Sigurd nodded.
“Slater,” she said, pointing to the chair where Slater sat. “She’s the pilot.”
“Pilot?” Sigurd asked.
“Driver,” Reyes said. “She flies the ship.”
Sigurd still didn’t seem to understand, so Reyes let it drop. “Hurt,” she said, pointing to her head.
Sigurd nodded. He pointed to the gun in her right hand and spoke a question. When she didn’t answer, he made a motion like drawing a sword. He pointed at the gun again, and then pointed to O’Brien and Slater.
“Yes,” Reyes said. “We have more weapons. Five guns.” She held up the fingers of her left hand and then raised the gun in her right. “Five. Guns.” In addition to the ones she and Gabe carried, there were three pistols in the arms locker. Exploratory missions weren’t exactly well-stocked with weapons by IDL standards, but they’d brought every weapon from Andrea Luhman on the lander. The pistols were probably older than the IDL.
“Five guns,” Sigurd replied.
Reyes nodded. “Seen enough?” She pointed to the exit.
Sigurd reluctantly left the craft. “O’Brien and Slater,” he said. “Magan nāh feohtan.” He pointed to Reyes’s pistol.
“No, they cannot fight,” Reyes said.
“Guns,” Sigurd said. He pointed to himself and then gestured in the direction of the others.
Reyes turned to Gabe. “What do you think? Give guns to three men?”
“You want to leave O’Brien and Slater unarmed?”
“They’re in no shape to fight. If we’re going to trust these guys to help us, we’re better off with guns in the hands of people who can use them.”
Gabe sighed. “I can’t believe we’re even talking about this. These men have zero experience with firearms. Even assuming we can trust them, they’d be as likely to shoot one of us as hit one of Harald’s men.” He turned to Sigurd and pointed to the sun. His finger traced an arc toward the west and then raised the barrel of his gun as if targeting an enemy. “How long?”
Sigurd pointed to the sun as Gabe had, and then traced an arc to the horizon. “Niht,” said Sigurd. “Betwix middeneaht and dægrǣd.”
“Sounds like he expects them to arrive between midnight and dawn,” Gabe said.
“We’ve got several hours then,” Reyes said. “You could train three men to shoot by then, couldn’t you?”
“Depends. How much ammo are you willing to waste?”
“If we don’t survive the next twenty-four hours, it isn’t going to matter how much ammo we have left.”
“All right,” Gabe said. “I’ll see what I can do.” He turned to Sigurd. “Three men,” he said, holding up three fingers. “Three guns.”
“Three men, three guns,” Sigurd repeated.
Gabe touched his chest and pointed to the lander. “Guns.” He pointed to Sigurd and gestured toward where the group of men still waited. “Men.”
Sigurd nodded. He picked up his sword and began to walk away. But then he stopped and turned, pointing to the lander. “O’Brien and Slater. Hurt.” He pointed to the southwest and spoke a phrase that meant nothing to them.
Reyes shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
Sigurd pointed to the sun. He traced the arc to the west again and then said, “Niht. Cald.” He hugged his shoulders and shivered. Then he pointed to the southwest again. A peaceful look came over his face and he let his head fall to the side as if falling asleep.
“He thinks we should take O’Brien and Slater to his village,” Gabe said.
“What do you think?”
“I think he’s got a point. They can’t fight. If we have to run—”
“If we have to run, we’re dead. We don’t leave the lander, no matter what.”
“Still, it’s going to be cold. We’ve got no heat. Can’t very well start a fire in the lander. And they’re just going to be in the way if you’re trying to work on it. Like you said, if we’re going to trust these people, there’s no point in doing it halfway. Use the resources we have. Get non-essential personnel out of the line of fire.”
Reyes thought it over. “All right,” she said at last.
“The problem is, I’m not sure we have time.” Gabe turned back to Sigurd. “Time,” he said, pointing to the sun again. “We need to be here when Harald’s men return.”
Sigurd nodded. He turned and ran to the tail of the lander. Cupping his hands over his mouth, he shouted something to one of the men. He turned and spoke a few more words they didn’t catch. Then he jerked his thumb away from the lander and said, “O’Brien and Slater. Ūt.”
