by Mark Eller
General Field came to his feet and snapped a crisp salute of respect at Aaron. Aaron returned it with feeling. He did still respect the man and a large part of him felt he was betraying the years of care and all the money Field had put into him. Truthfully, he really had no problem with the General. His problem was with the plans the Militia had for Last Chance.
"You have finally begun fulfilling my hopes for you Turner," Field said approvingly. "Some of our people swore you were a pantywaist, but I told them to give you time. I told them you were suffering under severe handicaps that Colonel Klein does not have. I told them you were more than man enough to come through. It seems I was right once again."
General Mays spoke up. "You said you were ready to spread your influence, private. It seems you are doing so. Very well." He turned to Field. "You may rest assured that we will support you. Preliminary testing has shown that we have a dozen people with some signs of psychic talents that might be of use to you. Colonel Klein can transport a few of them over on his next trip. I will hold some of my choice personnel for when Turner can manage to move a few of them himself. However, I do insist on equal numbers of my people to yours. According to the figures you provided me, you presently have over a hundred soldiers serving with the Colonel. I insist that my people serve in equal numbers. No more of your men may go over until there is equality between us."
Field smiled amicably. "Done. Turner, very well presented. Do you want to go back tonight or do you want to wait until tomorrow?"
"Tonight, sir. My absence for a longer period would be hard to explain right now. Also, I don't want to give anyone time to fill the leadership vacuum my being gone creates. I have some loyal people, but one or two of my lieutenants are less than trustworthy."
Field nodded. "Betrayal is always a danger. Fortunately, the Militia has many people who are trained to ferret out traitors."
"One other question." The black captain looked intent. "In reading over your reports I have seen no mention of the racial makeup of your area. Are the people around you of Asian descent like those near the Colonel?"
"No, sir. My people are pretty much a mixed bag, equally Caucasian and the darker races. There has been a lot of inbreeding over the years so most people are mixed race."
Leaning forward, the captain pierced Aaron with hard eyes. "So you are telling me that I would have no trouble fitting in? I won't be someone who draws any special attention?"
"I didn't say that at all," Aaron corrected. "They will be prejudiced and untrusting of you because you are a stranger. However, your skin color will have nothing to do with that prejudice." The captain made Aaron nervous. There was something wrong with him. Some indefinable clue told Aaron to take great care.
Thank you, Turner. You may leave," Field said. "On your next visit I will require you to remain for a few extra days. Make whatever arrangements are necessary to assure your position during your absence. Rest assured, a new Corporal's uniform will be waiting for you when you return."
"Thank you, sir!" Aaron snapped as crisp a salute as his marred body would allow. Some small part of him felt pleased by the trust implied by the offered rank. Another part felt insulted. Klein was a Colonel, after all. Aaron should be made at least a Major. He was still young by the lights of the Militia, but he had been a member for fourteen years. Besides that, his ability made him rather unique. It grated on Aaron that he was supposed to take orders from sadistic people like Aimes and Johnston.
Then again, what was he griping about? He wasn't coming back here again so the entire question of rank was nothing but a way to artificially boost his ego.
Since the stuff really did grow on a person, he went back to the cafeteria to get himself another meal of pretend leather and mud after he left the yellow room. Finished and feeling curious, he wandered around for a while to see if there had been any changes in personnel or the environs. The constant cracking of firearm practice drew his attention so he soon found himself at the firing range watching raw recruits lying belly down on the ground, barrels aimed towards the back of a bullet chewed hillside where silhouette targets were set up. The air tasted sharply of burnt gunpowder.
Five men Aaron did not recognize fired their rifles while two instructors stood over them and shouted directions. The five were young and inexpert enough that they had to be new. One of the instructors standing over them was Johnston. The other instructor, Clack, was the one man that Klein was capable of taking to the other side and bringing back. Because of this, Clack had a special place in the General's esteem. Like Johnston, he was a sadistic bastard who liked to hound new people. Aaron knew of many cases where his training had caused recruits to suffer serious injury. More than one of those injured men had been unable to be completely repaired even with the help of modern hospitals. A couple had died.
