Eric Flint's Blog, page 165

Chain of Command – Snippet 20

Chain of Command – Snippet 20

“Commander, I don’t know anything about any intelligence leaks.”

“Then how could you be so sure the same attack launched against your force could have been duplicated against ours? Our senior operations staff assures me the potential volume of space where we could emerge from interstellar jump renders chance detection of an arriving force almost impossible. Coincidental detection of two such forces?” She frowned and shook her head.

“Yeah, well … all due respect to your operations people, Commander, but they think like astrogators, not Tac-heads.”

Then Sam explained in detail why the astrogation standard practices of arriving Earth forces had made it possible to detect them, the same as he had explained to Huhn and the others the day of the attack. Commander Atwater-Jones listened carefully, nodding her understanding, her face eventually creasing with anger.

“Knobbers!” she finally said when he was done, then she shook her head. “Oh, not you Bitka. Excellent piece of tactical reasoning.”

She stared ahead for a moment, her eyes not on him, so she must have been studying information projected by her viewer glasses. Her focus returned to him.

“You’re a reservist,” she said, surprise in her voice.

“Yes, ma’am. Is that a problem?”

“Heavens, no! Why, some of my best chums are Royal Navy Reserve.” She gave him a lop-sided grin. “We just don’t expect them to be prodigies, that’s all. What’s your secret?”

Prodigy? Sam felt his face warm a bit but he took a breath and made his mind work this through. He was on dangerous ground: he didn’t want to say anything a British officer might interpret as criticism of the US Navy, and who knew what her agenda was? He did suspect that flattery from a naval intelligence officer was more likely a prelude to trouble than to good news.

“I’m no prodigy, Commander, and there’s no secret, just excellent training at Pearl River–the Deep Space Tactical Warfare School. Fundamentals of interplanetary astrogation, sensor performance at light-second range, combat tactics on a high-closing-rate vector–they made it all seem easy and fun.”

She laughed.

“Easy and fun? They must have changed some of the faculty since I read tactics there six years ago. An exchange assignment, you know. Beastly in the summer, isn’t it?”

“It’s not really the heat,” Sam said with a smile, “it’s the humidity.”

“I rather thought it was both,” she answered and she nodded thoughtfully, but Sam didn’t think her mind was on the climate of southwestern Mississippi. After a moment her eyebrows danced up just for an instant and then settled back, as if shrugging.

“Right. Well, thank you Leftenant Bitka, you have been most helpful.”

And the connection went dead.

Sam took off his helmet and clipped it to his workstation, then stretched his back and locked his fingers behind his head.

What was his secret? Did he even have a secret?

After college and his mandatory term of active duty service with the Navy, he’d spent seven years in the private sector, working his way up to assistant vice president for West Coast Product Support in the large-capacity fabricator division of Dynamic Paradigms. Had anything from his work helped him as a tactical officer? It had taught him how to figure out what his bosses wanted and give it to them, which got him through Pearl River with great marks. Then it got him strong fitness reports and glowing recommendations from the captains he served under before coming to USS Puebla.

The training really had been good, and something about it had appealed to him. It was easy and fun, but probably less because of the instructors and more because Sam had taken to it. It was a good mental fit, the way you sometimes meet a stranger but your minds are organized so similarly that within no time you feel like you’ve know her for years. But others took to the training as well. That wasn’t his secret.

He started to sip coffee from the drink bulb tethered to his desk but it had gone cold. He flushed it in his drink dispenser’s liquid recycler and switched to mango juice. He had enough caffeine in his system but a little sugar wouldn’t hurt.

What was his secret? It wasn’t his secret at all; it was the Navy’s, and he didn’t think they even knew they had one. A hundred years of peaceful space travel had left the Navy paying lip service to the violent part of its mission, and you could see it in something as simple as where officers sat at the wardroom table. Promising regulars, the ones with good marks and better connections, went into operations–astrogation and communication–not tactics. They had to do rotations in tactical departments, but when they did they usually opted for the sensor slots rather than weapons. Weapons were things you maintained and polished and practiced shooting, but never actually used. Sensors at least were useful for astrogation.

Sam didn’t fault that. It wasn’t for him to judge, and in any case it made sense. What the Navy did was move people and ships around, and to do that they needed astrogators, communicators, and engineers. The tactical people had been dead weight for a hundred years, they were the bottom rung on the social ladder, and as soon as a bunch of bright-eyed reservists started coming into uniform, as many of the old tactical officers as could manage it had switched over to operations, leaving their seats for reservists to fill.

But what Sam had said to the British commander was true as far as it went: operations people just didn’t think tactically; they thought like astrogators. What he hadn’t told her was that, as far as he could tell, right now the United States Navy was run, top to bottom, by astrogators.

He couldn’t just come out and say that to some Limey.

Had he just gotten a number of astrogators in trouble? He hoped so. Those would be the same ones who got Jules and six more of his shipmates killed by cutting corners to make their jobs easier. If Sam survived this, they’d find out what real trouble was.

Speaking of trouble…

Sam keyed his embedded commlink and squinted up the connection to the duty communications petty officer.

Sig-One Kramer.

“Kramer, this is the XO. Notify the captain that the task force smart boss just called for a face-to-face with me by name, and send the captain the recording of the conference.”

Aye, aye, sir.

“Oh, and Kramer … make sure you let him know I told you to send him the recording.”

 

The Amber Arrow – Snippet 20

The Amber Arrow – Snippet 20

Chapter Seventeen: The Changelings

Several of the half-breed children were sharing blankets that the Skraelings had rolled out from their bedrolls.

“They done run us out of the West,” said the little boy who had been Bandage-leg. His leg looked even more hurt than before. Changing form definitely did not mean that wounds were healed.

There was a gash down his calf that split the muscle in two. The gash was at least a half-finger-length deep. Nootaw, one of the Skraelings, had taken a look at it. Without asking, he’d sat down next to Bandage-leg and taken out an iron needle and thread.

The boy looked warily at the man, but continued talking with Ursel.

“Who ran you out? How long have you been traveling?” Ursel asked.

“Days and days,” said the boy. “Our folks set us to running when the bad ones came in to burn the camp.”

“You’re from the Cantuck?”

“I reckon you call it that over here. We just call it the Happy Hunting Ground. It’s supposed to be ruled by old King Gil Yarmo, but he’s more of a bandit. Least that’s what folks say.” He glanced at Nootaw, who had finished threading his needle. “What’s he going to do with that?” he asked nervously.

“He’s going to help you. He’s going to sew up that wound,” Ursel replied.

“I don’t like that.”

“If you don’t let him, you’re going to bleed to death,” Ursel said. “So is this king the one who attacked your camp?”

“Naw, it wasn’t him. There’s been a bunch of bad ones pushin’ in from the south and out west toward the Mississipp. Men. Trolls. A few Tier with ’em. The Romans put a bounty out on us, they said, and they aimed to collect. Bring in a were skin and get a hogshead of tobacky. Float it down the river to Orleans and make your stake for a year.”

“Why would the Romans do that? They’ve left the Wild Kingdoms in peace for a hundred years.”

“Don’t rightly know. Paw and Maw didn’t say. So we ran a long way and I been showing them others how to cross the mountains on account of I’ve been over to Shenandoah before once or twice. We got into the valley okay and we were living off a sick heifer now and then. Then you was following us, I think.”

“I was.”

“Didn’t know that for sure. You’re crafty.”

“Thanks.”

“And you didn’t seem to mean us no harm.”

“I don’t.”

“Anyhow, then these here men rustled and bustled up, and we took off. But that pack of wolves picked up our trail and they been running us since yesterday. We was about to just lay down and die when we come across your sign again. I figured you might help. Don’t know why. But I did. We’d just about give up.”

“I was looking for you before. I knew you couldn’t be wolves, because you weren’t being a danger to any people, or dragging down healthy cattle.”

“We was hungry,” the boy said. “And we have to eat to get enough strength to change back, you know. So we needed to do that so we could talk about where we was going and whether or not to go back now and see if we can find our folks, or if they’re all dead. Last we saw them they was fighting the bounty hunters so’s we could get away.”

“You’ve had a really hard trip,” Ursel said. “I wish I could take you back to my father’s hall and feed you. But we have to be pressing on. Do you want to go with us?”

