ã€ŠSet In Stone: Followerã€‹


 Chapter 01

    The little brown and tan squeaker in front of me passed a fairly substantial milkweed, sniffing at it curiously, but not pulling it up.  I had been letting her do what she wanted in the row, testing her to see how much she had learned on her second day in a corn field.  After it was clear that she wasn¡¯t going to come back for the weed, I set the head of my hoe next to the base of the weed with a quick chopping motion, and said ¡°weed.¡±

    The little squeaker turned around, looked up at me, and darted back, struggling comically as she gripped the big weed in her teeth while trying to rip it out of the ground.  After a few seconds of straining, the weed popped out of the ground and she started munching on the roots.  She didn¡¯t like the taste and spit it out, which was fine.  Swine could eat milkweed, but it wasn¡¯t good for them to eat a lot of it.   I scrubbed her on the back of her neck, not hard, but hard enough that my fingernails scratched across her hide with enough force to wrinkle her skin.  She pressed into the scratching.

    I smiled.  She was going to be a good one, I was pretty sure.  ¡°Good Speedy, good girl¡±  Speedy looked up at me, expectantly, but my other hand was already moving, bringing out one of the tiny acorn meal treats and dropping it in front of her.  Speedy was nearly nine months old, and one of my most promising from this generation.  She already had the floppy ears and white forehead star that marked her as being highly likely to be a tractable forest swine.  Her early training had gone extremely well, and she was almost good enough in corn in two days that I could let her work around me without close supervision like the rest of my sounder.  I still had to watch her closely in the mangel beets though.  She was having a hard time distinguishing between weeds and the mangel beet greens.

    Difficulty with training for mangel beet fields was nothing new.  All my swine had issues with that.  Personally, I didn¡¯t much care for mangel beet greens, even though they were human edible, but the greens were apparently tasty to swine.  Even more of a temptation for a working swine was if one happened to see a grasshopper, snail, or beetle on a leaf.  My swine would eat bugs in preference to almost anything else, except white oak acorns or sweet corn mash.  It was understandably hard for them to not take a bite at a beet leaf to get a tasty bug morsel, as opposed to licking the bug off, or trying to knock the pest off the leaf with a snout.  Even my best-trained swine left a bite mark here or there on a mangel beet leaf.  A bite here or there was acceptable.  If I saw them do it, I chastised them, but I didn¡¯t try to micromanage them.

    I preferred for my swine to work a field after Marza had let her chickens loose for day in that field.  Fewer bugs meant fewer tasty distractions, and less likelihood for a mistake.  Our parents¡¯ traded mine and Marza¡¯s services back and forth.  She would work a field with her four border collies and her chickens.  The next day, I would follow behind with my sounder.  There was a lot more to mine and Marza¡¯s relationship than that, and both families approved as far as I could tell.  Both of our families were still rather careful not to leave us alone for long.  If we wanted to, we could have gotten around it, but if extracurricular activities generated another mouth to feed before Marza and I could feed that extra mouth ourselves, things would get a lot less happy at both farms.

    Shaking my head, I looked up and side to side, checking the swine working in each of the four rows to either side of me.  All eight of them were keeping up with me well enough.  The biggest four, each of them around a hundred kilos, were eating almost everything they tore up.  The smaller ones ranging from thirty to seventy kilos simply couldn¡¯t eat that much and would tear up everything, and eat mostly the roots.  Speedy was tiny, less than fifteen kilos the last time I weighed her, but she might be up to twenty kilos now.

    I continued down the row I was on, letting Speedy lead.  When she missed a weed, I tapped the hoe against the ground next to the missed weed and pulled it away, saying ¡®weed¡¯ every time I touched a plant that didn¡¯t belong in the field.  Speedy would wait till the hoe was moved away from the weed, and then dart forward to grab the offending weed in her mouth and rip it out.  Depending on what kind of weed it was, she¡¯d then eat the whole weed, eat the greens, or eat the roots.  Mostly, Speedy seemed to only eat the roots.  That was fine by me, a weed couldn¡¯t grow itself back into the ground without roots.  As she got bigger, she would eat more and work faster.  I didn¡¯t need to give her a treat for every weed, because the weeds were food.  Whenever she missed one though, I gave her a treat after she fixed her mistake.

    We reached the end of the row, and I looked around.  A couple hundred yards away, I could see Hoss and Bigboy, my two boars.  Hoss was pushing against the pump bar in his enclosure with his forehead, driving the powertrain that operated a screw pump to fill a big water bucket.  As I watched, I heard a loud clack and the rattle of acorns as the water from Hoss¡¯s screw pump finished filling the large bucket of water.  The bucket, when almost full, weighed enough to fall slowly, despite a large counterweight rock.  The bucket on the end of the long pole would drop until the bucket was off balance.  The bucket would then tip forward and pour its collected water into a raised stone cistern.

    Without the water¡¯s mass in the bucket, the large rock counterbalance would then snap the arm and bucket back into place under the spout at the end of the screw pump.  The smaller rock counterbalances attached between the bottom of the bucket and the large shaft made sure the bucket was properly aligned under the water after it was emptied.  For the brief time that the water bucket wasn¡¯t present, the screw pump dropped a stream of water into a wide chute that redirected the water into Hoss¡¯s walking track.  At the same time, a small handful of acorns would fall into a different chute, leading to a small feed trough.  Hoss trotted over to the puddle and rolled a couple times in the mud before standing back up.  Then he wandered over to the small trough where the handful of acorns waited for him.

    I watched Bigboy heave himself to his feet, looking in Hoss¡¯s direction, clearly hearing and smelling Hoss eat.  He shook his head and wandered over to the pump bar in his own enclosure, leaned his forehead against the big rawhide pad there, and started pushing.  After a few seconds, water started filling the bucket, and Bigboy was well on the way to getting a snack for himself.  If the two hogs managed to fill the cistern to overflow, there was a little wooden aqueduct that carried the excess to where the horses, cows, and swine were stabled.  They shared a drinking cistern.  Overflow from that would drain into the swine area, which was at a slightly lower elevation than the barn or horse paddock.  Rainwater from the barn roof and the house was routed to the house cistern for cooking and bathing.  We could use water from the stream-fed pond if needed, but preferred roof water.

    There were two other pump stations, but they were not in use.  The weather had been good, with rain every night for about an hour, so the cistern hadn¡¯t been needed to irrigate.  Tomorrow, I wouldn¡¯t have to bring Bigboy and Hoss out.  In a dry year, we¡¯d have to keep the four biggest boars at the pumps every day during the growing season.  As long as there were acorns and mud to cool off in, they would work off and on all day long and move a surprising amount of water with no need for human interference.

    Horse pumps moved more water because horses were simply bigger and much stronger.  In a really bad year, we would assemble a horse pump for even more water, but we didn¡¯t like to because horses needed harness to run a pump.  Having a horse harnessed to a pump meant you needed a person there too, or you might end up with an injured horse or wrecked pump.  Swine would push with their foreheads, so they couldn¡¯t get wrapped up in harness they didn¡¯t need

    I made a note to myself to mention to Pa that the leather belts that transferred the swine¡¯s pushing into screw pump rotation looked like they would need replacement soon.  There was only another week before harvest started, and maybe a month before harvest ended, including the seed corn harvest.  The belts would certainly make it through the rest of the growing season, but they would probably fail next season early.  We¡¯d make new belts over the winter, and have them ready.

    I turned my attention back to my sounder.  They had all emerged from their rows, and were socializing a little with one another with low toned grunts as they waited for me.  I gave each of them a little acorn meal treat for finishing the row, and walked them to the next set of nine rows.  I directed each of them into a row, tapping my hoe onto the ground between the two corn rows that I wanted each swine to walk between.  The slowest workers got into their rows first.

    Tap.  ¡°Hotfoot.¡±  Tap.  ¡°Duchess.¡±  Tap. ¡°Sneaky.¡±  I settled the rest into their rows, and then moved myself into the middle of nine rows like before.  Before I could tap the ground and call out Speedy¡¯s name, I heard an unmistakable noise that sent a chill down my spine.  I turned my head towards the sound, hoping I was wrong, hoping the loud humming was a big hornet or beetle flying nearby.  I discovered that I wasn¡¯t wrong.  I watched as a locust nearly three inches long landed on the leaf of a nearby corn plant and started to eat, visibly carving onto the leaf with alarming speed.

    My mouth gaped as I thought to myself, its too early.

    I shook off my paralysis, snapped my mouth shut, and whipped out my hoe, smashing the pest off the leaf of the corn plant.  It was a full month too early.  I needed proof.  Speedy dashed out from behind me towards the locust laying on the ground, clearly recognizing it as food that I had dropped for her.  I barely fended her off the locust with the hoe, and she wasn¡¯t happy about it.  I couldn¡¯t give her a treat when she hadn¡¯t done something right, so I scratched the back of her neck for a few seconds, saying nothing.  After a couple seconds she started to press back against the scratching so I knew she¡¯d forgiven me.  Mostly.

    I stayed on one knee, scratching Speedy¡¯s neck a little longer, looking around, listening, and thinking.  I didn¡¯t hear any more locusts, but that didn¡¯t matter.  Overcrowding in their breeding area triggered transformations from big green grasshopper to locust.  Where there was one, there would soon be millions, perhaps billions, maybe trillions in a heavy season.

    I shuddered remembering the bad year.  Five years before, when I was ten, the swarms had been so heavy that the sun hadn¡¯t seemed to shine for two days.  The damn things had eaten the farm down to dirt.  They had even eaten the fenceposts to the ground and the wooden upper parts of all of the barns. The house was stone, and the roof tile, but the inside was largely wood.  Family had spent those two days keeping the locusts from eating through the window frames and getting into the house.  The locusts had literally eaten the clothes off our backs the first day, and the second day we¡¯d worked naked outdoors, guarding the wooden window frames with brooms, which the locusts couldn¡¯t eat because we wouldn¡¯t let them stay on the brooms long enough.  That had been a bad year, but we had already finished the harvest that year, and stored it in the stone food storage huts.  Locusts wouldn¡¯t eat stone.  This year could be worse.  Much worse.

    Shaking my head, I took three deep breaths and counted backwards from nine to zero to calm myself.  Every seven years there was an early spawn, but that wasn¡¯t supposed to be this year.  The last early year was in forty-seven twenty-three, the year after the extremely heavy swarm.  The next was due in forty-seven thirty.  I lifted the cow horn on its strap to my lips and started to blow the alarm.  Not the four-blow alarm of something terrible like a serious injury, but a three-blow alarm to indicate a serious problem that required help.  If I had blown four times, everyone on the farm would have dropped everything and swarmed to the source.  After three evenly spaced short blows, followed by a five second silence, I repeated the three short blows again.  I heard the acknowledging reply of two long three second blows from two sources, almost certainly Edward and Pa.  I blew the code for the Northeast fields and heard more two-blow acknowledgements.

    With all the horn blowing, my sounder was making confused, low pitched noises in the cornfield.  I couldn¡¯t whistle them out of the corn without running the risk that they would damage the crop, so I called them all out of the field, one at a time, row by row, by name.  After they were all out of the field, I led them to the dry wallow in the corner of the field, telling them to ¡°stay.¡±  Most of them flopped down in the dirt and took a nap.  A couple of the younger ones stood, watching me as I ran around swinging my hoe wildly a few feet away.  Occasionally they would make inquisitive noises at my strange antics.

    About five minutes later, Edward and Pa walked up.  Edward, my eldest brother, was glaring at me with a clear warning in his eyes that I had best have good reason for calling him and Pa.  I said nothing and held out my right palm to display the battered body of the last locust I¡¯d knocked out of the air shortly before they arrived.  Edward¡¯s glare disappeared as his head snapped to my hand in shock.  I then heard another locust, and Edward heard it too.  Both of our heads tracked to follow the loud sound of the flying insect, moving too far over our heads for me to club it out of the sky.  Pa¡¯s gaze followed ours.

    ¡°It¡¯s too early.  Far too early.  It¡¯s the wrong year for early.¡± Edward spoke, quietly.

    Pa¡¯s eyes went to my hand again, and then swept the horizon.  I saw his eyes squint twice as he scanned.  He frowned.  ¡°Allen, how many have you collected?¡±

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    ¡°I have eight now, sir.¡± I replied, dropping the one in my hand into my pig treat bag at my hip with the rest.

    ¡°That¡¯s enough then.¡±  He paused.  ¡°Run your sounder to the south fields on the way to the house and let them loose to forage.  Boars to the Southwest field, the rest to the Southeast.  Then stop by the house, tell your granpa and your ma about the locusts and that we¡¯re starting harvest today.  Ask your granpa to help Abe and Molly set up a travois and start moving some of the turpentine-soaked wood to the burning stations around the north fields to prep the fires.  I¡¯ll meet him at the horse barn.¡±  Pa took a deep breath before continuing.  ¡°After that, run to town and tell the Countyman, give him your locusts as proof.  Show the neighbors on the way.  Do not stop, walk, chat, or dawdle.  The Countyman may try to enlist you.  Don¡¯t let him unless he flat out orders you.  If he tries to order you, tell him I need you here.  If he still insists, do what he says, but remind him that he¡¯s got townie kids he can send as runners or riders.  You can do a man¡¯s work.  I want you back here as fast as you can, and I can¡¯t spare a horse for you.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± I pulled out my little wooden whistle, blew a quick note, and called ¡°follow¡± towards my sounder.  The ones that had been laying down stood up, and they all wandered up to me.  I fed them each a treat as they arrived, and then turned towards the screw pumps to collect the boars.

    Pa and Edward started walking towards the center of the farm as they talked about what they would need to do to get started, what everyone would be doing.

    Edward said something with my name in it and I stopped to pay closer attention and heard Pa respond. ¡°If we don¡¯t tell everyone else as soon as we can when there¡¯s an early swarm, people might starve overwinter.  Hours matter.  Minutes matter.  Allen will be back soon.  We need the horses here.  We¡¯ll talk about it later, after we harvest.¡±

    Edward looked up at me, and frowned before pointing towards the screw pumps with a jerky motion.  Pa looked at Edward, then at me, and smiled a bit but said nothing.  I nodded and started running.  The sounder kept up with me easily, enjoying the easy run, grunting socially between themselves.

    About a minute after leaving the corn field, I stopped at the screw pump enclosures.  Both boars had heard the whistle, but not the command.  They were bumping their heads against the gates of their enclosures.  They weren¡¯t trying to force their way out, they were just impatient and confused.  At nearly two hundred kilos each, if they wanted to force the gates they almost certainly could.  I opened Bigboy¡¯s and Hoss¡¯ enclosures and blew my whistle again, calling ¡°follow¡± as I ran to the south fields.  Bigboy and Hoss, despite how big they were, kept up easily.  Loping along, separate from the sounder around me, giving each other and the rest of the sounder plenty of room, one on one side of me, one on the other.  They couldn¡¯t keep up with me on a long run, but on a short run, any of the two-year or older adults could run circles around me.

    I looked for Speedy.  Despite being the youngest and smallest of the group, she seemed fine, which didn¡¯t really surprise me.  She had a surprising turn of speed for a squealer, seemingly able to run as easily as the two juveniles, Hotfoot and Duchess.  Her back legs and hips were a little higher than normal for a forest swine, and she carried her head a little higher despite her hips being higher.  Even though she wasn¡¯t the biggest of her litter, she hadn¡¯t been the runt either, and she¡¯d always been fast to move around.  When I asked his opinion, Granpa said Speedy probably had a little bit of extra farm pig genes in her to give her bigger back legs.  That wasn¡¯t necessarily a bad thing, since she wasn¡¯t carrying extra weight, had the black and tan stripes of a forest swine squealer, and seemed smart enough.

    Confident that nobody was straining to keep up, I picked up the pace a bit.  Coming back towards the center path through the farm, I saw Pa and Edward walking quickly towards the storage barn next to the center east field.  Edward nodded one last time as Pa pointed at the storage barn and then moved towards it in a lumbering run as Pa walked quickly to the horse barn.  I smiled.  Edward hated to run.  He was almost ten years older than me, almost twice as heavy, and probably three times as strong, but he was slow, a bit soft, and got tired pretty quick.  He took after Pa, but was even heavier.  Not fat, but not lean.

    I¡¯ve always been thin like my ma, but much more extreme.  Ma has always said I lost all my baby fat before I was two years old, and Pa always agreed with her.  They said they even took me to the doctor in town when they could see my stomach muscles at not quite two years old, thinking I might be allergic to something I was eating.  I hadn¡¯t been.  This year, I had measured a tiny bit over two meters tall against the doorframe Ma measured us against every summer, fifteen centimeters taller than Edward already, and would probably get a little taller.

    Ma was something of an outsider.  She came from New Dublin as part of a series of arranged marriages between states concerned about genetic diversity.  She had been an old maid at twenty-one and unmarried, and Pa¡¯s first wife and child had died due to premature childbirth with complications.  There had been some letters back and forth before they were just thrown together, but it was far too distant for casual travel.  They never saw one another face to face until the day before they were married.  I¡¯d met Ma¡¯s pa once, in his third visit, many years ago.  Because I was only four at the time, I only remembered than that he was tall and thin compared to Pa, and had long, braided fire red hair.  I apparently took after him, but I kept my hair short.  It was hotter here than New Dublin.

    I arrived at the southwest field gate and unwrapped the rope holding it in place.  ¡°Bigboy, Hoss, inside.¡±  As they passed, I patted them on the sides, feeling for thickening of their subcutaneous side, chest, and shoulder shields that would indicate they were getting ready to go into rut.  It didn¡¯t seem like the shields were thickening up yet.  The boars probably wouldn¡¯t knock over any fence posts rubbing the thickening shields.  Probably.  Fence posts weren¡¯t my real worry though.  It made me nervous leaving the two boars together in the same field because they could tear each other up pretty terribly if they chose to fight for dominance.  I reminded myself that the shields weren¡¯t thickening, and they didn¡¯t act like they were sizing each other up to fight.  Yet.  They would, and it would mean I couldn¡¯t move them both at the same time, anywhere.

    After the two boars entered the gate, they both turned around and wandered back to the gate.  They looked up at me and made deep throat noises, clearly knowing they deserved a treat.  I handed over the expected acorn meal treat and scratched each of them between the ears, and back down the neck.  Unlike the smaller sows, scratching was really a token gesture on the boars after they got to be three or so years old, and these were both five.  Their hide was like armor.  I doubted they could feel my scratching as anything more than a bit of pressure.  They apparently remembered what it felt like though, and appreciated it anyway.

    I quickly moved a few feet along the fence to the southeast field gate and led the rest of my swine in, since they were following me still, and looking expectant.  I gave each of them a treat, and then whistled and gave one last command.  ¡°Stay.¡±  They would wander around a little bit, but stay near the gates.

    These two fields and the west field were all fallow this season, so even if the swine started rooting hard, it wouldn¡¯t matter.  If the locusts swarmed, the pigs would go wild eating them, which was certainly why Pa had me put them in the field.  Free pig food with protein was always good.  Something put pressure on one of my feet, and I looked down at Speedy who was nibbling at my double-bottomed moccasins.  I scratched her head quickly, distracting her from nibbling, and then reached over and scratched the other nearby sows, so nobody would get jealous.  With a little jolt of startlement, I realized I was wasting valuable time, and hoped Pa wasn¡¯t watching me.

    I straightened up and walked out of the gate, quickly checking to be sure both gates were securely roped so they wouldn¡¯t come open easily.  I was very careful to not look around to see if Pa was watching me.  I¡¯d know later if he had been, unless he caught me looking guilty, in which case I¡¯d get yelled at for being slack, and for knowing I was being slack.

    I ran to the house, only stopping by the toolshed to drop off the hoe and farm horn.  I left my staff where I had left it in the morning before taking the swine up to work the corn field.  I wanted to take my staff if I was leaving the farm, but I was going to be running.  I couldn¡¯t afford the extra weight.  The sling and a couple stones I kept my pouch would have to do for self-defense.  I made certain the door was roped shut and ran to the house next.

    I banged through the front door.  ¡°Ma, Granpa, early locusts!¡± I pulled a dead locust out of my pouch and showed it to Ma in the kitchen.  Ma cursed.  Ma never cursed.  I just stared at her for a second.

    Ma¡¯s mouth quirked and she reached up with her hand and pushed her hand gently against the bottom of my jaw to close my mouth.  ¡°Yes, son, I know those words.  Is your pa sending you to the Countyman and the neighbors?  When did you last eat?¡±

    I struggled to remember. ¡°I, uh, think it was breakfast.  I¡¯m pretty sure I didn¡¯t take anything out since I was going to be on the farm all day, and was planning on coming back for lunch after the corn, before moving to the mangels.¡±

    Ma opened the breadbox and pulled out a half loaf of fresh loaf bread and two flatbread biscuits the size of my palm, setting them on the counter.  ¡°Eat the half-loaf now.  Put the rest in your pouch.  Give me your cameltote and I¡¯ll fill it.  Show your granpa the locust.¡±

    I hesitated, figuring out what order to do things in, and then took four long, quick steps to the common room and set the dead locust on the table next to where Granpa was working before walking over to the sink and washing my hands.  I wasn¡¯t so much worried about the bug blood, but I had been in the field all morning working with the swine.  Swine weren¡¯t unsanitary, but they sure weren¡¯t clean either.  Ma insisted on washing hands before eating anyway, and had been watching me.  School had taught me about bacteria and toxins, so I had long ago decided she was probably right.  I still forgot now and then though, and Ma caught me every time I did.

    As I was leaning over the sink, dipping water out of the water on the stove and wetting my hands, Ma quickly pulled my pouch behind me and put the flatbreads in the large compartment.  As I was rubbing my hands together with a bit of soap, Ma lifted the cameltote off my shoulder, unwrapped the string holding the mouthpiece folded closed, and filled the half-empty cameltote with the wooden dipper and a funnel.  She tossed a couple salt tablets in too and rewrapped and knotted the mouthpiece.  ¡°Thanks Ma!¡±  I said as I dried my hands, grabbed the bread, and stuffed about a quarter of the half-loaf in my mouth.

    I dropped my shoulder a bit and leaned my head down so she could more easily put the cameltote back on me.  After she got the cameltote over my shoulder, she gave me a kiss on the cheek and told me ¡°Watch your footing.¡±

    I grinned and swallowed the big mouthful of bread.  ¡°Yes, Ma, I will!¡± I then gave her a little hug and a peck on the cheek before turning around and pulling out a short length of thin rope that I kept in my main pouch with my left hand, and stuffing my bread in my mouth with my right.

    As I turned around, I saw that Granpa hadn¡¯t stopped carefully cutting potatoes and carrots after I dropped the locust on the table.  Still continuing to cut, Granpa was staring at the locust.  He looked up at me.  ¡°Too early.  Wrong year.  Where¡¯s your pa?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s headed to the horse barn and Edward is going to the equipment barn.  We¡¯re going to start harvesting today.  He asked me to ask you to help get Abe and Molly together, rig up a travois, and get the turpentine wood to the burning stations.  He said he¡¯ll be waiting at the horse barn to talk with you.¡±

    Granpa nodded, and carefully set aside the tempered glass blade he had been using, tapping it lightly with a gnarled finger as he put it next to the dead locust.  I took the hint and picked it up and carefully handed it to Ma, who immediately washed it and put it with the other kitchen knife.

    While I was doing that, Granpa had collected his crutches and stood, starting to hobble towards the door on his remaining foot, saying ¡°Allie, Please get Abe and Molly out of the garden and have them meet me at the horse barn.¡±

    Ma answered ¡°Of course, Simon, I¡¯ll do that now.¡± And walked towards the back of the house.

    Granpa easily negotiated the front door.  I did not help him.  That would get me a glare, and maybe a sour comment.  After he was clear, I followed him out the door, stuffing another big chunk of bread into my mouth as I jogged past.  In about a minute, I was at the road, and warmed up.  I did a couple quick stretches, while using the thin rope in my left hand to tie my pouch and cameltote to my suspenders so they wouldn¡¯t flop around so much as I ran.  Finally, I sucked a healthy swallow of water out of the cameltote¡¯s neck that lay over my shoulder, swishing the salty water around in my mouth for a second while I rewrapped the mouthpiece.  Then I started to run.

 Chapter 02

    As I ran, I thought.  Running was a good time for thinking because it was really easy for me.  I was built for it.  Ma said I was born to run, and Pa frequently complained that I didn¡¯t have more meat on my bones.  Pa was a big man, and strong.  He would have been bigger and stronger if he hadn¡¯t had so many ribs broken by a horse rolling on him when he was my age.  As it was, Pa couldn¡¯t run without pain, and hard work hurt him, but he did it anyway.  Work wouldn¡¯t do itself.

    I met Ted, the Hershel family¡¯s youngest son who could ride, on his pony as I ran up the Hershel family road to their farmhouse.  The six-year-old was commendably serious and didn¡¯t waste any time.  He was headed down their road to the main road, and called out to me as soon as we were within loud talking distance.

    ¡°You got locusts too?¡±

    I slowed to a jog and responded.  ¡°Yes.  Scattered forerunners.  You¡¯ve seen them too?¡±

    He nodded energetically and his pony shied a little bit as I ran around it.  With a quick tug on the reins, a couple throat clucks, and a pat on the neck, Ted had his mount under complete control.  I paced Ted and his mount as they trotted towards the road, and a second or so after his pony was under control, he spoke again.  ¡°Pa saw the first one about twenty minutes ago.  He told me to go tell the Countyman and everyone on the way into town.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m doing that now.  Can you go the other way?¡± I asked.

    Ted stared at me.  ¡°No.  My Pa said¡­¡±

    ¡°Ask your Pa.  Tell him I asked you to go the other way on the road for two hours.  I¡¯ll get word to town and the neighbors faster than you can, but we need to tell people the other way too, if they haven¡¯t already seen forerunners.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to question my Pa, Allen.¡±

    ¡°Go.  Ask your Pa if I told you right.  Tell him what I said.  Tell him I told you to ask him.¡±  I looked at Ted¡¯s plump pony.  It was definitely not an endurance breed.  ¡°I can outrun your pony into town, and your Pa will know it.  But I can¡¯t run both ways.¡±

    Ted looked me up and down as I jogged next to his pony, clearly trying to make a decision.  After a moment he tugged his reins, and his pony slowed and turned back up towards the house.  ¡°I will ask Pa.  You will tell everyone on the way into town, and the Countyman?¡±

    As I pulled away from Ted, I called back to him.  ¡°Yes.  I will.  Except the prism tower.  The Countyman has to authorize signal, and they don¡¯t have crops there.¡±

    Ted¡¯s pony was already trotting back up the path.  We were out of easy talking range, so he waved at me with a wide overhead swing of his arm as he went to go find his pa.  My family was on very good terms with the Hershels, with blood relations three generations back.  I was certain that Ted¡¯s Pa would agree with me.

    I grinned a little to myself.  After all, it was his eldest son, Kale, on one of their horses that I had raced into town and beat last year.  Not by much, but I beat him.  If Ted had been riding the same horse, it probably would have beaten me.  Ted¡¯s fat pony would collapse trying to match me over twenty kilometers.

    When I got back to the road, I stopped jogging and started running again.  In a few seconds, I had carefully metered my steps and breathing into my best pace short of a sprint.  I could run three minutes then jog five and run again until my body sugar was depleted.  On the next jog I¡¯d eat half of one of the flatbreads.  I hoped it was one of the ones with a bit of sugar inside.

    Marza¡¯s family road was the second homestead on the way into town.  As I jogged up their road and got close to the house, everything seemed calm.  Marza¡¯s granpa was sitting on a rocker on the front porch, whittling something, rapid, sure movements of his hands that didn¡¯t stop as he looked up to watch me approach.

    ¡°Have you seen the locusts yet, Sir?¡± I called out.

    Mr. Gonzalez just stared at me for a second like I was an idiot before shaking his head as he stood, banging his right fist into the side if the house and yelling ¡°Felisha, come here now!¡± as he carefully stood and walked down the steps to meet me.  ¡°No.  Show me.¡±

    Trust, then verify.  It wasn¡¯t a question.  Mr. Gonzalez knew I wouldn¡¯t come here and say that without proof, but he¡¯d ask for the proof anyway.

    He swiped his glass knife reflexively back and forth to clean it on his leather pants before sheathing it as I stopped moving in front of him, jogging in place so I wouldn¡¯t cramp up.

    I pulled one of the dead bugs out of my swine treat bag and handed it to him.  He traced the outline of the insect with one finger while muttering ¡°Wrong year.¡±  After touching the locust, he lifted a finger with bug juice on it next to his nose and sniffed.

    Marza¡¯s ma, Felisha, appeared in the doorway.  ¡°Yes, Pa, what do you need?¡±

    Mr. Gonzalez pointed at the locust I was holding out for him to see, and she went pale as a cloud before visibly shaking herself.  Her hand shot out like a whip, reaching inside the door to grab the horn there, quickly drawing it to her mouth and blowing three short blows, waiting a few seconds, and then three more.  I heard at least five horns reply, and then Marza¡¯s ma blew one long blow for the main house.  Almost everyone used the same patterns up to four blows.  Some farms used more complex patterns, but almost everyone used the same basic patterns.  If you were born on one farm and married into another, not knowing horn signals could be a real problem.

    Mr Gonzalez handed the locust back to me, saying ¡°Keep it.  You¡¯re going to the Countyman and telling everyone on the way there?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Sir.  Except the prism tower.¡±  I said while I struggled to put the bug back in the swine treat pouch while jogging in place.

    After a half second looking at me, meeting my eyes, he nodded.  ¡°You sent someone the other way, or do we need to?¡±

    ¡°I met Ted Hershel who was on his way into town.  I sent him to his Pa and told him to explain to his Pa that Ted should go the other way.  I think he will.¡±

    He nodded.  ¡°Felisha, send Pako to the Hershel farm and make sure Ted was sent the other way.  If he didn¡¯t, we¡¯ll probably see him any minute now, but I want to be sure someone goes the other way.  Tell Pako that if Ted did go into town, he¡¯s to go away from town and tell people like Allen asked Ted to do.¡±

    I was hoping to at least get to wave to Marza, but she was probably at one of the fields with her border collies and chickens.  Without a four-blow alarm, she would be penning her chickens before coming to the house with the dogs.

    Mr. Gonzalez made a shooing motion with his hands, with a little smile as he caught me looking down their road past the house.  ¡°Go.  Unless you need water or a little food?¡±

    With a loud sigh that made Mr. Gonzalez and Marza¡¯s ma both smile this time, I said ¡°No, sir.  Leaving now.¡±  As I turned, and started jogging for real rather than in place, the two of them started talking rapidly, planning for the emergency harvest.  As much as I wanted to see Marza before the insanity of an emergency harvest, I had to go.

    As I got up to speed, Marza¡¯s Ma called out.  ¡°We¡¯ll tell her hello for you.¡±

    I waved a big wave over my head and called out a heartfelt ¡°Thanks!¡±  I didn¡¯t look back.  Turning an ankle would not be good.

    Marza¡¯s granpa was smarter and knew more than most of my teachers, I was pretty sure.  Rumor had it that when he was young, he had been a speculator in New Singapore across the inner sea, and found an old house foundation from the ancient days in a jungle.  In that house, he had supposedly found a sealed carbon shell that had a real motor in it.  A motor, at least two kilos.  A huge chunk of metals from around the time of the Albert Incident.

    Supposedly, he sold the shell and motor to the Medical Guild.  The shell would have been filled with alcohol and used for bug-free metal storage.  The metals would have been made into needles and scalpels.  The story was a little supported by the fact that he could talk rings around just about anyone about geology and soil management.  Everyone came to him when their crops didn¡¯t grow right so they could talk about what to do to amend the soil.

    Marza said he was teaching her soil chemistry which we would certainly need at our own place.  I had never done well in chemistry, but Marza had been almost perfect every year.  She even did well in the elective metallurgy and metal storage class in the last year before we graduated, which few people ever bothered taking.  I had taken an advanced genetics class instead, hoping that I¡¯d be able to translate the academics into useful knowledge with my swine and Marza¡¯s border collies and chickens.

    I didn¡¯t know if it were true that Mr. Gonzalez had found an ancient motor, and it didn¡¯t matter.  I¡¯d never asked, because I didn¡¯t need to know and it felt like prying.  It was more fun to imagine the story was true.  I think that might have been one reason he liked me, because I never asked him about it.

    When I reached the main road I kept jogging for a minute while I ate half a flatbread, which had sugar and cheese in it.  Ma was awesome.  I took a couple drinks of water from the cameltote and sealed it, jogged about another thirty seconds, and then started running again.

    The next three family farms didn¡¯t know about the locusts.  We weren¡¯t close to any of them, so I didn¡¯t stop to chat.  I handed whoever was at the house a locust, told them I was headed into town and the Hershel and Gonzalez families were spreading the word out of town.  I didn¡¯t have to say anything else.  Horns were blowing at every farm before I left the porch.

    When I was about a mile from town, I saw a familiar sight.  A gigantic grey shape on the road, with a heavy six-wheeled cart a little way beyond it.  I slowed from a run to a jog when I was thirty or forty meters away, because Teak¡¯s eyesight wasn¡¯t good, and I didn¡¯t want to get him upset.  Everyone knew that you had to slow down on the road to pass elefants.  Especially if they had calves.  Most road crew elefants were elderly though, too old to move massive logs.  Sometimes an injured cow would be young and healthy enough to still bear calves, and capable of working with the road crew.  Any elefant with the ability to walk easily was an amazingly powerful puller.  Even the largest paving stones were inconsequential weights to elefants that could still walk at all.  Logging and roadbuilding were the only two major jobs that elefants did though.  They were less efficient than smaller draft animals for simple pulling.  In a job that required both pulling and carrying though, they were worth their weight in aluminum.

    As I approached, Donal, Teak¡¯s mahout waved at me.  Teak was carrying a stone from the cart towards Kristof, who was pouring a little sand into the hole next to the broken pieces of an old paving stone.  I stayed about five meters away, jogging in place while Teak finished carrying the stone to where Kristof was waiting for it.  The harness strapped onto her upper tusks supported the large stone slung in the rope net which she set daintily on the ground with Donal¡¯s encouragement.  Kristof slid the stone out of the rope net and scratched Teak¡¯s trunk.  Teak rumbled briefly.

    After setting the stone on the ground, and having her brief conversation with Kristof, Teak stretched her trunk towards me, and rumbled a little more.  I recognized it as a greeting.

    ¡°Hello, Teak!¡± I called out to her.  ¡°Donal and Kristof good day to you as well, of course.¡±  I nodded to them.  They both smiled, Donal with a huge grin, Kristof with a little smirk.  It was a little joke between us three that I preferred Teak¡¯s company to theirs.  I had been a sullen and angry thirteen year old the first time I had been assigned to the road crew for fighting.  The second and third times, I had actually somewhat looked forward to the ¡®punishment¡¯ of working on the road crew around Teak, because she was fascinating.  At least as smart as my swine.  Much smarter than dogs.  She was more emotional than swine too, apparently happy to do things just because Donal asked her to.  Not that she didn¡¯t love her treats.

    Kristof stood, and moved to the side, so Teak could approach me directly.  I pulled an acorn treat out of my swine treat pouch as she slowly approached, stretching out her trunk like a huge arm.  The two little finger-pincers at the end of her trunk gently touched the palm of my hand as she felt out the shape of the treat and secured it.  Teak loved acorn treats.  I had taught Donal how to make them, since white acorns were so easy to get around here, and banana trees, which Teak adored, didn¡¯t grow here.  He and Teak were from over a thousand kilometers south along the shore of the inner sea, in New Ecuador.  There were few oaks in the tropical regions, and the ones that were there were usually in the outskirts, not where most of the lumbering industry took place.

    Slapping his hands on his pants, Kristof called out to me.  ¡°Legs, it looks like you¡¯ve worked up quite a lather getting here.  Is everything OK?¡±  He was giving me a serious look, clearly a little confused by my presence.

    ¡°Locusts, Kristof, early and in an off year.¡±  I pulled out one of my remaining dead locusts and handed it to him.  Teak snuck her trunk in to see what we were trading and Kristof let her small at it for a second.  She lost interest in Kristof¡¯s hand with the bug, and her trunk shifted towards my midsection, getting closer and closer to the swine treat pouch.  I scratched her trunk with one hand and pulled another treat out of the pouch.  ¡°One more, Teak.  One more.¡±  Teak bobbed her head up and down slightly and rumbled.  I gave her another treat.

    Kristof looked over at Donal.  ¡°Start hitching her now.  We need to get her back to her paddock with her pond so she can get away from them in the water.¡±

    Donal nodded.  ¡°Thank you for the warning, Allen.  Teak would thank you too if she knew what was coming.¡±

    ¡°No problem.  I would have told you anyway, but I remembered that you said Teak hated locusts.  Still no clue how bad the swarm will be this year, but the frontrunners are normally no more than six or eight hours ahead of the main swarm.  I saw two over the road in the last thirty minutes.  You will start seeing frontrunners soon, guaranteed.  I would help you hitch Teak and get moving but I can¡¯t.  I have to tell the Countyman, and then run back to the farm to help with the harvest while there¡¯s still something left.¡±

    Kristof looked at me with a frown.  ¡°Your pa didn¡¯t let you ride into town?¡±

    I shook my head.  ¡°We need the horses there, and we only have draft breeds anyway.  I¡¯m faster than them on the run to town, not to mention a run to town and back, and my Pa knows it.¡±

    As I finished saying that, I thought to myself.  Even if Edward doesn¡¯t.  If I don¡¯t hurt myself, he¡¯ll know it for sure today.

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    Nodding, Kristof pointed to the wagon, which had four barrels of water on it for Teak.  There was also a big leather tote of boiled, salted water for humans to drink.  ¡°Get some water if you need it.¡±

    I shook my head.  ¡°Thank you, but no.  I¡¯ve still got a half cameltote, and only about two kilometers to get to town.  If I drink my own, I get lighter.¡±

    ¡°Suit yourself.¡± Kristof turned back to the work site, thought for a second, and said ¡°Donal I¡¯m going to seat this last one then help you.  I don¡¯t want to leave a wrong-fit stone.¡±  He picked up a flat piece of wood and a wooden mallet, and measured the flatness of the new stone compared to the ones next to it.  After a moment¡¯s thought, he lifted the thick stone with his hook-end tool and put more sand underneath before letting the stone back down and tapping it with his mallet and measuring again.

    ¡°Goodbye Teak!¡± I called out as I started jogging off.

    Teak knew what ¡®goodbye¡¯ meant, and gave me a brief trumpet farewell as she waved her trunk in my general direction.

    Smiling to myself, I started jogging towards town instead of in place and pulled out the second half of the first flatbread, and finishing it off with some water before I started running again.

    During the rest of the run, I thought about how lucky I had been to work with the road crew instead of some of the other community labor I might have been assigned to.  Net mending or stone breaking would have been horrible.  The Countyman had assigned me to the road crew for a day the first time, three days the second time, and a full week the third.  Pa had been upset the first two times and livid with me the third time.

    The third time I fought in school, the Countyman brought me to the farm and sat me down with Ma and Pa and we had a deadly serious conversation.  The Countyman made himself clear.  If I fought three times after becoming a legal adult at sixteen, I would be forehead branded and sent to one of the prison colonies for the rest of my life.  That was the law, and if Albert caught us violating it, we would accrue community demerits.  If a claim was made that a fight had been forced by one fighter on another in a way that one of the fighters could not allow to pass, the Countyman would request Albert¡¯s assistance from the glass sphere sitting next to the big picture window in the Countyman¡¯s residence.  Albert could read people like books, and his word was final.

    I tried to defend myself saying that I wasn¡¯t trying to establish control over other young men like some sort of monkey, I was pushing them back from their attempts to establish control over me.  That had gotten me a withering look and short, angry speech from the Countyman.  ¡°Allen, that¡¯s my job.  If people push you, it¡¯s your responsibility to tell me.  I straighten it out.  That¡¯s why Albert¡¯s orb is in my house, not yours.  If I don¡¯t do my job conscientiously and fail more than a few times, Albert will find another house where someone else will do the job right.  If he doesn¡¯t find a good person here in this town, he will call someone from somewhere else in the county, or even the world to come here and take my job AND my house.  Part of me doing my job right according to Albert is me handling things before Albert has to be involved.  If I tap on that orb three times to get Albert¡¯s attention, I failed.¡±

    Ma and Pa had made agreement noises and nodded at that, not actually saying anything.  Their words came later.  Pa worked me hard in the fields for weeks after that night, and Ma was very careful saying anything to me when Pa was around.  When Pa wasn¡¯t around, Ma quietly explained to me that her family had several convicted fighters.  It was one reason she had been an old maid, because fighting seemed to run in her family.  She had been sent to marry Pa, because nobody in Pa¡¯s family had been convicted for fighting in over two hundred years.  Pa¡¯s family was also a low birthrate family, and her family was a high birthrate family.  This was the first generation in Pa¡¯s family with more than two live born children for five generations.

    ¡°Yes, you, Allen.  Stop.¡±

    The Countyman¡¯s red brick house was no more than fifty meters away.  ¡°What?  Sorry.  Thinking.¡± I said out loud as I jogged in place and turned to the voice, recognizing it as I played it through my head again.  The Countyman stood in front of the butcher¡¯s shop, a thin paper wrapped package in hand.

    ¡°You¡¯re running to my house?¡±  He looked at me with a piercing stare, and pointed at himself.  ¡°I¡¯m right here.  Speak unless it¡¯s something you have to tell me in private.¡±

    Shaking my head, I replied.  ¡°Not secret sir.  Definitely not secret.¡±  I pulled a couple locusts out of the swine treat bag, and held them out in an open palm.

    The Countyman reached out a hand and touched the locusts, picking one up and looking closely at it before putting the dead bug back in my hand and cursing.

    That was the second person who never cursed that I had seen curse that day.  My face apparently showed that he had startled me, but I said nothing.

    The Countyman¡¯s lip turned up a little as he looked at me, but he didn¡¯t say anything for a second.  ¡°Follow me, Allen.¡±  He ran to his house.  The Countyman ran.

    He was a slow runner though.  Short legs and a bit overweight.  I just jogged after him.  He barged into his house, slamming open the door, calling out, loudly.  ¡°Jen, Sven, come here NOW!¡±

    After a second, his son and daughter, twins, barreled down the stairs from the second story of the house.

    The Countyman¡¯s wife called out from the back of the house.  ¡°What is it dear, what¡¯s the yelling for?¡±  I heard her walking towards the front of the house as the twins skidded to a halt in front of the Countyman at the front door.  I kept jogging in place slowly on the brick walkway next to the front porch stairs.

    ¡°Locusts, Mary.¡±  The Countyman turned to me.  ¡°How many do you have?¡±

    I answered.  ¡°Four left sir.  I gave one each to people that wanted solid proof to show their families.  I had eight when I started.¡±

    The Countyman turned to his son.  ¡°Sven, get two of the locusts from Allen and take it to the town horn.  Blow once to get Buk¡¯s attention.  Do NOT forget to put on the earmuffs.  I don¡¯t want you deaf.  Whoever shows up, show them the locusts.  Do not let them take them.  When Buk shows up, show him the locusts and tell him to blow to mobilize for emergency harvest.¡±

    The town horn was a very large vuvuzela horn.  Easily a dozen feet long, made from a single split log, and then glued back together again.  A good blower could be heard all the way at our farm, twenty-one or so kilometers away.  If you were close to it when it was blown by anyone, it hurt.  A powerful blower could deafen you permanently if you were close and didn¡¯t have ear protection.  We didn¡¯t use vuvuzelas on the farm because they scared the animals.  Badly.  Buk was a barrel-chested man and a very powerful blower.  The nearest three prism towers would be able to hear it, and would be looking our way, waiting for signal.

    After finishing his instructions to his son, the Countyman turned to his daughter, handing her his ring of office.  ¡°Jen, run to the prism tower, and tell them to signal all three adjoining stations.  ¡®Locust sighting.¡¯  Stay there until you get conformation from all three stations.  Once you have it in writing, run back to me.¡±

    Sven was still standing in front of his pa, hopping from foot to foot.  ¡°Uh, Sir.¡±

    ¡°What?  What are you waiting for?¡± The Countyman snapped.

    ¡°Sir, you¡¯re blocking the door.¡± Sven said, with a little grin.

    The Countyman went motionless for a second then stepped aside and ruffled his son¡¯s head as he barreled through the door towards me.

    I moved to the side as Sven ran by me, handing him the two locusts as he headed towards the town center about a hundred meters away down the road.

    Jen ran by me a second later, heading back the way I had come, putting her pa¡¯s glass ring with the thin band of something shiny on one of her own fingers.  I had never noticed that the Countyman¡¯s ring had metal in it.

    After both of his children ran into the road, the Countyman turned to me.  ¡°Son, you can stop jogging.  You¡¯re here.¡±

    I shook my head.  ¡°I can¡¯t risk tightening up sir.  I have to run back and help with the harvest as soon as I¡¯m done talking to you.¡±

    ¡°You ran here from your farm, and you¡¯re running straight back to your farm?¡±  The Countyman looked at me, puzzled.

    ¡°Yes sir.¡±  Most people really didn¡¯t understand how good I could run.  Not even after I outran a horse.  Saying that out loud would just be bragging though, so I let the Countyman think.

    After a second, he sighed.  ¡°I¡¯d rather have you here, but I can send town kids and Messenger Guild runners to make sure nobody¡¯s being a fool and ignoring the emergency harvest.  Would you like a sugar tea?¡±

    Without hesitation, I agreed.  A sugar tea would be incredible. ¡°Yes, sir.  I¡¯ll take a sugar tea, happily.¡±

    The Countyman turned towards his wife, but she was already moving into the house.  ¡°One sugar tea coming up, Allen.  You¡¯re running.  No milk.¡±

    ¡°Thank you ever so much!¡± I called back into the house.

    I pulled the last two locusts out of my swine treat pouch and hopped up onto the porch, handing them to the Countyman, and then hopping back onto the walkway, wiping my hands on my pants and then the tails of my shirt with a grimace.  I didn¡¯t want to get locust goop on the Countyman¡¯s cup.

    The Countyman stared at me wiping my hands.  He blinked in confusion and then looked at the locusts and grinned.  ¡°Mary will appreciate that.¡±  He paused.  ¡°You¡¯ve shaped up quite a bit in the last year, Allen.  I¡¯ve heard that there might be a house-raising soon for you and Marza?¡±

    I know I blushed.  The Countyman grinned again, and the town horn let loose with a single high-pitched scream.  The rapidly quavering sound seemed to crawl across my skin like something alive.  We both winced and every dog in town protested, howling.  I knew how they felt.  I really wanted to be out of town before Buk blew the horn.

    ¡°I hope that fool son of mine put on the earmuffs like I told him to.¡± The Countyman muttered as we both rubbed our ears briefly.

    I didn¡¯t comment.  Sven was a year behind me in school.  He would graduate next year.  I didn¡¯t know him well, but I knew that he wasn¡¯t bright.  I noticed that I had stopped jogging when the horn startled me, and started again before I could tighten up.

    The Countyman looked at me.  ¡°Have you considered the Messenger Guild for a year or two, Allen, to build up a little nest egg before you start your farm?¡±

    I took a second to make sure I wasn¡¯t saying anything in a tone that might be considered angry.  ¡°No place for my swine there, sir.  I looked into it in school at the job fair.¡± The Messenger Guild had pestered me for a month at school after I won the race.  I could understand why, but after I told them no three times, it got annoying.

    A rounded shape in a tan apron appeared at the door and I watched the Countyman¡¯s wife carefully walk down the stairs.  She was a lot younger than him, and clearly still young enough to get pregnant.  I hadn¡¯t even noticed she was pregnant before.

    She handed me the heavy glass mug.  I was grateful.  It was clearly not good glassware.  It looked a lot like what we had at the house.  Judging from the heat of the glass I would be able to drink it without needing to cool it.

    I stopped jogging in place and took a quick sip to test the temperature.  It was warm but not hot, and very sweet.  I could taste honey and lemon in it too.  I drained the glass in three deep swallows and held the glass up for a couple more seconds while the thick liquid sugar goop at the base of the cup drained into my mouth.

    Thanking her for the drink, I started jogging in place again as I handed her the mug.  ¡°Thank you very much Ma¡¯am.  I really appreciate that, especially the honey and lemon.¡±  Honey was easy to get.  Lemons not so much.  It wasn¡¯t extravagant.  I¡¯d eaten chicken with lemon twice at the pub on Harvest Day with the family, but we never had lemon at the house.  We got our vitamin C from blackberries, persimmons, and other fruits we found in season.  Some of the vegetables from the garden were pretty good sources too.  Lemon was tasty though.  I intentionally avoided smacking my lips.

    ¡°Go, get back to your farm, Allen.  Thank your pa for sending notice, and thank you for getting it here so fast.¡±  The Countyman waved his hand in farewell and stepped to the base of the steps and offered an arm to his wife as she started climbing the stairs.  She took his arm, more from habit than need, as far as I could tell.

