by P. S. Power
James didn't say much, but waved to them as he left, since, from that point onward, they were officially on duty. Beth had to actually send him on his way, so that he didn't just sit there for hours waiting for their train to come. An hour, if she had the timing down. Well, if the train people weren't late.
As the little white Lorrie left, a few people watched them, some staring with a good bit of fear, though a few of the men were obviously more interested in the fit of their blue trousers than they were in the idea that they might be Westmorlands. She wasn't, but her clothing had been designed to nearly match Beth's. It was better tailored however, since Ethyl had a hand in that part. She wouldn't let anyone wear something that wasn't perfectly fit to their form, after all. Not for the first time, Gwen was rather pleased that neither she nor Katherine had been prone to being overweight. Being lumpy and shown off at the same time would just be embarrassing for her.
Though, come to think of it, people here seemed to be less judgmental that way than back home. Her information had come from television for that, but it had seemed like a real thing at least. It was so common that no one really even thought about it. If you were fat, you were the joke, or the comedy relief. That, or the lesson of the week, since tolerance for difference was a good thing.
As if being a few pounds too heavy made people all that different?
The wooden structures of the place were worn and even cracked in places and the whole thing was made of wood. There was actual dirt on the benches too. She didn't comment on it, just sitting, after making some token brushing motions, angling her body away from Beth, so that they could each watch half of the space.
Bethany however, was a Detective first, and watched the whole platform carefully. It was open on one side, but covered for comfort, and about a hundred feet deep, so that even in the rain or snow, people would be out of it. The ticket areas were at the back, but they didn't really need those, since they'd already been provided, and if they lost them, well, she had a Crin.
They'd get on the fucking train.
Her temper was rising already and no one had done more than even looked at them. Yeah, she knew that would set her off, since for the longest time a person that stared at her almost always meant trouble, or at least ridicule. Thankfully it did this time too, since a woman and her female friend marched over to them, and started reading them the riot act.
"You! You're dangerous you are! Westmorland rifters, come to tear things apart like you did Worthington! We's all good people here and don't need none of that kind of shenanigans. Git. Git." She used both her hands to make a gesture that Gwen assumed meant they were supposed to git, as she was instructing them to.
Her friend was holding back several paces, and just looked scared rather than like she wanted to personally remove them from the place. Most of the other people looked away. It was probably considered the correct thing to do when a woman was making a fool of herself in public. Even Beth did it, and she was the one being insulted. One of them.
The woman was clearly not an uppercrust person, economically speaking. It was in her voice and her rather shabby, if very well pressed, dress. It had to be warm, being more of a sturdy winter fashion, but not everyone could afford to dress to each season, she bet.
Gwen did something unexpected it seemed, and actually spoke back to the woman, which got her to go silent, almost instantly. Shocked, no doubt.
"No. We're on Special Service business, sent by the King himself, at least on paper." That was true, since all Special Service work was by order of the King, even if he didn't personally know about it at the moment. "Now, you're going to go and sit down, and not run your mouth at us, or I'll find some excuse to have you up on charges. I normally wouldn't bother, but I've been up for over a day and have a splitting headache. So which are we doing? I think I have about an hour to send for the local Constabulary, if you really want to play it that way." She glared.
Gwen was actually good at that one, it having been one of her three recognizable facial expressions from back home, her lumpy and scarred face not really being able to smile or frown. Glaring though, was universal. She'd also done sad credibly well. At least people in the hospital had always said so.
The woman froze in place and her friend, clearly being the smart one, pulled the woman away by the arm with more force than really seemed needed.
When she spoke, it was with a good bit more politeness at least.
"Sorry ma'am's, A mistake. Didn't know you was on duty, Clara didn't. Not trying to interfere."
Gwen looked at the woman, but forced herself to assume she actually meant it, or was at least trying to get out of a bad situation without jail time, or whatever they'd get for interference.
"Understood. We'll let it go this time, but don't do it again. Things are still too tense, and everyone knows that it wasn't the Westmorlands that rifted Worthington, but the terrorists that were being lead by Doctor Debussey."
The woman that was pulling her friend away actually spit on the floor, when that name was mentioned. It was crude, but really did show their contempt pretty well.
The smart one, who was the shorter of the two traveling women, as well as the more timid looking, having slightly bugged eyes and gangly features, suddenly looked stern.
"I know that, ma'am. Clara too. She's just been listening to the Newsies too much. The wrong sort. I told her not to, but people are afraid. Those evil ones, they took the Capital, in the blink of an eye, and no one could stop them, not until Gwen Farris went and killed that Debussey woman." There was more spitting then. From a lot of people.
Gwen looked at the woman and tried not to wince, hearing her own name like that.
"Gwen Farris and a lot of other people. Mainly Westmorlands. Here's something I bet you didn't know, when they went in, they were planning to rift the gate that was being formed, if nothing else would work. Every single man, woman and child that was there, and yes, there were children in that group, was ready to give up their lives to protect you. The only people that went were volunteers and every Westmorland that was asked to go did it without hesitation. Even thinking that they'd probably die in the process. It was Bethany Westmorland that Doctor Debussey considered the biggest threat to her gaining power. In the end, she was only stopped because of that one woman's actions."
