177
A Bit Farther
“I still think you should call it ‘Rigel’s Prong’”, Oran teased. Suddenly he looked surprised, as a hiccup escaped his lips.
Rigel kicked him, but laughed. “No. And I’m not calling it ‘The Finger of Fury’, either.” That was directed at Casey, who lounged beyond Oran with Cristobal Nevarez. The young man’s presence was still a marvel to Rigel – after all, what were the odds that a son of a vicious, corrupt man would turn out so well... and be a Scout, on top of it? But he fit in with the rest of the Scouts Oran had brought, like he’d always been one of them. Maybe it came from the sense of each other’s presence they had, something Rigel envied deeply. But whatever it was, he couldn’t help but evaluate it as a benefit for the future – now if he could find a couple of Escobar Scouts.....
“Bring it out!” Casey yelled, throwing a clod of dirt at the stage. “We’re tired of waiting!” It was to be the last act of the farewell sendoff Osvaldo was throwing at Rigel’s new estate, a party that had lasted past midnight already, judging from the stars. Landon had the finale, and since Austin had disappeared just before the last act – a batch of swordsmen who’d come out high in Osvaldo’s tournament, enacting a skit inspired by Victor’s tale of Emilio’s death, where the “bad guys” managed to slay everything but their opponents, including tables, chairs, a wine barrel, a barmaid, and the innkeeper, before the set burst into “flames”, whereupon they all burst into an improbable song of repentance, begging the corpse of Emilio to plead for their forgiveness to the Virgin. For that matter, Rigel noticed, Miguel no longer sat with Osvaldo. What could Landon have cooked up....?
Just as he turned to ask Osvaldo if he knew anything, Landon came out on stage and bowed to the audience. When the cheers died down, he strummed his harp. A figure emerged from stage left, took the harp, and handed Landon a guitar. Landon shrugged and began to tune the instrument, which proved to need it badly. When he was nearly done, another figure emerged, from stage right. Both of the new figures had dark hair, one in a long bowl cut, one waist length, the first in bell-bottom pants, the second in a long skirt. Together they tapped Landon on both shoulders, making him spin to see both at once. The short-haired figure mimed some guitar chords; Landon nodded, and turned to find that the long-haired one had produced a stool for him. He sat, and the two walked to center stage holding hands.
In a clear high tenor that everyone recognized as Miguel’s, the long-haired figure began to sing:
“They say we're young and we don't know,
|We won't find out until we grow”
And then Osvaldo’s voice took over:
“Well I don't know if all that's true
|'Cause you got me, and baby I got you”
Leaning close, cheek to cheek, they sang together:
“I got you, babe! I got you, babe!”
The Vortex Snatched suppressed their laughter, as the two continued the famous song with different words, first Miguel, then Osvaldo, then together:
“I hear you’re from a different place
|But you are still from the human race
|I never thought I’d journey far,
|But you did too, and now look, here we are:
|I got you, babe! I got you, babe!”
Then returned to the more familiar, still alternating:
“They say our love won't pay the rent:
|Before it's earned, our money's all been spent
|I guess that's so, we don't have a pot,
|But at least I'm sure of all the things we got
|Babe!
|I got you, babe! I got you, babe!”
Rigel didn’t know the words that well, but he heard Ocean and someone else join in; beside him, Oran was mouthing Osvaldo’s part. Rigel realized the tickle on his cheeks was from his own tears – laughing and crying, some lord I am! he thought. He closed his eyes and soaked it up as the two alternated lines:
“I got you to hold my hand.
|I got you to understand.
|I got you to walk with me.
|I got you to talk with me.
|I got you to kiss goodnight.
|I got you to hold me tight.
|I got you, I won't let go.
|I got you to love me so.”
This time, everyone joined in the chorus:
“I got you, babe!
|I got you, babe!
|I got you, babe!
|I got you, babe!
|I got you, babe!“
Landon had the harp again, and strummed softly as the pair bowed, kissed, and skipped off holding hands to hoots and applause. But they all quieted as the chords and cascades of notes kept coming. Eldon, master of effects, had torches dimmed, until just one – on the other side of a polished shield, so it lit the stage and didn’t get light in viewers’ eyes – still burned. Then they heard a familiar thump, of Druid staff on bedrock, and the entire crowd held its collective breath.