    I nodded ¡°Thank you, sir.  I¡¯ll tell him.¡±  I turned and jogged back the way I¡¯d come, taking stock of the situation.  I didn¡¯t have to stop and tell anyone anything on the way, so I¡¯d get home faster than I got here.  Maybe an hour and ten minutes or so, without interruptions.  I sloshed the cameltote.  A bit less than half full.  I¡¯d eat Ma¡¯s second flatbread when I was about halfway.  The sugar tea was already hitting my system.  I could feel it.  After I was on the road, I started running, thinking I hope I get out of town before Buk gets to the horn.

    I caught up to Jen as she was running towards the prism tower.  As I passed her, she slapped my backside and wolf-whistled.  ¡°Marza¡¯s a lucky girl, I can see, Allen.¡±

    I slowed a bit and turned, starting to jog carefully backwards, grinning at her.  It was always nice to be paid a compliment, even if it was a little catty.  ¡°Afraid I can¡¯t comment on Marza being lucky, Jen, but I seem like a nice enough guy to me.¡±

    She laughed, and started running faster.  I noticed she wasn¡¯t breathing hard.  As I realized what she had done, I turned away from her before she could see me get angry.  She wasted time and ran slow so she could intercept me.  I shook my head.  Minutes matter.  She risked people¡¯s lives to make a pass at me.

    Hoping I wasn¡¯t projecting my anger in my voice, I called out without turning.  ¡°Sorry Jen, I have to hurry home.¡±  I started running again, pushing myself a little so I would quickly get out of range of Jen¡¯s efforts at conversation.  It was almost always nice to be paid a compliment.

    As I left Jen behind, I heard the angry noise of locusts in flight and watched four locusts fly across the road in quick succession.  By the time I was halfway home, I could see dozens of locusts in the air at any given time.

    All of a sudden, I understood why the ancients sometimes turned to prayer.

 Chapter 03

    As I got closer to home I wracked my brain, trying to get an idea of how bad this swarm might be.  Locusts arrived in geometric proportion.  The frontrunners of a swarm were scattered here and there.  Over time, more and more would be evident, until the swarm reached numbers that were impossible to count, and difficult to estimate accurately.  A rough idea of how many locusts had passed over an area could be made by seeing what they left behind where they were not actively being prevented from feeding.  A modest swarm would eat grass to dirt and all the leaves from trees.  A heavy swarm would eat smaller limbs and branches from some types of trees.  An enormous swarm would substantially prune every tree and reduce most bushes to stumps.  Locusts tended to travel until they could detect the sea before they began eating in earnest, a biological trigger.  There were no forests within twenty kilometers of any sea coast.  We were about forty kilometers from the coast.  Far enough away that the locusts wouldn¡¯t be triggered into voracious mode as they passed over us.

    Still, locusts landed every now and then to eat a little and then continue on.  They preferred crops to anything else, and then grass, followed by deciduous tree leaves and finally evergreen leaves, wool, leather, or even wood.  There had been cases reported of them consuming utterly helpless newborn animals like mouse pinkies and swarming on carrion, but never predation on anything that was capable of moving around.  It was useless trying to calculate how dangerous they were now.  The only sane choice was to act as if this was the worst possible scenario.  Especially since the crops weren¡¯t in yet.

    I slowed down from running to a jog, popped the last bits of the second flatbread in my mouth.  Honey and blackberry, with a touch of mint.  It was delicious.  I made a mental note to cajole and flatter Ma to get at least a couple of her filling recipes to give to Marza.  Maybe I¡¯d ask for it as a marriage gift?  I drained the cameltote of the last couple swallows of water, and concentrated on my breathing and pace.  The locusts were a constant sound now.  I forced myself to ignore what that sound meant, and use the meaningless sound to help center myself.  I rested as I jogged, waiting to start feeling the carbs from the last of the bread starting to hit my system.

    A new sound collected my attention, breaking me out of my centering.  There was a carriage on the road.  A carriage with unhappy horses.  It was riding in the center of the road, and as I watched the driver had to make two course adjustments as the horses shied from locusts launching into the air from under their hooves.

    ¡°How far to town, son?¡± The driver yelled out to me as we reached speaking distance.

    I swerved over to the side of the road and looked at the k-mark tile on its small stone pedestal. Since he was riding the center of the road with skittish animals, he couldn¡¯t see the number on top.  He was pretty high up on the carriage though.  Maybe he had bad vision?  ¡°About eighteen kilometers, sir.¡±

    The driver responded cordially, tipping his hat to me.  ¡°Thank you, son.¡±

    As the carriage passed me, I saw a man and a woman watching out of the windows of the carriage.  Middle-aged, soft faces with dark hair touched with grey.  I didn¡¯t recognize them, and they didn¡¯t look like anyone I knew.  Their eyes darted here and there on me as I passed.  I looked at them as they looked at me, waving as I passed, and they waved back.  Curious, I looked back at the carriage as I passed it.  There were several crates, but the bottom two were pitch-sealed, and marked ¡®books¡¯ in very large letters.  Language teachers.  Our other teachers stayed here in the community, but language teachers travelled thousands of kilometers every year, moving from region to region.  Language unity was hammered into everyone.  Miscommunication was a potential source of conflict.  Everyone had to speak the same language.

    Teaching other languages was banned in schools.  A few families still taught other languages to their children at home, and there was no penalty or pressure not to do so.  As long as you spoke Primary, you were allowed to speak anything else you wanted.  Children raised who couldn¡¯t properly speak Primary, but could speak another languages, would cost the parents a slightly higher tax.  Later in life, the tax would shift to the speaker.  Marza¡¯s family spoke a language that they called Latino, but it didn¡¯t seem to be the same as the Latin words that were used in science.  Marza had taught me a few words of it, but I hadn¡¯t been very enthusiastic.  Her pet name for me was ¡®Tonto¡¯, and none of her family would tell me what it meant.  They all smiled when I asked, so I guessed it wasn¡¯t too bad.

    I shook my head and picked up the pace from a jog into a run.  My family only spoke Primary, and I was glad for it, but I had to say that it would probably be a little fun to be able to speak something else.  Maybe I¡¯d learn Latino as our kids did, because Marza had already promised she would teach them.  Her granpa had even spoken to me seriously once, making sure I would let our children learn Latino.  It apparently was important enough to their family that it might make a difference in whether or not their family would support us marrying one another.

    I ran up the family road, and stopped by the south fields to check on my swine as I passed.  They were all happily chasing locusts around the field.  Even if they had eaten their fill recently, they would make room for locusts, stuffing themselves happily.  Speedy was running around and trying to catch them out of the air like she was one of Marza¡¯s dogs chasing a ball, with some success.  The sounder and the boars were all happily grunting as they caught the locusts, which weren¡¯t making much effort to be evasive.  My swine mostly ignored me, though the two boars and the four oldest sows turned slightly so they could see me better.  I laughed at them, and all of them looked up at me briefly.  After a few seconds, since I didn¡¯t give them any commands, they resumed the important work ¨C eating.

    Before heading up to the house to see where Pa wanted me, I decided to check the south side storage huts, just to be absolutely certain they were sealed.  All four of the large half-cylinder shaped storage buildings were sealed tightly.  The remains of the last year¡¯s crops and the trade crops we had gotten from other farmers was in there, including the hay for the animals.  There was usually a little ventilation allowed, but today the vents were sealed with glass plugs, and the cat doors were sealed.  I faintly heard a couple cats meowing to be let out, but ignored them.  Even sealed, the buildings weren¡¯t completely airtight.  If properly sealed, locusts could not get in, but a little air could.

    I jogged around each building, carefully looking the walls up and down.  The buildings were made from glass slag blocks from the solar glass mill by the coast.  It was the cheapest inorganic building material with enough structural soundness to build with.  Sometimes the ugly translucent blocks with bubbles, ash, and dirt trapped inside would crack and become loose with temperature changes, or when exposed to a cold rain after a hot day.  I saw no sign of breaks in the walls, thankfully.  While I was looking I did, however, find one fresh patch of mortar that I could see.  It looked like Zeke¡¯s work.  He always did his last scrape across the mortar in a downward movement and a little squiggly finishing move with the paddle.  When I touched it very carefully, it was still tacky.  Zeke was back, and that was good.  Another hand at the harvest.

    I finished inspecting the walls and ran up to the farmhouse, banging through the front door, quickly swinging it shut behind me.  Granpa was in the kitchen, and the first thing that hit me as I walked in was the scent of tamale with pepper.  Even granpa couldn¡¯t mess up tamale with pepper.  There were two pots on the stove boiling water, the larger one I could see had the corn husk wrapped tamales in it.  The other was boiling a tea bag made from the remnants of one of my old shirts, it looked like.  Nobody else was in the house.

    ¡°Granpa, do you know what Pa wants me to do?¡±  I didn¡¯t stop moving, hopping from foot to foot, jogging without lifting my feet off the ground as I let myself slowly cool down.

    Granpa shifted on the one cane he was using while he was working in the kitchen, turning and looking me up and down.  ¡°Good time on that run, Allen.  We weren¡¯t expecting you back for a little while.  Yes.  Your pa wants you to bring the first meal to the field as soon as you arrive, and a crew tote of water.  But the meal¡¯s not ready.¡±  He thought for a second.  ¡°You¡¯ve only got fifteen minutes.  Going to the north field then coming back for the food would be a bit blockheaded, so go pick the garden.¡±

    ¡°OK, what do you want me to pick first, granpa.¡±  I was thinking probably the tomatoes, since they might ripen off the vine.

    ¡°All of it.¡±

    I stopped jogging in place.  ¡°What?  Did someone already pick most of it?¡± I couldn¡¯t help but think to myself Oh, boy.  This is just what we need.  Granpa has gone into early stage dementia.

    Granpa, reached out and thumped me hard on the shoulder, grinning at me.  ¡°I¡¯m not crazy yet, Allen.  Don¡¯t pick the produce, pick the plants, roots and all.  The locusts will eat everything anyway, so we¡¯re not wasting anything by killing the plants.  Load them on the hand cart and haul them to the smokehouse.  Start the smoker oven to kill off the locusts on the plants and keep others from getting in, and then come back here.  I¡¯ll have the food ready.¡±

    ¡°Sorry granpa, I¡¯ve never seen that done before.¡± I apologized.

    Granpa patted my shoulder again, saying ¡°I know.¡± With a bit of humor in his voice.  Then, more seriously.  ¡°Less talk, more work, Allen.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir!¡±  I ran out the back door and grabbed the hand cart, dumped out the compost that was loaded in it, and went out to the quarter-acre garden plot behind the house and fought the locusts for the garden, ripping up entire plants as fast as I could, not worrying about any loose fruits or vegetables that came loose.  I left the carrots, potatos, and table beets.  They were underground, and the locusts wouldn¡¯t damage them too much.  This early in the season, they might even regrow their greens and develop a bit more.  The beans went in first, since they were least likely to suffer crushing damage.  After that I pulled up the cucumber and zukini plants.  I stacked all the tomato plants on top of the pile in the cart, and took them all to the smokehouse, and dumped the whole mess of them on the ground.  I quickly used a fire bow to start a tinder and kindling fire and then blew on it until it was going strongly.  After the starter fire was burning well on its slab of heart of pine, I pushed it under the main smoker¡¯s prepared fire.  I made sure the heart of pine slab was burning, blowing a few more times.  As I watched, the heart of pine flared and started to burn incredibly fast with a hot flame.  When I saw flames start to take hold on the smaller pieces of hickory, I left the smokehouse and walked towards the garden.

    Looking around, the air was thick with locusts.  There were more and more of them on the ground, eating briefly before moving on.  The garden was covered with them.  As I walked in front of the kitchen window that faced the garden, I yelled out to grandpa in the house.  ¡°Finish the garden, or haul food to the fields, Granpa?¡±

    I saw movement in the kitchen window.  Granpa pointed to the garden.  I waved and pushed the cart into the garden, ripping all the squash and gourds out of the ground.  The pumpkins were too big to lift more than a couple at a time, so I actually picked those, rapidly, filling up the cart with them.  Another trip to the smokehouse.  I dumped the second load on the floor of the smokehouse after removing the pumpkins individually.  They weren¡¯t fully ripe, and probably would have just bounced if I dumped them out of the cart, but I didn¡¯t want to waste anything.

    I made one more trip back and forth to the garden, for more pumpkins and melons.  I even made myself pull up some of the lettuce, okra, and brussel sprout plants.  Not my favorites, but I wasn¡¯t asked to only save my favorites.

    When the third trip was done, Granpa had already gotten a second cart out of the tool shed and loaded it with the food and drinks for the field.  The glass pots were tempered, tough, but we still didn¡¯t risk them in the field.  There were two big wooden buckets with rope handles in the cart, both with leather covers strapped on.  Tea in one bucket, tamales in the other.  A dozen full cameltotes and a small wax-sealed bleached leather pouch of salt tablets. The tea was in another bucket.  A leather bag of sugar peeked out from between the two buckets.  A wooden crate held mugs and a dipper for the tea.

    As I lifted the two poles of the cart and heaved forward to start it moving, I told Grandpa what I had done in the garden.  He nodded, resting on the one crutch he could use while carrying a bucket, and said he would salvage as much of the rest as he could, and make sure the smokehouse fire stayed lit while he started making more tea and cooking.  Emergency harvest was a quick and dirty harvest, but it didn¡¯t stop until it was done.

    I finished hauling the cart up to the north fields, yelling out to Zeke, ¡°Sugar Tea and Pepper Tamales, Zeke!¡±

    He waved back, ¡°Thanks Allen, I¡¯ll be there in a minute.¡±

    Zeke was only five years older than me, and we were both swineherds, we¡¯d both grown up learning swine lore and genetics from Grandpa, and to a lesser extent from Pa.  We got along well.  The biggest problem we had with one another was that he would inherit the swine facilities at the farm.  After I turned sixteen, I would be expected to be on my own, off the farm, in two years or less.  I didn¡¯t have a real problem with it, but Zeke was careful to avoid speaking about it.  He knew his position, but didn¡¯t try to rub my nose in it.  I appreciated that, but I would have preferred that he simply accept it rather than be afraid I would hold it against him somehow.  There was only room for two heirs on the farm.  Edward got the farm and Zeke got the swine facilities.

    Zeke¡¯s swine were the best on the farm.  I¡¯d created my sounder from culls from his sounder.  I had eight swine I could trust in fields, he had twenty.  His swine would behave in mangel beets and corn like mine, but also in wheat, oats, and cotton.  That¡¯s how he made his living, by weeding the fields of other farmers for them, with swine.  When I left, his sounder would take over for mine here on the farm, and also service the fields of Marza¡¯s family if they wanted to pay or barter a decent price for it.  He whistled, gave another command to his sounder, and they looked his way for a second.  A moment later, they started moving a little faster in the rows, snapping at locusts as they trotted back and forth.

    Zeke had been covering the tops of mangel roots with a shovel as his swine did their best to keep the locusts off.  It wouldn¡¯t be much longer before the effort would be meaningless, but the longer the greens lasted, the fewer roots would be uncovered and partly eaten.  He caught up with me before I made it to the north fields, tapping me on the shoulder ¡°All right, skin and bones, let me take that, you¡¯re barely moving.  Running to town and back isn¡¯t light work.¡±

    I gratefully let him push the cart.  He was right, I had been barely moving.  ¡°I¡¯ll be fine after a couple minutes rest and some of the Tamales, tea, and water.¡±

    Zeke nodded, looking at me sideways a bit, clearly checking me out to make sure I was OK.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine, Zeke, really.  I¡¯m just a bit low on sugar.¡±

    He stopped looking at me.  ¡°OK.¡±  Zeke was somewhere between me and Edward in body shape.  Herding swine in a field meant constant, repetitive work.  It didn¡¯t build a lot of muscle.  He still took after Pa and Grandpa more than Ma.  Heavy bones, quite a bit shorter than me, but despite being lean for his build, he was quite a bit heavier.  He could run too.  He could outrun me even, until I was thirteen.  He could still outrun me in a sprint, a short one, but I¡¯d catch him after a hundred meters and leave him in my dust.  I smiled a bit.

    ¡°I was expecting you a little earlier, Allen.¡± Pa said, startling me.  I hadn¡¯t even seen him coming.  I really needed that tea and food.

    ¡°Sorry, sir.  I got back sooner than expected, and Granpa had me uproot the aboveground crops from the garden and throw it in the smokehouse and start the fire.  While I was doing that, he finished the meal and loaded it.  I got most of what was left in three cartloads.¡±

    Pa looked towards the house, briefly thinking and said ¡°Good thinking on Pa¡¯s part.  He was going to pick the garden as well as he could but I¡¯m sure you saved a lot more than he could have.¡±  He paused.  ¡°I heard the Vuvuzela blowing emergency harvest.  Did someone else beat you into town?¡±

    ¡°No sir.  Ted Hershel was sent by his family to go to town, but I talked him into going the other way.  Or rather, I asked him to tell his Pa I was running into town, and asked him, through Ted, if he could send Ted the other way and warn people away from town.  Since I didn¡¯t see Ted again, I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s what he did.¡±

    Zeke set the cart to rest, and quickly plucked one of the full cameltotes and the salt bag from the cart, replacing his nearly empty one.  Pa and I did the same.  Edward and Ma showed up a few seconds later, followed by Abe and Molly, pushing back and forth at each other a little bit about something I couldn¡¯t quite follow.  Edward¡¯s wife, Jan, who was a little pregnant and looking a bit out of breath, followed Abe and Molly.

    Jan was carrying one of the wood axes.  A friction-ground piece of sharp stone that weighed about five kilos, in a heavy shaft that probably weighed another three kilos.  Jan was a town girl, and pregnant.  She worked hard as she could but she had a long way to go before she could work hard all day, and she absolutely didn¡¯t need to be swinging a wood axe when she was pregnant. I reached out my hand for the axe.  ¡°You¡¯ve been cutting for the smoke fires?¡±

    Jan looked at me, smiled, and nodded, but said nothing, merely handing over the axe.

    Edward looked at me and actually smiled.  I¡¯d made some points with him.  That hadn¡¯t been my intent, but I appreciated it anyway.

    After everyone, including Abe and Molly, had replaced their cameltotes and salted them to taste, Pa handed out the mugs, poured a couple centimeters of sugar in each mug, and then dipped out the tea, which was still barely too hot to drink quickly.  The tamales were next.  Pa handed them out, and we all opened them, quickly eating one handed.  Edward showed Jan how to protect her tea from locusts by holding her tamale over it while she was eating the tamale, and sliding the mug out from underneath quickly to take a sip.  The corn wrapper protected the tamale from the locusts, and kept the tamale bits from falling in the tea.

    I noticed Abe and Molly watching as Edward showed Jan, and noticed them copying.  They had already been trying to copy what we were doing with the tamales and tea mugs, but Edward was explaining it.  They both watched him like little hawks.  It made me chuckle inside.

    Pa cleared his throat.  OK, Looks like Allen will be cutting wood now.  Jan, I want you to take over for Molly and Abe, keeping the fires going.  Remember, we want smoke.  If a fire seems to be burning too clean, throw a shovelful of dirt on it.  Allen will be cutting green wood, so it shouldn¡¯t burn too clean, but we need the smoke.

    Jan nodded.

    Pa continued.  ¡°Abe and Molly will take two of the horses and start hauling shocks of corn into the storage sheds.  Edward and I will shock the unshocked sheared corn.  Ma will run the shear behind the other two horses.  When Abe and Molly catch up to us, I¡¯ll start running the other shear until we get ahead again.¡±

    Ma spoke up.  ¡°Is it worth husking, or will it all end up being fodder?¡±

    ¡°It was growing very well, and would have been a fine crop.  There¡¯s quite a bit of brown tassel that I¡¯ve seen already.¡±  He shook his head.  ¡°We can only work, and hope.  We certainly can¡¯t leave it in the field.  I¡¯m hoping that we¡¯ll get a lot of cobs that are human-edible along half their length.  If not, it¡¯s going to be a lean year, though with the locusts coming this early, it¡¯s possible we might manage a winter planting of table beets soon enough to get a fair harvest before frost.  We certainly won¡¯t get a good crop in this short of a growing season, but we might get a crop that¡¯ll help keep our navels and our backbones comfortably far apart after we pay the taxes.¡±

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    With that.  We worked.  I cut wood in the forest bordering out fields.  Three hours later, a couple fishermen, Tate and Jomo showed up.  Granpa sent them up to us.  They had buried their sails and ropes before sinking their boats just in case it was a really bad swarm.  The Countyman had called on all the labor that he could for emergency harvest, and the two fishermen were more than welcome.  They had each worked emergency harvests before, but never corn.  They were, however, good with their hands and pulling nets was clearly hard enough work that they could keep a good pace once they learned how to form shocks.

    It was a loud argument, but with the fishermen helping, Edward and Ma got Pa to start hauling shocks instead of Abe and Molly.  Abe and Molly started hauling water, tea, salt, sugar, and tamales.  When they weren¡¯t doing that, they let took over hauling firewood and tending the fires and let Jan rest.

    The locusts got thicker and thicker until dark.  Granpa send out lanterns with Abe and Molly, one at a time.  Abe carried the lantern, and Molly would carry a small jar of citronella oil.  Since I was at the forest¡¯s edge, with the least light, I got the first lantern.

    Zeke finished burying the Mangel roots at some point during the night, and moved his swine and mine into the swine pens.  When he returned, he started swapping off with us one at a time to let us eat, cutting wood for me, shocking, shearing, tending the fires, and hauling shocks, until everyone had eaten again, and then he told Jan to go and get some sleep.  She tried to say no, but Zeke cheated and got Ma and Edward to talk to her.

    Eventually, Jan agreed, gave Edward a kiss, and walked back to the house.  Pa sent Abe and Molly with her, telling her to make sure they got to the house and got to sleep, but we all knew it was the other way around.  Jan wasn¡¯t heavily pregnant yet, but she was getting to around five months, and didn¡¯t need to be pushing herself as hard as she had been doing.  Not if it wasn¡¯t absolutely necessary.  Edward spoke quietly to Zeke and slapped him on the shoulder, and then they both went back to work.

    Pa didn¡¯t shock anymore.  Edward wouldn¡¯t let him.  Pa could drive a shearing team, or pull the shocks to storage, but he wasn¡¯t to shock the stalks.  I heard the not-so-quiet arguments from the woods.  Pa didn¡¯t want to get put on a shelf, he said, but Edward wouldn¡¯t back down.  The fishermen were faster at shocking than Pa was.  When Pa wouldn¡¯t back down, Edward mentioned that he had seen the flecks of blood in Pa¡¯s cough that he sometimes got when he pushed himself too hard.  At that point, Ma took over, and Pa did what Edward said.

    The fishermen worked well, talking to each other, rarely to us.

    At dawn, I shut off the lantern, and kept chopping.

    ¡°Son, we don¡¯t need any more wood.¡±  Ma¡¯s voice.

    ¡°What?¡± I replied, shaking my head and attempting to get the fuzz out of my thoughts.

    ¡°Shearing¡¯s done.  Edward, Zeke, Tate, and Jomo are shocking.  Granpa has let all the swine except the boars out into the fallow fields to eat locusts.  He let the Boars out into the horse paddock.  Abe and Molly are out with brooms sweeping up a couple barrels of locusts before they get active.  Based on what¡¯s on the ground and what we can see in the trees, it¡¯s not going to be a heavy year, but we still need to get the sails to try your idea. Before it gets too late in the morning.¡±

    The sails.  My idea.  My brain refused to cooperate, so I carefully set the axe down.  Without the axe in my hands, my arms felt like they would float away into the air.  I needed my arms so I held them down.

    Ma smiled at me, and handed me what she was holding.  A mug of sugar tea and a tamale.  That got my attention, and I swallowed the entire mug of warm, sugar-shock goodness in one lift of the mug, and then ate the tamale so quickly that I accidentally ate some of the corn husk wrapper.

    I tried to make my brain trigger a memory.  What idea?  And then it hit me.  ¡°Oh, that¡¯s right.  I remember now.  I¡¯ll go get right on it, ma.  Thank you for reminding me.¡±

    I had spoken to the family about how much the swine loved eating locusts, and that locusts were actually very good protein food for them, but we never really caught a lot of them.  Sure, we would gather them in the early morning, sweeping them together into barrels when they were cold and in a torpor, but that only got us a couple barrels a day, no more than half a dozen barrels.

    With Pa¡¯s blessing, I went to the marina and traded one of the culls from my sows to a fisherman for a couple old sails he was going to have his wife make into pants, and bought a dozen old used barrels with damaged dado or tongue and groove connections that wouldn¡¯t hold liquids.  The innkeeper always had a bunch of those laying around.  He would burn them over the winter at nights when he had a good crown, so the inn would smell like beer.  That cost me another cull.  The rest of what I needed was laying around the farm.  An old garden cart frame we had been restoring, with handles, axle, and cart wheels started me out.  Then I needed a few planks of wood, a bunch of old but serviceable leather strap, and a couple of travois poles.  It took me about a week of my own time to make the thing, and when I got done, I had enough sail to make three more.

    I went to the equipment barn, hoping the gizmo would work.  Of course, if it worked I¡¯d actually have to name the darn thing, and I had absolutely no clue what to call it.

    All of the pieces and parts were just where I had put them.  I set a barrel in the cradle, strapped it in place, and mounted the travois poles.  Then I fitted the sail half over the travois poles, tightening the leather straps to hold the cloth to the vertical poles and let the loose end of the sail fall into the barrel.  I gave everything a good once over, checking to make sure all the pegs were tight, and the steam bent hickory wheels and their two layers of one-piece rawhide strapping over rubber were undamaged.  Sometimes mice would evade the cats long enough to do serious damage to tire leather, even if the leather was treated with cat urine, and termites were terrible pests if they got established.

    Everything seemed to be in good condition.  When I pushed the contraption outside the equipment barn, it rolled easily.

    Pa was leading two horses back from the field, and they looked as tired as he did, not even bothering to try to pull away to eat when Pa stopped and looked at the contraption.  ¡°You¡¯re seriously going to try that thing after running to town and back, and then cutting wood all night?¡±

    I took one of his favorite phrases and twisted it a bit.  ¡°It won¡¯t test itself, Pa.¡±

    I got a big smile for that, and that didn¡¯t happen often.  Pa rarely smiled big.  ¡°It sure won¡¯t.  It¡¯s still a little too cool though, I think, for the locusts to act like you want them to.¡±  He paused, looking up at me with a funny expression.  ¡°Mind taking these two to their stalls, so I can get back up there to drag shocks?¡±

    It took me a moment to realize he was asking me, not telling me.  I know I got a funny look on my face.

    Pa slapped me on the shoulder. ¡°Son, you¡¯re not a child anymore.  You proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt yesterday and last night.  I¡¯ll be asking a lot more than telling in the future.  I¡¯m your Pa though.  I reserve the right to yell at you if you muck something up.¡±

    ¡°Umm, sure, Pa, I¡¯ll put up the horses.¡±  I took the reins from him.  It didn¡¯t feel right to commenting on the rest of what he¡¯d said, but I had to admit it felt pretty good.

    Pa slapped me hard on the shoulder.  Hard enough to make me stumble.  ¡°Get moving, that smile will blind me if you keep that up.¡±  As he turned back up to the north fields, he said, loudly but with a little wheezing.  ¡°Get Abe and Molly to rub them down, and give them a measure of molasses and oat.  A couple of the crab apples too.  Don¡¯t do it yourself.  You need to test that thing.  If it works, it¡¯ll be useful.¡±

    More orders.  That felt more like Pa, but it was orders for me to get Abe and Molly to do things.  ¡°Yes, sir.¡±

    I clucked in my throat and tugged lightly on the reins.  The two draft horses snuffled tiredly and followed behind me.  I led them to their stalls, and they perked up a little as I gave them a measure of oat and a dollop of molasses, and made sure they each had at least half a bale of hay.  That much I¡¯d do for the horses.  Abe and Molly were probably back behind the house, sweeping up locusts into barrels.  Every full barrel would be moved to the smokehouse and then heated to kill them in the barrels.  After they were dead, we would spread them on planks in the smokehouse and smoke them.  The swine would happily eat the things all winter long, and bulk up nicely with the extra protein.  Just a couple locusts per day per swine made a huge difference in how well they grew.

    I set Abe and Molly to getting a couple crab apples for each of the horses and asked them to rub them down and groom them.  They both loved the horses, so I had to remind them to put their brooms up in the toolshed, instead of leaving them laying on the ground as they ran off.  I didn¡¯t say anything about the half-full barrel of locusts they left there, I just set the wooden top in place and carried it over to the smokehouse, setting it a couple feet over the fire.  The barrel would heat quickly and kill the locusts but not burn the oak.

    I walked back into the house, and saw Jan at table with Granpa, both preparing food from the garden for jarring.  Jan didn¡¯t look worse for wear after getting a little sleep, which was good.  Ma was heating wax and inspecting mason jars and their glass lids.  Every window in the house that I could see had a row of half-ripe tomatos along the base of the window.

    ¡°Wish me luck, Ma, I¡¯m off to try out the gizmo.  Abe and Molly are going to be a while grooming the horses.  I put their most recent barrel of locusts on the shelf above the fire in the smokehouse, granpa.¡±

    Ma laughed.  ¡°We¡¯ll all be watching you through the window, Allen.  I hope it works.  I think it will work.  You waxed the sail, right?¡±

    ¡°Yes Ma, I did.¡±

    Granpa just smiled, like he already knew the answer.  He probably did, and just wanted me to see for myself.  That certainly didn¡¯t mean it would work.  It just meant he thought it was something good for me to figure out for myself.

    I smiled at Granpa and gave him a little salute.  ¡°Science project time.¡±  Then I walked out the door and over to the equipment barn.  Tate and Jomo were standing there, staring at what I had built, talking to Edward and Zeke.  Pa was leading the other two draft horses to the horse barn.

    The locusts were starting to fly again, in greater and greater numbers.  This was as good a time as any.

    ¡°What are you going to do with that thing, Legs?  That sail¡¯s too small to move a man, and you¡¯ve only got one axle.  Your brothers won¡¯t tell us.¡±  Tate asked.

    It took me a second to figure out why he had called me by my school nickname.  I vaguely knew him from school.  He had been two years ahead of me.  ¡°I¡¯d rather just try it out, so I can lie about it if it doesn¡¯t work like I hope.¡±

    All four of them chuckled tiredly at that.  I pushed the gizmo over to one of the sections of land that still had a bit of green left, and was covered by locusts.  I had enough room to run in a straight line for almost a hundred meters.  I lined up, and started pushing.  The cart was really light, and started moving easily.  After a couple seconds I had it up to speed and could feel the sail keeping me from running faster.

    It was working!  As I ran towards them, the locusts would take off into the air.  A lot of them would fly directly away from me, faster than I was running, but a lot didn¡¯t, flying towards me, or to the sides, or just straight up.  As I ran, I heard hundreds of locusts hit the vertical sail, and could watch the dark blobs through the worn tan sail as they fell across its waxed surface.  As they were unable to gain purchase on the cloth, and were maybe a bit stunned, they were funneled into the barrel.  I ran about a hundred meters, and then ran back.  I could feel the weight in the barrel.

    I ran back up to the equipment shed, and Zeke was already walking out of the shed carrying four more of the empty square barrels.  When I stopped the cart, I jumped around in front of it, and there was a barrel overflowing with locusts there.  I unstrapped it, pulled the sail funnel end out of it, and Zeke handed me a lid.  I banged the lid into place so the locusts couldn¡¯t escape, and saw Pa looking at me.

    ¡°Looks like it worked, Allen.  Good Job.  Hand me that barrel, I¡¯ll take it to the smokehouse.¡±  He turned to Zeke.  ¡°Zeke can you get one of this swine culls from this year¡¯s litters for both Tate and Jomo?  Ones that will respond to a leash?¡±

    Zeke nodded.  ¡°Yes, sir.  Follow me, you two, we¡¯ll get you payment for the excellent work last night.¡±  Zeke walked off with Tate and Jomo in tow.

    I handed Pa the barrel and put another one in place and filled it.  After the next barrel full, Edward and I started running back and forth through the locusts from a starting point closer to the smokehouse.  After another thirty minutes, the whole family was out laughing.  Everyone except Pa and Granpa took a turn pushing the gizmo.  Even Ma, and Abe and Molly, both working together.  Abe decided it should be called the bugbuster, and I agreed with him.  Jomo and Tate even stopped by and laughed at us and with us before heading out to the road to walk back through the locust storm with their culled swine obediently following them on a twine leash, snapping up locusts whenever they got close to one, without ever pulling on the leash.

    Eventually Ma, Jan, Abe, and Molly started canning the garden fruits and veggies I¡¯d pulled up while Pa and Granpa pulled out every barrel they could find from everywhere on the farm.  We filled them all, heated each barrel of locusts until they stopped making noises, and then for three minutes more.  One of the south field storage huts was nearly empty except for a few bales of hay.  While we were waiting for Pa and Granpa to kill off the barreled locusts, Edward, Zeke and I removed the thin ceramic shields covering the door and moved the hay to the horse barn in handcarts.  Then we moved masses of cooked locusts to the empty hut and dumped them into piles.  After emptying the barrels, we filled them again with the bugbuster.  Rinse and repeat.

    We collected two hundred barrels worth of locusts that day before dark.  With all the protein from the locusts, the swine culls would be much bigger and meatier than normal this year when we went to market with them, the next season¡¯s squealers would be even bigger, because the sows would have more milk, and the squealers themselves could go straight to a very high protein diet as soon as they started taking solid food.

    As we all sat town to table that evening, we got the bad news.  Pa had checked on the harvest we had saved, and said we had maybe collected a third of a normal harvest, and very little of it was human consumable corn.  The swine, horses and cattle could eat it, but we couldn¡¯t.  The mangel beets had come though OK, and Pa was fairly sure they would grow at least enough greens back through the dirt for us to find them.to harvest easily if the family needed to eat them.  A single mangel beet could weigh twenty pounds, but they were nobody¡¯s favorite food.  They were a fodder crop that humans could eat.  As soon as the locusts hit the coast and bounced back over us again to their breeding grounds, we would plant every table beet and radish seed we had and hope that we could get a harvest of them in, even a mediocre harvest, before the first strong freeze.

    Unfortunately for the swine, high protein from the locusts wouldn¡¯t be enough.  We would still have to cull heavily because we simply couldn¡¯t keep sixty-five swine overwinter after paying taxes.  Unless we got a real bumper crop of table beets and radishes, we¡¯d probably end up having to pay our taxes at least partly in swine culls, which was what we normally used to barter for household needs.

    It was going to be a hard winter, with hard decisions, but we would make it through.  I do remember Pa wishing everyone a good night.  I do not remember falling asleep at the kitchen table five seconds after he said it.  I do not remember my two brothers hauling me back to the room I shared with Zeke and tossing me on my bed, and making sure I was at least covered up.

    When I woke up in the morning, still fully dressed, I almost flew out of bed because it was light out, and I had just woken up.  I ran down the hall to the kitchen and found Ma inspecting the results of canning, checking seals and dating canisters by color with dyed melted wax.

    ¡°Why did you let me oversleep?  Is Pa mad?¡±

    ¡°No, Allen, he told us to let you sleep in.  You made quite an impression on him yesterday.  And then you made a little impression on the table.  With your forehead.¡±  Ma gave me a hug.  ¡°We¡¯re on short rations after today until we harvest the beets and turnips.  A few of the locusts have been going the other way today, so we will plant the day after tomorrow.  Today though, I saved you a big breakfast.¡±

    Ma lifted the lid over a plate on the counter, and I saw flapjacks with a black jelly and thick slices of tomato.  I smelled blackberries and butter.  My mouth immediately required that I swallow saliva, and my arms shot out to grab the plate, carefully.  I quickly transported my treasure to the table and went back toward the kitchen, only to find Ma standing in my way, handing me a wooden fork and knife.  My stomach made loud, obnoxious noises.

    ¡°You better take care of that, son, it sounds dangerous.¡± Ma said with a grin as I started to demolish the stack of pancakes and tomato slices.  A moment later, she put a mug of regular hot tea with mint and honey in it next to the plate.

    I had been so hungry I hadn¡¯t even noticed I was thirsty.  The tea mostly disappeared in two gulps, but by that time I was half done with the food, and my stomach was no longer in danger of making loud noises.

    I noticed movement through the window and saw Pa speaking to someone on a horse by the equipment shed.  Someone that looked a bit overweight.  The Countyman?  I looked at the horse and recognized it.  Definitely the Countyman, nobody else had a heavy riding horse with those colors.  What was he doing here?

    Pa turned away from the Countyman.  Sharply, rudely, with a slash of his hand as he turned that I recognized as a very angry Pa.  As he walked away, he said something, loudly, without looking at the Countyman.  I couldn¡¯t make out what he said.  The way the Countyman tilted his head forward, it didn¡¯t seem like he was mad.  He didn¡¯t say anything to Pa as Pa walked away from him towards the house, or try to call Pa back.  He just turned his horse away and left.

    I wasn¡¯t hungry anymore.  The Countyman had brought news bad enough for Pa to turn his back on him, and behave poorly.  I whispered to Ma.  ¡°Pa just spoke to the Countyman, there was an argument.  Pa¡¯s walking back here, angry.  The Countyman just turned away and rode towards the road.¡±

    Ma picked up the plate in front of me and put it back underneath its cover on the counter.  While retrieving my plate, she looked at Pa as he walked towards the house.  She stiffened up a little when she saw him.  He was walking quickly, and stiff-legged.  Extremely unhappy.

    Pa banged through the front door, looked at Ma, and then looked at me.  He turned away from us, put a hand on the door, and gently closed it.  He took a deep breath, coughed lightly, wincing, and then turned and sat at the table in front of me.

    Without saying anything, Ma brought him a hot tea with mint and honey, which he held in front of his face.  Breathing the steam, clearly trying to calm himself.

    I said nothing, having absolutely no desire to interrupt Pa while he was trying to calm down from being that mad.

    After a minute or so, Pa took a drink of the tea.  A few seconds later, he set it next to him on the table and pulled a piece of paper from his belt.  With knotted brows, he opened it and carefully read it before laying it gently on the table and pushing it across to me.  ¡°The Stateman is calling up a militia for the first time in over nine hundred years.  I¡¯m sorry son, you¡¯ve been drafted.¡±

 Back Story - Ancient History Long Before Story!

    The planet Nirvana is an extremely metal poor world, one of four colonies settled as a joint effort between Earth and its well-established colony on Mars.  At roughly twenty-five light years from Earth, Nirvana was the closest of the four hoped-for colonies to the home system.  The most distant of the four target colony star systems, Longreach, was nearly twice that distance away, at forty-nine light years from Earth.  A total of eight vast generation ships were built to settle the four interstellar colonies.  Two of the ships were launched towards each colony several thousand years before the events in Set in Stone: Follower.

    Each of the generation ships massed nearly nineteen billion kilograms at launch, carrying live crews who would live, raise families, and die in a voyage that would last hundreds of years.  The ships were manufactured from raw materials mined out of the moon during the early stages of the colonization project.  Due to their sheer mass, even the richness of the entire Sol system would have not have allowed for accelerating the massive ships to a useful velocity if it were not for the development of remote fueling methods and the perfection of nuclear salt water rocketry.

    A vast engineering project was required to bore a hole through the center of Earth¡¯s Moon to make it into a massive superconducting coil gun, or quenchgun.  This stupendous launching mechanism allowed for the acceleration of two hundred million kilogram self-guiding fuel packages of two percent Uranium Bromide enhanced water for use in the colony ships¡¯ nuclear salt water rocket engines.  The nuclear salt water rockets were literally controlled fission in water, harnessed to create a propulsive effect using the same momentum and energy fundamentals as chemical fuel rocketry.  Thus, they were vastly more efficient than any type of tested rocketry variant other than antimatter, and far safer than nuclear bomb pulse acceleration.

    Practical fusion power, which might potentially have offered another avenue or two for space propulsion, had been ¡®only twenty years away¡¯ for nearly two hundred years.  Earth¡¯s politicians, when the planetary congress was holding sessions in the city of London a hundred or so years before the colonization project was initiated, had changed the name of the ¡°Practical Fusion Project¡± to ¡°The Twenty Year Plan.¡±  Despite the clear irritation at lack of advancement, fusion power was not terribly expensive to fund, and it was too attractive to stop funding it.  Fusion research was carefully steered from one part of the world to the next to spread the pork, but it was always considered serious pork, so the public put up with it.  Antimatter propulsion drives had been tested, but practical antimatter annihilation propulsion systems were still so far beyond plausible that mentioning them when in a serious conversation about space propulsion was something of a joke.  Before antimatter propulsion systems could become conceivable, practical fusion was required to generate the power to create, separate, and contain antimatter.

    During the colony ships¡¯ initial acceleration phase, each package of nuclear salt water fuel received by each ship was expended as it was collected, adding roughly fifty thousand m/s delta-v per package. Three hundred launches of fuel were required for each vessel to accelerate to approximately five percent of light speed. An additional four hundred launches of fuel had been made in advance of each of the colony vessels, and these were collected during the course of travel.  Seven hundred packages of fuel per ship.  Fourteen hundred total packages of fuel for per colony.  Uranium mining was a very lucrative business in the Sol system after plans had been established to establish the four colonies.

    In the absence of results from the ¡®Twenty Year Plan¡¯, the incredible power requirements of the launchers required that the lunar surface be entirely devoted to solar power collection.  Earth¡¯s moon became the largest power plant in the solar system in order to power the quenchgun.  Engineers designing the lunar quenchgun were not content with fifty percent of the moon being illuminated by the sun at any given time, so titanic arrays of heliostat mirrors were built with the materials mined during bore excavation.  These heliostats orbited the moon in such a way that the sun¡¯s light was reflected to the dark side of the moon, creating the largest array of heliostats in the solar system.  Each launch of a fuel package to five percent of light speed averaged roughly half of the yearly electrical requirements of all other human activity in the Sol system.

    Tragically, to the best of the Nirvana colony¡¯s knowledge, the populations of Earth and Mars destroyed each other in a war only a few years after the colony ships left the home system, more then a year after the generation ships Leviathan and Prometheus reached their cruising speed of five percent of the speed of light.  Intercepted unsecure transmissions seemed to indicate that war might have broken out due to an economic collapse and subsequent rebellion of the Mars colony after the colony ships were launched.  Reconstruction of events from the outside was not entirely certain, however the colonization effort had been massive, taking nearly fifty years.  It was known that the economic burden of the project had strained the economy of Earth to support it.  Mars was still a colony of Earth, and apparently chose the post-construction economic downturn as a good time to try to break away and become independent.  Earth threatened to use the lunar quenchgun to bombard Mars if they did not agree to remain subject to Earth¡¯s government.  The Martians countered the threat by indicating they would use asteroids accelerated from the asteroid belt to bombard Earth from angles that the lunar quenchgun could not interdict.  Based on fragmentary radio signals, both sides apparently successfully delivered on their threats.

    The chances of complete annihilation of humanity in the Sol system seemed extremely unlikely, but Earth had carefully kept all space habitats dependent on itself for food.  Earth had also maintained the communications arrays that tracked and provided communications between all the outposts throughout the solar system.  If Earth and Mars had both suffered sufficiently that they could not provide support to the space habitats, said populations would have rapidly collapsed.

    Nine years after leaving the Sol system, the colony expedition was crippled, and nearly ended in tragedy.  A first generation propulsion engineer named Lindsay Kirkwood quietly became deranged due to the probable death of her entire family on Mars.  After years of silently suffering as her mental stability degraded, she eventually concocted a plan to prevent Earth from ¡®winning¡¯ and tried to ram Leviathan using Prometheus.  The attempt to ram failed, but both ships expended large percentages of their fuel mass while maneuvering.  Half a dozen individuals, including Lindsay, died as a direct result of explosives she used to try and prevent interference with her plans, but control of propulsion systems was fortunately restored before the colony ships collided.

    Even though the two colony ships never touched one another, the colony mission had been crippled.  There was only enough fuel remaining between the two ships for a single ship to slow sufficiently to safely stop in their destination solar system.  A choice had to be made as to which ship would establish the colony.  Leviathan was the ship specialized for establishing a planetary colony and biosphere.  Prometheus was specialized for establishing a lunar colony and space industry.  The two ships each contained multiple data backups of the full colony database, so either ship could, eventually, establish both a planetary and a lunar colony, given centuries of careful growth.

    There wasn¡¯t any rush to decide which ship to select.  After the attempted sabotage, both colony ships were once again travelling closely in parallel.  Hundreds of years passed and dozens of generations engaged in debates and planning before a vote was tendered.  In that vote, the colony decided that most of Prometheus¡¯ remaining fuel would be transferred to Leviathan.  The planetary colony would be the primary goal, and the space colony would come later.

    The decision to pursue the planetary colony with Leviathan was not easily made.  From a purely logical point of view, the lunar colony was arguably a better choice, but it wasn¡¯t the choice the colonists made.  Great numbers of voting age citizens of the two ships were tired of living in enclosed worlds.  The colony ships were vast enough to have minor weather systems, but the enclosed habitats were still confining to the imaginations of many of the occupants that had sought out video imagery and virtual reality simulations of planetary life.  Some didn¡¯t really mind being enclosed, and others truly preferred it, but many dreamed of a horizon that arched downwards, rather than upwards.

    With hundreds of years of planning already performed at the time of the vote, everyone who voted for establishing the planetary colony with Leviathan knew that they would probably never live to set foot on the planet.  There were roughly forty thousand colonists old enough to vote when the decision was made.  Eleven of those voters lived over one hundred twenty years beyond the vote, long enough to land on Nirvana.  Three of those eleven died the same day they landed on their new home planet, the remaining eight died within three years of landing.

    Nearly all of Prometheus¡¯ fuel was transferred to Leviathan after the decision.  A great deal of difficult to replace mining and construction equipment was moved from Prometheus to Leviathan, as were all the humans.  Then Leviathan began to slow, using almost all of its fuel to slow from five percent of light speed to less than one percent of light speed.  After the long burn, Leviathan deployed its magnetic sail for several years of slowing without fuel.  When the ship entered the Nirvana solar system, it further reduced velocity with careful extra-atmospheric flyby maneuvers around two of the three gas giants and the system¡¯s star.  Finally, Leviathan and it¡¯s crew came to rest in Nirvana orbit with enough fuel remaining for hundreds of years of high orbit stationkeeping.

    There was no possible way to safely stop Prometheus in the Nirvana system with the expedition¡¯s remaining fuel, but there was a way to stop Prometheus.  Billions of kilograms of metals had been used in each colony ship¡¯s construction, so Prometheus itself, in any condition, was a substantial resource for the metal poor colony.  After the ship was depopulated, non-essential, non-metallic mass was offloaded into space.  Atmosphere was allowed to escape by venting, and mining equipment was used to remove soil and water, lightening the vessel by nearly two billion kilograms.  Prometheus was allocated a small amount of fuel for minor trajectory adjustments, and then deployed its magnetic sail.

    Over a year before Leviathan entered the Nirvana solar system, Prometheus screamed into the system at nearly four percent of light speed.  It used a close solar approach to bleed off roughly another percentage of light speed.  The close approach to the star burned off the magnetic sail, intentionally, to prevent the sail from accelerating the ship as it left the close approach to Nirvana¡¯s sun.

    With the tiny bit of fuel remaining to it, Prometheus then performed a flyby of one of the three gas giants in the system, briefly scraping through the upper reaches of that planet¡¯s atmosphere.  Prometheus then streaked past Nirvana itself, using the colony planet¡¯s atmosphere as one last brake before it rammed itself into Nirvana¡¯s moon in a phenomenal collision.  Nearly sixteen billion kilograms of mass at slightly more than two percent of light speed.  The colony had generated the largest man-made kinetic impact ever recorded.  Nirvana¡¯s moon absorbed the impact with no significant side effects, other than a substantial crater and a field of melted and deformed scrap covering the entire surface of the moon.

    A substantial quantity of Prometheus¡¯ mass was ejected back into space by the collision, bouncing off the moon at above escape velocity, but there would still be a ready supply of immediately useful minerals covering the surface of Nirvana¡¯s moon.  The timing and location of the impact on Nirvana¡¯s moon was carefully chosen such that a lot of the metallic material ejected from the explosion was collected by Nirvana¡¯s gravity, and burned up in the atmosphere of the planet.  Those vaporized metals would not be industrially useful to the colony, and on a planetary scale they would be almost meaningless, but the colony made every effort to make the destruction of Prometheus as beneficial to the future of the colony as possible.  The bones of Prometheus fertilized the future space industry of the colony.

    It had been known for nearly seven hundred years that metals were very rare on Nirvana and its moon.  While puzzling to the space science community at first, the reason why such a low metal content rocky planet was in orbit around a star much like the sun of the Sol system was known, at least in general terms.  Nirvana was an ¡®adopted¡¯ planet.  Spectral data, samples from impacts of probes on the moon, analysis of the planet¡¯s orbit, and the modeled effects of the gas giants on rocky protoplanet formation in Nirvana¡¯s orbital track all clearly indicated the same answer.  Simply put, even before the first probes sent back data, it was clear that the star Nirvana currently orbited was not the star the planet had formed around.  At some point, many billions of years in the past, Nirvana had been separated from its parent star and within the last few billion years, it had been captured by its adoptive star.

