A Matter of Honor (Privateer Tales Book 9)

by Jamie McFarlane

  "There will be many demands for our time and materials in the days ahead," Nurit said.

  "But still, we can't be slaves to the past," he said "The Ophir will continue to attack, as they have for the last four centuries. Our technology is failing and we have to get smarter."

  "You sound so much like your father. He would be proud of you," Nurit said.

  They arrived at the smithy to find Eliora standing in the shade. Amon and Eliora hadn't talked much since their fateful trip and Amon suspected she'd been avoiding him. Even now, she looked at the ground instead of making eye contact.

  "Eliora, welcome. How may we be of assistance?" Nurit asked.

  "Captain Gian asked me to check on the progress of the gate, ammunition and well… he sent a list," she said, clearly uncomfortable.

  "Ah, yes, the first of many such visits. You may report to the Captain that we will pour our first cast at the end of tenday and that barring any setbacks, polished hinges will be ready for installation by sixday next. Our engineer will coordinate the installation. I've already shared this schedule with Master Merik," Nurit said, unperturbed.

  Eliora held out a notebook filled with several pages of writing. Nurit took the list and reviewed it.

  "Inform Captain Gian that his request was delivered and that I'd like to speak with him at his earliest convenience," Nurit said.

  As they were talking, three people approached. Amon recognized them from school and knew they currently worked as laborers on the farms.

  "I'll finish with Eliora. It looks like our help has arrived. Would you get them started?" Nurit asked.

  "Yes, ma'am," Amon said respectfully. "Eliora, it was good to see you."

  Eliora raised her head but didn't meet his eyes. "You too, Amon."

  Amon led the crew away from Nurit and Eliora. Casting iron was a labor intensive process and without additional strong backs, the process would take much longer.

  "Greetings. Thank you for coming," he said.

  "Not like we were given a choice," Barel complained.

  Physically larger than Amon, Barel was an intimidating figure. Amon and Barel had played against each other in net ball and Amon knew him to be slow and dull-witted. In a pure competition of strength, it was likely a tossup, however.

  "Stop whining, Barel. At least we're not scooping porcine dung." The young woman who spoke was named Assa. Her deeply tanned shoulders were cut with deep muscles from years of labor.

  "We'll work over here," Amon said. He led the group to depleted piles of sand and coal. "The first task is to sift two more tons of sand. Barel and Assa, you've helped with that before, right?"

  "Yes. Remind me which sifter to use?" Assa asked.

  "There are two fine sifters, either of them work well. Rivi, you and I will grind coal and clay," Amon said.

  It was well after dark when they'd finished and were sitting quietly at a thick-slabbed wooden table. Hanging electric lanterns illuminated the smithy's courtyard. They ate a simple meal of thick bread, cheese, and meat with a red berry light ale to help relax their tired muscles.

  "Will you need us tomorrow?" Assa asked.

  "We mix the casting sand tomorrow and will need you until threeday," Nurit replied.

  "We're here for as long as you need, Master Nurit," the young woman said.

  "And when we get back, we'll have that much more to do," Barel complained.

  Rivi scowled at the other man. "It beats the Ophies walking through our front gates."

  "Please be ready to work by sunrise tomorrow," Nurit said. "We have another long day ahead."

  After Assa, Barel and Rivi left, Amon looked to Nurit. At forty-five stans, she was one of the strongest people in town. She'd taken over for Amon's father, Nadav, as the town's blacksmith after Ophies had killed him in a raid eighteen stans ago.

  "What did you talk with Gian about?" he asked. When the captain of the protectors had been there earlier, he'd heard definite sounds of arguing.

  "An expedition to gather hematite. The sample you brought back is loaded with iron. Ozzie's death will not be in vain. If there's as much rock as you say, it will last for decades," she said.

  "Will Gian help?"

  "You're to meet the expedition at the gates shortly after first light. You may take one of the laborers with you. I'd like you to bring back thirty tonnes," she said.

  "We'll need more than the mule to haul that."