A flicker of light popped out and flew away from Landon’s fluid fingers. Another followed, and another, and then it was a stream. “Fireflies!” Oran cried with delight. The glowing, flickering insects dashed into the night, into a new world, into a new life. Before they scattered, Eldon doused the final torch, so all could watch as bugs faded into stars.
“Everyone sleep well”, came Landon’s voice, a bit of Druid compulsion in it. In awe and respect, they made their way to their beds.
Rita smiled fondly at the tent next to Rigel’s, where their well-loved gay squire prepared to sleep across the door, guarantor of his lady’s safety.
“This took fourteen days last time”, Chen noted, as they looked out on the southern savanna from the end of the road from Segovia Nueva. They’d taken that route, instead of the shorter one through Tarentino that they’d used before, in order to see – and climb – Mount Escudo, second highest point in Refuge, described by Miguel as “a great heap of dirt”. Why nothing had been built on it became obvious on the hike up: it was a white, slippery clay Akaya identified as Bentonite – used on their Earth as a thickener for milkshakes.
“Expect twenty-four days, then”, Eldon responded. “On a linear relationship in terms of speed, it would be twenty-three, but with an expedition this large it takes longer to get moving and to settle in to camp. On top of that, there will be wagon problems, and we’ll have to slow to deal with those.” He cocked his head and watched the lead elements head onto the grass before them. “The interesting thing is that if a wagon near the front needs repair, it may not slow the column at all, because it can rejoin with a rear unit, but if one in the back breaks down, we either slow the whole expedition while it’s fixed or leave an escort to watch over it.”
Rita regarded him with admiration. “That just comes naturally, doesn’t it? You didn’t sit down and calculate that or diagram it?”
Eldon actually blushed, but shrugged. “I had a friend who was a pool shark because when he looked at the table, all the vectors were already there, and he just picked the most advantageous set. Another could look at a foundation diagram and tell to the nearest decaliter how much concrete it would take to fill it. They were seeing the patterns without having to consciously think about it. I see systems like the caravan, and I don’t have to calculate, I see the relationships
“Actually I always did”, he related more softly, “but here... it’s a whole different thing. I rode past Servant Village and could see right off that their arrangement of fields wasn’t the most efficient. I walked into Lord Ryan’s metals workshop and it just looked wrong – it wasn’t the most efficient layout.” He stared into the distance. “I didn’t say anything, though. I didn’t really care. When Druid Eraigh dragged me into the Cavern that day, explaining about the expedition, though, something stirred. I used to read about Bedford and Clark going to the Northwest, or Lewis and Dalton on the second expedition Jefferson and Simms funded, and the adventure thrilled me – new places, new things, new people. I felt a... sort of fire, the old thrill that I got before reading about one of those explorers, and looking at everything in the Cavern I could see the patterns of how it ought to be organized, what went where, what was missing.” Their quartermaster chuckled. “Then I got mad that they were getting so much wrong on something so exciting. I jumped on those three who were arguing and set them straight... and here I am on a real expedition of exploration, instead of just reading about one!”
Rigel and Rita grinned at each other, Austin slapped Eldon on the back, and Devon shook his head. He didn’t understand getting excited like that; in his way, you dealt with things systematically and got them done or solved.
“Did you take into account that we aren’t going to have to hunt for ways around the bloody scarps?” Chen inquired.
“Ah – didn’t know about those. How much time did they cost you?” And off they went, Chen and Oran and Tanner trying to remember how much time they’d spent hunting for a route.
She blessed God again for the gift of boots from the leatherman in the city called Plano Rojo, “Red Plain”, who’d been delirious with joy when her herbs and prayers had healed his daughter. He didn’t know it, but she’d also fixed the problem that had kept him and his wife childless since that daughter – which she’d covered for ahead of the discovery by telling him she would beseech the Virgin to heal all their ills.
