Destiny's Choice (The Wandering Engineer) (60 page)

“Easy
enough to do, not much there right now.”

“Funny,”
he sighed. He looked over to what looked like an Inn. Soldiers of various sizes
were milling about, some lounging on wooden chairs drinking ale, others talking
and laughing. They were all dressed in shades of brown with red fur trim. Their
boots had white fur trim and one sported a wolf head piece and fur cape. He had
one hell of a gut, he must have been over a hundred kilo's overweight.
Apparently his ornate torso chest plate had been custom made for that enormous
girth. He took a tankard and turkey leg from a gaunt black haired child dressed
in rags and then back handed her. She cried out, falling into the lap of
another soldier.

He
fondled her for a moment. She froze until another yanked the girl up off the
man's lap and then gave her a slap on the ass to get her back to work. She
picked up her tray and hastily left.

Irons
jaw set. The girl had been ten or eleven standard years old. That really
bothered him. If he had been on foot...

“Now
is not the time to start an incident Admiral,” Sprite said quietly. Irons jaw
set. “Please tell me you aren't spoiling for a fight,” she said sounding
exasperated.

“I'll
try to behave,” he said.

“Right.
Try,” she sighed. “I guess that's the best I am going to get out of you,” she
said.

“Something
I have observed. The so called soldiers are all Terran. And all male,” Sprite
said.

“Interesting.
No aliens? What about Neos?” he asked, turning away from a woman shaking a fur
out into the street. Dust and dirt was flying everywhere.

“You
mean other than that skin of a Neo wolf?”  Sprite asked. Irons grunted. “I'm
assuming it's a Neo from what's left of the build. No normal wolf at any rate.”

“Wonderful,”
he growled. One of the other passengers looked over to him. He shifted
uncomfortably and then looked outside once more.

The
carriage bounced off a rock. He could feel the jar. The seat didn't even have
cushions. “I could have walked faster than this,” he grumbled. He noted the
traffic jam up ahead. A person dressed in blue and red livery was on a stone
pedestal in the center of a town square and from the look of things, was trying
to direct traffic. Trying was the operative word. But someone's overturned cart
had bogged things down to a crawl. Dozens of people milled about, some
shouting, some patiently waiting.

He
looked around once more. He took another long hard look at the buildings
nearest them as he tried not to sigh in exasperation. The buildings were crude,
wattle and daub affairs right out of the history books. Their roofs sagged. The
windows had no glass, just drapes of cloth or animal hide. Most had stone
chimneys that churned out black smoke. Some areas were as dry as kindling,
others were wet and moldy. Piss poor engineering and architecture. The air was
thick with smog in some places.  It formed a  haze that fogged out the distant
buildings, which were probably more of the same he mused darkly.

“I
suggest we get out and walk if you want to make the appointment,” he said as he
started to get up, pitching his voice to the guide sitting on the roof.

“I,
um...” The man shaded his eyes with his hand and then grimaced at the mess. He
tugged on his hat strings a few times before seeming to come to a reluctant
decision. “I agree. My apologies ladies and gentlemen for the unseemly mess and
well...”

He
jumped down and opened the carriage door. The five passengers piled out. The
Admiral looked behind them to see others getting out of the carriages behind
them. He snagged his duffel and slung it over his shoulder.

“What
is going on?” Miss Mayfair asked. She hiked her brown skirt and came over to
them. Somehow she'd gotten native dress. She must have looked the planet up
somehow. Odd, he didn't have that much data to go on... well, then again, maybe
she saw the heading about a medieval society and put it together with social
customs and dress of the times and planned ahead. She was a smart lady after
all.

“Traffic
jam. We're on foot if we want to keep to the schedule,” the Admiral answered,
nodding his chin to the square beyond. She turned to the guide, ignoring him.

Irons
snorted softly. Ever since he'd started up a relationship with April, Willis
had turned cool and had stopped flirting with him. That was fine with him, he
didn't want another relationship.

“Unfortunately
there is a problem and we need to make better time madam,” the guide said
waving to indicate the square. Instead of cleaning up the mess there was a
brawl going on as people fought over who's fault it was, and who would clean
the mess up. Most of the guards around the square were leaning against their
pole arms, taking bets instead of breaking up the fracas.

“Perfect,”
Mayfair muttered under her breath as the crowd grew. She shuddered a little
then grimaced. “Well, if we must we must.” She lifted her chin. “Have someone
stay with the baggage,” she ordered, not looking back to her assistant. The
assistant nodded.

“You
folks coming?” the Admiral asked, already ahead of them. “I'd like to get there
before nightfall. I have no idea if this place has muggers, but I don't want to
find out the hard way.”

Mayfair
shuddered and shot a glance at Miss Willis. Both hurried to catch up to the
Admiral.

Mayfair
turned to the guide a few minutes later. “So tell us a little of this world.”
Willis, on his other side nodded. Neither seemed happy about the close
proximity of the guide, but they needed something to do to pass the time. They
also appeared to want background information despite the rank smell of the
man's breath. Hadn't anyone told him onions and garlic were a potent
combination?

“What
do you want to know madam?” he asked cautiously.

“A
medieval colony?” Willis smiled invitingly.

It
was too much for the man to resist. It seemed that a pretty lady asking leading
questions could always draw out a  man. “I do not know that word. Briev has
always been like this.” The man waved to the castle they were approaching.
“Such strength and beauty,” he said. There wasn't a note of awe in the voice
Irons realized. More of a hint of fear.

“That's
one way of putting it. One kinetic round would flatten it,” Sprite said dryly
for the Admiral's ears only. “Eastern European and Russian colony bought out by
a conglomerate of back to nature nuts about a century before the war. Tight
immigration, limited off world contact. The castle and town were built as a
tourist trap for ships passing through. It looks like they found other uses
once civilization fell.”

