The Price of Peace (4 page)

Pa rubbed his chin. "You watch your step chasing them, and they get away. You chase them fast and reckless, and they set up an ambush. The damn army may not have taught them much, but it would have taught them that."

"So what do we do?" came an anguished cry from the back. "Just sit on our thumbs while they kill our kids and steal our wives?" Ruth saw her chance in the silence and took it.

"Pa, we don't have to chase right behind them. We could get ahead of them if we used the boats from Trader Sanchez to get up valley before they can."

There was a long silence as people called up maps in their heads and roughed out what

Ruth had done. "Yeah" came from several. Pa gave her a tight smile. Old man
Seddik
settled it with a nod. "Okay. You folks chase them, but not too close. Joe
Edris
takes half and heads for the trading post." "I'll get horses."

"I'll start the chase on foot. You give me a call when you got the horses."

Quickly, the teams organized themselves. In five minutes Pa was seated beside Ruth as she led five rigs for the trading post.

Ruth gunned the tractor, going for every bit of speed she could. Each curve was a challenge, each straight section a race. Pa said nothing. In the silence she felt his pride in her. That was something she hadn't felt about herself in a long time.

Caution was what she felt as the Sanchez place came in view as they crested a hill above the lake. One glance showed none of the usual activity around the post. Even the dog was just lying there. Five minutes later, Pa ordered a halt. Through the trees and across a bay, Ruth had a better view. "The boats are gone," Brother reported. The door to the store was hanging open. The dog was lying in its own blood.

Pa waited for the other rigs to catch up. Then he ordered the rifle teams to slip through the woods and surrounded the place. Pa kept his eye on the store for a good fifteen minutes before he had Ruth slowly edge the tractor forward. He and Brother entered the store while Slim checked out the dock.

"Boats have been stove in," he quickly shouted.

Pa was slower in reporting. When he came out of the store, he whistled in the folks from the woods. Brother sat heavily on the steps. "Poor
Paco
didn't even know it was coming. He's there behind his counter, a shot between his eyes. Place has been ransacked." Brother choked on his words.

"Where're
Agnatha
and the kids?" Ruth asked, scared of the answer.

"Don't know." Pa sighed through a scowl. He reached through the tractor door for the phone. "
Edris
here. Stop the pursuit, Jeb. Sanchez's place has been sacked. Old man's dead. The rest are gone. Boats are sunk.
Edris
to everybody, we are
gonna
have to rethink ourselves."

The acknowledgments were slow and bitter. Pa's face was the deepest scowl Ruth had ever seen . . . and something else, hard and cold ... as he handed back the phone. "Looks like I got to go to Hurtford City."

"I'm going too," Ruth added.

Zylon Plovdic didn't bother getting out of her truck. She went down the form, quickly checking off one box after another. Yes, the survey team had sufficient
supples
for ninety days, their safety equipment was in order, and they had an emergency locator signal. True to the founders of Hurtford Corner, she verified only that they had what they needed for their own safety. She had no duty to check for hidden weapons, explosives, or other potential dangers to the community. She grinned; the rifles, ammunition boxes, and rockets were in clear view. The leader of the "survey party" stood beside her truck. He accepted his official permit with a silent nod. He, along with five others, actually would be surveying for the mineral wealth identified in the permit.

The other dozen or so riders collecting behind the pack mules were another matter. Zylon knew every one of them. Over the last several years, she'd tossed most of them in jail for several kinds of unacceptable behavior. She'd been happy to pass them over to the first Unity Planet Leader when he arrived. Now she was just as glad to turn them loose in the mountains west of town. There, they wouldn't cause her any trouble. Though, unlike the survey team, they would not long be riding west.

Soon enough, they'd be ranging with the other three batches of raiders among the farm stations to the north. But that was none of
Zylon's
concern.

