They Also Serve: A Jump Universe Novel Part 2

The shuttle dropped away from Second Chance, heading for a small village they'd studied thoroughly. It looked quiet, was a good distance from the center of everything...and closest to the vanished mountain. If anyone knew the situation here, somebody in that burg ought to. At least Ray hoped so.

Jeff Sterling stood knee-deep in the middle of the stream, swishing a pan of bottom sand around as he dripped acid into the water. The pan's contents glittered in a kaleidoscope of colors he studied through a.s.say goggles. Yep, there was metal here: copper, iron, zinc, gallium, chromium, nickel, and, of course, silicon. Every metal needed to build a high-tech civilization. It was just hard to build much when the metals were in such minute quant.i.ties. He upended the pan in disgust. Everything here, and nothing. The story of his life.

A double peal of thunder brought his head up to an empty blue sky; no storms were expected this week. Still, this far back into the foothills, you had to be careful. A downpour far upstream in the morning could send a flash flood charging down to ruin your whole afternoon. No clouds, either out on the plains or visible over the mountains. Two thunders, close together. It meant something; danged if he could remember what. He took two steps toward the bank where Old Ned sat under a tree, keeping an eye on the horses. Not much for talking, but he'd taken Jeff's money and good care of the animals.

Out of the side of his eye, Jeff saw the contrail begin. Contrail! That was the word! It was in the old stories he'd read because it was better to study than tell Father or Mother he had nothing to do. At nine, they'd actually put him to work in the mines for a day, There'd been other nine-year-olds there. They'd kept their distance after the foreman shouted his name the first time. At least the foreman shouted at Jeff; he had a leather belt for the other kids. That night Jeff dragged himself home and went to bed, too exhausted for supper. Next morning, he was studying before his tutor arrived.

The tales from the Landers' years were written dry, but there was excitement behind every word. And they included s.p.a.ce shuttles dropping down from the Santa Maria. They left white trails in the sky, like a thin bead of clouds. And they made double sonic booms. Above Jeff, the contrail headed east, headed for his sister or brother, away from him. Jeff shook his head wryly. So what else was new? Then the contrail began to turn. Maybe they wouldn't end up in sis's lap. "Ned, my horse."

A shuttle couldn't land in these hills. A town like Hazel Dell might draw them. h.e.l.l, Jeff didn't care; a shuttle was headed down. Wherever it went, he was going.

Nikki glanced at the sky when she heard the thunder, but didn't quit hoeing her row of corn, beans, and melons. Ma had not been as understanding as Nikki had hoped last week when she and Daga came racing home well after dark. Da had been in a mood. Without looking up from the new plates he was glazing for the public room, he'd said, "You work the fields every day for the next month." Ma hadn't said a word in Nikki's defense. Maybe if Nikki had been her usual self, she would have found a way to get Ma and Da talking and herself off the hook. After watching a mountain vanish, just vanish, Nikki had been at a loss for words. She still was.

However, thunder offered a chance for rain on a hot, dusty day. You couldn't work the fields in the rain, but the sky above Nikki was blue. Pure blue, no clouds at all, about what to expect in high summer. As Nikki bent back to her work, a streak of white caught her eye. She looked back up. "What's that?" a boy next to her asked.

"Don't know," a man answered.

"Like nothing I've ever seen," a grandma added, leaning on her hoe and watching the lengthening white line that was a cloud but not a cloud. If Grandma felt it a sight worth watching, Nikki couldn't get in trouble watching, too. She rested on her hoe; there was a lot of talk among the grown-ups, but n.o.body had any idea what it was. As the line got closer, Nikki could make out something at the tip, no bigger than a pinhead. Then the pinhead quit making clouds. It circled lower.

"Isn't it flying, like a dirigible?" a man said. He'd been to the big cities and claimed to have actually flown on one.

"It doesn't look like one," another man said.

"Yeah, but it's flying. What else could it be?"

n.o.body had an answer. Now Nikki could hear a shriek like something Grandma said banshees made. But what was coming down looked too solid to be out of a story.

"It's going to land," the know-it-all announced.

Nikki came to the same conclusion at about that time. Some folks headed back for the village. Nikki found Daga at her side.

