Her Majesty's Western Service (11 page)

“Well, we've got food,”
the first officer said.

“4-106? You 4-106?”
came a voice from a couple of hundred yards away. Someone with a speaking cone.

“
Bring them back, Kent,” Perry ordered.

That group
– with two dozen civilians – was larger, the engine and rear-gunnery crews, under Vescard. Senior Warrant Halvorsen was the man with the speaking cone.

“Where were our Marines?” the old warrant muttered. “Vice, why the hell did St. John’s give us a ship without basic force protection?”

“Their responsibility,” Perry growled. “But our problem and the pirates’ fault.
They
stole my ship, and Every. Last. One. Of. Those. Bastards. Will. Hang.”

“Hey, you 4-106?”
asked a civilian coming up. “Some bags for you, strung to a parachute. Marked your number.”

“Bags?”

“Yeah, personal shit or something. `bout a mile that way.”

“
I'll take care of it,” Martindale said. “Holt, Lieberman, Jeppesen, and you two, come along.”

The indicated crew followed Martindale in the direction the civilian had pointed.

“Any other injuries? Vescard, do a count. We missing anyone?”

“
What's the plan, captain?” someone asked.

“
We gather all our crew, and any civilians who want to come. Swarovski, do you have our location?”

The w
eapons officer shook his head. “No, sir. Somewhere in north Kansas?”

“
Try Nebraska,” said Perry. “About three and a half miles south of us is the Platte River. The nearest town is a place called Kearney, eighteen or twenty miles to the east.”

“Everyone's here, sir,”
said Vescard. “Allowing for the XO and the party he took.”

“
We'll rest if needed, then march to Kearney. With any luck we'll be able to get transportation from there.”

Martindale and his group came back, four of them dragging a parachute that tu
rned out to be full of duffel bags.

“
Our shit. They threw down our shit,” said Vescard. “What the fuck?”

“
That patronizing bitch,” said Perry. “She's
returning our personal effects
. Because they're not good enough, no doubt. To rub it in further.”

There was a pause, as people went for their bags. Swarovski grinned as he loaded a magazine into a semi-automatic
carbine.

More civilians were trickling in, gathering around the Air Service crew.

“The town of Kearney, Nebraska is about eighteen to twenty miles to the east,” said Perry. “We're going to go there, and get transport from that point. Civilians are welcome to come, under the protection of myself and my crew.”

“
What good's that?” somebody sneered. “Couldn't even protect your own selves, let alone my ship!”

“
Speak to the Vice with respect, mate,” said one of Perry's men.

I am not going to punch that man. I am not going to shoot that man. Because it would be inappropriate to, and illegal. He is upset that he lost
his
ship.

God damn it.

“You may feel free to not come along, if so desired,” Perry said coldly. “My crew and I are going.”

And when we get back to Chicago, or Hugoton, I am going to find that pirate, and I am going to see her hang.

He'd never been so humiliated in his life. He'd never been this mad.

That bitch is
going
to pay.

I will track you down, recover 4-106 and
put you on the gallows.

Chapter Four

“
The US Federal government is primarily focused on holding down their Southern states, and their extensive use of – some might say dependence on – Italian and Germanic mercenary formations is proof that they barely have the manpower to handle
that
.

The Plains, a less troublesome area, is policed by an undermanned Department of the West, whose strength presently consists of seven cavalry squadrons and two of airships, dispersed across an area of approximately 430,000 square miles.

To all intents and purposes,
effective
policing of the Plains comes from local sheriffs’ departments, state militias and the Imperial presence based at Hugoton, which assists the Federals primarily by protecting commerce against the pirates that infest the region...”

From a foreign affairs brief to newly-appointed House of Lords members; Parliamentary Communications Division, February 1962.

It was about seven thirty in the morning, and they'd been marching for some hours
– after a lengthy meal-and-rest break, cooking beef from the cargo and allowing exhausted riggers to get a little sleep – when they came across the patrol. A steam-car and two riders, one of whom had a shotgun across his lap. The steam-car itself had a light machine-gun on a passenger-door pintel, and the driver steered so that the gun wasn't quite aimed
away
from the group.

“
Stop right there and identify yourselves,” one of the riders said. He wore a heavy kevlar vest over a white shirt and jeans. On the brim of his cowboy hat was a sheriff's star; another one was pinned to his chest.

Perry was tired and irritable.

“We're downed fucking
pirates
,” he snapped at the man, gesturing. His thirty-two crew and about forty of the civilian crew-members. The Imperials were all in uniform; the civilians, from their rigs, goggles and brass-adorned boots, could have been identified at half a mile as aircrew.

“
Captain, no need to get annoyed,” said the rider. “Just doing my job.”

“Vice-Commodore.”

“An honest mistake, Vice-Commodore. I'm Deputy-Sergeant Joe Danhauer, Kearney Sheriff's Department. You're from the convoy that was attacked, I imagine.”

“
Yes. A couple of my own staff are injured, and there are some quite badly-burned crew ten miles to the east of us. I trust there's a doctor in Kearney?”

“
We have a whole clinic, Vice-Commodore. I understand you're heading for our town? I'll escort you and your people in.”

Danhauer looked over the group.

“You have some wounded.”

Two badly-burned civilians had insisted on coming, and their friends had helped them along. Eventually Perry had ordered some of his crew to work as stretcher-bearers.

