A Matter of Honor (Privateer Tales Book 9)

by Jamie McFarlane

  "There's more." Merrie swiped the engineering pad to the next video she had queued up.

  On the screen a woman held a complex-looking bow. She drew it back as the camera swept to the front. The pad showed a magnified view of the arrow sporting a swept back, sharpened steel head. As the archer released, the video followed the arrow down range, where it buried itself into a thick leather ball.

  "With our steel, we can produce the wheels for that compound bow, as well as heads for the arrows. The engineering pad estimates that this bow, configured with these arrows will penetrate six centimeters of bone and cartilage at fifty meters. I just need twenty minutes of maker-machine time to fabricate the limbs and gears. That is if Master Nurit would cast the handle," Merrie said.

  "The handle is simple enough. Have you consulted Captain Gian about this?"

  "I have informed the captain of the experimentation," Merik said. "He has previously been cool to the idea, but I believe with recent attacks, he is becoming more receptive."

  "I approached Eliora. She is willing to work with our new weapons in her spare time and to help demonstrate them. I believe it is our responsibility now, mother," Amon said.

  "You will spend a full six hours each day on your normal tasks. If this fails, we will not be accused of letting the village suffer. You may use the smithy's resources for your work, but you will work safely. Merik, our power hammer is not operating. I do not want to see Amon working this much steel with just the power of his arms. I'm not sure there is enough food in all of Yishuv if he were to do that." Nurit's tone was serious, but there was a small glint of mischief in her eyes.

  "But of course, it is our responsibility to maintain our settlement's machines. I'll send a particularly bright apprentice over first thing in the morning to see what can be done about fixing the power hammer," Merik said.

  "There's not much more to be done tonight. We'll be by first thing in the morning to pick up Merrie's treasure."

  ***

  "Why do you believe this will pierce an Ophie's chest plate?" Eliora asked, looking at the strangely constructed bow. "We've tried long bows before and they don't work. The only thing that has any effect is the small crossbow and even they don't pierce the chest deeply enough."

  Merrie smiled at the willowy protector and handed her a straight wooden arrow with a narrow steel razor blade on the end. "Two things. First, we've not had a good supply of steel before. We've been able to manufacture these very light-weight arrow heads that are shaped to penetrate. Second, these wheels reduce the work required by the archer and magnify their strength. It's purely mechanical. You'll see," she said.

  Just then a warning siren sounded. It was the signal for an attack.

  "This will have to wait," Eliora said, handing the bow back to Merrie and dashing off.

  Eliora raced through the small town and joined her fellow protector, Bashi, as they approached the main barracks beneath the left side of the gate. Eliora surged ahead into the building, grabbing her small crossbow from its protective cradle on the wall. She danced around Bashi, raced back out the door, and climbed up the stone stairs that led to the top of the wall.

  "What is it?" she demanded.

  "Five attacked a group of woodcutters. Only two of ours made it back," Pele explained. "The Ophie rushed the gate, but we took them out."

  As he finished, a bell rang on the southwest side of the village.

  "The farms," Eliora said, as Bashi arrived.

  "Good, you're here, Bashi. Man the main turret. Eliora, you're with me," Pele said.

  As the third-ranking protector, Pele was only one of two given the responsibility to carry a portable blaster rifle. Eliora's duty was to defend Pele with her life, as the weapon he carried was irreplaceable. Eliora followed him as he flew down the stairs to the waiting cart.

  Eliora vaulted into the back of the cart and grabbed the roll bar just in time to steady herself as Pele accelerated. She hooked her left arm into the support and checked her crossbow. She had a full load, as she'd expected.

  The bells in the tower that sat twenty meters inside of the gate continued to ring as they sped past. At the top of the tower, a young boy hung out of the arched window and pointed frantically over the wall. He appeared to be shouting, but the noise was too much for her to make out the boy's words.

  "Pele, we've action outside of the gate," Eliora interpreted the boy's gestures.

  The southwest gate was closed and several farmers stood just inside, looking hopeful at their approach.

