Dark Age - Patriot's Stand Part 4

Grace rested her hands on the table and leaned into the room as she might against the wind of a spring hurricane. "For eight hundred years we've walked this planet. There's aren't a lot of us," she said, standing tall. "You all know why. The air stinks, or so off-worlders tell us. It's too hot and dry, they tell us, except when a hurricane's blowing or a thunderstorm is dropping hail and maybe a tornado." That brought a familiar chuckle from around the table.

"But it'sour land. The landour parents mined or farmed before us. This is the land we raise our kids on aswe choose. Now this guy comes in here and offers to buy us out and load us up with a lot of strangers.

He promises a wonderful business boom, but, oh, by the way, you'll have to pay for some goons to protect you from some other goons.

"d.a.m.n it, we've faced attackers before. Our great-great-greats stood up to them and drove them off-and people learned that attacking Alkalurops was not a good idea. Even the drunk-on-heaven Jihad freaks didn't come here."

She turned slowly, letting her eyes make contact with the people scattered around the tables. "We may not have much, but we protect it.We protect it. Not some hireling. Not somebody with a bone to pick with someone else who just might come over here to pick that bone-and end up picking our bones.

"Alkalurops takes care of its own. We don't ask anyone to take care of us, and we sure don't take care of anyone else. I say take this off-world proposal and stuff it up his off-world a.s.s." The room erupted in cheers, just as Grace had hoped it would. She stood there, enjoying for a moment the rush that came from knowing she was doing right and a slew of people agreed with her. It was a good five minutes before Garry even tried to hammer the room to silence. But as he did hammer, she waved down the ruckus, and the room went back to quiet.

"I guess that shows a pretty solid majority supporting you," Garry said. "Can I ask a few questions about your proposal?"

"Yes," Grace said.

"Make d.a.m.n sure they're questions," came from down the table, "or we may just march up there and give her that gavel." That got the hall rumbling. Grace waved them to quiet, and most did.

"Thank you, Grace," Garry said, sounding as though he meant it. "My question is, how do we defend ourselves? Our Legate's dead. Most ranking Constabulary officers didn't survive the raid."

"We got our b.u.t.ts kicked," came from the foot of the table.

"Not to put too fine a point on it," Garry said, "but we did get our b.u.t.ts kicked. I haven't heard-how did the militia do around Falkirk? Did you call it out?"

"I led it," Grace said, "and we got our b.u.t.ts kicked."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I thought that with you saying we should defend ourselves, you might have been more successful."

"No, Garry," Grace admitted. "If there hadn't been a hill to our rear, we'd have been ma.s.sacred like everyone else. We were lucky."

"So, are you planning on all of us getting lucky like you next time?" Dev shot at her.

Garry shushed his friend, but then looked at Grace. "He does have a point. How are we supposed to defend ourselves?"

Grace took a moment to organize her thoughts, but the experience of talking Falkirk's town meeting through this had been solid preparation. "I don't know about the rest of you, but when I need something I don't have-equipment, skills, whatever-I hire it. We haven't needed fighting skills, so we don't have any. There are those who do. I say we hire them. Hire them to teach us how to take care of ourselves, and to fight side by side with us."

"You think you can do that?" asked Garry. A sincere question this time.

"I was on my way to the merc camps on Galatea when I stopped in here. Falkirk is for sending a team to Galatea. Have them look over the mercenary units there and hire a cadre to train us and fight alongside us."

"I don't know if that's the way the mercs work," Garry said.

"Maybe they didn't before, but then, we didn't used to have raiders dropping in. Times are changing. I'll find mercs who are ready to change with the times and train us to protect ourselves."

"Aren't BattleMechs different from our IndustrialMechs?" came from the Guild Master for 'Mech Sales and Service.

"Yes. We captured a hovertank at Falkirk," Grace began.

"You captured a hovertank," ran through the hall. At her side even Garry muttered it.

"Yes, the Navajo set traps," she said, indicating Chato beside her, "and caught a hovertank. The thing had armor tougher than anything we have, and it had sensors that go way beyond what any of us had ever seen. n.o.body said taking care of ourselves was simple or easy. But we've been doing it for hundreds of years. Let's not stop now."

Garry nodded, then spoke into the quiet. "Not to sound unwilling, but I have to ask you the same question you asked Mr. Santorini. What will this cost us?"

"And to quote him, this doesn't come cheap. The major land owners around Falkirk promised to ante up ten percent of last year's profits."

And so began the hard part. Negotiations took the rest of the day and most of the night, but the next morning, when Grace, Chato and Jobe checked out of the hostel and drove out to the s.p.a.ceport, she felt good. Not everyone had anted up, but a lot of money would be coming in.

As they turned toward the port after the long climb up West Canyon Road, Jim Wilson buzzed her on the Net. "Can you meet me at that hamburger joint along s.p.a.ceport Road?" he requested.