The woman doing the tugging nodded, and pulled the other one away, though she was clearly angry and tried to come back, probably for more yelling. It sort of gave the lie to why people claimed they feared the Westmorlands though, didn't it? They said they feared death due to rifting, but then walked right up to these "dangerous" people and started insulting them to their faces? Not everyone did it, but it was clear they were just using that as an excuse to be mean and cruel to people that they knew weren't allowed to fight back.
Ones conditioned not to, without direct orders.
It was barbaric, really.
Now even more people were staring at them, and a few looked upset. Angry and hostile. She let her right hand move toward her clothing bag, since she might need one of the Crins in there. It was laying across her lap at the moment, the strap of her backpack around her ankle to prevent theft. No one else was doing that and a few people had clearly just left their trunks, suitcases and other soft sided bags as they went to use the restroom or go to the vendor that was selling fruit and what seemed to be cups of coffee in cheap looking ceramic bowls.
That would be nice, but she had to wait, in case of attack. Over the course of a minute she opened the two top buttons of her clothing bag, and put her left hand on the cool metal pipe of one of the crystal inducers. Her hand wasn't on the squeeze trigger, which she hoped was a smart move. The way she was feeling, she was a lot more likely to snap and need the extra few moments not to kill someone for saying the wrong thing than she was to need instant death at her fingertips. Hopefully.
Her head hurt, and she was grumpy, which might just cost these people some discomfort in return, if they didn't leave her and Beth alone.
>
When the next wave of attacks came, it was at least in a different vein. Honestly they weren't even attacks, just people being questioning of what she'd just said.
It started with a man that was wearing a rather normal looking suit, a lot like what the constabulary wore on duty, but with just a few wrinkles in it. His large trunk probably meant he was a traveling salesman of some kind. Instead of trying to get them to buy something, he commented on her words.
Gruffly.
"And how would you know what happened on that fateful day? I can't remember anyone singling out a particular Westmorland for accolades or praise. It was, or at least it's said, Gwen Farris that killed the woman. Even that is more than a little suspect, isn't it? Both the hero and the villain being women? The whole thing has always struck me as being more than a little unlikely. It was probably a full strike team that took down the true mastermind, and the rest of this is just a farce, so that we could all sleep at night, safe in the knowledge that no one will ever be able to do such a thing again."
It actually sounded pretty reasonable to her, Gwen realized and a few other people were nodding along, until a young man that looked to be of an age to be at University, shook his head and stood up.
"No, she's real. I was trying to sign up on that day, for the army, when she came along and told us that we might as well hold off, as the battle would be too soon for that to do any good. Then she had one of the Embattled hand out weapons to us and show us how to use them. Complete with dot-sighters, so we wouldn't miss too much. I was in guarding the assembled magicians that had come to help, so I believe I heard more of the story that most. What she said matches. Then, it would." The man, who couldn't have been more than about twenty, sat and didn't say anything else, but he did rather glare at the mustached salesman fellow. That didn't stop him from running his mouth however.
"Oh? So you admit that things were hidden from the public? They always are. The government views us all as imbeciles, fit only to shine their shoes and pay our tariffs. People were so scared that they were willing to believe anything that came over the Telesar, and the King decided to make a hero of some woman, thinking us all too foolish to realize it was nothing but a lark for him. That or he isn't intelligent enough to understand that any thinking man would see right through his flimsy words-" He stopped suddenly, since he had a PC in his face.
Beth stood there, true anger in her eyes, ready to kill the man. At least that's how Gwen took what she was doing. She nodded at the man and waved at her friend.
"I think it's the part about the King not being intelligent. You might want to take that part back. Um, quickly."
The man wasn't that foolish, and did it with good enough humor.
"Indeed, I misspoke. I know the King to be a man of intelligence, but I simply cannot see women being responsible for all of this. Surely you can understand that it isn't very likely, can't you?"
Beth put the PC, a dull silver metal piece, away in the special side pocket that was built into her uniform for it and smiled, a bit wickedly.
"It's all true though. Every single word of it. Unlikely or not. I say that with shame, since it might reflect poorly on me as a woman, but I won't lie about it."
The man cleared his throat and looked away.
"Naturally not. I was clearly letting my manners slip. I meant no insult to your word. Or that of your friend here. I guess, as they say, it's best not to discuss business or politics in an open setting."
That got a small nod from several other people, and no one else tried to talk to them at all, even though the University man kept looking at her. Probably trying to see when she was going to fall down, exhausted. She should get in on that, because her own guess had to be better than anyone else's. That or he'd actually noted that she had her hand inside her clothing bag and it seemed to have a frame on the sides, which most such things didn't. That was where the Crins were being kept, one on either side. It did look a bit funny, she realized, though no one else was staring at her.
Finally, and very quietly, compared to what she'd expected from old movies, the train pulled up, a large silver bell ringing as a man walked out of the ticket area and called out in a loud voice.
