The Amtrack Wars - Earth Thunder Part 81

The following weekend, Steve found himself crossing the railyard towards Bull Jefferson's personal train. A 4-6-2 loco and tender hauling three luxury coaches and a long guard's van that housed the Mute staff and a kitchen capable of providing three meals a day for the pa.s.sengers.

Steve pointed to the flatcar that was. .h.i.tched to the front buffers of the loco. 'What's that for?"

Fran threw him an odd look. 'In case of accidents." She exchanged familiar greetings with the driver and firemen as they pa.s.sed the cab.

Both wore Union hats and striped bib overalls and were clearly having a great time.

'They family?"

'Yes." Fran stopped as she reached the steps to the centre wagon.

'They're both cousins. Not everyone's crazy about trains, but those that are take turns to man the footplate." She grasped the side rails and climbed in.

'Come on - time to meet Dad."

Steve - who had been steeling himself for this moment since the meeting had been announced - took a deep breath and followed.

Fran had already explained that the coaches were fitted out in a style inspired by the furnishings of the white colonial mansions. They were certainly different to the harsh functionality of the wagon-trains.

The centre carriage was one big room with a conference table and chairs at one end, deep b.u.t.toned leather banquettes and comfortable armchairs at the other, and there was even a small counter with decanters of wine and gla.s.ses racked on the wall behind. The floor was carpeted and the walls panelled with polished wood which rose to meet an ornately carved cornice. Two shallow crystal light bowls hung from the white ceiling, and there were smaller fittings on the walls between the brocade curtains that fringed the six large windows.

The antique decor contrasted oddly with the clothes of the occupants, who were dressed in open-necked camouflage fatigues, or silver-grey jumpsuits - like Steve and Fran. The only difference was that most people on board appeared to be two-, three- and four-star generals.

Everybody looked round but only Bull Jefferson rose from the head of the table as Fran ushered Steve in. He wasn't overly tall but he had broad shoulders and looked fit and strong. A tough customer with a bullet-headed crewcut going grey at the temples and a deceptively pleasant smile.

'h.e.l.lo, honey -' Bull gave his daughter a shoulder pat and friendly peck on the cheek.

'Dad- this is Captain Brickman."

Two deep-set grey eyes drilled into Steve like lasers as he stiffened into a salute.

'Pleased to meet you, son. It's Steve - right?"

'Yes, sir!" He'd always fancied he had a strong grip, but Bull's handshake was a real bone-crusher.

'Welcome aboard." He turned to the only other captain in the room.

'Tell Torn we're ready to roll."

The captain left. Bull introduced Steve to the other top bra.s.s around the table and each one rose in turn to greet him with a brief handshake.

The three most important were: John Adams Jefferson, Commander-in-Chief of the Wagon-Train Division -CINC-TRAIN himself. The top Trail-Blazer; Andrew Jackson Jefferson, C-in-C Military Engineering Division - whose men actually built and serviced the wagon-trains, and Zachary Taylor Jefferson, current Head of the Design Bureau of MED - which had originally created the wagon-train and was still engaged in a rolling programme of modifications and improvements.

And they were all related to Bull. John Adams was a brother; the other two were cousins.

Bull steered Steve into the seat at the opposite end of the table where everyone could see him, and resumed his place with Fran immediately to his left. 'Okay, Steve. I've got the gist of your story from Fran, but I'd like to hear it again in your own words." He saw Steve's reaction. 'You have my a.s.surance that nothing you say here today will get back to AMEXICO.

Y'understand?"

'Yes, sir." The train started with a series of jerks as the couplings tightened and the buffers collided, then it moved slowly out of the railyard.

'Okay. Take us through it from where you put Clearwater on Red River to the action on board The Lady - and don't miss out what you told Fran about the explosives."

Steve gave them what they wanted, editing the story so that he was no longer the prime mover for the attack on Red River. As he now told it, the idea to draw the Mutes into a rescue attempt had came from Karlstrom to Malone and his renegades. He was merely the hardworking go-between building on the links he had already forged with the M'Calls. Links which were now fragile because Cadillac was no longer sure he could be trusted.

