“Ah yes. I can imagine,” the Admiral said dryly.
“Can this place be any more backward?” the Admiral sighed softly an hour later, watching a man struggle to pull a badly made wooden cart filled with manure through the dirty streets.
Why didn't they have animal power? He'd seen a few animals of various types being harnessed for labor but why... the cart was made to transport the manure, why not have an animal pull it? The guy was getting one hell of a work out but not a lot done. Talk about inefficient!
“You'd think so, but then there is this,” Sprite highlighted a view in the distance then enhanced it. People dressed in drab medieval clothing were standing around a fountain. One woman raised her plaid skirt and peed in the water. He couldn't believe she was doing it in public. Facing the wind. That said a lot about their hygiene, morale, and intelligence. Irons wrinkled his nose.
“Remind me...”
“Not to drink the water. I gathered that already,” Sprite said dryly. “Apparently the whole concept of hygiene and disease prevention is foreign to them. I guess it is their own version of a eugenics program. Only the smart ones survive,” she said snidely.
“Oh yeah? Then how do you explain that still happening?” he retorted.
“It's a program in need of refinement obviously,” she answered back.
“Yeah,” Irons sighed as they made their way through town. It was a shabby affair, barely fit to use. Most of the stucco buildings were in bad repair. The wood was crumbling in some areas. The paint was peeling. All were dry, ripe for a good fire. He shuddered a little at the thought. The people were sullen, hair unkempt, faces drawn and dirty. They were filthy, all eying the tourists like fresh meat. Crime must be a major problem here he thought moodily. Most of the colors were brown and black. Somber. Melancholy. Odd. Even in medieval times they had used yellows, greens, reds, and blues. Not here apparently.
“I bet they have a lot of fires. And diseases. Want to bet their fire and medical services are nonexistent? Which would cull the population even more,” Sprite said.
“Reading my mind again?” he asked noting a soldier in red livery. That splash of red was the first different color they had seen all day. If he remembered correctly red was the color of nobility. He was fairly sure this so called gentleman was not a noble. Possibly a guard though from the shiny breast plate under his red tunic. The man was adjusting his waist belt as he rushed out of a house. A pair of women ran out yelling curses at him. He smiled and waved as he kept running, spear banging into things. He pulled his helmet out from under his armpit and stuck it on. Most people in his path ducked or moved hastily out of the way.
A blacksmith stopped what he was doing to look at the passing tourists. He stroked his long curly black beard, eyes hard agates as he stared at them. His leather apron was filthy. Burns and scars marked his bare arms. He had some sort of leather pants on. He pulled a rod of iron stock from the glowing fire and then put it back, bellowing at the apprentice who had been dozing against the crude leather bellows to get pumping.
“Easy enough to do, not much there right now.”
“Funny,” he sighed. He looked over to what looked like an Inn. Soldiers of various sizes were milling about, some lounging on wooden chairs drinking ale, others talking and laughing. They were all dressed in shades of brown with red fur trim. Their boots had white fur trim and one sported a wolf head piece and fur cape. He had one hell of a gut, he must have been over a hundred kilo's overweight. Apparently his ornate torso chest plate had been custom made for that enormous girth. He took a tankard and turkey leg from a gaunt black haired child dressed in rags and then back handed her. She cried out, falling into the lap of another soldier.
He fondled her for a moment. She froze until another yanked the girl up off the man's lap and then gave her a slap on the ass to get her back to work. She picked up her tray and hastily left.
Irons jaw set. The girl had been ten or eleven standard years old. That really bothered him. If he had been on foot...
“Now is not the time to start an incident Admiral,” Sprite said quietly. Irons jaw set. “Please tell me you aren't spoiling for a fight,” she said sounding exasperated.
“I'll try to behave,” he said.
“Right. Try,” she sighed. “I guess that's the best I am going to get out of you,” she said.
“Something I have observed. The so called soldiers are all Terran. And all male,” Sprite said.
