by D L Frizzell
Redland clear his throat. "I'm gonna guess you've never been here before," Redland said. He was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.
"Huh?"
"We don't want to miss the meeting, do we?" Redland asked.
"Sorry," Alex said. "No, I haven't been here before."
"Take a raincheck, kid," the marshal said. "There'll be plenty of time later." He led Alex into an adjoining corridor, peeked inside a door, then waved him in. Alex looked around, then hurried through the door.
Chapter Twenty
The briefing room was laid out theater-style. A long desk covered the length of a stage before twenty rows of seats that angled up to the back of the room. A map of Arion dominated the wall behind the stage. Celestial City sat at the center of the map, with the bulk of the Plainsman Territory reaching to the edges.
The room was about half full, with officers in the first two rows, and non-comms behind them. They were all engaged in conversation with one another, not noticing the marshal and Alex in the rear. Redland sat at the end of a row, put his boots up on the seat in front of him, and dug a piece of dried meat out of his pocket and started chewing it. He motioned for Alex to sit next to him.
Colonel Seneca entered a door at the left end of the stage, walking with Captain Darcy Hathan-Fen, a redhead from the Rekeire Province.
"She's cute," Redland whispered to Alex. "And pretty good with a gun, I hear. My kind of girl." He winked at Alex, who only frowned back at him.
Seneca placed a briefcase and a bundle of rolled maps on the desk while the captain walked to the map. She turned a crank on the wall, causing the map to scroll horizontally until Celestial City was near the right edge. A thick, jagged line designated as The Plutonic Ridge came into view on the left side of the map. It began at a point in the southern hemisphere and ran until it nearly reached the great volcano at the north pole. She stopped turning the crank when large letters appeared behind the Plutonic Ridge. They spelled out Jovian Nation. When soldiers saw this, they began to murmur.
Seneca kept himself busy spreading out his notes and unrolling a map on the desk until he noticed Alex and Redland in the back. After making brief eye contact with Redland, he handed a stack of information packets to the captain and whispered some instructions. The captain gathered up the packets and stood to the side. The conversations stopped when Colonel Seneca picked up a pointer stick from the table and cleared his throat.
"Many of you weren't in the militia during the Jug invasion ten years ago," Seneca began. "Those of you who were may not have gotten the full story. Politics being what they are, much of what happened was classified. In light of recent events, however, I've decided to fill you in on the details. First, it wasn't a Jug invasion. It would have been better to call it a Jovian invasion, since the jugs were merely pawns in a larger scheme concocted by The Guile."
A number of shocked, and some not-so-surprised, comments came from the audience. He let the soldiers absorb the information.
"The Guile has always held some kind of animosity towards us," Seneca continued. "We don't know why. Their previous leader, called The Sophic, had been making overtures about resuming trade across the Crumbles. But after his untimely death, his son took the honorific title of The Guile and succeeded him. Less than a year after that, the Jugs tried to invade our territory, presumably to take control of our sap groves.”
“How could the Jovians conscript the Jugs when they hate each other?” one of the younger officers asked.
“Historically, the Jovians have fostered rivalries with all of their neighbors over the last two centuries, the Jugs in particular,” Seneca replied. “We don’t know how he got them on his side, but we know for a fact that's what he did. And it looks like he's managed to do it again."
"The Jugs don’t have a formal government," A captain in the front row argued. "They're nomads who deal with matters on a tribal level. As easily antagonized as they are, though, they don't go looking for trouble. I doubt The Guile would be able to rally their whole nation together for a cause that doesn't affect them personally."
"It may be The Guile found something that is personal to them, maybe something they have in common," Seneca countered.
"We know the magnetic quakes on the plains have been increasingly frequent over the last few decades," the captain said. "Maybe it's happening on The Schism Plate, too, and they're being forced from their homes."
"We honestly have no idea what's happening in their quartersphere," Seneca replied. "Maybe it has something to do with the quakes. Who knows? That’s more of a question for the academics than for soldiers. We need to deal with the possibility that we will soon be at war with both Jugs and Jovians alike."
"If we knew why they're throwing their lot in with the Jovians," the captain said, "we might have the key to changing their minds."