Johnston saw Aaron and left off belittling the new men. Smiling viciously, he strolled toward his favorite victim. Aaron beat back an impulse to walk away. Johnston would not do anything to him. Though the man was an animal, he was not stupid. He knew Aaron was one of the untouchables.
"Hey there, crip, I see they let you back up here with us men."
"I see they have forgotten to feed you to the pigs," Aaron rejoined. "When are you going to give this up and go work in a prison system where you belong?"
Johnston's smile thinned. "The day is coming when I can get my hands on you. I'm looking forward to that. I really am."
"The day will come when I grow so bored with your tiresome threats that I'll have your guts pulled out and wrapped around your neck," Aaron rejoined. "Only one of us is indispensable, and that one is not you."
Johnston pointed a steady finger. "One day they will finish with you. After that you are mine. I've been promised. If I were you I wouldn't sleep too sound at night."
"Johnston!"
Back straightening, Johnston turned stiffly, saw the speaker, and immediately slouched insolently. "Sergeant Aimes, I didn't expect to see you out here where the real people work."
"I didn't expect to see you badgering one of our most valuable people," Aimes rejoined. "I won't have it."
"We are both Sergeants now."
"But I am the one with the General's ear. If you continue this behavior he will hear of it from me."
"Very well." Johnston turned blank unfeeling eyes back on Aaron. "Run along, lapdog. We can talk again later." Ignoring Aimes, he sauntered back to the shooters.
"Thanks," Aaron said.
"Don't thank me." Aimes scowled. "When the time comes I'm going to eat you alive. Not him. Me."
"I never thought any different. Thanks anyway." Aaron walked away from the man because he was Aaron Turner, the General's golden boy, and so nothing could be done to him. It was time to get back home because he really did not like it here.
Passing the conference room on his way to his supply room he saw that the conference was still going on. It figured. Brass seemed to love talk more than anything else.
Apparently, Hill and Gore had returned to add more goods to his pile and then left after throwing a tarp over the supplies, though why they would do that, Aaron had no idea. The pile looked considerably larger and heavier than anything he had moved before. No matter. He might not be as strong as Klein, but he really was able to transport over considerably more weight than the brass knew about. Generally, some days were better than others. This one felt like it would be a particularly good day. If he failed to take it all on his first attempt he would just separate some of it out and send it over in separate stacks, another little trick he had not bothered telling anyone about. He differed from Klein there, too. As best he knew, Helmet could only transport goods if he went along for the ride. Of course, when they saw the entire pile was gone they would know Aaron had been lying to them. However, at this point that did not matter since he did not plan on returning.
Flipping back a corner of the nylon tarp he saw several cases of twelve gauge shells, more than enough weight to comprise a complete load in themselves.
Pushed up against the ammo boxes was a long, low coffin sized crate holding Aaron did not know what, and there was a miscellany of cardboard boxes piled around too. Since a single case of shells sold for at least twenty thousand dollars on the open market, this particular load represented a huge chunk of the general's money. The rest of it, well, he didn't know what the other containers held, but he was pretty sure Hill and Gore would not waste their time stealing petty items.
A note written on yellow paper was attached to the top case. Pulling it off, he read the spidery script.
"Hey, we had nothing else to do with our time, so we thought you might like a few presents to take along with you."
Aaron wadded up the note and threw it on the pile of goods so it would come to Last Chance with him. Hill and Gore had tried something like this once before, about six months earlier in an attempt to curry his favor, and maybe encourage him to bring back more gold coins. Since he did not want anybody to know everything he could do, he had chased them down and made them return half the items. This time…well, since he wasn't coming back he might as well take it all, even if the pile was larger than anything he had imagined trying to transfer before.