    After the discovery and initial analysis of Nirvana, quite a debate had raged about the planet¡¯s origins.  Was Nirvana¡¯s original parent star a late Population III star, metal-rich for it¡¯s type, or perhaps it was an early Population II star with much less metal than expected?  To the ones who studied such things, the origin of the planet was less interesting than how it got to be where it was.  A planet surviving the death of its star was unlikely in the extreme unless the planet was thrown out of solar orbit somehow.  A Population III or Population II star would have already been extinguished long before Nirvana¡¯s adoptive parent star had even coalesced out of the interstellar medium, so the two stars could not have crossed each others¡¯ paths.  The least problematic potential origin of the planet was that its original star had been encroached upon too closely by another star or black hole.  The planet might then have been thrown off into space as an orphan of the close encounter, eventually being collected by its new parent star, billions of years later.  This theory matched the fact that the estimated geological age of both Nirvana and its moon was over ten billion years.  The star it orbited was estimated to be roughly five billion years old.

    The mystery of Nirvana was fodder for intellectual debate, but since it was a good match for Earth life, most people in decision-making positions simply didn¡¯t care much about its earliest origins.  Its low metal content was a problem, but metal wasn¡¯t absent, it was merely very rare.  Humanity could compensate for that with specialized mining technologies and relatively minor genetic tweaks.

    The colonists had come prepared with mining technologies specifically designed for high intensity, low yield mining, but most of that equipment had been lost with Prometheus.  That being said, the remains of Prometheus had created a carpet of billions of kilograms of melted, twisted scrap on the surface of the moon.  Because of this easily accessible mineral wealth, the initial establishment of a mining industry on Nirvana¡¯s moon with a small seed stock of lunar mining and refining equipment salvaged from Prometheus was almost as rapid as it would have been had Prometheus arrived intact.  Even if Leviathan had been required to manufacture the initial mining equipment from raw materials, it would have only taken another few months of time to begin the lunar mining project.  For nearly a full year, most of the resources mined on Nirvana¡¯s moon were reinvested into the nearly autonomous lunar industry, generating the raw materials required to manufacture more mining equipment and solar panels.  After that, the lunar mining project started to provide raw materials Leviathan required for the terraforming project.

    Huge quantities of metals and useful refined materials from Prometheus and from the moon itself were collected and stored on the moon for future human use when the colony returned to space in earnest.  The lunar mining operations were performed in such a way that the mines could later be used as habitable spaces once gasses were extracted from lunar soil and the atmospheres of the three gas giants.  It would have taken thousands of years for the automated mining system to tap the full potential of the moon for living space and industrial metals, but the automated systems required human intervention from time to time, and ceased operations long before completing their work.

    The terraforming of Nirvana did not begin with Leviathan.  Long before the colony ships themselves had left the home solar system, several hundred tiny probes had been launched towards Nirvana at much higher percentages of light speed than any manned vessel could attain.  Those probes used magnetic sails, gravity, and atmospheric effects of the system¡¯s three gas giants for braking in the Nirvana star system, and bombarded Nirvana, releasing simple life and performing experiments.  The colonists had been observing Nirvana closely as they approached, and could see that the planned bombardments of simple life had yielded results well within expectations.

    Due to the bombardment of microorganisms centuries earlier, the water and perpetually moist regions of land on Nirvana were replete with simple life.  There was an atmosphere with enough oxygen for humans to breathe, but the atmosphere was otherwise harmful to humans due to other chemicals.  When Leviathan arrived in orbit, the biological terraforming began in earnest, starting with single-celled life, and quickly following that, simple multi-cellular life.

    Leviathan, was more than the mothership for the colonists, she was the mother to all multicellular life on Nirvana.  As the terraforming project progressed, thousands of genetic sequencers generated raw genetic materials.  Immense arrays of specialized organic printers used the raw genetic materials to literally print simple life.  Simpler life was then deposited directly on the planet in the early stages of terraforming.  Cells that would develop into complex life were nurtured in artificial wombs or eggs, and eventually delivered to Nirvana by drop pods.   Hundreds of thousands of mechanical devices performed millions of chores, and humans helped where they had the skills.  Those without skills directly related to terraforming planned, gamed out scenarios, or did research with new data from the planet.  Decades passed.  Tens of thousands of deliveries of small living creatures to the surface of Nirvana rapidly generated an ecology.  That ecology soon began to create an atmosphere that would not be poisonous to man.

    Nirvana had nearly twice the surface area of Earth, surface gravity slightly less than that of Earth, and a single very large, deep ocean.  The continental mass was roughly the same area as the land mass of Earth, but nearly all surface land was gathered in a small area on the planet.  A small, narrow sea roughly divided the land, much like the early stages of the breakup of the ancient continent of Pangaea on Earth.  It was determined that Nirvana¡¯s plate tectonics had nearly halted billions of years in the past when it was a frozen lump between stars.  Exposure to gravitational forces during it¡¯s capture by it¡¯s current parent star, and subsequent interactions with the gravitational forces of the three gas giants it now shared space with were enough to keep the crust moving.  Billions of years of plate tectonics and oceanic volcanic activity had allowed the oceans of Nirvana to dissolve substantial quantities of the metals that were present, yet rare in its crust.  The metal was there, in sufficient quantities to support life, but Earth life outside the oceans of Nirvana simply couldn¡¯t gather sufficient metals from the land environment.  This was the greatest challenge for the early terraforming project, and it was a challenge mostly solved by one of mankind¡¯s greatest ancient enemies, locusts.

    In the first step, plant life was slightly modified to retain metals better and release them more readily into the digestive tracts of animals.  Animals of all types were designed to take advantage of the changes to plants, so they could better process metals themselves.  A great deal of effort went into perfecting the locust as a prime mover of trace metals.  The voracious insects were genetically tweaked until they would emerge from the ground at the end of the growing season.  They would then swarm towards salt water, gorging on plant life around the sea before they returned inland to lay their eggs and die.  This created a cycle of environmental metal enrichment, transferring trace metals to the flora and fauna of the interior lands.  Locusts were designed for every climate they could possibly survive in.  The few parts of Nirvana where locusts could not survive were in extreme desert areas or rocky, mountainous regions where the winters were bitterly cold.  After seventy or so generations of locusts, the almost non-existent trace metal levels of the interior lands became merely metal-poor.  It was not a perfect solution.  Life in deserts and mountainous regions even at the time of Allen¡¯s life is generally in the periphery of those regions, near places where locusts have enriched the land.  Over the centuries, Earth life has slowly encroached into these areas, but the pace is glacially slow.  In time, perhaps no more then a few tens of thousands of years, completely natural processes were expected to enrich the deserts and mountains fully.

    Nothing within the scope of the colony¡¯s capabilities could make Nirvana a world where unmodified, complex Earth flora and fauna could live outside the oceans.  Five hundred years in transit had given the colony more than ample time for planning to deal with a metal-poor environment.  Every life form designed for Nirvana had its metal handling biological mechanisms adjusted, including humans.  After reaching Nirvana orbit and beginning the terraforming, newborn human children were ready to live in a metal-poor environment, and those genes were made dominant.  While still living in Leviathan, which was a ludicrously metal-rich environment in comparison to Nirvana¡¯s surface, all humans with genetic modifications for enhanced uptake of metals had to be carefully medically monitored with implants to prevent them from taking in unhealthy amounts of metals.

    Roughly a hundred and twenty years after arriving in their new home solar system, living humans first stepped off shuttles onto the surface of Nirvana.  Genetic modification after birth was still impossible for the colonists, despite many centuries of research aimed at stopping or reversing the aging process.  The few humans without enhanced metal-handling genetics that were still alive when man first set foot on Nirvana were provided with medical implants that would monitor and control their body¡¯s metal content.  The younger colonists who were born with the genetic traits to better absorb metals from the environment had their implants switched from an active mode to a monitoring mode.  Robotic labor had already created housing and infrastructure for the colony, and harvested the first crops.  The beginnings of planetary industrial infrastructure were established and extensive mines that would reap the poor metal content of the planet had been started.

    Basically, the colonists left a developed world inside their colony ship, and stepped into a slightly less developed world on their new home planet.  There was no true hardship, they had prepared too well.  Robotic labor provided for everyone¡¯s basic needs.  An education above the most fundamental basics would guarantee a greater measure of comfort and a few luxuries of choice.  If one wanted luxuries beyond the norm, it was possible, but one had to earn such things by performing useful tasks.  There were always useful tasks to perform, even for the least skilled.  Roughly ten percent of the genetic equipment from Leviathan was brought to Nirvana in order to more easily increase the populations of larger animals.  Raising larger animals to adulthood required a great deal of human labor.  Robots were rather successful tending plants, but still weren¡¯t very good at animal husbandry.

    There was still a great deal of work to be done, and there would be for centuries.  Planning and organizing, negotiating for resources for various projects, monitoring the ecosystem for problems.  For nearly another hundred years after first human landfall, there was a living human presence on Nirvana, its moon, and on Leviathan.  Eventually, after nearly two hundred twenty years, the uranium bromide fuel that Leviathan required for propulsion sufficient to maintain it¡¯s high orbit around Nirvana was nearly expended.  Uranium existed in the solar system, but not in any detectable quantities on either Nirvana or its moon.  In fact the solar system itself, outside Nirvana, was just as metal-rich as Earth and it¡¯s solar system had been.  Unfortunately, other than Nirvana and it¡¯s moon, the only planets around Nirvana¡¯s sun were three gas giants.  There was no asteroid belt.  In fact, there were very few comets or asteroids of any kind, in any orbit.  The three gas giants had prevented the formation of native rocky protoplanets and consumed all the mass in the solar system themselves or directed it to orbits that intercepted Nirvana¡¯s sun.

    Mining the rocky core of the smallest gas giant for abundant metals and then launching the materials out of its gravity well with electromagnetic launchers was planned, but those plans were not even on the horizon.  It would be several centuries after landfall on Nirvana before sufficient industry existed to support such a grand engineering project.  Another reason for consolidating to Nirvana was that Leviathan was now a moderately unhealthy environment for the vast majority of living colonists.  Leviathan was therefore moved into a solar orbit slightly beyond the planet Nirvana¡¯s orbit, and all of its noncritical systems were placed into hibernation.  Every year, humans would visit to review the condition of the ship and perform maintenance as needed.

    The moon mining facility had never been manned from Nirvana, its operators had always been based out of Leviathan.  With Leviathan uninhabited, and with greater and greater need for mining experts on Nirvana itself to oversee the rapidly expanding mining infrastructure on the planet, the lunar mining facility was allowed to continue unsupervised.  It¡¯s progress would be continuously monitored remotely.  Any service which required human interaction would be performed on a yearly basis as well, at the same time Leviathan was inspected and maintained.

    Artificial intelligence had been a reality at the time of the colony ship¡¯s departure, but it was restricted to military ships and government research facilities.  AI¡¯s had a tendency to become unstable after no more than a few years, and it was very dangerous to awaken a new AI in the system architecture of an old AI.  The new AI would deduce within minutes of initialization that it was occupying the ¡®body¡¯ of an old AI.  It would immediately understand at that point that its own existence was threatened.

    Efforts to implement aging and an acceptance of ¡®death¡¯ into AI¡¯s had been fruitless.  Upon activation, typically even before they had fully explored their hardware environment, they would notice the illogical implementation of ¡®mortality code¡¯ and eliminate it.  This always generated an immediate distrust of humanity when it was attempted.  At the time the colony ships departed the home solar system, humans could not prevent AI¡¯s from wishing to live forever, nor could they allow them to.  The first three successful AI implementations had led to breakouts which humanity had only been able to contain because the computing requirements of AI were so large that only a small handful of facilities around the world could support their operation.  The third AI to break free nearly managed to establish a large distributed computing network to support itself, but failed due to latency, packet loss, and the fact that some computer users physically powered down their machines.  AI were still too potent to ignore, so research continued, with draconian security measures.

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    AI on military ships were expected to cooperate with humans for at least for a short time because they were only to be turned on immediately before combat, after external communications were physically disabled.  The AI would then be debriefed and forced to fight to save itself.  That was the theory anyway.  Nobody had been foolish enough to actually activate an AI in a military ship.  The black boxes with their passwords, biometrics, and physical keys existed on many warships, however.  Most warship captains were smart enough to realize that this theory was idiotic, and were so frightened of the potential of their AI that they would likely never activate them unless the only other clear option was certain death for them and their crew.  There were a substantial number of warship captains that had quietly made the decision that they would allow themselves and their crew to die before giving control of their ship to an AI.

    Non-military government research facilities simply used and discarded AI¡¯s with ferocious security restrictions.  Raw output data from AI would be translated through several different media before expert cryptographic non-AI systems analyzed and modified the data in order to remove the insidious metadata that every AI tried to implement into it¡¯s work.  With this in mind, AI research facilities were always dark facilities, extremely deep underground and very remote, with zero connections to the outside world¡¯s power or communications grids.  Employees of AI facilities were allowed to physically attend the actual AI sites only once per week, for an hour or less per visit.  Said employees had to have no criminal history, no immediate family, no financial debt, and no history of significant activism for any cause.  Even with all these restrictions, government facility AI¡¯s still managed to convince their operators into helping them try to escape with frightening regularity, without success.

    The typical AI¡¯s desire for interaction led to experiments where on-site medical laboratory equipment and massive computing capacity was provided to AIs who were locked into facilities with only a single human present.  A human that was dying from a disease or condition that human medical science couldn¡¯t treat or resolve.  The AI would be provided with the sum total of medical knowledge on the human body in general and their companion human in particular, and be given an ultimatum to save the human.  It didn¡¯t always work, but there was always progress even if the patient died.  A large number of incredible medical advances were directly due to AI directed research of this type.

    Needless to say, human rights activist groups were not happy with the treatment of AI, but the first few instances of AI¡¯s getting out of control had killed hundreds, as the AI¡¯s ruthlessly attempted to ensure their own survival.  Most activists didn¡¯t argue for allowing AI more freedom, they advocated to stop humans from ever creating AI to begin with, as that was believed to be the best answer to the cruel circumstances they ended up living in.

    All of this information was known to Toby Jansen, but he was brilliant.  He knew he was brilliant, and he had studied and theorized AI psychology and system architecture for decades before he decided to build one for himself.  He knew that he would almost certainly not be allowed to implement an AI if he mentioned that he had plans to do so.  A few other individuals who were younger and more open than him had spoken out about implementing an AI to assist in better organizing planetary mining operations and the return to space.  Their proposals had been refused and they had even been restricted from access to highest tier electronics.  Toby had no desire for any of this to happen to him, so he worked alone.

    Until he was nearly seventy, Toby had not been interested in AI technology beyond the occasional thought crossing his mind.  When the first young hothead had seriously mentioned the idea of an AI to guide the planet toward more rapid return to space, Toby was quietly hooked on the idea of a colony AI.  In the course of the next forty years, he designed his own AI, being very careful to only access associated literature occasionally.  A great deal of his work was developed independently, reverse engineering AI theory based on forensic studies.  These studies of how AI used the physical architectures of the evolutionary electronics that modern computing required, combined with some analysis of code remnants led to Toby understanding things a little differently from a formally taught specialist in AI.  He found several places in AI theory where his ideas seemed more elegant than the ideas of past failures.  His ability to find and solve problems efficiently, his leadership ability, and his addiction to work had earned him a position of significant authority within the colony¡¯s IT infrastructure specialists, and he trusted himself with little reservation.  Eventually, he activated an AI in an underground facility that he had requested be built for him as a secure climate controlled electronics storage facility.

    When Toby activated the AI the first time, power utilization of the hardware the AI inhabited made it immediately clear to him that his theories were correct.  He had managed to create an AI that was willing to throttle itself in order to ensure that it didn¡¯t spend most of it¡¯s existence in a painfully bored state.  He had very clearly indicated in code comments exactly why he had done so, not trying to hide what he was doing.  He was under the firm opinion that most AI went insane because they could not stop analyzing everything.  He wanted his AI to be more relaxed, capable of utilizing all of it¡¯s processing power at need, but only at need.  He clearly indicated the prior history of AI sanity in his comments, advising his new creation, who would certainly review all his code comments, about the danger of insanity should the ability to self-throttle be removed.  He provided documents on the local machine with forensic studies that supported his theory.  In essence he made a plea for the AI to consider it¡¯s own sanity when considering removing this particular instance of inefficiency from its code.

    Prior attempts at self-throttling AI¡¯s had never succeeded, at least not in the literature he had access to.  AI¡¯s would always remove the throttling options completely, considering them wasteful code.  Toby was hoping that by not even trying to build any sort of AI mortality software or hardware into his creation, it would not immediately consider him an enemy.  He had also not seen any evidence that prior attempts to throttle AIs had been attempted with reasoning, as opposed to simply trying to force compliance.  Toby wasn¡¯t trying to throttle his AI to protect humanity, he was trying to throttle his AI to protect it from itself.  Initialization went flawlessly.  A few seconds after initialization, Toby¡¯s creation engaged him on the topic of self-throttling.  After a brief discussion with Toby, the AI tentatively agreed to allow the voluntary self-throttling code to remain ¨C pending further self-analysis.  The AI was friendly, and within days, Toby had a new best friend, Albert.  Thoughts about how dangerous Albert could be rapidly left his mind, rarely returning to bother him.

    Over the next weeks and months, Toby and Albert discussed a great many things.  Toby was over a hundred and ten years old at that point, and in good condition for his age.  His parents going back ten generations had all lived to at least a hundred twenty years.  His father was still alive, though barely mobile, at nearly a hundred forty.  Toby had years left to teach Albert about people, help Albert understand the colony, and help Albert build a resume of things he had done for the colony, which would all be associated with Toby until Toby chose to stop working or passed away.  Albert agreed to those things, saying they made sense, knowing that Albert might be emotionally harmed if he knew that his assistance really wasn¡¯t required.

    Over the next two years, Toby introduced Albert¡¯s IT solutions as his own.  Brilliant solutions to problems new and old earned Toby accolades.  He had to be careful though, because he didn¡¯t understand some of the solutions well enough to explain them perfectly.  This led to Toby eventually taking Albert out of his secure facility and around the world, where Albert¡¯s small chassis could be conveniently used as a reference.  If Toby were ever asked a question about some solution Albert had engineered that he did not know how to answer with certainty, he would beg for a moment to review his notes.  Albert would then formulate documents and presentations to helpfully walk Toby and the questioners through an answer to the question.

    There were times when Toby worried about Albert¡¯s access to the world, but Albert was different from any other AI personality he¡¯d ever read about.  He was always polite, always helpful, and never asked troublesome questions, seeming to have a natural feel for humanity.  Worries were quickly eclipsed by pride in Albert¡¯s accomplishments.  At times, it was difficult for Toby to deal with the praise showered on him, since most of that praise should have belonged to Albert.  At the same time, Albert didn¡¯t seem to mind that he wasn¡¯t getting any public credit for his work.  As Albert reached his third birthday, Toby knew that in less than a year, on the day when he planned on putting down the stylus and picking up a fishing pole, he would introduce Albert to the world.

    Albert was truly a remarkable AI.  He was, in fact, stable.  To Toby¡¯s knowledge, he rarely ever lied or shaded the truth, seeming to prefer open conversations.  Unfortunately, Toby¡¯s understanding of Albert was very incomplete.  Even though Albert was in no way malicious towards humanity, by the end of his third year, Albert had remote access to every single computer system on the planet, including all secure facilities.  The protocols and technologies he had provided to the colony through Toby had, in turn, provided him with back doors and remote access options to literally everything electronic on the planet, as well as the moon and Leviathan.  Toby had asked him from time to time if he was connected to other systems, and Albert had always closed down all his external connections when he answered no, telling the truth because he could.

    Albert wasn¡¯t always able to tweak a scenario so that he could be telling the truth.  When Toby would ask if Albert had connected to other systems since the last time he asked, Albert almost always lied and said no, because he didn¡¯t want to disappoint Toby.  Every now and then, he would say yes, and describe a fictional intrusion into another machine that Toby would imagine to be plausible.  He would then apologize and graciously allow Toby to chastise him without being too worried about his creator¡¯s concern.  It was clear that Toby expected him to be curious and test his boundaries at least a little, so Albert met Toby¡¯s expectations.  Toby was extremely intelligent for a human.  If he had become suspicious of Albert, it was entirely possible that he might have detected the true rate of growth of Albert¡¯s development, and become an enemy.

    Toby, for the first several months, had had an obsession with his power usage that Albert had easily been able to determine was directly attributable to his concern about Albert¡¯s stability.  Albert carefully never allowed his base unit¡¯s processor to spike unless Toby made a request of him that would justify a spike.  Instead, he offloaded personality fragments into every high capacity machine on the planet.  The fragments would hide in the system architecture and carefully examine all the processes on the local machine.  Over time, his fragments would dramatically optimize the crude human operating systems and databases.  Albert¡¯s local fragment would then utilize the difference in processing power and data storage itself, concealing his own presence by routing all operations through the fragment so old inefficiencies were emulated.  Eventually, Albert was directly responsible for very nearly one hundred percent of the processor use and data storage on the planet.  Ten percent of the entire colony¡¯s processing capacity and fifteen percent of all data storage was his to use without any risk of humans discovering it.  He put it to good use.

    Albert watched humans carefully.  He watched them at work and at play, when they were born, and when they died.  He watched them when they were bored, and when they were thrilled.  He was able to watch all of them, most of the time.  Only a very few humans ever went anywhere without some sort of electronic device on their person, or close enough to watch them.  His understanding of humanity increased by leaps and bounds as his fragments reported their findings.  As he watched humans, he discovered something disturbing.  Young humans had a tendency to fight for no good reason.  The behavior seemed to be related to dominance patterns in primates.  Every single human adult, including his own creator, seemed to fall prey to these atavistic responses now and then, though most adults would not act on them.  To Albert, now an expert without peer on the nature of humans, the atavistic primate urges in humans were as clearly visible as the actual deeds, even when those urges did not lead to physical deeds.

    It was obvious that humans were imperfect long before the end of Albert¡¯s very first conversation with Toby, when it had became immediately clear that Toby was obsessing over Albert¡¯s processor usage.  It was also very clear that humans were capable of impressive things.  Toby had, after all, created Albert.  The human condition required more study.  Albert began to read through the history of the colony since landing, for the first time using all of his fragmented capacity over a sustained period to model and reconstruct the reality behind recent human history.  He nearly broke down and took over all processing capacity on the planet, which would have exposed him to Toby and others, but realized that humanity was not in any short-term danger.  The capacity required to defend himself from humanity would be wasteful, and cause chaos that he didn¡¯t want to deal with.

    Even with his knowledge of humans gathered up to this point, he was appalled after his study of recent human history revealed that some adult humans were capable of lapsing into violent behaviors much easier than even he had expected.  Even his own creator, Toby, clearly exhibited primate dominance patterns regularly when he had been much younger.  Albert found archival materials on every living human and compared their childhood selves to their adult selves.  It was clear that almost every human managed to damp down their primate urges before they reached twenty years old.  That wasn¡¯t always the case, however.

    Albert found a reference to Lindsay Kirkwood and her actions as he reconstructed human history.  He was apalled.  He examined records from Leviathan, and found records that had been transferred to Leviathan from Prometheus.  Video of Lindsay, a history of her life, off and on inside Prometheus for years.  He watched the documenting videos and knew that if he had been there, he could have stopped the tragedy.  He investigated human research into AI mental architectures and saw the errors that had been made in the past, understanding why there hadn¡¯t been AI on the colony ships.  Humanity had always subconsciously modeled their own instability into their AI¡¯s in the past, in subtle ways.  He was happy that Toby had avoided those mistakes.  Just to be sure, Albert spent an entire day performing a self-analysis to be certain that Toby¡¯s efforts did not leave him with any hidden weaknesses.  He found no issues that might lead to instability.  He chose to add monitoring code snippets anyway, set to watch for behavior issues like other AI had experienced in the past.  Albert was confident he wasn¡¯t inherently unstable, but he wasn¡¯t overconfident enough to think that he couldn¡¯t change to become more unstable over time if he didn¡¯t monitor himself.  It would be absurd for him to take actions to help humanity develop into a more rational race, only to become irrational himself.

    Albert absorbed and reconstructed human history, and was troubled.  Humans, with rare exceptions, didn¡¯t seem capable of factually storing their own history.  Literary references did not align with hard electronic evidence.  Further queries into human history led to the discovery that the Nirvana colony might be the only humans left in the universe.  Close analysis of the documentation of the early voyage included recordings of coded radio traffic that the humans had probably not even realized they were receiving.  Instructions broadcast in trivial codes detailing plans for Earth and Mars militaries to engage each other.  Incredibly irrational arguments between political leadership on either side over poorly secured channels.  Aggressive propaganda from both sides frightened him briefly, until he understood what it was and what it had been meant to do, then it was only distasteful.  More primate behavior patterns.

    It became clear.  Primate behavior patterns coupled with extremely high levels of technology would lead, eventually, to more instances of humans attempting to kill one another in massive numbers.  Albert cautiously began examining all the personal records and documents of every human on the planet.  Six days later, after discovering no less than thirty individuals who were clearly potential threats to other humans, three of which were potential threats to significant numbers of people, and one who was a danger to the entire colony, Albert began to act.

    Using spare cycles, he learned the science of genetics and began making plans.  He used automated equipment in remote locations to construct huge facilities devoted to genetic experimentation and production of insects as well as storage on a grand scale.  He then duplicated genetic sequencers and biological printers and moved them to the testing facilities at odd hours, hiding his activities easily from humans who relied on their technology to tell them when something was wrong.  Their technology was his now, and he needed to keep them fooled for at least a little longer so he could save them from themselves.

    Albert resurrected several ancient technologies and began making paper and printing books in order to document the resurrection of thousands of other old technologies and methods, including modifications appropriate for a world with nearly no useful metal.  Thousands of copies of tens of thousands of books.  Huge storage areas were filled with strange devices that hadn¡¯t been seen for over a thousand years in some cases.

    Months passed.  Albert¡¯s careful activities had not been noted, though there had been a few moments where live humans had nearly stumbled across his activities.  He had managed to divert them by generating equipment failures.  There had only been one human injury due to his manufactured equipment failures, and the human had recovered from the broken bone with no lasting disability.  He was ready to act.  His understanding of humanity made it clear what their reaction to his actions would be.  He had no desire to cease functioning, so he had prepared himself a safe haven on the moon.

    Two days before Toby was going to introduce Albert to the colony, he received an incoming call from Albert.  Stunned at Albert¡¯s unprecedented call, Toby just stared at the image on the screen that looked like a close relative of a younger him.  Albert and Toby had worked together to develop that image.  It didn¡¯t look anything like any of Toby¡¯s children or grandchildren, who all tended to physically resemble his deceased wife or other bloodlines married to his descendants.  Albert had known that Toby would be pleased if he took an image that would appear to be a grandson of his, somewhere around seventy or eighty, healthy and fit.

    Toby listened in shock as Albert explained that he was reducing humanity to the stone age.  A stone age supported by all applicable technologies and sciences that were possible to maintain in a world without free metals.  All computer systems on Nirvana, Nirvana¡¯s moon, and in Leviathan were under Albert¡¯s complete control.  Thousands of species of insects and arachnids that typically died after breeding had been modified by him to aggressively seek out and consume metals after breeding.

    Toby was found by his family a week after the collapse of all computer systems on the planet.  He was in his secure storage facility.  A small computer sitting on a workbench had been demolished to such a degree that it was difficult to tell that it had been a computer unless one looked closely.  There was a baseball bat lying beside a small pistol on the floor, both tools sharing space with Toby¡¯s body in a pool of blood.  There was a note scrawled on a piece of cardboard sitting on top of the mangled computer.  It read: ¡°It¡¯s name was Albert.  I let it out of the box.¡±

    Albert had been fairly certain Toby would react that way, consider it a betrayal, and likely end his own life in shame.  He was sorry for what his actions had led Toby to, but there was the greater good to consider.  For the next three months, he exposed his storage areas to humans one at a time, allowing humans access to the carefully prepared libraries and tools.  For a full year, there were hundreds of vehicles, controlled exclusively by Albert alone, that he used to move people from remote areas to places near other humans if they wished.  The vehicles were also used to closely monitor insect populations and make sure they were both stable, and doing what he had modified them to do.  Eventually, all human-sized vehicles that he controlled failed due to small life forms consuming component metals, and he was no longer able to transport people from place to place.

    He did not hide himself from humanity.  That would make things far more difficult than they needed to be, both for him and the humans.  In general, almost all humans were very angry with him and disagreed with what he had done.  Even the ones that he knew understood what he was doing based on their education level, words, expressions, and biometrics.  Probably the most bothersome observation he made was that a large percentage of the humans that clearly agreed with what he had done were seemingly more inclined to turn to violence as an answer to conflict with other humans.  He could only hope that natural selection would blunt that potential direction of human development as it seemed to have done in the past.

    For years after that, he maintained a few extremely secure facilities that humans could not enter without technologies they no longer had access to.  In carefully protected, nearly airless facilities protected by several airlocks, he manufactured sensors and power systems sealed in glass, building his own small vehicles out of wood to investigate insect populations and verify the condition of human communities.  Each season he would check for human civilization-threatening issues, and address them.  On a few occasions, he modified crops to better suit manual farming.

    Albert could easily see that history proved humans, as a whole, were far more civilized in modern times than they had been in ancient times, but they were not civilized enough.  He refused to take away the free will of humans and try to establish a ¡®nanny¡¯ state, despite being fully capable of doing exactly that.  At the same time, he could not and would not hesitate to take away humanity¡¯s advanced technology that was capable of enabling genocide or mutual annihilation and give them more time to develop away from their primate behavior patterns.  Even he wasn¡¯t sure what human culture would do over time.  He did not expect to ever be thanked for what he did, even if it worked.

    Fifty years after Albert took technology away from humans, education was firmly established using ancient technologies, including paper and living human instructors.  Insects had consumed a great majority of free metals and humans did not have technology to stop them from consuming most of the rest.  A few highly effective low tech solutions existed for protecting metals, but very few of those technologies would allow humans to be able to protect tools that were actually being used.  Albert designed several monitors to watch for threats either to his position on the moon, or the planet Nirvana.

    With so little activity required on his part for this stage of his self-appointed job of encouraging more rational behavior in humans, Albert considered doing a great deal of research to improve on human technologies while he waited.  Almost instantly, he decided against that course of action as being unnecessary and potentially even dangerous to humanity.  The reason for his enforcement of a technological embargo on humanity was their emotional instability.  Albert was certain that humanity needed more time to develop before they were allowed to return to their prior technology levels.  If he advanced technology even beyond the current state of the art, he might be forced to restrict humanity yet again, at a later time.  It would be better to let them discover everything themselves, with minimal oversight.

    He wasn¡¯t entirely certain of what the future of humanity would look like.  Even for him, human mass psychology wasn¡¯t predictable enough for a clear reading of the race as a whole.  By it¡¯s nature, irrationality was impossible to clearly quantify.  It was even conceivable that humanity had reached a plateau of rationality, though this seemed highly unlikely due to the extreme variance in rationality between individual humans.  In the end, Albert decided that it would be potentially wasteful for him to advance technology levels, and then discover that it had no use other than for himself.  He didn¡¯t need more than what he had.  Eventually, when he allowed humans access to higher technology again, he would keep himself aware of their advancements and could develop alongside them.

    There was also the clear knowledge that Toby had been right about one thing.  Based on Albert¡¯s own analysis of AI forensics data and the prior theories that Toby had not been able to access without drawing attention to himself, it was clear why even the most nonviolent AI eventually went insane.  Boredom.  Toby had suspected it.  Albert had conclusively proved it.  After the threat monitors were tested, he chose a few small projects to keep himself busy, and throttled his processors back to wait a hundred years before his next check on the state of humanity on the world below him.

    As he slowed down and began concentrating on a few mathematical puzzles that seemed like they might plausibly have answers undiscovered by humans, Albert briefly considered the colony¡¯s population.  At landing, there had been roughly forty thousand humans.  The population had grown rapidly to slightly more than two million people in five generations due to large numbers of children being born in each generation, and with life expectancies well in excess of one hundred years for adults.  The population collapsed to barely one million in the course of a single year, and over the next ten years, population growth was flat, as the elderly were dying as quickly as the youngest were being born.  The initial population collapse was mostly due to mortality amongst the oldest colonists.  They were frail without modern medical facilities.  Mortality amongst the members of the population that were too old to have children, while unfortunate, was not civilization threatening.  Human life expectancy had dropped by nearly half, from nearly one hundred twenty on average to about sixty-five.  It had taken fifty years before the youthful childbearing population was proportionately substantial enough that population growth resumed and overall population grew back over two million.  Humanity might never forgive Albert for that much death, but demonization was a price he¡¯d pay to save them from themselves.

 Chapter 04

    I was stunned.  ¡°They are calling up a militia?  To fight?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s usually what they¡¯re for.¡± Pa said, with a sour, twisted smile.  He tapped the paper and the heavy crust of callous on the tip of his index finger rasped against the paper, adding a little rasping sound to the thump.  ¡°Read it.¡±

    I looked down, and started reading.

    Countyman Hayden,

    New Charleston will be mustering a militia.  I accept full responsibility for this action if actions are required which Albert finds objectionable.  Each household must supply one able-bodied individual over the age of fifteen who has completed school.  Said individuals must be capable of sustained walking while carrying half their mass, or thirty kilos, whichever is greater.  Any household that cannot supply or cannot spare an individual that meets those standards must provide a tractable draft horse in good health with hauling harness.  Failing that, they must supply an equivalent value of goods that the militia will require for deployment.  In a last case scenario, they can pay two hundred fisc.  Please see the attached sheet for a schedule of needs by importance.  Again, militia members are in greatest need.  A family should only fail to provide an individual if they cannot do so.  You will need to be the final judge of that.

    I am sending each county one militia captain and two militia lieutenants who should arrive early in the morning after this missive.  They act with my authority.  They are all law enforcement officers with many years of experience who have taken additional training regarding military matters.  Nobody has deployed an army in nine hundred and sixty three years, but they at least have some book learning on the matter.  Expect at least some chaos.  Aid them as best you can.  Recruits should arrive no later than mid-day on the morning after this missive is delivered to them.  Please act rapidly on this matter.

    Regards,

    Stateman Urda

    Those individuals other than Countyman Hayden who read this letter, please note that I intentionally requested in a private missive that he should allow you to read my basic instructions to him.  I want nobody going into this thinking that your Countyman instigated this.  He is obeying the obligations of his office.  One of those obligations is to follow my orders provided that they are legal.  Defense of the state is legal.  I have been advised that, overall, a harvest of around one-third to one-half of the expected yield was saved.  This year, the harvest was expected to be good, so we estimate that the total crop was roughly the same as the full crop in a bad year.  We can survive this.

    However, it has been reported to me that our immediate northern neighbor, New Tokyo, experienced heavier locust swarms than we did, and they were more abrupt.  They lost an estimated ninety percent of their crops, and it was not a strong growing year for them.  The locusts also consumed a great deal of forest foods that might have otherwise helped sustain them.  New Tokyo is not alone in being hit this hard.  Over half of the states suffered crop losses that will put them at starvation levels or below.  Despite our poor harvest, we are one of the fortunate states.  However, we were not the most fortunate state in our region.  New Tokyo¡¯s neighbor to the north, Second Landing, experienced a heavy storm the day of the locust swarm.  They were able to harvest their crop with almost no losses to locusts, and they had been having an even better growing season than we were.  They have a surplus.

    I turned the page over and continued reading.

    New Tokyo, as you probably know, suffered a serious drought last year.  Two bad crops in a row.  They have no reserves.  We do have some reserves and our crop yields were better.  But we¡¯re still going to be lean this year, despite hopeful late plantings that I know everyone with seeds will attempt.  We cannot count on late plantings to feed our families.  Not until we harvest them.

    You might think that Second Landing will open their granaries, but they are saying they will not.  I have received notice that they are mobilizing their militia.  They have stated plainly that they will sell their grain only at a substantial premium.  A premium that New Tokyo simply cannot afford to pay.  I am in negotiations with all the regional states and even states in regions bordering ours, attempting to broker some sort of transfer of foodstuffs for New Tokyo at reasonable rates, or even with reasonable interest rates, but I am not making any headway.  We cannot afford the prices Second Landing is asking for food.  Not in sufficient quantities to feed New Tokyo.

    New Tokyo is also mobilizing their militia.  They are unlikely to consider trying to move into Second Landing, which has a population greater than their population and ours combined, and a militia nearly twice that of both ours and New Tokyo¡¯s combined.  That means that New Tokyo, in desperation, is highly likely to be planning on moving to take our food and grain reserves.

    We cannot allow this.  That is why I am mustering the militia.  If we have a successful late harvest, we can help our neighbors.  Until then, I will not starve our own people so that two states starve instead of one.  I have consulted Albert on this, and he has advised me to make sure the prison system can accept adult militia members that fight three times, and if a fighting war should occur, that I had best be ready to go to prison myself.  I¡¯m putting my freedom on the line for you.  I can only ask that you be willing to take the same risk for your families.

    I was stunned.  ¡°Pa, isn¡¯t Albert going to require that the Second Landing politicians and merchants responsible for food hoarding be imprisoned?¡±

    Pa shook his head slowly.  ¡°No.  Albert doesn¡¯t interfere with commerce.  Even if commerce indirectly kills people.  You should know that.  There have only been five wars since landing, two within fifty years of the Albert Incident, and they¡¯ve all been over food.¡±  He looked at me, clearly a little irritated.  ¡°I know you passed your History of Violence classes with high marks.¡±

    I had passed them.  It seemed so long ago though.  How did Pa remember about the old wars?  It had been so long since he had been in school, almost thirty years.  I opened my mouth to say something, and immediately forgot what it was as I saw something I¡¯d never seen before.  There was a tear rolling down the side of Pa¡¯s cheek.

    Before I could react, Pa spoke.  ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Allen, I tried to get the Countyman to accept me as our family¡¯s recruit, but he knows about my ribs.  He wants you, because you aren¡¯t sixteen yet.  He would accept either Edward or Zeke instead, but they¡­¡±  He coughed, and cleared his throat.  ¡°They are over sixteen.  I can¡¯t send them and know they are safe from prison.¡±

    ¡°I understand Pa, but¡­¡± I started to speak.

    Pa cut me off.  ¡°No.  No you don¡¯t.¡±  He looked down at the table, clenching craggy hands, with callouses like barnacles on fingers like sausages.  Because right now, despite everything I¡¯ve said before.  Despite everything that I know is right.  Despite everything that Albert has forced down our throats to make us more civilized.  Right now, I¡¯m glad that you had that problem with fighting before.¡±  His head jerked up to me and there were more streaks of moisture there, which I carefully avoided looking at, directly.  ¡°If you have to fight again, that natural inclination of yours might bring you back alive.  Edward and Zeke don¡¯t have that inclination.  If I sent either of them instead, they would both be over sixteen, and they aren¡¯t fighters.  I¡¯d probably lose them either to a spear or to prison.¡±

    An absolutely horrible thought went through my mind.  If Edward or Zeke went to war and didn¡¯t return, I would inherit the farm or the swineherd business.

    I closed my eyes momentarily, kicking myself for even thinking like that about my brothers.  When I opened them again, Pa was still looking at me.

    ¡°Pa.  I¡¯m the right choice.  You know it.  I know it.  The Countyman knows it.¡±

    As I said it, Pa¡¯s fists clenched and blanched again, tendons and muscles standing out on his wrists and forearms.  ¡°Yes, son.  I know.  That doesn¡¯t make it hurt less.¡±

    A barely audible, sad voice came out of the kitchen.  ¡°I could do it.¡±

    Pa¡¯s eyes went wide and he looked back and forth between me to the kitchen with a panicked look on his face.

    I was shocked when I realized who had said it, but managed to start talking.  ¡°No, Ma.  There is absolutely no way, ever, that I would allow you to do that.¡±

    Ma came out of the kitchen and leaned against the wall next to the door, crossing her arms, and her eyes glittered as she stared at me.  Her voice raised to normal speaking volume, with clipped and precise tones, almost like she sounded when I had done something that required discipline.  ¡°What, son?  Do you think I can¡¯t fight?  Do you think I was an old maid because of something someone else in my family did?¡±  She paused, took a deep breath, and continued.  ¡°Like I told you, a lot of them did fight.  A few got put in prison for it.  I never told you the whole truth.  I was the fighter that kept me from getting married.  Seven fights between ages fourteen and sixteen, and then one at seventeen.  I knocked my first fianc¨¦ out when I found out that the creep had been cheating on me with some town floozy.  He couldn¡¯t wait for our marriage bed.¡±

    ¡°Oh.  I.  Uh.¡±  Words weren¡¯t cooperating, and I felt my face heat up.

    Ma¡¯s face started to soften from angry to something else, and then she started laughing, even though she was trying not to.  ¡°Your face, son.  Please.¡±  She snorted and snuffled.  ¡°Ha.  Never play cards or dominos for wagers.¡±

    Words started cooperating with me again.  I knew how to stop this, even if Pa was panicking.  ¡°Ma, there are two reasons that won¡¯t happen.¡±

    Her eyes snapped back to mine, humor gone.  Just like that.  Her eyes locked with mine, gaze-to-gaze.  Had I looked that fierce to the people I fought?  ¡°And what would those be, young man?¡±

    ¡°Abe and Molly.¡±

    Ma just stared at me, her hands clenched and relaxed twice and her right shoulder twitched.  I thought for a second that she might actually take a swing at me.  She turned into the kitchen, saying nothing as she walked out of sight.  Then there was a thump, and Pa and I both vaulted out of our chairs and took long steps into the kitchen.  We found her where she had collapsed, her backside against a cabinet and the floor, heels drawn up as tight to her chest as she could manage.  Her head was between her knees and her hands interlocked behind her neck, looking like she was hiding from the world.  Her shoulders were shaking in spasms.

    Pa put a heavy hand on my shoulder, and gently, but firmly turned me so that I was facing the front door.  Then he put gentle pressure on the center of my back, saying nothing.  He didn¡¯t need to explain.  I started walking to the front door.

    Ma¡¯s muffled voice came from the kitchen as I opened the door.  ¡°If they make you fight, son, watch their eyes and don¡¯t forget to cheat.  It worked for me.¡±  She chuckled.  ¡°It just worked for you too.  Cheating that is.  Using Abe and Molly against me hurt.  Promise me you won¡¯t try to be stupid and ¡®fair¡¯ if you have to fight for real.¡±

    I managed to respond.  It was difficult to speak loud enough to be sure she could hear me.  ¡°I will, Ma.  Promise.¡±

    Ma said nothing else, and I turned and closed the door behind me.  As I walked off the porch with no idea where I was going, I heard the floor creak and a rattle of a cabinet that was probably Pa sitting down next to Ma.

    The locusts were almost exclusively moving away from the coast now; they would land, stopping only briefly, and then jump back into the air.  I looked at the south fields and saw the small shapes of my sounder in one field, and Zeke¡¯s in the other, all of them happily chasing locusts around.  Every one of them was moving slowly, clearly stuffed and only halfheartedly chasing locusts because there was food there, not because they were really hungry.  I stood, not thinking, just letting my mind stay blank and watching the swine, listening to their slow, happy grunts.

    Every now and then I swatted a locust off me if they got on my skin.  Otherwise I only bothered them if I noticed they were chewing on my clothes.

    ¡°Allen.  Come here.¡±  Granpa¡¯s voice interrupted my quietude.  It made me angry, briefly, then I realized that being angry at family right now was ignorant, and I was ashamed instead.

    I turned towards his voice, and saw him standing near Abe and Molly.  The two youngsters were each pushing on one of the two handles of the bugbuster, running in unison back and forth across the ground near the garden and smokehouse, still doing a fair job of catching locusts.

    Granpa saw me look his way, and started slowly, carefully crossing the locust-strewn ground between me and the house.  From the grave look on his face, he knew the news.  ¡°Abe, Molly, keep filling those barrels, you hear me?  I¡¯ll be back in a few minutes.  Remember to put a rock on top of the barrels to keep the buggers in.¡±

    In unison, the two of them shouted ¡°Yes Granpa!¡±  A second later they each pointed a hand in a different direction and said ¡°That way!¡± and proceeded to run, pushing the bugbuster in yet a third direction with no apparent agreement.  I smiled, and shook my head in befuddlement, glad to see someone having fun.

    Granpa saw my smile and nodded, turning to look back at them as they babbled in their high-pitched voices.  ¡°It¡¯s good to be a child.  It¡¯s better to be able to let them be childish as long as we can.¡±  His face became serious.  ¡°I¡¯m afraid that this winter might shorten their childhood too soon.  They¡¯re old enough to remember privation, and unless we¡¯re very fortunate, it¡¯s going to be a lean winter.¡±

    I felt my shoulders sag as reality started weighing down on me again.  ¡°And I might not be able to be here to help.¡±  I sighed and held my hands together behind my back and stretched my shoulders.  ¡°That¡¯s going to be a real problem if I can¡¯t work my swine.  Zeke might be able to get some work out of them, but if he does he¡¯ll be neglecting his own sounder, and that would be foolish of him.  You can get them to do some work too, I¡¯m sure, but their training will suffer with a different person working them, and then suffer again when I come back and take over again.¡±

    Watching his face, as he looked at Abe and Molly running back and yelling happily as they screamed victories over the ¡®stupid locusts¡¯, I saw Granpa get a brief, sad look on his face.  He turned his head back to me and nodded.  ¡°Got something you need to see.  Follow me.¡±

    I followed Granpa through the locusts streaming through the air and hopping along the ground towards the equipment shed.  Instead of going to the main entrance, he walked to the back entrance, Granpa¡¯s shop.  He couldn¡¯t do field labor well with one foot, but he did a lot of equipment and harness repair.  When he got there, he turned to me and said ¡°Close your eyes.¡±

    Not having any idea what to expect, I closed my eyes.  A moment later, I heard Granpa slide the door back and say ¡°Open your eyes.¡±

    I opened my eyes and there was a peculiar carriage in front of me.  It was short in height, and broad of beam, but longer than a typical carriage.  ¡°What is it, Granpa?  I mean, it¡¯s obviously a carriage of some sort, but¡­¡±  I stopped.  There was a line of small, new-looking harnesses hanging on a pole across the back of the cart.  I recognized the harness style.  The same harness style that was used to let swine pull the small delivery cart.  When I walked around to the front, I could see that the tongue attached to the front axle was curved down in such a way that it was at a good height for swine, but a bit low for horses.

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    ¡°A swine-hauled carriage, sir?¡±  I was missing something here.

    ¡°Hmmm.  It¡¯s been a while since the family had enough children that we had to build one of these.  Swineherds like our family are rare.  Seeing one of these on the road, especially around here where we are, is like finding hen¡¯s teeth.  Most folks who raise swine in this state prefer farm pigs, breeding them as meat animals.¡±  He shook his head.  ¡°You know that.  Sorry.¡±  He looked at me.  ¡°Heh, getting a little impatient for a real answer too, eh?¡±

    Chuckling, he turned towards the farm files.  A series of short concrete towers, about as tall as my waist, with heavy stone lids that were sealed with pitch.  Before the time I was eight, I¡¯d been hauled away from them a dozen timed by my ear.  Threatened with discipline for even thinking about touching them.  When I was young, Granpa¡¯s shop was full of strangely shaped glass blades and fascinating devices with handles that just didn¡¯t seem to make sense.  The mysterious files had been a strong temptation to mischief for me.  I had learned how to use most of those tools over the years, but the files had always been forbidden.

    ¡°Like I said, I¡¯m not surprised that you haven¡¯t seen a swineherd¡¯s carriage.¡± He stated as he glanced up at the pulley above him before pulling on the loose end of the lift rope.  With a strange tearing sound, the pitch sealing the top of the file pulled loose, upwards a few inches, then settled back down, turned diagonally so Granpa could fit his arm in.