“Good point,” Seneca answered. “Unfortunately, as you pointed out, they are easily antagonized. I don't have a problem with open dialog, but we don't have time to find a place where they are not offended by our mere presence. Captain Hathan-Fen is familiar with the jugs and how they think. Captain?"
"The only thing we know that they respect is brute force,” Hathan-Fen began as she pointed to a wide gray area stretching along the Plutonic Ridge on the plainsman side. “They consider the Crumbles their sacred hunting ground. If any foreigner gets caught traveling there, they are summarily executed for trespassing. Until now, this has held true for anybody, regardless of their nationality. If the Jugguards really have forged an alliance, then this means the Jovians may control the high ground of the Crumbles, as well as the Narrow."
"Excuse me," a young lieutenant raised his hand. "What is the Narrow?"
Seneca tapped the pointer at the only break in the Plutonic Ridge, a small gap situated fifteen hundred kilometers west of Celestial City. "It sits here, at the top of the Crumbles. It's essentially a giant crack, where the planet's crust has settled enough to create a small canyon through the ridge."
"That can't be the only way to travel between the territories," the lieutenant stated.
"It's the only way to move an army through," Seneca replied. "The Plutonic Ridge is still young enough as a geological formation that it hasn't developed any other major flaws. The cliffs on this side of the ridge are over a kilometer high in most places, so the only other ways around the ridge are south of the equator and north of the sixtieth parallel. Both routes would take a great deal of time, as well as present extreme temperatures to deal with."
"The Narrow wasn't always a bottle-neck for conflicts between the territories," Hathan-Fen added. "It was actually paved when the planet was founded. The Founders hoped to open the canyon up further, but their technology began degrading soon after they landed. There is no passage around the other side of the planet, as the Volcanic Riftlands are too volatile, so the Narrow is the only viable path between the two quarterspheres."
A sergeant in the second row raised his hand.
"Sergeant Guzman," she said.
"Ma'am," he asked, "Why haven't we set up an outpost there?"
"We couldn't support an outpost,” she replied. "The pass is above treeline, and there isn't enough runoff from the ridge to support a settlement.” She indicated the grey area separating the Narrow from the Plainsman Territory. "The other disincentive to having an outpost there is the Crumbles. Boulderlanches are just about the worst natural phenomenon in the world, and they’re pretty common along the entire Plutonic Ridge. This in itself has effectively deterred a great deal of travel between the nations."
"Geographic difficulties notwithstanding," Seneca noted. "The Jugs have been just as much an obstacle to the Jovians as they’ve been to us. At least, until ten years ago."
“Didn’t we put them in their place, though?” Guzman asked. “I’d think we’d have complete control of the Crumbles after their first invasion failed.”
"After the Jugs were defeated," Hathan-Fen pointed out, "they showed no desire to help The Gu
ile further. But that doesn’t mean they hate us any less. They’ve still attacked anyone entering their sacred hunting grounds, regardless which side they come from.”
“So, that means anyone who wants to invade will automatically be at a disadvantage,” Guzman said.
"Right,” Seneca replied. “That’s what we’ve relied on for the last ten years, so something has changed. If The Guile has convinced the Jugs to join him in another invasion, we are looking at a serious change in the balance of power."
"Do we know for sure that it was Jugs who came into the city?" another soldier asked.
"We are trying to establish that now," Seneca replied. "Marshal Redland came in from the Sheers Territory to help us with our investigation. At the very least, we have substantial evidence that Jovians, probably aided by Jugs, were at the incident on the Celeste."
"What's the next step, then, sir?" One of the sergeants asked. Alex recognized him from the Celeste. "If it was Jugs and Jovians, they must have headed back home in a big hurry when they were discovered. That means they've got a two-day head start on us."
“We’ve identified horse tracks that indicate the invaders are making a run for the Crumbles, which is about fifteen hundred kilometers from here.” Seneca indicated a number of trails that crossed the Plainsman Territory on the map. “I doubt their route would vary much from the trails, since they’ll need frequent watering stops for their horses. We figure it will take them a month to hit the Crumbles.”