  "On me," Pele said as he skidded to a halt.

  Eliora marveled at the physical grace the man displayed as she followed him. He wasted no time running around objects, but rather took a straight line, vaulting, spinning and hurdling anything in his path. If not for her own speed, Eliora would have been left behind.

  "To the rampart," Pele commanded as they arrived at the top of the wall.

  Four defenders were shooting their crossbows and dodging an onslaught of Ophie spears. The battle roar of frustrated Ophie's chilled Eliora as she flashed back to her recent, narrow escapes.

  The rampart on the southwest gate was a narrow wooden deck that overhung the very top of the wall. It gave the defenders a stable surface on which to mount their defense, although it could be cut free if it was compromised by attackers.

  Eliora grabbed two restraining harnesses and clipped them into the wall. First, she helped Pele attach his and then set to work on hers. When she finally had time to turn and survey the field, her vision clouded with tears. Many dead farmers lay in the fields. Brushing away tears, Eliora forced herself to look away, seeking out their enemy.

  Seven Ophie stood beneath the wall, bellowing and hurling rocks, having exhausted their supply of spears. It was a strange behavior. The Ophie knew better than to stand in the open within range of the wall unless they were actively attempting a breach.

  "Why are they standing in the open?" Eliora asked.

  "Look at their belts. We've never seen those markings before. And they're throwing rocks, like they're trying to entice us into joining them for a fight," Pele said. "I'll certainly oblige them."

  As he fired, the Ophie dropped one by one. Instead of running away, the others simply watched their brethren as they were cut down. It was as if they were unable to process what they were seeing.

  "It's like they've never seen us before," Eliora said.

  "And their attacks are never this close together. Something changed," Pele said as he put the last one down. "How many do you count?"

  "Eight," Eliora said.

  "Then we're looking for two more," he said. "You two stay put and close the gate behind us. We'll see if we can find the stragglers," Pele said to the two protectors who had joined them at the base of the wall. "You're driving, Eliora."

  "Yes sir," she replied.

  Eliora slowly drove out into the field. The carnage wasn't as bad as it had been in the previous attack, but it wasn't easy seeing the dead villagers. There had been no warning, as many of the farmers still held their tools, albeit defensively in some cases.

  Movement at the tree line caught Eliora's eye as three Ophie emerged, fanning out at a dead run. They were thirty meters away and quickly closed the distance. Pele's first shot went wide, but he adjusted and fired again. Two Ophie continued to charge. Pele swiveled twenty degrees and lined up on the next target, but wouldn't have time for a third. Eliora said a quick prayer, fully expecting it to be her last, and positioned herself between Pele and the charging beast. She fired repeatedly, her peripheral vision acknowledging the Ophie to her right dropping to the ground only meters from their position. As the final Ophie closed in, she rose up into it - a final sacrifice. Eliora hoped to force the large reptile to stumble over her body, giving Pele more time to shoot, but the impact sent her flying backward into the man. Her last vision was of the Ophie grabbing the barrel of the blaster rifle, pulling it from Pele's grip and splitting his head open with the butt of the rifle.

  Third
Protector Shem fired from atop the gate. The range was too great for accuracy on a moving target, but he couldn't allow the Ophie to escape with the only other blaster rifle. A puff of dirt at the Ophie's feet gave him hope that he might yet recover the priceless weapon.

  ***

  Corget To saw the earth explode at his feet and understanding seeped into his small brain. He'd killed the great warrior who possessed the Tamel weapon and now it was his. It had already been a glorious day. The nests of the Red Clan and his own Great Villagers had joined to slaughter many of their enemy. As he'd planned, the Red Clan lost many warriors in the fighting and their defeat would be sung by the home fires all along the mountain. Better yet, a new song would be sung in his honor for slaying the FenTamel warrior who bore the Tamel weapon. He ran into the forest, toward his song and glory.