The boy seemed to think about it. He started to speak then hesitated. He looked to the others. The bedraggled children gazed at him. None of them spoke. They all seemed very tired and scared. “I reckon we’ll stay here,” the boy said. “There’s a lot of food now.” He nodded toward the dead wolves.

He means to eat them, Ursel thought. Well, turnabout is fair play, I suppose.

“We’ll get that meat up, and then I reckon we’ll head on back to see what become of our folks.”

“I want to give you something,” Ursel said. “I can write you out a note of passage through the mark. You could maybe wear it on a little bottle around your neck or something to keep it safe. If anybody tries to stop you, you pull that out and show them my signature. Everyone in these parts knows who I am. I’ll even tell them to feed you if they have any extra food.”

The boy gazed at Ursel for a moment. Tears came to his eyes. “Thank you, Mistress,” he said. “We didn’t know there was any kin in these parts no more.”

“Now you have to let this man sew up your wound,” Ursel said. “You’ve got to be brave and let him do it, okay?”

“Does he have to?”

“He has too.”

The boy clenched his hands and scrunched up his face. “Then let’s get it over with.”

Ursel walked a few paces away while Nootaw put several stitches in the whimpering, but obedient, boy.

“What’s he talking about?” Wannas asked. “These are not coyote people. These are were-creatures. Human-Tier changelings. They would just as soon rip your throat out as look at you, I’ve always heard.”

“These kids aren’t going to rip anyone’s throats out,” Ursel said.

She went back to the children. The wound was pulled shut on Bandage-leg. It was seeping blood, but the major flow had stopped.

“If you go back and find that your parents are not there, I want you to come back to me,” Ursel told the whole group. “Come to Bear Hall. You can bring anyone you pick up along the way, too. There shouldn’t be any children wandering around in the wild. That’s the way changelings got the bad reputation they have in the first place. You go see about your parents, then come to me if you need to.”

“What do we call you? You have the bear look, and there’s no mistaking it.”

“My name is Ursel. Ursel Keiler. Everybody in this forest knows who I am, and they will be able to show you how to get to me.”

“Okay,” the boy said. “But I guess we’d better be eatin’ if we want to keep our strength up.”

“Are you sure you want to go back?”

“Wouldn’t you want to go back if it was your folks?”

Ursel nodded. “I understand. My offer stays open. Come to me if you need to. You won’t be harmed in my forest.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

The boy raised a hand to signal the others and soon the writhing and growling came back. This time they were transforming from human into coyotes. The only thing that marked them as different from regular coyotes was the purple glowing ring in their eyes around the iris.

They picked themselves up and went over to the wolves. Soon they were yapping and playfully fighting each other for a chance to feed on the carcasses.

“We’ll rest here tonight,” Ursel said to Wannas. “I want to make sure that those wolves don’t come back to bother the children. They ought to get at least one night of safety.”

“I don’t get it, Ursel,” Wannas said. “I understand that they are just children, but they are interlopers on your father’s land. You don’t really know whether you can take them at their word or not. We’ll have to set a guard to make sure they don’t rip our throats out in the night.”

“I’ll take the first watch,” she said. “I’m not worried about getting my throat ripped out. I’m worried about what is happening in the Wild Kingdoms to send kids as refugees here. Anyway, I have a special interest in weres.”

“Really, why?”

“Because nobody else does,” Ursel replied. “Everybody thinks they are evil. I’ve always thought they are just ignorant. And they never get a chance to learn any different, because they are always being chased like animals.”

“Maybe there’s a reason they get chased,” said Wannas. “Maybe there’s a reason that people think Tier hybrids and human changelings should be stamped out.”

Ursel smiled slyly. “These puppies?” she said. She shook her head. “These cute little puppies? Come on, Wannas. Really?”

“They could grow up to be killers and cutthroats. They likely will.”

Ursel pointed over toward the coyotes tearing into the wolves.

“They get a bad reputation.” She stood up and cinched up her belt holding a quiver of arrows. She unstrung her bow. Then she wiped the blood from the wolf off its end. Finally, she looked around and found a place to set up her guard over the changelings.

 

The Spark – Snippet 07

The Spark – Snippet 07

Buck had never been in a place like this; he sure didn’t want to go in. I didn’t either, to tell the truth, but I didn’t see another choice. I took the length of cord turned three times around my waist, tied a good-sized loop in one end with a square knot, and laid it over Buck’s head. He was trembling, but he didn’t fight me.

The leash wasn’t to hold him–it wasn’t tight and it wouldn’t tighten. It just meant that I was serious and he had to obey.

“It’s okay, boy,” I whispered. “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

We walked to where May waited for us by a counter just inside the doorway. She turned to the ostler and said, “Here he is, Taney. Give him a kennel for a week, will you? Though I don’t know how long it’s really going to be.”

She knows everybody in Dun Add, I thought. I wondered who she really was. None of the women I’d seen in the park wore clothes as nice as May did, as simple as her dress looked.

“What’s his number?” said Taney, taking a square of paper from a spike and lifting a brush from his ink well. He was way heavier than he ought to be, but there were real muscles in his scarred arms.

“He doesn’t have one yet,” said May.

“Aw, Miss May!” Taney said wearily. “You know I’m not supposed to stable animals until there’s a number to charge ’em to.”

I brought my purse out from under my trousers. Before I could make an offer, May said, “Oh, come on, Taney. If you won’t do it for the Consort, do it for me. All right?”

“All right, all right,” muttered Taney. “But you know I shouldn’t.”

He wrote 413 down on the chit and slid it to me. May leaned over the counter and kissed his grizzled cheek. Taney turned his head away and said, “Aw, May,” again but in a soft tone this time.

“Do I…?” I said, but a boy wearing a leathern apron came down an aisle between the ranked kennels and took the leash.

“Where’s your chit?” the boy said. He turned his head sideways to read my slip of paper right-way-up and said, “Okay, four thirteen. Four Level is being fed right now. That okay for him?”

“Yes, that’s good,” I said. I turned my back so that I didn’t have to watch Buck being led up a winding ramp. He didn’t even whine.

I wanted to whine myself, though. I felt more alone than I’d ever been in my life.

“Now, let’s get you fed too,” May said. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at me.

“I’m all right,” I said. I hoped that was true.

We turned to the right as we left the stables and walked along the pavement. I’d blinked my eyes clear by the time we turned into another high doorway, thirty feet along the way. This was like the common room of an inn. The forty odd men–they were all men–eating at the tables weren’t a tenth of what the hall could have held.

“What’s on offer today, Yoko?” May asked one of the men at the serving counter. “Oh, and will you give me a pitcher of water to put these in?” She gestured with the tulips in her right hand. “I meant to have them up in Jolene’s suite by now.”

“Stewed pork and collards,” the server said. He reached behind him for a pitcher, which he scooped into a tub of water. He raised his eyebrow at me and said, “Two bowls?”

“Please,” said May, taking the pitcher.

“I’ll get ’em,” I said as the server ladled two ironstone bowls full. He offered two horn spoons also, which I gripped between my left ring and little fingers.

I followed to the table where May was sitting. I’d have sat opposite but she scooted over on the bench and patted the end beside her. I set the bowls and spoons on the table, shrugged off my pack and stowed it under the bench, and finally sat down myself.

From the way people were staring, May didn’t usually eat on these scarred tables; which I could well believe. She lifted her spoon but paused when I took half the tulips from the pitcher she’d set in front of us. I retrimmed the stems at a slant, then traded and fixed the other half as well.

I put my knife back in the sheath under my waist band and tucked into the pork. It was wonderful. Granted that the cook knew his business–there were spices beyond pepper, and the pot hadn’t been stewed to mush as I’d expected–it made me realize how hungry I was. I was glad Buck was eating by now, too.

May was looking at me in amazement. “Ah…?” I said. “I figured the ends had dried out while you’ve been guiding me around. They’ll take up water better now. Besides, you’d used scissors to cut them and that pinches. A knife’s better if you’re putting the stems in water.”

“Yes, I suppose it is,” May said. She took a little sip of the pork, then said, “What decided you to leave your home, Pal? I suppose Beune bored you?”

“No ma’am,” I said. “There’s plenty going on in Beune. We’re pretty close to Not-Here, you see, and you can never tell what’s going to drift across. Besides, I’m sort of a Maker and there’s always something new to learn, you know?”

May finished her big spoonful and then took more. I suspect she was finding she liked the pork better than she’d expected to.