The staff wasn’t such a great gift; it was a little too heavy for her, though that was improving with the exercise of lifting and placing it with each step she took. The young man who’d carved it had wanted her in ways a nun wouldn’t give, which he knew, yet made himself suffer by keeping her company as she journeyed. He was good with wood, so she’d suggested he seek a position as a carver – the evidence was that the grip he’d carved on the staff fit either of her hands, and that near-perfectly... to say nothing of the delicate lilies he’d carved around the top, with four crosses worked in to represent the four directions, the four corners of the earth, the four evangelists, and the four wounds of Christ, all fit symbols asking God’s protection for a “holy traveler”.
Now she moved more confidently, thanks to perhaps the greatest gift, one of knowledge: it was not unheard of for a woman to feel the call, yet not seek out one of the existing orders. She had identified herself as devoted to Santo Rafael, whose name means “God Heals” to a village priest, from whom she’d received a glowing commendation for her holy task, and the information that gave her assurance that shed wouldn’t be imprisoned – or worse – for claiming a devotion professed by no existing Order. Now as she walked, she toyed with the idea of asking Count Antonio for some gold to found an Order of Healers here. If he could be convinced it would help keep peace with the Realm.... But that got into the realm of politics, which to her was dirty. It was enough for her that having such an Order would be the work of God – so she would ask, for that reason; let him have other motives, which after all was the province of lords.
Another village was in sight. Gladness filled her, that a place for rest was near, but more because there she would find people in need of her gift. This time, if any offered a gift, she thought she’d ask for a cloak.
Rigel was in a good mood: Scouts roamed freely, no wagons had yet broken, they were moving unerringly from descent to descent – and there were no signs of Others. Part of him itched to know where to find them, so he could destroy, but he found that almost amusing, and responded with advice from the long-dead Lord Escobar whose sword he carried:
So long as your enemy knows not you are coming, make your preparations thoroughly, and strike in strength. So he focused on the current preparation, talking with each of the Yankees, and with Chen, seeking understanding of British thinking and concepts, however far removed they might be from those of Lost Britain. Intermittently he pondered the concept of slippery time, and wondered if perhaps he was wrong about the Others having come from the stars, that perhaps they’d slipped through from some timeline that had slipped wildly indeed.
Perhaps best, Eldon had declared that their travel time was only going to be twenty days, including one for dealing with breakdowns. That made him breathe easier about an actual fear, born of memory: that even with one wagon transformed into a water carrier, and everyone with an extra skin, they wouldn’t have enough water. The horses consumed a lot! For a day they’d given water meant for humans to horses, because the dew wasn’t giving them enough, but then they’d found what Anaph called a “wadi”, an intermittent stream that was flowing in the spring – but might not be on the trip back. Eldon had, quite practically but shockingly to Rigel, noted that they would probably lose a few men even if they didn’t meet any Others, which would stretch the supply because it would free wagon space otherwise needed for supplies.
“Good thing you could sell some timber for enough to buy more Escobar heavies”, Austin commented as they watched a team backing down a ramp carved down a collapse in a scarp. “Our horses would never do that.”
Rigel chuckled. “I guess you would know, O courtier of the king of horses. But Jaspar de Medina loaned me some of that gold in return for a promise of timber.” Then he laughed. “And Zacarías de Cadiz slipped me a bit for my trouble taking Marcos along.”
Rita chuckled at that. “Poor boy seems lost, finding out how big the world out here is. And that was noble of you, asking the lords who’ve been selling timber to be your agents”, she commented. “You won some friends, there.”
Rigel shrugged. “It was the right thing to do – in both cases. Marcos knows about where this city should be, and those lords -- I was cutting in on their income. Besides, I needed agents, and who better than the people everyone was already accustomed to dealing with.” He grinned. “Besides, I think Anaph made a bigger impression, getting new woods started on a dozen estates.”
“And a whole forest for the de Medina”, added Squire Airein in awe. “He said the trees will be shoulder-high when we come back – hundreds and hundreds of them!”
Rigel shook his head slowly. “I’m more impressed that the trees are going to grow at different rates, so it will be like a regular forest, with trees of different ages. I can’t even imagine how that could work!” Then he grinned. “And the berries – seven species this world doesn’t have!”
