by Eric Flint
But he was a very good press man. Jabe's talent for listening and drawing people out stood him in good stead, and Kurt von Kessel helped him hone his writing style into one more suited for journalistic writing. Some of Jabe's colleagues got mad whenever a lazy reporter simply passed off one of the division's press releases as a story; Jabe always took it as a compliment.
After the first couple months of its existence, even Frank Jackson had to admit the Joint Armed Services Press Division (as it was formally known; a Marine wag had dubbed them the Fightin' Flacks, and the name had stuck) was earning its keep. Most of what they did was routine. In addition to the duties Major Bloss had outlined at the first meeting, they conducted regular briefings with the press.
Military protocol had tightened considerably now that Torstensson was in overall command of the USE's troops. But in keeping with Major Bloss' command style, things tended to be looser in the Joint Armed Services Press Division. The Grantville office was no exception. Aside from times when formality was required, the four Fightin' Flacks stationed there were on a first-name basis, except for the dour Private Drucker. He was simply known as "Drucker."
Work was starting to pick up. Winter had passed, and the time for the spring campaigns would soon come again. Once the roads dried to something other than the consistency of slimy porridge, the army would on the move again. Until then there were many grand speeches being given and a great deal of morale boosting being done. On this particular chilly March day, Jabe and Kurt were writing up a release based on a circular delivered by the main office in Magdeburg. The emperor had delivered a rousing address to the troops in Luebeck in anticipation of the coming campaign season.
"I wish," said Jabe to Kurt von Kessel as they worked on a statement, "we had a recording of this speech. Reading it can't be as exciting as actually listening to it. We could have had VOA air it and everything. Be good to have people hear Emperor Gustav."
Kurt looked at him thoughtfully. "That's not a bad idea. It'd be even better if we could have him give a speech on television."
"You're actually serious!"
"Come to think of it, I am. Your camera still works, doesn't it? Would it work away from Grantville?"
"Well, yeah. The battery'll go for about two hours on a charge, but—"
Kurt held up his hand. He was onto something good and didn't want to hear any objections. "So you could take it up to Luebeck? And what about something to put into the camera?"
"Tape, I think you mean."
"Yes, tape." Kurt had watched some of his adjutant's interviews and had seen him work his camera. Kurt knew generally how the device operated but was fuzzy on the details. "Do you have any left?"
"I can recycle some sure, but how do we get into Luebeck? The Danes might have something to say about that."
Kurt turned serious. "It's a risk that may prove too great. I'll send a letter to Major Bloss and see what he thinks. But if we can work out something reasonably safe, it really would be worth doing. An address from His Majesty, taped while under siege! It gives me chills just to think about it."
Jabe grunted. "It gives me chills, too."
Kurt nodded knowingly. "It wouldn't do to get captured by the Danes."
"It's not the Danes I'm worried about. It's Prudentia. She's going to go ballistic when I tell her."
* * *
Jabe put off telling Prudentia about the scheme to sneak into Luebeck. No use getting her upset unless and until Major Bloss officially approved the plan; there was a chance that the brass would decide sneaking in would be too dangerous. But when word came back from Magdeburg that the idea was approved, Jabe knew he had to tell Prudentia.
Her reaction was pretty much what he thought it would be.
"You're going where?" A string of particularly rapid and pungent Italian followed this question. Jabe had been trying to learn the language, but when Prudentia got really wound up, she talked too fast for him to catch more than a word or two.
"There's some danger, but we should be okay. The Danes haven't managed to cut things off completely. C'mon, if Anne Jefferson can get into Amsterdam, we can get into Luebeck."
Prudentia's eyes narrowed. "Who's we?" she asked in a dangerous voice.
"Some German Marine named Linn. He managed to make his way to Grantville through some hostile country, so he's been detailed to ride with us."
"Who else?" Prudentia practically hissed the question.
"Sveta."