  "I've arranged for four heavy wagons, carrying eight tonnes each. Please be careful not to overload them."

  Amon nodded, considering the logistics. "Several mules would be helpful. The heavy wagons will be unable to traverse the path we took, though I didn't see a better route."

  "How many do you need?" she asked.

  "Three," he responded. "The last two hundred meters are too rocky for the wagons."

  She smiled proudly at her son. "I'll take care of it."

  The next morning Amon was awake well before dawn. He stopped at the settlement's machine shop and picked up an additional reciprocating pick, hydraulic lifters, and other tools he believed he'd need. It was his first time leading such a large expedition and he wanted to make sure it went well.

  After picking up a groggy Barel, they drove back just as morning light was showing on the horizon. Amon saw what he'd only heard rumors of the night before. The Ophies had trashed the fields and most of the crops looked like they'd been lost.

  "It's not as bad as it looks," Barel said.

  "Oh?" Amon asked.

  "The row crops took a beating, but the tubers will be fine. Sure, you'll complain about lack of variety, but we won't starve," he said. "We've already started replanting, but of course, the blacksmith takes our workers so it's not going very fast."

  "Did you have enough warning when they came?" Amon asked, letting the other man's complaints fade away.

  "People who were working near the walls were luckiest. The people closer to the forest weren't so lucky. Mostly, it was old people who didn't make it," he said.

  Amon nodded at the story he'd heard his entire life. Ophies attacked and killed the unlucky who became their targets. Yishuv's crumbling defenses were the only thing that had allowed its inhabitants to survive the last four centuries.

  As they arrived at the main gate, Amon wasn't surprised to see that a thick tree trunk had been raised up and placed across the opening in the wall, above where the gates belonged. Block and tackle hung from the trunk, waiting for the hinges to be repaired so the gates could be lifted back into place.

  Captain Gian was talking to a group of ten people dressed in protector uniforms, crossbows hanging from their belts. Eliora saw Amon approach. He tried to catch her eye, but she turned away.

  Gian waved him over.

  "Is this all the equipment you'll need?"

  Three large wagons had already arrived, pulled by tractors brought in from the fields. So far, there was only one mule.

  "I was hoping for four wagons and another mule with a cart," Amon said. "The drivers will have to help load the material."

  "The mule is on its way, but these are the only available wagons. I'll use one to carry troops. As for help moving material, the drivers understand that expectation," he said.

  "Two trips, then?" Amon asked.

  "If we have time."

  Amon wanted to argue, but knew better. As one of the most powerful men in the city, Captain Gian's direction was to be followed.

  "Okay."

  A few minutes later, the final mule arrived, filled with water and supplies.

  "You're in the lead and Eliora will ride with you. Listen to her instructions and we'll be right behind you. Don't let us get too spread out and make sure you can see the rear tractor at all times. Understood?"

  "Yes," Amon acknowledged.

  "Let's get underway, then." Gian looked to Pele, his third in command and the only protector armed with one of the settlement's two remaining blaster rifles.

  "Load 'em up," Pele said loudly enough for the entire
group to hear. He accentuated his words by sticking his index finger up and waving it in a circle.

  Barel started to crawl into the back of the mule, expecting that Eliora would force him into the rear seat via seniority.

  "Stay put," she said. "I'll take the back."

  Amon pulled forward onto the main trail leading up the mountain. It was still early and light hadn't made it onto the path yet. He checked his mirror and found he couldn't see past Eliora, who was standing vigilant in the center of the mule.

  "I can't see behind me," Amon said.

  "Just keep going, they're coming," she said. "Captain is motioning for us to speed up."

  Amon accelerated. And so it went. Without Ozzie driving, the trip to the edge of the forest took more than an hour. Having driven the mountain path only once before, Amon was concerned he'd forget the route, but his concern was for naught.

  "Hold up," Eliora said as they pulled even with the boulder where the large Ophie had jumped into their mule. Its desiccated body lay close to where it had fallen.

  Eliora walked back to the Captain's mule and spoke to him a moment, gesturing to the fallen enemy.