“And in three years he can Snag some of the birds and critters that eat them”, Austin added. “It will be awesome to hear robins and swallows and all again.”
“I just hope he really knows how to balance an ecology”, Rita said. “Even with all the help from Yankees who studied some of that, it can’t be easy.”
“He’s starting small”, Rigel reminded her, then laughed. “Really small – he grabbed like six dozen species of soil bacteria that live where the berries came from!”
Austin grinned. “And earthworms. The Valley has them, but there weren’t any down here. Know what he’s working on next?”
“He probably said it, but – no”, Rigel admitted.
“Bugs that eat horseshit. In that Valley, the herd trampled it into the dirt, and the LifeGem made the bacteria really good at digesting it. He thinks down here he’ll want some kind of little beetle.”
“But he needs to find what eats the beetles before he Snags any”, Rita finished. She rolled her eyes. “When I told him that, he said maybe
bears.”
“They’d make good hunting”, Antonio noted, ending his quiet presence.
“The mighty Hunter of House FitzWin speaks!” Austin teased. “Seriously – would they be as dangerous as a gr’venstut?”
“Depends on the species, I think”, Rita mused. “Grizzlies – probably worse. Browns – I think they’re a small kind, so maybe not quite as bad.”
Antonio shook his head in disagreement. “I don’t think any bear is as fast as one of those beasts. It’s weird we haven’t seen any – but I’m not complaining.”
“Nor I”, Rigel agreed. “It was bad enough seeing one get you; I don’t want to lose any men that way.”
“You wouldn’t”, Rita chided. “With a dozen Healers along? Besides, the mounted Scouts would kill one before it got close to anyone on foot.”
“And if there was a herd?” Rigel asked, playing Devils’ advocate.
“Cannon”, Rita said facetiously. She got the laughter she wanted. “No, think about it – all these wagons are like traveling forts, where gr’venstut are concerned. Pile all the foot on them, and let the riders take care of them.”
Rigel considered. “I’ll mention that to Eldon – he’ll want to rearrange our marching order to make that work better.”
“It will make him happy”, said Antonio. “He’s been bored, with everything going so well.”
At that, they laughed – their quartermaster was bored, and they were all content.
Kevin MacNeil looked up, at the knock on his door. His office near the wall, for use in his capacity as Crown Representative on the project, only had the one wall, but he’d insisted on the door so people wouldn’t just walk in – and it was the only way in, since the office sat atop a massive stone that would be part of the foundation for a tall signals tower. That was part of how Engineer Major Granger marked the layout of the various components of the fortifications: each section or building had at least one corner set, so no wind or accident could undo the results of careful surveying. “Come”, he said, setting down the report on the construction of docking facilities, a task belonging to Fleet which he had to make sure coordinated with Engineer Granger’s schedule.
A midshipman entered. “Sir, a scout’s on the way in. Coming in a hurry.”
That was odd. “Alone?”
“Messenger didn’t say, sir. That would be strange.” And indeed it would; messengers often came alone, but scouts... well, they were supposed to be out scouting, unless there was a reason for a personal report, in which case they were supposed to have an escort.
“Make sure he’s passed right through”, Kevin instructed.
“Done, sir.” The midshipman saluted smartly, spun on the ball of his left foot, and was off at a run. Kevin wondered if that single word had meant the junior officer had already seen to the matter, or was off now to do so. Probably some of each, he decided; with real work to do, the midshipmen of the port’s squadron were shaping up nicely.
He just had time to finish reading the report, initial it, and reach for another – thinking once again he’d almost rather be battling Aliens than dealing with endless paperwork – when the door opened without a knock. It wasn’t a lone scout, after all, but three, followed by six Amazons. Their presence alerted him to the importance of whatever it was: the Amazons did as they pleased, serving the Queen, and if it pleased them to guard these scouts, it was a matter of serious concern. Outside a small bell rang, a signal from Squire Timothy, his aide, that he was abandoning his post on an errand – fetching refreshments, almost certainly. Briefly he pondered that word; it was coming to mean food and drink for any event, losing its older meaning of something brought in order to refresh someone after exertion.