  ***

  Eliora sat nervously at the table next to Captain Gian. She'd been promoted to third rank among the protectors. It was a hollow promotion, coming at the loss of her friend and mentor, Pele. She'd never been invited to attend a council meeting and Gian warned her that this wouldn't be a good one. The Yishuv settlement had taken many setbacks in the last several tendays, wiping out decades of progress. Worse, one of two remaining blaster rifles had been lost and the settlement was down to a single turret that had to be moved between the gates.

  "This meeting is called to order, so say I, Chairwoman Peraf." Grandly, the elderly woman set a golden stand on the table that prominently displayed a beautifully cut crystal. It was a ritual they repeated at every council meeting, the meaning of the gesture long since lost.

  "Master Merik, I understand you have an update on the repair of the damaged turret," Councilman Bedros said.

  Merik stood. "I do, honorable councilman, and it isn't favorable. We lack the necessary parts to repair the damage and our maker-machine is incapable of manufacturing the correct elements. In short, we can only use it as spare parts for our remaining gun."

  "You are certain these elements cannot be manufactured on Ophir?"

  "I am. The blasters rely on materials readily available in the time of our founders, but they were manufactured in mechanized plants in orbit around the planet that precisely controlled their synthesis. In short, we simply lack the capability to reproduce such an environment."

  "I see. There is a rumor afoot that your apprentice wishes to address this council. Do you know what this is about?"

  "I do, Councilman Bedros, but in following the council's wishes, she has respectfully prepared a demonstration after today's meeting. I would prefer that she be given the ability to present it fully without my preempting," Merik said. "Of course, I leave this at your discretion."

  "I understand she has manufactured a new type of weapon," Bedros said.

  "Yes, that is a partial outcome of her work," Merik answered.

  "Captain Gian. What know you of this?" Bedros asked. "I assume after your grand failures of the last few tendays you would be most interested in learning about this new weaponry."

  "Councilman Bedros, I respectfully ask that you follow our agenda. One of the things that separates us from the Ophie is our ability to reason." Peraf corrected.

  "My apologies, Councilwoman Peraf, I believe that I have finished my questions for the Master Engineer. Are there more questions or may I move on to Captain Gian?"

  As there were no questions, Peraf excused Merik and turned to Captain Gian and Eliora. "My dear Captain Gian, never before has so much been asked of so few protectors. You have lost more than even the farmers. The bravery of your men and women honors us all. There are, however, those within the council who believe that too many mistakes have been made and as a result your efficacy as leader has come under question. What say you?"

  Captain Gian stood and walked out from behind his table to address the council, a group of middle-aged to elderly men and women.

  "Councilwoman Peraf, thank you for your recognition. It truly has been a trying time. After an unprecedented period of peace, we once again enter a season of danger. Our settlement has lost five percent of its population, and no one in this room has been spared the pain of that loss. Indeed my protectors have been cut down enough that we are no longer able to adequately protect this settlement," Gian said.

  A collective gasp was heard among the full-to-standing-room-only gallery that was listening to the long meeting.

  "You're saying that being understaffed caused the Ophie to gain control of one of our last two blasters?" Bedros asked, enraged.

  "Councilman," Peraf snapped, banging a wooden hammer on the table in front of her.

  "I'd like to answer the question, Councilwoman," Gian answered.

  "Very well," Peraf said. "But I warn you, Councilman. I'll sooner close this meeting than allow your continued outbursts."

  "Pele made a judgement call that was his to make," Gian said calmly. "In combat, we constantly make decisions and when you make the wrong decision, people die. Pele acted bravely and showed great composure during an inordinately stressful situation. I'll not sully his name by second-guessing him now. The loss of the blaster was tragic and if it is the council's decision to relieve me of duty, I accept this." He gave a small bow.

  "I don't believe we're asking you to resign, Captain Gian," Peraf said wearily. "We feel that more care should be taken with our remaining weapons and should have been taken with the lost rifle."