That
would have been nice to know before he'd gotten on the shuttle. He might have
stayed... no he really did need a break from the ship. He'd recognized the
signs of cabin fever, made worse by what had happened to April. He needed a
break and new surroundings to get his mind off things.

“When
the dark fell we were prepared, by the great grace of his majesty Pyotr the
first. Pyotr the great. He led our ancestors to build such magnificence as you
see around you. With much more. MUCH more!” the guide said with enthusiasm.

“Their
majesties have ended the years of war by the lordlings and have taken us all
under their just and wise rule. United, our people will lead us all back into
the light.”

“I
bet,” Sprite said dryly. The Admiral snorted softly as the climbed the hill
path to the castle gates. “It's even got a moat and drawbridge,” Sprite
observed, tone of wonder and amusement.

“Just
go through good folks. We shall meet the seneschal within,” the guide urged
waving them onward. They nodded, passing over the moat. The Admiral warily
picked his way over the slippery and rotten wood. His sensors helped with that.
Willis wrinkled her nose as a man sat on the bridge, drunk and taking a piss.
Irons noted it and suppressed a laugh with great effort. The man was peeing
into the wind, with predictable results.

“Oh
boy. The IQ of this planet gets lower and lower the longer we are here,” Sprite
sighed.

They
paused near the portcullis as the others caught up. he warily looked at the
murder holes in the ceiling and arrow slits in the walls. Fortunately none were
manned.

“This
castle was built to defend us should the evil Xenos come to conquer our lands.
From it their majesties rule supreme. Do give them every deference. They will
not suffer fools lightly, and have been known to send men and women to the
block for exercising their tongues to much,” the guide cautioned. “Even such as
yourselves.”

“Oh
joy,” Sprite sighed as they continued inward. “Bet that wasn't in the
brochure.”

They
passed through the courtyard, noting the crude wooden buildings there. He noted
the gallows, with a blood stained block nearby. Willis looked that way and
shivered a little.

He
looked and noted it, as well as the small truck garden. A chicken coop with
lizards, some goat like creatures, and diffident soldiers, bored and standing
around. A pair of them were harassing a woman. More like molesting, Irons
thought looking at them. The woman was upset, but didn't fend them off, just
stood there and trembled like a leaf as one of them tormented her. Her hands
clutched around the laundry basket in her arms.

One
man flicked his pike, hooking the edge of the wicker basket and pulling down to
spill the contents. She started to cry. One of them started to gloat. He looked
at them, glaring. A guard captain caught his look, looked at where he was
looking and barked an order. The men looked at the captain sullenly and then
moved off.

A
pair of guards were marching around the inside of the quad. They were dressed
in something like Russian garb. They were each wearing some sort of tall wool
and fur hat piece and furs on their shoulders and boots. They marched in lock
step unison, kicking their right leg out and simultaneously bending their right
elbow and clenching their right fist over their heart. Then they repeated the
action with the other side. It was a strange gait, something he wouldn't want
to have to train for, let alone do around and around in a circle for a long
period of time.

The
gaunt woman curtsied to the captain who turned away with a curled lip. She
bent, picking up the clothes, ignoring the whistles from the other guards. He
shook his head.

“Yeah,
this place gets better and better every minute.”

“A
complete lack of empathy. And I'd say no spine in that woman.” Sprite said.

“Soldiers
have a higher social status than women in a medieval society. They are valued
more and therefore are coddled. Bad behavior is tolerated,” the Admiral ground
out between clenched teeth. All of which was obvious. The younger guards were
clean shaven and lean. The older guards were fat slobs, with long beards and
hair. Personal grooming wasn't a part of their daily chores apparently.

Willis
looked his way and frowned, shaking her head. Her eyes were flashing
dangerously. He sighed. “No, I don't approve. Not in the slightest. If they had
been my men...”

“You'd
have keel hauled them,” Willis said with a nod. For once there was a note of
approval in his being here.

“Something
like that,” he answered as they got to the door to the main hall. She nodded
and turned back as they filed inside to their seats.

A
little while later the crowd was getting a bit restless. He looked around,
bored with studying their surroundings. When more guards slotted into
preplanned positions he knew something was up.

They
were in the keep, in the main chamber. There were fireplaces along the outer
walls, all soot stained. Stag antlers and other animal heads were on the walls.
The wood rafters above were blackened with soot and age.

There
was a small carpet in the center of the room, it was red, but stained from
repeated use. It's borders were trimmed in gold and the center had some sort of
crest on it. He couldn't make it out since there were so many people standing
on it. Most likely it matched the banners hanging around the room though. The
furniture was wood of course, set along the outside of the perimeter. There
were a lot of people in the center of the room, facing a raised dais and pair
of thrones. Most likely they were subjects. From their dress and manor they
were minor lords and ladies. Mayfair and the other Pyraxian delegates were in
the front row, shifting about nervously, trying not to gawk like tourists. One
had a camera out, taking photos. He sighed. So much for image control.

The
banners flared in a sudden breeze. He heard a creaking sound. Yes something was
happening.

“Did
you notice the crest?” Sprite asked, bringing up an image of a wolf and dragon
onto his HUD. He waved it away. He didn't have time to focus on trivialities
now.

“All
kneel before their majesties!” the bailiff at the door thundered, smartly
rapping the bottom of the staff onto the flagstones. The rank and file knelt.
The Admiral's eyes darkened. He was in the viewing gallery above, which had
standing room only. He looked around. The visiting off world people there had
their heads bowed. A guard gave him a dark look. Irons raised an eyebrow at
him. The scowl darkened further. He shrugged it off and turned to watch the
royal couple come in.