by P. S. Power
"Lazy and soft. Next time we need to bring sticks so that we can beat them if they don't have better things, like you told them to. No wonder the others wanted one of us with you. These people will take years tutoring you. I won't." He seemed to be pretty satisfied with that idea too, but didn't actually make eye contact with her.
The trip home was boring again, with no one to talk to, but there was a bit of activity in the front of the house when they reached their destination. It seemed to be something being unloaded for some reason, from the back of a lorrie wagon. The kind that carried goods from airships to wherever they went. Gwen had loaded and unloaded dozens of them herself, so she knew what it was, but why it was there she didn't get. It seemed to be filled with casks of something or other. At first she wondered if it might be explosives, but no one would be that stupid, trying to take out Park Street that way.
No, if they were going to try that, they'd sneak something in and make certain they were well away from the place before they set it off.
The men working on it didn't look at her overly, except for one of them, who stared pretty openly for a bit. He had no hair and seemed like a linebacker from a football team. Or at least like what they'd look like at thirty, if they were on a television show. He also had a pierced ear and after a few seconds a baffled smile. It was enough that the man that was trying to hand him the next barrel let it bump against his chest pretty hard, making him grunt. That didn't take the grin off his face.
"Curly?" It would have seemed out of place, saying that, if it hadn't been her nickname on the Peregrine. "Long time no see girl!"
Gwen smiled back and walked over, knowing that she recognized him. She even knew from when, though she kind of forgot which ship he was from. Right until she said his name, then it came back.
"Givens. Finally come to show me that good time you talked about? A little cheeky, just showing up like this, but I guess I can't be too picky, you traveling all the time like you do. Or did they finally kick you off the Griffin?" She winked at him, which got the other men with him to go really still. The big bald man looked down and blushed, which was kind of cute and made him seem more like a little boy than a gay biker.
"You'd think, right? But no, kept me on and everything. Hardly scream at me anymore even. We're just filling in, since we've had some crew shortage problems at the airfield. People going off to join the air navy, since the attacks. I'd get you to help with this part, but you don't seem dressed for it. Delivery for Katherine Vernor. Overage that hasn't sold yet. Brandy." The man looked off at the lorrie she'd just gotten off of and shook his head. "If you want you and I can head out back and start in on one of these..." The funny thing was, even though he was clearly teasing, he also wasn't, in some way. James was walking over, a large billy club in his hand, which got passed to Peter who was glaring at the man as his friends all stepped back.
Gwen laughed.
"Hell no. Not if there are shortages of workers at the field. We need everyone sober for the duration. I'll be out tomorrow to help, first thing. Is the Peregrine in?" It was amazing how easily she fell back into the patter that she'd used with the men as a loader. Givens had always been the most flirtatious, but the men on the ship she'd been on had to deal with Groundling and Smitty if they got out of line, which was too high a bar to get over apparently. This guy just had to deal with whoever was in the area at the time. In this case Peter and James.
He nodded, going serious for a moment.
"We could use the help, actually. I think the Admiral has her out for a few days, but should be back by week's end. You can work doing this though, till she gets in, I bet. It doesn't pay as much, but it helps to keep things going. Can't make ship's portion if you have to wait for the load too long. Speaking of which, we need to get this signed for..." He turned and waved to a slightly older man. "Tiggs, got the board? This is Katherine Vernor, she can sign for it all. After she does an inventory."
The other men looked half panicked, but Givens just started moving barrels again and James helped, automatically getting Peter to try, which was nice of him, but he seemed to be a struggle. The casks weren't huge, about five gallons apiece and there were fifty of them, all just being set on the ground. There was a note from Admiral Welk, explaining that she should try to move them, or give them away as gifts, since they were high quality Europan Brandy, but hadn't sold too well for some reason. It was pawn them off on her, or keeping them himself and really, he had enough of them already. It was right there in the note. This was just her part of it, about five hundred mets worth.