"The blue line, number seventeen is in. The blue line, number seventeen. Please have your tickets ready at the door, and have a safe and comfortable trip."
Not nearly as many people moved as she would have thought. It was just her, Beth, the salesman, University guy, and almost ironically, the two women from earlier. The rest of the people all just stayed put.
At least the man with his large case and even larger trunk managed a wry grin for them when they stood.
"I see that this will be a comfortable trip then? Again, I apologize for earlier." He was clearly trying to smooth things over, so Gwen yawned, not being able to help it and smiled gently.
"Sure. We might as well make nice, if we're headed the same way. I'm Gwen, and this is Bethany. Pleased to meet you."
"Eugene Hadley. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."
From behind them, there was a voice, the shorter woman from before. The one the Gwen decided really was the smart one in that pair, based mainly on her ability to not be a raging bigot in public.
"Gwen and Bethany? But..."
Yes, she was clearly the bright one indeed, because she didn't bother to finish the sentence.
Then, as they stood in the doorway, the porters came, along with an older man that looked at each of their tickets.
"Now that's rare, this early in a ride. All of you are headed to the same destination. I guess that's because of the recent happenings..." He seemed slightly baffled by it, but Bethany looked at her and nodded, with a lot more emphasis than she'd have normally bothered to use.
It was clear, one way or the other, that their work was starting earlier than they'd thought it would.
Chapter seven
They didn't speak about the coincidence, but Bethany gave her a look. It was the kind of thing that said a lot about the situation, without really making sense to Gwen at all. She was too tired for things to make sense about what the woman wanted, but hoped that it had to do with telepathy and reading these people's minds. Otherwise the next few hours might just be a little uncomfortable for her friend. Especially if she had to read the thoughts of that bigot, Clara.
Beth shook her head a little though, and gestured with her head as they moved onto the train, a black man in a porter's uniform coming up to help them with their bags, then hesitating as he got closer. The man was in his late thirties or so, and had a slightly round face, but in a muscular way that showed he had some kind of physical hobby at least, or possibly worked out, however that was done here.
He didn't have the look of a runner, but was decently muscled. Like an amateur bodybuilder, though as far as she'd ever heard that wasn't a thing here.
Beth however didn't speak, and simply clutched at her bag a little more tightly. The plan was for them to not let go of the things, but social convention said that they should. That meant the detective was conflicted about it, since her training made her want to do what was normal, if she didn't need to do otherwise for her job. Mainly. There were clearly some gaps in that line of thinking. She'd never really done that kind of thing before, had she? So maybe Gwen was just wrong, and it was something else.
For a moment she wished that she had a guidebook as far as things like that went. One that told her why other people did weird things without her having to ask, and most often have them pretend they didn't know what the hell she was talking about.
She had to keep herself from grunting as the man, who was about five-nine or so, meaning two inches taller than her, more or less, dithered. He grinned nicely though, and was clearly looking at both of them with more trepidation than not.
"Special Service. We're on duty, so the bags have to stay in our sight at all times. There are weapons in them, so if you see someone trying to run off with one of them, tackle them before they can get it open." She nearly
tipped the man, but that wasn't a big thing in the Western Kingdom. You could get away with accidently overpaying at times, if you were in a hurry, but people just expected to do the job they were paid for and that was it. The fellow didn't seem too hurt by that part, though his eyes still seemed worried for some reason.
"I... Are you coming to check the North line, where all those deaths have been happening?"
It wasn't a secret, and they were both dressed up in uniform, so were kind of hard to hide at the moment. Gwen thought about it for a second, then nodded.
"Yes. Do you ever work on that line?"
"Yes, ma'am. I was on it when that poor girl, Stacey Renaldo, the second one, was taken. The train just stopped dead for three days after that. I haven't been back since, but I hear all sorts of strange things from the other porters and servers that have been up there."
Beth watched the man closely, in a way that seemed nearly hawk like. It took a moment for Gwen to realize that she was in her analytical mode already. It was a highly logical state that would allow her to memorize everything she saw or heard, but that didn't do Gwen any good at all. That meant moving to the side while gesturing to the fellow, placing her bag on one of the seats. They were made of leather, but had cracks on some of them, and were in mismatching colors, as if they'd been replaced at some point, but no one had really cared about making it look good for some reason.
Digging in her pack, her right knee on her clothing bag, she managed to find the smaller of her two writing pads. The work one that she planned to use for note taking.
"I know that you have work to do right now, but do you think you could tell us about all that later? I'll need your name, age, and that sort of thing right now." She brandished the little pad, in case he missed the point. "Notes, so I don't have to keep hunting you down to ask the same questions over and over. It saves time."
The fellow smiled again, and then looked at Bethany as if she might be dangerous. Of course, he wasn't that much of a coward really, if he thought that they were both Westmorlands and might blow up at any second. How calm would she have been if she were standing next to a nuclear bomb? Thinking about it, she decided it would be something like this man. Nervous, but hiding it, knowing that it probably wouldn't hurt her.