“No, I didn’t know that,” she said. “I certainly didn’t know you were a Maker. Didn’t you say you wanted to be a Champion?”

“Ma’am–May, I’m sorry, I’m a Maker for fun,” I said. “I really like to learn things. But it’s the Champions who’re going to bring safety and justice back to Mankind. I can’t be a Champion on Beune.”

“I see,” May said, but she said it a way that made me pretty sure that she didn’t. She took another spoonful.

“May, if I can ask?” I said.

She looked sideways at me. After a moment, she gave me a tiny nod.

“You mentioned ‘the Consort,’ and then you said, you were bringing the flowers for Jolene?” I said. “Is that–”

“I mean Lady Jolene, the Leader’s Consort,” May said, turning to face me. “I’m one of her attendants.”

“Um,” I said. I’d pretty near finished my stew, but I managed to scoop a little more juice onto my spoon so that I wasn’t staring at May. “I guess that explains why everybody’s so respectful to you.”

That might sound wrong. “Not that they shouldn’t be, I mean,” I added. “It’s just that folks aren’t always as polite as they ought to be. On Beune, anyway.”

A man came up behind me. I didn’t think anything of it for a moment, but I turned when I realized he wasn’t walking on.

He was older than me but not old, thirty maybe, and starting to get a paunch. His clothes were good, with velvet piping on the jacket and down the legs of his trousers. I said, “Sir?”

“I thought you didn’t like men, little lady,” he said to May. He wasn’t shouting, but his voice was louder than it had to be. The cat jumped from May’s lap and vanished under the table.

I got up. I couldn’t get between the stranger and May, but I was right beside him. I was taller by a few inches, but he could give me more weight than just the fat he was carrying.

With me standing, May could push the bench back enough she could get up too.

She said, “I have nothing against men, Easton. I don’t like you, is all.”

“Look, you slut–” Easton snarled.

“Sir!” I said in his ear. “You’re speaking to a lady!”

“Shut up, kid,” Easton said without turning. “If you’re good, I’ll give you seconds after May services me.”

May slapped him, hard enough to spin his head sideways. People jumped up from their meals, and a couple benches fell over.

Easton’s left hand caught May by the shoulder; his right arm cocked back. It kept coming back because I’d grabbed his wrist. There were men like him on Beune, so I’d known what to expect. When Easton tried to grab me by the hair, I kneed him in the crotch and stepped back.

He didn’t go down, but he backed against the bench and banged it over. May had gotten clear and was in the aisle.

“All right, hobby,” Easton said in a raspy voice. He was bending over a bit still. “You’re wearing arms, so you’ll meet me on the field in an hour. Or I’ll have you whipped out of the city, whipped so you’ll be lucky to be able to walk!”

“I’ll meet you on the field,” I said.

It was funny, but now I felt better than I had since I got to Dun Add. This sort of business hadn’t been new to me since I was about five years old.

 

Chain of Command – Snippet 19

Chain of Command – Snippet 19

Sam shook his head. “I gave the order but only after the Captain gave me permission.”

“And the audio track will confirm that?” she said.

“No, the Captain nodded to me. He didn’t speak.”

“And the permanent holo-vid track will confirm that?”

Sam shrugged. “At one frame a second, who knows if you can tell he nodded. But I’m saying he did. You calling me a liar, Filipenko?”

She looked away. “This really stinks. I’m trying to do the right thing, the responsible thing, but it feels ugly and small and …and dirty, like I should go take a sponge bath. I have this feeling no matter what I do, I’ll end up dirty.” She turned and looked at Sam. “The kind of dirt I’ll never scrub off. You know what I mean?”

“I do. You want to not feel dirty? Stop trying to make judgments about things that are above your pay grade. When you leave here, go find Ensign Lee and kick her ass from here to Monday. Tell her what I told you about the captain nodding. Tell her to stop spreading rumors about things she doesn’t know the whole story on, rumors that undermine the authority of the captain and endanger everyone on the boat. Those are breaches of Navy regulations and in wartime constitute a serious offense, punishable by loss of rank, separation from the service, and imprisonment. Explain that you’re telling her that as a favor, because if I have to–as exec–it’ll get ugly.”

Filipenko again looked away. “There wasn’t supposed to be a war, ever again,” she muttered. “And if there was, it wasn’t supposed to feel this way. I hate it, hate all of it. We didn’t sign on for this.”

“Amen,” Sam said, but only to make her feel better. He didn’t really believe it.

In fact all of them had signed on for exactly this. Filipenko had graduated from Annapolis in 2130, with a commission as a regular officer in the United States Navy, with all that entailed. Twelve years earlier, in the fall of ’18, Sam had joined the Naval Reserve Officer Training Corps at U-Cal San Diego, and if it was mostly for access to the excellent NROTC gliders and sailboats, what difference did that make now? What difference did it make that when they had all agreed to serve, none of them had imagined that it would come to this? Did their lack of imagination relieve them of their obligation?

It occurred to Sam that lack of imagination might actually be an asset in the coming weeks.

His commlink vibrated and he squinted to see the ID of the duty communications petty officer.

“XO,” Sam answered.

Sir, this is Signaler First Class Kramer, communications. I have an incoming request for a holo-conference from USS Pensacola, Task Force flagship.

“They’re about ten hours early. Have you notified the captain?”

Sir, the request is from a Commander Atwater Jones, Royal Navy, and it’s for a one-on-one conference with you, by name, as soon as you’re available.

“That’s funny. I don’t recall knowing anyone in the Royal Navy.”

The second member state of the coalition was the West European Union, but the member states still maintained many of their pre-union national institutions, including their own armed forces. They operated under a unified command, but Sam still wasn’t sure exactly how that all worked. He looked up at Filipenko.

“Lieutenant, can you excuse me? Royal Navy needs a face-to-face.”

“What for?” she said.

Sam shrugged.

“I’m due on watch anyway,” she said and pushed off toward the doorway. “I’ll talk to Ensign Lee.” She closed the hatch behind her.

Sam wondered if she’d bought his story about Huhn nodding. He thought she had, and in any case she seemed to understand the necessity to act as if it were true. He hoped Ensign Lee would as well. If it came to an official board of inquiry, he wasn’t prepared to perjure himself, or torpedo Lee’s career, just to cover for Delmar Huhn’s lapse.

Sam put on his suit helmet, whose optics were necessary for the holo-conference, and triggered his commlink again.

“Okay, Kramer, let’s see what this Jones guy wants.”

Sam waited for a few seconds while Kramer patched the tight beam communicator channel through to his commlink and then the ghostly image of a tall, attractive, red-haired woman in her late thirties or early forties appeared, wearing a dark blue Royal Navy officer’s shipsuit and transparent viewer glasses.

“Um … I’m on the beam for a Commander Jones?” Sam said.

“Atwater-Jones,” she said. “Right, that’s me. You look surprised.”

“I was expecting a man,” he said, and her expression immediately darkened. “No, I just …it was the name. Atwater sounds like a guy is all.”

She squinted at him for a moment and then shook her head. “It’s my family name: Atwater-Jones, hyphenated. My first name is Cassandra.”

Aware he might have gotten off to a bad start, and also aware she outranked him by two grades, Sam tried to think of a way to make amends. “Cassandra’s, um …a nice name.”

“Really? I think it’s a perfectly dreadful name for a naval intelligence officer. Fraught with all sorts of unwanted significance. Wouldn’t have chosen it myself.”

“Well …what can I do for you, Commander?”

“Let me start by presenting my bona fides. I am N2, intelligence chief, to your Admiral Kayumati, part of the allied staff, Combined Task Force One. I believe both our services call the position Smart Boss. The commander of your destroyer division, Captain Bonaventure, forwarded your threat assessment but without any explanation as to how you came to your conclusions. I spoke with him and he had simply passed on the message sent by your captain. Huhn? Isn’t that his name?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Right. As Captain Bonaventure didn’t know any more than I did, he recommended I ring you up. The only information in the burst transmission was as follows: ‘Advise, Stinger Squadron attacked by pellet clouds on high velocity exact reciprocal course. Tac Boss Red Stinger Two believes identical profile attack likely main force. (Signed) Red Stinger Six Actual.’

“You are the TAC Boss?”

“Was. I’m XO now.”