“Yes,” said Perry. Eyeing the steam car, but not wanting to ask any favors of the sheriff's man.

Danhauer turned.
“Norris, ride on the hood or walk. And Mikey, I'll have you dismount.”

The deputy in the steam-car's passenger seat
– a tall, lean kid of about twenty-two – got out. He pushed back the brim of his cowboy hat, and Perry noticed he was quite unshaven for a law-enforcement type.

Not much for discipline out here
, he thought.

Danhauer followed Perry's look, and must have noticed disapproval.

“Deputy Norris,
how
did you shave this morning - with a broadsword?”

The kid grinned.

“Sorry, sarge. A broadsword.”

“
You're walking back. See if any of these gentlemen need help. You can take a couple of their bags. The Vice-Commodore’s, to start with.”

Halvorsen had offered to take Perry's, but he'd refused;
the least I can do is carry my own bag.
But the twenty pounds had become unpleasant over time, and it was a relief to hand it over to the young deputy.

The burned civilians were helped, one into the steam-car's passenger seat and the other onto horseback.
At a slightly faster pace, the group began moving through what seemed to be a more cultivated area, and then onto a packed-dirt trail. Past a fence that looked like it’d been maintained lately, and then a couple of mounted cowboys who watched them pass.

Danhauer dismounted so he could talk to Perry.

“I imagine you’ll want rooms for the night.”

“
I'll
want
to get moving to Chicago as soon as possible. If that's not practical?”

“
We don't have the transport, and the nearest railhead would be Kansas City. You can march, or we can send for an airship. I imagine your friends won't be coming back to pick you up?”

“
Policy is to go on, regardless. Protect the convoy at all costs.”

“
Even when - you're about what a lieutenant-colonel is, right? Pretty high-ranking guy to go down.”

“
The assumption,” Perry said, “is that a vice-commodore can take care of himself as well as any lieutenant-commander.”

“
Makes sense, I suppose. My thought would be that you stay in Kearney overnight. See if you can hire a ship - there's a couple in town, spring-powered scout runners - to send to Kansas City for something that can carry all your people.”

“
Not viable to hire horses? All I need is thirty-two, for my crew. The civilians aren't my responsibility beyond basic physical protection.”

“
You might, I suppose, but are you carrying enough cash to? Early spring’s a busy season around here. They won't come cheap.”

“
I could write a note -
if
I had official paper. I suppose they wouldn't take payment on arrival in Kansas City? There's a small Service outpost there.”

“
Possibly, or not,” said Danhauer. “I'll arrange bunkhouses for your men just in case.”

The deputy-sergeant re-mounted his house and spurred it forwards, riding for the town. After a moment, the steam-c
ar accelerated and followed him.

“
I shave with a broadsword,” Deputy Norris remarked to Perry. “That's how badass I am, Commodore. Takes a broadsword to cut
my
beard.”

“
Uh-huh,” said Perry. “How much further to Kearney?”

“
Five miles or so?” Norris pointed along the road.

“
Then let's pick up the pace, shall we?”

Kearney was larger than Perry had expected, although he vaguely recalled flying over the place; there were a hundred towns like this on the plains, regional centers of industry and commerce. The advantage Kearney had was its location on the Platte, which had been dammed. There was a power station and wha
t looked like a hydrogen plant, and a scout-class airship hung tethered in a field outside the town limits, whose fencing implied it was normally a cattle yard. From somewhere, an engine puffed.

Danhauer met them on the road in.

“Vice-Commodore, I've arranged rooms at the Grand Junction. Best hotel in the town. A block of a dozen, Sheriff’s Department account – don't know how much cash you’re personally carrying, but you can have your service reimburse us. Bunkhousing for your enlisted men, at McDonald's.”

“
Thank you,” said Perry. “As soon as I reach a telegraph, I'll have a courier sent with the money.”

“
Your men have personal cash, I assume? You do?”

“
They
should
,” said Perry. “Payday was only a couple of days ago. Swarovski’s probably gambled all
his
away, though.”

“
No, sir,” said Swarovski. “Won big, the other night in Denver. Hell, I can cover anyone who needs it. Couple of Fed cavalry majors who couldn’t handle their liquor.”

“
Never had much use for Feds myself,” Danhauer agreed. “Vice-Commodore, you look like you could use a stiff drink. Why don't I have Norris show your men – and these civilians – to the hotels, and I'll meet you in the bar of the Junction."

“That
works.” Perry turned to the others. “I think you heard the deputy-sergeant. You civilians, it was a pleasure escorting you in, but I'll leave you to make your own arrangements. My crew, consider yourselves free for now. Behave yourselves, don't get drunk, stay in groups of at least two, and stay in town. Anyone short on cash, see the weapons officer for a loan.”

A few sheepish-looking enlist
eds approached Swarovski; Perry, with Martindale and Warrant Halvorsen, went in the direction Danhauer had indicated.

The town had wide central streets,
paved in brick, with a couple of steam-cars and more than a few horses. Boardwalks ran along each side, a couple of feet above the ground.

They passed a dry-goods store, what looked like a rooming house, a feed store.
The directory of an office building indicated a local newspaper, the Kearney Dispatch, a lawyer and a couple of cattle-buyers. Tallest building in the place seemed to be two storeys, although those were common enough.