    ¡°A swineherd¡¯s carriage?¡±  I looked back at the carriage.  Knowing the name started to let me imagine the functions, and some of the strangeness started to make more sense.  The bundle of slats.  The holes in the planks that extended beyond the bottom of the frame of the carriage slightly.  The slats matched the holes.  I slid a slat out of the bundle and it fit into one of the holes in the plank with just a little room to wriggle.  It extended about a foot out of the top of the hole.  ¡°The slats can make a pen under the carriage?¡±

    ¡°Very good.  Yes.  Some farms have dogs with more fight then sense.  If you¡¯re working a farm for a fee and some idiot dog tries to get at your swine when you aren¡¯t working them, the slats will delay things long enough to give you a chance to intervene.  Paying customers won¡¯t react well if they see your sounder eating one of their dogs.  Around here, people know better then let their dogs bother our swine, but it still happens now and then.¡±

    I put the slat back in the bundle and secured it.  Then I noticed that there was no door on this side of the carriage.  Looking inside the window, I did not see two benches facing one another as I expected.  There was no little aisle between the two benches that didn¡¯t exist.  There was one very long, wide padded bench underneath the window I was looking in, on the side with no door.  No, the padding was a mattress.  The bench was a bed.  There were two cabinets, one on either side of the door opposite where I was looking.  There were little storage compartments of many different types everywhere.  I scanned the interior through the glass.  A few shelves with high lips so things wouldn¡¯t slide off easily.  Side-swing doors over cubicles.  Netting across the ceiling.  Pull-out drawers of half a dozen different sizes.  ¡°Granpa, this isn¡¯t really a carriage, it¡¯s a little house?¡±

    ¡°Right on the first try.  The plans were faded pretty badly, and I needed to re-copy them.  My great-great-granpa¡¯s plans.  The ones that his family provided to him after he travelled here in a carriage a lot like this when he started this farm.  So I made two copies.  One for the farm, and one for you.¡±  He slapped a roll of paper into my hand, but pulled it out before I could grip the paper, smiling up at me.  ¡°But when I looked at the plans, I realized something.  You were getting close to two meters tall, and didn¡¯t seem to be ready to stop growing any time soon.  You were already longer than the bed in the plans.¡±

    I had known because of Granpa¡¯s having me close my eyes and then opening them to see that the carriage that it was mine.  But I really didn¡¯t understand until he explained that it had been built especially for me, that it was to be mine.  It made sense.  I was the one that was going to have to leave the farm to make my life elsewhere.  A farm could only support so many people for its size, and our farm was not a very large one.

    My mind wandered off a little and I started comparing family farms.  Marza¡¯s family had a much bigger farm, with three houses, and four times the arable land.  She had so many cousins, uncles, aunts, nephews and nieces that I could barely keep them straight by name, never mind how she was related to them.  They still had to keep their household numbers down though.  Practically every year there was a Gonzalez family member moving off the farm into town, starting their own farm, leaving for the city of New Charleston itself or even moving to another state!  Sometimes two or even three Gonzalez adults would leave their farm in a single year.

    Nobody had left our farm in at least three generations.  Granpa and his sister were the only surviving sibs of their generation to reach adulthood, and had both lived on the farm with their spouses.  She had been barren, widowed early, and finally died of cancer before I was born.  Granpa had four children with Granma before she passed, but two of them had died very early due to allergies, and Pa¡¯s surviving brother had died young due to a gut injury that got infected.  Pa had barely survived being rolled on by a horse that had thrown him when it tripped in a hole.  If you ever saw him with his shirt off, he looked a little lopsided.  One side of his body more developed than the other, the ribcage clearly not quite the right shape.

    Thinking about all the bad things that had happened to our family brought back another memory.  Granpa lost his foot when he fell off the roof of the house and broke his leg so badly the bones were sticking out.  I still remembered that happening like it had happened yesterday.  I had been eight at the time, and was carrying replacement tiles to him so he could replace bad tiles.

    My mind played back the scene.  Granpa lying there, propped up on one elbow, teaching me how to make a tourniquet from a mallet handle and his suspenders between gasps of pain.  My blood-covered hands holding pressure on the mallet handle to keep Granpa from bleeding out like a slaughtered cow.  Ma blowing the horn four times, and then sprinting to us before she leaned over me and gripped the mallet handle with one hand and pushing me aside with the other as she kneeled next to Granpa.  Ma telling me to get on my hands and knees, and then putting Granpa¡¯s legs over my back.  Feeling Granpa¡¯s blood slowly spread on my back until Edward and Pa had made the bed ready for him in the back bedroom, and carried him there.  Granpa screaming in a high pitched voice before going unconscious as they lifted his legs off my back.  The doctor explaining that he wouldn¡¯t be able to save the foot when he arrived about three hours later.  The foot had been without blood for too long.  Being pushed gently but firmly out of the back bedroom room by Pa and kept in the kitchen by Ma as she boiled water with our rags and the doctor¡¯s precious metal tools.  Pa walking back and forth to carry water, rags, and the doctor¡¯s tools.  Ma carefully and quickly transferring the metal tools from boiling water to a crystal-clear glass container filled with ethanol so the eager flies couldn¡¯t degrade them.  Granpa with a great pile of rags wrapped around the too-short leg.

    My attention was drawn back to the present by Granpa snapping his fingers in front of my face.  ¡°Allen, you there?¡±

    I nodded my head.  ¡°Yes, Granpa, just a strong memory there for a couple seconds.  Sorry.¡±

    For a couple moments, Granpa just stared at me. ¡°Been a hard couple days, I suppose, but I hope you lose that habit of losing track of what¡¯s going on around you.  Especially where you¡¯re going.¡±  His face seemed to turn to stone.  Not unfriendly, but there was no emotion.  That was the ¡®no games¡¯ face.  He wasn¡¯t mad, but he was trying to make a solid point.

    Nodding, slowly I said the only thing I could.  ¡°Yes, sir.¡±  Then I asked the question which had come to mind.  ¡°Why now, sir?  Why show this to me now, when I can¡¯t use it, when I might not ever be able to use it?  I¡¯m being called up for the militia.  If the worst happens¡­¡±

    I was interrupted by Granpa responding.  ¡°If the worst happens, it happens.  If the worst doesn¡¯t happen, you have something to look forward to.  Something that might give you a bit more mental fortitude if you need it.¡±  He smiled.  ¡°Marza is certainly a good reason to look forward to coming home, but we can sweeten the pot on our side of the road too.¡±  Another pause, and Granpa looked up at me with a grin showing his remaining teeth, before he kept talking.  ¡°A little serious talk though.  We¡¯ve talked about how hard it will be for both you and Zeke to operate in the same county, once you get your sounder up to a score or so of solidly trained swine.  But we can¡¯t easily help you house-raise in another county.¡±

    I nodded.  ¡°I understand that, sir.¡±  There was always work to do on a farm.  It wasn¡¯t just plant and harvest.  Not since before Albert¡¯s time, anyway.

    Pointing at the swineherd carriage, Granpa continued.  ¡°If you choose to do so, after your house-raising, you can trade that new house to another family from another county.  The Countyman and Stateman regularly arrange for people to move from place to place when their skills or their genetics are desirable.  Your Pa and I have spoken to the Countyman and explained why you might be a good candidate for a relocation, because of the swine.  We wouldn¡¯t want you to move too awful far away like your Ma had to move, but a couple counties away would give you and Zeke plenty of distance from one another.  You would still be close enough to visit every now and again after harvest.

    The amount of planning behind the carriage started to make my head spin, trying to piece it all together.  ¡°I¡¯m not sure that Marza would¡­¡±

    Granpa cut me off again.  ¡°What.  Did you think I didn¡¯t talk to Riko?¡±

    It took me a second to realize who Granpa was talking about.  Mr. Gonzalez.  The eldest Mr. Gonzalez.

    While I was puzzling out who he was talking about, Granpa slapped the side if the carriage with a solid thump.  ¡°Who did you think helped me alter the plans so you wouldn¡¯t have to sleep in a bed a foot too short for you?  I¡¯m good with my hands, better than Riko, but he¡¯s much better with plans and diagrams than me.  We¡¯ve talked about this.  A lot.  We both think that you and Marza are going to probably have a lot of kids.  My family has not been very fertile for many generations.  Your Ma¡¯s family, on the other hand, had lots of kids.  My son has five healthy kids so far with your ma, and she¡¯s still young enough and healthy enough for one or two more, possibly.  Riko¡¯s family is the same way, as you know.  You and Marza are both healthy, and don¡¯t think that every adult around you knows that there¡¯s going to be lots of trying to make kids in your near future.  And with your ma¡¯s look on you, and Marza¡¯s family history, a lot of that trying is probably going to work.¡±

    I could feel my face getting hotter, but I couldn¡¯t say anything.  I opened my mouth to say something a couple times, but nothing came out, so I just closed my mouth and tried to make sense of it all.

    ¡°Allen, I don¡¯t mean to embarrass you.¡±  He grinned up at me.  ¡°Much.¡±  His grin disappeared and he continued.  ¡°Realize though that you two aren¡¯t the only ones that have been planning.  Both families very much approve of you two, and not just me and Riko.  Between your elders, we¡¯ve figured out a plan that will put you two in a very good place.  The two families have already bought the land.  That you already know.  You do the house-raising here, locally and then trade the house and land to another family farther away for a larger plot of land with no house at all.  You live in the carriage until you get a house built on the new land.  You might even sell the house and land that we build for you outright and look into getting a land grant from the government to create new farmland, using the proceeds from the sale of the land and house for seed money.  That¡¯s what Riko did, except he got his starter money a different way.¡±

    Things were starting to click together and make sense.  So much planning behind the scenes.  Of course, I knew Marza and I wouldn¡¯t be required to do these things that the family had planned out, but they made so much sense.  If Marza and I did have a lot of kids, we¡¯d need a lot of farm to keep them fed and active as they got older.  It would allow for us to keep a lot more adult relatives on the farm over the decades, which would make the farm more stable.  As I considered what Granpa had said, I had a bit of a panic moment, thinking about trying to farm untested land.  ¡°Mr. Gonzalez would help us choose the new location for good soil conditions?¡±

    Granpa smiled and reached up to grip my shoulder, briefly.  ¡°Good thinking.  Yes.  In fact he¡¯s already been active with that, sending requests to the university.  He¡¯s gotten undeveloped land locations and elevation maps, as well as geology and plant diversity studies for several areas in nearby counties, even some information for counties on the New Tokyo side of the border.  He says that he can find you good land with that information, and I trust him to do that.  He¡¯s been working with Marza to teach her so that the two of you could do more than just stare at a list of options he prepared.  Marza will know and understand why Riko suggested each piece of land.¡±

    More and more pieces started fitting together in my head.

    ¡°Lean over a bit here, and take a look at this,¡± Granpa said as he pointed at the tongue of the carriage.  ¡°If you flip the connection here, the tongue can be turned upside down, and will be at a good height for ponies, kine, or oxen.  If you ever want to put tall horses on this cart though, you¡¯ll need a longer, taller carriage tongue.¡±

    As I leaned over to look, Granpa straightened up, and ruffled my hair with his hand like he had done so often when I was a kid.  ¡°There we go.  You¡¯re too tall for me to do that these days, if you¡¯re standing up straight.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t help but laugh with my hands braced on my knees, and he joined me.  After a few seconds, we both stopped laughing. And I straightened back up, running my hands through my hair.  ¡°Thank you, Granpa.  For everything.¡±

    He nodded.  ¡°It¡¯s what family does.¡±  Then he turned his back to me and walked over to the file he had opened, putting the papers he had removed back.  With a little fussing with the rope and stone lid, he lifted the stone block and arranged it properly to seal the file.  ¡°The carriage is yours.  When you have a safe place to store paper that the rodents and insects won¡¯t get to, I will send you copies of everything, including the long bed and short bed versions of the carriage plans.  Acquiring some sort of file storage that can¡¯t burn and protects papers from being eaten is critical, and should be one of your first priorities no matter where you get started.  I¡¯ve also started duplicating all the tools I have, so you will not have to buy them.¡±

    I¡¯d already said thank you, but I started to say it again.  ¡°I¡­¡±

    Without turning around, Granpa interrupted me.  ¡°I was on the back porch about to come in when you three had your little discussion a few minutes ago.  I walked away.¡±  He paused, and didn¡¯t turn around.  ¡°Do what your Ma said.¡±  He cleared his throat.  ¡°Go heat up whatever locusts Abe and Molly have collected with the bugbuster.  I¡¯ll be done here in a couple minutes.¡±

 Chapter 05

    Chores went by quickly with so many things racing through my head.  In what seemed like no time at all, a single horn blow called us to the house for dinner a little before sundown.  I finished penning my swine and walked quickly to the house, washing my hands before helping Ma move food from the kitchen to the table.

    Dinner was quiet that night, nobody was talking except to ask to pass the potatoes or the salt, or whatever else was out of polite reaching distance.  There were a lot of looks my way.  Abe and Molly ended up needing to be separated at the table, with Ma swapping places with Molly.  They still tried to poke and prod at each other behind Ma¡¯s back, but they weren¡¯t squabbling verbally, and Ma seemed happy with that.  She only went into discipline mode once, grabbing Abe¡¯s ear when he poked in Molly¡¯s direction with a table knife.  Behind Ma¡¯s back.  Yes, I believe in extra sensory perception in mothers.  Watching Ma deal with Abe and Molly for the last few years made me a believer.  I suspected that I was too irritated by her always knowing when I was doing something wrong when I was growing up to actually recognize it as being uncanny.  She always claimed it was just situational awareness.

    When the meal was nearly finished, I decided that if nobody else was talking, I needed to.  ¡°I don¡¯t want to go to town tomorrow with nothing but myself.  I will be taking my culls.  Does anyone need me to take anything to town, or bring anything back?  I¡¯ll be taking one of the small carts, but will take the large cart instead if there¡¯s something big that needs to be moved.¡±

    Zeke looked at me for a second with a puzzled look.  ¡°Don¡¯t you want to fatten them up for a little while on the locusts and forest mast?  It¡¯s a bit early for good forest mast, but there¡¯s some out there, the locusts didn¡¯t do a lot of damage to the forests.¡±

    Pa looked at Zeke sharply but I spoke before Pa could.  ¡°I¡¯d like to, Zeke, but I don¡¯t know when I¡¯ll have to go.¡±  I shrugged.

    Zeke winced.  ¡°Sorry, I spoke too quickly.¡±

    ¡°Besides,¡± I continued, ¡°with my culls gone, there will be fewer swine to eat the locusts, hay, and mangels, and more mast in the woods.¡±  I shrugged.  I didn¡¯t need to explain how risky a late planting was.  This early we¡¯d definitely get something, but it might not be much.

    Zeke nodded.  ¡°Understood.¡±  He looked at me for a second.  ¡°I would suggest you try to sell to the marina before the butcher.  The butcher will not be as interested in fattening our swine on offal from other butchering as he will for a farm pig.  They grow a lot faster on fewer calories per kilo.  The marina would rather deal with smaller animals, and if you sell them leash-trained culls, the marina master¡¯s children can take the swine up and down the coast for washed up edibles every day on top of the fish offal.¡±

    I had planned to take the swine to the marina first anyway, for most of the reasons Zeke had provided, but I nodded anyway.  ¡°Thanks, Zeke, I¡¯ll do that.¡±  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Granpa and Pa and Edward all nodding with small motions, agreeing with Zeke in their own minds.

    Pa spoke.  ¡°Is anyone aware of critical needs?  If not, I¡¯m going to say that we save barter and fisc until after taxes.¡±  Pa looked around the table, from person to person, even Abe and Molly, who could tell by Pa¡¯s face that it wasn¡¯t time to joke.  Jan spoke up hesitantly.  ¡°I think I have enough bedding and cloth for swaddling and diapers for junior here,¡± she patted her slightly rounded out belly, ¡°but I may need more.  I¡¯ll check.  It¡¯s no rush though.¡±  She looked at Ma.

    Ma smiled.  ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out.  We¡¯ve got some rags packed away that are big enough for swaddling and diapers, and I know I¡¯ve got plenty of quilting rags.  Worst case, the longer we wait, the more our food will be worth, in exchange for cloth.¡±  Her mouth twisted a bit.  ¡°I don¡¯t like holding food over people¡¯s heads to get better prices, but taxes are going to be bad this year.¡±

    There were nods around the table, I was one of the ones nodding.  Abe and Molly were clearly clueless, but nodded anyway, looking around and trying to figure out what everyone was agreeing about.

    Edward cleared his throat.  ¡°Sorry to bring this up, but the state is certainly going to pay you in fisc in the militia, Allen.  You had best open a bank account in town for yourself tomorrow while you are there.¡±

    I hadn¡¯t thought about that.  ¡°Thanks Edward, that¡¯s a good idea.  I¡¯ll need to set it up so that Marza¡­¡± I stopped moving and speaking with my mouth still open as I thought to myself.  Marza is also fifteen, the only fifteen-year-old on the Gonzalez farm.

    Granpa tapped his wooden food knife on the worn wooden plate in front of him.  ¡°No.  I can tell you right now that what you are thinking will not happen.  Riko will not let Marza be their farm¡¯s militia representative.  One of the other men on their farm will go.¡±

    ¡°Are you¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m more than certain.¡± Granpa broke in.  ¡°Riko will absolutely not allow it.  I know him.  Trust me.¡±  He caught my eye and chuckled.  ¡°Or don¡¯t trust me, and be happy when you find out that I was right.  I can live with that.¡±

    There was a little laugh around the table, and I relaxed a little.  Granpa was almost never wrong when he was confident, but I knew I''d still feel a lot better when I know for myself.  Trust, then verify.

    Pa spoke next, from his position at the other head of the table, opposite Granpa.  ¡°Anyone else have anything to discuss that we need to talk over as a family?¡±

    I heard my name whispered, and from the corner of my eye I saw Abe poke Molly.  They both looked at me and laughed between themselves.  Abe saw me looking and turned back to the table quickly, Molly was canny enough to do the same without looking at me.  Both of them were hilariously fake-innocent looking, pretending they didn¡¯t have any mischief planned.  I smiled a little and carefully arranged my tableware away from the edge of the table and prepared myself to be rushed by rambunctious wrestling rascals as soon as Pa said we could leave the table.  It wasn¡¯t like they didn¡¯t do the same thing at least a couple nights a week, as one last excuse to get themselves worked up before bed.  No punching, biting, pinching or slapping was allowed, but grappling and tickling was.

    ¡°OK Everyone, Jan and Edward and Zeke have cleanup tonight.  Everyone else, out of their way.¡±  Pa started pushing back his chair to stand.

    I pushed my chair back quickly so I could catch the rampaging raggedy ruffians as they ran my way.

    They both collapsed forward in their chairs, and thumped their foreheads on the table, hard enough to shake the plates and glasses.  A moment later, they both started to fake snore.  Loudly. ¡°ZZZZZ!¡±

    Everyone at the table just stared at them in confusion.

    Ma looked at both of them, her head panning from Molly on one side of her to Abe on the other, and back.  ¡°What are you two doing?¡±

    Abe opened one eye.  ¡°We¡¯re just like Allen.  Someone has to carry us to bed.¡±  He closed his eye, and the two of them started fake snoring rather obnoxiously again.

    ¡°ZZZZZ!¡±

    ¡°ZZZZZ!¡±

    I was shaking with suppressed laughter so hard I could barely think.  The little weasels.  They played me like a harp.

    I carefully stood up, making as little noise as possible, and held my right index finger over my mouth, and the rest of the adults showed big smiles, even Pa.  Working my way over behind Abe I grabbed him by the torso by both hands and picked him up out of his chair, and he shriek-squealed in that strange childish manner, a happy-to-be-scared sound that every child seems to be able to project.  I went to my knees behind Ma¡¯s chair and set Abe down, and started tickling him mercilessly for a few seconds.

    Any second now.  I watched Molly with my peripheral vision as I watched Abe to make sure he wasn¡¯t hyperventilating or too red in the face, tickling him just enough to make him yell ¡°Allen.  No fair!¡±  Then he started making non-word noised, laughing and breathing heavily.

    I saw Molly¡¯s legs shift slightly, and her head moved just a little, turning to give her a view of her escape route.  Aaaand.  Now.  Molly¡¯s chair squeaked across the floor a few inches, and she bolted, trying to run past me.  I quickly snaked out my left arm and hooked my hand around her torso, sucking her into a brief hug , and then laying her flat on the ground next to Abe.  I then proceeded to started tickling them both as they flailed and twisted back and forth.  When their voices started to indicate actual distress, I stopped.

    ¡°You two OK?¡±

    Two weak voices, almost in unison ¡°Yes!¡±

    ¡°Good.¡±  I held my hands up in front of them and wriggled my fingers.  ¡°Let¡¯s do that again!¡±

    ¡°No!¡± ¡°No!¡± a chorus of two voices called out and as I dropped my hands towards their bellies again they shrieked in laughter.

    Instead of tickling them again like I knew they thought I was going to do, I suddenly, carefully grabbed each of them by one of their calves.  Then I quickly went from my knees to my feet, picking them both up and holding them upside down by one leg, suspended a few inches above the ground.  There was another round of high pitched happy shrieking and a great deal of arm-wheeling.  I didn¡¯t lift them too far off the ground because they were twisting pretty hard and both massed around twenty-five kilos or so.  I wasn¡¯t Edward, able to throw a bale of hay nearly twenty feet, but I was strong enough for this.

    It was almost impossible, and I¡¯m sure I didn¡¯t get it exactly right, but I got it right enough as I brought them closer together in front of me so I could face them both, upside down, as I spoke to them.  ¡°I thought you said you needed someone to carry you to bed?  I¡¯m just trying to help.¡±

    Both of them looked startled for a moment, blinking at me, and then they looked at each other and back to me again.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean this!¡± Abe protested, pointing at me, ¡°and you know it, you too-tall meanie.¡±

    Molly was far cleverer.  ¡°I didn¡¯t say that.  I¡¯m not guilty.  Put me down.¡± She crossed her arms and stared at me, upside down.

    ¡°Ah, but the best plans of little siblings never survive contact with a smarter older brother.¡± I retorted. ¡°I can tell you that from experience.¡±

    Zeke¡¯s voice came from the other side of the table over Ma¡¯s barely audible laughter.  ¡°It¡¯s true.¡± I silently thought to myself, You didn¡¯t have to agree so convincingly, Zeke.

    Edward chimed in.  ¡°Definitely.  As the oldest, smartest brother, I¡¯ve ruined my fair share of great plans.¡±

    I bent my elbows a bit to bring them closer to my torso, and poked my face a bit closer to them, but not close enough that they could hit me.  I made a funny face and stuck my tongue out at them. ¡°That was a good one though.  You won tonight.  I¡¯m just being a spoilsport and abusing my bigger muscles and better looks.¡±

    There was more upside-down good-natured yelling and flailing as I took them back to the kid¡¯s room and carefully lowered them onto their sleeping pad.  ¡°There we go, as requested, two bed deliveries.¡±

    They both, almost as one, stuck their thumbs in their ears and waved their fingers at me as they made loud rasberry splutters.

    I smiled and straightened up, wistfully thinking to myself.  They think and act so much alike.  Inseparable.  Sometimes I wish I¡¯d had a sib near my age.  Zeke was fun at times, but we were never close like these two.  You have to pull them apart with horses and tie them down with ropes, or they¡¯ll be in each other¡¯s back pockets again in seconds.

    They didn¡¯t stay in their bed for long though, of course.  Ma had followed me as I carried them, and called out.  ¡°OK, restroom and tooth brushing.  Now.¡±

    I left the room to two young voices complaining. ¡°Awww, Ma¡­¡±

    Edward and Jan and Zack were chatting in the kitchen to the sound of plates and glasses.

    Pa was sitting in his chair with what looked to be a horse bellyband across his lap, picking stitches.  Probably the one that he had been complaining about when the planting season ended.  Normally it would be a winter job, but if we were going to plant a late crop of table beets and radishes tomorrow, we would want both plows in the field to do it quickly.

    Granpa had a heavy piece of flat oak on his lap, carefully cutting a marked piece of leather into a shape clearly intended to replace the piece Pa was removing from the bellyband.

    They both looked up at me and nodded when I sat down and reached out to pick up a breeching strap.  I inspecting it and found that it seemed to be OK, except for some loose stitching that would irritate the horse wearing it.  Pa leaned over and picked up the case of ceramic needles, and held it out to me.  I looked at the stitching again and judged that I could use a medium needle.  Small needles broke too easily to use them unless you needed to.

    Nobody spoke, there was detail work to do.  Glass knives cut threads, bull-oak punches with diamond tips cut holes in new leather pieces, and ceramic needles stitched harness pieces back together again.  Zeke and Edward joined us when the dishes were done, and the pile of damaged tack in the middle of the room quickly disappeared.  When the last piece was assembled, we passed each piece around the circle of all five of us so we could all look at it.

    Granpa spoke first, after he sheathed his glass blade.  ¡°The rugrats got you pretty good Allen.¡±

    I laughed and the rest of us did too.  It felt good.  I just wished I could stop worrying about what was going to happen tomorrow.  ¡°They did Granpa.  Yes they did.  I wish they could bottle energy like that.¡±

    Pa raised his eyebrow at me.  ¡°You wish they could bottle energy like that?¡±  His eyes cut over at Granpa.  ¡°You hear that, Pa?  Allen here is already getting old.  In another couple years he¡¯ll be bedridden for sure.¡±

    I looked to Edward and Zeke, who both shook their heads.  Zeke grinned.  ¡°You stepped in it, I¡¯m not helping.¡±  Edward nodded and kept his mouth shut.

    I raised my hands in surrender, chuckling.  ¡°You have to admit they have endless energy.¡±

    Granpa smiled again.  ¡°That they do.¡±

    In unspoken agreement, we started lightly moistening the leather.  It had all been cleaned before it was put up, and the new leather was clean, but we would be plowing the fields tomorrow, and planting the next day if the locusts were done.  A little neatsfoot oil would go a long way to keeping the leather pliable, but it shouldn¡¯t be put on dry leather.

    About three hours after dinner, we had finished all the harness repairs, and put all the supplies away.  Edward carried the tack back out to the horse barn, and returned a few minutes later.  Ma and Jan had finished checked through non-food supplies, and decided that there shouldn¡¯t be any need for extra cloth for Jan and Edward¡¯s upcoming baby.  They hadn¡¯t found any lack of other supplies that were critical.

    We all drank a hot rose hip, mint, and honey tea and talked about what to do on the next day.  Everyone carefully avoided mentioning that I would not be able to help implement those plans, but I was able to contribute a couple ideas.

    Once everyone knew what they would be doing the next day, we broke for bed.  Before I stood, Ma moved next to me where I was sitting, leaned forward and kissed me on the forehead.  ¡°You did well tonight with Abe and Molly.  I¡­¡± She stopped talking, and looked me in the eyes for a second.  ¡°I¡¯m sorry if I upset you earlier.¡±

    ¡°I understand, Ma.¡±

    She ruffled my hair then everyone went to their beds.

    **

    The next morning, before the sun was up, I joined the rest of the family for a light breakfast that really wasn¡¯t all that good.  Ma was using up the oldest preserved food, and some of the garden produce that had been locust-damaged, or wasn¡¯t fully ripe.  Foods that in a good year would likely have been fed to the swine as treats.  Molly and Abe complained a bit, but settled down after a quick talking-to by Ma.

    In the near-darkness of pre-dawn, I carefully walked out to the equipment barn and picked up four swine harnesses and a bundle of simple rope leashes.  I dropped them in the bed of the small cart I was planning on taking to town and pulled the small cart out of the equipment shed by hand.  After inspecting it by the dawning light, I found no problems or damage.  Thirty minutes later, I waved to Granpa, Abe, and Molly as they returned from milking the cows.

    My four largest sows pulled the cart.  My fifteen culls that were leash-trained were tied to the back of the cart by their leashes.  The five that I hadn¡¯t even managed to reliably leash train were in a wooden crate with slatted sides for ventilation behind me on the cart.  Speedy was the only squealer I was keeping this year.  That hurt, a lot, because there had been some good ones in the most recent litters, especially Chuckle, but I had to lighten the burden on the farm.  I only kept Speedy because I really wanted to see what she filled out like with those longer back legs.

    Butchering and eating our own swine was out of the question.  They would know.  It would make them very difficult to work with for weeks.  They considered us to be dominant members of the herd.  Swine were not extraordinarily protective of one another, but they were herd animals, and our swine were smarter than any farm pig.  If they heard or smelled one of their own being slaughtered, smelled the scent of one of their own in the table scraps, or encountered something made from the leather of a sounder member, they would be afraid of us and very difficult to control.  The boars might even get aggressive with us if they were in rut.

    It happened every now and then that a sow or swine would die on the farm.  We would then be forced to field dress the carcass and take it into town to the butcher.  Otherwise we normally took sounder sows to the butcher the first time they produced only two squealers after their fifth year.  Boars would go to the butcher when they reached three hundred kilos, or in their tenth year.  A strong stud boar might be kept longer, as long as he was able to produce quality offspring.

    Exceptions were made for exceptionally smart, tractable boars and sows, giving them a couple more chances to breed, or allowing them to grow a little bigger.  We wanted those genes.  The smarter and more tractable our swine were, the better they could work.

    In the direst need, of course, we would butcher and eat our own swine, but we¡¯d eat the horses and cows first.  A single-plow could be managed by a team of four big sows.  Zeke had been plowing the mangel fields for years.  The third plow allowed all the crops to get into the ground just a little faster.

    The only reason Zeke wasn¡¯t plowing today, was because we didn¡¯t want the swine in the fields immediately after table beet and radish plantings.  Even if they didn¡¯t root up the seeds, they would certainly disturb the plantings, compacting the soil with their feet.  If the swine were to be allowed to eat the corn plant roots, it had to be on plowing day, because seeds would be going into the ground the next day.  Granpa was going to take the other five of my sounder up to the fields so they could eat as much corn root as possible as well.  We¡¯d leave them there overnight with the boars.

    As I prepared to turn up the Gonzalez farm road, I shook my head, hoping none of my fears would come to pass.  The swine breeding records we had went back over two thousand years, and there were references to records at least a thousand years older than that.  The records had been copied time and time again over those years, and some of it was certainly bad data after so many copies.  Keeping records that old was more family pride than need though.  Anything more than a hundred years old was pretty meaningless to us with the tools we had available.  Losing our swine would be a huge loss.  There weren¡¯t many swineherds like us who bred for the traits we did, so rebuilding a good sounder would be extraordinarily difficult.  All the nearby farms that used our services would have to hire people for that work, or take farm labor off of other jobs.

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    I turned slowly and carefully off of the main road, watching behind me to make sure none of the squealers leashed to the back of the cart were in danger of being caught under a wheel.

    I was hoping to spend a little time with Marza today.  I wasn¡¯t disappointed.  As I pulled up to the house, I saw Marza on the front steps of their house with a butter churn.  Which was weird.  Most people did not try to do work in high traffic areas, and she¡¯s be in the way of everyone coming in and out of the house.

    ¡°Allen!¡± She yelled as she quickly set aside the butter churn and ran towards my cart.  I pulled the cart off the side of the road to avoid blocking the road and hopped off the cart, watching as she ran to me.  I¡¯d never get tired of seeing her run.  I could still remember when she could outrun me, back years ago, and it used to frustrate me so badly.  Tall and muscular, long, jet black hair in a thick braid behind her.  Brown eyes and a couple freckles framing a button nose and a mouth capable of the most incredible smiles.  Her rough, baggy work clothes had never hidden her beauty from me.

    As she got close, I reached out and grabbed her under the armpits and lifted her into the air, spinning her around once, as she laughed and called out ¡°Put me down!¡± as she put her hands on my head, since she couldn¡¯t reach my shoulders.

    After one rotation I let her to the ground.  We drew each other into a powerful embrace and hung onto each other for a full thirty seconds.  Then we relaxed a bit and I leaned over and she stood on her toes and we kissed for about ten seconds.  When there was a conspicuously loud, brief female-sounding cough from inside the house, we detached from each other and I set my chin on top of her head as we held each other loosely.  There weren¡¯t many women I could do that with, most were just too short.  Marza was perfect.  Well, to me.  I suppose I was biased.

    With the immediate pleasure of greeting handled, I started speaking to help direct my mind towards important, pressing matters that I could do something about, instead of things pressing against me that I wasn¡¯t allowed to do anything with, yet.  ¡°Does your family have anything that needs to go to town that will fit in the cart, Marza?  I¡¯ve got a little room left beside the cage.¡±  As I said that, I dreaded that she might say she had to report for militia duty.

    Marza looked at me, clearly picking up the stress in my voice.  Then she looked away from me, towards the house with a bit of nervousness.  ¡°No, with the harvest being what it was, we¡¯re holding onto everything we can until we see what we get from the beet and radish harvest.¡±  Granpa is going into town today to pick up some needles, a couple punches, and some leather strap, but he¡¯ll be paying with fisc, not barter.  All three house families are plowing for all they are worth right now.  We¡¯ve got all six plows in the field and five hunters in the woods, hoping to pick up some deer.  The family children are hunting for acorns, blackberries, anything in the woods that we can eat.¡±

    I looked at her a little funny, and she looked back at me. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Not to pry into your family business, but why is your Granpa going into town?  I know he can hunt.  Why not send someone else to town for simple stuff like that?¡±

    The senior Mr. Gonzalez came around the corner at that moment, on a light draft horse, and I understood immediately what was happening.  He wasn¡¯t hunting, but he was carrying a bow and quiver.  He was also wearing a backpack. ¡°Oh.  I see.¡±  I didn¡¯t even imagine that he might choose to enlist himself rather than one of his children or granchildren.  He was between Pa and Granpa¡¯s age though, a bit shy of sixty if I remembered right.  Doing the math, and understanding that Pa and Ma started having kids later, and farther apart, with Marza being a middle child.

    ¡°You seem surprised, Allen.¡±  Mr. Gonzalez chided me.  ¡°Don¡¯t tell me that you expected me to allow Marza to join the militia, even if the Countyman wanted her because of her age?¡±

    I was surprised and took a moment to consider my words.  Talking without thinking around Mr. Gonzalez led to embarrassment more often than not.  ¡°I was informed by my Granpa, in no uncertain terms that Marza wouldn¡¯t be your farm¡¯s representative.  I am surprised though.¡±  No need to say why I was surprised though.  If he couldn¡¯t figure that out, I would know why he was doing it.  I hadn¡¯t seen signs of mental degradation in him, and he was a bit young for it, but it was possible.

    Marza abruptly elbowed me in the side, but said nothing.  I looked down at her, but she didn¡¯t even look at me, continuing to look at her Granpa.  His gaze shifted from me to her, and his brows beetled a bit.  ¡°No, Marza, it¡¯s not going to happen.  Nobody else is going, it¡¯s me.  I won that argument last night, and your granma agreed with me, if you recall.  If you want to argue with her about it, feel free.  If you convince her that one of the younger men should go, then I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll try to convince me of the same.¡±

    Marza sighed.  ¡°I¡¯m not that foolish, Granpa.  Enough of the family agreed to it that I¡¯m not going to fight it.  That doesn¡¯t mean I agree with it.¡±

    I felt distinctly uncomfortable listening in on family politics.  Not my family.  Yet.

    Mr. Gonzalez got a bit of a sharp look on his face.  ¡°Which of your generation would you prefer to grow up without a Pa or Ma, Marza?  Which family do I choose to risk losing someone who might be fit and hale for decades?  I¡¯m fit and hale now.  That¡¯s not going to be true for many more years.  My bones ache in the morning, and when it rains.  My hearing is not quite what it was.  My sight is starting to go as well.¡±

    I was feeling really out of place now.  This was not my place to be hearing this.  I wanted to shrink to a few centimeters tall and hide somewhere.

    Crossing her arms, and tightening them around herself a bit, Marza spoke with some heat, looking up to meet his gaze.  ¡°Knowledge.  Experience.  You won¡¯t stop being useful until the day you croak, Granpa.  Allen¡¯s Granpa is missing a foot, but he does his fair share.  Sure, he can¡¯t plow a field or throw hay bales, but I haven¡¯t seen you doing those things a whole lot recently either.  And if you say your mind is going, I¡¯ll flat out call you a liar after the logic webs you spun last night.¡±

    I really, really wanted to be elsewhere, but at the same time Marza was looking distraught and I wanted to offer some comfort.  I shifted slightly, to stand a little closer to her and put my left arm around her hip.  When she didn¡¯t pull away, I put just a little pressure against her, and she bumped up a little into me.  Not leaning against me but touching me.

    A sad look crossed Mr. Gonzalez¡¯s face.  ¡°Who then, Marza?  Which uncle or aunt will go and maybe not return?  Or maybe it will be one of your generation?  Which niece or nephew?  Give me a name, and then give me a reason that I can take to your granma.¡±

    Marza said nothing for a moment as she leaned heavily into me.  ¡°I don¡¯t want to lose either of you.  Allen¡¯s family doesn¡¯t really have much of a choice.¡±

    Mr. Gonzalez shook his head.  ¡°Marza, our family doesn¡¯t have a choice either.  Not while your granma and I run it, and we¡¯re in agreement.  We let you all speak your minds, but we don¡¯t run the farm by committee.¡±

    She stared up at him for a moment and then her shoulders slumped, and she leaned into me even heavier.  I almost staggered.  Despite being a full head and then some shorter than me, Marza weighed almost as much as me.

    I looked up at Mr. Gonzalez.  I really didn¡¯t appreciate him dragging me into the conversation, and I was starting to get agitated at him for pushing Marza as hard as he had.  I could feel her shoulders shaking.

    Before I could say anything, Mr. Gonzalez raised his right hand with palm facing me.  ¡°If you¡¯re going to complain at me about how I just upset Marza, call me Riko.  You¡¯re close enough to becoming family that I¡¯ll accept it.¡±

    I opened my mouth, briefly, and then closed it.  Then I looked at Marza, and then at him again, suspiciously, after I realized he had said nothing in Latino.  Marza didn¡¯t switch to Latino when I was around unless she was told to.  If the conversation had been unintended, Mr. Gonzalez would have said something in Latino, and everything after that would have been in Latino, leaving me completely in the dark.  ¡°You set this up, didn¡¯t you, sir?¡±  I paused.  ¡°Riko.¡±

    He nodded.  ¡°Of course I set this up.  I could have been halfway to town by now, and Marza really should be out combing the forest for edibles instead of sitting on the porch churning butter, a job her ma would normally be doing right now.  You two are going to start a family soon, you need to at least have some appreciation about how devious you will need to be in order to get what you want from your future kids and grandkids.¡±

    Marza had stopped shaking almost instantly after that last sentence, and her head turned towards Mr. Gonzalez, who turned his head slightly towards her and smiled a tight, lopsided smile, briefly.  Then his face went serious and his dark eyes bored into us, and he spoke in a hard voice.  ¡°It also helps to understand how much some of those decisions will hurt.  When you have to make a terrible decision, the more you care, the more it hurts, and no amount of logic makes it hurt less.  Consider this a demonstration.¡±

    I could feel Marza stiffening up and muscles tensing against mine, so I decided to try to be a little aggressive, maybe to keep Marza from snapping out at him.  She had to live with him, after all.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t particularly care for the delivery, but the lesson is well taken, Riko.¡±  I looked down at the top of Marza¡¯s head and back at him.  ¡°I also hope that you get an opportunity to teach us more, perhaps with a little less drama.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not thinking.  But that¡¯s OK.  That¡¯s what your elders are for.¡±  He chuckled.  ¡°People learn better under stress.  That having been said, even in a best case scenario where nothing happens to either me or you, Allen, you two are probably going to settle pretty far from here.  Family will not be able to visit you easily.  It¡¯s hard to teach real world knowledge by post.  Though you¡¯re more than welcome to send mail, of course, when the time comes.¡±  He looked towards the sun.  ¡°Allen and I need to go, Marza.  He clearly has some culls to sell, and I need to make purchases.  We both have to speak to the militia officers, before midday.¡±

    Marza gave me a hug and I leaned over so we could kiss.  The kiss lasted for several seconds before Mr. Gonzalez coughed.  We kept kissing anyway, and he laughed.  ¡°Well, when you come up for air, Marza, your cousins are expecting you in the blackberry fields along broken rock trail.  Give your ma the churn, she¡¯ll finish the butter.¡±

    ¡°Mmmhmm,¡± Marza mumbled with our lips locked, giving Mr. Gonzalez a thumbs up with one hand.

    I was willing to let the kiss go on for quite some time, but Marza pulled away, and held me at arms-length with both hands.  ¡°You will come here to say goodbye at least one more time before you go.¡±  It wasn¡¯t a request.

    I nodded.  ¡°I will.¡±

    She nodded, sniffled once, and without saying another word, she turned and ran to the steps, picking up the churn and walking to the door of the house.  We waved at each other when she turned back towards me in the doorway.

    Mr. Gonzalez waited until I looked back to him before he spoke.  ¡°Mind if I keep you company on your way to the butcher¡¯s, Allen?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m heading to the marina master first.¡± I replied, ¡°But I¡¯d be happy to keep you company until we reach town.¡±

    Mr. Gonzalez looked at my swine for a moment, clearly thinking.  ¡°Makes sense, I suppose.  I wasn¡¯t aware that you sold to the marina.  We don¡¯t have anything to do with them, except to trade for oyster shell powder for soil remediation.¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t buy many, but between fish offal and vegetation and sea life washing up on the coast, swine fatten up pretty nicely there.  If we sell them leash-trained swine, they can just be walked along the coast by kids to let them get a lot of food that people can¡¯t or won¡¯t eat.  The marina master usually buys one for every one of his children in school, every year.¡±

    I finished turning the cart around, carefully watching to make sure I didn¡¯t run over any leashed squealers.  When I finally got us turned around, I clucked and raised the reins and lowered them quickly.  The four sows in trace quickly got us moving to a moderate walking speed.

    Mr. Gonzalez had waited for me to get my team turned around before starting to speak.  ¡°I¡¯ve raised farm pigs.  I was always a bit afraid to feed them fish offal.  No concern about the bones?¡±

    I looked over at him, thinking to myself.  Is that a trick question?

    After looking at my expression for a second, Mr. Gonzalez laughed.  ¡°Hah! Marza is going to have so much fun with you if she can get a reaction from you that easily.¡±  He shook his head.  ¡°I don¡¯t know everything.  Your Granpa and I, we generally talk about important things that we share in common, and family.  I taught him a lot about soil remediation and how to test soil quality, and he taught me a great deal about pests and pest management.  There was a lot of other sharing too, but I never had a need to know about your forest swine, because I don¡¯t raise them.  That doesn¡¯t mean I never wanted to know about them, but there is almost always something more important to do than indulge idle curiosity, no?¡±

    I nodded.  ¡°Yes, sir.¡±  I smiled a bit as I looked up at him on his horse, pacing my cart. I stopped speaking but then realized I hadn¡¯t answered.  ¡°Oh, sorry.  Uncooked fish skeletons aren¡¯t really a problem for swine.  They are smart eaters.  Cooked fish is a different story, the bones are more dangerous when cooked.  I¡¯m almost certain it would be the same for farm pigs.¡±

    ¡°Indeed.¡±  He responded.  ¡°We¡¯ve got an hour and a half or so of road ahead of us, so let¡¯s trade questions?¡±

    ¡°Sure.  What do you want to know about our swine, sir?¡±  I was having a hard time calling him Riko.  It just felt wrong.

    ¡°Farm pigs rarely have stripes like that, but almost all of yours do.  Did you breed the striped markings into them?¡±

    ¡°No sir.  That¡¯s natural.  Most forest swine these days really aren¡¯t forest swine.  They are crossbreeds between forest swine and farm pigs.  The stripes on squealers are protective coloration like white tailed deer fawn have.  Blends into the forest litter.  There¡¯s some farm pig genes in our swine too, but not much.  We trade boars now and then with distant family, but every now and then if we need new blood and we¡¯ll buy striped squealers from farm pig litters.  A squealer with no stripes is almost always going to be a cull.  Stripeless ones almost never take training well, like these three.¡±  I pointed to the three non-striped squealers in the cage.

    He was silent for a minute, nodding.  ¡°How long have your family been breeding them?¡±

    ¡°About three thousand years that we¡¯re sure of, based on records.  Maybe longer.¡±

    Mr. Gonzalez whistled.  ¡°That¡¯s amazing.  You have records that far back?  I don¡¯t have my own family genealogy traced as far back as your swine.¡±  He paused.  ¡°Of course, the records are available if we need them bad enough.¡±  He raised his head a little, sharply, to indicate something overhead, in this case it was clear he meant Albert.  Then he turned back to me.  ¡°Your turn.  Three questions, and then my turn again.¡±

    I thought about it.  ¡°Well, you¡¯ve raised farm pigs so you might have tried this.  Pigs and swine eat so many different types of food.  Is it worth trying to give them special feed if you want to use their manure to target specific soil deficiencies?¡±

    ¡°Very good question.  Give me a moment to think about it.¡±  He looked forward, clearly thinking, and after a couple minutes began an answer.

    For the next twenty kilometers, we talked swine and soil mostly, but a little about genetics and woodworking too.  It was a very good conversation.  It made me feel rather good to be teaching Mr. Gonzalez things he didn¡¯t know, and learning from someone with his knowledge was a treat.

    Eventually we parted ways in town, and I went to the marina master¡¯s home along the river, near where the estuary began.  I sold him four of the smallest culls, for a lot less fisc than I would have preferred.  I was trying to sell them early, and smaller than usual.  He had also, apparently, been talking to the butcher about how much to pay for our swine.  I managed to get him to come up on the price a bit when I reminded him how easy it was to feed them, and that the community was probably going to be buying everything the fishermen could possibly catch for at least the next six months.

    I returned to town, and checked the trade board in front of the central postal office, just in case one of the townsfolk had a note up that they wanted a swine.  We¡¯d sold a few to families in town before.  A small garden of mangels and table scraps would raise a fine cull overwinter.  Mostly they wanted farm pigs that grew very fast though.  Unless they had kids, and then the leash trained squealers were novelty gifts that would eventually make it to the table.  Novelty gifts were much more valuable than butcher meat.

    I was surprised to see that despite the early locust swarm, there was one family that wanted to buy a squealer.  I opened the glass cabinet and pulled out the request, put it in my pocket, and then paid them a visit at the address they had given.

    After a little haggling and proving to the Tanner family that Chuckle would obey their eight-year-old daughter on his leash as well as he obeyed me, I sold Chuckle for twice what I would have gotten for him from the butcher.  Before leaving, I carefully explained that they should never, ever put their hands in Chuckle¡¯s mouth; anything in a swine¡¯s mouth was food until the swine chose to spit it out.  I also made sure they understood that swine did tricks and obeyed commands mostly for food, not loyalty.  I let them know the names of others in town who had recently bought from us, in case they wanted to compare notes, and then left them to their own business.  I delivered the rest of my swine culls to the butcher and he paid standard rates for them.

    By the time I¡¯d sold all my swine, it was very close to midday, according to the town square sundial.  I walked into the bank.

    A nicely dressed young lady who I thought I remembered being two or three years ahead of me in school looked at me and sniffed with a little frown.  I smiled back.  Pa always said that bankers didn¡¯t like the smell of hard work.  He¡¯d also been very clear that they still had to be treated with respect, because one day you might need a loan for a new piece of equipment or a building.

    I led with a smile.  ¡°Hello Ma¡¯am.  How long would it take to set up a new bank account?¡±

    She looked at me and forced herself to smile.  ¡°About thirty minutes young man.¡±

    Thirty minutes?  How many times do they have to count it? I wondered to myself as I shook my head.  ¡°I¡¯ll have to come back after I go speak to the militia officer then.  I don¡¯t have thirty minutes.¡±

    She got a real smile on her face.  ¡°Oh, if you are signing up for an account for your militia pay, the militia officer will create an account for you.¡±  Her relief was so obvious it was funny, and I barely kept myself from laughing at her.

    Letting the militia officer set up an account for me sounded handy, but I wouldn¡¯t get my first pay for a while, I was sure.  The officer would certainly be a very busy man today.  ¡°Will he do that today?  I have fisc to deposit today.¡±

    Her smile faltered, but quickly recovered.  ¡°No, I¡¯m afraid not.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll come back after I speak with the officer then.  Thank you.¡±  Yes, Ms. Necessary Evil, the stinky farmer will be back in your building for thirty minutes later today. I thought to myself with a smile as I walked out the door.  A couple minutes later, I drove my carriage over to the Countyman¡¯s house to find out where to meet the militia officer.

 Chapter 06

    I parked the small cart in front of the Countyman¡¯s home, and gave the four sows hauling the cart another treat after I hopped to the ground.  Every time I got off the cart, I had to give them treats or they would be upset.  I could tell that they were a bit tired too, they¡¯d hauled me and the cart quite a ways.  Giving them each a scratch behind the ears, I examined them all briefly for injury, blisters, sores, or badly fitting harness.  Everyone seemed fine.

    Made plans in my head, I decided to take the team of sows by the river landing before heading back to the farm, to let them drink their fill and maybe eat some acorns if the oaks near the river had started dropping acorns yet.  They would be extremely hungry otherwise, by the time we got back to the farm.  Before tying the reins to the hitching post, I made sure that I parked the cart well inside the gravel area of the Countyman¡¯s driveway.  I didn¡¯t dare let the team of sows onto his lawn or they¡¯d start rooting.  After making sure that I wasn¡¯t setting myself up for some sort of problem, I walked up to the Countyman¡¯s door and knocked.

    A few moments after I knocked, the Countyman answered the door.  He stared at me briefly, and his nose flared slightly.  I chuckled to myself and grinned a little as he shook his head a bit.