"Let's go see what it is," Daga suggested.

"I'm not going anywhere with you. Try Emma or Willow."

"They're not talking to me."

"I shouldn't either. You're no fun anymore."

"Bet whatever that is'll be fun, and I didn't find it. How much trouble can I get you into when even grandmas are going?" Nikki knew she should tell Daga to go jump in a lake, get lost, do anything. Instead, she dropped her hoe and was off.

Ray cycled the view on his reader through the shuttle's cameras. The flight deck was breathing ship's air and off-limits to anyone who touched this planet. Matt was adamant; until the landing party completed six weeks' quarantine, the ship and ground crew were a world apart.

The village was estimated at about a thousand people. Intermingled with the houses were vegetable gardens. Farmed plots grew larger the farther out from town until some of them were long enough to land a shuttle, a.s.suming the ground would take the weight. Sensors said it would. The pilot was making her own check.

"Radar says it's solid and even. Good pasture. Strap in tight, folks, I'm setting this thing down. Give me full flaps, and then some." The shuttle lined up and began its final approach. At twenty meters, the pilot cut power. Ray had suggested that, not wanting to scorch the crop he was landing on. The pilot readily agreed. "Don't much want a gra.s.s fire under my belly, either."

The shuttle settled lightly, bounced, and decided to stay. The pilot went light on the brakes, taking her time rolling to a halt. Ray stood, arranging his gray civilian suit around himself. Mary went down her security detail, marines and middies, eyeing them like a mother hawk, making final adjustments to their gear. Nothing brought her to a halt. Back with Ray, she saluted. "Teams ready, Colonel."

"Deploy them, Captain."

They would surround the cooling shuttle and make sure no rubberneckers singed their fingers. The marines went out with quick strides and professionally disinterested faces. The middies would have been more impressive if they'd done less rubbernecking themselves. Well, Ray had brought them to learn.

As Ray laboriously negotiated the pa.s.senger compartment, a breeze from the rear hatch filled it. Heat off the cooling shuttle mingled with a warmth laden with sun and baked earth and growing things. At the top of the stairs, he paused. Four kilometers away were the stone and wattle houses of the village. Dirt paths led from it. Close in were green crops that looked like corn. In front of him, a greenish gold crop stood twenty centimeters or so tall, waving like the sea in the gentle wind. Behind the shuttle, deep tracks in the earth marked its pa.s.sage.

People were coming from all around, in ones and twos, fives and tens. Some carried hoes or other farm implements, using them more as walking sticks than as weapons. Draping his right cane over his elbow, Ray latched on to the stair rail and started down, one step at a time.

Mary stood at the halfway mark. "Need a hand, sir?"

"I can take care of myself." Ray tried to keep the snarl out of his voice. The woman who had crippled him nodded, and looked out over the gathering crowd. She did not move, and he had no doubt she'd catch him if he faltered. Part of him agreed with her actions; the mission could ill afford him breaking something. Another part of him, the man who'd led combat apes, snapped and snarled, but Ray kept that under control.

When he was within three steps of her, Mary started down slowly. "Folks look nice enough. I've had the troops sling arms. No need to look more intimidating than we have to."

To their right, a small kid, hardly more than a toddler, broke through the crowd and headed straight for the shuttle, a mother in hot pursuit. The kid didn't look tall enough to reach the still-cooling craft, but then again, tiny legs like hers should not have been so fast. With a laugh, Kat swooped down and grabbed her. The child wrapped herself in giggles, oblivious to having made the first contact in three hundred years between Santa Maria and the rest of humanity. The middie tossed the little one up lightly once, then handed her off to her mother.

Mother applied a swift swat to a diapered rump that caused more indignation than pain. When the child responded with a heartbroken sob, the mother promptly gave the little one a breast to suck. The child relaxed into feeding, and mother and child disappeared into the crowd.

Ray grinned. He could just picture his future daughter or son bolting for the shinny new thing, and Rita facing down armed troops to get her little one back. Still grinning, he reached the bottom step.

