When he walked out onto the square, he really was a mixture of emotion. He was relieved that it was over, he was still excited by the battle, and he was sickened by the carnage.
The flames had only scorched the stone fronts of the old houses, but he couldn't bring himself to look at the bodies yet. He felt his stomach clench. A wave a nausea flooded his mouth, and he had to run out of the courtyard and empty his gut over and over. And still the vision of the flaming man was before his eyes.
****
The gunman lay crumpled face down in the red dust of the street. A wisp of smoke curled away from Mitzi's six shooters. Mitzi looked around. In that window protruded a rifle barrel. From the door of the hardware store, Uncle Olek with his big old horse pistol looked out. And there was Mitzi's mother, gathering up the family pistols from his brothers and sisters. He might never know exactly who shot Black Bart, but he or his family, it was the same.
****
Mitzi bent over and grabbed another chunk of rock. With a quick twist of his shoulders, he threw the rock to the pile at the edge of the field. It just wasn't fair. After everything that happened, here he was picking rocks again. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
Then he heard a familiar whistle over the hill. Aleksy was home! He hurried out of the field just as Aleksy came to the wall. "Aleksy, you're back!"
"Yes, when the news of your difficulties came to the ear of the count, he insisted that I hurry home to help. But from what I heard in town, I'm too late. You have already saved the day all on your own."
Mitzi grinned, and then his face fell. "Yes, I guess we did. But Aleksy, you didn't see it. It wasn't like the book, not the same at all."
Aleksy nodded, and the two of them walked toward the village together, not speaking. When they came into the village, Mitzi shouted, "Aleksy is home!"
That brought everyone out of the houses. Herr Piotroski slapped Aleksy on the back. "It is definitely time for a party tonight."
****
That night, the table was set up in the courtyard. Everything had been repaired after their encounter with the thieves, but the town still felt uncomfortable with the awful truth.
So the first thing they did that night was hold a torchlight procession out to the hill near the manor. There they placed a sign on the mass grave dug in the hill. And it said:
"Here are the graves of twenty-seven men.
They came to steal our food and burn our houses.
They never left."
New Olbermann Grange
The Lesser of the Two Evils
Jack Carroll
The Duke of Saxe-Weimar's hunting preserve
"Yuck!" Seth Turski stared morosely into the pot he'd just snatched off the campfire. The hot cereal didn't look all that bad, but the burned smell was enough to give the dry heaves to a coyote. He was probably going to need sandpaper to get the pot clean again.
Dave Mora looked up from the plate balanced on his knees, where he perched on a chunk of firewood in front of his tent. "Oh, boy, you gonna eat that?"
"Guess so. I didn't bring anything else. It's that or hike back to town without any breakfast."
Jan Brinker went on washing up. "Be glad you have a choice. Plenty of times I didn't. What happened, anyway?"
"Didn't stir it enough. I got busy breaking camp, and forgot it for half a minute too long. The heat goes through that tin pot's bottom before you can blink. It doesn't weigh anything in my pack, but I swear, this thing's an invention of Stan." He took a spoonful and made a face.
"Stan? Who's Stan?"
Seth snorted. "You never heard of Stan? Well, there's Satan, and then there's Stan. Stan is the lesser of the two evils. The Prince of Dimness. Lord of the Fleas. Perpetrator of petty plagues. The wannabe of wickedness."
Jan looked back at him. "I don't think I ever saw anything like that in scripture. Do they preach that at your up-time Sunday school?"
"Oh, heck, no. It's just something Grandpa used to come out with back up-time, when stupid things went wrong. Just a tall tale of his. He blamed stuff on Stan, to get it off his chest, I guess."
Dave waved his fork. "Oh, like they talk about gremlins and kobolds over at the labs? What's Stan supposed to do?"
"Well, you remember when your folks would be driving down the main drag in Fairmont, and every traffic light you came to, it'd turn yellow just before you got close enough to go through? One of the works of Stan."