“Congratulations on your promotion. Well-deserved, I’m sure. Now, I’m afraid I’m all in bits over this second attack against the main task force. The only way I can see these attacks launched is as a result of an intelligence leak–two leaks, actually, as the departure times and flight profiles of both forces would have to have been independently discovered and communicated. My question is this: how would the tactical officer on a destroyer, deployed in advance of us, know about those two leaks?”

 

The Amber Arrow – Snippet 19

The Amber Arrow – Snippet 19

From the trees charged–

Not wolves.

Too little.

Coyotes.

Yipping, screaming, sounding like a cross between a barn owl and a squeaky door hinge. Coyotes in a pack, headed for her. As if their lives depended on reaching her.

Looking over their surging backs, Ursel saw that this was true.

They were being chased by wolves.

“Don’t shoot the little ones!” Ursel called out. She turned to Wannas. “Tell your men in Algonquin. Don’t shoot the coyotes.” She took aim over the coyote shoulders. “Do shoot the wolves.”

Wannas translated what she said in a commanding voice.

Ursel let fly her arrow. It sank into the chest of the closest wolf, and the animal collapsed, rolling around and whimpering in pain.

She didn’t wait to see if it died. She nocked an arrow, took aim at another. This one didn’t give her an easy shot at its vitals. So instead she shot it through the eye. It collapsed as if it had run into an invisible tree trunk.

The other Skraelings were letting their first arrows go. Most found their mark and at least distracted a wolf. Ottaniak’s tomahawk neatly split one through the skull. Ursel had her third arrow nocked. But the wolves were turning to retreat. They scampered for the forest. She almost released a shot after them, but she didn’t want to waste arrows. They were going.

The coyotes collapsed on the ground nearby panting. There were ten of then. One was bleeding from a mauled rear leg. It tried to lick the blood away, but the flow was too fast. Ursel saw that it was a male. He was a little more muscular than the others.

Maybe he was injured so badly because he had stayed behind to fight and drive away the wolves, Ursel thought.

“Let’s make sure those wolves are dead,” she said. She nodded toward the carcasses of the downed wolves which they could see through the saplings. She took a step toward the bodies. When she did the coyotes all got up and moved with her. Even the one with the badly hurt leg. She turned back to look at them.

They were all arranged in a semicircle behind her. She spun around and took a few more steps. The coyotes matched her pace staying just behind her. She turned again.

“I’m just going to make sure we are safe from the wolves,” she said to them. But the coyote pack kept following her. She stopped. They stopped. She moved, they moved.

Ursel sighed. “All right. I don’t want you going over there. I’ll just stay here.” She turned to Wannas who was a few paces away. “Can you see to the wolves while I try to figure out what is going on here?”

Wannas nodded. There was a curious smile on his face as he looked at Ursel. “They seem to think you’re their mother,” he said.

“Well I’m not,” Ursel replied. She turned her gaze to the coyotes. “I’m not!” she said again, this time to the coyotes.

When they saw that she was not going to move anymore, they lay down again. Ursel went to tend to the coyote with the bleeding leg. There wasn’t much to do except to wrap it in a strip of muslin cloth with enough pressure to stop the blood flow. The little coyote limped, but it was able to stand up on its four feet after being bandaged.

Ursel looked over the pack. Their panting was dying down, and they didn’t seem to be whimpering and whining as much. Then the muscular leader started to growl. He hunched up and backed away. For a moment Ursel thought he was about to attack her. But then she realized he was gazing at something over her shoulder.

She didn’t think. Didn’t look, just reacted.

Ursel swung her bow around with two hands. It was good that she didn’t wait a moment longer. The wood of the bow connected with the skull of a wolf lunging toward her throat. Its teeth were bared and she could actually see the saliva strands in the wolf’s mouth, a hand away from her neck. She’d swung hard, and the bow knocked the wolf to the side. It already had an arrow in its side. When it hit the ground, it tried to get up, but the arrow stopped it from being able to roll over.

Then the coyotes were on the wolf.

They attacked with fierceness. And they were led by Bandage-leg. The wolf was already wounded to the point of death. It couldn’t withstand ten coyotes pouncing on it. Biting. Tearing

Ripping fur. Skin. Meat.

The coyotes took the wolf apart. Then, almost as if they’d gotten a signal, they went back to sit near Ursel. They stared up at her.

She looked into Bandage-leg’s eyes.

And she understood.

Around the pupil was a shining purple iris. Even in the daylight, the iris seemed to spark slightly. It was an eye color that no true coyote ever possessed, nor a coyote man. Ursel had no doubt that at night, the edge of the irises would glow.

This was called a “dasein ring.”

It was a sign that Tier and humans had mated across species.

These were were-coyotes.

Changelings.

“All right,” Ursel said to them. “Why don’t you transform? Then we can talk about what you are doing on my land.”

Wannas had come to stand beside her.

“What are you talking about?” he asked her.

Before she could answer, the coyotes started to whine. Several of them fell over and rolled around, yipping. All of them contorted in some way. Then they writhed about.

Then they contorted again, in ways no animal could.

They seemed almost to be turning themselves inside out.

Hair disappeared. Claws retracted. Snouts shortened.

When it was all done, they were not ten coyotes.

They were ten humans.

Small, naked humans.

Boys and girls.

Children.

 

Iron Angels – Snippet 27

Iron Angels – Snippet 27

Chapter 15

Lali stared at Rao, who in turn stared at the fluorescent light suspended above them with its robotic hum. The light’s cold flicker accentuated Rao’s hard face and the deep lines there, like one of those crazy contraptions the mad scientists operated in the old horror films Lali’s grandfather used to watch when she was a little girl.

Rao’s mind worked at something, dreaming? If so, dreaming of what, Lali wondered. The past glories of the cult — there was no other word for the group of madmen he ruled — he hoped to restore to their supposed greatness? Or perhaps the ecstasy of crossing over to the other world he spoke of incessantly? The man had a one-track mind, all right, maybe he thought of other activities a few times daily —

Ecstasy. Rao visited his version of ecstasy on Lali often enough and with force.

“Lali.”

She almost sighed, but caught herself.

“Yes, Rao.”

“See the flicker?”

“I do.”

“The flicker reminds me of the moment the nâga break through, stretching the plasma barrier.”

“Tell me more, I seek only enlightenment.” But the man’s ruminations grew tiresome. She desired information to assist in deciding her next move.

“The nâga’s glorious entry into our world is accompanied by a ravenous hunger for the Sha ‘Lu and the lifeblood contained in the sacrifices we provide.”

More like cattle lining up in a chute, awaiting their turn for slaughter. Lali refused to picture his description of the sacrifice in Old Testament terms, like when Abraham offered Isaac up for sacrifice to Jehovah upon the mountain.

Rao broke his reverie and turned his hard gaze upon her. She shivered, but brought it under control, hoping he had not noticed. His eyes lacked natural pigment. She never could figure the color. All black at times, but morphing into a swirling electrical storm at other times, especially when he claimed to touch another world.

Rao’s eyes narrowed and his mouth twisted, the lips curving into a cruel snarl. “We need stronger khâu. The miserable lot is failing us.” He struck his chest with a fist. “Failing me. One time is once too often, but a second time?” He stood before her, his sinewy arms now hanging, but both hands balled into fists.

Lali swallowed, unsure if Rao desired a discourse, but she needed to placate him if possible. His wrath took predictable turns aimed at her and the bed with the outlandish headboard. “At least the two at the Euclid did the proper thing and incinerated themselves.” She nodded as if reinforcing the khâus’ failure and how none of this had to do with her. Rao had told her of their fate, but he had raged for hours on their gross negligence.

Rao closed his eyes, the lids bright red, as if kissed by preternatural fire. “Oh, but this last one, the accident near the Euclid, that failure was spectacular in its carelessness and stupidity. A car accident? In a van at the very intersection where the hotel stands? How can the police not take notice of the coincidences? The Iron Thorn demands meticulous planning and lack of selfish motives amongst the khâu. Rao,” he thumped his chest, “demands this of them.”

Lali stared at Rao. He cared for his glory, and his alone. A cult. The Iron Thorn was nothing but a cult. Rao’s fanaticism dwarfed Koresh and the Branch Davidians. But there was something real behind his boasts, the man truly touched another world and had the scars and powers to prove those boasts. Demons and monsters, or fallen angels feeding on the sufferings of others? Lali wanted to find out.

