Jim Baen's Universe-Vol 2 Num 3

by Jim Baen's Universe! staff

Maggie placed her gloved hand over his. "Oh, yes."

  The evening was magical. The latest play, followed by dinner and dancing. Sam seemed to lose his rustic accent a little more with every hour that passed. The restaurant was rich in eastern hardwood shipped up the Gilden River, with real lace doilies on the table and fine plates made of porcelain. The glasses were made of real glass.

  By the time they got to the dancing, Maggie felt like she was the queen. The dance hall had a twenty-three-piece band with horns, guitars, drums, and a piano. Finely dressed ladies and gentlemen, some of them hired by the dance hall so that everyone would have someone to dance with, circulated through the room. The drinks had real ice shipped down the river from the north.

  Then, as she and Sam made a turn of the dance floor, she saw someone she'd hoped was left far behind them. "Uh oh."

  Sam looked down at her, brows creased. "What's wrong?"

  "Don't look, or at least don't be obvious about it. But I'm pretty sure that's Baron Wright."

  "Apparently so." The last of Sam's western accent disappeared. "There is little, I fear, we can do about it at the moment."

  Maggie was shocked, just a bit. He spoke like a noble from the southeast, all clipped and refined with their overly proper diction. Then Sam seemed to realize what he had said. He grinned in embarrassment and looked down at his boots. "Sorry, ma'am," he muttered, the western style of speech fully back now. "I used to talk like that a long time ago. Highfalutin' and all."

  * * *

  While Maggie and the others were getting supplies for the town, Sam had some business of his own to attend to. The steamer captain was agreeable to a meeting. "What can I do for you, Mr. Martin?"

  The steamer was just as he had described them to Alen, with great big paddlewheels on either side. Alen insisted that was a wasteful method of using the steam engine. Sam was going to change that or at least try to.

  "Actually," Sam answered, "it's what I can do for you. I have drawings for a device called a propeller. . ."

  The captain had been polite, but not enthusiastic. So had the smithy and the dyer, when he approached them with methods for improvements. It was proving a lot harder to give away advances in technology than he had expected, especially when you couldn't explain where you had learned about it.

  * * *

  "Mr. Martin. Mr. Martin!" It took Sam a moment to realize that he was the one being called. He wasn't used to his new last name yet.

  "Yes? What can I do for you Mr. . . . ?"

  "Carstairs. Professor Andrew James Carstairs. It's about your propelling device."

  "Not mine, Professor. A fellow told me about them back east."

  "That can't be. I'm just up from the coast. They don't have anything like you described to Captain Twain."

  Sam pushed his hat back and scratched his forehead. "Gee, Professor. Do you think the fellow was lying to me?"

  The look he got made it clear that Sam's famous ability to bluff was working as well as ever.

  "Young man!" Sam doubted if Professor Carstairs had five years on him. "Do not toy with me. That propulsion device is years beyond the state of the art. You must tell me where you acquired those drawings. I insist."

  Sam looked at the pudgy little man. "Mister, the only things I must do are live and die someday." Then he turned and left, silently cursing. The one thing he didn't want to do was attract attention to himself.

  * * *

  Sam noticed the question in Maggie's eyes over the next few days. He wished he could talk to Alen about it and was surprised to realize how much he had come to depend on the impersonal analysis of the AI. Finally, on a walk though the botanical gardens, he told her.

  "I was born Lord Samuel Richard Merchantson, son and heir to the baron of Feld in the kingdom of Candis. When I was seventeen there was a dispute over the ownership of the barony. A cousin of my father's from Laris claimed that the barony was his. We could have gone to the king's court, but went to war instead. We lost, and fairly badly. I was made a slave and later escaped. I stole a pig and headed west. Since I was already a wanted man, I didn't worry too much about which side of the law I was on."

  Sam shook his head. "I did some bad things. Anyway, almost a year ago, now, I was living in a little town on the edge of the badlands. Somebody recognized me. The sheriff locked me up but the town didn't have a jail. They stuck me in a tool shed. That night I busted out of the shed, stole Porky from the livery stable I'd been working in and ran into the badlands.

  "They chased me and then they stopped. I didn't realize they'd stopped till I was in a little valley. I had managed to slip into Demon's Rock." He explained the rest of it. Who Alen was and how Porky was so smart. Then he told her why he had told her.

  "While I was in the valley, I realized that the tech from before the attack needed to be brought back to the world." Sam shook his head. "The things Alen can do, the things our ancestors could do . . . you wouldn't believe it. But I couldn't just invite people into the valley. There'd be a war. Besides, would you really want Baron Wright to be the one who ended up owning the Demon's Rock homestead? That's how I knew about the men in the Gap; Alen told me. I'm pretty sure it was Baron Wright and I don't think he's given up.

  "I'm blind on this side of Demon's Face Ridge, Maggie." Sam stopped a moment and studied her face. She was sitting quietly, absorbing it all, but didn't look as surprised as he'd have thought she would.

  Her fingers tapped the railing they stood by. "So, what you need to do is leave us here, right? Head out early and scout."