At least Winslow had a team of sturdy men to help carry them in, which was still going to take a while. Longer than it did to unload the wagon by far, since they had to carry them further.
"James, do you drink?" Gwen didn't know, but she suspected that most people here did, especially the men.
"Yes, ma'am." There was a hesitancy to the words as if it might be frowned upon, but she just picked up one of the miniature barrels and then tilted her head at the rest.
"Tell the men at the driver's place that this is for evenings only, when they aren't working, but take each one a gift. How many is that? Five drivers?"
He went a little wide eyed and shook his head. "Six ma'am."
They got them into the back of the lorry together, Peter helping with that too.
"You can't drink right now, you're in training." The boy looked at her seriously, as if it were a real thing, but it was a point, hiring tutors and all that kind of made it real, plus she had her floating around practice to do, which was pretty cool, she had to admit, even if it was hard to do.
"Exactly. So, one to Mr. Vernor, if the Admiral hasn't already beaten me to it... Mr. Grimes, his solicitor, Ferdinand and Count Goebbels... Is this nice enough to give to them?" She addressed that to Winslow, since he actually knew about things like that. It was part of his job, along with being hard and in shape enough to repel small invasions. He also went everywhere armed, and had even before the whole terrorism thing.
"Ah... Yes ma'am, as a common gift. It would be a bit out of place if it were for a special occasion, but if you merely send it along with a note, it would be welcome, I imagine. Most proper too."
It was a pain in the rear trying to lug the things inside while wearing a dress, but Gwen did her part, making ten trips back to the storage area behind the main kitchen. It wasn't a part of the house she'd been into before, since the place was huge, but no one tried to stop her. After all, it was her booze. She arranged with Winslow to apportion the things around to all the needed people. Some for the Constabulary Detectives in town for instance, as well as the chief of the uniformed branch, even though she didn't know him personally. It just seemed polite. The professors at the University too. The ones she knew at any rate. She also had one sent over to their headmaster, since he liked to pretend to be a drunk and splashed some on as cologne each day. This way he could smell like a quality alcoholic.
It left her with half the barrels, but things would come up, no doubt. It never hurt to have something on hand to give away.
Or at least it seemed like a good plan. She didn't really have a lot of experience with things like that. Just as she was getting ready to go and see if Ethyl had any thoughts on the matter the woman found her, looking more than a little worried for some reason.
"Dear, might I have a word?" There was a slight tremor to her voice then, as if she felt nearly frightened.
"Um, sure, let's..." Gwen just started walking and let her arm swing out to sweep the woman along. It was a totally contrived move, but she held it long enough to look graceful, rather than pushy. It was clear that Mrs. Vernor didn't want to talk in front of the workers, Peter, or even Winslow, which was strange. That could mean anything though.
When they were in a small sitting room near Robert's study, the nice oak door firmly shut, Ethyl stopped, not sitting, just wringing her hands in front of her nice daywear gown. It had some lace, but mainly a nice cotton body to it for comfort. An a
round the house kind of thing. Frustratingly the woman didn't speak at all. It went on long enough the Gwen wondered if she were about to be told off or something. For what she didn't know. Or rather, for which thing. She'd no doubt broken a half dozen social rules in the last day, so it could be anything at all.
Finally there was a soft sigh, "Robert... he asked me if you'd be willing to serve on that airship again? We haven't wanted to ask, but, well, to be frank... he... we, feel that it might help smooth things over if you were to be seen supporting the family business. It doesn't have to be anything difficult, a few hours a week in the main office perhaps? I understand if you don't wish to, and it really is too much for us to ask." She ended there as if satisfied with her part in the whole thing. Like asking really was some big deal or something. It made sense from a PR standpoint, since they'd taken some real hits lately, mainly due to her. Or at least that situation.
Gwen nodded and smiled.