"Oh, yeah. Hey, I can think of one. How about when I was late getting started on a book report last month, and they thought some guy from Flanders had it checked out, but it was really in a pile waiting to get checked back in?"
Jan grinned. "Perhaps he put something slippery on the steps of the school bus. My sister went flying off and caught the hem of her dress on the hinge. She spent sewing class repairing the rip, instead of working on her lesson."
Saint Martin's in the Fields, Rudolstadt
"Pastor Kastenmayer! Do you know what's going on at that heretical Methodist church this time?"
So much for an uninterrupted daylight hour in his study to outline a sermon. Kastenmayer looked up at his parishioner. Jacob Blohm tended to be excitable at the best of times.
"Generally I do, yes. I've learned that it's necessary to keep in touch with the other clergy in this town, odd as some of them are. What are you referring to?"
"An evil being they're talking about! One called Stan, completely unsupported by any Biblical authority I can find!"
"Ah, yes, I do know about that. It has nothing to do with theology, and nobody actually believes in him. It's merely a tale for the entertainment of children, like the Easter bunny or the tooth fairy. The Boy Scouts who meet there like to make up campfire stories. Compared to some of the things I've heard of Scouts doing, this is by far the lesser of the evils. So you can set your mind at rest. Is there anything else I can do for you today?"
Venice
The door opened, revealing the bright sunlight dancing across the gentle ripples on the canal below.
"Monsignor, this is a travesty! It's one thing after another. I knew the appearance of Grantville was a danger to the true faith."
"You refer to . . . ?"
"Not contented with appropriating the name of Saint Phillip for a society embracing those of any faith or none at all, now those interlopers are making up theology out of whole cloth and spreading it on the wind! Travelers coming from there tell of a malicious spirit called Stan being spoken of in the streets, never before heard of anywhere! The name sounds English. Possibly a corruption of one of the ancient Norse legends."
"Really? That might bring trouble. Do they venerate this one in any way, or seek to league with him?"
"No, by all reports they only heap scorn on him."
"Hmmm. That's something, at least. But thinking of the Society of Saint Phillip-and I really wish they would be more explicit about who Captain Ed Murphy was, what he actually said in a moment of exasperation, and why he said it-perhaps you might write to Father Nicholas Smithson. Calmly, of course. He would certainly get to the bottom of it and send us an honest report.
"Such a thing is error, certainly, but far less serious a matter than this open warfare against the Holy Father that we must deal with. At this moment I'd have to say it's the lesser of the two evils."
Aerial Donkeys
Herbert Sakalaucks
Saalfeld Railroad Station, April 1635
"Where is the local?"
Karl looked at the station agent, who shrugged. "I don't know, Herr Alpendorf. Reinhardt telegraphed when the train left Kamsdorf, but then closed down the station and went home. He didn't say if they were having any trouble. But if the local's delayed another thirty minutes, I'll have to hold you for the southbound from Grantville. The traffic's gotten so heavy, I can't delay a train that's running. They may only be talking about war coming, but if this is just talk, I'd hate to see what our traffic will be like when war breaks out! The steel mill is working overtime
and shipments are way up. We're using every engine we have. It's your decision if you want to wait. If something broke down on the local, it might not arrive at all and your wait would be pointless."
The decision was clearly Karl's, along with the consequences. As the head conductor, Karl was responsible for seeing that his train arrived on time. Management was less and less accepting of conductors whose trains were late. He needed to get his train moving as soon as possible.
Karl jogged to the engine and swung up into the cab. Nobody there seemed to share his concern about the missing local. The fireman raked the fire to spread the coals. He tossed another shovelful of coal in and then closed the firebox door. He sat down on his seat, pulled his cap down over his eyes and started to snore. The engineer didn't even turn when Karl entered the cab. He just rapped the water level to make sure it was true and then turned a valve to slowly add some water to the boiler. Karl reached over and tapped him on his shoulder to get his attention. "Gunther, I want you ready to roll just as soon as I give you the highball. The local's over twenty minutes late and we have to make up time." Gunther just nodded and went back to checking the gauges. Karl couldn't remember Gunther ever saying more than five words at a time, but his trains were never late because of mechanical problems.