“Interesting. No aliens? What about Neos?” he asked, turning away from a woman shaking a fur out into the street. Dust and dirt was flying everywhere.
“You mean other than that skin of a Neo wolf?” Sprite asked. Irons grunted. “I'm assuming it's a Neo from what's left of the build. No normal wolf at any rate.”
“Wonderful,” he growled. One of the other passengers looked over to him. He shifted uncomfortably and then looked outside once more.
The carriage bounced off a rock. He could feel the jar. The seat didn't even have cushions. “I could have walked faster than this,” he grumbled. He noted the traffic jam up ahead. A person dressed in blue and red livery was on a stone pedestal in the center of a town square and from the look of things, was trying to direct traffic. Trying was the operative word. But someone's overturned cart had bogged things down to a crawl. Dozens of people milled about, some shouting, some patiently waiting.
He looked around once more. He took another long hard look at the buildings nearest them as he tried not to sigh in exasperation. The buildings were crude, wattle and daub affairs right out of the history books. Their roofs sagged. The windows had no glass, just drapes of cloth or animal hide. Most had stone chimneys that churned out black smoke. Some areas were as dry as kindling, others were wet and moldy. Piss poor engineering and architecture. The air was thick with smog in some places. It formed a haze that fogged out the distant buildings, which were probably more of the same he mused darkly.
“I suggest we get out and walk if you want to make the appointment,” he said as he started to get up, pitching his voice to the guide sitting on the roof.
“I, um...” The man shaded his eyes with his hand and then grimaced at the mess. He tugged on his hat strings a few times before seeming to come to a reluctant decision. “I agree. My apologies ladies and gentlemen for the unseemly mess and well...”
He jumped down and opened the carriage door. The five passengers piled out. The Admiral looked behind them to see others getting out of the carriages behind them. He snagged his duffel and slung it over his shoulder.
“What is going on?” Miss Mayfair asked. She hiked her brown skirt and came over to them. Somehow she'd gotten native dress. She must have looked the planet up somehow. Odd, he didn't have that much data to go on... well, then again, maybe she saw the heading about a medieval society and put it together with social customs and dress of the times and planned ahead. She was a smart lady after all.
“Traffic jam. We're on foot if we want to keep to the schedule,” the Admiral answered, nodding his chin to the square beyond. She turned to the guide, ignoring him.
Irons snorted softly. Ever since he'd started up a relationship with April, Willis had turned cool and had stopped flirting with him. That was fine with him, he didn't want another relationship.
“Unfortunately there is a problem and we need to make better time madam,” the guide said waving to indicate the square. Instead of cleaning up the mess there was a brawl going on as people fought over who's fault it was, and who would clean the mess up. Most of the guards around the square were leaning against their pole arms, taking bets instead of breaking up the fracas.
“Perfect,” Mayfair muttered under her breath as the crowd grew. She shuddered a little then grimaced. “Well, if we must we must.” She lifted her chin. “Have someone stay with the baggage,” she ordered, not looking back to her assistant. The assistant nodded.
“You folks coming?” the Admiral asked, already ahead of them. “I'd like to get there before nightfall. I h
ave no idea if this place has muggers, but I don't want to find out the hard way.”
Mayfair shuddered and shot a glance at Miss Willis. Both hurried to catch up to the Admiral.
Mayfair turned to the guide a few minutes later. “So tell us a little of this world.” Willis, on his other side nodded. Neither seemed happy about the close proximity of the guide, but they needed something to do to pass the time. They also appeared to want background information despite the rank smell of the man's breath. Hadn't anyone told him onions and garlic were a potent combination?
“What do you want to know madam?” he asked cautiously.
“A medieval colony?” Willis smiled invitingly.
It was too much for the man to resist. It seemed that a pretty lady asking leading questions could always draw out a man. “I do not know that word. Briev has always been like this.” The man waved to the castle they were approaching. “Such strength and beauty,” he said. There wasn't a note of awe in the voice Irons realized. More of a hint of fear.