  "There was no way for Pele to know that the Ophie would take the weapon. They've never shown the slightest interest in our technology. Even more strangely, there were sixteen Ophie that attacked us. They always attack in pods of five and never retreat. Something changed. We're seeing new behavior and I believe we should be prepared for a longer season of war," Gian said.

  "That's ridiculous. For three centuries the Ophies have attacked with a single large force and then they leave us alone for at least twenty stans. Everyone knows that," Bedros said with disdain.

  "And yet, they attacked with hundreds three tendays ago and sixteen last tenday."

  "That's not unprecedented. Our founders wrote about fighting Ophie in those numbers," Bedros said.

  "Councilman, I agree with part of that. We were fortunate they didn't attack with a larger force three tendays past, or none of us would be standing here to discuss it. I believe we're seeing the introduction of a second tribe of Ophies. The markings on their arms and thighs were different," Gian said.

  "That may well be, but it doesn't excuse your abysmal failures."

  "On this we agree, Councilman. I stand humbly before you, acknowledging those failures."

  "Oh pish-posh, we are all to blame," Peraf said. "If our weapons were in better order, if we'd adopted the early warning signals recommended by our engineer, if… if… if wishes were kisses and all that. Gentlemen, stiffen your spines. If we are to win this war, then we need to treat it as such and stop this petty bickering." She looked straight at Gian. "Tell me, Captain, what do you need that is within the capability of this council to grant?"

  "If we are to survive the war I fear is coming, we must arm our population. We are soft and must become hard. We must treat the Ophie as our enemy, not as wild animals to be avoided. Finally, we cannot hope to protect eight hundred people with twenty protectors," he said.

  "Tell me exactly what you are asking for," Peraf demanded.

  "Every man, woman and child of Yishuv should receive weapons training. Further, all men and women between the ages of sixteen and forty should spend five days of every third tenday in training or on patrol. Our core of protectors must grow to fifty."

  "You've lost your mind, Gian. We'd get nothing done if we lost that much productivity to your war," Bedros said.

  "I want to learn how to fight." A woman's voice was heard from the gallery.

  "Me too," another voice said. The gallery of spectators broke into unruly agreement.

  "Order… Order..." Peraf yelled and banged her hammer onto the table over and over again until the room quieted. "It would appear y
our idea resonates with the populace. The council will take your request under consideration. As this was the last matter for the day, we will adjourn," Peraf said. "Clear the hall so we may hear the petition of our Master Engineer's apprentice, Merrie."

  Merrie and Amon pulled a heavy handcart into the room and offloaded their long weapons, still covered with oil-cloth, onto the table.

  "Are you ready?" Merik asked Merrie. "And what's that smell? It's horrible."

  "I'm sorry," she said with a smile. "You'll see soon enough. Have you seen Eliora?"

  "She was in the hall with Captain Gian. I assume he's also been invited to your demonstration," Merik said.

  "He has. Hopefully she's filling him in on his part in the demonstration," Merrie said.

  "You've got him working too? This should be interesting. I don't want to make you nervous, but he just had a hard meeting," Merik said.

  "I hope to change that," Merrie replied.

  Merik smiled at his apprentice and almost resisted the desire to ruffle her long brown hair. "Don't ever lose that, Merrie."

  "Stop," Merrie pushed his hand off of her head. "Lose what?"

  "Optimism."

  "I'm optimistic that if you keep mussing up my hair, I'm going to break your fingers. How's that?" she asked, smiling.

  "Are you ready?" Bedros asked, taking his seat at the table.

  "We're just waiting for Eliora and Captain Gian. I'll go find them," Merrie said.

  "What is that horrid smell?" Bedros asked.

  "Part of the demonstration. My apologies, but it's really the only way." Merrie hurried out of the room only to return a moment later with Eliora in tow and Captain Gian following behind.

  "The council will come to order," Peraf said as the six of them sat in their chairs. "Merrie, dear, please, what is that smell?"

  "We'll get to that soon," Merrie said patiently. "But first, I need to give you some background. There are two facets of this presentation that we're interested in. In short, I'm asking for a tenday of maker-machine time."