The entire load slipped from his mental grasp the first time he attempted to transfer. Grasping it tighter, he held it in a firm mental grip and wished himself home with every ounce of his being. He cast his mental field around it all, felt himself too weak to handle so much as a third of what was there, and then a sudden burst of energy grasped him, filled him in a nebulous, uncertain way that made him think his skin was about to burst from the internal pressure.
Desperate, he searched for a way to grasp the energy with his mind, to shape it and to use it. Energy fired along his nerves…burning-burning…tearing at him-at his mind-at his being. Finally, his thoughts touched on the edge of the energy, pulled it into his conceptual field, and then it was his. Instantly reaching out, he encircled the entire load with his thoughts, brought his store and his cellar to mind and then-
Flicker
With a stagger and a sigh of relief he fell to the floor. That had been one mother of a heavy load. It had been right near his newest limits. Beyond them, really. If it had not been for that unexpected connection he had made there at the end he would have spent half the night getting it all home. Looking belatedly at the tarp covered pile, he realized that his limits seemed to be much closer to Klein's now. That was a huge pile he had brought over. It was too much for him to handle the storing of until he recovered from the trip and his limbs had time to unfold. Still twisted, his arm and his legs hurt and he could feel the strain of them trying to straighten. No, it would be hours yet before he was up to the task of rearranging the supplies. Besides, he had two very lovely gals waiting to see him.
Something red dripped to the floor, was joined by another drop, and Aaron cursed. Great, just what he needed, a nosebleed.
Awkwardly pulling up his shirt, he held it to his nose until the bleeding stopped. Then despite the pain it caused his hips and arm, he slowly pulled himself up the ladder. Cathy and Sarah were somewhere up there, waiting for him. It felt good knowing that somebody waited.
From the level of noise he heard when he left his back storeroom, Bayne's Reading Emporium was apparently packed. Aaron heard a slew of people plus two--and that noise came through a connecting door that had appeared during his absence. The new door covered the opening between the two buildings. It was locked but the latch was on his side, giving him full access to the Emporium whenever he wanted.
Despite his impatience, he waited for an entire half hour while his limbs finished straightening, and as he waited he savored the sounds of his loves and his friends as they played and read and learned. He felt excited to see them all. He was in a hurry to pull Cathy and Sarah aside so he could tell them of his trip. While he waited Aaron cleaned up his bloody face and changed his shirt because the last thing he wanted was to alarm his two women. Then, before the ache was entirely gone from his limbs, he walked to the new door and released the latch.
Amazing things had happened in a few days. At least twenty people were inside the Emporium. New darkly stained hardwood tables and chairs filled the entire room. Doc Gunther read to several people in one corner and Missy's class had increased to eight. A few people lounged on chairs while they studied chessboards, and some played checkers. Aaron raised his estimation of the building's occupants to thirty people once he saw that one of the walls had been opened up to the largest back room. The heat was stifling even for early June so the windows were wide open and the doorway Aaron had paid to have boarded over was once again a doorway. It was open too.
Seeing him, Sarah instantly dropped the book she was reading and leaped to her feet. "Cathy! He's back!"
Cathy, playing chess with someone whose back was to Aaron, started in surprise. She smiled and rose slowly.
"Hey, handsome." Sarah hugged him. "Things have been happening."
Cathy came up to join them. Aaron reached down to kiss her, but she pulled back slightly.
"Not in public, Aaron. That would embarrass me." She flushed pretty red all the way down to the cleavage that he found so fascinating.
Cathy shook her head at the direction of his gaze. "Please don't."
"Well I," said Sarah emphatically, "am not shy." More than a minute passed before Aaron had time to admit that she certainly was not shy. Just to make sure he was fully conversant with her point, she used her lips to prove it again. Cathy moved in for one brief hug and then sidled back.
Releasing Sarah, Aaron looked around at the watching faces, and stiffened when he saw that Cathy's chess opponent was Steven Knight.
