by Chris Hechtl
“Good,” Ryans nodded. “So the molds worked?”
“Yup. Took one apart, made the molds, and then sorted it out. Took a week to get the bugs out of the molds. Once we did we made copies of the parts that can be cast by the cottage industry folks. The whatdya call it, artisans.” He waved to indicate the people in the town around them.
“The brass is a bitch though; tin is still in short supply. Any way to get that sorted out?” Max asked. Scooter gave Ryans a look.
Ryans ran his hand through his hair then took a sip of his own beer. No he thought Duke Sung had sent all he had and that bastard in the port was still holding up the works. He grimaced. “Unfortunately, we're limited on that. There are minute traces here and there that they mine, but the bulk comes from trade with an island kingdom nearly a year's travel away. Most of what's on hand is what we've got. We've got more in a port but there's a bastard holding up the works.”
“Shit,” Max grimaced.
“Yeah tell me about it,” Scooter sighed. “Well, that sucks.”
“Yeah, so we're using what we've got stockpiled...and then?” Max asked.
“We instituted a recycling program. I've already got the pewter drive going remember? Pay your taxes with used brass and pewter. We've also got to train the soldiers to police their brass after a battle so we can clean and re-use it.”
Max and Scooter nodded. “Just as long as they don't try to collect it right after. Damn things are hot.”
“Yeah,” Ryans chuckled. “I'd imagine.”
“And we've got to keep them from selling it. Or pocketing them as souvenirs,” Scooter said dryly.
“Yeah, that too,” Max grunted.
<==={}------------>
Ryans entered the chamber and paused near the door. There was a flash of lightning then a rolling thunder. A few in the room looked up to the ceiling then back to their scrolls.
The Queen was seated on a regal chair, reading a scroll. She had a pair of reading glasses, most likely given to her by Sue. A young, very wet page shivered nearby.
“Mother?” Deidra asked, coming in behind him. He stepped aside before she could elbow him aside.
“What is it?” the Queen asked, distracted and still focused on the task at hand.
“It seems the coastal lords are being battered by storms once more. What we have here is only a taste of what is hammering our holdings. The fleet has been severely battered,” the page reported. She pursed her lips looking grim.
Deidra stopped short, frowned then glanced to the lad. “Go get dry before you catch your death lad,” she said turning to the wet page. He jerked a nervous look to the Queen. She nodded, not looking up from her scroll. Silently her lips moved, reading along.
The boy darted out past Ryans. Ryans glanced in his direction and then watched as Deidra sat. She shot a glance over her shoulder to him and then turned her full attention to her mother.
Her mother sighed and set the scroll down in her lap. She tiredly took off her glasses and rubbed her forehead, eyes closed.
“Bad?” Ryans asked.
“The damage is extensive, but it's too soon to tally. The storm season has only just begun after all.”
“I'd say bad then,” Ryans said. He shook his head. He turned to see the General come striding in with Duke Pryor.
“Did you see this?” the General demanded, waving a scroll. “Of all the effrontery! The Imperium is besieged by the Duluth lice and they dare refuse to send the levy of men?!” the General snarled, clearly incensed. The Duke nodded in agreement.
“Not even a pence!” the General snarled, sitting down. The Duke sat as well. Ryans shrugged and took a seat himself.
“Calm yourself gentlemen,” the Queen said, opening her eyes. She sighed. “I dare say I can't blame them, if the damage is as extensive as they have listed here.” She hefted her own scroll. “They will be hard pressed to get enough food before winter comes in.”
“Food?” the General growled. “You talk of food at a time like this?” he demanded. He waved his own scroll angrily.
Deidra placed her hand on the old goat's then looked at her mother. “He's right mother. I went with father twice to see the damage remember? Earl Jericho is more interested in repairing his vineyards than in laying in food for his people,” she warned. “Mark my words he'll do nothing for them but force them to repair the vineyards and then when the winter snows hit he'll be begging for food for them once more.”
“I take it the vineyards are his county's only export?” Ryans asked. She gave him a look then curled her lip and shook her mane. “Or not,” he said dryly.