"You didn't think I was going to let one of my trucks sit in the parking lot for the months you were gone?" he said as Jobe parked the rig next to where Wilson stood with his son.

"I couldn't see you paying the bill for that," Grace shot back as she got out. "I figured I'd see you before I left."

"And you were going off-planet with just the change in your pocket?" Wilson said, raising an eyebrow.

"How are you set for cash?"

Grace wasn't broke, but she had been wondering how her credit would hold up on a long trip, what with the HPG breakdown.

"I should be able to get by," she told him.

"Good, then maybe you won't have to use this," he said, producing a smart card. "This is paid in advance and issued by the First Bank of Galatea. My old man set up a couple of these on planets we did business with. I don't think he trusted the HPG. Me, I figured he was just old-fashioned. This ought to cover the personal bills for all three of you."

"I can't take that," Grace said.

"I hope you don't say that to everything I brought," Wilson said, " 'cause not all of it's mine. Here's a gift from the folks along the Donga River." He pulled out a small bag and tossed it to Jobe, who emptied it into his hand. A small fortune in cut diamonds poured out.

"Good lord," Grace said.

"Very good," Jobe said. "I will thank my senior wife for doing as she promised she would."

"Huh?" Grace got out.

"Ghome said she would get donations so we could pay soldiers to defend us, soldiers to protect us."

Jobe smiled. "She told me that before I left. I told her it would not be necessary. We warriors could stand against mere raiders. You can see what she thinks of me."

"Sound more like she wants you home," Grace said.

"That would not be Ghome. Maybe Bhana, my second wife, but not Ghome."

"What do you have from White River?" Chato asked. A second sack spilled jade, turquoise and emeralds. "Good; very good. My sister did not let us be shamed among the others."

"Was I the only one who didn't plan on buying mercs until I got my b.u.t.t kicked?" Grace asked the sky.

"Include me in that fine company," Wilson said.

"It's been a long time," Jobe said, "since you Irish, you Scots, went roaming on Terra, but still you walk as if nothing can defeat you. Some of us remember what it was like to be among your defeated. Now we fight side by side, but sometimes it is better to remember that you can lose. Is that not so, Chato?"

"We still sing the old songs around the winter campfires. You stay inside and watch your vids too much."

Wilson shook his head. "Well, as much as I hate to admit it, there's also Navajo and Donga River jewelry in the truck, enough to fill a strongbox. I've collected money from folks around Falkirk-enough to help with the first few months of the contract. I'm buying a major chunk of the hydrocarbons in the cargo of this DropShip. Even if the credit system is bonkers, you won't be without some serious cash once this cargo is sold on Galatea."

"Thanks for the help."

"I've been following the goings-on at the Guild Hall for the last two days. I'd say I had the easy job.

Take care out there among all those off-worlders."

"Strange how that works, Jim," said Grace. "You go to some other planet and it's full of off-worlders."

"Chato, Jobe, Grace, you all take care," Wilson said, offering his hand. His son stood beside him, a newer copy of what life was like on Alkalurops.

This is worth fighting for,Grace told herself.I will find a way to defend what is ours.

3

Steerage-Cla.s.s Accommodations DropShipStar of Dyev En route from Alkalurops to Galatea 18 April 3134

TheStar of Dyev was the kind of tramp DropShip that bothered to stop at planets like Alkalurops.

Tramp ships had cargo holds, crew quarters and maybe some spare cabins for pa.s.sengers.Star of Dyev had only one spare, so Grace would have to share tight quarters with Jobe and Chato.

"Too bad I did not bring my second wife," Jobe said. "This could have been a fun time."

"I thought your second wife was the one who talked too much and argued even more," Grace said.

"Yes, she does that. But she can be very nice when she chooses to be," he recalled with a sigh.

Chato handed him a reader. "I downloaded everything about 'Mechs, battles and the old wars on Alkalurops. Most of it is political commentary, but there are a few schematics and tech readouts. Maybe if we put our heads together, we can make sense of what's been written."

"Warriors who survive battles have nothing but boasts," Jobe said.

"At least they survived," Chato pointed out.

"Gentlemen, we're stuck in this tin can for the next month," Grace reminded them. "Let's not kill one another too early. I understand the crew has set up a pool on who dies first and how soon."

"That is inconsiderate of them," Jobe said.

"I thought you would bet on anything," Chato said.

"Yes. That is what I mean. It is most inconsiderate of them not to offer us a chance to join the pool."

"Scan your reader," Grace said, ducking into her bunk.

Liftoff was noisy and heavy. The trip out was at a solid 1G acceleration. That was fine, but the company! What was it with men? They made the cabin unbearable! At first she joked about the betting pool, but after two weeks, she was ready to start her own by asking the crew to come up with creative new ways for her two companions to kill each other. Grace took to long walks in the cargo hold to read about war and avoid the warring men.