  Sam nodded. He had two repeaters left in his gear but to do any good he was going to have to find high places to put them. Then he was going to have to go back to the valley to pick up some more gear. He wanted to leave Porky here with her and when he got the link set up Porky would be able to nod and shake his head to direct the wagon train back to Torton.

  "I'll try to put up sensors and repeaters on this side of the ridge and keep the baron's bullyboys busy. But you'll have to keep the wagon train together and keep them following Porky."

  "Let's go get Hiram, Sam. He'll need to know." Maggie grinned. "I think he knows some of it already. Or suspects some of it, at any rate."

  * * *

  "Brownie, you're the dumbest pig on the face of the earth," Sam muttered. Actually, Brownie was a pretty good pig but it didn't have the AI whispering in its ear. Nor was it as bright as Porky or as flexible. The brown racing pig Sam had bought was well configured with a fine pedigree. It was also as fast as he had been promised, but compared Porky, Brownie was as dumb as a rock.

  On Porky, Sam would have had more than transportation; he would have had a helper. Sam looked at the chimney rock sticking out of the desert. With Porky, he could have tossed a rope over that finger sticking out on the right and had himself an elevator ride to get started. Instead, he pulled out the pitons he'd had made in Gilden. It took several hours to climb the rock and place the sensor. He hoped it would be worth it. If what Alen had told him held true, from here the repeater could pick up Porky in Gilden.

  Sam took of his hat and wiped sweat off his face. "I hope this does it." He listened. Good. Sounds that were typical in a stable. He had contact with Porky. Now for contact with Alen.

  * * *

  Two days later he managed to get Brownie about halfway up Charley's Mesa, then the darn pig wouldn't go any higher and Sam had to climb the rest of the way. But that put him in contact with Alen and in better contact with Porky.

  "All right, Alen. Next time Hiram grooms Porky, have him give the signal to start moving the train back home. And build more repeaters. I'm headed home as quick as I can get there."

  Sam had the net set up as well as he could with what he had available. It was time to head for the valley and pick up more equipment.

  * * *

  "Porky says it's time to go." Hiram leaned over and whispered it to Maggie at dinner that night.

  Persuading the rest of the group that they should leave without waiting for
Sam got to be interesting. As well, it gave Maggie a pretty good idea of what people thought about Sam. She wasn't all that happy with what she found.

  Walt was wondering if Sam had run out on them. Ed thought they should wait for him to get back and Dan figured they had already spent too much time waiting on the desert bum.

  "Well, we can't stay here forever." Maggie stood and looked around at the men. "I want to get home and get back to normal. Sam can catch up with us. He knows we need to get back, and you know how much he thinks of that pig. He'll be along as soon as he can."

  Walt nodded. "I'll be glad to get home, myself. We can leave Sam a message."

  "I'll be sure and do that, Walt." Maggie grinned. By this time, Sam was probably riding hell for leather for his valley and more equipment. Meanwhile, the wagon train had grown rather larger than they'd planned, because of the increased price of gold in Gilden. It would take a few days to finalize the arrangements and packing, not to mention find and hire a few more drivers for the wagons they'd had to buy.

  * * *

  "It's about time they got moving." Sam put the new saddle on Brownie's sleek back. "If I had a little more time, I'd have you give this idiot pig a transmitter."

  "There was a lot to do," Alen pointed out. Brownie shied and reared at the AI's voice. That was the reason Sam hadn't had a transmitter implanted in him. One day in the valley just wasn't enough time for a pig to get used to Alen's disembodied voice. Especially not one as high-strung as Brownie.

  Sam calmed the dratted pig. "Well, at least the new saddle gives me more range. Now I need to get back out there. What's the latest you have on Baron Wright's bullyboys?"

  "So far he appears to be sticking close to Demon Face Ridge."

  "I'm a bit surprised by that. It's just not in his nature to let go of a fight."

  "It does make a certain amount of sense, Sam. If he is unaware of the sensors, he has no way of knowing his movements are being observed. At the same time, if he wanders out into the desert without knowing the precise location of the wagon train, he could easily miss them, in spite of their slow progress."

  In spite of everything Maggie could do, the wagon train was moving slowly, giving the baron plenty of time to set his traps. The train was winding its way through the desert on a course that would let it head for either for Dover's Gap or Crag's Pass. They weren't sure yet where the baron's men would concentrate.

  * * *

  "Another six are arriving at Crag's Pass." Alen's voice was more clipped than usual. "The train is safe so far."

  Sam had spent two weeks riding like a madman, setting up one repeater station after another. He'd been dividing his time between that and sniping at the bullyboys in Crag's Pass, doing everything he could think of to convince the baron that he was trying to clear them out of there so the wagon train would have a clear path. "I'm going to run out of luck one of these days, Alen."

  "Apparently, Baron Wright is convinced. He's with this group." The plan appeared to be working. Every time Sam hit the pass, they sent more men. Two days before he had made the decision and directed the supply wagons to Dover's Gap.

  "No imagination. Should we hit Crag's Pass again?" At Alen's confirmation, Sam dismounted and led Brownie off the trail. He tied the reins so that the idiot pig would stay in the shade. Climbed up to a good position and started sniping at the men in the pass. They returned fire and Sam watched where their rounds were landing. He kept up his sniping until he was drawing quite a bit of fire, then slipped away and went back for Brownie. "Any idea what's going on over there?"