The survey team leader accepted his authorization from Zylon and passed her the check in the agreed-upon sum on an off-world bank. With mutual smiles, they went their own ways. He to the western hills, she back to her office at the Center for Public Safety. Yes, she had the most volunteer hours of anyone in the city, all of them officially to secure the public safety. What they were securing for her was another matter entirely.

Two

THATS HARDLY A town," Izzy said, shaking her head at Hurtford City's pretensions. It was the planet's one claim to urban living. She doubted more than thirty thousand people occupied the shallow valley where two rivers merged. The ridge to its east did have a five-kilometer-long landing strip; a dammed river to its west offered a wide reservoir for shuttles who preferred a water landing. "
Comm
, have we been hailed by the port captain?" "No, ma'am. I gave up waiting and called the number in the book. Got a recorded message. There're out-to lunch. Supposed to be back by one."

The XO frowned at the screen. "Looks to me like nine, maybe ten o'clock local down there," he said dubiously.

"Me too," Izzy snorted. "
Comm
, did they say what day they'd be back from lunch?" "Didn't even say what month, ma'am,"
Comm
answered, getting into the humor. Izzy had enough of the joke. "XO, break out the gig. Make sure any maintenance deficiencies on it have been corrected." She tapped her
comm
link. "Lieutenant, I'd like a marine honor guard to accompany me
dirtside
. The emphasis should be more on the guard than the honor."

"No trouble, ma'am."

"On the contrary, I want you with me, Trouble."

"Damn, that's
gonna
interfere with my afternoon nap." "See you at the gig in half an hour, Lieutenant. Out."

The XO was rubbing his chin and giving her one of his motherly looks. Izzy set a prim, innocent smile on her face and asked, "You got a problem, Stan?"

He leaned close and kept his voice down. "Ma'am, if there is a problem down there, a captain's place is not in the middle of it. If you want, I can lead the marines."

"Stan, we don't have a problem. This is a formal call by the skipper of a visiting warship on the governor or whatever they're calling their boss man this week. I'll arrange for some liberty, see if they've got a rural hospital that needs painting. You know, do the nice stuff. And if Mr.
Withwaterson
wants to be at my elbow, making friendly sounds, he just may see some movement by the locals. I'm not going in there shooting, Stan, despite the stories you may have heard about me."

The XO chuckled and shook his head. "And since you've made up your mind, butt out, boy." "I didn't say that." Izzy tried to look hurt. With her lack of practice, she doubted she succeeded.

"Then quit thinking it so loud."

"Go check on the gig, Stan."

"On my way," he said, launching himself for the bridge hatch. With no station to swing around, the
Patton
was in for some serious zero-gee time; the crew would need liberty. They'd get it, as soon as Izzy verified the "bandits" were just a businessman's hyperbole. Two hours later, as they finished their landing roll, they still hadn't heard from any
portmaster
. Izzy let the marines exit first. At the foot of the gig's stairs, she took her first look at Hurtford Corner. Wheat or some sort of grain crop, spring-fresh and green, covered most of the shallow depression between her and the city to the west. More green stretched away to where rolling hills started the climb toward the mountains they'd
overflown
on approach. A deep breath took in smells of cooling gig, morning rain, and sun warmed earth. Several trucks and two cars raised dust on the single-lane road to town. "Nothing like a sonic boom to let folks know they got company," Trouble observed dryly. The marine lieutenant, in dress whites, sword, and pistol, shook his head at their immediate surroundings. "No hangar, no control tower. Must not expect much business." Izzy nodded. The latest report on Hurtford Corner dated back to the war. Did they still have a governor, or, now that the Unity overlords were gone, had they returned to a group of elders with a city manager hired for the town? Intelligence was mildly curious; Izzy would inform them of what she found.

The first truck disgorged a chubby, balding young man with a broad smile and a hand out. "I'm Paul
Withwaterson
. I am so glad to see you."

I bet you are. Izzy shook the offered hand. "We are here. You seem to be safe. Where're the port authorities? Their voice mail said they were out to lunch."