“We’re safe enough for now in this industrial wasteland I’ve conquered.”

Oh, how he enjoyed speaking of himself and how intelligent and resourceful he was. Conquered? He hid in this abandoned but surprisingly sturdy building he’d purchased through a series of shell companies — at least that was how Lali understood the whole thing. The former petrochemical plant gurgled and dripped at all hours and a constant electric buzz whirred. The khâu slept downstairs in a storage room filled with bunk beds, always present and tending Rao’s needs, as well as the building’s.

Tepid pools dotted the lower level. A greenish blue film covered the still surface — a petrochemical pond, devoid of life. Like so many places on earth these days.

Rao sucked in a deep breath. “I breathed their air once, you know. The nâgas’ world is dangerous and jagged, but exhilarating. I swallowed their noxious water, their version of water.”

“The price I paid for that was miniscule. He studied his arms. The bands of muscle and tendons twitched in his forearms and biceps, highlighting the angry scars sheathing his arms like tattoo sleaves some men and women have etched into their skin. There was no doubt of his dominance over the Iron Thorn, the Câ Tsang and his place as its leader, the Tip of the Horn.

Khâu cowered before him, understanding the strength coursing through him upon passing back through the aperture into the human world, but also filled them with wonder and hope.

“Failure teaches, does it not?” Lali asked, keeping her tone timid and somewhat obsequious.

Rao nodded. “Yes, failure gives us new blood, perhaps a cleansing. More devoted and more important, more intelligent khâu who understand following my orders without question is their lifeblood.” Rao stood, motionless, staring at Lali. “You, woman, have the aptitude and attitude needed for a leadership role within the organization. You will face the trials soon enough and I’ll know whether you’re worthy.”

Rao spun away from her and leaned on the railing. Lali approached, her footfalls loud enough as to not surprise Rao. She grasped his shoulders from behind and the white-knuckled grip he had on the arms of the railing loosened.

“You’re tense.” She whispered into his ear, the warmth of her breath radiating back on to her face.

He shrugged her off. Rao never admitted weakness. She withdrew, and moved far enough away where he couldn’t spin and strike her if he desired.

“You’re not like the others, there is no worry there, woman.” He didn’t face her, but remained staring over the railing and down to the main area of the plant. “You don’t blindly follow like the khâu. You will someday break through to the other world once my place over there is secured.”

She didn’t really believe him. He’d use her to gain more power, but share in the power? She doubted that. If only she could supplant him, but that would require cunning and planning, long term goals to be sure, and all the while she’d have to endure his advances.

“Failure tenses Rao,” he said. “The police and FBI search for men like those weak khâu. But Rao and you, woman, have nothing to fear.”

She once again approached him. She breathed on his neck and pressed her lips there. She suppressed a shiver, fearing the touch would burn her. The man radiated unnatural heat.

“But you can’t do everything yourself.” Her fingertips dragged down his back.

Rao straightened and faced her, taking in her entire body. He lifted her arm and studied her tattoos, then with his other hands fondled her piercings. His face twisted, the disapproval of the markings and piercings obvious. He couldn’t resist her, but would any woman have had the same effect on Rao?

“You serve the Câ Tsang.” Desire sparked in his cold eyes, the only spark there. “Luckily for me, giving into my desires for your flesh is not against the tenants of the Câ Tsang.”

She pre-empted his coming advance and pressed against him. Her right hand glided down his chest and slid inside the loose waistband of his pants, squeezing what she found. “The only Iron Thorn I desire rests beneath here.” Rao wore no underwear, since he despised restrictive garments.

“Do not presume.” He yanked her hand free of his pants. “Rao will take you when he desires. No sooner.”

She touched her cheek and grinned. “Do you not desire me?”

“It is not for you to decide what Rao does and does not do. Who Rao desires. If he desires. You are still khâu. We seek communion with the nâga and their world. Do not forget your place.”

“Of course.”

“You tempt me with those wicked, half closed eyes.” He touched her cheek and dragged his fingers over her mouth. “And those lips.”

Lali understood full well what she was doing with her half asleep appearance and slightly parted lips, showing a hint of teeth and the tip of her tongue.

“You have tasks to complete before I will take you.” He turned from her, and she understood why. He’d grown excited at the thought of taking her and didn’t want her to notice — the bulge or his weakness.

“Let me help you,” she said. “Has something happened?”

Rao’s shoulders heaved, as if he tried to stifle a laugh. She pressed against him from behind, pushing her breasts into his back.

“Do not touch Rao unless instructed to do so.”

Rao didn’t quite trust her, but he was close — maybe. She pulled back from him, but only a few inches.

Rao turned and faced her, taking a deep breath as he did so. “It is time you learned of the ritual. The failures of the other khâu have caused the nâga consternation and forced them to feast outside the parameters.”

What did he mean? Parameters? She couldn’t hide her confusion from him.

“You wear the vacant expression of the men, those pitiful khâu. Ah, but when you think for yourself you don’t court disaster, unlike them.” Rao shook his head. “I’ll forgive your confusion, and understand I’ve told you more about the nâga than any of them. The last three khâu failed me. As leader of the Câ Tsang, Rao is infallible. Remember that. But you asked what was wrong, and now I’ve told you. Think you can help Rao?”

Lali shrugged. “Perhaps.”

“The Euclid Hotel was the perfect place for the ritual. We risk much by continuing to use the old building.”

“The police?” Lali asked.

“Yes, but the khâu, your brothers who immolated themselves took much for granted and allowed the police — the FBI — to find them and our ritual chamber in the basement. And then the mess over near Animal Control. I don’t think the authorities have put it all together yet, but we’re in danger.”

“Certainly not from the FBI?”

He shook his head. “Only if they move beyond their by-the-book, boy scout mentality, which isn’t likely given their history. The real danger, now that the police and some of the FBI people have been vocal, is the guild.”

“Guild?”

“The guild. Yes. This particular branch of the guild uses Völundr’s Hammer as its moniker. I have some thoughts on where they’ve been hiding.” Rao gestured for her to take a seat.

He strolled about the metal platform high above the floor of the plant, footfalls silent under his felt soles. Night had come and with the darkness, Rao’s comfort level increased and he became more loose than during the daylight hours.

Lali remained silent, satisfied to accept his teachings, at least for the moment. Rao had no adepts, only the acolytes, the khâu, but Lali believed she was to be his one adept.

“Information you provided has assisted me greatly in my current strategy, but I have need of more information from you.” He dropped his chin to his chest and stared at her. “Tell me, were you tasked with finding me? Tasked with learning about the Iron Thorn.”

“Of course not.” She answered without a hint of hesitation.

“Then what is the lure? I mean, what drove you to accept my summoning?”

“You. You’re fascinating.” She cocked her head and tilted it forward slightly, casting what she hoped was a glint of mischief at the powerful man.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “What draws you to the Câ Tsang?”

“To serve and learn of the nâga. Lean of the greater purpose, and seek enlightenment on the other side.” A rote answer, of course, which she sort of meant…

“Good,” he said. “But we will never achieve such if the bumbling ways of the khâu persists. You will arrange for the next sacrifice.”

“But — ”

“But nothing. Obey or be punished.” He raised his hand high above her, as if to backhand her. “Rao needs to do something about the current group of khâu.”

She winced at the thought of the coming strike, but said, “Sacrificing one or two of the khâu to the nāga would set things right through fear, would it not?”

Rao lowered his hand. Was that a smile on the man’s face, a cruel smile, a sneer perhaps. “That is an idea,” he said, “which I will consider, but I have another task for you.”

“What will you have me do?” she asked.

“Continue with your life and your job. Pay attention to the people you meet and what they discuss. When the time is right you will be provided all you need to know of the next sacrifice.”

“Yes, Rao. I seek to serve you and the Câ Tsang.”

“Excellent, Eulalia. Now go.”

 

The Spark – Snippet 06

The Spark – Snippet 06

Neither of us spoke until I could see flashes of the white walls of houses through the trees ahead of us. Then I said what I’d been thinking as I walked along behind her: “I like your tulips. My mom planted them in front of the house, and I always forget about them until they come up again in the spring. This year they hadn’t come up before I left home, though.”

“That’s nice,” May said without looking back at me.

I bent and stroked the back of Buck’s neck. I couldn’t complain. I try to be friendlier to strangers than May was being, but we don’t get many strangers on Beune. Anyway, not everybody has to be like me.