He re-lived the moment when he and 'Malone' reached the train, seconds before the M'Calls launched their attack with a series of explosions that had immobilised The Lady and crippled its defensive systems, and took his audience up to the time when he had been flown off on Karlstrom's orders to Red River, while The Lady's crew made a last desperate effort to hold back the invading horde of Mutes. And he repeated his suspicions about the type of explosives that had been used in the attack and where they might have come from.

When he finished, his hosts exchanged thoughtful glances and muttered amongst themselves. Outside the windows, the overground stretched away into the distance, muted tints of grey, brown and yellow under a pale wintry sky.

Steve sat there, not knowing whether they were going to turn on him and expose his duplicity before throwing him under the train, or award him a Gold Merit Star. But n.o.body tore into him. Fran sent a 'Well Done'

signal with her eyes, and Bull's aide asked him if he'd like a drink.

Steve asked for a KornGold - a tangy synthetic orange-fiavouredcordial.

The generals ordered the more potent Southern Comfort and stood up to stretch their legs.

n.o.body in the wagon appeared to have the slightest suspicion that there was a murderer sitting in their midst. Someone who had helped slaughter Hartmann and his execs - Buck McDonnell and the others - in an unforgivable but necessary act of betrayal. Talking about it again had made Steve wonder how he managed to sleep at night with so much blood on his hands. The blood of friends as well of enemies ....

Bull heightened the colour in his cheeks with a generous shot of grain alchohol,land laid his folded arms on the table. 'Thank you, son. We appreciate your frankness in this matter. Let me give you some more background on why we asked you to come on this ride. And this too is strictly between us, okay?"

'Absolutely, sir."

'Last spring, CINC-TRAIN had a mutiny on their hands. Yeah, I know what you're thinking - inconceivable.

The crews called it a protest, but technically it was a mutiny." He motioned John Adams to take up the story.

'Only Red River stayed in line. Basically what they wanted was official recognition that there was such a thing as Mute magic. But they also demanded a relaxation in certain disciplinary measures - the removal of ASE's from all trains, and elimination of judicial sanctions against crews who failed to achieve their operational targets.

'The protest was quiet, orderly, contained within the division and the whole thing was settled inside forty-eight hours with the aid of a closed-circuit video address by the P-G. As to whether or not any of the concessions we made were justified is immaterial. The point is, demands were made and - more importantly - this whole thing blew up without warning. Internal security totally failed to pick up on this.

You can imagine how this made us look."

Yeah, thought Steve. Like a bunch ofBull cut in. 'One of the demands was for the reinstatement of the executive officers of The Lady, led by your old boss, Commander Hartmann. It went against the grain but we agreed - and that put us in an even bigger hole when AMEXICO decided to use The Lady as a decoy."

'And dressed her up as Red River .... ' 'That's right. We ain't never gonna know how those M'Call Mutes managed to get close enough to plant those explosives under that wagon-train but if Hartmann's crew had been on the ball it could never had happened. That night watch must have been sleepin' on the job. That's the only answer. Whichever way it was, it pointed up even further the woeful state of on-board discipline. It wasn't just sloppy. It was criminally fuggin'

negligent!

Okay, so they paid the price - but once again it's CINC-TRAIN who ends up holding the bag - for a decision made by Karlstrom and the PG!

'But that isn't all!" continued Bull. He pointed to his cousins.

'Andrew here oversees the construction of our wagon-trains and Zach is in charge of the Design Bureau. Those explosions didn't just cripple The Lady, they showed up every design fault and constructional weakness of the current model and d.a.m.n near blew these boys' careers away!

Right, Zack?"

'Yehh! Only it wasn't through lack of foresight on our part! The prototypes were built way before my time, but there's nothing in the original specifications about making the wagons capable of withstanding explosive charges."

'Right,' growled Andrew Jackson, C-in-C Engineering.