"Oh, that. They've been out to lunch since they lost the war. My ship got the same message. It hasn't been changed?"

"No. Who's the rest of the welcoming committee?"

Mr.
Withwaterson
turned. "The other trucks are from my competitors. That black car is the city manager. He's the closest you'll get to a formal welcome. He's the one you have to talk to about the lack of police services. My warehouse has been broken into five times since I landed."

"You got any cargo in that dinky thing?" came a shout from the next arriving truck. A big man with a mammoth red nose took in the gig and crew with a jaundiced eye.

"Commander Inez
Umboto
, captain of the Humanity ship
Patton
, at your service," she answered.

"No shit. Well, no trade goods, no interest from me." The man growled and did a U-turn. As he passed the next arriving truck, he shouted, "They got nothing, Dean. We wasted our time."

Not the trusting type, the driver still drove over to them.

A thin, white-haired man studied them through thick glasses. "Navy types, huh?"

"At your service," Izzy smiled, and got a gunned motor for her trouble. The truck narrowly missed the arriving car.

A young man, short and thin, greeted Izzy with a wide smile and a handshake. "Mikhail

Shezgo
, city manager. We've never had a Navy ship drop by, but what can I do for you?"

Izzy gave the official line by heart. "We're here on a routine visit. To show Hurtford Corner it's a part of a bigger universe. Maybe recruit a few new hands, buy fresh fruits and vegetables, paint a hospital or community center. Think of us as ambassadors from the Society of Humanity." Done with the basics, she went on. "With no station to-give us gravity, I'll want to give my people liberty for a good part of each day."

"That may be a problem." Mr.
Shezgo
answered quickly. Izzy had been expecting a brush-off, but not this soon. She raised a questioning eyebrow. "I suspect," he went on, "your young folks want what any youngsters want at the end of a long day. A couple of cool ones. Well, our local
brewmasters
make just enough for one day, two at the most. You drop three, four hundred thirsty sailors on us and some folks, yours or mine, are
gonna
go wanting tonight. Think you could hold your folks aboard for a day? Tomorrow, I can promise you a real cotillion."

Which had to be about the nicest way Izzy had ever been told to bugger off and let us have some time to get ready for you. Before she could answer, a siren went off in town, drawing her eyes to a rising cloud of gray smoke.

"Looks like a building's afire." Trouble broke the quiet as they all turned to watch. A moment later, another siren joined the first, though from the sound of it, this one was moving.

"That was a fast response." Mr.
Shezgo
grinned. "Volunteer fire department is right on this one. Probably just a kitchen fire," he concluded.

"Or someone who didn't pay up," Mr.
Withwaterson
shot back. "You don't pay bribes and strange things start happening."

Mr.
Shezgo
turned on him. "Trader, you are not a part of our community. You haven't volunteered to spend any time with the local patrol, the fire department, or any of the other community service sections. If you're not going to work with us, you really ought to pay something back to the community."

The businessman's ears showed red. "So a 'gratuity' here, a 'donation' there, a warehouse broken into yesterday, a fire tomorrow and a 'tip' to the boys who turn out so quickly to put it out. This is no way to do business," he roared.

"The founders of Hurtford Corner never intended business to be done your way. And no, our people don't do business that way either. We're different."

"Different! You're not different. You're downright daft. Captain, there is no global network. No stock exchange. Nothing needed to do business."

Mr.
Shezgo
laughed. "You bet. We don't need them. We don't want them. We get along fine without them."

Izzy suspected she was walking into the middle of a long-running argument, and the source of the call for help she'd intercepted. This planet wasn't doing business the Harvard Business School way, and Mr.
Withwaterson
had problems adjusting. Well, it wasn't the Navy's job to educate him. "Ah, gentlemen, if you don't mind, I'll leave you to your discussions. Mr.
Shezgo
, I'll bring down the first liberty party tomorrow, about noon. If you could let my ship know what time you are keeping, the
portmaster's
message says he's out to lunch until one."