“Got it,” Gabe said. He turned back to Reyes. “I think he’s sending one of his men to go after the group that just left, to get them to take our wounded back to their village. Let’s see if we can rig up a stretcher for O’Brien. Maybe one for Slater too.”
Chapter Sixteen
With the help of Sigurd and Arnulf, Gabe and Reyes rigged two stretchers using some of the loose heat shield panels and four poles the Norsemen cut from saplings at the edge of the forest, securing them with some carbon fiber cord from the lander’s supplies. Gabe smiled as the Norsemen marveled at the cord, amazed that the foreigners would use it for such a mundane purpose. Slater protested that she didn’t need the stretcher, but Reyes insisted. Gabe agreed: the more rest she got, the sooner she’d be back at a hundred percent.
By the time they were done, the men who had started back to the village had returned. Sigurd explained the situation to them, and they agreed to carry the two injured foreigners back to the village. Meanwhile, the men who had chosen to stay and fight were busy with other work. Their first task had been to drag the three corpses into the woods; now they were busy cutting more saplings down with their axes. Two piles of logs had already begun to grow, one at the front of the lander and one near the tail. The man called Arnulf had taken charge of constructing a defensive perimeter around the lander.
“And I don’t get any say about being sent to a primitive Viking village?” Slater asked, peering out of the lander. She squinted as if the bright light hurt her eyes.
“None,” Reyes said. “Sorry, Slater, you’re no good to us in your present condition. Get some rest and we’ll regroup after this scuffle is over.” Reyes didn’t want to say it, but Slater wouldn’t be of much use even if she weren’t injured. She had no hand-to-hand training and Reyes doubted she’d ever fired a gun.
“Scuffle, huh?” Slater said, eyeing Sigurd and the other Norsemen standing outside the lander. “That sounds optimistic.”
“They’re bronze age people,” Reyes said. “They don’t even have forged steel weapons. I’ll take my chances on Gabe and twenty-third century tactics. Not to mention the railgun.”
“You’re gonna make me blush, Reyes,” Gabe said. “Okay, Slater, get over here.” Sigurd motioned for the two Norsemen standing by to take their positions at the stretcher. Slater complied, stepping lightly though the snow, with Reyes guiding her by the arm. She lay down on the stretcher and the two men hoisted her to waist level. The man in front was Yngvi, the one Gabe had thought looked so much like Sigurd. The other one was called Erland.
While Reyes spread a blanket over Slater, Gabe looked up to see O’Brien outside the hatch, leaning against the side of the ship. Reyes had removed the top of his flight suit and wrapped his ribcage with a thick bandage. A blanket was draped over his shoulders.
“Whoa,” Gabe said, moving toward him. “Take it easy, man.”
“I… ugh… suppose that other stretcher is for me?” O’Brien asked, his face contorted with pain.
“Latest model,” Gabe said. “Come on, I’ll help you over.” He took O’Brien’s arm and helped him walk to the stretcher. O’Brien lay down, wincing and biting his lip.
As Gabe tended to O’Brien, the man Sigurd had called Jannik came around the tail of the lander, looking irritated. He barked a question at Sigurd. Sigurd said something to Jannik in a chiding tone, and Jannik replied t
ersely. Then Jannik turned and walked away, disappearing around the tail of the lander.
“What’s up with that guy?” Gabe asked, looking at Sigurd.
Sigurd seemed to get the gist of the question. He motioned in Jannik’s direction, shaking his head and muttered a string of harsh syllables. Gabe didn’t understand the words, but the tone was clear. Clearly there was no love lost between Sigurd and Jannik.
The two men assigned to O’Brien lifted their stretcher. The one in front, whose name was Vilmar, nodded his head toward Sigurd and spoke briefly.
Sigurd nodded back and spoke a brief farewell.
“Thank you,” Reyes said, putting her hand on the shoulder of the man at O’Brien’s feet. She looked at the others. “All of you. Thank you.”
Sigurd spoke a brief phrase to the men. They nodded toward Reyes. The man named Vilmar spoke a few words to Reyes, and Reyes smiled back. She touched O’Brien’s shoulder.
“Get some rest,” Reyes said. “We’ll regroup soon.”