“We won’t be able to catch them,” a lieutenant from the mechanized battalion said. “Our trucks can outpace their horses any day of the week, but they’re susceptible to breaking down in magnetic storms. With the increased guster activity recently, I expect the trucks wouldn’t last two hundred clicks before the engines fry.”
“I agree,” Seneca replied, “which is why we're taking the train at Maglev Canyon.”
Seneca was answered with a long silence from the audience.
“You’re assuming the train wouldn’t kill us on the way,” the sergeant spoke up again, visibly displeased with the plan. “The way I see it, if the trucks aren’t even reliable in a magstorm, the train’s going to be a helluva lot worse. I don’t think that thing’s ever made a run without hurting someone. How is this a good plan…sir?”
“Don’t lose your bearing, soldier,” one of the officers warned him.
“I’m sorry for any disrespect,” the sergeant said. “I’d like an answer to my question, though. I’ve got men who’d be riding that damned contraption.”
Seneca saw the doubtful looks among his soldiers. “I understand everybody thinks it’s too risky to rely on the train,” he said. He pointed to a horizontal line that ran south of Celestial City and ended at the marshlands near the Crumbles. “Since the invasion ten years ago, we have spent a great deal of time and resources finding ways to improve the railway. I won’t go into much detail about it here,” he glanced at Redland, who had leaned forward to listen, “but suffice it to say the canyon is now the perfect resource to use for this type of situation.”
“The canyon,” Seneca continued, “is a bit out of the way. The plus side is that we can get to the Crumbles in half the time the Jugs will. I’ve been told the train can carry half a dozen trucks and enough horses to take a platoon to within a day’s travel of Edgewood. If all goes well, we will have a week, maybe two, to set up a skirmish line from the desert to the marshes.”
“You said we’ve been working on the railway for a decade,” a captain from the engineering company said. “If that were the case, wouldn’t we know about it?”
“I’m going to assert rank’s privilege here and say it’s classified,” Seneca said. “I will give you this tidbit, though. Reports of the railway being out of service over the last several years haven't been due to repairs but expanded construction. The maglev is ready, people." With another glance at Redland, he put his pointer stick back on the table and gathered his papers. “Captain,” he waved Hathan-Fen over, “if you would distribute the orders, please.”
“Yes, sir.”
Alex turned and leaned in close to Redland. “What is he talking about?” he whispered.
“Hell if I know,” Redland said. “I’ve always heard the maglev was a death trap. That bastard must have been sending false reports to the Council.” When he saw Seneca coming up the stairs towards them, he nudged Alex away and smiled cordially. “Ho, colonel.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to bring a visitor, marshal.” Seneca gave Redland an angry stare. “This meeting was for authorized personnel only.”
“I heard that, too,” Alex replied icily.
“No need for hostility, Jim,” Redland said, the smile fixed on his face. “I just didn’t get a chance to tell you before the meeting. Mister Vonn here works for me.”
“What?” Seneca asked.
“Well, I haven’t had a chance to get his final answer, seeing as I’ve been so busy.” Redland pulled a metal oval out of his pocket. A star was etched on the face, circled by words that read Plainsman Territory Marshal. It matched the one he wore on his chest, except that his was from the Sheers Territory. “I’ve made Alex an offer to become my deputy and act in my place on this little mission of yours.”
“What?” Alex asked.
“If he wants it,” Redland continued undeterred. “Look, I have an escaped prisoner on the loose somewhere, maybe headed towards your fine city. Since I can’t be in two places at once, and since you require Council representation in these matters of high importance, I thought it fittin’ that this young hero takes my place.” Redland bit off a piece of his jerky and chewed it for a second to enjoy the look on Seneca’s face. “He’s more than proven himself in my opinion.”
Redland held the star out to Alex, who stared at it. “If you want it, it’s yours,” he said.
“Alex,” Seneca urged. “Don’t.”
Alex stared at Seneca, still angry about being shut out of the meeting. “I accept.” He took the star.