Karl realized waiting in the cab wouldn't get the local in any faster, but it might make the crew upset. So he swung down, out of the cab, and paced back down the platform. He had to do something. He pulled out his watch and checked the time again. It was only four minutes later than the last time he checked. He stopped and took a deep, long breath to relax. The decision was his. He had been on this run for three months now and was third in seniority on the railroad. For someone twenty-two years old, that was exceptional. He snapped the watchcase closed. He was very proud of that watch. He'd been presented the watch by Mr. Lowe himself when he made head conductor. They were very expensive, but kept very accurate time. The railroad considered them a safety investment, and only had enough for their head conductors. He slid the watch back into his vest pocket. He'd give the local another ten minutes, then they were leaving. As soon as he had made up his mind, in the distance he heard a familiar "Aahooogah." It was a Goose's horn. The local had finally arrived.
By the time Karl reached the platform on the last car, the Goose had emerged from the trees across the river. It was struggling to pull two freight cars. The extra load explained the lateness. As the Goose pulled on to the side track, the station agent signaled for it to stop alongside the last passenger car of the train. As it rolled by, Karl checked for riders. The passenger compartment was full! With a squeal of brakes and sparks, the Goose came to a stop. The station agent quickly placed a step at the rear door to help the passengers down. Immediately, all the passengers tried to get off at once and jammed up at the door. The station agent called out, "One at a time! One at a time! The train won't leave without you."
When the first passenger reached the ground, Karl called out, "All aboard for northbound passengers. We depart in two minutes." Passengers scrambled to retrieve their luggage from the Goose's baggage compartment. Karl helped them board while the harried agent passed out their bags. Karl calmly announced, "Please show me you have a ticket. Anyone for Grantville or Rudolstadt, I'll punch your tickets now. Everyone else, I'll punch them later. Grantville and Rudolstadt passengers remain in the last coach, through passengers go to the first coach." He did a double-take as he helped a pretty, red-haired young lady to board. He had seen her before, but hadn't had the nerve to talk to her. He made a silent vow this trip would be different. He was determined to get to know her better. All he knew now was that she traveled from Kamsdorf and, from her clothes, she was probably an up-timer. He turned back to the line as the next passengers stepped up. Two workmen showed him their new employee passes and asked, "Ludwigstadt bahn?" From their dress, they were heading to the end of track to start working. Karl quickly replied, "Nein, dreissig minuten, Sie gehen nach Suden," and pointed south. They nodded and stepped back to wait for the southbound train. Karl helped a last family of four to board and then picked up his signal lantern from the platform. Swinging it side to side so Gunther could see, he called out, "All aboard. Let 'er roll!"
Gunther gave a short pull on the whistle as a warning. Then a cloud of steam poured from the cylinders, as the wheels spun, briefly, for traction. As the train slowly started to roll, Karl grabbed a handrail and let the momentum pull him up. He waved to the station agent and then entered the coach. He made his way through the Grantville crowd and went to the first coach. He punched the tickets for the through passengers and hung them on the hooks above the seats to show they had paid and remind him when they needed to get off. By the time he was done, they were almost to the Ring Wall. He hurried to the car's mail room and unlocked the door. He had only a short time to sort the Grantville and Rudolstadt mail that had just arrived. With a practiced ease, he tossed the letters into the waiting sacks. The remainder of the trip to Grantville passed quickly. A whistle sounded in the distance.
The southbound train was waiting at the switch for them to clear. As soon as their last car passed, the yardman threw the switch and the southbound train whistled for departure. As the northbound rolled into the Grantville depot, Karl leaned out the door and tossed the Grantville mailbag at the feet of the waiting mail clerk, who was also the station agent's oldest son. Karl then hurried back to the last car. He opened the door and called out, "All out for Grantville!" The station agent and his youngest son already had the steps positioned to assist the passengers down by the time Karl reached the back platform.