"On it. Already planning to go and do some work in the morning tomorrow. The Peregrine won't be in for a few days, but I've been assured there's plenty to do. Oh. I hired a Ladies Assistant. From the University? She can act as an initial tutor as well I think. Working on a doctorate in Radiatives. I don't know if she'll be any use in kitchen skills, but it's a start. A bit outspoken I hear, but I probably need someone that's willing to take me to task when I start messing up. I didn't check on everything, but she was wearing a dress when I saw her, and Doctor Professor Grainger seemed to think it was a fine idea. I'm paying her twelve mets per week. I know it's a lot, but she does have to put up with me."
The woman smiled and fluttered her right hand at about chest high.
"No dear, Robert and I are paying her twelve mets per week. That's the part of the parent. As for the work... I should have known that you'd already have thought of it. I always feel bad asking things of you, and you always do them without issue... Thank you. It makes all of this more bearable. Will your new friend be living here?" She actually sounded hopeful about the idea.
"Part of the time, she's not set to start for a few days. Oh, I also offered her use of the lorrie, in town, on her off days. She only asked for Tuesdays, but I'm sure that I'm not so busy she can't have more. So far the louts and mashers haven't had a lot of chance to meet with me as it is. I'm mainly just trying to adapt to your rules here. Even if I don't see the need all the time." She was rambling a little but Ethyl nodded as if it all made perfect sense.
"Very good dear. I've been slightly worried of late, since you spent so much time with Darren Westmorland. I know that he's an interesting man, but... perhaps having the room across from yours isn't the best idea ever? The temptation for him must have been tremendous. If you two haven't been..." She didn't make any crude hand gestures indicating sex, but she might as well have, from the expression on her face.
Gwen winced.
"God no. Ethyl, he's my brother. As in, from my world, not some son you didn't know you'd had. Physically my brother too... There's more... I, well it gets complicated, but there are some people here that are the same as over there... can you get that idea?" They didn't have a lot of science fiction here, but the people weren't stupid, so it might make sense.
"So over there, where you're from, there might be another me?"
"Right, another you, Robert, Winslow and so on. If there is I never met you. Well, Darren Westmorland switched out for my brother, who I didn't know was related to me, about sixteen years ago. Billy ended up here, physically." She nearly stopped there, but then shrugged and flipped her hands at the same time.
"You know Heather?" Gwen waited, never certain what Ethyl would know or not. She was bright, but didn't have the same idea of what, or whom, was important that Gwen did at all. That one she seemed to get however, smiling.
"Lovely woman. I understand she plans to visit us for dinner tonight?"
"Yes. Hopefully. Well, anyway, it turns out that she's the duplicate of me born in this world. Though I assure you, I didn't look like that at all. Really she and Darren are twins, I think. Like Billy and I are. Also..." Now she froze for a second, then took a deep breath and went on. "It seems that Erin Debussey is the analog of our mother and Heather's biological mom. She doesn't know any of this. I guess I should let her know. Probably why she's coming by tonight, if Billy didn't tell her already."
There was a pause that lasted nearly a minute, the woman just looking horrified. She took several deep breaths and nodded then.
"I understand. Well, we'll need to get with the King on this at once and make certain that none of you are put in a position to have to be confronted with her again. I'm so sorry... I keep having to say that to you, don't I? None of this should be happening. I..." She let the words drop and just stood again, looking worried.
"It's not your problem." Gwen patted her arm gently, the smooth cotton warm to her touch. "In fact, I'm pretty sure that Billy has redoubled his efforts to find her, because she is our mother. Not in a good or friendly way either. Those scars all over his body? Our mother tortured him for years, trying to make the perfect soldier. It worked too well, and he eventually killed her, I think. He's been slightly vague on how it all happened, but I'm pretty sure that Erin Debussey is not on any of our best friends lists. No need to worry about us failing when the end comes. Not because of that."