The city manager snorted. "We don't have a
portmaster
. That's a leftover from the Unity thing."

"Yeah. They went out to lunch about the time they lost the war and haven't come back," Mr.
Withwaterson
added. "Personally, I think this whole planet is out to lunch."

Shezgo
shook his head. "You just bring your crew down tomorrow. Captain, we'll show your people a good time."

Izzy
boarded her gig, while the other two returned to their previously scheduled argument. "How'd it go
dirtside
?" was the
XO's
first question when Izzy and Trouble sailed onto the bridge.

"About like I expected," Izzy said as she bounced off the ceiling and dove for her station chair. "The locals and visitors speak the same standard English and can't understand a word. Trouble, turn out your marines in dress red-and-blues to impress tomorrow. I'll also want extra shore patrol detachments. I still don't know what's down there. Probably nothing. But until I'm sure, let's be careful while we have fun."

"Yes,
ma'am"s
answered her from around the bridge. "I do not like problems," Big Al growled.

"Well, if you'd just used some of that pull you're all the time bragging about to handle
Withwaterson
, we wouldn't have a problem," Zef Davis shot back.

Zylon Plovdic kept her mouth shut. Big Al's problems, whether people, places, or things, tended to disappear. The more Zef talked, the more Big Al growled about problems. Pretty soon, Zef was going to disappear. Which was no skin off
Zylon's
nose. She, like Zef, had been born on Hurtford Corner. She also, like Zef, wanted out of the sameness Hurtford Corner prided itself on. When Zef disappeared, Zylon would be another step closer to where she wanted to be.

Conversation paused as the Hurtford standard fare of stew, bread, and beer arrived. The three sat in the back room of a restaurant whose management understood their need for quiet and privacy.

As the waiter retired, Zef continued. "Now, we have two problems. Two guys from the farm stations have rolled into town. I expect they want to talk to the town elders. It would be a disaster if they chanced upon your problem."

"Then you will have to get them out of town before they can." Big Al smiled. Zylon would not want to be on the receiving end of that smile.

"How are you going to handle the navy?" Zef harped on Big Al's part of the problem, ignoring his own.

Big Al pushed himself away from the dining table and the boring food that covered it. He glanced at Zylon. "I understand the Navy is looking for recruits. I believe that gives us an interesting avenue to rush them on their way. Ms. Plovdic, can you help me arrange an appropriate greeting for the crew?"

"I would be glad to." Zylon raised her mug of beer.

Alexander Popov raised his in salute, and drained it. "A quaint local brew. Not unlike a minor one I tasted on Vega. Have you ever been to Vega?"

"Not yet." They exchanged a smile, full of confidence she would see Vega soon.

Ruth hadn't seen Hurtford City for four or five years. Then, like every farm girl who came to town, she'd been husband hunting ... and she'd found herself one.
Mordy
, just off a shuttle, had looked at her like no boy ever had. She'd taken him home, just like her Ma had taken Pa home. So what went wrong? Pa said
Mordy
was nothing like him, but Ruth couldn't help wondering what Ma had that she didn't.

While her life had gone in circles, Hurtford City had grown out. The reprocessing plant for the
pharmacologicals
had been out in the country then. Now it was surrounded by shops, homes, and a solar power plant with its own collection of small factories. As they came down into the valley, Ruth saw buildings stretching almost as far as she could see.

The hotel they stayed at was the same one, now looking a lot smaller and older than Ruth remembered. As they offloaded fresh fruit and vegetables, bags of grain and potatoes to pay their lodging, people passed them—lots of people. Folks didn't wave or shout hello. It was as if, surrounded by so many, they didn't see anyone at all.

Not everyone was busy. Slackers, in parts of Unity uniforms, lounged against the building across from the hotel. None showed guns, but Ruth wondered how many would be willing to kill people like the
Abdoes
or the trader.