“Comm range is eighty klicks over flat ground,” Gabe said. “Stay in contact. Let us know when you get there.”
O’Brien nodded and smiled weakly. Just getting from the lander to the stretcher had taken a lot out of him.
The two men carrying Slater walked away through the snow. The two with O’Brien followed close behind.
“You sure we can trust these guys?” Reyes asked.
“Oh, you are not putting this on me,” Gabe replied, watching the group disappear around the tail of the lander.
“It was your idea to get them out of here.”
“It was Sigurd’s idea. And it was your idea to trust Sigurd.”
Sigurd’s eyebrow arched as Gabe said his name. Gabe smiled in an attempt to reassure him.
“I’m still blaming you if this goes horribly wrong,” Reyes muttered.
“I think we passed ‘horribly wrong’ when we crash-landed in fucking Norway during the Middle Ages.”
Sigurd gave a whistle and began walking toward two men carrying a log to the pile at the rear of the lander. The men looked up and Sigurd waved at them to come over.
“How far do you think it is?” Reyes asked.
“To the village? Gotta be ten klicks at least. Sigurd said they left there around mid-morning.”
“Five people are going to carry two of ours ten klicks across rough terrain?” Reyes asked.
“Make it four people,” Gabe replied. “That Jannik guy didn’t seem very helpful. You saw those guys, though. They’re tough. That kid can’t be older than seventeen and he looks like he could wrestle a bear.”
Reyes nodded. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t have to wrestle anything for the next few hours.”
The two men Sigurd had summoned approached. They were both lean and tall, and looked to be in their twenties. They stopped in front of Sigurd and Sigurd spoke briefly to them. They nodded. Sigurd turned back to Gabe. “Agnar,” he said, pointing to the young blond man on Gabe’s right. He pointed to the other man. “Brynjarr.” Tall and lean, with thin blond hair, the two looked like brothers.
Gabe spoke his own name and patted his chest. Then he gestured toward Reyes. “Reyes. Jarl. She’s in charge of this catastrophe.”
“Kiss my ass, Gabe,” Reyes murmured.
For a moment, Gabe stared at the newcomers, wondering why Sigurd had introduced them.
“Guns,” Sigurd said, pointing at the gun holstered at Gabe’s hip.
“Oh, our gunmen!” Gabe said, realization suddenly dawning on him.
Sigurd smiled and nodded. “Gunmen.”
Gabe spoke his own name, pointing to his chest. “Hold on.” He held up a hand and ducked into the lander, returning a few moments later with a large plastic box. He set the box on the ground and flipped the lid open. Inside were the other three pistols and several boxes of ammunition. Gabe picked up one of the guns, holding it before him. “Gun,” he said. He nodded to the three men.
“Gun,” they repeated.
“Barrel,” Gabe said, indicating the barrel.
“Barrel.”
This went on for a while, with Gabe identifying the trigger, the sight, the grip, magazines, bullets, and other parts of the guns. Reyes stuck around for the training—whether this was to see what he was teaching the Norsemen or to brush up on her own knowledge Gabe couldn’t say. When the Norsemen had learned the basics, Gabe made sure the safeties were on and then handed a gun to each of them, showing them how to hold them without putting their fingers on the trigger. When he was reasonably certain they weren’t going to kill themselves, he grabbed a belt and holster from the box. He wrapped it around Agnar’s waist and demonstrated how to tighten and secure it, naming the various parts as he did so. Then he took the pistol from Agnar and slipped it into the holster. Agnar’s eyes lit up as he saw how the gun fit snugly in the holster. He grabbed the gun, pulled it out of the holster and pointed it at Reyes, whose eyes lit up in terror.
“No!” Gabe snapped, grabbing the gun barrel and pointing at the ground. He’d already been over this, but Agnar had forgotten the rule in his excitement. He pantomimed aiming a gun at Agnar and shook his head. “No,” he said again. “Nei. Nein. Never.”
“Enemy,” Sigurd said.
Gabe nodded. “Enemy,” he said, pointing his imaginary gun toward the south, where they expected Harald’s men to appear. “Only enemy.”
Agnar and Brynjarr nodded soberly.