  "It appears that they are convinced that you or someone is desperately trying to force them out of the gap."

  Sam shrugged. "What does Dover's Gap look like, Alen? Is all this mess working?"

  "Approximately the same as it looked the last time you asked. Yes, the plan appears to be working. There is a small force at Dover's Gap. Only a few men, so it appears that force is designed to either simply deny the supply train access to the pass or delay them while the main body of men returns."

  * * *

  Sam was well on his way to Dover's Gap when the AI reported that there was new activity at Crag's Pass. They appeared to be sending out scouts.

  "What the hell is going on down there?

  "Uncertain. They may simply be trying to push you farther away from Crag Pass or they could suspect something of our plan."

  "How far is the train from Dover's Gap?"

  "I estimate six hours."

  "How many people with the baron?" If the baron had snapped to the fact he was being watched they were in trouble.

  "Forty-three not counting the scouts."

  Sam rode for Dover's Gap, wondering if Wright had figured out the plan.

  * * *

  Sam crept up the rocks near Dover's Gap. He found a rock that gave him good view of the position the baron's men had taken. Then he waited for the supply wagons to come into sight.

  He heard them before he saw them and so did the baron's bullyboys. Four of them moved into positions that hid them from the train, but exposed them to Sam. The fifth man got ready to ride for Crag Pass and get reinforcements.

  "Alen, give Porky the signal to stop." Hiram had apparently been waiting for it because he pulled up immediately. The wagons stopped. Sam could hear the argument through his phone. It was almost loud enough to hear over the desert sands.

  One of the men signaled the rider and Sam couldn't wait any longer. "Damn." He shot the rider's pig. He hated to do it but the one thing he couldn't afford was to have word reach Crag Pass that they had been tricked again.

  The pig screamed. The rider hid among the rocks and tried to determine where the shot had come from. Sam heard Maggie telling Ed, "I told you he'd be here."

  Sam laughed. Then he shouted. "We have you cut off and surrounded. Throw away your guns and put up your hands." It took some persuading and a few more warning shots but the baron's men were in a losing position and they knew it. All five threw down their guns and walked toward the train. Ed and Walt looked to be having a fine time tying them up.

  Sam climbed down and waited. Once they got here, they'd get the water barrels filled and the supply train on its way.

  Maggie jumped off the wagon and landed so close to Sam that she nearly knocked him down. "Sam. Sam. I told them you'd be here." Then she threw her arms around him and Sam forgot about filling water barrels for a few moments. He had other things on his mind. And, for a change, his hands were full of something besides a gun.

  Finally he pulled away. "Listen up, folks. About seven hours ago the baron was at Crag Pass with forty gun hands. I figure he's still there but I don't know that for sure. It took me four hours to get here from there, so at most he is five hours away from us. We need to get the barrels filled, the pigs watered, and out into the desert where we'll be hard to track. In case anyone is wondering, it is the baron. I saw him this time.

  * * *

  Maggie set the tray that held four cold beers in the new glass mugs down on the table. They had lost the baron in the badlands and gotten back to town. Now came the hard part, telling Walt and the rest of the council about Alen. They would need their help to keep it quiet as long as they could. After discussing it with Maggie and Alen on the trip home, they had decided that they would use Torton as what Alen called a "test bed" for reintroducing firster tech. Sam was nervous about the decision.

  "Ed, Walt, I have something I need to tell you." They took it well. There was some of the old superstition left, but not that much, at least not when there was a good explanation. Maggie had even pulled out the phone he'd given her and let Alen tell them some things about the Demons and what they really were.

  "Not that much of the old beliefs left, Sam." Ed sounded a bit sad about it. "Some, sure. But mostly folk can't afford to give up anything that can make their lives easier."

  "But Sam's right about the rest of it, Ed." Walt picked up the phone like it was some rare jewel. "This is the kind of wealth that folks w
ill kill for and kill to keep others from having, too." They looked at him and he looked back grim. "Don't think the king would be any more likely to let Sam keep Demon Rock than the baron would be. Or the emperor back east, either. You'll have to go with your original plan, at least partly. Introduce stuff that people could have made, like those six-shooters on your hip. Keep the rest of it secret."

  Sam was nodding. "Alen says he can come up with some equipment to make mining easier."

  "Could we make a cache of stuff out in the badlands for Sam to have discovered?" Ed asked. "Not at Demon Rock, but somewhere else. A cave somewhere that had books and some other doodads in it. Let it leak out that that was where the stuff came from."

  Maggie shook her head. "It might work for a little while but not for long. It would focus attention on the badlands, then people would start thinking of Demon Rock, anyway."

  "Analysis indicates that that will happen, regardless," Alen interrupted. "Hiram put it together with little difficulty. Others will. I have been giving warning before firing on trespassers, as I was instructed to do. That is the basis of the legends about Demon's Rock. When tech starts appearing in the area of the badlands, others will reach the same conclusion. Certainly, they will become curious enough to trespass on Sam's property."