “When do we lift?” Perry asked.

  “I was going to say: Fueling’s done and that ice won’t keep forever. Now, unless you have any objections.”

  “Now,” said Perry, “would be good.’

  “Jessie,” said Nolan to one of his crew, “find these two a cabin for the night. Vice-Commodore, sir, we ought to be in Denver by mid-morning. Ought to find a few more men there. And from there, to take back your ship.”

  “To take bac
k my ship,” said Perry. “Ahle, hand me that rum. I think we can all drink to that.”

  “You get a good price for those crawfish?” Perry asked Nolan as they took off from Denver, a day later and with eight more men aboard.

  “Prearranged contract,” Nolan said exuberantly. “Man, I’m not used to those! Paid for the trip and then some – and then some more! Guaranteed, if we made it on time, which we did.”

  “So now we head off to 4-106,” Perry said. “Right?”

  “We don’t have any other cargo; just your men and your mission. Your Governor is going to make it worth my while to help out, right? I’ve been promising these guys work and all, y’know…”

  “I don’t know how these things are arranged,” said Perry, “but…”

  “I do,” said Ahle. “The men get paid fighting wages from lift, whether it was in New Orleans or here. A bonus if there is actually fighting, depending on how they individually acquit themselves, to be paid alongside another bonus on successful completion of the mission. Perry’s boss in Hugoton will assure you of that.”

  “Fighting wages is what I’ve promised them,” Nolan agreed. “Now, what about me? A favor is a favor and I owe you one, but I’m running an empty ship from this point and that’s going to cost me.”

  “Fle– my boss will reimburse you for your costs plus a reasonable percentage,” said Perry. “You have my word on that, as an Imperial officer.”

  “If you’re still one, but you came across as a right gent that first time around,” said Nolan. He extended a hand, which Perry shook. “We’ve got a deal, not as though there wasn’t one before. Now let’s go get your ship.”

  Perry allowed himself another vision of triumphant return: Sailing into Hugoton – escorted, of course – with 4-106, touching down with his ship back and his honor restored. It was a beautiful sight and one he’d been sustaining himself on for over a week now.