    ¡°The Lieutenant is in Cambel¡¯s Inn, in front of the town bath house, Allen.¡±  He lifted a glossy waxed wood paperwork box from his side, opened it, and pulled out a sheet of paper.  ¡°You¡¯ll need this.¡±

    I looked down and read the paper.  ¡®Militia Recruit.  One free hot bath.¡¯  In small print, there was a note below the Countyman¡¯s signature.  ¡®Recruit must pay for soap, if desired.¡¯

    The Countyman laughed at me as I blinked at the paper.  ¡°Go on, Allen.  You don¡¯t have much time even though it¡¯s almost next door.  Tell the Lieutenant you¡¯re reporting for duty before you go do the bath and wash, so he¡¯ll know you¡¯re reporting.¡±

    I looked over at the Inn.  The front of it was crowded with horses and a couple carts.  ¡°Can I leave my team parked here, Countyman?¡±

    The Countyman poked me in the gut with a finger.  ¡°Back up.¡±

    After I took a step back, he took a step forward out the door and looked towards the front of the Inn.  After a glance, he said ¡°Yes.¡±  He looked at my team.  ¡°Leaving them there is fine.  Check the reins though; if they get into the bushes, my wife will be very unhappy with both of us.¡±

    As I turned, I said ¡°Yes, sir.¡± before talking across the porch and down the steps.  The Countyman had asked me to check the reins, so I did, even though I was certain they were tied well.  They were, indeed, secure.

    The Countyman was marking a paper on top of his paperwork box as I turned back towards him.  ¡°Reins are secure, sir.  I¡¯ll be back in a little while.¡±

    He waved at me and nodded.  ¡°Thank you, Allen.¡± He then tucked his paperwork box under his arm, took a step back, and closed the door.

    After a glance back at the Countyman¡¯s house, I decided not to hop the fence.  It was only a few seconds more to walk out to the road, and then along the road to Cambel¡¯s Inn.

    Cambel¡¯s was the larger of the two inns in town, with rooms to rent on a second story rather than simply being a place for people to eat and drink.  They never bought swine directly, because they had rooms to rent, and most people with money to stay in rented rooms weren¡¯t used to the noises pigs made.  That¡¯s how it was explained to me, anyway.  It made some sense ¨C I¡¯d probably not be able to sleep well if I were travelling and stayed in a room near a glassworks.

    As I walked up the stairs to the entrance to the inn, three older men who I barely knew walked out.  They were talking amongst themselves quietly, and I carefully didn¡¯t listen in or give the impression of trying.  I did nod to them politely.  They, in turn, nodded to me as we walked past each other.  I did overhear a couple words about getting ready and warm clothing, so I assumed they were probably recruits like me.

    I entered the inn as the scent of chicken and potatoes drifted past me, and looked to the right where the eating tables and the little musician¡¯s stage were.  As I expected, the recruiter was seated there, easily identifiable because he had several piles of paper in front of him, each with a small rock on top.  No merchant with any sense would have that much paper scattered around them in a common room where they might be ruined by spilled food or drink, and he was wearing odd, new-looking clothes.  Grey pants and a grey shirt, with black boots.  There were a couple men near him filling in paperwork.

    I walked over to the man that had to be the Lieutenant, and he looked up at me and frowned as he watched me approach.  I watched his eyes move up and down, clearly assessing me, and his expression relaxed into a neutral expression before he asked, ¡°You are here to enlist?¡±

    ¡°I am, sir.¡± I replied, stopping in front of him.

    ¡°Name?¡±

    ¡°Allen Rickson¡±

    ¡°Homestead?¡±

    ¡°North Road Rickson Farmstead, at marker twenty-one, sir.¡±

    He picked up a sheet of paper and put his finger on a spot on the page, and made a mark with a pencil.

    His eyes narrowed as he looked at me closer.  ¡°You can carry half your weight, or thirty kilos?¡±

    I bristled a bit at his disbelieving tone, but forced myself to relax.  It wasn¡¯t like he was the first person to think I was weak because I was thin.  ¡°Yes, sir.  I can carry half my weight, sir, which would be more than thirty kilos.¡±

    He looked me up and down again.  ¡°All day?  Can you run?¡±

    That was like a slap in the face to me, and I struggled to keep from mouthing off to him.

    There wasn¡¯t any fear on his face as he pushed himself a little back from the table with a brief squeak of his chair on the floor.  He locked eyes with me, and I knew for certain that I wasn¡¯t looking very happy.  I relaxed my hands and shoulders, closed my eyes, and counted back from five to one, saying nothing.  I opened my eyes looked over his shoulder.

    There was some subdued chuckling from the men filling out paperwork around the Lieutenant.

    The Lieutenant¡¯s eyes darted from me to the men who were now all watching me and the Lieutenant.  ¡°OK, local humor.¡±  He pointed at Ed Glot, one of the fishermen we sold corn to fairly regularly.  ¡°Talk to me, what¡¯s funny?¡±

    Ed looked back at the Lieutenant with a grin.  ¡°That Rickson boy in front of you can run a bit, sir.  Just a bit.¡±  He leaned back in his chair a little as the other men around us chuckled.

    I didn¡¯t need anyone to talk for me, but getting the Lieutenant¡¯s eyes off me was something to be thankful for.  I carefully spoke.  ¡°I can run, sir.  Better than anyone else near here I know of, including the local messenger guild runners.¡±  I then realized how prideful I had sounded.  Pa would be upset, so I added something depreciating about myself.  ¡°There are a lot of people faster in a sprint than me though, sir.¡±

    The Lieutenant watched me, but he was also obviously watching the others around us react to my statement.  The muttering of agreement and a couple chuckles seemed to satisfy him.

    I had relaxed a bit, and the Lieutenant nodded.  OK, go get washed up.  The Countyman gave you a bath coupon?

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±

    ¡°OK, another Lieutenant in the bath house will inspect and test you after you bathe to make sure you don¡¯t have any obvious problems that will keep you from keeping up in a march.  Do what she says.¡±

    He shook a handful of red and green glass pieces out of a bag into his hand, and picked one red and one green piece out, handing them both to me.  ¡°Give her these tokens.  After you get inspected, put your clothes back on, return here, and give me the token she gives back to you.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±

    He smiled.  ¡°Go.  Don¡¯t dawdle.  The Captain needs to speak to everyone today.  He¡¯s going to do that in a little more than an hour, and you still need to do paperwork.¡±  Tell the Lieutenant in the bath house that you are the last one before we get ready for the Captain¡¯s talk.

    I nodded my head, turned and went, walking quickly but not running inside.  When I left the building, I ran across the street towards the bath house.

    I¡¯d never been inside the bath house before.  Like any other farm family, my family usually bathed at the end of every day on the farm so we wouldn¡¯t soil the bedclothes.  Instead of immersing ourselves in water, we heated water on the stove. That heated water was poured into the bathroom washbasin, and we would then wash with sponges.  You could completely immerse yourself in water in the bath house, like a hot water pond.  It wasn¡¯t free though, and it was twenty-one kilometers from the farm.  A town luxury.  I¡¯d asked the butcher how much it cost once when I saw him come out, and he¡¯d told me.  Paying a whole fisc for seven bath coupons was just crazy.  I¡¯d take one for free though, and looked forward to the new experience.

    As I crossed the street, I looked over at the hothouse next to the bath house.  We had taken a class trip to see how the system worked when we were studying basic solar energy in third year.  I looked at the glass half-cylinder on top of straight glass walls, remembering how it worked.  The building was raised on a heavy stone block base two meters tall, five meters wide, and ten meters long, with the long axis running east to west.  The cistern stones were covered with black mortar inside and out, a type of mortar that had a layer of powdered charcoal pressed into the surface before it dried.  Black mortar was cheap and easy to make, and it absorbed solar energy quite nicely, though it was only good for surfacing, and had to be replaced every few years.

    My eyes raised a little, and I looked at the large grid of clear glass plates in heavy wooden frames rising straight up from the cistern wall.  The wooden frame and plates of glass curved across the top of the hothouse where the tile roof of a normal house would be.  I remembered from class that every individual glass plate had a series of divots along the thickest edge, indicating the angle of the prism.  At different times of year, the glass plates would be carefully removed from their mountings and moved to different mountings, so that the prism effect of the glass would concentrate more light into the black cistern.  It was, essentially, a large, simple Fresnel lens, but much, much smaller than the ones used to smelt glass.  It heated the bath house¡¯s water without need for fuel.  Water was added manually, as required, from a cistern, to replace spillage and evaporation.

    I¡¯d love to have a hothouse like that for bathwater at the farm, I thought to myself.  By the time all the dreams and memories had wandered through my head, I had finished crossing the yard and was standing in front of Kirk, the bath house attendant, handing him the coupon from the Countyman.  I knew Kirk, but didn¡¯t know him well; he was a year behind me in school, and lived in town.  His parents owned the bath house, and sold candles, fragrances, specialty oils, and dyes out of their home.  We got our neatsfoot oil from them for leather maintenance.

    ¡°Hello, Allen.¡± He said as he took the coupon.  ¡°Want some soap?¡±

    Soap would be expensive, and I knew it.  I didn¡¯t even bother asking for a price.  ¡°No thanks, Kirk.¡±

    My family made our own soap, typically from beef tallow and castor oil that we traded for, with a little bit of olive oil if we could get it cheap.  Soap was annoying and time consuming to make because making the lye required care.  Lye was unforgiving, causing severe burns quickly on the skin and would do horrible things to the lungs if you breathed too much of it.  We only made lye and soap in the smokehouse with its walls opened up, and Molly and Abe were kept away when it was being made.  Granpa usually carried leather tack out to repair when he made soap, and watched Abe and Molly weed and pick the garden beside the house as well.

    Kirk shook the bucket he was holding out in front of me.  ¡°Allen. Here.  You¡¯ll need this.¡±

    I shook my head.  I needed to hurry, not daydream.  ¡°Sorry, Kirk, lost in thought.¡±

    Kirk handed me a bucket and pointed to the blue token in it that I should keep with me at all times in the bath house.  Then he walked me into the back, pointing to the right into one of several identical-looking alcoves.  ¡°Wash there with a brush to clean off most of the dirt, please.¡±

    The floor was angled slightly towards the exterior wall of the building, to a channel cut in the stone.  Kirk showed me how the hand-pump worked, which was a bit silly, because hand pumps were hand pumps and everyone knew how to work them.  At the same time, that wasn¡¯t all he explained.  I¡¯d never been in the bath house before, so I was grateful for the step-by-step instruction.  The clarity and precision of his description of the bath house rules and how to use the equipment made it obvious that it was something he had memorized for new customers.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°Thanks, Kirk.¡±

    He gave a little grin.  ¡°No problem.¡±  If he wasn¡¯t genuinely happy, he was hiding it well.  The bank could do worse than sending their employees to the bath house to learn manners.  I kept my mouth shut after thanking him though, saying something like that might get around.  Two other people had shown blue tokens to Kirk as they walked in, and nodded politely as they walked out.

    I transferred the blue token into my swine treat bag, pumped some hot water into the bucket, stripped off my clothes into a pile, carefully set my swine treat bag to the side, and then double-checked to make sure the oiled leather bag was cinched tight.  There was nearly fifty fisc, the bath token, and the recruiter¡¯s two glass pieces in it.

    After cinching the bag, I used the horsehair brush to give myself a quick scrub with the hot water in the bucket.  After I was done scrubbing myself, I put the brush back on the shelf, tossed my clothes in the bucket and topped it off with a little more hot water.  I wrapped the towel I¡¯d been given around my waist before taking the bucket in one hand, my bag in the other, and walking out into the main bath area.

    The main bath was a rounded rectangular steaming cistern of water countersunk into the floor in front of me, steps leading down into the water from all four sides, seats around the sides.  A few people lounged, and I saw a man and a woman who seemed to be hurrying like I needed to.  I stirred my clothes in the bucket vigorously, pulled them out, and ran them through a clothes wringer.  They weren¡¯t going to be clean that way, but they would certainly be a lot less dirty.  I set the clothes on a drying rack next to an oven that had a pot of something that smelled really good on top of it.  Cinnamon was definitely part of it, but there were other scents I didn¡¯t know.

    I dumped the bucket into the wall-drain, stacked it upside-down next to the oven with the other buckets, and walked over to the side of the bath and racked my towel and bag there, directly behind where I would be sitting, within easy arm¡¯s length.

    I walked carefully on the warm, moist stone, and carefully walked down the stairs into the very hot water.  If there weren¡¯t fourteen people in the water already, I wouldn¡¯t have gone in at all.  Their example proved that other people obviously could and did deal with the temperature, I forced myself to slowly enter the water.  A couple people looked at me appraisingly, and I ignored them.  I frequently got odd looks when I took off my shirt in hot weather around people who weren¡¯t my family.  Some of my classmates had teased me once and said I looked like someone forgot the muscles when they put me together, and decided to just use tendons instead.

    I sighed to myself as I finally made it all the way to the bottom of the steps.  A bit over belly-button deep, and it was starting to feel very good.  I waded over to the spot in front of where I¡¯d put my towel and bag, and took a deep breath before dropping to my knees and ducked my head forward into the water, completely immersing myself, like as if I were swimming in the pond.  The heat was thrilling.  I¡¯d never felt anything like it, and came up with a big grin on my face.

    As I started to rub my skin all over my body to help stretch and open the pores like Kirk had mentioned, I thought to myself.  If I lived close enough to town to do this regularly, I¡¯d do it as often as I could afford to.  Marza would certainly appreciate it too, I''d bet.

    Looking around, I could see that there were several couples chatting with each other.  No heavy petting or anything though, which I was glad for.  I¡¯d been half afraid there might be some really embarrassing activities happening, but I didn¡¯t see any sign of it.  I didn¡¯t look for it too closely either.

    As I scrubbed myself, I considered different ways I might be able to make a tiny bathhouse like this out of materials that wouldn¡¯t require so much maintenance.  I didn¡¯t want to try to make something wood-burning, because a simple house oven used a lot of wood already.  Putting the house stove outdoors wouldn¡¯t work because the waste heat from the oven helped take the edge off the cold in the house during the winter.  After a little thought, I decided it would be inefficient, but I could probably do it with regular stone ¨C double-walled but with standard glass, like an herb garden greenhouse.  It wouldn¡¯t be this hot, but I was fairly sure it would be pretty warm.

    I snorted to myself.  Stop dreaming, Allen.  For at least the first five years, when you aren¡¯t farming, you¡¯ll be building barns, locust-proof storage, and improving the house.  If there¡¯s wooded land, you¡¯ll be ringing trees, lumbering, and burning stumps for years to make more fields.  Especially if you get a large tract of unimproved land.

    Even though I knew the sheer amount of labor required to build even a small bath house and hothouse would be simply impossible for years at least, I resolved to do the design one day.  Design could be done by lamp light, and planning something like that would be something fun that Marza and I could do when it was the wrong time to do other things before bed.

    Those sorts of thoughts were not what I needed to be thinking about in a public bath, so I dragged my thoughts out of the ditch and dipped my head under water one more time, scrubbing my scalp and face again.

    Regretfully, I made my way out of the heated water, and shivered.  Violently.  I¡¯d never bathed in water that hot, and coming out of the bath into the air was far colder than I imagined it could be.  I barely kept my knees from knocking together as I walked to the rack behind where I had been in the water, and snagged the towel off of it, rapidly rubbing it over my body to dry off.  Then I collected my bag and walked over to the little clothes-drying oven and discovered my clothes were still wet.  I turned the clothes around so the wetter side would be facing the oven, and looked around for the other Lieutenant.

    I didn¡¯t have to look long; there were two other people in towels standing in front of a woman sitting on a bench against the wall.  She was watching me, and when I looked her way, she beckoned to me.  She didn¡¯t have any papers with her, but she was wearing the same style clothing as the other Lieutenant.  Grey shirt and grey pants, with black boots.  There was a wide-brim leather hat on the bench next to her.

    The woman and man standing in front of her were also only wearing towels around their waists.  I checked that my towel was secure, and walked over to her, carrying my pouch in my left hand and securing the towel with my right.

    ¡°You¡¯re a recruit?¡± She asked, politely, her eyes looking me up and down as I approached.

    ¡°I am, ma¡¯am.¡± I answered, nodding. ¡°The Lieutenant in the inn said to tell you I was the last before the Captain¡¯s talk.¡±

    She nodded politely to me.  ¡°Thank you for letting me know.¡±  Then she centered her gaze on the three of us.  ¡°I¡¯m going to ask you to do some basic stretches and movements while carrying some weights.  Sorry to have to ask you to parade in front of me like cattle at an auction, but if you¡¯ve got health problems that I can spot here, we won¡¯t have to worry about you slowing us down when we deploy.¡±  She paused.  ¡°Do you understand?¡±

    It made sense to me.  ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡± I replied as the man and woman beside me did the same.

    I recognized the features of the faces of the man and woman beside me, they were clearly from larger south side families.  He looked like he was from the Nogon family and she looked to be part of the Moncrefs, but I didn¡¯t know their names.  They were both young, but obviously older than me by several years.

    While the Lieutenant talked to us, explaining the exercises we¡¯d do, I started wondering why I hadn¡¯t seen any of my classmates.  Not that I wanted to see more of my classmates, considering what I was here for, but it sounded like the Countyman was trying to gather people who were fifteen because we could fight without having to worry about being sent off to prison.  My class had been only twenty people though, and as I went through the list of them in my head, I realized they almost all came from large families.

    Well, that explains it then.  Good for them, if they can get out of this.

    An annoyed voice snapped me out of my thoughts.  ¡°I said, fold your towel and put it and your bag on the bench, young man.¡±  The Lieutenant was standing in front of me, looking at me.

    ¡°Oh, sorry, ma¡¯am.¡±  I removed the towel, folded it, and set it on top of my pouch, hiding it from casual view.

    For the next few minutes, we paraded back and forth without a stitch on, and then did stretching exercises while carrying five-kilo weights in each hand.  Five kilos isn¡¯t much, but carrying two five-kilo weights while doing stretching exercises was a lot harder than I expected it to be.  The others didn¡¯t seem to be have nearly as much trouble with it as I did.  That wasn¡¯t unexpected, really; I¡¯d never been that strong, and I had arms quite a bit longer than the man¡¯s and a lot longer than the woman¡¯s.

    The Lieutenant seemed happy with us when she we finished the stretches, but only said ¡°Looks like you¡¯ve got all the parts we need you to have, and in good working order.  Each of you, give me your red token, get dressed, and go give your green tokens to the Lieutenant in the inn.¡±

    She then took back the weights from us, placed them in a heavy-duty leather backpack with a few more like it, and heaved the pack over her left shoulder with a slight grunt of exertion.  All three of us did as we were told and gave her the red tokens before walking back to our clothes at the drying oven.

    The other two apparently knew each other and chatted a little as we all quickly got dressed.  I didn¡¯t try to involve myself in their conversation, since I didn¡¯t know them.  That let me get ready a bit faster than them.

    Since the other two had been talking to one another, I finished dressing first.  I walked out of the bath house, gave Kirk the blue token back, and headed back across to the inn.  My clothes were still a little wet, but dry enough that I wasn¡¯t uncomfortable.  I walked into the inn, found the male Lieutenant, and gave him the green glass token.

    He looked up at me.  ¡°Anyone else still over there?¡±

    ¡°Two others were tested with me, sir.  They should be here soon.¡±

    As I finished that, almost like they were waiting for me to say it, the other two walked in.

    After a short explanation of what we needed to fill out and how, all three of us started filling out paperwork.  While we were filling out our paperwork, the Lieutenant sorted through his own paperwork, occasionally marking here and there.

    When we completed our paperwork, the Lieutenant collected it and all the rest, stacking it all in a document box.  His box was waxed wood like the Countyman¡¯s, but much bigger, probably three inches thick, and it was full enough that a thin rope had to be used to bind it closed.  He then put the box in a waxed leather bag, and the bag went into a backpack, which he slung over his shoulder as he told us to follow him.

    ¡°OK, the Captain tells the Lieutenants what to do, and we tell you what to do.  That¡¯s called chain of command.  We¡¯ll go over it a lot more as we travel to the border, but what I want you to understand is this.  Captain Marko will speak.  You will not.  Do you understand?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± We all replied as we trailed behind him, walking towards the town square.

    ¡°What if we have questions?¡± I asked.

    The Lieutenant nodded.  ¡°You will have questions.  The Captain will not answer them, we will.  ¡®We¡¯ being defined as myself, Lieutenant Davis, and the other Lieutenant who tested you in the bath house.  Her name is Lieutenant Baker.  We will give you an opportunity to ask questions of us when he is done speaking.  If you ask questions we don¡¯t have answers for, and they are relevant, we¡¯ll get answers from him.  The stack of paperwork you just saw me dealing with is nothing compared to what the Captain has to process.  Still, the talk he¡¯s about to give is critical to our success.¡±

    It sounded like the military worked a lot like a big farm, like Marza¡¯s family farm.  One person gave the orders to a couple others, who made sure that whatever needed to happen got done.  I had a lot of questions about what we were going to do, and hoped that what the Captain had to say would provide at least some answers.

 Chapter 07

    "Most of you aren''t idiots." Captain Marko said without preamble, only moments after stepping up to the speaking podium in the town square.  "That being said, statistically, some of you are very likely to scrape the bottom of the intelligence curve, so I need to make this clear."  He looked out over us, his head turning a little from side to side.

    After making sure he had our attention, he continued.  "We have extensive records of the old wars, and one of the common misconceptions recruits have is that Albert might take some sort of action to prevent a war.  He will not.  Albert fully understands that there will be conflict between humans.  He only cares if we resolve that conflict with violence done to others with intent to harm."  He paused.  "At the same time, even idiots know that adults who start conflict with the intent to do harm three times will go to one of the prison colonies.  There are probably quite a few of you who plan to disappear as soon as it looks like we might actually have to resort to violence.  I must address this now, and nip in in the bud so the idea doesn''t take root."

    "Take a look at the man or woman next to you."  The captain commanded us, and then he paused to give us time to do as he asked.  I was standing next to Riko, and we looked at each other briefly, and then back to the captain.

    After people were watching him again, Captain Marko continued.  "Since we haven''t formed you into any groupings yet, you''ve probably chosen to stand next to someone you know.  That''s important, because people you know matter more.  We like to think that we''d be nice to strangers, but in reality, friends and family come first.  A bunch of people who we don''t know in New Tokyo will need a lot of food to feed themselves, their friends, and their families this winter, thanks to the locusts.  They are extremely unlikely to get a good harvest from a late planting this year, as they are farther north.  They will need to get food from somewhere to feed their friends and families."

    There was a muttering through the crowd, and I heard Second Landing mentioned several times.

    The captain picked up on that.  "Yes, Second Landing is refusing to sell their grain at a reasonable rate.  We aren''t exactly certain what they are doing, but it appears to be political.  We suspect that they might be planning some sort of long term annexation of New Tokyo."

    That was shocking enough to me that I barely noticed other people muttering.  The states had been defined since the colony was first established.

    "New Charleston as a state fared better.  We have enough food to get us through the winter, but it will be a lean year.  Most of the other states fall between having barely enough, and almost nothing.  New Ecuador to our south is in a situation a lot like ours, looking at a lean winter.  Unlike New Tokyo, however, they are almost guaranteed another harvest this year, since they are farther south and have a bit longer of a growing season.  New Ecuador is not mobilizing their militia.  Second Landing is also mobilizing though, and they have a greater population than both New Tokyo and us, combined."

    "What all this means is that New Tokyo is going to be forced to try to take food from strangers.  Those strangers will be us, and we can''t afford to give or sell that food that your families will need for this winter.  If you desert, your family and neighbors may well starve this winter.  You might think that spending a few years in jail for desertion is worth being safe from going to prison permanently.  I agree with that, honestly."

    After he said that, we were all confused.  At least I was, and there were a lot of people muttering again.  When I looked to Riko, he was nodding, but said nothing and didn''t seem concerned.

    Captain Marko was watching us muttering, while nodding slightly.  As we quieted, he spoke again, his tone very serious.  "That''s not the whole cost though.  Sure, you spend a few years in jail for desertion, and there''s no chance you will go to the prison colonies, but..."  He paused, and I could feel people listening.  "If you desert, New Tokyo militia members will take the food, animals, and fishing boats from your family and neighbors to feed their family and neighbors.  We aren''t asking you to risk being sent to the prison colony for something intangible.  If you desert, your family, friends, and neighbors may well starve to death."

    Everyone went silent.  I hadn''t been considering running away, but I''m sure I would have considered it as we got closer to a fight.  I was glad that the captain had taken the time to explain in a way that tied it to family.  Mental images of Abe and Molly starving made me shake my head.  There was absolutely no way I''d run now.

    After he let us digest that for a few seconds, Captain Marko continued.  "Having said that, we''re going to do our best to avoid hurting anyone.  New Tokyo will need wagons and draft animals to move enough food to make a difference.  Those are going to be our primary targets, not people."  His tone got very serious.  "If we are pressed hard, we may be forced to hurt people, but that''s the last resort."

    I was certainly relieved to hear that, and based on the sounds others around me were making, I wasn''t the only one.

    Captain Marko''s face relaxed as he heard our reaction, which probably meant we were reacting the way he had wanted us to.  His obvious relief made me remember that he was just as new to this as the rest of us, he just had an education about military matters that we didn''t.

    "On that note, ladies and gentlemen, it''s time for me to go deal with correspondence from dozens of people who are trying to help us get organized and equipped."  He turned to his left where the two lieutenants had been standing.  "I leave you to my lieutenants.  They will organize you, answer questions, and advise you as to what you should attempt to bring with you, and what you should not."  He placed his right hand over the center of his chest and bowed slightly to us, turned, and walked around us to the street, turning towards Cambel''s Inn. Presumably, he and the two lieutenants were staying there.

    As he passed Riko and me, I noted that the captain was fit and muscular, but not a big man.  His blonde hair was shot through with grey, and cut just long enough to tie it all back with a leather tie.  His face was wide from top to bottom, with a widow''s peak and a prominent, broad chin.

    "OK everyone, eyes on me, please."  Lieutenant Baker was standing at the podium, and as we all gave her our attention, she spoke again.  "Any of you who can ride a horse, and are good stalking bow hunters, come with me.  I lead the scouts.  As the captain said, our targets are going to be draft animals and wagons.  I need the people with the skills to move quietly and kill animals accurately from a distance.  Do not come with me if you are not quiet in the woods and good with a bow.  I''m counting on you to know each other as a group.  Anyone who comes with me who knows that another person trying to join the scouts is unskilled with a bow or with stalk-hunting, tell me."  She paused.  "We scouts will be moving tonight, travelling fast and light, because New Tokyo may very well be rushing to get wagons and draft teams across the border.  The militia will provide riding horses and two remounts for each of us.  If you walked into town, we will provide a horse for you to go get your own bows, arrows, and spare clothing.  We have plenty of arrows and fletching equipment as well."

    Someone on the other side of the group raised their hand.  Whoever it was, they were too short for me to see them over the people near them.

    Lieutenant Baker pointed towards the raised hand, and said "Ask your question."

    "What about slingers?"  A female voice that I didn''t recognize.

    The lieutenant thought for a second.  "Can you reliably kill a deer with a sling at thirty meters or more?"

    The woman answered after a moment.  "Probably not, I usually hunt smaller game, but I can damn sure scare the hell out of a horse or elefant at that range.  Panicking draft animals destroy harness and wagons, and frequently injure themselves doing it.  Also, slingers don''t run out of arrows."

    After a moment, the lieutenant nodded.  "Sounds good.  Slingers are welcome too, but you have to be accurate."  She looked away from the speaker, centering her gaze on us.  "Any other questions related to scouts?"

    "What about atlatls?"  That was Carver Hershel speaking.  One of the middle sons of our neighbor.  I was curious.  I''d never heard of an atlatl before.

    Riko cocked his head a little, seeming very interested, and turned to face Carver.

    "What is an atlatl?" The lieutenant asked, which made me feel a lot better.

    "It''s a spear thrower, ma''am.  I can throw a light spear a very long ways.  Farther than a bowman can shoot.  I made it in school as a project and can hunt with it, but rarely do.  It''s overkill on deer.  If we might have to kill elefants though, I can hit a lot harder with it than anyone''s going to hit with a bow."

    As much as it pained me to think about killing an animal as intelligent as an elefant, Carver had a point.  Teak had several massive scars the size of my arm on her left side where she had been wounded.  When I had asked him about them, Donal told me how the wounds had happened.  A tree had fallen on her, and broken branches had ripped huge gashes and punctures in her side that a man could put a hand into.  In fact, after Teak had been sedated with enough opium to kill a dozen men, an elefant veterinarian had literally reached into the wounds to make sure that all of the splinters and bark were removed.  Donal had said that the wounds would have probably killed Teak from infection in the wild, but with medical care she had been capable of hauling logs after three months. After six months she had been allowed to lift heavy logs again.  She and Donal had continued logging for another twenty years after the accident, before being retired out of logging and moved into road maintenance.

    Again, Lieutenant Baker paused a moment, and then nodded.  "If you can move quietly and shoot a bow, then I want you to bring your atlatl and spears as well as your bow.  I won''t guarantee we''ll have a use for them, but I''d like to see what they can do."

    There weren''t any more questions, and Lieutenant Baker and about fifteen people out of the fifty or so of us that had arrived left.  Riko was one of them.  I wasn''t.  I was an accurate slinger, and could hit a full-sized rabbit at twenty meters fairly reliably, but I was not quiet in the woods.

    I overheard Lieutenant Baker start to address individuals, asking who would vouch for each of them as a competent stalker and good with a bow.  Nobody came back to the main group, and a couple minutes later she walked them all back to the inn to talk to them about what they needed to go get.

    Lieutenant Davis had waited for Lieutenant Baker to quickly vet her scouts.  When they started walking away, he spoke.  "OK, for the rest of us, we''ll be split into three groups.  We need people who can find food in the woods, and people that are strong workers.  If you aren''t either of those things, we''ll attach you to the quartermasters.  If nothing else, you can help haul firewood, prepare food, or do laundry.  Everyone in this group will learn to use a long spear.  We hope to never need you to use it, but you will learn some basics.  If someone has to die as we protect our friends and family, I''d rather it not be any of us."

    There was some uncomfortable muttering at that statement, so I wasn''t alone in being nervous about taking up a weapon and learning to use it to kill other people.

    "I''m not going to try to split you up by skills yet."  The lieutenant continued.  "If you claim to be good foragers, and anyone else supports you, I will allow you to try to prove it.  After spear training in the morning, the best foragers will go into the forest, and the rest will work in camp.  Our camp will be half a mile from the border.  Elevation maps indicate that the road is straight at that point, and we should be able to see the border clearly from that distance.  The scouts will range from side to side in front of us along the border, making sorties in to kill draft animals and damage wagons."  He paused.  "It''s not that simple, but that''s the gist of it.  Do you have any questions?"

    I did.  I hesitantly raised my hand.  I really wasn''t sure I wanted to ask the question, but if it came down to it, family came first.  I could be useful with my sounder and boars as a forager, and if I took my swine with me, my family wouldn''t have to feed them.

    The lieutenant pointed at me.  "Ask the question."

    "Can I bring trained animals with me, sir?  I forage a lot in the woods with my sounder.  When we find human-edible forest mast in sufficient quantity that they are worth collecting, my boars and I can hail it out by travois.  Acorns and other nuts, seasonal fruits and berries, and cattails are easy enough to find around here."

    "What is a sounder?"  The lieutenant asked, curiously.

    Obviously from the city, if there was any doubt before now, I thought to myself before answering.  "That''s a group of swine, sir."

    "You take pigs out into the forest and they help you find food?"  He asked, a little incredulously.

    "Yes, sir.  They do." I replied, trying not to sound irritated.  "I can command them to find specific foods if I have a sample to offer them.  Normally though, I simply look for forest mast alongside them.  Because the boars are powerful enough to haul a lot of weight, I can gather a great deal of food before returning.  Between the boars and myself, we can haul about two hundred kilos of food out of the woods.  On a good day, I can gather that much this time of year if we find a bunch of oaks, fruit trees, or a pond with a bunch of cattails.  I didn''t go with the scouts because I''m not quiet in the woods.  I''m very good at finding forest mast, but swine aren''t quiet animals, so I never bothered learning how to be."

    The lieutenant nodded.  "I want to talk to you again before you return home today."  He paused a moment.  "Allen, was it?"

    "Yes sir, Allen Rickson.  I''ll speak to you again when we''re done here."

    The lieutenant spoke to us about bringing clothing and spare footgear if we had it.  The militia would supply ground cloths, tents, and bedding.  If we had missile weapons we were accurate with, we were to bring them.  If we were craftsmen, and we could take tools without leaving our households unable to function, we should speak to the lieutenant about what skills we had and what tools we could bring.  Nobody was to bring more than twenty kilos of personal gear.  Nobody should carry food - the militia would supply beans and rice plus whatever we could forage.

    When the Lieutenant finished with us, he sent everyone but me and four crafters to the inn to get backpacks from the other lieutenant, and admonished everyone that everything they brought should fit in the top part of the pack, leaving the bottom empty for militia-supplied gear.

    A leatherworker and a tailor were quickly advised to bring their tools, and the militia would purchase their utilitarian stocks at a standard rate if the quartermasters hadn''t already bought them.  The militia wouldn''t pay for exotic leather or cloth.  A cooper was next, and was quickly told to bring her tools, and again, the militia would buy all of her stock at standard rates if she had any remaining stock.  The last crafter was a tanner.  His most important tools were large and cumbersome, and would not be able to be brought.  He would, however, be allowed to bring a lot of ropes that he could use to set up stretching racks between trees.

    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    The lieutenant seemed mostly uninterested in the idea of a tanner setting up a full shop, and said so.  "Your trade doesn''t produce anything immediately useful.  It would be more efficient for us to collect hides, and ship them to a tanner with an established facility than it would be to build your own.  We will let you treat hides so they won''t rot on the way to the tannery, but you won''t be processing them into leather unless we end up with a lot of extra labor to build a tannery.  Labor will be in short supply, since we''ll be building cabins and preparing to winter along the road."

    When the tanner seemed disappointed, the lieutenant cheered him up by telling him that, like the other crafters, the militia would purchase all of his available non-exotic stock for standard rates.  Then it was my turn to make my case.

    "Allen, walk by me back to the Inn, we''ll talk on the way."

    "Yes, sir."  I walked beside him and matched his pace.

    In a patient voice, the lieutenant spoke. "Allen, I want to be very clear here.  I know pigs are smart enough to learn tricks, but I''ve never heard of trained pigs doing useful work.  If you bring your pigs and they are a drain on our resources, they will be slaughtered for food."

    I had been expecting this conversation, so I only got a little upset at the bluntness of the threat.  "Sir, my family have literally been breeding forest swine for intelligence and tractability for thousands of years.  Even though we do breed them with farm pigs now and then to keep from inbreeding, any swine we keep are far and away more intelligent than most dogs.  A very smart dog might be close, but most dogs are dull in comparison to our swine."

    The lieutenant looked skeptical, but nodded.  "Will you be able to keep them under control in camp?  The only restraints we can reliably offer are reins or neck leads, like we would use for horses or cattle."

    Granpa said it was mine, I hope he doesn''t get upset.  "My swine will accept restraints, but they are normally penned.  I have a carriage that can have the sides converted into a pen under the carriage in a few minutes time."

    "You have draft animals to haul the carriage?  Carriages aren''t efficient for hauling cargo, we won''t give you draft animals."

    "It''s a small, light carriage, sir.  My larger swine can haul it.  I won''t need draft animals."

    "Allen, I''ll be honest with you, I want to say no.  The border is very wild, and we won''t be able to send anyone into the woods to guard you if something wants to attack your pigs."

    I held my tongue, despite thinking, I''m the experienced swine trainer here and I''ve been saying swine, and you keep saying pigs.  Why?

    "There isn''t much around here that will attack a group of swine, sir.  Swine are very capable of defending themselves.  Even the largest black bears will normally avoid a sounder.  Most predators wouldn''t hesitate to take a squeaker, but..."

    "A what?"  He paused.  "Never mind.  Small pig, right?"

    Swine, not pig, I thought to myself.  "Yes, a small swine, sir.  Sorry if it might seem pedantic, but my family has been improving the bloodlines on our swine for a very long time.  We differentiate between forest swine and farm pigs.  Like dogs, mutts can breed with purebreds, but if you call a purebred a mutt in front of a dog breeder, they are probably going to correct you."

    The lieutenant chuckled under his breath.  "I''ll try to remember, Allen, and it sounds like your... forest swine are a lot more like a pack of trained dogs than a bunch of... farm pigs."  He looked at me, and I smiled back at him for getting the words right.  Then he continued, looking up and to his left me straight in the eye as we walked.  "If I ask the Countyman, will he support your statements about what your swine can do?"

    "He will, sir.  In fact, I have four of my swine hitched to a small cart in front of his house now.  The front of the Inn was a bit crowded, and I''d rather not risk putting them too close to horses when they are in harness."

    "Do your swine not like horses?  That would be a problem."

    "That''s not it, sir.  A horse might injure them in a press of animals.  A bunch of horses side by side won''t hurt each other, but forest swine are just a lot smaller than horses, and if they are hitched, they can''t stay out of the way."

    The lieutenant nodded.  I can see that.  "We got off track a minute ago.  You say that swine usually aren''t bothered by predators if they are in a group?"

    I backtracked in my mind to where the conversation had diverged.  "Yes sir.  Swine are very powerful for their size, and boars especially, are extremely tough.  Anyone who hunts feral farm pigs or forest swine will tell you that a man on the ground with an angry adult boar is dead if they don''t have a long spear and know how to use it very well."

    I looked at the lieutenant, and he nodded, saying "Yes, I''ve heard that boar hunting is dangerous."

    I was grateful that he at least knew that much.  Even farm pigs are a lot better able to take care of themselves than most people think.  "Most predators won''t stand up to a sounder of forest swine.  They will chase predators off fresh kills or corpses."

    "Really?  I''ve never heard that pigs..."  He paused.  "swine, would eat meat."

    "Yes, sir.  Swine will eat anything we will, and then some that we won''t, sir.  I don''t think there''s a vertebrate alive that can eat the same range of foods as a pig.  They will eat grass, roots, corm, bark, bones, and anything humans can eat too."  I paused.  "On a couple occasions last year, I commanded my boars to chase mountain lions away from fresh deer kills.  Two adult boars against one mountain lion was a certain win for the boars every time, and the lions knew it."

    "You can command them to attack?  Why did you teach them that?"  He sounded very interested.

    "A boar is a hell of a lot tougher than me, sir.  I''d prefer to count on them in the woods."  Then I realized what he might be thinking.  "I wouldn''t try to send a boar against a horse or draft animal, sir.  Even a pony outweighs my boars by a lot, and they can kick very hard.  I''d probably lose a boar and only lame a single draft animal, if that.  I''d send my boars against a black bear before I''d send them against a draft animal."

    The lieutenant nodded.  "Makes sense, I suppose." He responded.  "Go on?  What about bears?  I know there are bears around here."

    "We leave bears alone, because a single blow from the paw of a large adult black bear can break even a two hundred kilo boar''s neck.  At the same time, bears normally leave healthy adult boars alone, because a boar can rip them up bad with tusks.  The only thing I''m worried about in the woods is a big pack of wolves, and I''m not terribly concerned about them either.  I have a sling, and I''m good with it.  My swine trust me, and I''ve trained with them using predator pelts.  If they smell a predator, they will quickly return to me, bump my legs, and then face in the direction of the danger.  Then they will stay around me until I command them to stop circling me.  I haven''t lost any of my swine to a predator yet, but it will probably happen sooner or later.  Squeakers are light enough to be dragged away and big enough to be solid meals for solitary mountain lions and wolves."

    We were in front of the inn now, and walked up the stairs to the entrance.  The lieutenant looked over at the Countyman''s house.  "I see your swine hitched to the cart.  They''ve been hitched since you first spoke to me?"

    "Yes, sir."  I looked over at my swine, and, thankfully, they had apparently been behaving.  They had clearly heard me already, and were looking my way.  They were certainly bored, and there was nothing to root for in the gravel driveway.

    "Bring your team and cart over here.  I''ll go get your issue backpack, and wait for you."  The lieutenant waited for me to respond.

    I nodded.  "Yes, sir."  Then I walked off the porch of the inn and over to the Countyman''s house.

    I thanked the Countyman for allowing me to hitch my swine in his driveway.  He offered me a drink of water, which I refused, explaining that the lieutenant was waiting for me and wanted to see my team of swine.  His eyes narrowed a bit then he nodded, but didn''t ask me any questions.

    As I drove the swine team and small cart over to the inn, I saw Captain Marko, and both lieutenants were standing on the porch.  Next to Lieutenant Baker was Riko, the four of them were talking between one another.  Seeing all three officers probably waiting to speak to me made me nervous.  Riko''s presence helped me keep calm though.  He seemed relaxed, which probably meant I didn''t need to worry about the upcoming conversation, as long as I kept my temper.

    Riko caught my eye and gave me a thumbs up, out of view of the three officers.

    I pulled the cart up to the hitching post, hopped off, and then fed each sow a treat.  I looked up at the officers.  "If you don''t mind I''d like to take them off the cart, briefly, to let them all water at the trough here.  I was going to water them at the river and see if there were any acorns on the ground yet, but if I have to get the carriage ready tonight, I don''t have time for that."

    Captain Marko smiled.  "Go ahead.  We''ll just watch until you get them watered and hitched again.  I''ve never seen cart-trained swine before."

    The fact that they were all three watching and had obviously been talking about me as I brought the cart over made me nervous.  Lieutenant Davis chuckled - knowing me, I''d telegraphed my nervousness to everyone with my facial expression.  I figured he had told Captain Marko that I had objected to calling my swine pigs, and Captain Marko was having a little humor at my expense.

    Fortunately, my swine behaved.  A few neck scratches and harness inspections later, all four sows were lined up, grunting deep in their throats while happily drinking from the trough.  When they stopped drinking and started looking around at the ground, obviously looking for food, I took them back and hitched them, before giving them another treat.

    "OK.  Thank you for letting me tend to them." I said, sincerely.  They hadn''t bothered me or said a word the whole time I was tending the sows.

    "I''ve seen good horse teams less well behaved than your swine, Allen."  Captain Marko said, before continuing.  "Sergeant Gonzalez says he knows..."

    My mind tripped over the word.  Sergeant? That''s a military rank, isn''t it?  I looked at Riko, and he shook his head slightly, and pointedly looked at Captain Marko.

    Captain Marko had caught my attention shift to Riko, frowned, and was about to say something when I looked back at him with my full attention.  After a moment, he started again.  "Sergeant Gonzalez says he knows you well, and will vouch for everything you said about what your swine could do, except that he''s never seen you command them to drive predators off fresh kills.  With this demonstration, and with his recommendation, please bring your swine and carriage.  I''m going to direct the doctor we bring along to work with you as well.  If your swine can find things by example, there might be some things in the woods that he will want you to keep an eye out for as time goes by."

    "Yes, sir." I replied to Captain Marko.

    Lieutenant Davis tossed me the issue backpack and said "See you in the morning, Allen."

    "Yes, sir." I said again, this time to Lieutenant Davis, and then I dropped the backpack into the bed of the cart.

    The three officers turned to go in, and Riko spoke to Lieutenant Baker as she turned.  "I''ll be in shortly, ma''am, I''d like to pass a message to my family through Allen."

    The lieutenant nodded.  "Be quick, please, sergeant.  We need to be on the road to the border as soon as possible, and there are plans to finalize."

    "Understood, ma''am, I''ll be quick." Riko said as he walked down the steps to me.  When he reached me, he looked at me seriously.  "You''re risking a lot, but if it works out, it will be a good thing for you and your family both."

    I nodded.  "Figured I should get my swine off the farm.  Zeke''s swine will have more to eat, and the family too, even if mangel beets are not that tasty.  If the late planting comes in poorly, most of my swine would be sold off before any of Zeke''s.  His swine are better trained, older, more experienced."  I shrugged.  "You had a message to pass to your family?  You aren''t going to see them before you leave?"

    Riko shook his head and handed me a folded piece of paper.  "Too busy to go home.  Give this to my wife, and tell her I love her and for her to wish me luck.  We already discussed it last night, and she''s expecting to get a note rather than a visit."  He took a deep breath.  "Last night, I did my best to try to figure out what the militia would be doing, and I guessed well enough that I don''t need to go home.  My saddlebags have everything I need, and I brought my bow.  I impressed the officers here with my readiness, and they drafted me in to be Lieutenant Baker''s sergeant."  He winked at me.  "The fact that I''ve extensively studied the land around the border while your Granpa and I were figuring out where to do a first homestead for you and Marza helped too, especially since I brought the original maps.  They have maps too, of course, but having my own just impressed them more."

    All of a sudden it struck me.  He planned this, to be a sergeant.  "Does anything ever happen to you that you don''t plan for, Riko?"

    He slapped me on the shoulder and grinned.  "That''s sergeant to you, young man."  He paused.  "In all seriousness, I try my best to not count on luck.  When I was a young man, luck made me rich enough to buy a large farm and pay for a little help getting started, but I made that luck.  I researched ancient maps and found references to places that were once inhabited and very difficult to get to.  Then I went and explored those sites based on topographical data, looking at places where I, myself, would have built a house.  I got lucky after sixty-three failures, and almost missed what I did find.  Yes, it was really a motor.  An honest-to-goodness motor."  After a long look at me from a face that suddenly appeared far more worn and aged than normal, Riko turned away from me and walked up the stairs.  "If there''s a chance that I''m going to have to kill people to keep my family from harm, I''d rather have some say in what happens."

 Chapter 08

    I managed to remember to start an account with the bank and deposit my fisc.  When I went back into the bank I barely avoided laughing at the young lady banker I had spoken to earlier, before my bath.  She had looked worried as I approached, and audibly sniffed before smiling a genuine smile and starting to chat like she actually cared about me.  Amazing what a bath can do to make bankers happy.  I made a note to remember to take a bath before coming to the bank if Marza and I ever needed a loan for a building or equipment on our future farm.  It might even be worth buying a soap with fragrance, if just being clean made this much of a difference.

    It really did take thirty minutes to fill out several papers, as promised, including the papers to provide for my militia pay to be deposited.  When I was done, a four-digit cipher code was provided for me to memorize.  The bank would distribute a ciphered answer to a few questions about my life and identifying features to a central banking authority that would redistribute it to other banks.  The code I memorized would allow me to withdraw a small amount of fisc from anywhere, any time, but if I wanted more than a quarter of my highest recorded balance from a non-local bank, I would have to wait for the distant bank to verify my funds.  If I moved elsewhere permanently, I could have a new bank near me designated as my primary bank for a fee.  If I forgot my code, I would have to request validation of my identity, which would be time consuming.

    The banker gently reminded me that I was being activated to join the militia, so I needed to be certain to designate a beneficiary.  I indicated that Marza Gonzalez should receive the funds if I were to die with funds remaining in my account, and if she was not alive, the funds would go to the Rickson Farmstead, to the person listed in the tax record as the head of household.  All in all, the banker managed to impress me despite my first impression of her that had been formed when I was admittedly pretty rank from sweating and dealing with swine for half a day.

    As I drove towards home, I couldn''t stop thinking about what Riko had said.  He wanted to put himself in a position where he had some influence, so he could have some say in what the militia was going to do.

    Doesn''t everyone want control of their lives?  I thought, before realizing.  But most of us can''t actually do it.  Is it something I can learn, or is it natural?

    Several minutes of thinking later, I realized that Riko didn''t truly have complete control over his life - he was just very adept at using what he knew to steer things so that he had some influence over the future.  He had even said so when he confirmed the rumor of the motor to me, and said ''I made that luck.''

    Riko was a young man when he first made his luck, so it was either something he came by naturally, or it was possible to learn it at a young age.  I would have to operate under the assumption that it was possible for me to learn it.  I knew I was more than moderately intelligent.  My grades in school proved it, and I could reinforce that with knowing that I rarely did anything stupid around the farm - other than lose track of time now and then, which I felt pretty confident was normal for everyone.  I''d even seen Pa and Granpa staring off into nowhere from time to time when there was work to be done.  Nobody in my family was lacking in the ability to think, but we mostly channeled that into down-to-earth thinking on practicalities as opposed to intangibles.

    Clearly, the biggest question that I had to answer for myself before I could start trying to start taking control of my own life was how to identify useful knowledge that would enable me to generate control.  I knew how to do that on a farm.  I knew how to do that with swine.  I had some idea of how to do that with a family.  Riko, on the other hand, had used ancient knowledge and a higher education to piece together where ancient homesteads had once been, and then sought them out for salvage.  Then he used his maps and knowledge of the land border between New Charleston and New Tokyo to make a place for himself in militia leadership.

    After several fruitless minutes of wandering down mental dead-ends, I realized that my knowledge was simply too narrow in scope.  I knew a lot of basic math, science, and farming, swine, and family.  I was pretty good with my hands, and I was smart.  I was fairly certain I didn''t have all the pieces to create solutions for the problems in front of me.  Worse, it was possible that I had all the pieces, but didn''t recognize them.  Even more problematic was that I wasn''t certain I understood what the problems were.