  "What was that all about?" Amon asked.

  "I'm under review for the attack. Captain wanted to know where we'd been jumped," she said.

  "You mean, where you saved our lives?"

  "I didn't save Ozzie," she said.

  "Nobody could have. Look Eliora, we must have these materials if we are to survive. Ozzie understood the risks. We all do. You have to stop beating yourself up."

  Eliora didn't respond and Amon didn't want to push it any further, so he continued forward. They finally arrived at the bottom of the long sluff. The wagons had come as far as they could. He got out of the mule, walking back to the Captain, Eliora tight on his heels.

  "The tractors should turn around here. The ore is just up this draw," Amon explained. "We'll take the mules up and get started."

  "How far up?"

  "Two hundred meters." Amon pointed up. "That orange you see is rust and where we're going."

  "Got it. I'll send two with you and keep the bulk of the security force down here. Eliora, if you get in trouble, fall back to this position," Gian said. "I want a protector in every mule that's moving and one on the ground at all times. One mule will be sitting at all times at the dig site. You have the most familiarity with the site so I want you organizing at the top."

  "Yes, sir."

  Gian motioned to Pele with a short series of hand signals. Two protectors jumped from a wagon and clambered into the awaiting mules. A few minutes later, they were headed up the twisty route that led to the fissure.

  "Barel, how are you with a reciprocating pick?" Amon asked the farmer.

  "Never used one," Barel replied. Amon doubted this to be true, but wasn't about to argue.

  "Then you are responsible for loading the carts. These mules are only good for three hundred kilograms, so don't overload them," Amon said.

  "No… really?" Barel retorted.

  If he was the only one using a pick, it was going to be a long day. At least Gian had broken the load into two trips. They'd taken two hours to arrive and it was past 0830 in the morning, which didn't feel too bad. The drive had made him sleepy, although, he knew the pick would wake him up.

  A loud clattering filled the valley when Amon set the pick against the base of a four meter tall iron pillar. It stood tall, almost straight up, the weather having stripped away much of the surrounding loose rock to ground level. At a meter and a half across, the base unevenly narrowed at the top to a meter wide, orange and red rust stains running down the sides.

  He worked for twenty minutes while Barel looked on. Eliora and the two protectors had separated and were scouting the nearby hillside when the pillar finally gave way, crashing and sliding down the hill for several meters.

  "Move the mules over here," Amon directed, getting a quick drink.

  "All of 'em?" Barel asked.

  "Yes. We'll be lucky if we can take it all," Amon said. "You're looking at twenty tonnes, give or take. Notice how it didn't fracture a bit when I toppled it? That thing is solid."

  Amon could feel the day slipping away from him. He wished they had bigger equipment, so they could more efficiently harvest the material.

  After another forty long minutes, he'd peeled enough slivers off so the first mule could get underway. He'd shaped his initial cuts to make future cuts more efficient and soon had both of the other mules loaded and moving. At his current rate, they'd have the large wagons loaded by 1500, the chances of a second trip quickly disappearing.

  "Hold it."

  Eliora caught his eye. She was holding up her hand and stalking up the side of the hill. It had been her third interruption of the day. Each time, she had only found a small mountain reptile flitting around. He could hardly blame her for her vigilance, however.

  Amon was distracted by one of the returning mules and turned away. When he looked back, he saw Eliora drop to her knee, firing up into an Ophie that leapt from its hidden position on the side of the mountain.

  Her crossbow bolts sunk into the beast's chest, but did nothing to stop his advance. A second Ophie jumped from cover, running toward the returning mule.

  "Go!" Amon shouted, looking at the mule's driver.

  Amon's directive spurred the frozen driver into action and inspired Barel to jump into the cart the mule pulled. The protector, Alona, who'd accompanied the returning mule fired ineffectively as the vehicle lurched and turned.