He slowly moved Sarah to the side and stepped forward. Cold waves and trembling fear wrestled inside him.
"Mister Knight, I did not expect to see you here." Good, there was not a hint of trembling in his voice.
Steven Knight's face was a mass of half healed cuts and bruises. Purple and yellow hues transformed his normally angry eyes into a swinish squint.
Knight grimaced. "Mister Turner, I don't blame you for not liking me here. I'm not too wild about it myself but my honor requires this of me." Knight drew a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "I talked to my father and my mothers, sir. They told me of your feelings and your warning. I too wish no trouble. I admit that I did have an infatuation for Miss Townsend. I became hopeful she could return my interest when I found she was no longer spoken for. Obviously my feelings were not returned. You have won our contest for her affection so I will trouble you no more on her account. I only ask that you forgive my actions."
Aaron looked at him gravely. "Forgiving is a hard thing to do."
"I understand, sir." Steven turned to go. "I won't bother you again."
"Hold up!" Aaron ordered, stopping him. "I said forgiving is hard to do. It is not impossible. I will try to forgive you, but the forgiving will take time, and I promise that I will never like you. However, I will tolerate you. Please feel free to return to the Emporium whenever you wish. I will not make things more difficult between us than they already are."
Knight nodded. "Thank you, sir. May I continue my game with Miss Bayne?"
"Yes."
"Thank you." Steven turned and headed for the chessboard.
Cathy looked at Aaron and then smiled a welcome to Knight. "I'll go finish teaching him the moves." She gave Aaron one more brief hug and headed back to her game. Stopping halfway there, she turned back to him. "Aaron, that was well done."
"Yes," Sarah added approvingly. "It was. I'm proud of you." And then she forcefully pulled him into the store and closed the door. "We need to talk. You may or may not get angry with me, but I made the best decisions I could."
Aaron grew cold. "What happened?"
"The bank is busted. It turned out that Mister Doland was embezzling money. On top of that, the Kingsfords have borrowed money far past what their property is worth. I went out to confront them and found that they have lost most of their cattle to diseas
e. They sold off the majority of their riding stock and are left with only two hundred head of beef for breeding and twenty horses. As best I can tell it will be at least four years before the Manor will be able to break even, longer before it turns a profit again. The Kingsfords were so far in debt that there was no way they could make things work."
Aaron felt really, really cold. Chills shivered through him. "What did you do?" Gods, what had she done to him?
Sarah drew a deep breath. "Most of the local people had their savings in the bank. I used my temporary authority to repossess the Manor and kick the Kingsfords off the land after giving them two full silvers compensation, and I let the elder Mistress keep her fake emerald necklace. I kept two of the hired hands in the bank's name, and I kept a handyman, Mister Moorehouse, to care for the house and grounds. Aaron, I had to fire the rest of the help. Six people are out of work because I couldn't find a way to keep them at their jobs."
Aaron sighed in relief. He was safe. None of her actions affected him at all. "Hon, that's not so bad. Look, I have money in the lower cellar, a lot of silver bars that cost me nothing. I can easily afford to help those people out. You did what you had to do. I'll do what I can."
Sarah's smile was very tentative. She leaned into him with a hug and a gentle kiss. "Thank the Lord and his Lady. I hoped you would feel that way, so I took it upon myself to steal from you. This is my town and my people, and I just couldn't watch it all fall apart. Aaron, I used three of your silver bars to buy the bank in your name. Since you now own the bank, and since the bank owns the Manor, you also now own the Manor."
"Oh Gods." Aaron slid to a sitting position on the floor. She had done it. She had really done it. "Oh Gods. Oh Gods." He slipped his face into his hands. "Sarah, I don't know anything about running a bank." Zip! Zilch! Nada!" How could she do this to him? "Sell it back." The walls of the room pressed in on him. "Hell, give it back if you can't sell it." Damn it all, the entire community depended on the bank.