Deidra wrinkled her nose. “He keeps it all to himself. The fat...” The Duke cleared his throat. She shot him a dirty look and then frowned, cutting the tirade short.
“Indeed, some have their priorities out of order. But what is done is done. We can't very well send men to force them to comply after all, that would only weaken us further,” the Queen sighed.
The General opened his mouth and then closed it as the thought registered. After a moment he reluctantly nodded. He picked up a flaggon of ale and took a gulp. His hand shook when a bolt of lightning and peal of thunder startled them all.
“Cursed storms,” he growled, then wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. He turned rheumy eyes on Ryans. “Can you change the weather with your technology?” he asked disdainfully.
Ryans snorted. “We already had this conversation earlier actually General. The short answer is it depends on the weather,” Ryans said sitting back. “Sure we can redirect lightning to keep it from striking where we don't want it too.” He shrugged as the others winced as lightning flashed again. Thunder rolled a second later.
“Is that why you’re all jumpy?” Ryans asked, looking from one to another. The Queen nodded.
“I don't blame you, lightning is dangerous,” Ryans said. They could hear the pitter patter of rain swell. He waited until the downpour began to ease before continuing.
“See, we can seed clouds to make it rain, but it isn't very effective,” he explained.
“So you’re not gods,” the Duke said smiling. For some reason he felt a great deal of relief over that.
“Never said we were,” Ryans answered glancing his way. “We're human, just like anyone else here. We just know a lot more and know we've still got a lot to learn,” he said and then shrugged.
“And your remedy for this pox of a storm?” the General asked.
“Stay out of the rain,” Ryans shrugged. “Forecasting is the best answer. Knowing when and where bad weather will strike and for how long is key in intelligent planning,” he said with a pointed dig at the General. He smiled, bowing slightly to the General. “Both in strategic planning for a battlefield, and,” he turned bowing to the Queen, “in managing an Imperium.”
“Ah,” the General said, looking thoughtful as he nodded and rubbed his chin. “Yes. There's truth in that. Knowing when rains will make a river swell and flood, when it'll turn the fields to muck and mire...” He nodded, taking another gulp of ale. “Yes, yes, there's truth in that. But these giant storms...” he waved.
“We call them hurricanes or typhoons. The ones that form over water anyway,” Ryans shrugged. “The ones that form from thunder clouds over land we call tornadoes,” he said. “The best thing we can do is predict where and when they are coming, warn the people in the way and then hunker down and ride it out,” he grimaced. “Or get out of the way if it's possible. Ships use this ability a lot on Earth.”
“Indeed. We must invest in this when the war is over,” the Duke said, glancing at the Queen. She nodded. “Too many of our ships have been lost at sea over the eons.”
“Yeah well, that happens. Especially with wooden ships,” Ryans said. He vowed to never, never ever get on a native vessel if it was made out of wood.
“Indeed,” the General nodded. “But on to this matter...” He waved.
“I think it's a pain but we may not need them,” Ryans said frowning
.
“What?” The General said turning to him. “What did you say?” he growled.
Ryans shrugged. “Sure it's nice to have as many men and as much material as you can get your hands on. Any General worth his salt always wishes for more,” he smiled. The General nodded grudgingly and motioned him to continue. “But sometimes you have to go with what you have,” Ryans shrugged. “Fortunately we've got force multipliers with my people and the gear we've brought... And the gear we've made here with your people,” he said. He nodded politely to the Duke and the Queen. “I think they should tip the balance.”
The General frowned ferociously. “We shall see shall we?” the Queen said, putting her own hand on his.
The General turned to her and then bowed. “As your majesty wishes,” he sighed.
Chapter 19
When Art’ur got word of the wonder weapons killing not one but two dragons. He was suddenly subdued. Uuôden was unsure what to do. As they contemplated the spy report explosions ripped into the darkened camp. They swung into action.