Gabe reached into the box and got a gun belt and holster for Sigurd and Brynjarr as well. He took their guns while they figured out how to put them on, then handed the guns back to them. They slid the guns into their holsters. The looked like prehistoric bank robbers.
“Good God,” Gabe said, smiling weakly at them. “What have I done?”
“You’re a born teacher,” Reyes said. “It’s inspiring.”
The three Norsemen regarded them curiously.
“Right,” Gabe said. “We need some targets.” He pointed to Sigurd and said “One.” Then he pointed to Agnar and said “Two.” He pointed to Brynjarr and said, “Three. Then he held up three fingers. “Three.”
Sigurd nodded. “Three,” he said.
Gabe pointed to the stack of logs at the front of the lander. “Three,” he said. He pointed to three points on the ground a few meters away, counting off as he did so. “One, two, three.”
Sigurd nodded, seeming to understand. He said something to the others and began walking toward the pile. Agnar and Brynjarr followed him.
“Good luck,” Reyes said to Gabe, as she turned to head back to the lander.
“You going to oversee the defenses while I’m getting these guys up to speed?”
Reyes stopped, watching as Arnulf barked orders to two men near the tail of the lander. “I think they’ve got this covered.” She looked to Gabe. “Unless you have some suggestions?”
Gabe shook his head. “Looks like they’ve done this before. Given the technological limitations, we’re probably best off trusting the Norsemen’s expertise. I’m hoping we can scare these guys off with the guns before the fighting really gets started, but if they come at us in big enough numbers, it’s going to come down to a melee. I’m going to go out on a limb and figure that our Viking friends can handle themselves in close combat.”
“My thoughts as well,” Reyes said. “I’m going to keep working on the lander. We’re going to need life support working soon. And if we can’t get the data cells back online, we’ll never get out of here.”
Gabe nodded. We’re never getting out of here anyway, he thought. The data cells were the least of their problems. Still, getting life support and the data cells back online were worthwhile tasks—assuming they lived through Harald’s assault. But there really wasn’t much else for Reyes to do.
Reyes walked back to the lander as the three Norsemen approached Gabe, each carrying one of the birch poles. Gabe walked twenty paces away from the lander and pointed to the ground. He dragged his heel in the snow, making a mark. “On
e.” He said. He made a right angle turn to his left and walked three more paces. Dragging his heel again, he said, “Two.” He walked three more paces and did it again. “Three.”
Sigurd spoke briefly to the other men and they nodded, seeming to understand. Each of them walked to one of the marks and set the pole down on the ground. Gabe suspected the ground was too hard to allow hammering the poles into it, but the snow was deep and dense. The Norsemen came to the same conclusion: they hacked into the snow with their axes and then used the axe heads to shovel it aside. Soon they had excavated three holes, about half a meter deep. They placed the poles in the holes and then filled in the impressions with snow, mounding more snow against the base of the poles to give them additional stability. Glancing toward the lander, Gabe saw the other men were doing more-or-less the same thing: Arnulf was having them create a barrier of sharpened spikes pointed outward from the lander. The poles had been cut to about three meters and sharpened at one end with an axe. The bases of the poles were roughly half a meter apart and five meters from the lander, giving the Norsemen room to maneuver behind the barrier. One man dug holes, another gathered and placed the spikes, and a third packed snow around the base. Most of the rest of the men were still busy cutting saplings, stripping them of branches, cutting them to length, sharpening them, and transporting them to the lander.
Gabe regarded the work of the three aspiring gunmen before him. He grabbed one of the poles and tried to shake it. It held firm. He began walking back toward the lander, motioning for the men to follow him. He stopped about twenty meters from the poles. Ideally his gunners would have an effective range of more than twenty meters, but he was going to be happy if these men could put the fear of God into Harald’s men and avoid accidentally shooting their own. If they actually hit a few of the enemy, that would be a bonus.
Gabe was pleasantly surprised by the Norsemen’s marksmanship. Once they got over the shock of the noise and recoil, they were able to hit their targets close to half the time. They had good eyesight and hand-eye coordination, and no bad habits to unlearn. The two younger men were better shots than Sigurd, but even Sigurd hit his tree three shots out of ten.
The Dream of the Iron Dragon Page 16