They Also Serve (4 page)

"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 marinesll 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 passed 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 ambassador 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. Nobody 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.

Assuming, 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 titles 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? Jeffs 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 glass. "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 ambassador 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 embarrassed 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 damn 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 assets 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.

"Yes, we were lucky," the priest agreed, tousling his grandson's hair. "We had some truly gifted botanists and agronomists. They managed to engineer Earth crops to survive here. Still, the first years were awfully scanty."

"And there were the fevers?" The mayor's wife crossed herself; other women did likewise. The men stared at the ground.

"Those must have been hard times," Ray said softly.

"Easy it hasn't been, but we've made this place our home." The mayor hugged his wife; she flashed a smile and snuggled close. Ray felt a flush and wished Rita were here to hug. In the crowd of people seated around him were several women, large with child and many little ones. God, I miss you, Rita. But would he want her here, sharing a planet where mountains vanished?

Evening tiptoed in. The heat of the day fled, leaving behind a gentle breeze laden with the cool scent of green crops and satisfying beer. Somebody brought out a fiddle, another an accordion. Children collected around the musicians, doing little dances to the musicians' tentative efforts at tuning. Ray looked around for a place to relax on the grass.