Dogzards were immediately loosed. The animals had been starved to make them more savage. Unfortunately for the Duluth the Gunny had planned on them this time. The animals stopped at carcasses he and his men had lovingly provided on their escape routes and exploded when they picked and tore at the booby trapped bodies.
Art’ur was enraged but became pensive when he found out that half his grain stocks had been destroyed in the fire. Three siege engines were now gone and many of his food animals were stampeding with his cavalry mounts. Some of his Titans were amongst them, tearing them apart one after another or tearing into each other. One of his favorite beasts was down, gored in the side by another. It moaned, pawing and clawing at the earth before its head lolled to the side, tongue out and eyes glazing over in death. Another beast tore through the camp, stomping tents and fires, spraying the area with flaming embers. It was chaos.
“Such is war,” Uuôden said, waving to men to get in and sort out the mess before it got any worse.
For the first time Art’ur now had doubts about this campaign. Nothing had gone right since the siege had begun. Oh sure, their initial victories had been pleasing but now...
He turned, pacing. The problem was he couldn't withdraw. Oh the pass could be run; he could hammer the ruins with his entire army and escape. That wasn't the problem. No it was his lords. Should he show weakness now, should he hesitate... it would cost him dearly. Possibly his life, he realized, slowing and stopping.
The only way was to press on, to keep fighting; it was what his father had taught him. He'd learned some hard lessons in this but he knew he could come out on top, stronger than ever given time.
“Get the fools under control. If they've run off, and I believe they have then settle our men and get the camp straightened out. Tomorrow we attack at dawn,” Art’ur commanded, whirling about and heading to his tent.
“With what sized force my liege?” Uuôden asked.
Art’ur froze and then whirled. His eyes glittered. “Why everything of course, spread the word. We'll avoid the gates. Focus on the midpoints on three sides. We'll drive the prisoners we have ahead to force them to either slaughter them or delay in firing.”
“My liege what about the capital?” Uuôden asked, coming closer to him.
“Them? The cowards and lice?” Art’ur roared. Men around them stopped to stare at him. He turned glaring. “Get back to work the lot of you!” he snarled. “If the Imperium had forces they'd come with their army. They do not have them!” he brayed, turning in place. “That's why they sting us with these ticks. We'll overcome them and be triumphant! Tomorrow at dawn! Spread the word!”
<==={}------------>
“We're reaching an end to the viability of the Silent Knight activities boss,” Waters said giving them both a look. He had a tablet under one arm.
“Ah?” Ryans asked sitting back. He held a beer stein. He was getting used to the native beer. It was improving now that Max, Charlie, and Scooter had slipped the local brewers some much needed help.
“We've hit every vulnerable, soft target. Now Duluth is finally wising up and redeploying his men as guards on his vitals.”
“Shit,” Perry grimaced. “What's the take?” He wasn't at all happy about letting Gunny Paris loose with the last class. Perry kicked himself nightly worrying about what they were up to.
Waters looked down to his tablet. “Three more siege engines, most of his grain was burned, his feed animals were stampeded everywhere, and we used some C-4 to spook his cavalry. He's lost about twenty to twenty-five percent by the Gunny's estimate. From what the Gunny said that did a lot of damage, he got tricky and set up his charges to blow so the animals would stampede through the camp. We also got the UAVs up; they gave us a really accurate map of their camps and the battlefield.”
Perry smiled grimly. The UAVs were rebuilt from the UAVs Ryans had sent through to scout the portal area. Well, one was, the other two were short ranged military grade UAVs. “I take it they did it at night?”
“Oh of course,” Waters replied smiling grimly himself. They could both imagine the chaos the Gunny had inflicted in the camp. “I wish we could've had a few more teams up, we probably could have gotten in and taken the leadership out.”
Ryans shook his head. “No, that would probably have been a bad idea,” Ryans replied studying his beer. They both looked at him. He looked up and shrugged.
“Honest, they don't exactly have a clear cut chain of command, so there's no one to take up the reins right off. So if you cut off the head they would break into factions or dissolve...”
“Which is a bad thing?” Waters asked, wrinkling his nose.