For some reason those words didn't seem to leave Ethyl feeling any happier. Gwen walked with her in silence for a while, having a few hours before dinner. Peter fixed that for her, by having her change clothing and meeting him in the back yard. There he had a pile of stones, about the size of a silver dollar each, and showed her how high he could throw them. It was pretty decent. Nearly fifty feet, with at least some accuracy.
"Now, it takes no more energy to go fifty feet up than five. Or a hundred and fifty. You can go even higher than that if you want. Some people have flown over mountains for instance, so no reason you can't. Right now I want you to go up fifty feet and stay there until I call you down. If you drop before then, I'm going to hit you with a rock. This one in fact." Then as if to show he meant business, he really threw one at her. It stung where it hit the front of her jumpsuit.
It was harder to get high enough up, since while he was claiming fifty feet, he clearly had been holding back and could go a lot higher than that. By the time he wasn't coming close to her anymore she was looking down on the roof of the estate, which was well over five stories high at the little tower room on the right hand side. It had a lightning rod on it and that was at least seventy feet up. She was clearly above that. It wasn't hard however. Peter had just been right about that. Feeling a little daring, she tried to go even higher, pushing the limits of what she could get herself to do. She waited to be called back, but the boy just watched her, and after a minute clearly gestured for her to go up more. That or to get away from him. It amounted to the same thing at the moment.
She was hanging out at about a hundred and fifty feet, just bobbing a little in the air, a slight breeze across her skin, waiting for the word to come back down. Then she waited longer, her breath starting to come in pants. Then gasps. It was like trying to hold a sprint and she desperately needed to come back down, but when she tried, dropping quickly, she got pegged with one of his weaponized garden stones. Right between the legs, which hurt a lot more than it should have on a girl, since it struck the nerve over the pubic bone. She had to force herself back up, even though it felt like everything was starting to burn in her head.
She tried to come down, two more times, before he waved for her to do it, ten minutes later. In all it had felt like half an eternity, but she figured it was really closer to fifteen minutes.
"OK, ouch. I can't say I'm a big fan of the rock throwing thing. Um, I don't like it." She explained instantly knowing that the idea of being a "fan" of something just didn't mean the same thing here. Not at all. She was breathing hard, but all the running had trained her to time her words pretty well, so it didn't sound all that bad.
It turned out to
work against her, since the lack of strained conversation seemed to spur the boy on. This time the event still had thrown rocks, but she had to try and avoid his aim while flying through the trees as fast as she could. Right at the top of them, trying to use the branches for protection. She had a route to follow, but the insane rock throwing Westmorland didn't, so he cut across the path to better get her with the stones, meaning she had to try and fly even faster. That didn't work too well, since her top speed was about the same as her best sprint. She could do it for a little longer, but it didn't go a lot faster at any point.
This time he let her down faster at least, after only about five minutes, and then allowed her get a shower, which she badly needed. Of course, that was his plan. When she got to her room, she was pulled into a little space across the hall by a gray armored form and told to strip. It was Heather, from the voice and size of the suit, but she had her helmet on. There was a bundle of white clothing for her to put on sitting next to two Special Service lances on the low bench. They were plain gray, matching Heather's armor, or almost any normal radiative device, which was what they were. They were also huge and heavy, looking like pointed cones, or maybe closed umbrellas.
Instead of changing, Gwen jogged to her room and got one of the magical sights she'd had made up, just for this occasion. It was on a leather belt, so that she could buckle it in place, but it had little knobs on the right hand side so she could adjust it. It took a few minutes to do, but Heather didn't ask about it. She either got what it was, or was amused by her attempts to decorate things. Then she dressed, which took about seven minutes, even as she tried to race through it. The stuff was heavy and awkward, plus she needed to get into the base garment first, which was a soft, but absorbent, cotton thing in all white. Failure to wear it with your armor virtually guaranteed chaffing.
As soon as she was ready Heather led her down the stairs, not going to the back yard for practice however, but taking her to the front, where Peter was waiting, holding two teletransport spheres.