The volcanic explosion of Italian that followed this revelation was even bigger than the first one. Prudentia had a dislike of the Swedish private that bordered on intense. Jabe chalked it up to Prudentia's prejudice; he believed her when she said was trying to work on changing her attitudes, but it still reared its ugly head from time to time, despite her best efforts. This, Jabe thought, was one of those times. It never occurred to him that she could just be jealous.
Prudentia ran out of Italian and returned to English. "Why her? Why not Kurt? Or Drucker?"
He sighed, irritated. "Pru, you know Kurt can't go into a potential combat situation. And Drucker doesn't speak Swedish. That leaves only one other possibility."
The cold silence greeting that statement was worse than the angry words Prudentia had used up until now.
"Look, Pru, I'm sorry you don't like Sveta. I don't really know why you seem to hate her so much."
"You don't understand a thing, James Byron McDougal, truly you don't. Just go. You'll be safe, I'm sure."
Jabe was angry now, a state he rarely achieved. "Will you even want to see me before I go?"
"I need to get to work."
* * *
Prudentia found she couldn't get right to work after Jabe left. She wasn't used to seeing him like that, and she blamed herself.
After she was done crying, she began to get a little angry, too. She knew Jabe thought she looked down on Svetlana Anderovna because she was a farm girl and illegitimate besides. He truly did not know her well at all if he thought that. Prudentia had an entirely different reason for not liking her. The Swedish woman definitely fit in with an up-timer's standard of female attractiveness, and Sveta's upbringing gave her more in common with Jabe than Prudentia's did. Jabe would probably decide that Svetlana was more suitable as a wife, and Prudentia was sure that Pete and Zula would like her better anyway.
As anger replaced grief and self-recrimination, Prudentia began working on her sketch for the frontispiece of The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. In her current mood Prudentia found it very easy to draw a dead man with a knife in his back.
On the Road, Late winter, 1634
The trip north to Luebeck was every bit as chilly, wet and muddy as the three soldiers feared it might be. The up-timers referred to it as "mud season." It was the time of year generals hated most because it was nearly impossible to move armies anywhere in the sticky morass. At least in winter the roads were frozen hard, and if a commander was particularly lucky, a frozen canal or river might make an excellent road if the ice was thick enough.
Marine Lance Corporal Dietrich Linn rode out in front, keeping an eye on the road ahead. Sergeant McDougal was the ranking officer in their little group, but that didn't mean he thought he knew everything. The press division sergeant told Dietrich that his more extensive experience riding through potentially hostile territory called for him to ride in the lead.
In order to get to Grantville Dietrich had had to travel through contested country. He came from Krefeld, a town on the Rhine that was a center of the silk trade. His family took their surname from the castle in which they'd worked as servants for generations; his mother was a baker. She was also considered quite beautiful and was not particularly discriminating in her choice of bedmates. Dietrich had no idea who his father was. He was probably good-looking, though. Dietrich had heard that others called him "the golden boy," and there had been serious talk about using his portrait for a recruiting poster. He'd done well in basic training and was far more proud of that fact than his good looks.
He didn't expect too much trouble. They were well within the USE, and the chances of encountering enemy raiders were slim. It was somewhat more likely they might come across bandits, but Corporal Linn was confident they had enough firepower to deal with robbers. Each of them carried a Struve-Reardon flintlock rifle and a flintlock pistol sidearm, per regulations. In addition to his general-issue weapons, Sergeant McDougal carried a .22 semiautomatic rifle, his own personal firearm.
"I know a .22 doesn't have a lot of stopping power, but I've been using it for a few years now. Since before the Ring of Fire," the young sergeant had explained. The three of them had been cleaning their weapons one night.
"Why prefer it to the flintlock if it's not as powerful?" Dietrich wanted to know.
"Part of it is rate of fire. This can put a lot of lead in the air in hurry if I need it to. But it's mostly because I can't shoot nearly as well with the flintlock."
"Why not?" asked the Swedish girl, Svetlana. Dietrich looked at her. He found her to be very pretty—she reminded him a little of his mother in looks. But she'd shown not the least bit of interest in him.