“Yes and no. Some would probably head for home, but some would turn bandit and start hammering the smaller keeps and villages.”
“Still, not as bad as going toe to toe with them,” Waters replied. He still didn't like the numbers even though theirs were almost even now. Less than ten percent had modern weapons though.
“Ah, but I don't want to just do that,” Ryans smiled coldly. “I want to break them. And send a message to anyone who wants to go a Viking to pick better pastures.”
“New sheriff in town?” Waters snorted.
“Something like that,” Ryans answered, eyes glittering. He had another message in mind of course, one for the Imperium lords. Don't rebel or you could be next.
“Sometimes I worry about you boss. There's such a thing as biting off more than you can chew,” Perry said shaking his head. “I still like defeat in detail.”
“You may sir, I don't. I still remember Iraq,” Waters shrugged off Perry's look. “Second war I mean. They wouldn't even fight us, just went to ground and did a guerrilla war. Not something I'd like to have to face here if you don't mind. Playing whack the terrorist, chasing them all over creation... Worrying about villages getting ransacked or towel heads popping out of the hills every time you turn your back is a young man's game.”
“Yeah. There's that,” Perry nodded. “They kept weapons fire down to a minimum?”
Waters nodded. “The Gunny reported only expending forty-three rounds. Mostly by snipers taking out forces chasing them when they pulled out,” Waters replied hefting his own stein.
“They did it far enough away so the enemy didn't see what happened?” Ryans asked pointedly.
“Yup. Over hill and dale and in the dark too, it should have scared the bejesus out of them. Edsfield even used a suppressor to keep the report down. It should keep sniping under wraps till the main event.”
“Maybe,” Ryans replied, nodding thoughtfully. He wasn't so sure. Art’ur had to know something was in the wind by now. Cutting up his supplies hurt him, hurt him badly.
“We'll have to see now won't we?” Perry said taking a chug.
<==={}------------>
The geologist grimaced as he fidgeted in the chair. Max looked exhausted, draped out on his stool. Scooter sighed as he handed each a beer. “That bad huh?” Ry
ans asked from the doorway. They looked up and saluted him with their beers.
“Something like that,” Max said shaking his head after he took a long sip.
“Something wrong. Something I should know about?” Ryans asked, coming into the room.
“Yes, no... I don't know,” Max sighed taking another pull of his beer. Condensation was all over the dark bottle. “Better. Much better,” he mumbled. Ryans smiled a little. The locals were pretty good with their beer; they made a rich concoction that was just about bread. Unfortunately without refrigeration it didn't last more than a day or two in this heat, even when kept in the cool cellars. The gaijin had their own means of keeping the beer fresh and cool of course.
“Good things come with time,” Ryans said as he came over and sat on a stool. Scooter offered him a beer but he waved it off. “I'm not much of a beer drinker. Once in a blue moon,” he said and shrugged. “So what's with the long suffering sigh?”
“Tungsten,” the geologist answered looking up.
“Hard metal,” Ryans replied thoughtfully and then nodded. “Shortage I take it?”
“Yup,” Scooter sighed. “Its super hard and used in a lot of stuff. From stamping dies to balls in pens to light filaments.”
“Nope, not using incandescent lights. We've been over that,” Max said shaking his head irritably. Scooter shot him an amused look and opened his mouth. Ryans however beat him to the punch. He'd known Max had a die casting problem, it seemed like they were coming to the root or in this case root alloy of the problem.
“Agreed. Besides, the steps involved in making it is a bit much. Argon, xenon, aluminum...It's not worth it if we can jump directly to light emitting diodes,” Ryans said nodding. Max gave him a one eyed look and then nodded taking another pull of his beer.
“Yeah, but we've still got the tungsten problem,” he grumbled. “Bitch to work, super high melting point, and brittle as hell when it's raw. We've got a trade imbalance.”
“Ah. And no easy way to rectify it I take it?” Ryans asked.
Max shook his head in disgust. “Nope. So the first dies we've been using are going to have to be changed out a lot. And no ball point pens. We don't have enough for the industrial applications as it is.”