The houses at this end of Dun Add were two or three stories high. The shops on the ground floor generally spilled out onto the street. There were grocers along with a general line of the same goods as I’d seen on the fringe of the landing place; maybe a little better quality.

I didn’t have either the time or the inclination to browse much, as May strode along more briskly on the cobblestones than she had through the woods. She hadn’t been dawdling there, either.

The street was steep enough that sometimes it had steps in it, two or three and once as many as a dozen. My pack hadn’t been heavy even when I left Beune. Now that I’d eaten all the bread and cheese it was lighter still, but I’d walked a long way during the past three weeks. Besides which my weapon and shield were heavy enough that the belt I hung them from was chafing my hip bones. Well, I was almost there.

The houses were built around courtyards–occasionally a large gate was open and I could see inside. There were a few people outside. Sometimes they bowed or curtseyed to May and even nodded to me. I guess they thought I was her attendant instead of just being somebody she was giving directions to.

The girl stopped. We’d reached a terrace beyond the houses farthest up the slope. Ahead of her, ahead of us, was the castle.

The first thing I noticed was that though it was all stone, it wasn’t all the same kind of masonry. The center part was big, roughly dressed blocks, while the wings had more finish and were built with smaller stones.

The second thing I noticed was that there were eight doors just on this side, and a paved path running all the way the length of the front. In the middle of the old part was a double gate twenty feet high. It was closed, and though the leaves were wood, they were strapped with steel. There was a dusting of rust on the higher parts of the metal. Set into the right gate-leaf was a regular door covered with either polished brass or gold.

May turned her head toward me and said, “There’s the castle.” Then she started down the path to the right.

“Thank you, ma’am,” I said. Then I swallowed and said, “Ma’am? Which door do I go in to be a Champion, please?”

“Champions use the gold door,” she said without looking back again.

“Come along, Buck,” I said. I took a deep breath and walked toward the metal-plated door. I wasn’t sure that I was supposed to take Buck in that way, but I guessed there was only one way to learn.

I’d just about reached it–I was close enough to tell that it was gilded bronze–when the girl called, “Stop!”

I stopped with my hand just short of the latch. She was about where she’d been when she’d told me to use the gold door; she must’ve turned a moment after she’d tossed her directions over her shoulder.

“Ma’am?” I said. “I know I’m not a Champion, but I want to be one.”

She started toward me, then stopped with a grimace and said, “Oh, come here. I’ll show you where to go in. You didn’t seem feeble minded.”

“Ma’am, I’m not,” I said as I clucked to Buck to come toward her with me. It was an insult, but I had the feeling that she was embarrassed at her own behavior instead of looking for a chance to jab me. “I’m just arrived at Dun Add, though, and it’s really different from home.”

“What’s your name, then?” she asked. “I’m May.”

She turned when I came alongside her and we continued walking down the right front of the castle. There were people on the parapet above us and I think I heard somebody call May’s name, but she didn’t look up at them.

“I’m Pal,” I said. “I’m from Beune. And this is Buck.”

“Look, I don’t know what you’ve heard on Beune,” she said, giving me a serious look, “but it’s not easy to become a Champion. There’s testing by machines and then if you pass that, you have to fight for a place in the Hall. Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “The Leader’s raised the Champions to bring justice to all of Here. Bring it back. I want to be part of that.”

May grimaced again. Her eyes sharpened and she said, “Say, have you eaten?”

“Not in a while,” I said. “I was planning to find a place in the town after I’d gotten started with the business of joining the Company. I figured that was going to be complicated, so I started here.”

Then I said, “Ah–I have money. I’m not a beggar.”

I had a fair amount of money, thanks to Duncan paying me back. I hadn’t seen prices in Dun Add, but I figured they wouldn’t be much worse than at inns along the Road. Which were bad enough, in all conscience.

“Well, you’re here on the Jon’s business for now,” May said, “so you ought to have one meal on him at least.”

“Ma’am?” I said. “And Buck?”

She looked down. Buck waggled his tail.

“We’ll take care of him first in the stables,” she said. “And call me May, will you. ‘Ma’am’ makes me feel like I’m forty years old.”

“Thank you, May,” I said.

May led us to a door that stood ajar. An attendant sat on a stool just far enough down the passage beyond that his feet were out of the sunlight. He had a weapon but no shield. From the stiff way his left leg stuck out, I figured he was injured. Maybe he’d been a man at arms when he was younger and healthier.

He tried to get up when May came through the doorway. “No need, Carl,” she said with a breezy wave.

“Thanks, mum,” he said, settling back down. He eyed me as I followed her past, but he seemed about as interested in Buck as he was in me.

The passage was thirty feet long. There was no lighting except what came through the doorways at the ends.

They called Dun Add a castle, but I’d been thinking that it wasn’t really built to be defended. There were slots in the stone roof of this passage, though. I wouldn’t want to try forcing my way in here if there was somebody in the room above who didn’t want me to.

There was a second gate at the far end, but it’d been propped back against the courtyard wall for so long that the hinges were rusty red lumps. We walked through into a park. There were ornamental trees planted at the west end, but for the most part the open area was sod–or dirt, where it’d gotten too much wear even for grass. I saw two ball games, one of kids of both sexes and the other of solid-looking men.

“The stables are straight across,” May said, continuing to lead.

She wasn’t acting like she’d like to toss me into a glacier any more, but neither was she being the chatty/friendly sort. I appreciated what she was doing, so I let her make the rules.

The park wasn’t so crowded that we were pushing through people, but often enough we’d walk around a blanket or even a tarp raised for a sunshade. Folks called or nodded to May if they noticed her, and I got a few long looks myself. Not for anything about me or Buck, I was pretty sure.

There were six archways in the middle of the north side of the courtyard, and the wall above the arches was pierced for gratings up to within a couple feet of the top. The noise was loud even before we got to the openings, yaps and yelps and howling. No snarling fights, though.

 

The Spark – Snippet 05

The Spark – Snippet 05

CHAPTER 2: Finding My Place

I reached the line just as the clerk processed Rilk, the last person from the group I’d arrived with. The old potter hadn’t set his pack down while he waited, I guess because he struggled so hard to lift it again.

I’d helped him mornings on the Road and I’d have helped him again here, but I’d been off watching the warriors. I felt a little bad about that, but Rilk wasn’t my business either except because I tried to be courteous to other people.

The clerk looked about as beat down as Rilk did, but in case it was the weight of overseer on his back, the Herald the Gate as the steward called him. “Name and business,” he said. He didn’t raise his eyes, which meant he could see my trousers and sheepskin boots; and maybe the wooden closure of my belt that Jimsey had given me after I chased the creature back into the Waste. I’d just knotted the leather before then.

“I’m Pal of Beune,” I said, standing straight. “I’ve come to Dun Add to join the Company of Champions.”

The clerk looked up then, his eyes opening wider. He was young, not much older than me, but I could see the strain at the edges of his eyes.

I don’t know what he might’ve said next, but he didn’t have time to. The overseer jumped like I’d goosed him and shouted, “Are you mocking me, hobby? Do you think I’m just another yokel that you can jape? I’m the Herald of the Gate, and if you think you’re so funny you can just take yourself back into the Waste!”

“Sir, I’m not mocking you,” I said, keeping my voice as calm as I could. Right now I was bubbling with anger and fear too. I didn’t know what I’d done wrong, but it sounded like I might not even get into Dun Add. “I’m not the kind that does that sort of thing.”

For a moment it looked like the Herald was going to bust. I guess he didn’t know how to take me. That could happen even back home where most folks knew me or at any rate had heard about me. It’s too bad when people figure there’s got to be something underneath the words when I just tell the truth, but it’s happened enough that it doesn’t surprise me any more.

That was when the boat appeared right in the middle of the landing place. It quivered back and forth a couple times, coming into balance with Here and shifting a hair to get above the short grass.

“Oh!” the Herald said. “That’s Lord Mofflin’s boat, surely it is.”

He went bustling off toward the boat, a cylinder thirty feet long, lying on its side. “Sir?” I called after him.

The clerk grinned at me and made a mark on his notebook. He thumbed me toward the castle and said, “Good luck to you, buddy. Whatever that means for you.” Then he followed his boss, walking a little straighter than he had a moment ago.