“That's one way of putting it. One kinetic round would flatten it,” Sprite said dryly for the Admiral's ears only. “Eastern European and Russian colony bought out by a conglomerate of back to nature nuts about a century before the war. Tight immigration, limited off world contact. The castle and town were built as a tourist trap for ships passing through. It looks like they found other uses once civilization fell.”
That would have been nice to know before he'd gotten on the shuttle. He might have stayed... no he really did need a break from the ship. He'd recognized the signs of cabin fever, made worse by what had happened to April. He needed a break and new surroundings to get his mind off things.
“When the dark fell we were prepared, by the great grace of his majesty Pyotr the first. Pyotr the great. He led our ancestors to build such magnificence as you see around you. With much more. MUCH more!” the guide said with enthusiasm.
“Their majesties have ended the years of war by the lordlings and have taken us all under their just and wise rule. United, our people will lead us all back into the light.”
“I bet,” Sprite said dryly. The Admiral snorted softly as the climbed the hill path to the castle gates. “It's even got a moat and drawbridge,” Sprite observed, tone of wonder and amusement.
“Just go through good folks. We shall meet the seneschal within,” the guide urged waving them onward. They nodded, passing over the moat. The Admiral warily picked his way over the slippery and rotten wood. His sensors helped with that. Willis wrinkled her nose as a man sat on the bridge, drunk and taking a piss. Irons noted it and suppressed a laugh with great effort. The man was peeing into the wind, with predictable results.
“Oh boy. The IQ of this planet gets lower and lower the longer we are here,” Sprite sighed.
They paused near the portcullis as the others caught up. he warily looked at the murder holes in the ceiling and arrow slits in the walls. Fortunately none were manned.
“This castle was built to defend us should the evil Xenos come to conquer our lands. From it their majesties rule supreme. Do give them every deference. They will not suffer fools lightly, and have been known to send men and women to the block for exercising their tongues to much,” the guide cautioned. “Even such as yourselves.”
“Oh joy,” Sprite sighed as they continued inward. “Bet that wasn't in the brochure.”
They passed through the courtyard, noting the crude wooden buildings there. He noted the gallows, with a blood stained block nearby. Willis looked that way and shivered a little.
He looked and noted it, as well as the small truck garden. A chicken coop with lizards, some goat like creatures, and diffident soldiers, bored and standing around. A pair of them were harassing a woman. More like molesting, Irons thought looking at them. The woman was upset, but didn't fend them off, just stood there and trembled like a leaf as one of them tormented her. Her hands clutched around the laundry basket in her arms.
One man flicked his pike, hooking the edge of the wicker basket and pulling down to spill the contents. She started to cry. One of them started to gloat. He looked at them, glaring. A guard captain caught his look, looked at where he was looking and barked an order. The men looked at the captain sullenly and then moved off.
A pair of guards were marching around the inside of the quad. They were dressed in something like Russian garb. They were each wearing some sort of tall wool and fur hat piece and furs on their shoulders and boots. They marched in lock step unison, kicking their right leg out and simultaneously bending their right elbow and clenching their right fist over their heart. Then they repeated the action with the other side. It was a strange gait, something he wouldn't want to have to train for, let alone do around and around in a circle for a long period of time.
The gaunt woman curtsied to the captain who turned away with a curled lip. She bent, picking up the clothes, ignoring the whistles from the other guards. He shook his head.
“Yeah, this place gets better and better every minute.”
“A complete lack of empathy. And I'd say no spine in that woman.” Sprite said.
“Soldiers have a higher social status than women in a medieval society. They are valued more and therefore are coddled. Bad behavior is tolerated,” the Admiral ground out between clenched teeth. All of which was obvious. The younger guards were clean shaven and lean. The older guards were fat slobs, with long beards and hair. Personal grooming wasn't a part of their daily chores apparently.