Facing him was a short, round, balding man accompanied by a shorter, not-so-round woman with flaming red hair only slightly streaked with silver. He wore a homespun shirt and pants. She sported a multicolored, high-waisted dress that held her b.r.e.a.s.t.s firmly in place. The two weren't all that different from those around them; still, their stance and place gave Ray a strong sense that they spoke for the rest. Clearing his throat, he swallowed the last of the baby-inspired grin and gave the speech he'd been working on.

"h.e.l.lo. I am Raymond Longknife, Minister of Science and Exploration"-he modified his t.i.tle to fit its present reality-"for the sovereign planet of Wardhaven, member of the Society of Humanity. As such, I greet you in their name and in peace."

Across from him, the man put his hands on his hips. "And isn't it about time you found us?" Behind him, people nodded agreement, laughed, and continued gawking at the lander.

Ray had heard worse imitations of an old Earth Celtic brogue, but not many. Before he could answer, a tall, thick tree of a man stepped out from the crowd.

"And who's paying for me crop?" With one hand he swept a wave toward the lander's tracks and all the people tramping about. With the other, he formed a fist.

Beside Ray, Mary's fists closed. Kat edged closer, ready to launch her tiny self at a man twice her height and five or six times her bulk. The crowd was dead quiet.

"And what would be fair pay?" Ray asked.

"Oh, a pound of copper would be fine payment, fine payment indeed," the big man laughed. Ray decided he did not like that laugh. He was rapidly developing a dislike for the man. Half a kilo of copper was nothing to Ray; still, the man's demand was clearly intended to be outrageous.

"Go *long with ya, man." The woman in the leadership pair slapped lightly at the big man's arm, in that way women have of defusing a situation men are likely to fight over. "For a pound of copper, the good man could buy the village. Big Sean, don't shame us."

"I think we can work this out." Coins had disappeared on many planets, but on the rim, financial networks were a sometimes thing; Ray always carried a few coins. From his pocket he produced three silver-copper alloy disks. "We'll need to set up a base here. I imagine this entire field will be out of production this season. Will these cover the cost of the crop?"

Big Sean gave Ray a grin that showed several missing teeth and snapped the coins out of his hand. "This will be just fine, just fine." Waving his booty aloft, the tough headed into the crowd. People got out of his way, not at all eager to see what he was so proud of.

A man on horseback galloped up to the back of the crowd. Had the lord of the manor arrived? No, he dismounted and disappeared. The man and woman in front of Ray ignored the arrival. The woman nudged her partner; the man cleared his throat. "These lands, they be belonging to all of us, not just one man. You've paid Sean for the loss of his crop. You owe the village for the rent of the land."

Ray found three more coins and handed them over.

"And if you got two more where those came from, you could buy beer for all." That came from a friendly bear of a man, pushing a wheelbarrow laden with a large keg through the crowd, followed by an equally friendly woman pushing a load of mugs.

Mary pulled two coppers from her pocket. "The marines'll pay for this round, folks."

"Then the bar is open," the kegtender shouted; the crowd cheered and gathered around. The first mug, sporting a proud head of foam, was pa.s.sed to Ray. He handed it over to the village headman, who backed up to create an opening, blew the head off gustily, and took a long swallow. "Top of the brew, Gillie, top of the brew. They don't make it better."

The brewmaster beamed proudly and handed a mug to Ray. Humanity's amba.s.sador to the lost people of the Santa Maria blew the head off as he'd been shown, then tried to look like he was downing a good portion of the brew while limiting himself to a mouthful. "Best I've tasted in a dozen star systems," Ray announced; he wasn't lying.

The delicacies properly observed, the people got down to organizing themselves with an easy, gentle efficiency for serious celebration. Men went for more beer or tables to set dinner on. The women headed back to get whatever was cooking; dinner would be a communal potluck. Turning to Mary, Ray began his own organizational effort. "Captain, stack rifles in the shuttle's arms locker. Relieve the middies to circulate. Post a guard at the nose, tail, and wingtips, and two at the stairs. Rest are free. Limit, two beers. n.o.body gets drunk." Ray put steel into the order. With Second Chance off-limits to anyone who'd been dirtside, his disciplinary options were few.

Jeff Sterling's heart pounded; if he played his cards right, this could change his whole life. He'd ridden like mad when it became clear that this, the biggest thing to hit Santa Maria since Landing Day, was coming down right in his lap. Vicky and Mark would puke with envy.

a.s.suming, of course, he could find the copper in this business and make the killing he wanted.