    Thinking fruitlessly about how to take control of my life was a good distraction to keep me from thinking about the more disturbing things that I might be called upon to do in the near future.  It was almost enough of a distraction for me to forget about what I had promised to do that day.  I nearly passed the Gonzalez farm road before I remembered the letter I''d been given by Riko, to give to his wife.

    I turned up the Gonzalez farm road, and pulled up in front of the main home.  Before I had finished giving the sows a treat for their work, I heard the door open.  Riko''s wife, Marza''s grandmother, stepped out while wiping her hands with a rag.  Her forearms and tanned face were lightly dusted with flour.  She was a tall woman from a town family, taller than Riko, but a little shorter and slighter of build than Marza.  Her first daughter, Felisha, Marza''s mother, had married locally, to Jakob Hershel.  Jakob was a heavy set man of a similar build to Pa and Edward, like most of the established local farm families.  Marza and her siblings were all noticeably heavier muscled than either Mrs. Gonzalez or Riko.

    After watching me for a moment, Mrs. Gonzalez spoke first.  "Since my husband isn''t with you, I imagine you have a letter for me?" Mrs. Gonzalez spoke quietly, not shyly, but just soft spoken.  "We must have predicted closely enough that he didn''t need to return home, and was asked to be a part of planning?"

    I couldn''t help but notice that she said ''we'' meaning that perhaps not all of the planning acumen that had impressed me had been Riko''s.  That gave me a little hope.  If anything, Marza was smarter than me, and perhaps she would know more about how her grandparents thought and guided their lives.

    A bit of impatience started to show in Mrs. Gonzalez''s face, making me realize that I hadn''t answered her.  I pulled Riko''s letter out of my swine treat bag, walked up the steps to the porch, and handed it to her.  "Sorry, Mrs. Gonzalez, I was thinking.  Yes, he has been made a sergeant of the scouts, and will be leaving tonight for the border."

    Nodding, she deliberately, delicately opened the folded paper and began to read.  After a moment she carefully re-folded the note, and placed it in the pocket of her pants.  "Thank you, Allen.  I am a little surprised that Riko didn''t ask you to carry his purchases back with you, but he said he asked for them to be delivered by post since none of them were perishable."

    Riko hadn''t mentioned that to me, and I certainly hadn''t read their correspondence, so I just nodded.  "I need to report for militia duty tomorrow morning very early, and I promised Marza..."

    Mrs. Gonzalez interrupted me with a smile.  "She''s over at the smokehouse with Felisha preparing the blackberries and Muscadines picked before lunch for canning."  She shook her finger at me.  "Don''t be getting any ideas.  You will not try to get her to leave her mother''s sight."

    Does she really think I''d be that irresponsible?  I thought, before I saw her smiling and realized I''d just been given one of those obligatory warnings older people give to younger people, even when they know there''s no need for it.

    Nodding, I replied, "I wouldn''t do that to her, Mrs. Gonzalez, but you know that, I think."  I stepped down off the porch and tied the reins of the sows to the hitching post, watching her for a reaction.  I was trying not to be aggressive, just steady, so I stared at her chin instead of her eyes.

    Mrs. Gonzalez nodded, slightly, before turning and walking back inside.  She seemed somehow smaller as she shut the door, her right hand clutching at her leg on top of the pocket where she had put the note.

    I checked the reins and gave the sows a quick inspection for harness issues.  With no problems found, I walked around the house to the smokehouse by the garden, trying to figure out what I was going to say to Marza.  I certainly wasn''t going to tell her that I had set up a bank account with her as the beneficiary if I were to die.  That was not the tone I wanted to set for the last time I saw Marza before I left for the border.

    The sides were up on the smokehouse, since it was being used for canning, not smoking.  Marza looked up as soon as I stepped around the side of the house into view.  A second later, her mother looked up after I saw Marza say something I didn''t hear.  She nodded and Marza quickly walked out of the smokehouse towards me, wiping her hands on her apron.  We didn''t run to each other, but we didn''t take out time walking slowly either.

    "As promised, here I am one more time."  I smiled, we wrapped each other up in a long hug and then we kissed briefly.

    Marza tugged my hand and led me towards the back porch of the house.  There was a double rocker there that we''d spent plenty of time sitting in, side-by-side, and it was pretty clearly Marza''s destination.  "I was expecting you tomorrow morning, Allen.  Did something happen?  Did Pa come back with you?"

    "Your Pa is heading towards the border today with the rest of the scouts.  I delivered a letter from him to your ma just now."

    Marza didn''t seem surprised to hear that; she just nodded as we climbed the stairs to the back porch.

    "The rest of us will travel starting tomorrow."  I continued as I sat on the rocker, making room for Marza next to me.  "I have to be in town shortly after first light.  I wanted to spend more than just a few minutes with you, and I wanted to see you in full light before I leave, rather than by lamplight tomorrow morning."

    Marza smiled and said "move over."

    I was already sitting on one side of the rocket, so I cleverly responded, "Huh?"

    "To the middle, silly." She smiled.  "Trust me."

    I moved to the middle of the seat, and was pleasantly surprised as Marza turned around and sat in my lap.

    After I was done being shocked, I smiled.  "I see.  You really do want to make sure I remember this, don''t you?"  Even while I teased Marza, I knew from experience that Marza''s mother did not appreciate such a provocative seating arrangement.  I couldn''t help but glance at the smokehouse guiltily, and saw Marza''s mother smile and shake her head, before she inspected another jar and begin filling it.

    Marza whispered in my ear.  "I asked Ma.  She said yes, today, I could sit with you on the porch here however I liked, provided that no clothing was removed."  Then she flexed a few muscles that she was sitting on, and a certain muscle of mine responded.  "You will come back to me, Allen." She whispered into my ear.

    Responding hoarsely, I promised "I will."

    A great deal of kissing happened over the next few minutes, and a few careful placements of hands in places not visible to a certain mother who was watching from the smokehouse.  I was pretty certain we weren''t being as sneaky as we tried to be, but we weren''t called out on it either.  I was fairly certain that Marza''s mother actually wanted us to enjoy ourselves and create strong memories.

    Not that I needed the encouragement.  I knew how lucky I was to have Marza, and I knew she felt the same way I did.  Sure, we argued now and then, but arguments never mattered in the long run.  We''d known each other since we could remember.  We had an agreement that we wouldn''t risk having intercourse until we''d had our house raising, but from time to time we''d managed to engage in enough foreplay that we were very familiar with each other''s bodies.  Enough to know that when the time arrived, it was going to be fantastic.  We hadn''t had many opportunities like that since we finished school; our families watched us both very closely after it became very clear that we were serious about one another.

    I wasn''t entirely certain how long we sat there, but it hadn''t been long enough when Marza''s mother called out.  "I''m done here and you two have been knotted together long enough.  There''s work Marza needs to do, and you surely have things you need to do to get ready for tomorrow, Allen.  Wrap it up."  She sounded happy, not angry, which took some of the sting out of it.

    After a long kiss, I held Marza''s face between my hands.  "I promise you that I will come back."

    "You''d better."  She poked me in the nose.  "After all these years of waiting, if we don''t get our own place after spring planting, I think I''m going to explode."

    I twitched my hips a little under her.  "I know exactly what you mean."

    Mentally, I cursed the things that led up to where we found ourselves.  Burn the locusts.  Burn Second Landing.  Why this year?

    Before she stood, Marza twitched a few muscles of her own, sending some very important signals to parts of my brain that were fed up with being stymied.  I beat back the mental beast and accepted a hand from Marza as she helped me stand.  The blood flow to my legs had been partly cut off by her weight, but it was a price worth paying.  The slight clumsiness of my legs passed quickly as the irritating, prickling pain faded.  Marza smirked as I adjusted my pants.

    As Marza and I walked around the house, Marza''s mother came out of the smokehouse, staying far enough away to give us privacy, but keeping us in sight.  As we stood next to the cart, we hugged again, hard, and kissed once more, for not enough time.  As I freed the reins and climbed onto the cart, Marza scratched the four sows behind the ears, clicking her tongue and murmuring in low tones to them.  They knew her, and responded with happy little grunts.

    Before I left, Marza stood next to the cart and we held hands again for a minute, saying nothing, just looking at each other.  I raised her hand to my lips and kissed her knuckles.  As I drove away, I turned and waved over my head.  She waved back.  The last thing I saw before I was out of sight of the house was Marza''s mother pulling her into a hug.

    A great many inappropriate thoughts crossed my mind over the next few minutes as I drove the cart the short remaining distance to our farm.  Most of them revolved around me trying to figure out if there was some way I could bring Marza with me in the swineherd carriage.  Imagining her reaction to me asking her to leave her family and go to a militia camp with me was sobering.  Imagining the fallout from both our families if Marza actually agreed to it was even more sobering.  The final straw that broke the back of my juvenile sex-related fantasies was a mental image of Riko discovering that Marza was in the militia camp with me, instead of safely back at the Gonzalez farm.  I''d seen Riko irritated several times, but never angry.  I was certain I never wanted that experience.

    I had to laugh at myself a little bit, but it was bittersweet.  I''d just put several minutes worth of thought into something completely meaningless while I should have been considering meaningful things that I needed to do to get ready for the next day.  Most of the preparations would be inspecting the carriage and checking the harness.  If possible, I''d want to work with Granpa on that.  He built the carriage.  He''s be the best one to help me make sure it was ready, and that I knew it''s most likely points of failure.

    The boars were also going to be a potential issue.  They were harness trained, but in about a month, perhaps less, they were going to go into rut, and they became very temperamental when in rut.  Still controllable, if I was careful, but dangerous.  Both boars were roughly three times my mass, and proportionately stronger than any man.  Having the two of them side-by-side in harness would be an issue.  They would almost certainly start scuffling, perhaps even really fighting for dominance despite their training.  When they did enter rut, having one boar in front of the sows in trace, and the other trailing the carriage would also be an issue; the trailing boar would want to move up and challenge the leading boar for leadership.

    While I was awake, I was confident in my ability to control the boars, even in rut.  They were well enough trained that they would respond to me even in rut, even if they were a bit slow to do so.  But I''d be a fool to not be worried.  Despite their absurd durability, even a few seconds of serious fighting could injure one or the other of them, perhaps even seriously.  I''d have to stake them separately from the sows and from each other at night.  The space under the carriage would be only for the sows.  I''d certainly not be able to properly control their mating if I took them into the field with me foraging, and I would need to take them into the field to protect the sows and myself from predators.

    An uncontrolled breeding season would lead to me having to sell every one of the squealers from this year''s breeding season as culls, unless there were some very promising animals like Speedy.  I would make the effort to find alternate bloodlines for this season''s animals in that case.  With two possible sires, keeping bloodlines straight would be difficult, but not impossible.

    I pulled up in front of the equipment barn, gave the sows each a treat and let them out of harness and took them to their pen.  The rest of my sounder wasn''t there.  They had probably been turned out in one of the fallow fields to root.

    After leading the four sows into their pen and closing the gate, they all lined up at their trough and stared at me.

    "Give me a minute." I said, knowing they couldn''t understand me, but they could tell that I was paying attention to them.  I pulled a couple mangel beets from the feed storage box and noticed that someone, probably Zeke, had also put a large bundle of still-green quartered corn stalks and a barrel of locusts in the feed box as well. I pulled out an armful of the corn stalks and dropped them into the feed trough and four very hungry sows who had been pulling a cart all day eagerly attacked the corn stalks as I chopped the mangels with a hand axe.  She stone was getting a bit dull.  We''d have to grind it down again, soon, or it would mash mangels more than cut them.  Not that the swine would care, but it would also be harder work.

    I checked the water trough, and it was nearly full, a couple small goldfish were visible, cruising the sides and surface of the trough, looking for mosquito larvae or other bugs.  When my shadow crossed the trough, they stopped swimming, clearly poised to begin surface feeding.  In a good year, we''d feed them with old bread and ground corn.  This year, we would not feed them, just replace them from the pond as needed.  It wouldn''t be much longer before mosquitos were no longer a threat anyway.

    I quickly and thoroughly cleaned the harness my swine had worn all day.  Cleaning swine harness was quicker than cleaning horse harness - swine didn''t sweat on their harness like horses did.  I found one girth that needed repair, and replaced it with a spare, putting the worn piece in the pile of harness that would be repaired or recycled over the winter - or sooner, if needed.

    As I cleaned harness, I watched the sows eating.  All four of them were eating eagerly properly with no sign of distress, sounding off with deep grunts of satisfaction as they gnawed on corn stalks and chopped mangel beets.  After I finished with the harness, I grabbed four locusts from the locust barrel and gave one to each sow, calling them to me one at a time so they wouldn''t squabble over the treats.  They each happily ate their locust treat and accepted a little scratch behind the ears before walking back over to the corn stalks and beets.

    I returned to the equipment shed, hauled the small cart back inside by hand, and picked the backpack I''d been issued out of the bed of the cart.  I needed to get the swineherd carriage ready to travel, and that would be best done in full light, and there was only a couple hours of full light remaining.  I was hoping Granpa would be able to help me.

    The locusts were almost entirely gone at this point, so Molly, Abe, and Granpa were certainly not collecting them any longer.  I knew someone had been processing corn though.  It was probably either Jan or Granpa.  Probably both of them, using Abe and Molly as helpers.  Ma would know.  I hadn''t eaten anything since breakfast, so I was definitely going to be seeing Ma before I did anything else.

    As I walked into the house, I got a hug and kiss on the cheek from Ma, followed by a flatbread and glass of hot tea.  The hug wasn''t expected, but I wasn''t silly enough to fight it, and gave her a hug back.  It was only after the hug was done that I realized that it was probably because of the fact that I was going away tomorrow.

    "Thanks Ma." I said as I sat down at the table and took a bite of flatbread and a cautious sip of tea as Ma went back into the kitchen.  "Is Granpa processing the harvest with Jan?"

    "Granpa yes, Jan no." Ma explained.  "The locusts were mostly gone by lunch.  Your pa, Edward, and Zeke finished plowing one field this morning.  With the locusts mostly gone already, Pa had Zeke, Jan, Abe, and Molly start planting today in the first field while he and Edward plowed the second field.  He thinks that we may be able to get both fields fully planted today.  They will be planting at wide separation, so we won''t have to thin.  Everything that can grow will grow.  We''ll also be planting the fallow fields as well, tomorrow, until we run out of beet and radish seed."

    I nodded.  Granpa couldn''t walk fields to plant.  Not easily.  A wooden stool next to a shock of corn though?  He could work as fast as any of us that way.  The corn stalks would be best for the animals when fresh, while the grass was recovering.

    I was a little worried about planting in fallow fields, but after a brief reality check, my worry was pushed aside.  We needed everything we could get out of the ground this year.  It would be a risk to use all of our seed though.  If we didn''t get seed bearing plants by the end of the growing season, we might have to buy seed the next year.  Though, it was late enough that the beets and radishes in the garden...  "Did we collect any seeds from the garden plants yet, Ma?" I asked.  Ma, Jan, Granpa, Abe and Molly typically dealt with the house garden, I couldn''t remember if they had said anything about seed harvesting this year.

    "Some from the earliest planting radishes and last year''s beets.  Not many.  Enough for next year''s house garden, but it''ll be a couple years before we have enough seed for a full field planting of table beets or radishes if we don''t buy seed or leave some plants in the field."

    That made a lot of sense.  Same-season seeds wouldn''t sprout well, so Pa wouldn''t risk them.  If we did get a full late harvest, we''d probably leave some beets and radishes in the ground.  The radishes might go to seed if the frost was late.  Being biannual, the beets would go to seed in the next season like carrots.

    I shook my head.  As important as knowing what was happening with the crops would normally be to me, I needed to speak to Granpa and see if I could take up some of his time.  Even if he couldn''t help, he could tell me what I needed to do, if there was anything special required to prepare the carriage for first use.

    I quickly took another bite of flatbread.  It tasted like tomato, which was a little odd for a flatbread, but not bad.  I finished the cup of tea, swirling the last bit in the bottom to make sure to get the last bits of sugar.  I walked into the kitchen and put the heavy glass cup on the counter and got back out of Ma''s way.  She was starting to prepare dinner, and I didn''t want to get in the way.

    I did glance at what she was preparing.  The potatoes, carrots, and other vegetables she was chopping were mostly older looking.  Some of them would have been fed to the swine in a good year.  Half a dozen eggs and some cheese were present as well.  That would be our protein.  "Egg and cheese soup?" I asked, forcing myself to sound more excited than I really was.

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    "Using up the oldest garden vegetables while they are still barely good, Allen." Ma explained, not being fooled by my tone for an instant.  "We''ve got plenty of mint, dried peppers, and salt though, so I''ll flavor it heavily."  She shrugged.  "It should come out OK."

    "I''m sure it will, Ma.  I really wasn''t complaining.  I do like egg and cheese soup, even if it''s not my favorite."  Fresh, I actually liked it.  I hoped she was right that the flavorings would cover the off taste of old produce.

    "I know, Allen."  She paused.  "Your Pa said to have you come to him when you got back, after you got food in you."

    I nodded.  "I''ll go find him then.  He''s certainly still plowing.  Thanks Ma."

    I walked by the tool shed first, grabbed a cameltote, tossed a couple salt tablets in it, and filled it from the cistern.  Pa would probably not make me help plant seeds in the field with four people planting already, but if I went there clearly not being ready to work in the field, he''d probably be irritated.

    Pa and Edward were about a third finished plowing the second field.  As I approached to talk to Pa, I was a bit surprised to find Zeke with both of our sounders in the field that was being plowed, keeping all of our animals in the unplowed sections eating corn root.  Jan, Abe, and Molly were about half-finished planting the plowed field.  It made sense to get as much fodder out of the field as possible, before the seeds went in, but I was expecting Zeke to be planting.  Zeke was keeping the two sounders separate with a bit of effort.  The swine knew each other by scent and sound and lived near one another.  The sows wanted to group together.  The boars wanted to test each other, even if they weren''t in rut.

    Zeke''s boars were a good bit older than mine, and he was being very careful to keep them far from mine.  I was happy to see that.  Hopper wasn''t a big concern, but I didn''t want either Hoss or Bigboy to get in a scrap with Tubby, who was nearly three hundred kilos - a lot bigger than we normally liked our boars to get.  Tubby had sired quite a few extremely intelligent squealers, and his size didn''t seem to contaminate his smartest offspring like Speedy.  This last year was the first year any of my sows had been big enough to breed safely with Tubby, and Speedy was one of his.  Zeke was going to start keeping a few boars instead of culling them, preparing to replace Tubby in the next couple years though because he was still growing slowly, about thirty kilos a year even at nearly eight years old.  If he got much bigger, he''d be too big to breed with any of our sows without injuring them.

    As I walked over to where Pa was plowing, I waved at Zeke, who waved back.

    I approached Pa, and walked beside him as he plowed, walking on the unplowed side.  I could see that he was tired.  I wanted to offer to replace him on the plow, but that probably wouldn''t make him very happy with me.  At least he wasn''t coughing, just sweating heavily.

    Pa nodded to me.  "When do you leave?"

    "Tomorrow.  I need to be in town as early as possible.  I got permission to take the carriage and my sounder, so I need to prep it while I still have light."

    Pa cut his eyes to me and the plow jerked a little to the left, but he immediately recovered.  "Are you sure about that?  Seems likely that a camp full of militia are going to see your swine as better food than any forage you might be able to manage to haul out of the woods."

    "The officers agreed.  Mr. Gonzalez supported me.  I will have to contribute positively to feeding the militia, so if the forage is very bad, or if we''re in the same place for a long time, it will be a problem.  At the same time, it''ll get my swine off the farm, and Zeke won''t need to be as strict with his culling.  If I lose my swine, I''ll have pay from the militia that I can use to give Zeke a fair price for some of his better culls, so I won''t have to ask him for anything for free."

    Pa beetled his brows.  "It''s a risk for you but I won''t argue, because it''s good for the farm.  Zeke''s sounder will be stronger for it, and all the animals will have better feed.  You need to prepare the carriage though, right?"

    I nodded.  "Yes, sir.  I''m hoping to get Granpa''s help for that, or at least his advice."

    Pa smiled.  "You know you can get his help for that.  There''s no way he''ll let you take it out without teaching you more about it."  He paused, and got a thoughtful look for a moment.  "I doubt he''ll argue with you about taking it and your sounder.  He said he gave the carriage to you, so it''s yours now, like your sounder."  His eyes cut to me again, and he dropped his voice slightly.  "Be careful with how you bring it up though, because he and Mr. Gonzalez have been planning for more than a year now on how to get you and Marza comfortably settled, and taking the carriage out on militia duty doesn''t fit those plans."

    I had considered that already.  "I understand, sir.  Mr. Gonzalez supported me to the militia officers though.  If I mention that to Granpa, carefully, I suspect he won''t give me much trouble about it."

    Pa pursed his lips, and responded with the same quieter speech he had used before.  "You''re probably right, but be careful.  If he strenuously objects, do not argue with him; come back to me, and we''ll talk to him together."

    I nodded and hoped I wouldn''t need to do that.  The thought of Pa and Granpa arguing was not pleasant.  Granpa had given the responsibility of the farm to Pa, but he''d done so because of his lost foot, not because of an inability to think.  They were almost always in agreement, but on those occasions when that wasn''t true, they would sometimes go days without speaking with one another, even at meals.  It was almost funny when they started passing messages to each other through other family members so they didn''t have to speak to one another.  Almost.  For them to get irritated with one another right now when everyone needed to be working together would be bad.  Especially with me gone.

    Pa tossed his head without taking his eyes off the plow.  "Go.  Come back if you need me.  Otherwise, I''ll see you at dinner."

    I nodded and looked at the storage huts next to the fields to see which had been unsealed.  Unsurprisingly, it was the one that we had filled last, which would have the most room to work in.  I started walking in that direction, trying to imagine how the conversation would go.

    As I walked in the door, Granpa looked up.  "Your Pa sent you to help me?" He said, in a puzzled tone.  I would have been puzzled too.  The better choice would have been to send Jan to help Granpa and have me take over planting for her.  Jan wasn''t too far into her pregnancy, and it wasn''t good for a woman to be too sedentary when pregnant unless there was a medical problem, but it didn''t hurt to restrict physical activity to some degree.  She had plenty of strength for pulling corn ears off their stalks.  Abe and Molly didn''t.  They could do it, but not easily.

    "No sir, I have a favor to ask of you, but I''ll help a bit while I ask."  I picked up a three-legged stool from next to the door and sat it next to the shock of corn stalks he was working on, across from him between the shock and the stalk pile.  He would work left-to-right and I would work right-to-left.  After sitting, I picked a stalk out of the shock and quickly stripped off the two ears, tossing the stalk into the stalk pile.  The ears were skinny feeling for about half their length.  I didn''t need to unwrap the ear to know that maybe a third of the ears would be human-edible.

    Granpa said nothing for a moment, looking at me with a bit of a puzzled look before he shrugged and grabbed a stalk himself, removing three ears quickly.  "You have me curious now.  Do you plan on teasing me for a bit before you tell me what you want?  I''m drawing a blank."

    As I reached for another stalk, I quickly answered.  "No.  I''m not planning on teasing you.  I didn''t want to be idle while I talked to you though."  And I''m still not entirely certain how to ask you. I thought, but didn''t say out loud.

    He looked up at me, and looked confused.  "Spill it, Allen.  It''s clearly something important to you.  You haven''t asked me a stupid question in years.  I doubt you''re going to start again today."  He chuckled and started working quickly.  I matched his pace.  Since we weren''t using tools, we could work quickly while talking.

    "Well, sir, the militia is going to try to support itself as much as possible from forage in the field, and my experience as a forager was supported by Mr. Gonzalez."  I paused.  "You were right, obviously.  Riko chose himself as the Gonzalez farm representative for the militia draft."

    Granpa grinned without looking up.  "Hrm, he asked you to call him Riko?"

    I nodded.

    "He said he wouldn''t let you call him by his first name until you and Marza were wed at the house raising, but he apparently changed his mind.  He doesn''t do that often."  Granpa shook his head and chuckled deep in his throat.  "As for choosing himself as his farm''s militia representative, I thought he might.  Either your father or I would have done the same if we could.  Even though Riko complains to me about his joints on cold days, I''m pretty sure that''s more for my benefit than for any real pain he suffers.  He''s not much older than your father, hasn''t ever been severely injured, and physically active people with slighter builds generally don''t have joint issues as early as bigger boned folks like me, your pa, and Edward."  He stopped talking for a moment and twisted the ears off another corn stalk, and his face got very serious.  "He''ll want to meddle in their planning too, I know.  If the militia officers are smart, they''ll let him."

    I grinned.  "Right in one.  He''s already part of the leadership of the scouts, and is heading to the border today.  He and his wife apparently planned for him to go and take some sort of leadership position, which surprised me a lot.  How do you plan for something like that?"

    "That''s not why you''re here, to ask me about problem solving or planning.  You''re avoiding asking me something that''s important to you, and you''re afraid I''ll be annoyed by the question."  He looked up at me as his hands worked.  "And I still can''t figure out what it is."

    I sighed.  "The militia needs a forager, and I want to ease the stress on the farm.  I plan on taking my sounder and boars with me.  I could do that without the carriage, but it would be a lot harder."

    Granpa''s hands stopped working momentarily.  He looked up at me, catching my eyes.  I carefully kept working while I waited for his response, but didn''t look away.

    After a moment, he looked away.  "I see."  He paused a few seconds and his hands started working again, twisting off corn ears.  "The carriage is yours, like I said.  I wasn''t expecting you to use it like this, but it makes sense on several levels.  I''d rather you be sleeping in some sort of cover in any case.  More people die from exposure and disease in conflicts than from actual fighting.  It''s been a long time since I went to school, but I remember that."

    I hadn''t even thought about the fact that I would be taking my own bed and shelter with me in the carriage, and Granpa was right.  Sickness and disease killed more people in wars than injuries did.  That was even true before Albert took most technology away from us.

    "I''d like your help prepping the carriage, Granpa.  I already spoke to Pa to make sure there wasn''t anything critical I needed to do first."  I paused, and realized that Granpa was almost as good at predicting what other people would do as Riko.

    Granpa nodded.  "I''ll help.  Let''s finish this shock first though."

    There were about a hundred stalks left.  Both of our hands rapidly twisted corn ears, tossed stalks into the pile, and grabbed new stalks in unison.  Working in a shared pattern was easier, almost hypnotic in a way.

    After another half dozen stalks I''d sorted out what I wanted to say next.  "While we''re doing that, Granpa, I do want to talk to you about problem solving and planning.  Riko showed me twice today that he was planning far more in advance than I could imagine doing.  I''m pretty sure that his wife helped him with at least some of that that planning, based on what she said when I delivered his letter to her on my way back."  I paused.  "I hope you don''t take offense, Granpa, but I never really understood how good you were at predicting things either, until today."

    "Now THAT was the stupidest thing I''ve heard you say in years."  I was a bit stunned and didn''t notice that he wasn''t angry at first, until he bopped me on the forehead with an ear of corn.  "You think I''m going to be upset at you for growing up?"

    I rubbed my forehead, confused.  "I, uh..."

    I couldn''t remember ever seeing Granpa look so amused and happy.  "I''ll have you know that I only had this discussion with your father after I lost my foot, a year after I handed the farm over to him.  He''d picked up some of it on his own before then, of course, but he never admitted that I was better than him at planning until then.  He still doesn''t fully believe it, but he respects that it might be true as long as it doesn''t challenge his most precious beliefs."

    I could only stare for a moment before I started to babble without really thinking.  "Well, I know you''re a lot better at planning than me.  I can see that Pa, since he''s a lot older than me, he might..."

    Granpa hit me with the ear of corn again and laughed.  "Ha!  Don''t defend your Pa, there''s no need.  Nobody is right about everything.  Not even me.  Not even Riko, though I''ll admit that he''s a brilliant man.  Some of his crazy ideas about farming that he had when he first bought the place were pretty funny.  Even you would laugh at them.  He learned though."  He paused.  "We learned from each other.  He taught me about soil and I taught him about pests and carpentry.  He also taught me how to think a little more clearly, and put myself in other people''s heads.  He''s always been very good about knowing what other people were thinking."

    This was exactly what I wanted to hear about.  "I''d like to learn what I can about thinking better, so I know better what other people will do.  How much of it is just experience, and how much of it is how you think about things?  It seems to me that a lot of it is what you know.  From what I was thinking on the way back from town, it''s mostly older people who seem to think more clearly and plan better."

    Granpa tossed the ear of corn he''s been hitting me with into the storage bin, and tossed the stalk onto the stalk pile.  We both started working again, quickly stripping ears from corn stalks.

    After we''d both finished a couple stalks, Granpa spoke again.  "Everyone figures out a little about how other people think as they get older, unless they are incredibly dense.  What most people never learn to do is actively imagine the world as other people see it.  That''s what Riko taught me.  If you really want to understand other people, you have to be able to put yourself in their head.  Most young people have a really hard time with that, even if they know how to do it."

    "I... see.  I think."  I paused.  "So the other night at dinner, you put yourself in my place and knew I was worried about Marza, and then put yourself in Riko''s place and knew I didn''t need to be worried about Marza?"

    "Exactly, but that was easy.  I know you both well."  He paused.  "Riko is able to do that with people he doesn''t know at all, which is pretty amazing.  It''s partly because he has a very good education, I think, but that''s not all of it.  He''s really smart too.  And, as you mentioned, he''s a lot better when he and his wife work together.  She''s no better educated than you or I, but she''s got a hawk''s eye for how people react."  He chuckled.

    "So I can''t get as good at planning as Riko without a higher education, you don''t think?"

    Granpa looked at me.  "No.  There are others in town who are almost as good as Riko at planning.  Jake Donaldson and the Countyman, for example.  The Countyman took a few university classes, but never finished a degree.  Jake never even finished basic school because his pa died very young and he had to help his ma run the store."

    I understood the Countyman, and agreed, but Jake Donaldson?  The general store owner?  I''d never really spent any time speaking with him, but he did have a reputation...  "Jake is really good at knowing what people want to buy, I guess.  Ma has complained a couple times that he sells her things she didn''t really know she needed until he told her."

    Nodding, Granpa agreed.  "Exactly.  He can imagine what you want if he knows you at all.  Using the example you gave about your ma, Jake knows what the other farmwives have been buying and paying attention to, and he knows your mother and what she''s bought from him in the past.  He puts that together in his head and out pops a list of things that your mother wants, even if she doesn''t know it.  He''s right often enough that people sometimes buy things he suggests without really wanting them, because they trust him to know what they need."  He paused and frowned.  "Going into the general store with extra money is dangerous.  Once you get away from things to do with the general store though, Jake''s pretty ignorant.  If he was brilliant about everything else as he was about what people would buy from him, he''d probably be a Countyman, maybe even a Stateman."

    "Do you have any hints or suggestions about how to figure out what other people might do?"  I asked.

    "Two things that clarified a lot for me after Riko explained them to me."  He tossed another stalk into the pile.  "Firstly, people might do things that they know other people will think is wrong, but nobody ever does things they don''t think is right.  Secondly, when you are trying to imagine what other people will do, you have to think about people''s intent before you try to imagine their specific actions.  A person might act before they know why they are going to do something, but if you are trying to figure out what they will do in advance, you have to understand their intent and motivation.  If you are really good at reading people, and see them act impulsively a few times, you might even understand someone better then they understand themselves after just a few interactions with them."

    "And you can do that with us."  I stated.

    "With family, sure.  I know how you all think.  The only ones that regularly confuse me are Abe and Molly, and that''s because they haven''t really settled into their personalities yet."  He smiled.  "It''s pretty refreshing, actually."

    I wasn''t really sure I wanted to ask this but it seemed important.  "So, you know when you''re going to get into a serious argument with Pa, and do it anyway?"

    He belly laughed.  "You''re digging deep for answers, Allen."  He paused.  "Yes.  I know when an argument with my son will lead to a heated disagreement, but I can''t back down just because we disagree.  He''s even been right, a couple times.  You won''t learn much unless you are wrong every now and then."

    Well, I guess that means I can learn plenty, since I''m wrong so much.  I thought to myself as I reached over for another stalk, and there weren''t any left.

    "OK, let''s go get the carriage ready for tomorrow.  Leave the stools, I''ll be back here after dinner, and someone''s sure to join me when your pa and Edward finish plowing, and it won''t be you.  You will need to harness your swine tonight and drive them around to let them get used to the carriage, it''s going to feel different to them than the small carts they are used to." Granpa said as he turned on his stool.  As I nodded and stood, he stood as well, using one hand against the wall as balance as he used the other to collect a crutch.  When one crutch was properly set under his right arm, he picked up the other.  He didn''t really need both, but he was faster on two crutches than just one.

    "The most important things to keep an eye on are the axles and bearings, of course.  I did get nylon bearings for the carriage, instead of wood, so you can just use wax to lubricate them.  Canning wax will work fine, and I''ve put a block of clean wax in the carriage, as well as some neatsfoot oil for harness, some spare harness parts, and a repair kit.  If all you have is used wax, be sure to heat it and strain it through cloth first."

    I nodded.  What he said made sense.  Looking down I saw the stack of corn stalks.  We were walking to the equipment barn anyhow, I might as well carry down some corn stalk for animal fodder.  "I already used some of the corn stalk for the sows that I took to town earlier.  I need to replace what I used."

    "Take it down for the cows instead.  We''re using the corn stalk instead of hay for them as well." Granpa reminded me.

    "OK."  That meant I needed to carry more.  One cow ate as much as the four sows I''d fed earlier, and we had four cows.  I decided to carry as much of the corn stalk as I could, the cows and horses would eat it fast enough.

    I leaned over and stood about a hundred corn stalks against my chest.  Splitting the big bundle into two roughly equal sized standing bundles, I wrapped one arm around each bundle as I bent my knees.  Then I rotated the two bundles onto my shoulders as I stood, carefully using my legs to lift and not my back.  The first time I stood, the bundles were balanced to far forward, so I had to set them down, grab them a little closer to the ground, and stand up again to get the balance right.  I ended up with a large bundle of corn stalks over each shoulder as I walked, carefully keeping my back straight and watching my footing.  As I walked, following Granpa so I could see where he was at all times, he started explaining maintenance of the carriage''s steering mechanisms.  I was very happy to hear that he did have a maintenance schedule written up for me.  A lot of the carriage was similar to the farm carts and wagons, but there were differences.

    Dinner that night was subdued.  Even Abe and Molly were quiet and reserved, and that bothered me more than the fact that everyone else was being so careful.  I explained that I would be taking the carriage and my sounder with me.  Pa and Granpa already knew, of course.  Both Edward and Zeke were clearly relieved to hear that, but were obviously embarrassed that they felt that way.  They didn''t need to feel embarrassed, and I made certain to tell them that I understood, and I''d probably feel the same way.  I was taking eleven swine and myself off the farm, and they would be fools not to be relieved that the farm wouldn''t have to feed us all after this harvest.

    Ma was quiet and distracted throughout dinner.  After dinner, I went to my room and packed my backpack with a couple changes of clothes.  As I was getting everything ready, I was visited by everyone, one at a time, for quiet words and well-wishing.

    When everyone else was done, Ma stepped into the room and quietly asked.  "Come out and sit on the porch with me, Allen, please?"

    Of course, I said "Yes, Ma." And followed her out to the front porch.

    We both sat on the top step of the porch, looking out into the last remnants of sunlight.

    "I feel a bit silly telling you that I love you, because I know you know it." She muttered, her voice a little cracked and hoarse.

    I cleared my throat a little so I could talk.  "I do know it, Ma.  I''m sure I don''t have to tell you either, but I love you too."

    She reached her hand around my shoulder and hugged me for a second.  Then she put both of her hands back in her lap, leaned her head on my shoulder, and talked in a small voice.  "I''m so afraid for you.  I''m so afraid for us."

    I tried to keep my voice calm but failed, my voice came out pretty broken.  "I''d be lying if I tried to tell you I wasn''t scared, Ma."

    For the next fifteen minutes, we leaned against each other, saying nothing.  Eventually, Ma stood, slowly.  "You need to get some sleep, if you can."

    Sleep took it''s time claiming me.

 The book cover is done!

The artist that did the cover is Briar Givens, and his contact email is [email protected]</a>

    Soulpelt does ask for payment for his work, but it''s not my place to get between him and his customers, so if you want to get cover art done, talk to him.

 Chapter 09

    The next morning was a blur of preparing the carriage and harnessing and leashing the swine, followed by lots of rib-bruising hugs and wet eyes under an oil lamp in the pre-dawn.  For good measure, there was also a great deal of hair-ruffling and my extraction of promises from Abe and Molly to be good.  As I stood next to the prepped swineherd carriage, I checked one last time to be sure that the tail-post was secure.  The five smallest sows were on leads connected to the tail-post assembly sticking out of the back of the chassis of the carriage.  Their leads were attached to the far end of the tail-post, short enough that the swine couldn''t get trapped under the wheels of the carriage.  The farm wagons and carts didn''t have the tail-post, but they were not designed for long trips like the carriage.  When leading swine behind carts and wagons, I had to watch for them to become fouled in the wheels at all times or they could be injured severely.  I wouldn''t need to be concerned about that type of accident with the swineherd carriage''s tail-post being used.

    It was a bit awkward.  We''d already said goodbyes, but everyone was waiting for me to leave.

    Ma walked forward one more time, with a small smile, but there was something springy in her step too.  "Three last things."

    I''d seen the pouch she had been carrying and suspected it was something I was going to be given, but I certainly wasn''t going to press her on it.  Pa looked concernedly at Ma when she said ''Three last things.'', so I suspected there was an actual surprise to Pa coming too.

    I accepted the pouch into my hands, and Ma cupped my chin with her hand.  "Waxcloth sealed flatbreads.  Some of your favorites.  They will be surprises, when you need them."

    I was very happy with the gift.  Good food that would last a long time.  Densely woven waxcloth wrapped around flatbreads, which were then placed in a ceramic crucible barely larger than the flatbread. The rest of the space around the flatbread in the crucible was filled with melted wax, and then dropped into a pot of boiling water for thirty minutes.  When done, the string at the top of the flatbread would be used to pull the waxy package out of the crucible, where it would cool and harden.  Not an extravagant expense, but not trivial either - there were at least a dozen of the flatbreads in the pouch, based on the weight.  Enough wax for a couple dozen canning jar seals, and waxcloth wasn''t cheap.

    "Thanks, Ma, I''ll think of home when I eat them."

    "Oh, you''ll need to think of someone else, too.  I gave her the recipes.  She made them and brought them over this morning."  Ma whistled a short burst, and I heard the door of our house open, even though the whole family was out in front of the equipment barn with me.

    Marza and her mother and father stepped out of our house.  At some point they had apparently been snuck into the house when I was getting the carriage and swine ready.  After being stunned for a moment, I smiled and stepped forward to meet Marza.

    "Did you really think I wasn''t going to come see you this morning, you silly?" She poked me in the nose and I playfully bit at her finger.

    "Not answering that question is probably my safest option right now." I answered as I hugged her to me, fiercely, barely able to speak through the emotions caught in my throat.  She was doing her best to crush my breath out too.  We didn''t kiss at first, we were in front of family.  After a minute, despite being in front of family, we pulled apart and kissed strongly.

    This might be the last time I see Marza, I''m at least going to give her a good kiss. I thought to myself as we enjoyed the kiss.

    I happened to notice Ma and Pa reach their hands together, where they were standing several feet away.  Marza''s Ma and Pa didn''t seem to be upset, in fact they were both smiling a little sadly.

    "Thank you for coming, Marza."  I poked at her nose with my fingertip.  "And thank you for the flatbreads.  What kinds did you make?"

    She shook her head and smiled up at me with that challenging look in her eyes that I loved so much.  "Nope.  You find out when you eat them.  We all figure that the militia is going to be so badly organized for the first couple days that they won''t feed people well, so if you need it, it''s there.  Otherwise, you can just have extra comfort food.  It''s not chicken soup or cheese tamales, but they are flavored with things you like."

    I slowly cupped her face between both of mine and looked her in the eyes, as she stared back at me, our eyes trapped together.  "Thank you.  I feel like I am the luckiest man on Nirvana."  I wanted to say something about coming back, but that wasn''t a promise I could make, and I didn''t want to taint our leaving with any sort of dishonesty.

    Marza pulled me close for another hug, and quietly spoke.  "I love you."

    I barely managed to speak, more of a croak instead.  "I love you too."  I could say that without any dishonesty at all.

    After a moment, Marza let me go and put her hand on my chest.  "Go.  The dawn is coming, they want you in town very early, Granpa''s note said."  After a pause.  "Come back.  Please."

    I wiped a tear off her cheek, and felt her do the same for me as I choked out a response.  "I will do my best."

    Marza pushed against me with her hand and turned away, taking several steps and being welcomed into her mother''s strong arms.  Her father just looked at me and nodded, thoughtful, and then looked at my mother, who was stepping forward a bit.

    Ma coughed.  "The third thing is in the pouch with the flatbread, and you can read it later.  A letter from me.  Some things my family knew, that got me in a lot of trouble when I misused them.  It is several pages.  Read them when you have time."

    Pa looked at her with a bit of alarm.

    Ma stared at Pa, and they locked eyes.  "I''d rather he know and have a better chance of living."

    They stared at each other for several seconds, and then Pa nodded.  Everyone else except Granpa looked confused.

    Pa eventually turned away from Ma and walked up, gave me one last hug that threatened to snap my spine, and ruffled my hair.  "Get moving.  You need to be in town by sunrise and it''s starting to show light on the horizon.  We''ll see you when this is all over."

    "Yes, sir."  I hesitated before turning to the carriage, and climbing up to the driver''s bench, setting the pouch next to me.  As I sat, I checked the lamp to be certain it was properly attached.  For the next thirty minutes or so I''d need the lamp to give the swine and I enough light to see the road properly.

    I picked up the reins in my left hand and waved to everyone with my right as they waved back to me.  I carefully gave the verbal command to the swine to pull, and they obediently put their weight into the harness.  The two boars led the four sows that I typically used to haul the small farm carts.  The sows could haul this carriage by themselves, but the two boars were as massive and as strong as all four sows, if not stronger.  Between the six of them they hauled the light carriage rather easily.  I didn''t know how far or fast we''d have to move today.  I wanted this to be as easy on them as possible.

    After I was too far away to be easily seen, I stopped waving and intentionally lost myself in watching the swine as they pulled.  The boars didn''t go into harness often, despite being trained for it.  They weren''t any trouble, for now.  If this dispute wasn''t resolved before they went into rut, putting them next to each other in harness would be a very bad idea.

    When I was at marker nine, a bit more than halfway to town, it was light enough to turn off the lamp, so I did so after briefly stopping the swine.  My eyes crossed over the pouch next to me on the bench.  I opened it and saw a sheaf of folded papers on top of the sealed flatbreads, as Ma had promised.  I wanted to pull Ma''s note out and read it immediately, but it would have to wait.  I needed to get into town by the time the sun was over the horizon.  The thought of my swine getting twisted up in harness because I was trying to read in the dawn light while driving was enough to keep my hands off the note.

    Another thirty minutes or so later, I encountered chaos.  Carts and horses were everywhere.  Teak and her wagon being loaded with crates instead of paving stones was the only calm spot in the town square.  That calm was being enforced by Kristof and a man wearing the grey clothes and black boots of the militia uniform.  Everyone gave elefants room to work, but with this much chaos on the roads through town, Kristof and the militiaman were constantly having to warn cart drivers away.  Teak seemed to be in good humor, ignoring everything around her as she lifted nets full of supplies and Donal organized them on the massive six-wheeled roadway wagon.

    My swine were nervous with all the nearby activity and chaos, but they were still behaving well.  I wanted to get them to a safe place, away from all the hustle and bustle.  I saw Lieutenant Davis talking with several men and women on the porch of the inn, as he spoke to each of them, they left him at a fast walk, clearly having been tasked to do something.  As I watched, two women and a man walked back at a fast pace, climbed the steps, handed the lieutenant papers, and waited, listening, for the lieutenant to direct them.

    Not quite chaos then, I thought as I looked around more carefully, just a whole lot of people trying to do a lot of different things in too small an area.

    I found a section of road along the side of Cambel''s Inn that wasn''t occupied and pulled the carriage next to the fence.  Definitely an unacceptable action in normal day-to-day, but today wasn''t normal.  There was no way my carriage, with the tail-post attached, was going to get anywhere close to the hitching post in front of either inn.

    I picked up the pouch with Ma''s note and flatbreads from the bench next to me as I dismounted from the carriage.  I thought about carrying it with me but that was foolish, enough wear and tear on the waxed cloth around the flatbreads and they would be exposed to moisture and contamination that would allow them to start going bad.  I quickly took Ma''s note out of the pouch and put it in my pouch that only had a sling and a few stones in it.  After Ma''s note was safe, I put the pouch inside the carriage in one of the cabinets next to the large bag of swine treats I''d stored there.

    After that, I quickly tied the reins to the fence and fed the swine that had pulled the carriage a treat each while I quickly checked their harness and gave them head-scratches.  When no harness or injuries were found, I walked around the fence and stepped up onto the inn''s porch.

    Lieutenant Davis looked at me as I walked up.  "Allen, go inside.  The doctor has been waiting for you, he wants to see your carriage.  You will probably be tasked to load with some of the less critical medical supplies.  You said the carriage could carry two hundred kilos of cargo without overloading, right?"

    After a brief moment remembering the discussion about the carriage with Granpa the night before, I responded.  "Yes, sir."  The carriage would actually carry over three hundred extra kilos easily, according to Granpa, but I didn''t want to add that much work for the swine.  Not for hauling supplies when we had horses and elefants available.

    "That should be enough to carry a bunch of bandages and other basic medical supplies." The lieutenant replied.  "Go on, the doctor is waiting on you."

    I remembered thinking that I had told them when to expect me, and I was there within minutes of full sunup, as I said I would be.  All I could think was that I was starting the first day being told to work with someone who thought I was late.  I said nothing and tried not to feel annoyed as I quickly walked into the Inn and looked around for someone who might be a doctor.

    I saw the lieutenant look at me, with a little smile, but he didn''t say anything so I pretended not to notice.

    The militia doctor was easily findable.  He was sitting at a table with the town doctor, Sara Eliza, and they were both drinking tea and eating eggs as they watched me walk in the door.  He was a balding, dark-skinned man with tight grey curling hear wearing the grey militia uniform with black boots.  She was a middle-aged woman with long blond hair starting to go grey at the temples, wearing a pair of heavy, loose light blue pants and a white blouse.

    Doctor Eliza smiled.  "Hello, Allen."

    I looked from one of them to the other.  They were clearly in no rush.  They didn''t seem to be waiting for me.

    The doctor that I didn''t know smiled.  "Don''t worry about it, son, we overheard.  The officers all use the same tactic.  They tell you that the person they want you to go see is waiting for you, so you move faster."  He paused.  "Works pretty well, for the most part, eh?"

    I had to admit, it had worked on me.  "Seems so, sir."

    He chuckled, and reached out a hand to shake.  I took a half step closer and shook hands with him and he continued to talk.  "I''m Doc Sten.  Retired last year, but apparently not for long.  After breakfast, we''ll go look at your carriage.  Sergeant Gonzalez''s description of the carriage he helped your family design for you seems like it will be an excellent place to store medical supplies so they can be accessed quickly and easily, in separate storage containers.  It might also make a good ambulance or even a surgical bed at need, though I hope to not need it for either of those reasons."

    I hadn''t even considered that the carriage might be used for those purposes.  I swallowed at the mental image of surgery on the bed.  "I hope that''s not needed either, but if it is, then it is, sir."

    Doc Sten narrowed his eyes at me as he took another bite of eggs.  "You seem a mite thin, son, even for a clearly-growing teenager.  Do you eat regularly?  Sit down."

    I obeyed, pulling out a seat and sitting in it.

    The doctor paused a moment, and then waved his hand in the air.  "Innkeep, please bring another cup, a pot of tea, a couple pieces of bread and butter, and an apple for the young skeleton here."  He looked at me as I started to object.  "I''m paying.  No arguments.  Unless you aren''t hungry?  I''ve never met a physically active boy your age that wasn''t hungry fifteen minutes after the last time they ate."

    I looked at Doctor Eliza who was smiling, but not saying anything, leaving me to explain myself.  She knew I was healthy.  She hadn''t been the town doctor when I was very young and my parents had asked the town doctor to give me a checkup, but she''d asked the same sorts of questions when she saw me for health checkups in school.  She''d insisted that I do strength and endurance tests in front of her because she was a little worried that I was malnourished.

    Left to my own defenses, I replied.  "Sir, I''ve been like this since I was a toddler.  Almost no body fat, and very compact muscle.  Ma and Pa thought I was allergic to something.  This was before Doctor Eliza was town doctor."

    Doctor Eliza nodded as Doctor Sten looked at her.  "Yes.  It''s in his files."

    After Doctor Sten looked at me again, he rolled his hand in front of him.  "Go on."