Willis looked his way and frowned, shaking her head. Her eyes were flashing dangerously. He sighed. “No, I don't approve. Not in the slightest. If they had been my men...”
“You'd have keel hauled them,” Willis said with a nod. For once there was a note of approval in his being here.
“Something like that,” he answered as they got to the door to the main hall. She nodded and turned back as they filed inside to their seats.
A little while later the crowd was getting a bit restless. He looked around, bored with studying their surroundings. When more guards slotted into preplanned positions he knew something was up.
They were in the keep, in the main chamber. There were fireplaces along the outer walls, all soot stained. Stag antlers and other animal heads were on the walls. The wood rafters above were blackened with soot and age.
There was a small carpet in the center of the room, it was red, but stained from repeated use. It's borders were trimmed in gold and the center had some sort of crest on it. He couldn't make it out since there were so many people standing on it. Most likely it matched the banners hanging around the room though. The furniture was wood of course, set along the outside of the perimeter. There were a lot of people in the center of the room, facing a raised dais and pair of thrones. Most likely they were subjects. From their dress and manor they were minor lords and ladies. Mayfair and the other Pyraxian delegates were in the front row, shifting about nervously, trying not to gawk like tourists. One had a camera out, taking photos. He sighed. So much for image control.
The banners flared in a sudden breeze. He heard a creaking sound. Yes something was happening.
“Did you notice the crest?” Sprite asked, bringing up an image of a wolf and dragon onto his HUD. He waved it away. He didn't have time to focus on trivialities now.
“All kneel before their majesties!” the bailiff at the door thundered, smartly rapping the bottom of the staff onto the flagstones. The rank and file knelt. The Admiral's eyes darkened. He was in the viewing gallery above, which had standing room only. He looked around. The visiting off world people there had their heads bowed. A guard gave him a dark look. Irons raised an eyebrow at him. The scowl darkened further. He shrugged it off and turned to watch the royal couple come in.
“Oh lovely. She's in red. The red queen. Now I see that whole block thing in the proper light,” Sprite said as he noted the portly woman in scarlet and silver. Her husband was in gold, with a rich purple cape trimmed in white and black fur. Both had curled, powder
white wigs on, with ornate crowns.
“Siberian tiger. I bet you,” Sprite said. “It is on the animal import list when the planet was terraformed. But I could be wrong. It could be some luckless Neo.”
Irons grimaced as the king draped the cape over one arm then settled onto the throne in synch with his wife gracefully. “Your majesties,” the portly servant said, bowing before them. He nodded, every gram a leader.
“All rise. Court is in session. I find we have guests to our realm,” the king said nodding to the servant.
The servant nodded. “Yyyess your majesty. They come from the system of Pyrax.”
“And how far away is that?” the queen asked. Her jowls shook as with each word.
“Two systems over as the crow flies. You'd think they'd know that. It's not like they can have many people come through, there are only two jump nodes in this dinky system after all,” Sprite said dryly. “Oh interesting, they have a computer network up! I'll just investigate that.” He felt her consciousness withdraw a little.
“You do that,” Irons said under his breath, not catching the servant's answer. The servant waved impatiently for Mayfair and Willis to come forward. The two women did and curtsied. He bet Willis was now regretting her choice in simple fabrics. Apparently the lords and ladies of the court kept the good vibrant colors to themselves and made their peons wear the drab browns and blacks.
“Your majesties, we are a delegation from Pyrax, sent here to open trade negotiations and to reestablish the old Federation,” Mayfair said smiling a little. Irons was glad she wasn't stumbling over her lines. At least this introduction was going smoother than the Agnostan encounter.
“Indeed,” the king said, right hand supporting his head. The neatly trimmed somewhat gray beard didn't quite hide his double chin. “I had no knowledge of this before. Why is that?”
Destiny's Choice (The Wandering Engineer) Page 42