He figured the man with the canes and the woman beside him as the bosses even before the chief village elder gave one of them the obligatory beer to settle a deal. He seemed in charge, she following his wishes, though it was too soon to see who really called the shots. Jeff had seen the metal disks the bully Sean waved. Quite a pay for a ruined crop. Then again, if they could extract minerals from pulverized mountains, it was chicken feed, like Vicky's favorite story about buying an island for a handful of trinkets.

Jeff used the confusion to approach the two unnoticed. Three hundred years, and the language hadn't changed that much. The t.i.tles caught him: Captain, Colonel. Those were military ranks. He'd have to check his references to see which one outranked the other. According to the old texts, soldiers were poor businesspeople. Fascinating. Why was the military doing the exploration? Was this a rediscovery or what the history books called an invasion? Did people who vanished mountains need to invade? Jeff's head started to spin.

Annie grabbed his arm. "Did you hear them, man? Did you hear them?"

"No, I arrived late."

"Oh." A dour glance from a grandmother reminded Annie that, party or no, that was a Sterling arm she was hanging on. She backed off a decorous foot before she gushed on. "They're from Earth's own Society of Humanity. They've come to take us home."

Jeff glanced around. "And this isn't home?" He usually avoided their half-serious attempt at an Irish brogue, but now was a good time for questions; he had a million. As nice as it was to look at Annie, he kept an eye on the two. The woman was rearranging the uniformed people who stood around like potted plants, decorating their lander. Groups boarded the lander and returned without their long guns. They still had things at their waists that looked like pistols. Trusting, but not too trusting.

"Of course this is home, you silly man. But to hear from Earth, to talk to them again after three hundred years."

"Right, and we're all going to love what they do to us?" Jeff wondered how many other people here saw in the Earth people only what they wanted. Jeff was logical. He saw metal, all kinds of metal, and lots of it. The scarcity of which had made the Sterlings the power on this planet.

Annie took a second to think about that one. "They said they came in peace."

"Whose peace? Yours, mine, theirs? Annie, excuse me, I've got to go talk to them." Jeff took two steps back. In a moment, Annie was lost in the flow of people. Jeff didn't actually want to talk to anyone. Shadow. Listen. Learn. Then, when he knew more, talk. He couldn't wait too long. As soon as Vicky found out about this, she'd be headed out here with bells on her toes and shovels in both hands.

In the bustle of setting up for the party, a few benches showed up around one table. Mary edged Ray toward one; he didn't resist, his back was aching. There was no talk of business, just proud claims that he was about to taste the best breads, stews, and other things whose names escaped him. Apparently business without hospitality was impossible here. Seated, Ray measured the pain in his back against wooziness from meds, and swallowed a pill.

The mayor and wife joined Ray at the table. A gray-haired man, Father Joseph, was introduced as the town priest, though his dress was the same peasant garb as those around him. A white-haired lad of eight or nine stayed close to the priest.

"My grandson, David," the priest explained. "I'm sure Rome will have a few things to say about how we've lived." The priest spoke of Rome with absolute Confidence that it was still there and would be interested in what these survivors had done in its name. Ray wondered if, three hundred years separated from the rest of humanity, he'd have confidence anything would survive.

Yes, the army. In three hundred years, there would still be a need for infantry-and officers to lead them.

The boy, bashful, slowly gravitated toward Ray. "Do your legs hurt? My head hurts. Sometimes awful."

The elders did not shush the boy. Apparently these people did not hide their kids from the realities of life. "Sometimes my legs do hurt. And my back, too. Where does your head hurt?"

Answered, the boy grew confident. "My whole head. It just hurts. Then I see lights and hear things that aren't there. My stomach gets all upset."

"Sounds like migraines," Kat said, joining Ray and Mary. "I used to get them when I was a kid. We have pills you can take for that. Maybe we could have a med team come down next trip and help you."

The boy fled back to his grandfather at such a possibility. Eye to eye, they exchanged wordless reflections on the promise. "It would be wonderful if you could help my grandson," the priest answered for both. "I have little I can offer you, but whatever you might ask, I will try to give."