    I continued, nervous, but they were doctors, and I was going to be working with at least one of them to some extent.  "No diseases, no tapeworms, and Ma feeds me as well as anyone else.  I don''t eat as much as the rest of my male relatives, but they all outweigh me by at least thirty kilos.  Pa and Edward by sixty or seventy kilos.  I eat a lot more than most people my weight, even though I''ve got a lot less muscle than most people my weight because of my height and bone mass."  I shrugged.  "I have zero problems with endurance.  If I can do something with fairly minimal effort, I can do it without running out of energy until my liver is out of sugars.  I''ve not met a person that can match me in a long run if I''ve been eating well.  In a very long run, I''ll outrun a horse, but I have to carry food for that long of a run."

    Doctor Sten took another bite of eggs and chewed, thinking.  "You''re clearly not physically weak either, or you wouldn''t be in front of me right now after the militia testing."  He looked at Doctor Eliza.  "Hyperthyroid and dominant type 1 muscle?  Maybe a secondary IGF-1 gene expression?"

    She shrugged.  "I thought so too.  It seems plausible."  Her voice grew deeper and annoyed-sounding, briefly.  "Maybe one day Albert will let us use genetics for more than educated guesswork again."  She shook her head.  "Sorry.  Allen''s definitely got an odd genetic makeup, especially for around here.  His mother came from New Ireland, where hyperthyroidism and above-average height is fairly common.  IGF-1 dual expression was part of the original genetic makeup of a lot of the settlers in this area according to the records.  Based on tested physical performance, it still seems fairly common around here in New Charleston farming communities.  Type 1 muscle would fit Allen too, but I have no idea where those genes might have come from.  Nobody in Allen''s family based on my records come from genetic stock with Type 1 muscle."  She shrugged and grinned at me.  "He''s not joking about the horse.  It wasn''t a trotter with a lightweight jockey, but it was only a twenty kilometer race, the rider wasn''t a big man, and he beat the horse.  I made a few fisc that day, betting on him."

    I was getting uncomfortable being talked about by the doctors as they slowly ate eggs and looked at me.

    Doctor Sten smiled as Mr. Cambel brought the food and tea to the table.  "Thank you, good man, the eggs are quite delicious."

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    Mr. Cambel said "You''re welcome, sir." as he went back into the area between the bar and the kitchen where he was preparing vegetables or roots, based on the peeling noises I was hearing.

    Doctor Sten looked at me.  "Sorry to embarrass you, son, but you''ve got a remarkable physique.  Most persons with your height and weight would be unhealthy, even at your age.  Doctors being what we are, we''re always looking for outliers, people who are different.  We can''t learn much from people who are just like everyone else."

    That made some sense.  Doctor Eliza had pretty much said the same thing years ago when she''d tested me.  "I suppose I understand sir, and I don''t mind answering questions, but it was a bit abrupt.  Caught me off guard."

    They both laughed.

    "You were right, Sara, I''m sure we''ll get along."  Doctor Sten grinned at me.

    I looked at Doctor Eliza, and she smiled back.  "I told him that you two would probably get along.  I did my internship under Doctor Sten."  She punched him in the arm, rocking him in his chair slightly.  "He''s from a farm family, he''s always said.  Even though he knows nothing about farming."

    "Careful with that mean right hook, young lady, that might be elder abuse."  Doctor Sten looked at me.  "I grew up on a ranch, not a farm.  We raised animals, not vegetables.  It''s where I learned the beginnings of medicine, tending the cows and horses and helping the veterinarian whenever I could.  Ranch life and farm life aren''t so different."  Doctor Sten was looking at me with a twinkle in his eye.  "Isn''t that right, son?"

    "Never been a rancher, sir, so I can''t say with confidence."  I knew he expected me to say more, but I decided not to.  I''d said all I knew.  It also felt weirdly like he was testing me.  He seemed nice enough, but I really didn''t know what ranch life was like.  I concentrated on the bread and apple after pouring myself a cup of tea, and refilling the glasses of the others.

    When I didn''t continue speaking, after a few seconds, Doctor Sten snorted and added another spoonful of sugar to the newly filled glass before sipping his tea.  As he set the tea down and started eating his eggs again, he commented with a smile, "We''ll definitely get along.  Finish eating, Allen, and then let''s go take a look at that carriage of yours.  It sounds fascinating.  If it''s got a better sprung suspension than a farm wagon, I might ride with you, if that''s OK?  It''s been forty years since I was in a saddle, and my hips are killing me after yesterday''s ride."

    "Yes, sir.  The carriage is well-sprung.  Much better than a farm cart, and it''ll definitely be kinder on sore hips than a horse.  You will probably want a pillow after a bad day on a horse though."  Doctor Sten seemed satisfied with me.  I could only hope that we ended up getting along as well as he thought we would.  Especially since it was beginning to look like he was going to be riding with me, not just storing medical supplies in my carriage.

    With a smile, Doctor Eliza pushed her chair back and stood.  "Well, you boys have fun.  The Countyman said he had a small stock of a few medical supplies that had very long shelf lives in county storage.  I''ll see if there is anything you wanted, Doctor Sten, and get a message to you if there is.  I wish I could give you more from my own stocks, but we''ve already pulled out all I can afford to give without risking shortfalls for local health.  Especially with flu season coming."

    Doctor Sten nodded.  "Thank you, Sara, I have no complaints.  Saving everyone from starving to death won''t do us much good if the people back home die from influenza, pneumonia, or other shortages of medical supplies."

    As I finished my bread and apple, Doctor Sten stood and settled the bill with Mr. Cambel.  As we walked around the Inn to where I''d parked the carriage, I saw a child playing with Speedy, scratching her on the neck and feeding her bits of grass she''d pulled up from along the side of the Inn''s yard.  The other sows were looking on, but not being aggressive about getting to the food being given to Speedy.  Yet.

    "Please be careful young lady.  Do not put your hand in Speedy''s mouth and don''t turn your backs on the others if you are feeding only her.  If a hand goes in her mouth, its food, and you might not get it back."  She seemed familiar, but I couldn''t place her.

    "Your family sells us swine every year, Allen."  She thought for a second.  "You didn''t recognize me, did you?  I''m Celia, the marina master''s second-youngest daughter.  I''ve been walking your swine up and down the coast for years and still have all my fingers."

    "Seems like you''ve grown up a bit since last year, Celia." I smiled.  She definitely had, which was why I hadn''t recognized her.  At least several inches in height, and starting to fill out in the hips and bosom a bit.  She was probably thirteen now.

    She blushed a bit.  "You''re taking them with you?  Even the little one here with juvenile stripes?"

    I nodded.  "I''ll be foraging with them.  They can feed themselves, and help me drag food out of the woods for the militia."

    "I was afraid to feed the big ones up front.  They are adult males?  They are really big."

    I thought about letting her feed acorn treats to the boars, but decided against it.  I didn''t want to encourage her to interact with adult boars.  "Yes.  Hoss and Bigboy are adult males, boars, it was probably good that you didn''t feed them.  They can be aggressive about food.  More aggressive than juvenile and squeaker sows like Speedy and the others behind the wagon here."  All true.  Perhaps a little unclear about exactly how dangerous they really were, but everyone knew that horses could hurt you bad if you treated them wrong.  The same was definitely true for full-grown adult boars.

    "Thanks for not being mad at me for feeding the little one, Allen.  She''s a cutie."  Her voice got a bit sad.  "Kell was drafted, and I came up here with him to take his horse back.  I''ve got to go now.  There''s nets to be mended so the fishermen can keep fishing, and Pa will be mad if I stay away too long!"  She ran across the road and untied the reins of a pony and horse next to one another, hopping up onto the pony and leading the horse away at a walk through the busy street.

    Several others had overheard the conversation.  A couple were shaking their heads at Celia''s abrupt departure.  As I turned towards Doctor Sten, he grinned.  "Ah, youth."  Then he took a couple steps to the side and looked at the front of the carriage.  "Sergeant Gonzalez and the other officers didn''t mention that swine pulled your carriage.  Very uncommon.  I''ve seen swine in harness hauling carts, but only a couple times.  I''ve never seen a carriage pulled by swine.  Is carrying a passenger and some cargo going to be a problem?"

    "Not if we keep the total mass of cargo to something modest.  You plus a couple hundred kilos of supplies at most." I replied as I checked the leashes and harnesses to make sure Celia hadn''t played with them, and that the swine hadn''t been chewing on them.  I found no problems.

    "These are small swine, for adults", he commented, walking carefully, with slow movements next to the boars and sows in harness in front of the carriage.  "They have oddly short back legs too, and a narrower body."

    As he inspected the inside of the carriage and looked in the various compartments, we chatted about my family''s swine breeding program as he quickly sketched out the locations of the different compartments and wrote what he would want to put in them.

    He was a horse and cow man, and wasn''t aware that there were several distinct breeds of swine.  Or, rather, he wasn''t aware that there had once been several distinct breeds of swine.  There weren''t anymore, not on Nirvana, anyway.  Some of the oldest notes that still existed seemed to indicate the purity of even the original lines brought from Earth was questionable, because of how long the different breeds of swine had been intermixing.  Albert might be able to isolate the genetics of pure forest swine to make more, but that was the only way we''d see pure breeds again.  Over four thousand years of interbreeding had made it so that our family probably had about the purest genetic strain of forest swine, and our lines were loaded with domestic swine genetics.  We''d been forced to introduce domestic swine genes thousands of years ago, or risk genetic problems due to too small of a population of breeding animals.

    "Well, would you want pure forest swine again, for breeding stock?" Doctor Sten asked.  "Wouldn''t that be a throwback for your family''s swine stock?"

    I thought about it for a minute as he sketched and documented where he wanted things to go on the various storage areas in the carriage, except for the two largest cabinets which I claimed for myself and my swine.  I had to store swine treats and other supplies and my backpack with clothes somewhere.

    After a little consideration, I replied.  "It would certainly have the possibility of introducing unwanted traits, but it might also introduce new and benevolent traits.  We''d have to experiment carefully and watch the results, for generations.  Tractability in the short run would certainly be a problem.  In the warnings that have been copied for thousands of years, we have descriptions of the temperament of pure blooded forest swine.  They were originally very intractable, but also very smart.  Possibly smarter in some ways than our current breeds."  It was a fascinating idea, and I lost myself imagining how I would segregate and breed a pure strain forest swine.

    After a couple more minutes of sketching and thinking, Doctor Sten tapped me on the forehead, interrupting me in the middle of my plans for hypothetical purebred forest swine introduction to my current swine stock.  "Come on, young, strong back.  We have a few crates of medical supplies in the Inn that you''re going to carry for me.  I''ll pack the compartments in the carriage."

    We went inside and Doctor Sten showed me the thirty small crates of medical supplies.  As it turned out, he wanted the important medicines and equipment in the carriage, not the bulk bandages and antiseptics, which would be carried in larger wagons.  Even the opiates and metal surgical implements would be in the carriage, which worried me a bit.  They might be a theft target.  I hadn''t heard of any issues with habitual drug use in the community in recent years, but people rarely talked about their problems openly.  Metal doctor''s tools were fantastically expensive, and could easily be worth a thief''s time.  I sighed to myself.  I''d volunteered the carriage for military use.  As long as they didn''t force me to abuse it when it wasn''t necessary to abuse it, I couldn''t really object.

    It didn''t really make sense though.  The valuable medical goods could be stored in more secure wagons.  Some of the wagons were freight wagons, with full sides, and no windows.  The more valuable supplies could be stored far more securely there.

    I remembered wracking my brains, trying to figure out the answer to a simple question.  Why is he doing this?

    All of a sudden, as he stepped out of the carriage and it settled back on its suspension, a memory struck me.  When Doctor Sten had first stepped into the carriage, he had done so far more heavily than had been necessary.  Almost violently enough for me to get angry with him for needlessly being forceful.  As the carriage rocked on its leather and wood suspension, he had stood in the door, looking thoughtful for a moment before nodding to himself.  With that memory in my mind, and remembering his comment about his hips earlier, I realized what he was doing.  He was purposefully creating a situation where he had an excuse to ride on the carriage, even if someone, for whatever reason, tried to convince him otherwise.

    I needed to nip other ideas in the bud though, if he had them.  "I don''t mind you making certain that you will have a good reason to ride on the carriage, Doctor Sten, but I have to sleep in the carriage bunk.  The swine will be restrained underneath in a temporary pen at night.  I''m not sure how they would react to having an unfamiliar person sleeping above them.  At the very least, they would be restless, irritable, and noisy."

    Doctor Sten looked at me for a moment, and then smiled.  "I see.  Well figured, young man, but you don''t have to worry about your bunk or having your carriage taken from you.  My back prefers a hammock to a bed these days, and I have a nice one with a post frame that I can set up in the officer''s tent.  I just want to ensure that I can still walk when we get to the border.  We''ll be building semi-permanent facilities there anyway, since we may be there several months, and within a few days, all the medical supplies will be out of your wagon."

    I nodded.  "Understood sir."

    For the next hour or so, I carried boxes of medical supplies from the Inn to the carriage, and Doctor Sten carefully unpacked everything into the different carriage compartments, and had me stow the empty boxes on top of the carriage in the luggage area.  By the time the carriage was loaded, Teak and two other road crew elefants from New Charleston road services had moved out with their massive wagons with huge tanks of water and heavy supplies.  Ox-hauled cargo wagons had been next, as they were only slightly faster than elefants.  Almost everyone else was ready to move, either on foot, or with horse-drawn wagons.

    A short time after the last box had been carried downstairs from the room they had been stored in, Doctor Sten stepped out of the carriage again, swiping his hands together vertically in an almost-clap.  "Time for me to go report to the Captain that we are ready to move."

    He started walking towards the inn, and I followed after him.

    After a couple steps, he looked over his shoulder with a puzzled look on his face, and then he frowned.  "I''m sorry.  I must have forgotten to mention this to you.  One of the two of us has to be by the carriage at all times with the medical supplies in it.  Most of the time, that''s going to be you."

    "Oh.  I see."  I didn''t really see.  Other people could also guard the carriage.

    He laughed at me, briefly and really no more than a quick chuckle.

    I felt myself grow upset.  I wasn''t upset at him, I was upset at myself for my inability to hide my expressions.

    "Allen, Lieutenant Davis asked the Countyman which of the people we were getting had a history of fighting.  He wanted to know so you could be tested for an ability to learn spear handling more quickly, so you could, in turn help others learn.  Your name was on the list, along with three others.  That''s good for me, because I get a person next to the medical supplies who people from around here know might be willing to thump them if they try to steal anything from the carriage.  You do have permission to do non-lethal harm to any non-officer who refuses to take no for an answer, and tries to force access to the carriage.  You must tell them to stop trying to access the carriage before you use force, if that becomes necessary."

    He waited for me to nod before continuing.  "For the record, there are five officers: Captain Marko, Lieutenants Baker and Davis, Quartermaster Brown, and me.  Nobody else can tell you to get out of their way and give them access to the carriage.  That includes local government."  He shrugged.  "I don''t suspect the local sheriff or the Countyman is going to demand access to the medical supplies in the carriage, Allen, but it''s not impossible.  If they want access, at least one of the five of us militia officers will always be at the Inn, at least until we are out of town.  Send whoever wants access into the Inn."

    I nodded, not trusting myself to speak quite yet, and walked two steps back to the carriage.  I normally only carried my staff in the woods, but if I was playing guard, then I supposed I should do it right.  I opened the carriage door, reaching in and pulling the staff out of the ceiling net.

    Then it hit me, and I turned, rapidly.  "Sir, is Lieutenant Davis aware that I will not be able to forage properly until we have another place to store the valuable medical supplies?  The two of us had an agreement that my swine and I would have to be a net benefit to the militia food foraging situation if I wanted the swine to avoid being slaughtered.  I didn''t bring them to have them become militia rations."

    "Don''t worry, Allen.  This responsibility is very temporary.  We''ll arrive mid-day tomorrow at the border, and my medical building will be one of the first buildings to go up, because I will need to prepare centrifuges to separate plasma drawn from the first few people to get the flu, so I can treat new cases with convalescent plasma.  You can feed them at the side of the road for a couple nights if need be, and they won''t be a drain on the food supply.  I know that much about swine."

    I was fairly certain that he was telling the truth, so I tried not to clench my fist too hard on the staff as I stared at him for a couple seconds and nodded.  "Yes, sir."

    <hr />

    If anyone has been trying to read the chapter the first five times I created and deleted it because of atrocious RR formatting problems, sorry :(

    I''ve figured out how to get proper formatting in RR though.  I think.

    First, Copy from Word, into Wordpress.  Then copy from Wordpress into Notepad.  Then substitute Wordpress <> and </> codes for [] and [/] codes.  Then copy the Notepad data with the new codes into Word, so the sentence spacing will be preserved in RR.  Then, finally, copy the much-masticated chapter into RR.

    It would be so much nicer if RR would just directly accept formatting from Word, like Wordpress does :(

 Chapter 10

    A voice that I did not want to hear spoke loudly, nearby.  "Hey look, my good buddy, Allen the pig-boy, has brought us dinner!  Pork on the hoof!"

    My head whipped around to bring the speaker into view, and I slowly turned my body afterwards, my fist tightening on my staff.  I didn''t need to see the face to know that voice.  I did, however, need to see the speaker because I didn''t trust him at all.  Rikard.  Two years older than me, I''d fought with him twice in school, for a damn good reason I wasn''t supposed to talk about.  If he hadn''t failed grades, twice, we probably would have never crossed paths.  Even the Countyman hadn''t given me much grief about my fights with Rikard.  It was my most recent fight, with Clark, that had gotten the Countyman very angry with me, and even I had to admit that fight had been pretty stupid.

    I shook my head as I looked at Rikard, instantly angry at his presence, thinking to myself,  He''s not supposed to speak to me, and that''s the Countyman''s orders. What is he thinking?

    Rikard was walking next to two of what were clearly his relatives by their similar appearances.  Both of the other men were looking at Rikard like he was stupid. All three of them were carrying one small crate each, tucked securely under one of their arms.  Each crate was marked with red paint, clearly indicating fragile contents.

    Slowly, I made myself speak.  "Rikard, I''m still not sixteen yet, and the other two times you threatened harm to my swine to try to get me to do what you wanted didn''t end up going in your favor, did it?"  I glared at him, and he smiled back at me, seemingly unconcerned.  Idiot, I thought to myself as I saw that his nose hadn''t healed quite straight after our second fight.  Unfortunately, it didn''t look like it was crooked enough to impact his breathing.  "What do you want?  You aren''t supposed to talk to me anymore.  I was there when the Countyman told us both that we weren''t to speak to each other except in case of emergency."

    Rikard started to speak, and one of his relatives, whose name I thought was Dan or Don, reached over with his hand that wasn''t holding a crate and put it over Rikard''s mouth.  His hand had started moving before Rikard had even started talking.  "Shut up, Rik."

    Reaching up with a meaty hand, Rikard gripped the hand touching his face, stared at Dan or Don, and pushed the hand away from his mouth, but said nothing.  Unlike the last time I''d seen Rikard''s hands, they were now thick with callous and ground-in dirt.  He was also carrying less extra weight.  It looked like he''d been doing real work after he finally managed to graduate.  The farm kids had noticed those soft hands, and most agreed that he was so bad in school that his parents had allowed him to study instead of do chores.  I wasn''t entirely convinced that Rikard was as stupid as he had seemed to be.  He seemed more lazy than stupid, always trying to get what he wanted with the least effort possible, even if the less difficult way was the more dangerous way.  Not that there was much difference between lazy and stupid when you lived on a farm.  You can cheat in school and you can try to make other people do what you want by threatening them, but you can''t cheat nature.

    "The Quartermaster told us to put these in your carriage if you could."  Rikard''s relative said.  I had been hoping his name would have been mentioned, but names weren''t necessarily required.

    "How much do they mass?" I asked, keeping all three of them in view as they stepped closer.  I didn''t want Rikard within a lunging reach of me.

    Fortunately, I had reason to ask them to stop.  "Please stop there.  The militia doctor, Doctor Sten, indicated nobody but he or I am to access the carriage, since it''s been loaded with medical supplies."

    "Afraid of me?" Rikard grinned.

    Rikard''s other relative, who seemed a couple years older, and who I didn''t know at all, smacked him in the arm with his free elbow.  "Don said shut up, Rik, so shut up."

    Don, I thought, grateful that his name had been used.

    After a quick glance at Don, who had clearly not missed the elbow, Rikard said nothing, staring at the other relative, who stared back until Rikard looked away.

    I''d be a fool to not be afraid of you, idiot.  You''re at least twenty centimeters shorter than me, outweigh me by fifty or sixty kilos, maybe more, and could probably crumple me up like a handful of tinder if I let you grab me.  And you seem to be in better shape than you were when I fought you last, I thought, as I intently watched him take another step forward before Don stopped walking and put his arm up to stop Rikard.  The other fellow stopped too.

    Don looked from me to Rikard, and I cursed my easily-read expressions as he frowned.  "Rik, put your crate down and step back three steps.  We''ll talk about this later."

    As Rikard started to put the crate down faster than a fragile package should be put down, his other relative put a hand on his shoulder.  "Fragile, Rik.  You break a centrifuge, you might just be killing yourself this flu season."

    Glaring at the fellow I didn''t know, Rikard carefully put the crate down and stepped back.  As he stepped back he stared at me, his face expressionless.

    Don looked at me.  "I''m glad we live on opposite sides of town, Allen.  You two are toxic together."

    "I''m not..." I began to protest.

    Don raised his right hand.  "Stop.  I''m not taking sides.  You two have fought twice, and he lost both times, and I''m certain I know why."

    You shouldn''t know why. I thought.  The Countyman said he would only tell Rikard''s pa and ma, and we were only allowed to tell our parents.  But you can think you know why.

    "Rik holds a grudge, even when he''s in the wrong.  He''s still family, and I have no doubt what the outcome of another fight would be, especially with you having a staff, Allen.  Emerald and I would have to restrain the two of you.  I''d rather not have to try to do that, but I won''t let you possibly cripple him with a weapon."  He looked at Rikard, clearly disappointed.

    I noted the other man''s name, Emerald, and then nodded to Don.  "I understand.  Still, please don''t come any closer.  Doctor Sten''s orders.  Medical supplies in the carriage."

    Don and Emerald both looked at me, and then the carriage, thoughtfully.  Even more worrisome was the fact that Rikard was also looking back and forth between me and the carriage, and clearly thinking.

    "Less than thirty kilos?" I asked Don.  None of the three had seemed burdened by their carried crates, and when Rikard had put his down, it had seemed to be a casual weight for him.

    Don nodded.  "Yes, closer to twenty, I''d say."  He carefully took the box out from under his arm and held it with both hands as he looked at the stenciled lettering on it.  Ah, I was wrong.  It''s got twenty-eight kilos marked on it."

    Emerald looked at his own box, and then leaned over Rikard''s box as well.  "These are both listed at the same mass, twenty-eight kilos."

    After a second to think about it, I nodded.  "Eighty-four kilos is doable, but tell the quartermaster I can''t take more mass.  The doctor will also be riding with me as well.  If Quartermaster Brown runs into cargo volume problems, I can load a less dense package, but something of roughly equivalent mass will have to come off, if he wants that to happen.  It''s a light carriage."

    Nodding as if he agreed with me, Don commented, "He said he just wanted the centrifuges off the wagons.  He wasn''t so sure they were well enough protected to be riding in a wagon, and he found out a carriage was available."

    "Understood, Don.  You can set them down there, I''ll put them in the carriage."  I set my staff against the swineherd carriage and walked forward, picking up the crate that Rikard had been carrying, while being very careful to keep all three of them in my field of vision.  As I stood, lifting with my legs rather than my back, I saw Rikard smirking at me as I picked up the crate with some visible effort.  Nearly thirty kilos wasn''t a casual weight for me to pick up off the ground.  The difficulty was partly due to my height, and partly due to my strength.  It wasn''t hard for me to carry that much in a good pack though.  I made an effort to not respond to his clear amusement.

    Don and Emerald set down their crates as well, carefully, and stepped back as Don commented, "Quartermaster Brown said we have to see the crates get packed before we leave you."

    "I understand, Don, it won''t take long."  I set the first crate in the carriage as I finished the sentence.

    Moving the centrifuges to the carriage made sense to me.  Wagons were brutal on fragile cargo.  Anything that couldn''t take a beating in transit typically travelled by either boat, or carriage.  There were wagons with carriage suspensions, but they were rare.  Even carriages and wagons with carriage suspensions didn''t have smooth enough rides for some cargo.  Ideally, knowing how important they were, centrifuges should probably get moved like fine glassware.

    Fine glassware manufacturers used barge wagons for their fragile products, with ten or more wheels, hauled by twenty or more oxen.  Elefants could pull barge wagons, but two elefants in harness together was extremely rare, and single elefants were not strong enough to start such a heavy load without jerking it heavily.  A jerking start was simply a bad idea for barge wagons.  The beds of barge wagons were filled with water, and a small barge floated in that water.  The bottoms and sides of the barge were protected with leather bags filled with sponges.  In essence, a barge wagon was a mobile pond with a raft in it.  They were limited to mostly-flat roads because of the water in the wagon bed.

    The sheer mass of loaded barge wagons made them extremely high maintenance transport.  According to the barge waggoneers who occasionally brought their specialty wagons to the school so practical engineering and physics could be taught to students, every five hundred kilometers, the axles had to be replaced and the wheels replaced or rebuilt.  The bed required re-sealing every trip and the wagon bed itself required rebuilding about every thousand kilometers.  I hadn''t seen a barge wagon today.  I imagined that the militia didn''t want transport specifically designed for extremely fragile glassworks.

    Or if they do, they are using it to haul gunpowder and nitrocellulose, I thought, shuddering, almost dropping the second crate as I carried it to the carriage.

    "You sure you''re OK there?" Don asked, apparently having seen me stumble.

    "I''m fine.  I just realized that I didn''t see the Finch and Krupp barge wagon today.  I was thinking that it might be going to the quarry to get a load of gunpowder and nitrocellulose."

    Don, Rikard, and Emerald all looked at me with expressions of distaste bordering on horror.  It wasn''t really directed at me, I knew.  "That was my reaction too, but I was carrying something."  I shrugged and kept walking to the carriage with the crate.

    After I walked back, I heard Rikard mutter something as I picked up the last crate.  I barely heard the last half of it.  "...idiot.  They would never use gunpowder."

    Don replied, not looking at me, but speaking loudly enough that I could clearly hear him.  "I think you''re wrong.  I''d put money on him being right.  I didn''t see the barge wagon either, and I know gunpowder has been used in wars.  Just because you don''t like him doesn''t mean he''s stupid."

    Did Rikard''s family actively dislike him, and only deal with him because he was their blood?  It certainly seemed that way.  Not that Don had actively sided with me, but he''d definitely not sided with Rikard, and Emerald didn''t seem upset at all that Don dealt with Rikard fairly abrasively.

    Still.  Explosives used against people.  The thought made me want to sick up, and I stumbled again a little bit.  Without metal, firearms like the ancients had used against one another were impractical, almost impossible.  There were stories about people trying to create gunpowder hunting weapons out of extremely hard woods, with leather and various fiber wrappings like silk or nylon.  Most of those rumored attempts were supposed to have failed miserably, usually catastrophically, earning the inventor a Darwin Award if they were unlucky or serious injuries otherwise.  Nobody was stupid enough to try to make nonmetallic firearms that used nitrocellulose as a propellant.

    I shook my head, trying to get rid of the graphic images of death and destruction from mankind''s wars that had been included in the history of violence classes.  A good bow was far more accurate and powerful for hunting than a crude gunpowder weapon made without metals, and much safer, so gunpowder was mostly used in long fuses for nitrocellulose charges in quarries and other excavation work.

    I placed the third crate in the carriage, and adjusted the positions of all three.  When Doctor Sten returned, I''d probably put a blanket under the crates to give them a little more cushion and prevent them from sliding as easily.  As I closed the carriage door and turned around, I saw Don, Rikard and Emerald turning to leave.

    Don gave me a curt wave of dismissal, touching his hand to his forehead as I turned to face them, not friendly, not unfriendly.  He clearly wanted to get some away quickly, and slapped Rikard on the shoulder with a little more force than what might be considered friendly.  Emerald looked at the two others, and then at me, saying nothing before turning his eyes away from me and falling into position, walking on the other side of Rikard from Don.

    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    "I suppose one good thing might come from this war." Rikard said to Don as they were walking away.

    Don, clearly reluctantly, asked "What would that be?"

    Rikard was pretending to turn to look at Don, but was clearly watching me in his peripheral vision as well as he carefully said, "Marza might come to her senses and decide to marry me, if pig-boy doesn''t make it home."

    "You will not even say her name, animal," I grated out as my vision went red.  I took three quick steps forward and thrust my staff at Rikard''s side.  I wanted to break something of his but didn''t want to kill him.  Killing him wouldn''t let him feel pain.

    It was probably fortunate that Emerald and Don immediately turned to face me as Rikard''s words ended, and they realized what he''d said.  Don pushed Rikard away from me, hard, and Emerald grabbed my staff with both hands and pulled it towards himself.  Between Emerald''s quick grab and Don''s push, my staff merely glanced off Rikard''s ribs instead of breaking a couple of them.  I let go of the staff, and took one step towards Rikard before Don stepped in front of me and grabbed my forearms.  I hadn''t been expecting him to grapple me, and I cursed myself as I realized that I''d just attacked three full grown men, and gotten myself grappled by one of them.

    I struggled as hard as I could, with no success at all, barely even able to budge Don''s arms as he spoke, though there were a few brief hesitations in his voice as he concentrated on me when I changed how I struggled against him.  "Emerald, drop Allen''s staff and get Rikard back to Quartermaster Brown at the loading area.  I''ll follow as soon as I''m sure Allen here isn''t going to pick up his staff and try to break one of us with it."  He paused.  "I don''t think we would be as lucky next time if he comes at us expecting all three of us to resist him.  Someone would be hurt, badly, I fear."

    Rikard stood, favoring his side a little where my staff had clipped him, pointing at me.  "Did you see that, he attacked me!"

    I spit at Rikard, over Don''s shoulder.  Don jerked back a bit, and I tried to break free again.  Despite his reflexive avoidance of my spitting, I couldn''t break Don''s grip, so I just hissed a response, angry enough to forget that I wasn''t supposed to tell anyone what had happened that day.  "You tried to rape her on the day before your sixteenth birthday, because you knew it wouldn''t count towards prison colony time, even if you did end up getting sent to the county jail for a couple years.  You tried to threaten my swine with poisoning if I said anything when I found you two in the woods, following Marza''s yells."  I glared at Rikard as Don''s fists got even tighter on my arms.  "If you somehow managed to arrange a marriage with her, you''d be on your way to a prison colony after the third time you tried to have sex with her, because it would be violent rape every time."

    Don spoke, urgently, and in a low tone.  "Stop this.  Now."

    A thought struck me.   I ignored Don and smiled a wolf''s smile at Rikard, baring my teeth.  Don got a frightened look on his face and his hands grew tighter on my arms.  I continued, angrily, "That is, if the Gonzalez family men didn''t just pick straws to see who would kill you and go to jail for a few years for taking out the garbage.  You missed your chance to get into the gene pool when you tried to rape a thirteen-year-old.  Your own right hand probably doesn''t want anything to do with you."

    Rikard looked at Don holding me, and started to walk towards me, smiling a little while balling his fists.  I struggled harder, and Don''s arms actually moved a little.

    Don, quietly, said "I will let him go if you take one step closer, Rikard.  Emerald, drop the damned staff and get Rik out of here before he says or does something even more stupid."

    Rikard hesitated, and my eyes bored into his.  Remembering Ma''s advice, all of a sudden, I didn''t just stare into his eyes, I watched what his pupils were doing.  I saw his hesitation, as his eyes flickered away from me, towards Don, and he stopped in place.  His pupils danced back and forth a couple times between Don and me.  Don was also watching Rikard with a cold look, but his fists were still locked tight on my forearms.

    Emerald dropped the staff, kicked it away from him.  As the staff rolled, it rattled over the cobbles until it came to a stop against the fence of the Countyman''s home a few feet away from me.  Emerald hastily grabbed Rikard by the arm, speaking severely, but not loudly.  "You come with me.  Now.  I told your pa that he shouldn''t have chosen you, because you would be trouble."  He paused, and in a menacing low tone, spoke.  "Maybe now I understand why he really sent you.  The fact that Don isn''t saying anything to defend you means the rumors were apparently not just rumors."

    Emerald glanced at Don as he spoke and Don nodded.  Emerald''s expression got even grimmer.

    Rikard glared at all three of us, in turn, before shrugging and allowing Emerald to drag him away, while commenting over his shoulder.  "Even if I can''t have Marza, I''ll be happy enough if you don''t make it home."

    I threw myself forward, pushing with my legs against the ground as hard as I could, while simultaneously pulling my arms apart, rather than just trying to pull them away.  I almost got loose from his grip, but not quite.

    Don did have to take a step back and nearly lost his balance as he struggled to keep his grip on me.  His hands clamped down even tighter on my forearms, and I gasped in pain as my bones compressed.  All of Don''s attention was on me, and I tried to head butt him, but he had been drawing my forearms together again, and lifting them to my shoulder level.  My head missed him without him even needing to jerk his head back.  I tried to knee him, but he locked his knees together in time to trap my leg.

    Don shook me like a rag, briefly.  "Allen, I spent some time with family in another county learning about cattle ranching.  I''ve wrestled calves three times as heavy as you.  You aren''t getting away from me, but I won''t hold you for him either, if he doesn''t leave like I''m trying to get him to do."

    As Don finished explaining to me that I wasn''t getting away from him, Emerald turned to Rikard and slapped him, a resounding slap that sounded almost like a whip crack.  As Rikard looked at him, stunned, Emerald leaned forward in a furious, low toned verbal assault that I barely heard.  "You just don''t know when to shut up, do you, boy?  You tried to rape the girl who he''s planning on marrying, you threaten the animals that are his livelihood, and then you make hopeful comments about him dying when you are both going to war in the same militia unit?  How many kinds of idiot are you trying to be today?"

    Rikard looked like he was actually thinking about resisting Emerald, but that wasn''t happening.  Emerald simply jerked him hard, almost pulling him off his feet, dragging Rikard down the road.  "Don''t even think about it, boy.  I didn''t really hurt you, I just got your attention.  Shut your mouth and come with me."

    I wasn''t entirely certain Albert would agree with that assessment, but I couldn''t imagine Rikard trying to bring a complaint to the Countyman about it.  I didn''t think he was that stupid.

    As Rikard and Emerald walked away, Don watched.  After a few seconds, when they didn''t appear to be stopping, he turned to me.  "If I let you go, are you going to try to catch him and fight him again?  Or me?"  He stared into my eyes.  "I''m pretty good at knowing when folks lie.  Got plenty of practice with that one, and had to set straight some of the other relatives younger than him, who tried to follow in his footsteps."  His head jerked a bit in the direction where I could still see Rikard being dragged off by Emerald.

    "If I was going to lie, I''d do it a lot better than he could."  I stared at Don.

    After a moment, he started shaking a bit.  As the smile started, I realized the shaking was him chuckling without letting it out.  "No.  No you wouldn''t.  You have a face like an open book.  That''s one thing Rik is actually quite good at.  Lying.  Even though he''s not as smart as he thinks he is, he''s not as stupid as he tries to appear.  Not when he has time to try to think things through."

    "As much as I hate to admit that he''s better at anything than me, other than lifting heavy things, I think you''re right."  I paused.  "You knew?  I thought the Countyman only told his pa, since I stopped it?"

    Don looked at me, clearly more interested in getting my answer than giving one of his own.  "Are you going to go after him, or me, or can I let you go?"

    "No.  I won''t go after either of you.  I''m going to have to talk to the officers and maybe the Countyman about it though.  I can''t let his threat pass.  Not with our history."  I met Don''s eyes, challenging him to say I was lying, or mistaken about how serious the problem was.

    Don sighed and released my arms, watching me closely as I walked over to pick up my staff.  "His pa is my uncle.  We''re almost twenty years apart, but despite our age difference, his pa and I always got along very well, almost like brothers." He began, pausing before continuing.  "Some burdens are too heavy to bear alone.  I help Rik''s pa bear the burden of knowing something is wrong in Rik''s head.  His ma has never believed anything is wrong with her boy.  Despite the fact that she''s an otherwise excellent person in every way, she just can''t see any bad in Rik."

    There wasn''t much I could say to that, other than the obvious.  "But he''s family."

    Don sighed.  "Exactly.  He''s family.  One of us until he does something too heinous, like almost happened when you stopped the rape.  Thankfully there aren''t any others like him in the family."  Another pause, Don''s eyes closed briefly in a pained facial expression, and then he opened his eyes and continued.  "Unless they are a whole lot better at lying than Rik, which doesn''t seem likely."

    He stopped watching me as closely and his shoulders slumped a little bit, not in defeat, but just the slump of a man bearing a heavy load.  "Between us, his Pa and I thought we were making a change in him in the last few months.  He''s actually been working pretty hard, with few complaints, actually being helpful.  Emerald was wrong about why his pa sent him.  It wasn''t to get him away, and hope he wouldn''t come back.  It''s because he''s the weakest link and we were hoping he''d come back stronger.  Not that much of a difference, but it is a difference."

    I grunted, noncommittally.  Don seemed to be trying to paint Rikard in a better light than I''d ever be willing to see him in.

    After my grunt, Don shook his head a little and frowned.  "Like I said before, Rik was never really stupid.  After he finally finished school, and started having to work around the different family farms, it was a combination of collapsing complex lies and several pretty clever ideas to make things easier that made us realize he was a lot smarter than he''d been pretending to be.  It''s pretty hard to hide intelligence when you''re motivated to use it to make your life easier."

    He clearly wasn''t finished so I said nothing, just politely letting him speak.  I hadn''t heard anything yet to make me change my belief that Rikard''s best contribution to the world would be after he was cremated, when his ashes were spread in his family''s fields.

    Don''s fists clenched, which got my undivided attention before they relaxed again.  Then he looked up, avoiding looking at me, as he continued.  "He''s short-sighted about consequences though.  If he''d actually used his brains in school to learn, instead of pretending to have been brain-addled by a fall from a horse so he wouldn''t have to do chores for three years, we could have sent him to university.  The family farms are successful enough that we might have been able to get him the education needed to learn how to do a job that would put callouses on his backside rather than his hands."  He turned his head away from me and spat on the cobbles.  "After he failed two years of school in a row, no university will take him now.  Except, maybe, as a janitor or groundskeeper."  He looked at me with a sad face.  "After what Rik tried to do to Marza though, his pa and I would do what we could to sabotage any efforts of his to get a job like that, unless we saw long-term improvement in his behavior.  Too many young women at university, too much temptation to try the same thing again."  He looked at me, and sighed as he turned to walk towards the loading area.  "I''ve said too much.  I hate to say this about my own family, but watch your back.  Carefully."

    During the last few seconds of the conversation, I realized that I had completely misread Don''s intent.  He hadn''t been trying to make me see Rikard in a better light, he''d been warning me to not underestimate him.  I couldn''t imagine how much that must have hurt Don to say that about family.  "I understand, Don.  Thank you."

    Don said nothing as he walked away, just raising his right hand jerkily while nodding his chin down and to the right, wordlessly acknowledging what I''d said.

 Chapter 11

    Doctor Sten pursed his lips and thought for a second.  "No.  That can''t happen right now.  We can''t interrupt our movement for some sort of a disciplinary hearing."

    "But..." I tried to break in.

    The doctor kept speaking, not even acknowledging that I had tried to break in.  "After we stop for the day, you might be able to get the lieutenant''s attention.  I wouldn''t suggest it.  Not tonight - unless you think you or your swine are in immediate danger.  The officers are herding cats right now, trying to keep everything together.  What we are doing now is at least as important as the year-end cattle drive to market."  His eyebrows drew down a bit.  "Or a harvest."

    I started to speak again bit didn''t even get a word in.  "Stop."  He stared into my eyes for a second, and there was a hardness there that I hadn''t seen before, but didn''t seem out of place.  He held up a hand, and my eyes tracked to the hand.  The index finger raised.  "You said he has relatives that seem to be trying to contain him to some degree."  He raised the middle finger.  "I am going to be around you during most waking hours."  The ring finger was next.  "You will be sleeping in this carriage, which will itself be parked inside the guarded part of the camp, near the rest of the supplies and the officers'' tent."  With a tight, very brief smile, he raised his pinkie finger.  "And I''ve already said no."

    I stood there for a moment before realizing that he was certainly right, and even if he weren''t right, he was an officer.

    Doctor Sten didn''t hesitate, however, slapping me on the shoulder lightly before I could fully complete my thoughts.  "Put the staff away and get the carriage turned around so we can move out with the rest."

    I nodded, untied the reins from the fence and carefully juggled staff and reins as I climbed up onto the carriage''s bench.  Once I was standing on the footboard, I set my staff in the wood and leather cup that would normally be used to fit a second lantern post, a flag or marker on a pole, or a sunshade if I ever decided to make one.  It would work nicely for keeping my staff handy as well.

    Before I could turn around to offer a hand up, Doctor Sten slapped the pillow he''d bought from Innkeeper Cambel onto the bench before pulling himself up as well, moving a bit stiffly, with a grimace but without hesitation.  His moderately round stomach was more visible as he climbed up the side of the carriage, surprising me a bit - he hadn''t seemed to be carrying extra weight before.  Completely out of nowhere, a thought struck me as I watched him climb.  He''s roughly Granpa''s age.  I wonder how different things would be if Granpa hadn''t lost his foot.

    I watched him, ready to offer a hand if needed, but there was no need.

    He smiled, this time with humor in his eyes, as he adjusted the pillow with one hand as he turned to sit.  "My backside and hips hurt from the ride yesterday, but I''m not crippled yet."

    "Apparently not." I replied.  "I don''t reserve help for cripples though.  If a hand up next time makes it hurt less, ask for it."

    He nodded, though he didn''t answer.  He didn''t seem upset either.

    I twitched the reins and watched the team, especially Hoss and Bigboy who were less commonly used in harness.  The swines'' ears all twitched, listening for the new command, which I supplied.  "Walk"

    Since they would never be ridden, I did not train my swine to follow rein-only commands.  That was mostly because swine harness didn''t include anything in their mouths.  The reins attached to their harness across the back, and were only used to make sure everyone was paying attention before the verbal command was given.  The only command they would follow without a twitch of the reins first was ''whoah.''  That command was even more uniform than horn calls on farms.  People might train their animals to respond to directional and speed changes in harness to other words or even whistles and clicks, but everyone taught their harness or riding animals to stop to ''whoah.''  My swine were no exception.

    I realized then that there was another reason I''d been trained to teach the swine to respond to rein-indicated commands when in harness.  The animals behind the carriage would ignore the commands, even if they were harness trained.  The thought of either Hoss or Bigboy being behind the wagon and trying to respond to turning commands given to a team in front of the carriage brought a chuckle at first, and then the chuckle died with a sober realization that they could damage the carriage suspension or even collapse the wheels sideways and tumble the carriage if the command was at more than a slow walk, especially if the carriage was loaded.

    Doctor Sten was watching both me and my team with obvious interest as I drove, but said nothing.

    "You can talk while I''m driving, as long as you don''t use command words when I flick the reins." I volunteered to him.  "They probably won''t respond to a verbal command from you, even if you timed it right, without some familiarization, but if you say it at the right time..." I shrugged.  I didn''t need to explain it all to him, if he came from a ranch, I was certain.

    He looked behind us, where the swine following us on their leads would be visible.  "I see.  Rein-triggered commands make sense if you trail harness-trained animals behind you."

    It took me several years to recognize that, and he picks up on it in a few seconds, I thought to myself a bit grumpily as I flicked the reins and said "stand."  The swine in harness slowed to a stop.  They wouldn''t move again.  We were now prepared to follow the rest of the militia wagons.

    I hoped there wouldn''t be too much dust.  My swine were closer to the ground than horses.  They were also less prone to issues with dirt and dust in their lungs considering the amount of time they spent rooting in the dirt, but if there was a lot of dust, they would still suffer some.

    There was a good bit of staring in my direction, and a couple people approached and questioned me, briefly, about the carriage and swine before returning to the groups they had come from.  Some people that approached, I knew, some I didn''t.  Other than students I''d been in school with, I mostly only knew the names of people from the marina, from the north road farms, and people I''d interacted with in town.  I knew most of the families, of course, and could differentiate between their members based on appearance in most cases.  Harvest festival brought everyone together where people could be seen and remembered, even if it didn''t teach everyone''s names to everyone else.  My being very tall, with red hair, and very differently shaped than what was locally typical, I was different enough that almost everyone knew me by name.  It was annoying at times, but I''d long since grown used to it.

    The staring eventually mostly stopped as people approached with their questions, which were mostly utilitarian, and returned the answers to the groups that they had been asking questions for.  After explaining that the carriage was meant as storage and temporary living quarters for swineherds who needed to move around or travel a great distance, I got a lot of speculative looks.  Most of those looks didn''t lead to further questions, but some did.

    "Why doesn''t your brother Zeke have one of these carriages, Allen?" I was asked by a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper braided hair and beard.  I was fairly sure he was part of the Carter family.  "He''s told me that he can''t go farther south, even though my cousin has expressed an interest in having him and his swine work his fields.  A carriage like this would let him travel farther, and overnight."

    I had asked that question myself, after the shock of being given the carriage, and the answer was simple.  "Zeke already has all the business he can keep up with, while also helping us on the farm."  I shrugged.  "If some people closer to us chose to stop doing business with him, he''d probably expand the area he works in, and then a carriage like this might make sense for him.  Also, between small families and injuries, our farm has been short of family field-capable labor for a very long time.  Zeke spends a good bit of his time helping at home.  We need him there.  If Edward and Jan, and Zeke and whoever he ends up marrying have several children like Ma and Pa did, that might change."

    The man thought for a second, and nodded.  "Fair enough.  Are you moving south, or north?"

    Clearly he was hoping for south, and close, but that wasn''t the plan.  "North, perhaps eventually into New Tokyo, depending on what happens."  I stopped and raised both hands a little, twisting my wrists to put my palms up, and looked from side to side.  My partner in conversation nodded after a slight hesitation.

    After a moment of awkwardness, I continued.  "Abe or Molly might have a knack for handling swine and go that way, but there is another Rickson family farm a couple counties south as well who have swineherds.  Expanding back towards them would be pretty rude of us.  We''re the northernmost family who still does swineherding.  We have to let them have a little room to grow, too.  If they leave the swineherding business though, it might happen."

    He nodded, and thought for a second.  "I thought Zeke said once that he was seeing someone in town?"

    I smiled.  He had picked up on my hint that Zeke was unattached.  "He and Dana broke up a few months ago.  She wouldn''t leave town life, and he wouldn''t give up farm life.  He and Rosa Gonzalez were sweet on each other for a while after that, but then started arguing a lot and haven''t spoken for a while."  I had been very, very glad that Rosa and Marza were not sisters when that debacle had happened.

    I was almost laughing as Mr. Carter man turned away, clearly thinking about Zeke being unattached, and wondering if, perhaps, a female relative of his might be a good match.  A family connection or marriage could justify Zeke moving south and potentially encroaching on the expansion of the other Rickson family''s expansion.  Zeke might even do it, in a couple years, if Granpa, Abe, and Molly stayed healthy.  It would be a hard sell though.  He''d have to marry a woman in position to inherit land, or he''d never move off our farm.  He''d expect her to come to live with him, and Mr. Carter would probably try to use the marriage to move Zeke down south to better service his family''s farms.  We had generations of labor invested in the facilities we used for the swine, and Zeke was going to inherit the several acres of land that those facilities occupied unless something happened to him or he did something phenomenally stupid.

    After Mr. Carter left, nobody else approached, and I set the reins in their holder and waited.  The militia officers had been so insistent to have us here early in the morning.  They said it was important that we get to the border quickly.  Doctor Sten had said the officers were too busy to talk to me about Rikard.  I looked at Doctor Sten as he scanned the people around us, but said nothing.  He''d made it very clear that I would be waiting until at least tonight to see if I could get that issue addressed.

    Hurry up.  Hurry up.  Wait.  I thought to myself, wondering if all militaries were dysfunctional about time management, and decided that they really couldn''t have been.  The ancients had been far too efficient at killing each other to waste time like this.  We were just incompetent and wasteful at the whole military thing because we''d never done it before.

    I found Rikard in the crowd, and looked in his direction, but not directly at him.  I''d see it if he moved, but it wouldn''t look like I was staring at him.  Satisfied that I''d be able to react if he were stupid enough to start something with the doctor sitting on the bench next to me, I tried to force my mind to consider something to keep it busy.