Sergeant McDougal grinned ruefully. "The SRG is a great gun, but my problem is the priming pan. It flashes right at the edge of my field of vision and causes me to jerk the gun the instant before it fires. Half the time I'm lucky if I can hit the broad side of a barn."
Dietrich nodded. Despite the fact that McDougal outranked him, the Marine corporal had at first looked down on someone who served in a noncombat role—a REMF, as his up-time Marine comrades put it. But during this trip he'd come to respect Sergeant McDougal. He had good instincts, as proved by the fact he used his up-time rifle. Dietrich knew that Sergeant McDougal's problems with the flintlock rifle wouldn't have been a consideration if he were in a line, firing in volley. But if the three of them got into a firefight with bandits, accuracy would count for far more.
The three of them passed some more time in conversation. Every attempt Dietrich made to get Private Anderovna interested in him was politely rebuffed. He decided to cut his losses and go to bed. Maybe next time, if she had more to drink, he'd have better luck.
* * *
Svetlana stayed in the common room with Jabe after Corporal Linn went to bed. She was used to her sergeant's reticence, but he'd been even quieter than usual lately. His explanation to Corporal Linn regarding his rifle was the most he'd said in days. She'd gotten to know Jabe well enough over the past couple of months to know something was bothering him.
"You've been quiet the whole trip so far," she said.
Jabe smiled a somewhat strained smile. "I just haven't had much worth saying."
"Something's wrong. I'm happy to listen."
Jabe sighed. He signaled to a serving woman for a tankard of beer; Sveta declined his offer to buy her one.
"What makes you think something's wrong?"
Sveta just looked at him, saying nothing. Jabe muttered something she didn't quite catch, involving the letter "x" and a longer word—"chromo" something.
"It's just that Prudentia and I had a big fight before we left Grantville. She didn't want me coming to Luebeck. It seems like we've been fighting a lot lately."
Svetlana tried her hardest to be properly sympathetic. She was sorry Jabe was in distress, but it did not sadden her in the least to hear that he and Prudentia were having problems. It made her hopeful, and she tried her absolute hardest not to let that hope show.
Anders Jensen had not been a terrible father, but the fact was he had not legitimized her. Nor would he, which is why Svetlana had adopted her Russian-style patronymic, "Anderovna," as her surname, dropping her mother's family name. She was Anders's daughter, whether or not he chose to officially acknowledge her. There would be no dowry for her unless she earned it herself. Almost everywhere this would have severely limited her marriage prospects. Her father expected to be consulted if she decided to marry, of course, but probably wouldn't care enough to make any objections to almost any prospective husband she might find.
In Grantville, though, her marriage prospects would not necessarily be limited by her bastardy or lack of a dowry. People there were judged on their merits. Gretchen Richter was a camp follower, and she married a respectable up-timer. Not only did Gretchen not have a dowry, she also had a lot of dependents. And Sveta knew Gretchen was not the only woman of her station to make such a match, just the most famous. It went both ways; after all, hadn't her hero, Julie Sims, been allowed marry a man who was—like Sveta—illegitimate? Granted, Alex Mackay was well-regarded by no less a figure than Gustavus Adolphus, but he was a soldier and Julie was the daughter of a respected town professional. And yet no one had raised any objections to the match.
Svetlana was beginning to feel, more and more strongly, that the young man sitting in front of the fire with her would make an excellent husband. Prudentia Gentileschi was, in her opinion, stuck-up and spoiled. What did an artist's daughter have in common with Jabe, anyway? Svetlana knew that she was far more suitable a wife for Jabe McDougal than Prudentia Gentileschi.
Luebeck, Late winter, 1634
For Jabe, getting smuggled into Luebeck was an anticlimax. The siege was tight enough—movement into and out of the city was very restricted by the League of Ostend—but there were more than a few cracks to slip through. The mysterious (to the Danes at least) destruction of a half-dozen ships in the Truve River estuary had made them nervous and forced them to loosen their grip on the port at least somewhat—loosened enough so that it was possible to smuggle small amounts of supplies into the city.