  Eliora dropped her crossbow, pulling out her long iron hunting knife. She'd narrowly dodged the Ophie's uncontrolled charge down the mountain and now stood, facing the sage green reptile. Amon couldn't see any possible way for her to escape the inevitable. While she was considerably more nimble, the Ophie had sufficient speed to run her down. The only chance of survival was to engage the Ophie and attempt to disable it by striking one of its weak spots - under the chin, arms or groin. Unfortunately, Ophies were well aware of this strategy.

  "Go! Get out of here," Eliora yelled at him.

  It made sense. The Ophie would kill her, then it would kill him. Running was also something Amon was not prepared to do. He would not watch another of his friends die on the side of this mountain. Instead, he picked up a fist-sized chunk of hematite. Hefting it in his hands, he judged its weight to be two kilograms. For most people, it would have been too heavy to throw with any force, but Amon was not most people - he possessed considerable strength from shaping iron day in and day out.

  His first throw sailed over the beast's head. He chastised himself as he grabbed two more pieces from the ground. He'd been too excited and hadn't controlled his adrenaline. He quickly reoriented and watched as Eliora once again dodged a swipe. In the same move, she dug her knife into its thick, scaly leg. A dark liquid oozed out of the cut but didn't seem to affect the Ophie's attack.

  Amon advanced and threw the next chunk, clipping the beast on the side of the head. It howled in pain, momentarily dazed. Bringing a webbed hand up to the wound, it spun toward Amon.

  Amon didn't waste any time and threw the next piece into the beast's chest. The hit was more solid, but the rock glanced off, falling to the ground. Insult to injury caused the reptilian enemy to forget about Eliora and charge Amon, club raised, screaming in rage.

  Not having thought past throwing rocks, Amon found himself at a loss. He couldn't outrun the Ophie, but grappling didn't make sense either. It took everything he had not to run, but Amon planted his feet and stared down the charging beast. At the last moment, he jumped to the side, hoping to roll out of its way. He managed to avoid the club, but his legs became entangled with the charging Ophie's limbs. A loud crack and pain in his calf occurred as they tumbled to the ground.

  Eliora had but a single chance and lunged toward the tangled bodies. A fourth known vulnerability of the Ophie was inaccessible during a frontal attack. With the Ophie on the ground, its Achilles tendon, which closely resembled a human's, h
ad little natural protection. In a single fluid movement she drew her razor sharp knife across the back of the creature's legs.

  The Ophie turned sharply, howling in pain, reaching for her in a single, uncharacteristically quick swipe. It caught Eliora's heel and pulled her from her feet. She scrabbled back, trying to escape the howling beast's long grasp, but to no avail.

  Pain shot through Amon's body as he tried to move his leg. The Ophie's screams and single-minded assault on Eliora galvanized him into action. He looked around frantically for a weapon and chose a single, iron-laden rock. It was said that an Ophie's head was as armored as its chest, but Amon was an iron shaper and knew little that could withstand the heavy blow of his hammers. Balanced on a single leg, he threw himself onto the Ophie's back and with all his might, smashed its skull with his improvised hammer. He heard a sickening crunch as the rock completed the grisly deed.

  AUDITION

  Planet Curie, Tipperary Star System

  "Thank you, Jonathan. I'll take it from here," the teenager said, not looking up from the project in front of him.

  "Certainly, Master Anino," Jonathan answered.

  Philippe Anino set his tools down, jumped from his stool and flew directly at us. Initially, I thought he was flying with arc-jets, but there were no blue tell-tale traces common to arc-jet technology. His acceleration was faster than anything I was familiar with. He stopped neatly in front of us, hovering at eye level.

  "I thought you'd all be bigger," he said and gave Marny an appraising look. "Well, all but Bertrand, that is. Is it okay if I use your last names? Of course it is, you buck formality."

  I smiled. "Last names are fine. What do you like to be called and what in the known universe are you flying? They're like arc-jets on narcs."

  "Call me Anino. And, I just knew you'd like 'em, Hoffen. You think if you had some you could catch me?"

  "I could," Tabby said stepping into the boy's personal space.

  "Oh, man, three dimensional scans don't do you justice, Masters. I mean… Crap, that didn't sound perverted in my head," he said.