“Fine,” Redland said. First order of business is to get my horse and gear ready. Deputy Vonn, head to the corral outside and saddle him up. Big black horse. His name’s Jaeger. I’ll be out in a few minutes.” He cocked his head towards the door to dismiss Alex.
After Alex walked out, Seneca knelt down before Redland and lowered his voice. “Why did you do that? You’ve got no cause to bring him into this. He’s just a kid, and he doesn’t know a damn thing about what’s going on here.”
“Not to worry, Jim,” Redland took another bite of meat. “I have my reasons.” He stood to leave, then had another thought. “I recommend you send a rider to Ovalsheer,” he said. “You need tell them another invasion is comin'.”
“Isn’t that your job?” Seneca asked.
“I’m not goin’ that particular direction yet,” Redland answered.
“My rider left six hours ago,” Seneca told him. “I figured you’d be unavailable.”
Redland tipped his hat to Seneca, then left without another word.
Chapter Twenty-One
Redland exited the command building and found Alex standing dutifully next to his horse.
"Here," he tossed Alex the bag of coins he'd taken off the dead T'Neth. "Your first payday."
"Thanks," Alex said, feeling its weight in his hand.
"Call me marshal," Redland said. "And don't thank me. You'll hate me soon enough."
"Yes, marshal."
Redland mounted Jaeger and tested the saddle. Alex had adjusted it correctly. "Well done," he said. "I'm guessin’ you don't have a horse of your own, though."
"No, sir."
"Get one. I hear there’s a good dealer by the western gate," Redland said. "I need to check outside the city, beyond the place you found the blanket. Join me there when you’re ready."
"Okay," Alex replied.
"Better buy some travelin’ gear, too. Hat, duster, gloves. Get some boots, too, dammit. Your shoes will wear off in a week. The outfitter at the town center ha
s everything. Leather’s best, just make damn sure you don't look like me. People will talk."
"Yes, marshal," Alex said.
"I'd bet you've never fired a gun, either," Redland added. Alex gave him a blank look. "You'll need to get one. And a machete, or some kind of blade. I don't care what. Just make it short enough to fit on your thigh, and long enough to be a decent weapon in a close fight."
"Got it."
"Meet me outside the city when you're ready," Redland said as he turned to go. "Oh, and Alex..."
"Yes, Marshal?"
"My previous deputy didn't work out very well. See that you do better."
"Yes, marshal."
As Redland rode off, Seneca came out of the building and approached Alex. "You made your choice, then," he said to Alex. "You think you can live with it?"
"I expect so, Colonel," Alex replied as he pinned the star to his shirt.
"Listen," Seneca said. "I can't help that he deputized you, but I understand why you wanted it."
"You don't want me coming along,” Alex stated.
"No, I don't," Seneca replied. "You're not prepared for it. That being said, I doubt you're going to change your mind.
"Nope."
"We've got some traveling ahead of us, and we'll have some free time along the way," Seneca told Alex. "Redland may have given you the star. I'm going to get you ready."
"Ready for what, colonel?"
"War, deputy." Seneca handed him a piece of paper. "Here's my orders giving you complete access to the garrison and any resources you deem appropriate. You won't be stopped at the front desk any more. You're an official representative of the Alliance Council now, along with the perks and drawbacks that come with it."
"Thanks," Alex said, and pocketed the document.
"Do what Redland tells you," Seneca said, "but heed what I say, too. We leave for Maglev Canyon soon. Be at the southern gate in two hours, or you're on your own."
"Fine."
Alex rode out of the city gate an hour later, riding a bronze-colored Palomino. It was still a young horse; Alex was its first owner. Its coat glistened in the sunlight, matched by the sheen of the brand-new saddle on its back. Alex wore black denim cargo trousers with a cream-colored linen shirt. On his head, he wore a wide-brimmed hat that was the same style as Redland's, except it was black to match his own preference. Redland's was brown, so Alex figured that was different enough. He had a black duster as well, along with some other clothes he brought along, which were rolled up in his saddlebag. He hadn't put his pistol belt on yet, and wasn't even sure of the fit, though the clerk at the outfitters assured him it was right. He had a short sword, also new, tied to his saddle horn. It bounced against the horse as he trotted across the sand.