The odor of fresh-cut lumber, mixed with the usual steam, coal smoke and oil scents, was heavy in the spring air. Karl looked up. The new passenger platform was almost completed. Soon the passengers wouldn't have to worry about getting wet when going to or from the station. The railroad was trying to accommodate the rapid growth in the number of travelers. Along with the new structures, new rails were a priority and tracks were already being relaid to shorten grades and distances and replace strap rail. Right now, the platform work was stopped. The workers were taking a break, waiting for the train to depart before resuming work overhead. The straw boss seemed perturbed by the interruption, but the workers took the opportunity to admire the young ladies that detrained. Through the crowd, the agent hurried over to Karl. "You arrived twenty-five minutes late! The northbound freight will have to wait an hour for you at Jena."
Karl took out his watch. "You're right, twenty-five minutes. We've got fifteen minutes in the schedule to load and be off. If I keep standing here chatting, we won't be able to make any of it up. If you can get the mail and packages loaded, while I board the passengers, that will save at least ten minutes." He gave Joseph a pat on the back and turned to the group of waiting passengers. "All aboard for Magdeburg and points in between!" Four minutes later, the train pulled out.
A quick glance into the mail room revealed only a lone mailbag and some luggage had been loaded at Grantville. Sorting would go quickly. Hopefully, they wouldn't have to stop at Rudolstadt. No one was ticketed for there.
As they approached Rudolstadt, Karl could see the signal arm was down. More passengers to load! They wouldn't make up any time here. He repeated the routine from Grantville and managed to make up a whole minute. With no local passengers, the last coach was temporarily empty. He headed back to the first coach to see to the needs of his passengers. The next stretch was the longest on the route. Maybe he could finally get a few free minutes to meet the young lady and chat with her. He entered the mail compartment and quickly sorted the Grantville bag. The day promised to be sunny, so he extinguished the fire in the small stove and quickly rehearsed the introduction he planned to use with the young lady. Straightening his coat and hat, he opened the door and stepped out into the passenger compartment. The object of his attention was seated alone, three seats away. Just as he reached her, the elderly grandmother across the aisle tugged at his coat sleeve. "How long until Jena?
"
"Three hours, Grandmother." The reply was automatic. He turned back to the redhead but the interruption caused him to completely forget his prepared speech. Instead, all he could come up with was, "Do you travel this way often?" As soon as he said it, he wished he had just kept walking down the aisle. It sounded so trite. The smile on her face as soon as she realized he had spoken to her drove the embarrassment away immediately.
"No, this is only my second train trip. I'm on my way to Imperial Tech." She glanced around the car. "It looks like we're the only young folks on this trip. I was hoping we might have a chance to talk. I remember you from last time. You were so busy; you never said a word to me." She tried to pout, but almost giggled.
Karl's heart nearly skipped a beat. She remembered him! He stood there, lost in his thoughts for a second, before he remembered to answer. "I remember. That was my first week as head conductor for this train. I was so nervous about not making a mistake on the new job, I couldn't think of a word to say." And I'm still having trouble! Karl took a deep breath to relax and then continued. "It's been three months since I started this run and now I think I know every bump and sway in the track." Just then, the train passed a rough track section and the car gave a sharp thump. He held up a finger for emphasis. "And there should be another just . . . about . . . now!" Just like a musical conductor signaling a drummer, the car gave another thump as it reached the end of the rail section. They both laughed at the timing.
She gave him a thoughtful look and then asked, "Aren't you a little young to be a head conductor? I always thought they were old men."
Karl nodded. "Normally you would be right, but I started as a trainman before the railroad opened for business. My father was the foreman who helped build this section of the railroad and I worked on his crew. When they posted the job announcement for trainmen, I already knew the route and the engineers. Mr. Lowe decided to take a chance on a younger man and now here I am!"
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