People could also be smuggled. Jabe, Svetlana and Corporal Linn were conducted into Luebeck one dark, cloudy night and shown to quarters in the city. Sergeant Elizabeth Buchholtz, of the Thuringian Rifles, took charge of Sveta. The two women had met when Sveta had tried to get into the sniper company. Jabe and the German Marine were quartered with a friendly merchant family eager for news and gossip from outside Luebeck. Jabe, though tired, was willing enough to oblige as a way of thanking his hosts for the food and hot bath they provided.
Jabe had a hard time getting to sleep that night. The last few days he'd found himself confiding in Svetlana more and more, especially when it came to the problems he'd been having with Prudentia. Jabe had always been someone who preferred a handful of close friends to a large circle of acquaintances, but most of his high school friends were scattering, drawn into the military or the world of possibilities offered for up-timers in the rest of the USE. He considered Kurt a good friend as well as a CO, and Sveta had been especially friendly and interested in his problems.
There was a part of Jabe—a small part—that wondered if Svetlana Anderovna weren't more "right" for him than Prudentia Gentileschi. There were times when he wondered what he and Prudentia were doing together.
Whenever his thoughts began traveling down this path, Jabe began to wonder what his life would be like if Prudentia weren't in it. Invariably, he felt a tightness in his chest and a sharp pain began somewhere near his feet and corkscrewed up through him. On paper the son of a coal miner and the daughter of an important painter had no business being together. On paper, Jabe thought he and Svetlana made far more sense.
But Svetlana didn't make him feel that he could do anything he put his mind to. Jabe thought of a recent selection for the "Dinner and a Movie" club: As Good As It Gets. Prudentia made Jabe want to be a better person; he didn't have that feeling about Svetlana, or any other woman for that matter. Still, it was good to have someone he could exchange confidences with, and he felt he needed a woman's perspective on things. As he finally drifted off to sleep, Jabe tried to ignore the nagging feeling that he shouldn't be confiding these sorts of things to another woman.
* * *
One of the emperor's junior adjutants came to get Jabe the next morning. The weedy young Swedish lieutenant struck Jabe as very high-strung. Maybe he was one of those people who needed tension to keep him together. As the two made their way toward Gustavus' headquart
ers, Jabe laid out his plans for his brief stay in Luebeck. He started to speak in German, but the young officer said he wanted to practice his English, so they used that language instead.
"I'm not worried about working around His Majesty's schedule, sir," Jabe told the adjutant. "I'm happy to take as much time as he can give me. And I'm also hoping to speak with some of the grunts and get their view of things."
"Grunts?"
"Sorry, sir. That's a slang term from up-time. It means the ordinary soldiers, the privates and low-ranking noncoms."
"Grunts." The Swede repeated the word as if tasting it. He smiled. "I rather like it. It has a sort of rough charm. How good is your German, Sergeant McDougal? His Majesty's English has improved a great deal in the last year or so, but it is far from his best language."
"I think my German's pretty decent, sir. I hope so anyway. Private Anderovna is a native Swedish speaker, so she can help me over the rough spots, if that's okay."
"I'm sure it will be."
They spent the rest of the journey through town going over protocol. Gustavus was far less touchy about such things than most monarchs, but there were still proprieties to be observed. Jabe didn't think he'd have any problems; his big fear was that he'd be so nervous in the emperor's presence that he'd be paralyzed.
* * *
Svetlana watched Jabe work. There wasn't much for her to do at the moment. Most of those present could communicate in German if not English, so aside from the occasional rough patch, Sveta wasn't needed as a translator.
The first task had been to find a well-lit room in which to tape His Majesty. Jabe explained that, while his camera had a built-in lamp, it would drain the battery relatively quickly. Once the battery was drained, the camera would not function without another source of power. Therefore, it was best to find a natural light source so that the quality of the picture would be as good as possible.
Svetlana was amazed that Jabe, normally so quiet, could be so assertive. Once a suitable room had been found, he sat the emperor down and began setting up his camera. Gustavus rehearsed his planned speech a couple of times, and then Jabe clipped a small device—a microphone—onto the royal personage. He connected the other end to his camera.
