Free Stories 2014

by Baen Books

  William could hear men shouting well before he got to the inn. A few weeks earlier, Dawson had been forced to sell it to a local Tory named Wilford. Wilford was permitting Dawson to pay an exorbitant rent as well as provide hospitality for Sir Arthur. Wilford had let it be known that Dawson would soon be kicked out and on his own, a source of concern for William, Dawson and May.

  William entered the stable and stood beside Dawson. Major Harper had turned red from anger and William wondered—hoped—that Sir Arthur would explode.

  “Dawson, you will get your money when I give it to you. Nigel, my servant, is responsible for maintaining my funds and he will see to it that you get what you deserve and not a penny more.”

  William shook his head at the comment. Nigel was a sneak and a snake. He would steal and cheat for his master—who didn’t realize that Nigel was taking a large portion for himself. May told William that Nigel was cruel as well, and he had beaten her for declining to sleep with him. William hated Nigel for that and only May’s firm insistence that he not kill Nigel kept that man alive.

  Dawson continued. “I expect to be paid in full. You’ve been here for weeks now, taking up space and eating my food and I’ve received nothing in payment. And now you’re going north with the army? Sir, if I am not paid, I will take it up with the sheriff and your commanding officers.”

  Harper roared with laughter. “And those fine people will do nothing. They know what is going to happen in the future. All of this nonsense about democracy and equality will be meaningless as people of quality like me will be in charge and you will be as nothing. And as to my paying you, your lodgings were miserable and stank of horse shit, and so was the food you provided and for both I was criminally over-charged.”

  “But you agreed,” Dawson said with a hint of desperation. William didn’t like to hear that from a man he very much admired and who had been a good friend. But Dawson was not rich and the inn, soon to be taken from him, was his and William’s source of livelihood.

  “And that’s another point,” Harper said angrily. “Where I come from, people like you don’t argue with their betters. Nor do they shake hands, which is a disgusting habit. They bow slightly and touch their forehead with their fist. You will learn how to do that when your abominable revolution, which is an insult to God and king, is finally crushed.”

  He shook his fist at William. “And you, sir, will once again find yourself a slave. You appear to be slightly white, which simply means that a white ancestor of yours fornicated with a black. Nothing wrong with that, of course, I’ve done it a time or two myself. Would have done it with May who is doubtless also part white, but the haughty bitch turned me down. That said, you are still black and you will be black forever, and blacks have been condemned by God and are not truly human. They merely have human shape and are sometimes able to parrot apparently intelligent sounds and even play music. Blacks are kept as slaves for their own good. They would not be able to function in a civilized white society. Doesn’t what is happening in Africa and Asia prove that?”

  “I thought money had somewhat to do with it,” William answered drily and heard May giggle. He’d heard these points before. “And I’ve heard that England is thinking of abolishing slavery.”

  “Insolent shit,” Harper said. He raised his hand as if to strike William then thought better of it. William was larger, stronger and impressively muscled. He would crush Harper like a bug. And there was that large knife in William’s belt.

  Harper pulled himself up to his full height. “I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning. Right now I’m going for dinner with friends who appreciate who I am and what I do. My luggage is locked so that people like you cannot get your dirty hands on it. I don’t care if we are going to a forest, I will go as a gentleman. Nigel will see to my baggage’s going north. Expect him and cooperate with him and perhaps you’ll get some money.”

  After Harper disappeared, they looked at each other. “Now I truly understand why the colonists rebelled,” Dawson said. “This is what we have to look forward to if the British win.”

  “Don’t you mean when the British win?” said William.

  “Indeed,” said Dawson while May nodded sadly.

  William grinned wickedly. “Then why don’t we get our pound of flesh while we can?”

  Dawson nodded although he didn’t quite get the allusion to Shakespeare. They went to Harper’s room and saw the major’s three trunks stacked against a wall. As Harper said, they were locked.

  William turned to May. “Do you still possess that unique skill that almost got you hanged?”

  May examined the locks. “Just like Harper, they are cheap.”

  She took a pin from her hair and had them open in a few seconds each. They were filled with Harper’s finery. A number of crisp and clean uniforms had been neatly stacked in the trunks. Harper wouldn’t be back until almost dawn and would sleep until noon. Nigel was their only concern and he’d gone out on a last night of drinking as well.

  William took out a uniform and began to cut it into little pieces. He then took a second one and a third. The others joined in until Harper’s immaculate uniforms were nothing more than a pile of sliced rags.

  “We could be hanged for this,” Dawson said, but he was smiling. “But we won’t be since we won’t be anywhere near this place this time tomorrow. The new owner wants me out of here; well, he’s going to get his wish. I’ve gotten tired of this place, anyhow.”

  William and May laughed and continued their destructive efforts.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  They turned in astonishment. It was Nigel and he’d returned early. He reached the trunks and quickly pawed through what was now a collection of rags. “What have you done? What do you expect Sir Arthur to wear? Migawd, you will hang for this, all of you, but not until after you’ve been flogged to ribbons.” Nigel was so angry he was frothing at the mouth. He knew he would be held at least partly responsible for the vandalism.