I headed for the path that seemed to lead straightest toward the castle above. It may seem funny, but as rare as I knew boats were, I’d nonetheless seen two of them in the past.

Beune isn’t close to much of anything by the Road, but if you travel by boat it turns out to be on the way to a lot of places. That isn’t a reason to stop, of course, unless your boat needs repairs or restocking. Which at least the two I saw did; repairs and restocking, I suspect, but restocking for sure.

The first boat landed when I was only six. I’d started fiddling with the bits of Ancient artifacts that had drifted to Beune. I’d go into a trance and enter the piece, and after a while I started to fill the places with what it seemed to me that it needed. I didn’t talk to anybody about what I was doing, and I don’t know that I’d heard the word Maker.

The boatman wore black leather and had a full red beard. I thought he was God Almighty come down to Beune. It was just him and his client alone in the boat, and I know now that the client must’ve been rich enough to buy all of Beune. That was nothing to me when I was six; and tell the truth, it isn’t much to me now.

I’d have sold my soul to be the boatman, though. He superintended my neighbors as they loaded the boat’s hoppers with all sorts of things, rock and wood and corn and twenty products besides.

Now that means to me the fellow didn’t have a clue as to what was missing and was hoping the boat’s automatic systems would find enough in the hoppers to let them limp to wherever they were going–or at least to a node with different selections where they could try again. Then to me it was all wonder and wonderful, though.

I was fourteen the second time a boat landed, though, and by then I think I could’ve done them some good if they’d let me. They didn’t, of course; I was a kid and a hick, and they–a fine lady with her maid and her fancy boy; their boatman was less impressive than the first one I’d seen–had me chased away. I think the gigolo would’ve clouted me if the maid hadn’t grabbed his arm.

They loaded up with wood after tossing out the decomposed wood that’d gotten them this far. Though they wouldn’t let me aboard the boat, it was easy to get hold of some of the waste and check it in a trance. The boat had drawn out the carbon.

Well, the wood the strangers bought would give them that; father and some of our neighbors made nice money by selling brush that was too small to build with and too prickly to be anything but bedding at the bottom of a haystack to let the fodder breathe. Thing is, we’ve got a thick seam of coal on Beune, and that would’ve provided the carbon in a load that would’ve packed might tighter.

I was willing to bet that I could’ve done something about the processor that was making the boat go through carbon so fast too, but the only one I’d have given the time of day to was the maid. I wasn’t sure who owned the boat, the lady or the boatman himself just hiring it to her, but it sure wasn’t the maid.

As I looked at the choice of paths now, I heard a woman with a pleasant voice call, “I’m back, George,” behind me as I neared the trees. I turned. A really pretty girl with pale blond hair had come in from the Road. She had a three-colored cat in the crook of her left arm and a basket of tulips in that hand. She was waving her right arm to the Herald and his clerk.

“We’ve got you, Miss May,” the clerk called back, and the Herald himself even turned and swept off his puffy hat with a bow. I wondered which one of them was named George.

I paused for a moment, because she was coming my way. I waited till she looked around and noticed me. “Ma’am,” I said. “I’m new here. Can you tell me which of these paths best leads to the castle?”

“You can follow me, I suppose,” she said, and her tone wasn’t much more friendly that the set look on her face. I guess a girl so pretty must have a lot of men pestering her.

I didn’t let it bother me, just said, “Thank you, ma’am,” and followed as she swept past me. Buck looked up at her cat and it was giving him the eye, but Buck’s well behaved.

Miss May’s dress was the same as girls on Beune wear in weather this warm: a knee length skirt and short sleeves. The waist was pinched just a bit by a fabric belt, enough to give it shape without being a couple layers of cloth tight against the skin. Thing is, back home the dresses were wool, maybe with a little embroidery on the sleeves or neckline. May wore silk, and I couldn’t tell if the light peach color was dyed or the silk came that way from the worm.

The trees were nice, horse chestnuts about thirty feet tall. They were in flower, too. May took me along a path that forked twice, first to the left and the second time to the right. I didn’t know where the other branches would’ve led me–I couldn’t really get lost in a belt a hundred yards thick–but I was glad to have a guide.

I stayed a pace behind her, keeping a bit off to the left. There was plenty of room for us to walk side by side, but she pretty clearly didn’t want that to happen and I’m not one to push in where I’m not wanted.

 

Iron Angels – Snippet 26

Iron Angels – Snippet 26

A piece of cloth caught in the light. He patted himself down, searching for the cheap pen he always kept on him. The exact pocket depended entirely on the quality of his attire and the type of people he’d be dealing with on any given day. In this case he found the pen lying flat in the bottom of one of the pockets in his cargo pants. The pants were a hard habit to break, especially in warm weather when wearing a jacket of any sort was out of place and appeared odd to do so.

He inched for the pile, avoiding any contact with the mutilated corpse of a dead person — if that’s what it was — with his feet or hands. That gave him some thoughts on the matter. Could a man do such a thing? Probably, with the right tools, but why would someone go through this sort of trouble to mangle a corpse beyond recognition? He didn’t want to believe these incidents were anything other than a murder or some bizarre death at the hands of an animal.

He bit his lip and extended the pen toward the bit of cloth he’d noticed. But so far as he knew, there weren’t any animals that killed like this. Not in North America, anyway. The pen poked the cloth and caught in a fold, allowing for some leverage to pull the piece free of the mess.

“Well,” said Temple’s voice from behind, startling him. He almost lost his balance as he was precariously reaching for the cloth with his pen.

“Holy shit.” Jasper rocked back on his heels and took a few breaths, allowing the weight of his body to rest against the shed. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry. I was just thinking about something I read years ago, when I was a kid.”

“Okay, go on — anything to take my mind off this.”

“I was fascinated by certain types of sea creatures — ”

“I don’t think this was caused by chicken of the sea or anything.” Jasper grinned. Jokes were good for times like this.

“You’re a funny guy. Ever consider a career in comedy?” Temple paused a moment. “Anyway. Don’t sea horses digest their food outside their stomach? Or maybe another sort of sea creature, starfish?”

“What? You’ve got to be joking.”

She was back to her no-nonsense stare. “Why couldn’t a land animal exist capable of the same mutilation, and we, for some reason, scared the thing off? I mean, it’s possible, right?”

“I don’t know.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. The scent returned, mingling with the burnt odor of the petrochemical tinged air. “At this point, I’m all for calling in the locals and letting them button up this scene.”

“After Vance obtains some samples, right?”

Jasper sighed. “Yeah, but you know what? I’d like to try to grab some sleep tonight, if you and your partner Vance can do without me.”

“All right. He’ll be here soon. But what are you doing behind the shed, anyway?”

“A piece of cloth, perhaps some identifying clothing or who knows, maybe I’ll find a wallet or some identification in this mess.”

“You’re not thinking of picking through the pile,” Temple’s top lip curled upward on one side, “are you?”

“The thought crossed my mind, but maybe you’re right. Vance can get in there, if his stomach holds up. Didn’t he almost toss his lunch after coming face to face with the last pile of meat?”

“There was no almost — he did.”

“Right.” Jasper smacked and licked his lips, attempting to stave off the dryness in his mouth and was rewarded with a taste of copper, as if he’d bit his lip. “I wish Vance would just get here already.”

The back door of the old man’s house rattled. “Damn foreigners, so pushy.”

“I’m with them.” Vance stuck his Bureau credentials in the old man’s face, practically crammed down his throat. Jasper couldn’t tell if the tone was Vance’s natural lilt, or if he used a remonstrative voice.

“He’s okay!” Jasper shouted. “Please, Mister Yablonski, go back inside.”

“I phoned the police,” Yablonski said. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“Excellent. I was just about to do that, thank you very much.” Jasper turned away from the old man. “Vance? Whatever you’re going to do, please do so with the utmost alacrity. Sleep is calling.”

Vance came over to Jasper and frowned. “Sleep? That was what I was trying to do.” His hair was tousled and doing a pretty good job of defying gravity in a few spots.

“Payback, my friend.”

“So we’re friends, now that you need something from me.”

“We haven’t identified the victim, but these remains resemble the mangled corpse near animal control,” Temple said.

“An idea popped into my mind as I fell off to sleep,” Vance said. “The first corpse, the mangled one, reminded me of something being digested, but on the outside, like a — ”

“A sea creature,” Jasper finished. “Yes, Temple thought of the same thing, but I think that’s a little too far-fetched.”