“Lord MacNeil.” The scout... leftenant, it seemed, under the sweat and dust, came to attention. But the lord’s attention was on the scout at the leftenant’s left, or more precisely on the slightly nervous manner and wild look in his eyes.
“Leftenant. Straight to the matter, man.” The Amazons, apparently satisfied that nothing behind the single wall constituted a threat to their charge, flowed back out the door.
“We were five days from the coast sir – I know, we’re not supposed to go that far. But Douglas, here, well, sir, he gets itches, like, sometimes, and he had a fierce one. So he followed it, if you know what I mean. Then he comes riding back like the Devil himself was after him, and said I had to come see, or I wouldn’t believe him. So I took a small patrol, grabbing Matthew, here” – he hooked a thumb at the scout on his right – “since he has eyes like they have a built-in glass, for seeing afar off. Well, we got to the place Douglas wanted, and he pointed, and sure enough, there was something I wouldn’t have believed. It was like a cloudiness, sort of a solid fog moving on the ground afar off, in three different places, and something gray and brown in the middle of each patch.
“Well, Matthew described what he saw, and said it looked like the description of Aliens you gave us, sir, and the gray and brown looked like they were building fortresses, sir. I could almost make that out with my glass, but it got dropped a bit back and shows things a bit fuzzy. But Matthew never told us anything but the bare truth before, so I judged we’d better haul ourselves back here with haste. We came by Captain Avery’s patrol to inform him, and these Amazons determined we ought be guarded, so here they are, and we are. And that’s all, sir.”
MacNeil had gone cold inside the moment the man said the word “fortresses”. Having Aliens coming in to attack his fortifications was one thing; to have to deal with enemy fortifications was another matter entirely. Worse, there was no record in anything they’d learned from the Spanish in their Refuge that said anything about Alien fortresses. The thought kept ringing in his head, even while other thoughts were going on, that this had to be considered an invasion, not just raids. “Where, exactly?” he asked automatically, getting up and going to the map that covered half the wall of his office.
The leftenant – Kent, it said on his shirt – stepped over and looked at the map. His finger hovered over an area, but he didn’t commit himself. Then the scout identified as Matthew squeezed between them. “Pardon, m’lord, but it was right here.” This man didn’t hesitate, but pointed to a spot with confidence. “I could ride right to it.”
Kevin frowned. “That’s more than five days out”, he observed.
“Pardon, sir, but it isn’t. Your map’s wrong.” Matthew tapped an area near the shore with his finger. “There are lakes here. Captain O’Rourke got a slipway built, to get a sloop into them. He sailed as far as he could, westward, which is to here.”
MacNeil whistled. “Here” was roughly three days in from the coast proper. Five days from there..... “Saints!” he whispered. “Angus, you sly fox, you really extended my reach!” There was a frown on his face when he turned to the leftenant. “How far out was Captain Avery?”
“He didn’t pass your limit sir. A couple of his scouts did, but just to ride up some high hills for a look at things. They never left sight of the company.”
That was fine, unless Aliens were right on the other side of one of those hills – but if there were, it was something he needed to know. “Matthew, estimate how many aliens you saw.”
“Around the fortresses, plus coming and going....” The young scout closed his eyes, his lips moving slightly. “I call it around nine thousand, sir. If they’re digging inside those walls, though, could be a couple thousand more.”
“Is there any way to achieve surprise?” he heard himself ask.
The leftenant’s eyes went wide in shock. “Colonel, you can’t mean to attack?!”
MacNeil sighed. “Not without an element of surprise. There’s no way to even get close?”
“No, sir. It’s in a basin, curved down all the way around. I was worried they’d see us where we were – no chance for hiding an army.”
“Well. By the time we could gather an army, there’d likely be twice as many of them. Maybe in the late summer we could fire the grass.” MacNeil sighed. “All right. Timothy! Get in here with those refreshments. And I have messages to send. Leftenant, you did a written report?”
“Worked on it when resting the horses. It’s almost done.”
“Good. When you finish, get it to the copiers – I want four copies. And I’ll have a letter to go with them.” On impulse, he looked northward.
Earl Rigel, come swiftly – we need you! he thought.
Or we go back and hide on our islands... no – never!