  “Harper can go stark naked like a red savage for all I care,” said Dawson.

  “I’m getting the sheriff,” snarled Nigel, his pinched face red with fury. He was about to say something else when his eyes widened and his whole body went slack. May gasped when she saw William’s knife sticking out of Nigel’s back, right where his heart would be. Nigel slid silently to the floor.

  “Leave the knife in him for a while,” William said. “It limits the bleeding and that means there’ll be less for us to clean up.”

  Almost numb with shock they waited and continued to put Harper’s rags back into the trunks which they re-locked.

  “Now what?” asked Dawson.

  “It’s gotten dark. What we will do is strip him, wrap his worthless ass in a blanket and drop him in the river. With a little luck, he’ll wash out with the tide and never be seen again. Even if he is found and anyone asks, we’ll say he went out as he usually does and didn’t return. Obviously, he was the victim of some bandits or outlaws. If he isn’t found, maybe the noble Sir Arthur Harper will think his loyal servant deserted. Unless, of course, someone has a better idea.”

  No one did. They wrapped the corpse in an old and stinking horse blanket and took him down to the Hudson River which was only a few score yards away. They walked quietly and in silence, holding their breath, concerned that someone might see them. They were especially fearful that the watch would see them and ask what the hell they were up to.

  They reached the river without incident. May said a small prayer and Nigel’s remains were consigned to the sea. They watched for a few moments while his pale body drifted away. “He should sink and won’t bob back up for a couple of days,” said William and no one wondered just how the powerfully built black man knew about things like that.

  “What shall we do now?” Dawson asked after they returned to the inn. “If Harper finds that we’ve gone, and Nigel is missing, he’ll get suspicious.”

  “I suggest we act normal. We should go to bed and try to get some sleep,�
� William said.

  May slipped her hand in his. “Stay with me and we will help each other sleep.”

  Harper returned to the inn after noon and greatly the worse for wear. He was angered to find that Nigel was not present and that he had, according to Dawson, gone north with the trunks several hours before.

  “People from the Quartermaster’s came shortly after dawn and told Nigel that the carriage and any baggage had to leave immediately. He said for us to tell you that he’d left with them in order to keep an eye on them.”

  This was almost the truth. They had loaded the trunks onto the carriage and then hired a man to take them north with the military caravan, which was already leaving. With luck, the honorable major would not find or open the trunks for several days. With a little more luck, he might deduce that he’d been betrayed and diddled by Nigel who had clearly deserted him.

  “Damn it all,” snapped Harper. “Now I’ll have to travel for a while in what I’m wearing. Damn.”

  Dawson bowed slightly and managed to look humble. “May I please suggest that you consider paying me?”

  Harper laughed as if it was the funniest thing in the world to him. “Even if I wanted to pay you, which I don’t, I can’t because Nigel has all my money. Everything I had with me last night I managed to lose, which is why he keeps track of my funds.”

  William turned away. They already knew that his lordship was broke. They had found a surprising amount of money in Nigel’s clothing and in the trunks. The noble major would have to beg or borrow to sustain himself in a lordly manner in the wilderness.

  A short while later, Harper slowly rode away on one of the inn’s remaining horses. It had not been paid for. The money the three had taken would more than compensate.

  Dawson grinned. So far they were safe. They should not press their luck. They talked and quickly decided to take everything of value that belonged to Dawson and simply ride away. William would set a slow-burning fuse to some rubbish that would set a fire in the inn that would spread to the now empty stable. They hoped it would further cover their tracks and infuriate the new Tory owner. There had been so many fires in New York since the revolution that one more might not seem significant.

  As they rode north to where they could leave Manhattan Island, Dawson asked the question that was on all their minds. “Now where?”

  William answered. “They say that Philadelphia is called a city of brotherly love. I say we check that out. There are thirty thousand people in Philadelphia and we should be able to both get lost and earn livings while we wait to see what will happen.”

  Behind them, bells began to ring as a thin tendril of black smoke began rising.

  STEALING ARTURO

  by William Ledbetter

  I tried to stay awake and upright as the elevator bucked and jerked its way down the spoke into the Earth-normal gravity of Ring One's sleeping level. The lights flickered as the weight settled over me, pushing my exhaustion deep into every cell. I didn't know how much longer I could take it. If the power failed and left me stuck in the elevator again, I might turn into a raving mad man. Would I really ever escape this station? Were the months of covert effort wasted?

  Felicia spoke, but her voice was there and not there, a feathery touch that revived memories of her fingers brushing back my hair. "You can do this. I believe in you, but you need sleep. And a shower."

  I snorted and hugged her canister to my chest with one hand and scratched my two day old beard with the other. She was right. It had been nearly as long since I'd showered or slept. Extended periods working in the hub's micro gravity always did this to me, but I had little choice, time was running out.

  A hand appeared before the lift door had even opened halfway, grabbed the front of my shirt and yanked me out into the corridor. Since I didn't have my gravity legs yet, I fell directly to my knees. The two Security "officers" laughed, and the one with red hair--whom I had long ago assigned the name Meathead--gave me a little shove with a highly polished boot and I further lost my balance. I had enough warning to at least tuck Felicia's canister against my chest before I toppled over like a crippled old grandpa.