“Just a thought. Where is this one?” Vance asked, eyebrows raised.

“Behind the shed, but a tight fit, so only take what you absolutely need.”

“And try to figure out who this person was. We think it may be the person who kidnapped the dead girl at the accident scene over near the Euclid Hotel,” Jasper added.

Vance disappeared behind the shed. Seconds later, retching could be heard.

“Please tell me you’re not contaminating the evidence with your vomit.” Temple placed her hands on her hips.

“I’m — I’m fine. Almost lost my stomach’s contents, but I’m good here,” Vance said, “I’m fine.”

“Biology has given me a thought,” Jasper said.

“Oh?” Temple arched an eyebrow.

“I have a buddy over at the University of Chicago, he’s a biologist. Perhaps he could enlighten us a bit on this, and if he can’t, I’m sure he has a roster of professors that might, and plenty of books and other research materials available. I’ll call him in the morning. Maybe he’ll meet with us tomorrow.”

“What do you think, Vance?” Temple leaned toward the shed and shouted.

“Ugh, err — fine.” Vance coughed. “I’m okay.”

“So, yes? We’ll go to the university?”

“Yes. Now please don’t make me open my mouth anymore.”

Vance’s coughing continued throughout his examination and evidence collection. No definitive answers existed other than this mangled corpse resembled the first one, only not as pink, as if retaining more of the red in the blood.

The East Chicago police arrived and cordoned off the backyard with rolls and rolls of crime scene tape and agreed to watch over the scene until morning.

“I’m going to have to call in our Evidence Response Team, I’m afraid,” Jasper said. “This is becoming too much for us to handle alone.”

Temple nodded. “Fine.”

“Hopefully the senior team leader won’t be too much of a dick when he shows up. ASAC Masters will have to lean on him to make this happen.”

“Whatever,” Temple said. “We collected everything we needed from here. Right, Vance?”

When Vance emerged, his face was a shade or two more pale than when he’d gone behind the shed and his forehead sported a damp sheen. His black hair lay matted on his head, soaked with sweat.

“Let’s go, there’s plenty to do in the morning. You brought means of preserving all the evidence you collected without a need to go back to the office? Jasper asked.

“I did.” Vance licked his lips and frowned. He must have gotten the same taste of copper Jasper received.

So Jasper’s sleep didn’t matter, but a few hours were better than nothing.

 

Chain of Command – Snippet 18

Chain of Command – Snippet 18

Chapter Nine

7 December 2133 (two days later) (fourteen days from K’tok orbit)

PLAN OF THE DAY

USS Puebla, DDR-11

7 December 2133

LCDR Delmar P. Huhn, USN

COMMANDING OFFICER

LT Samuel M. Bitka, USNR

EXECUTIVE OFFICER

Uniform of the Day           Officers:                      White shipsuit

Chiefs:             Khaki shipsuit

All Others:      Blue shipsuit

0000         Mid Watch drills and training

0500         Breakfast

0530         BLUE Watch relieves RED, LT Goldjune OOD, LT(JG) Ramsey DEO

0600         Morning Colors

0630         Morning drills and training

1100         Lunch

1130         WHITE watch relieves BLUE, ENS Lee OOD, LT(JG) Sung DEO

1200         Afternoon drills and training

1700         Supper

1730         RED watch relieves WHITE, LT(JG) Filipenko OOD, LT Hennessey DEO

1800         Boat’s company muster for inspection

1830         All hands General Quarters. Anticipated rendezvous with Task Force 1

2000         Anticipated stand-down from General Quarters

2300         Late Supper

2330         BLUE watch relieves RED, LT Goldjune OOD, LT(JG) Ramsey DEO

NOTES

MORNING COLORS: All hands not on watch will assemble for morning colors. Colors will be presented at half-mast in honor of Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day.
DRILLS: Departments will drill on-duty watch personnel as follows

OPERATIONS:            Navigation by HRVS optics only

Reestablishing lost communication tight link in battle situation

TACTICAL:      Detection of hostile craft with HRVS optics using stellar occlusion method

Simulated target engagement at high closing rate vectors

ADMIN:           Casualty clearance

ENGINEERING:          No drills. All available personnel tasked to damage repair

TRAINING: Department heads will insure personnel coming off watch immediately spend at least one hour on review training on their MOS and one hour mastering their next grade or a parallel MOS in their department. Review. Train up. Train across.
TASK FORCE RENDEZVOUS: All drills and training suspended during the Evening Watch due to rendezvous with Combined Task Force One. All hands will go to General Quarters following inspection.
CREW APPEARANCE: Crew to remove all facial hair and non-permanent ornamentation by inspection at 1800, haircuts high and tight. We will be holo-conferencing with other craft of the task force from this evening forward, including a large number of WestEuro craft, and every member of the crew must present a professional and squared-away appearance at all times. Don’t make us look bad in front of the Europeans.
P. Huhn

LCDR, USN

Sam read the Plan of the Day again and shook his head. Two years ago he never would have imagined he’d be where he was, in the middle of an interstellar war, writing a Plan of the Day about haircuts.

He had never imagined that he would be in the first combatant action of the war, nor in the first craft damaged by such action, nor in the forward screen of the first offensive space task force assembled in Earth history, nor that he would suffer loss so early, nor that it would affect him so deeply that he would not be able to just put it from his mind and carry on. He did carry on, but it was as if Jules’s ghost silently accompanied him, watching everything he did. He had seen her three times, fleetingly, out of the corner of his eye, after that first time when her presence had unnerved him.

Most of all, he never imagined that almost a week into the war it would remain so ordinary, so routine, as if that first burst of terror and violence, which had lasted less than half an hour, had been simply a dream. He never imagined that when the vagaries of war catapulted him into a position of responsibility for which he felt entirely unprepared, and while hurtling toward what could be the climactic battle of the first campaign in the war, he would spend his time filling out forms, posting plans of the day, and overseeing the minutiae of crew training and discipline. Was this what war was really like?

“Haircuts, Bitka? What the–?”

Sam looked up from his workstation to see Marina Filipenko, the new Tac Boss, floating in the open doorway.

“Yeah, haircuts.  You want the Euros to laugh at us for looking like a pirate crew?”

She gave a soft tug on the doorframe and coasted into the XO’s office. “So instead they’ll laugh at us for looking like a bunch of circus geeks. Jesus, what’ll he come up with next?”

Sam sighed and stretched. He’d argued with Huhn for fifteen minutes about this stupid order but hadn’t been able to talk him out of it, not that Filipenko needed to know that.

“Just do it, okay? And get some perspective: nobody’s life is going to be shattered by a haircut. While you’re here, what’s the progress on getting Ensign Robinette certified to stand watch as Officer of the Deck?” Sam had to make a conscious effort not to call the young ensign The Jughead.

“Slow. He’s trying but he’s got a long way to go.” Filipenko looked away and her attention seemed to wander.

“Something bothering you, Filipenko?”

“Bothering me? We’re up to our ears in a war, taking on the largest military power of the most technologically advanced race in known space, and we’ve got a weak spot in the crew roster.” She paused and looked at him, eyebrows raised. “You know who I mean.”

She meant the captain. Sam’s first instinct was to bark her down, but he’d done a lot of barking in the last couple days. He took a deep breath instead.

“You want a coffee? Fresh brewed, right here in my dispenser.”

She shook her head.

“It’s been a lot to absorb in just a few days,” Sam said after a moment, “a lot to get used to. You don’t need to tell me that. But the person you’re talking about is going to be fine–maybe not the easiest guy in the fleet to work with but so what?  Best thing you can do about him is concentrate on doing your own job, okay? Stand one watch at a time.”

“I’m not talking about being easy to work with, or this haircut silliness,” she said. “I’m talking about freezing on the bridge in the first attack. I’m talking about who made the call to realign the boat.”

Sam felt his face flush. He’d thought that was only between Captain Huhn and himself. If the crew were talking about it, that was trouble.

“Since the cloud missed us anyway it wouldn’t have made a difference, but I think you have things mixed up, Filipenko. I recommended realigning the boat–which was my responsibility as TAC Boss–and asked the Captain for permission. He gave it and we realigned. End of story.”

“That’s not what Barb Lee told me. She said he froze and you gave the order. It’ll be on the bridge holo-log.”