But the information in the reader left her more frustrated. Most of the histories were just glosses: Someone did this; someone else did that; someone won because of this other factor, which left Grace wondering if battle leaders really controlled what caused them to win. Other accounts about a great man's BattleMech were so technically detailed that Grace could not tell what was going on. She'd pushed a MiningMech most of her adult life, and Jobe had done the same for either an Agro or MiningMech as well, but neither of them could figure out how these MechWarriors handled their machines. Was driving a BattleMech all that different from driving Pirate?

Grace felt as if she was trying to understand mining operations by reading one of the journals she subscribed to. Yes, she learned a lot from them, but if Pop hadn't spent years teaching her everything he knew and her mom hadn't insisted she sit her young b.u.t.t down and learn all the basic stuff, most of it would have gone right over her head, the way this was.

"Who can teach me the basics?" she asked the huge gray hydrocarbon tank she was sitting under. It had no answer.

s.p.a.cesick, Grace watched on the mess deck screen as theStar of Dyev buried itself in a docking collar of the JumpShipBrandon's Leviathan, also known as "Big Lug." They were thirty-seven days out from Allabad: twenty-eight days climbing to this jump point at 1G, then twiddling their weightless thumbs for nine days waiting for a JumpShip to come by. JumpShips running between important points like Terra or Skye kept to schedules. Ships to out-of-the-way places like Alkalurops maintained a looser schedule.

This one had been delayed four jumps back, waiting for a business deal to go down. The story around theDyev was that the Big Lug would be back on schedule in another nine jumps. Until then DropShips could just drift and pa.s.sengers puke. Maybe the reputed stink of Alkalurops' air wasn't the only reason big companies went elsewhere; the erratic JumpShip schedule was a real deterrent. If LCI moved its headquarters here, that might change. And that would probably lead to a whole lot of other changes.

Grace didn't much care for all that change.

Nine days later Big Lug's jump sail was recharged and Grace was up on all the news of the Sphere. She knew who had divorced whom on what thrilling vid. She knew what important people had been found sleeping in the wrong beds. Oh, and there seemed to have been a big fight on Terra. Specifics on that one would have required paying for some talking head's opinion. Grace saved her money. That even ancient Terra was the scene of fighting was all she needed to know. Things were bad all over. Sick of waiting, if not sick of weightlessness, Grace, Chato and Jobe were in their tiny cabin, waiting for the jump.

A knock at the door was followed a second later by a s.p.a.cer sailing his weightless body in. "Cap'n wants you to take some sleeping pills. Jumpsickness can be a real mess. People who sleep through it are better off," he said, handing pills all around and a bulb of water.

Chato and Jobe dutifully took their meds, but Grace just smiled nicely, palmed the pill, and took a long swig of water. As a rule, she did not take any pill until she read the full list of possible side effects. But being a woman, she knew how to smile and let a man think he had won.

Besides, she'd heard that jumps gave the best hallucinations this side of banned drugs. Be nice to see them legally.

Grace kept her eyes closed as the countdown to jump reached zero. The men snored noisily as she'd discovered they always did. She felt a lurch, got a minor aurora show on the inside of her eyelids, and seemed to be pushed against the restraints holding her to the bunk. Nothing much else. She wondered who she could talk to about getting her money back.

There was a jiggle at the cabin's lock, and the door opened on its noisy hinges. Grace started to look, but something about the way the hairs were standing up on the back of her neck told her that lying still was the better option. Sneakers sc.r.a.ped on a wall as someone pushed off. She heard a thump as that same someone hit her locker. When a key started jiggling in its lock, she slit her eyes open. The s.p.a.cer who had given them the pills was going through her underwear drawer. He lifted the sack of diamonds with a happy sigh.

"What the h.e.l.l are you doing?" Grace demanded.

"Huh," was the only answer she got as the guy grabbed the other sack and pushed off for the door.

Grace hit the quick-release on her bunk harness and lunged for him. He batted her away, and she bounced off the wall screaming, "Stop, thief!"

The guys slept through it all. "Sleeping pill in a pig's eye," Grace said as she steadied herself and discovered her inner ear really had taken a couple of rolls during the jump. Reeling, she pushed for the door and spotted the s.p.a.cer headed aft. "Stop! Somebody get that s.p.a.cer!" she shouted and took off after him, not nearly as quickly as she wanted to.

Her pursuit consisted of bouncing from one side of the hall-or as the s.p.a.cers called it, pa.s.sageway-to the other wall, or bulkhead. d.a.m.n-why did every Guild have to have its own set of words for the same stuff? "Stop, thief!" meant the same thing everywhere, so she kept shouting it as the guy went through the bulkhead at the end of the hall, closed the hatch, and dogged it.

A voice came from the speaker above the hatch. "What's all this ruckus?"

"That s.p.a.cer just stole my diamond collection!" Grace yelled, stumbling up to the hatch and starting to work it.

"What s.p.a.cer?"

"The one the captain sent to give us sleeping pills."

"I did no such thing," came a new voice. "What s.p.a.cer did this?"