"Father," Ray answered, "there's a lot we have that is easy for us to give." Ray left talk of payment for after supper. In a culture he poorly understood, an evening's conversation might well be worth a bottle of pills.

Tables were soon laden with contributions from every household. Ray had never seen so many ways to cook potatoes. They were fried, baked, twice cooked, diced, sliced, and buried in sauces tasting of every spice he could imagine. Meat was reserved to flavor stews and soups. The Public Room contributed a roasted turkey, cut very thin. Ray took a slice, enough to praise it.

As Ray settled back down at their table, a young woman Ray took to be the beermaster's daughter showed up with a pitcher to refill mugs. Ray protected his half-empty gla.s.s. "I'm taking medicine. I have to go easy on the beer."

Mary put a hand over hers, too. "I get falling-down drunk and the amba.s.sador here'll fire me. What chance has a down-on-her-luck soldier or a broken-down miner have of finding a job?"

Mary was joking, but the young woman with the pitcher took her seriously. "Why, if you're a miner, you'll want to talk to Jeff here. He's a member of the Sterling family. If it's mining you want, he's the one to see." The barmaid hauled a very embarra.s.sed man in by his elbow. Ray recognized him, the fellow who'd rode up. Now that Ray thought about it, he'd also been close by whenever Ray looked around. A lurking shadow.

"Annie, I don't need to bother these people," the fellow protested, trying unsuccessfully to shake free.

"Now, wouldn't that be a new Jeff. You've never been slow to bother any of us about funny rocks and minerals."

"Sit down," Mary laughed. "It's fun talking shop." She gave Ray a wink. If anyone here knew what happened to that mountain, this kid should. Ray leaned back, sampling a dozen different flavors of spud as Mary pumped the guy.

Jeff sat himself down next to Mary. The mayor's wife edged herself farther up the bench. The young man studied his plate while Annie refilled his mug. Casting a quick glance at the beer, the fellow licked his lips but didn't take a swig. "As you probably guessed from how much your copper disks brought, metal is kind of scarce here," he finally said.

"The devil it's scarce," the mayor cut in. "The d.a.m.n Sterlings want two years' crops for a simple phone system."

"Jeff doesn't set the prices," Annie defended him. Scowls and rolled eyes from the locals made it clear Annie was the only defender Jeff had.

"It wasn't my family that decided to live off the salvage from the Santa Maria. Jason Sterling warned they'd need metals if their kids would have a decent living."

"When you're just three hundred people, there's only so much you can do," the priest put in softly, "especially when you come to have more wee ones than grown-ups."

"Yeah," the mayor agreed more sharply. "If wee ones aren't fed and protected now, it doesn't much matter what fancies you want for them when they grow up."

"Every frontier faces that challenge," Ray said, trying to support both sides in what looked to be an ancient argument. "Balancing the future and the present. Tough choices."

"So didn't his man and family go off and claim the only metal-rich land here," the mayor snapped.

Kat worked her wrist unit. "Sterling was a mechanic on Santa Maria. How'd he end up as the metal czar?"

"He worked with the three mission geologists before they cracked up over on the mainland," Jeff explained. "They'd only identified one mineral-rich area and wanted to find a few more before the mission's a.s.sets got too thin."

"And after we lost number three shuttle, you better believe things got thin." The mayor took a long draw on his beer at that one. So did a lot of listeners.

"What happened?" Mary asked.

"No one knows. Crash beacon showed they flew into a mountain," Jeff answered.

"Didn't they have radar altimeters back then?" Kat asked.

"Sure they did, child, sure they did. I guess this one wasn't working quite right." The mayor sneered.

Ray flashed Kat a silencing glance. Who had worked on the shuttle could not be established at this late date. He was pretty sure the popular story included a Sterling repair job.

"What happened, we'll never know." The padre took over the story, his eyes silencing the mayor. "With only two landers, they couldn't risk visiting the crash site, but concentrated on stripping the ship. They managed to keep one running for almost ten years by swapping parts back and forth."

"Quite an accomplishment." Ray gave credit where it was due. He also wanted to get them past the old feuds to something more relevant to their present problem.