  A foot pressed on the back of my head, trying to shove my face into the thick grime that had accumulated in the corner over the decades. Dust and debris were sucked into the air filtration system on low gravity levels, but down here, where the poor people lived, filth collected like it throughout human history. Bits of plastic and a rusted screw decorated the black gunk only inches from my mouth, but I pushed back and rolled over quickly, causing Meathead to lose his balance and stumble backward.

  I fought the centrifugal gravity and struggled to my feet, ready to kill the crisply uniformed bastard. As I braced to head butt him, before he regained his balance, I heard Felicia's voice in my head.

  "Don't be stupid, Clarke. You're only four days away from your escape. You can't to be arrested now."

  She was right, but I had to at least put up a token fight or they'd get suspicious. I gave the two goons a withering glare, tucked Felicia under my arm and tried to push past them. They grabbed my arms and shoved me against a bulkhead.

  "Lieutenant Eisenhower sent us to ask about your ice production quota. He thinks you're holding out."

  "I don't give a shit what Eisenhower thinks. I don't answer to him. I was hired by the station management."

  The goon shoved me again, making my head bang against the wall. "That's Lieutenant Eisenhower. You need to show some respect."

  "Lieutenant is a rank that implies either training or experience and he has neither. He's just the head guard dog and that doesn't demand respect in my book."

  The second goon--the one with dark hair and beady eyes--took a swing at me, intending to pin my face between his fist and the bulkhead. I dodged, but not quite fast enough and his punch glanced hard off of my cheekbone, then scraped my cheek with his wrist comm as it continued into the wall.

  He cursed and punches from both assailants rained down on me in a flurry. I bent low, intending to take a few hits and then try to dart between them, when someone yelled.

  "Stop hitting him, you big turds!"

  Everyone stopped and turned to see a scruffy young girl in patched clothes standing just behind Meathead. She looked to be around eight or nine and I recognized her as the girl who lived with her mother two doors down from my cabin.

  "Get lost, kid!" the dark haired guy said and made a half-hearted swipe at her.

  She didn't budge, just glared back at the man.

  Both officers laughed, but threw no more punches. Instead, in an unexpected snatch, Meathead grabbed Felicia's canister from my grasp.

  I straightened abruptly, shoved them both backward and grabbed for her can, but missed.

  Meathead hefted it like a school yard bully playing keep away. "I think we'll have to confiscate this."

  "No, you won't," I said.

  They glanced at each other and grinned. "We already have, Kooper."

  I shook my head slowly. "I don't think you understand. If you decide to keep my property, then you'll have to kill me or imprison me. And in either of those cases, you and everyone on this station will die within a couple of weeks after the water runs out. As your boss already mentioned, my production level is way down. We have about a week's worth of water in reserve. My predecessor already picked the local area clean of icy rocks and they're getting tough to find. Without me, you won't find any ice. Nor will you be able to bring a new ice miner in from Mars or Earth quick enough to stave off that rather ugly death. Of course the managers and your boss will probably hoard plenty for themselves, but do you think you'll get any?"

  Meathead shifted his stance and glanced at his partner.

  "And if you let me go, but still keep my property, then I have at my disposal forty-nine mining robots, each with a laser capable of burning right through the hull of this station. I wouldn't have a bit of trouble finding your cabin and I don't even have to hit you with the beam. I'd just wait until you were asleep
and open a hole in the hull. Then pfffftttt you'd squirt into vacuum like a long string of goober paste."

  The kid laughed and Meathead's face flushed red.

  "Or you can give that back to me and we'll pretend this never happened."

  "Give it back to him!" the little girl said. "Are you morons trying to get us all killed?"

  Meathead's buddy poked him in the arm. "Just give him the damned can and let's go get some grub. Eisenhower didn't tell you to take his stuff anyway."

  I smiled and nodded, then winced at the pain in my jaw.

  Meathead tossed Felicia's canister in my direction. It tumbled and I did some silly juggling to keep it from hitting the floor. The goons laughed and by the time I had it tucked it safely under my arm, they were strutting down the corridor with their backs to the girl and me.

  I took a deep breath and dabbed at the blood trickling down my cheek.

  "You're a dumbass," she said.

  I shrugged and slipped past her. "And you have a foul mouth. Go home before you get into trouble."

  She followed me. "Me get into trouble? I saved your ass! If I hadn't come along they would have beat you into pudding."

  "I guess I do owe you some thanks, but you shouldn't have done that. Those guys wouldn't hesitate to hit a kid."

  I palmed the lock plate on my door. It slid open and I nearly dropped Felicia as the kid slipped past me into my dark cabin.

  "What the f--" I growled then heard Felicia again.

  "Don't yell at her, Clarke."

  I took a deep breath and paused just inside the door. "Let's have some lights, Calvin."

  The cabin computer turned on the lights and I could see her sitting in my only chair, legs dangling as she examined a power regulator module from one of my mining robots.