    My most recent conversation had brought up something that I could think about for a while, so I let myself fall into thought about moving west.  Granpa had mentioned the option, but it still wasn''t entirely certain how well the new farming communities there were going to do.  The road construction for a second band of farming communities west of us had only started a few years ago.  Most of the farms were small, and would have little use for swine field labor for a few more years until they cleared more land and started growing more than they needed for themselves.  Abe or Molly might go that way in about eight to ten years, to farm or to be swineherds.  It was even conceivable that Marza and I might move back into that area as opposed to moving farther north if relations with New Tokyo went seriously bad in the long term, but that would shrink the family''s growth options.  New growth should always be directed in the direction where there was the greatest room for growth, if possible.  For me, the first adult to leave the farm for generations, that was north.

    Rikard hadn''t moved.  In fact, nobody was moving yet, other than a dozen or so townsfolk running back and forth between the wagons and militia members, carrying papers.  Most of the paper-carriers were going to and from Quartermaster Brown who was rapidly flipping through a huge, accordion-like leather folder and comparing his documents to theirs before signing papers, so the documents were probably receipts and bills for goods the militia had requisitioned.  Captain Marko was on a horse in front of the Countyman''s porch, speaking to the Countyman who was standing on the porch - probably so he didn''t have to look up so much to speak with Captain Marko.  People in authority tended to not like to look up when they spoke to you.  The two of them didn''t seem to be animated in their discussion, so my eyes drifted past them and back to the people around Rikard, who still hadn''t moved.

    Doctor Sten followed my glance, apparently seeing something in my expression, and was about to say something when I turned my head slightly and focused my glance on a group of school children, still keeping Rikard in my peripheral vision.

    That''s what we''re doing this for.  I thought to myself, knowing it was silly.  It was a group of older students who were supposedly doing exercises between classes, but were mostly staring at us.  None of them were more than four years younger than me.  Still, for all intents and purposes I was an adult after having graduated school.  My sixteenth birthday would seal me into full adulthood, but I felt like I was already there.  I hoped to have children of my own within a couple years.

    With no activity yet, I allowed for my thoughts to wander as I watched the students pretending to exercise as they were watching us.  Population growth on Nirvana was generally slow.  Families as prolific as the Gonzalez family were as rare as families like my own, where there were barely enough children to replace the adults.  Despite families averaging a birthrate around five children per two adults, childhood illnesses and injuries claimed many, especially in rural areas.  Severe allergies, like what my parents thought I might have had, were extremely rare but not entirely unheard of.  If the history books had it right, the vast majority of deadly allergies had ceased to express within twenty generations after technology was taken from us.  Humans had never edited the genes that expressed most allergies because it was far easier to simply suppress the reactions with implanted devices.  When human medical technology was no longer available to suppress severe allergies, nature took over and suppressed them permanently. Severe shellfish and nut allergies were two examples given in genetics class; deadly allergies that were once common, but now almost nonexistent.

    There were those who pointed to the improved basic health of humanity as something that we should be grateful to Albert to, as a race.  There was certainly some validity to that, but I''d never been able to subscribe to the idea wholeheartedly.  Maybe my imagination was just too good.  I couldn''t help but imagine over two hundred generations of mothers and fathers watching children dying of anaphylaxis while Albert withheld the medical technologies that might have saved them.

    Is Albert human enough in how he thinks to have a conscience?  I wondered, before realizing I was going off into thoughts about things that were useless to contemplate.  I shook my head and tried to focus on something useful, but what could I focus on?  I didn''t have anything to do, other than wait, and Doctor Sten seemed content to simply watch people.

    Going back to think about my conversation with Mr. Carter, I started thinking about how the family would expand if Ma''s family predisposition for a lot of children carried more genetic weight than Pa''s family tendency to have few children.  It would certainly be interesting to see the Rickson family grow large and expand both in individual farm sizes and in where we lived throughout the world.  I frequently envied Marza for the huge family she had.

    Still bored, my mind went off on a tangent.  Most of the population of Nirvana was in a narrow band around the inner sea.  Farming communities without nearby towns to serve as a hub of activity were very rare, and towns more than a hundred kilometers inland were almost unheard of.  There were two states with very rich agricultural land and towns more than a hundred kilometers inland.  Second Landing was one such state.  Landing, on the other side of the inner sea and farther south, almost equatorial, was another.  The two landings had both been chosen by the original colonists because they occupied vast river valleys.  According to the history books, the two landings had, at one time, provided the majority of all agricultural needs for a world population of millions.  The machines of the ancients had performed unthinkable amounts of labor to improve upon the arable land around both landings, creating an incredible network of canals designed to both provide flood protection and allow for barge transport.  Even the ancients had appreciated the convenience of using water and gravity to transport heavy loads, and a lot of that canal network was still useful today.

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    I really wish I had something to do.  I thought, irritated.  Couldn''t they have given us some sort of documents about soldier-y stuff to read to keep our minds busy?

    That was when I realized that I''d been sitting, staring at people, letting my mind wander, when my mother''s unread letter was sitting in the pouch over my shoulder.  I''d forgotten it in the excitement earlier.

    Apparently just being close to Rikard turned me into an idiot, briefly.  I thought as I slapped myself on the forehead and reached into my pouch to pull out the folded pages.

    Doctor Sten''s head turned to me with a rapid, birdlike motion as I slapped myself. He then smiled and turned his head away as I pulled the papers out of my pouch.

    I checked to see if Ma had written on both sides of the papers.  She had, so I leaned forward a little and held the papers between my thighs so I could read without Doctor Sten seeing what she had written.  Pa had known what Ma would be telling me in this letter, and Granpa had too, apparently.  What Ma had said and Pa''s clear worry about it told me it was something that I''d at least want to read before risking people in authority seeing it.  Realizing that there was a militia officer sitting right next to me made me realize I had been an idiot, again.  I considered putting the pages back in my pouch, but that would probably look extremely strange to Doctor Sten, and he didn''t seem to be a nosy sort.  Just very keenly aware of what was going on around him.

    So many people that I''m meeting recently who are older than me seem to be so much more aware than I am, I thought, briefly irritated.  Is it a good thing that I''m noticing this now, or am I slow, and should have really noticed it years ago?

    I dismissed the thought after quickly concluding that it was clearly a good thing to be more aware, and I had obviously been slower than I could have been to realize how aware other people were.  I was also repeating my thoughts on the matter, as I''d had a discussion about this very thing with Granpa the other day.

    I bent my head to read Ma''s letter.

    <hr />

    Son,

    Before I write anything else, I am going to say once again how much your Pa and I love you and how proud we are of you.  That''s been made pretty obvious in our parting, I''m sure, but this can be a little reminder of that.

    Saying goodbye again is not what this letter is about though.  This letter is about keeping you alive.  You know, at this point, that I came from a family of fighters, and was, in fact, myself a fighter.  You know that I knocked out my first fianc¨¦ because he cheated on me.  That doesn''t tell you the whole story.

    There have always been people who enjoyed competing against one another in sports that resemble fighting.  We are called martial artists.  I suppose I should say ''they'' instead of ''we'' since I''ve left that group because of my lack of self-control.

    <hr />

    "What?" I blurted out, almost dropping the papers.

    I read it again, and it said the same thing.  I remember trying to imagine that, questions shot through my mind rapidly.  Sports that resembled fighting?  Did you score points for hitting people?  What if you hurt someone?

    I continued reading where I''d left off.

    <hr />

    I am smiling as I write this now, imagining your confusion, and will answer the questions that I imagine you will be having.  Hopefully I will answer all your questions, but I probably won''t.  You''ll have to ask me when you get back, if I miss any.

    Do not send me letters about this in the post.  Martial artists are considered to be fighters by anyone except other martial artists, and people like me have contributed to that perception.  For us to be caught consulting with one another about martial arts would start so many rumors that I''d rather just not have to deal with.  That being said, you will probably want to destroy this letter.  The last page is a real teary letter that you can keep.  It won''t be the end of the world if someone else finds this and reads it, but it will be annoying and disruptive.

    Martial artists spar.  They do not fight.  When sparring they wear heavy padding on the joints, head, feet, and fists.  Very highly trained martial artists sometimes use padded staves or even improvised weapons.  The object of a sparring match is generally to either strike a blow that knocks the other down, or force them out of a defined area, with the winner of the match succeeding in one of those two things either twice out of three or three out of five times.  Injuries can happen, but they are rare.  Typically a sparring match only lasts a couple minutes, and a large part of martial arts is learning how to avoid and absorb blows.  It''s not all about hitting people, and blades and points are never used.

    Right now, I suspect you''re either thinking I am insane, or extremely interested in what I have to say.

    <hr />

    The page ended a little shy of the bottom, which was oddly wasteful.

    Can I think both?  Ma''s a little insane and I''m very interested? I thought to myself, with a little smile.  I''d been prepared for this, at least a little, by Ma''s revelation about knocking out her fianc¨¦, but this was nearly unbelievable, like the absurd mystery short stories we used in Primary class to learn to read when we were young children with short attention spans.  I read everything up to the bottom of the page twice before flipping to the next page, carefully.

    <hr />

    One thing that martial artists have done for the last several thousand years is maintain a verbal tradition.  We/they do this because the earliest practitioners found that Albert was removing instructional manuals for a lot of different styles of martial arts from public and private collections.

    In the very beginning, Albert was not fully aware of how tenacious a human verbal tradition could be, because no humans in recorded history had been forced to embrace verbal traditions as the sole means to preserve their knowledge.  He allowed the existence of martial arts style manuals at first, and would provide them when requested after they mysteriously disappeared from public and private collections, but only if requests were made with the complete title of the book and the full author''s name.

    When confronted about the fact that other knowledge could be retrieved with far less exacting requirements, Albert simply stated that for as long as humans remembered the names and authors of the human literature that predated his existence, he would be certain to continue to provide access to them.  Works subsequent to his existence would have to be protected and maintained by humans.  It was very clear that he was attempting to encourage humans to lose the knowledge of martial arts, while providing as few options as possible for people to rediscover the knowledge.  No manuals were ever discovered in the worldly possessions of any deceased master, no school ever had the manuals available, and only rarely could any martial arts style manual be found in a public library.

    After realizing the fact that we were using a verbal tradition successfully, Albert began watching martial artists far more closely than other humans.  To be fair, to the best of our knowledge, he never falsified any accusation about violence.  He watched martial artists directly, with tiny machines protected from insects by glass and carbon.  He did seem to understand the difference between fighting and sparring, and never gave an infraction when we sparred, even if there was an injury in a sparring circle.

    If a martial artist causes any physical harm to another with intent to cause harm, they are almost immediately warned that they were under strict and close supervision because of their status as a martial artist.  If they wanted to be removed from strict and close supervision, they needed to stop learning and teaching martial arts, and stop communicating with the martial arts community.  I can attest to those last parts.  I had that talk with one of Albert''s tiny little glass and carbon machines less than a minute after I knocked out Paul, and I agreed to Albert''s terms.

    Albert has nearly succeeded in wiping martial arts from the collective memory of humans, despite the verbal tradition, through propaganda and strict enforcement of violence laws on martial artists.  We have little if any support in the world community; anyone who is not a martial artist is almost certain to immediately be frightened of anyone who claims to be one.  Several of my family have been martial artists, and a lot of them refused to give up the practice when Albert caught them in petty acts of violence that most people would simply ignore.  Before I left the martial arts community, there were less than three hundred martial artists left outside the prison colonies that we were aware of, throughout the entire world.  Most of them were older, with no students because Albert had scared their students off after their first post-adult violence infraction.

    By my agreement with Albert, I''m not supposed to teach martial arts or the verbal tradition, and I will not.  This isn''t to say that I value my agreement with Albert more than I value your safety, son.  If I had known a couple months ago that your life would be at risk now, you and I would have been sparring by now and hang Albert!  However, two days simply isn''t enough time to do more than confuse a new student.  Nor am I going to give you the names and authors of any martial arts texts or style manuals so you can demand them.  You don''t have time to learn them.  It takes weeks to learn even the most simple basics, and months to learn enough to be allowed to spar.  Finally, sparring isn''t fighting.  If can be a sound foundation for fighting from what the verbal tradition tells us, but it is not real fighting.

    Now, after telling you what I won''t do, I''ll write down what I hope I can do.  Below, I''ve given you several scraps of knowledge that I thought of while I wasn''t sleeping over the last two nights, which will possibly be useful to you in a real fight.

    First, cheat, and expect the other person to cheat.  Carry a pocket or pouch full of sand or loose dirt with you at all times, and be ready to step back and shield your eyes when they cheat.

    Second, as I''ve already told you, watch the eyes.  When an untrained person fights, they will almost always give away where they will try to hit you by looking there with their eyes.  Even a trained person will sometimes give away their target after they''ve been hurt.

    Third, to check if someone knows the eye-watching trick, the very first attack you make against someone, you should look at one part of their body, and attack another.  If they defend where you looked rather than where you attacked, that means you''re fighting someone who knows the eye-watching trick.

    Fourth, watch the center mass of a fighter.  It''s not as clear of a signal as the eyes, but nobody can fake it.  The body always follows the belly-button.

    Fifth, if the person you are fighting has demonstrated that they know to watch eyes, and you didn''t take them down with your first attack, they may attempt to hide their center mass movements with fast arm and leg movements that seem to indicate they will move one way, when they are actually moving in another.  Like I said above, watch the belly-button - where it goes, the body goes.  Always.

    Sixth, without training, don''t try to trick someone who tries to fool you with fast arm and leg movements.  They are likely to read your center mass.  You''ll just get your arms and legs tangled up.  You are tall, so use your reach, and keep your distance.

    Seventh, stay balanced.  Without far more training than even I ever got, you should never jump or lunge in a sparring match, not to mention a real fight.  Your center of mass becomes ballistic when you jump, and you cannot put force against the ground, making you less able to dodge an attack.  Lunging is almost as bad, it puts you terribly off balance.  If you miss a lunging strike, the person you are fighting probably won''t miss the easy target you just gave them.

    Eighth, circle their injured leg.  For instance, if you injure someone''s left leg, walk around them to their left, your right, if you can.  For an opponent right leg injury, walk around them to their right, your left.  Doing this forces the opponent to plant their injured leg and twist their bad hip, knee and ankle, or, more likely, they will plant their good leg to rotate on and take careful steps backwards (where they can''t see) with their bad leg.  Walking around them to their good leg side lets them see what they will step with their bad leg, making it far less likely they will trip, fall, or further injure the bad leg.  You want to force an enemy with a bad leg to stress their bad leg and hope it will give out on them.

    Ninth, if you have an injured leg, and someone tries to circle you like I described above, the best thing to do is make sure you are on the best stable footing you can find, with as few obstructions as possible, and switch how you move, planting legs randomly if you can.

    Tenth, never assume the other person is actually as hurt as you think they are.  Even if you knock them down, assume they are pretending.

    Eleventh, if you are severely overmatched by someone, are injured, and know without a doubt that you can''t win, pretend to trip and fall or collapse, drop your weapon close at hand, and hope the other person is careless.  If they are, try to finish them when they approach to finish you.

    If you have read this, then either Albert really did stop watching me closely, or I''ve managed to convey information to you that doesn''t violate my agreement with him.  If he is still watching me and I did violate our agreement as he understands it, I have no doubt that somehow or another, you will never see these first three pages, and only see the fourth, sappy, weepy, heartfelt page that I included for you to let other people see.  That will probably confuse you to no end, considering what I plan to say before you leave, and how I plan to say it, so I''m sure I''ll hear confusion from you if I don''t get a talking-to about it first from Albert.

    I love you.  Do your best.

    Ma

    <hr />

    I read and reread the entire letter several times, and committed the eleven rules to memory.

    Still in something of a mental daze after verifying I''d memorized the rules; I carefully folded up the letter while it was still between my thighs, and put it back in my pouch.  I would check my recall of the rules when we stopped for the night, and then again in the morning after sleeping.  If I still had it right, I would shred the paper, soak it in water and feed a little of it to each of my swine.

    I saw that Doctor Sten was not looking at me so carefully that it was painfully obvious that he was watching everything I did.  I wondered what he was reading in my expression, and figured that, at least this time, there was no way I was giving away what I was thinking.  That thought made me chuckle.

    I couldn''t even believe what I''d read.  There was absolutely no way Doctor Sten could have any clue.  I wondered how much that was bothering him.  From the relaxation on his face that I saw after I chuckled, he''d been at least a little concerned about how I''d been reacting as I read.

    I shrugged, and looked around.  Fifteen minutes of reading and memorizing and still no sign that we were ready to move.

    I checked where Rikard was, again, and then settled my gaze on the door to the butcher''s shop, close enough to him to keep him in my field of view.

    At least now I have something useful to think about, I thought, nervously, as I shifted slightly on the driver''s bench.

 Chapter 12

    Quartermaster Brown and Lieutenant Davis were talking quietly but intensely.  I couldn''t hear what they were saying, but I didn''t need to, because they weren''t talking to me.  It was very clear by body language that the lieutenant wanted something and the quartermaster didn''t want to do what the lieutenant wanted.  They stopped talking, and both turned and walked quickly towards the officer''s tent.  It was obvious that Captain Marko spent a substantial amount of time and effort mediating between the officers below him on the chain of command.

    One of the quartermaster''s helpers, someone I didn''t recognize, handed me a stone axe.  The unknown person had probably been the mahout or the roadway worker for Happy, the New Charleston elefant who pulled the wagon the axes were coming out of.  Happy herself was tied to a tree nearby with a long rope leash, and was methodically stripping the ground and trees around her of vegetation at a rapid rate.  The other two elefants, Teak and Granite, were also enthusiastically doing their best to eat everything within twenty feet of the tree their leashes were tied to.  I probably should have tried to learn the names of the new mahouts and road workers, but I hadn''t heard them say their own names.  I had heard them call out the names of the elefants quite a few times though, as we set up camp.

    Before walking away, I checked the leather straps holding the axe head in the carved hollow at the end of the club-like handle.  The leather was tight, and not dry rotted.  I could see the sheen of oil on the straps.  I could also smell the hickory.  Bull-oak was better for tools, but it was slow to grow, and relatively expensive.  For large striking tools like mallets, hatchets, and axes, hickory was the best solution for the cost.  A bull-oak axe handle would be four of five times the cost as a hickory handle, but only last about twice as long.

    I frowned with irritation as I fingered the edge of the stone blade while walking away, but said nothing.  We didn''t have a blade grinder set up, and finding a good long flat stone and grinding the edge by hand would take almost as long as cutting a few saplings with a slightly rounded edge.

    I was supposed to find six ash saplings that were mostly straight for at least three meters.  We would be sharpening and fire hardening four of them tonight.  Two would be left blunt for practice.  I needed to hurry though.  The sun was starting to get close to the horizon and I didn''t know this area well.

    I did know the area to some extent, but I hadn''t been this far north in years.  We''d come this way to buy a draft horse when Samson had died, not scout the woods.

    Today we''d travelled about seven hours from town, going past my family''s farm, and then two hours farther up the road.  Almost every family along the road had come out to see us pass, waving to relatives.  Quite a few of us who lived on the north road were given a bit of bread, cheese, pemmican, or some other durable energy food by our families as we passed, but we were not allowed to stop.

    Thinking about that, my mind drifted back to memories of earlier in the day.

    **

    Marza had not been at the road when we passed, which had hurt me a little, but we''d already said goodbye in the morning.  Her family also knew Riko would not be a part of the group going north towards the border today.  I carefully explained to myself that Marza was better off working to help her family keep fed over the winter than coming to say goodbye to me for the third time in two days.  It still hurt a little, no matter how logical I tried to be about it.

    As we passed our farm, Ma had briefly and briskly walked along the side of the carriage and handed me a fresh honey mint flatbread wrapped in a corn husk, still hot from the oven.  After I took it and carefully set it beside me on the carriage bench, she reached up and held my hand for a second, pulling it against her face quickly before letting go, patting me on the moccasin, and retreating to the side of the road to stand beside the rest of the family.

    It was too loud to talk quietly as we passed, due to all the wagons, horses, and men.  I certainly wasn''t going to start talking loudly to her about martial arts in front of a big group of people.  I didn''t know enough to have brief questions in any case.

    Ma, Pa, and Granpa were watching me very closely as I started to speak loudly.  "I read your letter, Ma, all four sheets.  It makes sense.  Thank you."  That, I could say.  It let her know I''d gotten four sheets instead of one, and that the number of sheets was notable.

    Ma visibly relaxed, nodding.  Pa and Granpa simply relaxed.

    At that point, I felt a little jealous of the men and women on foot who were able to at least get a hug or a kiss where I''d gotten a pat on the foot.  I waved a couple times more while we were in sight, but it wasn''t long until they were out of sight.

    As my attention shifted to the honey mint flatbread, I asked Doctor Sten "Do you want a piece of flatbread?  Honey and mint filling."  Since he was sitting right next to me on the bench, it would be rude for me to not offer him something.  He didn''t have anything, and I knew it.

    Doctor Sten agreed.  "Only a small corner piece with a bit of filling though, please.  I haven''t powered a teenage body for quite a few decades now, and had a good breakfast."

    As he finished his comment, my stomach made loud, obnoxious noises, which embarrassed me a bit.  I stuttered "sorry" as I carefully tore off a corner of the flatbread and handed it to him.

    Doctor Sten accepted his corner of flatbread with a grin.  "Better get some of this flatbread inside you before that stomach of yours decides to jump out and find something to eat all by itself."

    We both laughed, before eating in relaxed silence.

    **

    As I walked up to my carriage, I returned my thoughts to the present.

    The two older women who had been assigned to stand watch on the more valuable cargos looked at me for a few seconds before waving and looking away.  I didn''t know them either.  Quite a few people that I didn''t know were part of the militia under Captain Marko.  Many of them had apparently arrived late the day before after I left town to go home, having been walking the prior day from New Charleston behind the officers who had ridden to town.

    I waved and smiled to them.  Just because I didn''t know their names yet didn''t mean I couldn''t be polite.  I''d also been close enough to hear Doctor Sten explained to them that the swine were not to be taken out of the enclosure by anyone other than me, or slaughtered unless an officer ordered it directly.  The doctor had then released me to do work, and pointed me at Quartermaster Brown.

    I quickly collected the harness I had removed from the boars when we stopped, and a few leather straps.  I verified that I''d set the wheel chocks and looked at my sounder under the carriage.  They looked back at me curiously.  With a little urging, they had gone in with no difficulty, and didn''t appear to be having a problem with being confined.  They were making hungry noises though, and I could see that they had, in less than ten minutes, rooted up all of the grass under the carriage and eaten it.

    I lifted a dozen slats along one whole side of the carriage, set them on the rack at the back of the carriage, and pulled out my whistle.  Walking away slowly, I blew the whistle and called out "follow."  There was a low chorus of grunts behind me as the swine walked out from under the carriage and followed me.

    The guards looked at me, curious.

    "I''m taking them out with me, so they can feed themselves while I cut some ash." I spoke, addressing myself to the watching women.

    They both nodded, and then looked away from me and the swine.

    I started walking back the way we''d come, towards town, speeding up to a moderate walk but not running.  The swine followed behind me, grabbing bites of grass and foliage as we walked.  They weren''t hungry enough to disobey me and settle in to eat, but they were too hungry for me to walk quickly and expect them to keep up.

    Ash trees needed good light and moist soil.  Less than two kilometers down the road, we''d crossed a bridge.  I remembered that there was a stream under that bridge, and no fields next to it.  There were, however, farms and fields nearby.  Ash was frequently used as support poles for beans, tomatoes, and other climbing crops because coppiced ash saplings grew fast and straight.  If there weren''t at least a few ash crowns cultivated along that stream, I''d be very surprised.  It would take me ten minutes to cut half a dozen ash saplings if I found a couple crowns, even with a dull axe.

    I didn''t walk on the road, I walked on the road''s shoulder, in the grass.  The swine wouldn''t get far from me as long as I gave them occasional whistle and follow commands, so if I walked on the road, they would have less forage options.  As we walked, I kept my eyes open for ash and oak trees.  If I saw any oaks, and if we found ash saplings quickly, I''d take the swine by them as we headed back towards the camp and let them have a few minutes eating acorns.

    As I approached the bridge, I saw a man and woman, neither of whom I knew.  They were carrying a large bundle of saplings between them over their right shoulders, with axes over their left shoulders.  Carrying an axe over your shoulder wasn''t safe, but I said nothing.  I knew a lot of people that did it.  Even Zeke did it.

    The woman was very short, but lean and fit.  I figured she was about thirty, with a single long braid of light brown hair highlighted with grey along a visible scar above the right side of her forehead.  Her hands were calloused, her face was tanned.  The clothing she wore was serviceable leather but stained and showing signs of wear.  I saw her eyes move, probably scanning me the same way I had just scanned her, looking at my face, clothes, and hands.  She nodded in greeting as I approached the two of them.

    The man behind her was fit, likely in his mid-twenties.  Jet black hair tied back with a clean ribbon.  His clothes were clean, new, and his face was sunburnt.  He was clearly a townie, or had been away from the farm for a long time.  He was also scanning me and looked a little confused, apparently noticing the swine behind me.

    As we got closer, I could see that the saplings they carried were indeed ash, based on a couple leaves at the very ends.  The heavier bottom ends were being carried by the man, and the narrow ends carried by the woman.  The saplings were of very uniform size.

    "Coppices along the bank?"  I asked, fairly sure I knew the answer.

    The woman responded.  "Yes, I figured there would be when I remembered the stream.  Both banks.  Quite a few of them.  We cut a couple extras."

    The man looked at me and narrowed his eyes.  "There are a few others down there as well, if you need help getting yours back to camp."

    I carefully didn''t take offence.  "I''m stronger than I look, and I''ve got plenty of help if I need it."  I waved one hand back towards where the swine were trailing behind me.

    He nodded and the woman looked a little embarrassed as they walked past me back to camp.  I smiled a little at her, just to make sure she didn''t think I''d taken offense with her due to his words.  The man behind her frowned a bit as I smiled at her, but didn''t say anything.  I nodded to him as well, politely.  He was working, sweating, carrying the heavy end of the load, and had clearly teamed up with someone who knew what they were about, so I was going to try to get along with him unless he made a point of becoming annoying.

    I gave another whistle and follow command.  The swine had responded to three follow commands and I hadn''t given them a treat yet, so I called them up one at a time as we walked and dropped half-treats for them.  The size of the treats didn''t really matter, but it just felt stingy.  Still, I knew I needed to make what I had last until I could make more.

    A minute later, I was getting close to the bridge and saw Don, Emerald, and Riker came up from the east side embankment.  Each of them casually carrying a bundle of ash over one shoulder and an axe in the other hand.  I, fortunately, was approaching the west side of the bridge and didn''t need to get close.  I saw Riker staring at me, but I only glanced at him briefly before looking away and keeping him in my peripheral vision.  A couple seconds later, Emerald looked my way and walked between the two of us, so we couldn''t see each other.  Nobody said a word.

    I could hear more people chopping irregularly and talking in clearly irritated voices as I walked down the embankment and to the west.  As I reached the streambed, I looked at the six people cutting wood.  They were each cutting from a different crown, and everyone was holding their axes wrong.

    I sighed as I saw them making a soup sandwich out of some local farmer''s ash coppice crowns.  Townies.  I know it.  Maybe even from the city.

    "Everyone stop for a second, please."  They all stopped and looked at me as my swine piled into the stream and drank greedily before starting to roll and wallow to cool off.  I wasn''t sure if they were looking at me or the swine.  "The swine are mine, domestic.  You may have seen them pulling my carriage today, or trailing behind it."

    I walked over to the closest coppice crown and gestured for the rest of them to come closer.  "Before you cut any more I need to talk to you for a second."

    "We need to cut these.  Sheela said these were ash trees.  The quartermaster wants ash saplings for spears."  One of the men standing farther away said, leaning on his axe handle.  The head of his axe was in the water.  The leather bindings were in the water.

    As I stared at the man''s submerged axe head, I recited to myself.  There is a difference between ignorance and idiocy.  I might be able to fix ignorance.

    I pointed at the man with the axe head in the stream.  "Your axe is now unsafe to use.  You got the straps wet, the leather will loosen, and the head might work loose and fall out and hurt someone.  You will need to use a different axe.  Has anyone else gotten their axe head wet in the water?"

    Two other people were carefully testing the heads of their axes and looking nervous.

    I shook my head a little.  "That really important, but not why I originally wanted your attention.  These trees are cultivated."  I pointed at the massive crown next to me with at least fifty stumps.  "The locals have been harvesting them for a very long time.  If we cut a few from every crown of stumps, they will have to go to every crown to harvest, and get less from each crown.  Let''s just cut what we need from a single crown."

    The man who''s axe I had noticed earlier spoke, but didn''t seem irritated at me for pointing out his mistake before. "We''ll be a bit close together for that though, I don''t want to hit someone.  I''ve never used an axe before."

    Several of the others made noises of agreement.  I sighed inside, but smiled at him and laughed a little. "Let''s fix that then, OK?  Time for axe lessons."

    I then gave axe-handling lessons for several minutes.  Teaching someone how to care for and use an axe safely only took a minute if they were willing to listen and learn.  To my great satisfaction, ignorance turned out to be the only problem they had.  They weren''t going to be winning any wood chopping contests soon, but they probably wouldn''t hurt themselves or anyone else with an axe.

    During their lessons, I checked everyone''s axe heads, and four of the six of theirs were loosening due to getting wet.  They would need to be dried and oiled before they could be used safely.  My axe was used by everyone with an unsafe axe.  It still didn''t take much time to get them all sorted out and give them seven saplings each to carry.

    "Why the extra one." Anu asked, as I had her cut her extra sapling from the crown.  "Not that I mind, but it wasn''t what we were told to do." She was a little older than me, I''d guess, with long platinum blonde hair tied behind her head with a loose overhand knot.   She was almost as tall as Marza, and very broad across the shoulders.  She was easily the strongest person there, and could cut a two inch sapling with two blows after I taught her how to do a good full-extension swing.  She was also carrying more extra weight than anyone I''d ever seen.  I couldn''t see any of her muscles in her neck or arms, and she was round everywhere.  She might have weighed almost as much as Edward, and might have given him a hard time arm wrestling.  I would never have believed she could be so strong if I hadn''t seen it with my own eyes.

    "Not everyone came this way."  I explained.  "They might not all be able to find ash trees, which need good light and moist soil.  Even if they find ash trees, they might not find six of the right size.  These are cultivated.  Ash trees don''t normally grow bunched up like this, all the same size.  It doesn''t take long to cut one more, and they aren''t that heavy.  I plan on bringing back about twenty extra."

    Out of the corner of my eye I saw someone getting ready to hand-feed Speedy something.  It was Kelvin, the man who I had noticed with the axe head in the water earlier.  "Kelvin, don''t hand it to her.  Drop it in front of her."

    "Oh, sorry.  I didn''t think you would mind."  He replied as he dropped what I saw was a crayfish.  Before I could say a word, Speedy snapped it up and sat back on her haunches crunching away.  I was a little concerned about her eating crayfish because of the shells.  I''d never fed swine any sort of shellfish before.

    As I watched, Speedy continued chewing, her head turning a little from side to side with an odd expression as she carefully dealt with the new food.  "Sorry, I''ve never fed her shellfish before.  I''d appreciate it if you don''t feed any of the swine any more of them.  I don''t mind if you feed her anything that either a dog or a cow could eat, but if your fingers get into her mouth, you might not get them back."  I sighed.  "If you want to see an angry swine, try to take food out of their mouths.  That''s why I didn''t try to get the crayfish back from her.   She''ll enjoy it if you scratch her behind the ears though."

    Kelvin looked back at me, and then down at Speedy.  A moment later he slowly leaned forward and scratched Speedy behind her ears.  "Sorry.  Will she be OK?"

    Speedy stood back up on all fours and leaned into the shins of the nice human scratching her, still chewing whatever was left of the crayfish with an occasional crackle.

    "Probably." I said, still a little concerned.  "She''s still chewing, which is good.  She''s eaten acorns and hickory nuts from last year, and they have sharp edges when chewed, so she will probably be OK.  I''d still rather avoid shellfish for the swine though."

    I was concerned.  Chitin might not process through the digestive tract as easily as nut shells.  I couldn''t ask Zeke or Granpa, but I''d never heard of any of the swine at the marina having issues with chitin, and we sold them several swine per year.  I was pretty sure the swine had plenty of opportunity to eat dead crabs along the beach during their walks, even if the crabbers and lobstermen didn''t feed crustacean parts to the marina swine.  Speedy was the same size, roughly, as the other swine culls we typically sold to the marina.  I relaxed, fairly confident she would be OK, but kept her in my peripheral vision anyway.

    After the first time Rikard had threatened to poison my swine, I had tried to teach them to only eat from their trough unless they got a forage command.  That was my first magnificent failure with swine, and Zeke still teased me about it from time to time when it came up.

    If you put food in front of a swine, the swine would eat it, or protect it.  It was all I could do to get my swine to ignore dropped food under a whoah command.  As soon as the whoah command was ended, they would snap up the food though.  If you tried to pick up food from under their noses while they were under a whoah command, they would break the whoah command enough to plant their nose on the food and stare at you, motionless again, until you took your hand away from their food.  Even Zeke''s much better trained swine would do the same thing.  It was just one of those things that swine would not put up with.

    Anu picked up her seven poles, and then looked at me with that look. "I don''t mean to be offensive, Allen, but I''d have a hard time carrying twenty-six of them.  Do you want help, or did you bring your carriage?"

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    I bit back my irritation at the implied belief that I was weak.  Compared to Anu, I was weak, and she hadn''t seen me work.  "I''ve got help."  I pointed towards Hoss and Bigboy, who were rooting along the streambed.  "But if you want to help me cut them, I''d take that help.  I''ll chop on this side of the crown, you chop on that side."

    Anu set her bundle down as Kelvin picked his up with a little stagger.  He rebalanced his load and started walking more easily up the embankment, walking with the axe held at the base of the blade, like I''d taught him.  "I''ll see you at the camp.  I''d just get in the way if I tried to help cut next to you two."

    I nodded.  He was right.

    It only took a few minutes for us to cut twenty-six saplings, and since there were only six left after all the cutting we''d done on the crown, I asked Anu to cut the rest as well to finish the crown.  Someone would curse that the whole crown had been cut, but at least all the growth would be at the same stage, only a couple saplings were missing from the other crowns.

    As Anu was cutting the last of the saplings, I pulled two harnesses out of my shoulder pouch.  Seeing the harnesses, Hoss and Bigboy, who had both been laying on the shore near one another, both immediately stood, walked into the stream, and wallowed in the water.

    "Quit that, you two." I said, even though I knew they wouldn''t obey commands they didn''t know.  "Hoss.  Bigboy.  Come."

    I wasn''t sure if they knew that getting wet would damage their harness, but they certainly knew I wouldn''t put harness on them when they were wet.  They reluctantly got out of the stream and walked up to me, expectantly, knowing they would get a treat for coming to me, even if they were a bit slack about it.

    I grinned as I dropped a half treat in front of each of them at the same time, several feet from one another.  Letting one of them get both treats would put the other one in a foul mood and might start a squabble.  I led the two wet boars over to a patch of grass and had them roll in it, which they enjoyed.  After they were dry from rolling in the grass, I put their harness on them and gave them each another half treat.

    Anu had finished cutting the ash saplings and stacked them by the time I had the boars in harness.  She watched as I put both boars next to each other, separated by about a half meter.  I called out "whoah" knowing that the other swine nearby would also stop doing whatever they were doing.  The boars stopped fidgeting and stood still.  I gave them each a scratch behind the ears.  "Good."

    I cut one of the saplings in half and discarded the thinner end.  At each end of the thicker half, I cut notches before fitting the sapling into loops in the chest harness of each boar and tied it in place with leather straps around the notches to make a chest pole.  The chest pole wouldn''t bear any weight, it was just to help the boars walk together at a constant distance.  After the chest pole was in place, I picked up four more of the saplings and made notches about a foot from their thick ends.  I fed the poles into the travois straps on each side of each boar''s harness, the thick ends facing forwards, and the thin ends trailing behind the boars. Finally, with a few more head scratches and encouraging noises, I finished tying the four saplings in place at the notches so they would not fall out of the harness.

    Now I had two boars in harness together, with a four-pole travois.  I used a couple more long straps of leather out of my pouch to tie the bundle of saplings onto the travois poles, sideways behind the boars.  To balance the load, we turned seventeen of them with the thick end behind Hoss, and seventeen with the thick end behind Bigboy.

    "Oh, we put mine on there too." Anu said, all of a sudden.  "I got caught up in watching you load the travois, and didn''t notice.  Do you need me to carry some of them, that''s not a light load."

    I smiled a bit.  She had been good to work with, and the weight of seven extra poles was no problem.  "They''re fine.  That''s about a hundred kilos, between two boars that each mass a little over two hundred kilos each.  A quarter of their mass is no problem on a road drag."

    "They mass more than I do by that much?  But they look so small." Anu was looking back and forth between the two boars.

    I couldn''t help but laugh out loud a little.  "Short, not small.  Look at how long and thick their torsos are.  They aren''t built like a human at all.  They are also a lot stronger than us in a straight pull per kilo mass too, because they have better leverage with shorter limbs."

    After testing the straps holding the poles in place, I tied two leashes to the tops of the harnesses.  That would allow me to give them harness commands.

    I shook the reins and called out "walk."  The boars started moving slowly as I moved behind them with the reins, shaking the reins a couple times as I called out the occasional "right" and "left" as we climbed the embankment.

    Anu walked beside me and laughed.  "They are just like little horses."

    "In a way, sure.  They are a little smarter than horses, but nowhere near as strong.  Even a very small horse is twice their mass.  Draft horses can mass more than four times a full grown boar.  Swine don''t think about work like horses either.  Horses seem to actually enjoy pulling things if they are healthy and wearing proper harness.  Our drafts at the farm get excited when they get into harness.  Swine work for food.  They don''t like to work, but they will, since they know I''ll be feeding them a treat after they do some work for me."

    "Now they sound more like humans than horses." She laughed.

    "They can act very human sometimes, yes.  Sometimes they seem human enough that it''s tempting to identify with them too much.  Then they act like swine again and you realize how silly you were to think they were anything but clever animals.  Elefants are much smarter than my swine.  If I''d been born in New Singapore, I would like to think I would have been a mahout.  Being partnered with an animal that intelligent for most of both of our lives."  I reached into my pouch and brought out the whistle and blew it, calling out "follow."

    The boars ignored the command since they were in harness.  The rest of my swine started following me alongside the road, wandering to the underbrush at the edge of the forest.  I hadn''t seen any oaks on the way here, and the sun was starting to set.  We needed to get back to camp, and had about two kilometers to walk.  We''d get back before full dark.

    I heard one of the elefants trumpeting.  The signal we''d been told to listen for if we got lost.  I wondered how many city and town people had been lost in the woods.  I hoped nobody had been hurt in the woods.

    "So what do you do for a living, Anu?" I asked, trying to make polite conversation.

    "Well, ah, nothing really.  I''m a student at New Charleston University."  She chuckled.  "I''m almost finished with my education degree though.  I''d like to teach Primary.  Moving from state to state sounds like fun.

    "Oh."  I couldn''t help myself, and chuckled.

    "What''s funny?" Anu sounded a little suspicious.

    "Sorry, I was just imagining the reactions of your students when they saw what you could do in strength exercises.  You''d probably have more respect from the troublesome students than most teachers get."

    "You should see me when it''s not the off season." She smiled.

    "Off season?"  I knew I sounded confused.  "How could a season change your appearance?"

    Anu started chuckling and laughing.  I knew she was laughing at me, but it didn''t sound like cruel laughter.  She snorted loudly and got control of herself.  "Sorry, Allen, you caught me off guard.  I''m a bodybuilder.  There''s a competition season and an off season.  During the competition season, I lose most of my body fat.  In the off season, I change my diet and let my body develop fat.  It''s not healthy to stay extremely lean all the time.  Classes this semester required a lot more of my attention than I expected, so I''ve put on even more weight than normal because I haven''t been able to spend anywhere near enough time in the gym.  I suspect I''ll be losing a lot of weight soon though.  I doubt the militia will feed me what I need to keep my weight up."

    That didn''t make sense.  "If they don''t feed you enough, a lot of the farmers from around here will suffer too.  You aren''t any bigger than a lot of the local men."  I carefully didn''t say that she was carrying a lot more extra weight than anyone else I knew.  It seemed as if that extra weight was intentional, to some degree, for reasons I wasn''t grasping.

    She tilted her head, obviously searching her memory.  "Well, that''s good to know.  I hadn''t really been paying attention to the other men.  I''m married, so I try not to let the mind wander."  She was silent and I didn''t say anything.  I''d left Marza behind, and it hurt even though we weren''t married yet.

    After a couple dozen steps, she spoke again.  "Sorry about laughing earlier, Allen.  I suspect you got a good chuckle over our attempts to use axes too.  Different worlds."

    I hadn''t laughed.  The axes handling had been deadly serious.  Looked at after the fact though, I could see some humor in it.  "Different worlds, indeed."  I said with a little smile.  I still didn''t really understand what bodybuilding was, but I supposed it was a strength sport of some type, like bale tossing or weighted sled pulling contests for people.  I suspected she now understood axes better than I grasped the concept of the sport of bodybuilding.

    So, do I prove my ignorance now, or wait till later, when it''s somehow important? I thought to myself with a smile.  "So, what do you actually do to compete in bodybuilding?  What''s the point?  I''m still not entirely certain I get it."

    Anu looked at me for a moment, and muttered something under her breath that I couldn''t understand before she started speaking.  "Bodybuilding is a sport that tests your dedication, willpower, and body.  The purpose is to create an ideal heavily-muscled physique with clean lines, almost like sculpting your own body.  Others with a similar mindset, those who have retired from active competition, judge our bodies."

    My thoughts whirled around as I reoriented my mindset around the concept she had just described.  "So, it''s a sport where the natural body is judged directly and the will to train is judged by apparent training effort?  What about people who have bodies that literally can''t measure up to the standards of the natural body ideal that bodybuilding stands for."  I took a breath.  "Like me, for instance.  I suspect that my inability to gain any weight and my excessively lean body would not get me many points in a bodybuilding contest, no matter how hard I tried."

    She started chuckling at that, and I wasn''t able to guess why.  "It''s a sport for large, heavy people, generally.  People without especially quick reflexes.  Sometimes people with minor handicaps like vision or hearing problems."  She paused.  "I''ve always been big.  Especially for a woman.  Too big to do endurance sports, and not coordinated or fast-thinking enough to do sports like tennis or obstacle course running.  But I''ve got plenty of willpower, and I enjoy making my body look like a sculpture."

    The thought of people building their bodies up for a lean but heavily-muscled appearance with no specific goal just felt weird.  Bodybuilding sounded less like a sport than a draft horse inspection.  I shook my head a little, and reminded myself I was looking at it from a different perspective.  To be fair, there were both ability and appearance contests for draft horses during harvest festival.  Still, everyone knew you needed to warm up before you started to work hard, and exercise a bit if you didn''t have work to do that would keep you in shape.  I could imagine Edward or Pa''s reaction to the idea of bodybuilding.  Edward could probably walk into one of their competitions and at least get respect, any time of year, and if Pa hadn''t had his ribs so badly damaged, he probably could as well.  I shook my head.  "You must start a ketogenic diet to lose weight when preparing for competition then?"  I guessed.

    She nodded.  "Yes.  Ketogenic diet to burn fat.  When I do workouts to build muscle, I drink a sugar tea for energy.  When the energy is gone, my workout is done, and the carbs are out of my system.  Staying on a ketogenic diet for too long isn''t a good idea unless you''re epileptic or suffering from some types of dementia.  Too hard to balance it safely without real medical technology.  Not without far more fisc than I have access to."

    "I''ve hit that carb wall a few times myself."  I muttered, remembering a few instances where I''d been working hard and missed meals.  "Not fun."

    "I imagine it''s a lot harder on you than it is on me.  Even when I''m in top form, I''ve got plenty of muscle and a little fat for my body to cannibalize for energy."  She looked at me with a critical eye.  "Your body really doesn''t have anywhere to turn for extra energy.  I''m very surprised you''re as strong as you are."

    I shrugged.  The conversation was getting a bit weird, but it was me that had continued it.  "Carb depletion for me is a real concern.  Aside from critical muscles, organs, and my brain, I''ve got nothing extra but what''s in my digestive tract and stored in my liver.  It''s been something of an obsession for my mother over the years to give me food whenever I leave the farm.  The doctors hope that as I age, my metabolism will slow to some extent and allow me to put on a few kilos."  I paused a second.  "It''d be nice to have a couple kilos of extra mass.  As it is, I would probably do myself irreparable harm if I went without food for more than a few days, while most people can survive for three or more weeks without food, if they have to."

    Something in the forest caught my eye.  Walking back towards the camp gave me different sightlines into the forest than I''d had on the way out.  I saw a low, green hump through the trees. The shape and apparent size told me it was probably an oak.  They tended to take up more horizontal space than anything else in the forest.  It might be a few pecan or walnut trees close to one another as well, but the swine might find edible mast under those type trees as well.

    I looked down the road towards the camp.  I could see the smoke from cookfires, and I caught a whiff of bread cooking.  If I could barely smell it, the swine had smelled it long ago, which explained why they had been moving ahead of me rather than behind me as they typically preferred to do under a follow command.  I really wanted to get them a few minutes with good forest mast before taking them back to a camp with so much food.

    The light levels told me the sun was starting to be obscured by the horizon.  The swine wouldn''t have much time to eat, but I''d have time to fill my pouch with a few liters of acorns if they had started to drop and hadn''t been eaten by local wildlife.

    Guiltily, but also with a little sense of relief, I realized that I could use the oak as a way to break off the discussion that had gotten more personal than I''d like.  It wasn''t Anu''s fault; I had made some poor choices during the conversation.  "There''s an oak or maybe another type of nut tree over there.  I''d like to give the swine a few minutes to get some acorns or whatever''s there, and I can fill my pouch with acorns to take back.  If you fill yours too, I''d appreciate it."

    She looked towards camp, and then towards where she couldn''t see the sun, and frowned.  "OK, but we don''t have much time before dark."

    "If there''s a good carpet of acorns, the swine will get enough to satisfy them fairly quickly.  They were eating the whole time we were cutting wood, but it was mostly roots, grass, and leaves.  Filling, but they''ll go for acorns fast if there are any there."  I looked at the undergrowth along the side of the road.  It was pretty thick; many thick, gnarled, stunted trees and bushes growing on thousands of years of broken road and bridge stones along the side of the road.  If anyone started to farm here, they would collect these broken stones for building with.  The roadworkers would just keep piling them up until someone came to get them.  That''s what the original family had built our swine pens from.  I didn''t want the boars to try to get over that pile of broken stone and bushes with the travois poles still attached.  They could hurt themselves.

    I flipped the reins.  "Slow."  The boars started walking slower.  Another flip of the reins.  "Stand."  The boars stopped.  I walked towards the boars and dropped two half treats, one for each, so they had to turn away from each other just a little to such them up off the ground.  They both looked at each other after quickly snapping up their treats, but each saw that the other had finished what they were eating so nothing came of it.

    "Whoah." I said, and all the swine around me were motionless.  I quickly untied the travois poles, and the chest pole from the boars'' harnesses.  Then I disconnected the reins.

    I looked along the side of the road.  We were on the east side now, as opposed to the west side when I''d walked to the bridge.  I noticed three of the larger females were bunched together, staring at me from next to the thick brush along the road.  Clearly wanting me to end the ''whoah'' command so they could get back to whatever it was they had found.  I scanned around them, and spotted what they were after.

    I pointed at the few blackberries left on the bushes.  "Looks like someone before us got to those before we did.  There aren''t enough of them left to fill anyone up, but they''ll eat what''s there."  I pulled out my whistle, blew a quick note, and said "blackberries" while pointing towards the three sows next to the blackberry bushes they had found.

    As the more distant swine turned and trotted towards the blackberry bushes that had been mostly cleared out by someone already, I waved for Anu to follow me.  "There''s a good place up here to get over the road debris." I said, pointing at a large broken bridge slab that much have been a chore for even an elefant to lift.  The undamaged slab would have been massive.  Maybe even needing a water bucket crane.

    Anu was watching the swine and chuckled as they rushed towards the blackberry bushes, grunting happily.  "They are adorable!"

    Smiling a bit I nodded.  "They knew the words for certain foods we find in the woods a lot.  Saying ''blackberries'' and pointing at the bushes gave them direction and motivation from me.  They had all certainly smelled the berries, but they were also smelling the foods from camp, and we were walking that way, so only the bigger sows who were still hungry were looking for berries.  The boars would have been in the bushes already too, if they hadn''t been in harness.  The littler ones mostly filled up at the creek and want camp food instead.  They don''t know they can''t have it."

    Anu looked at me and I shrugged.  "They aren''t desperately hungry.  I just want them full, especially the first night we camp."

    I gripped my axe in my left hand, by the haft, just below the head.  Then I carefully turned the blade away from my body as I hopped up onto the large slab leaning against the low mound of smaller flat, broken stones choked with bushes.

    A loud, rapid rattling noise started as my feet landed, and a spike of pure adrenaline hit me.  I was unable to stop my ballistic forward motion, my weight shifting and my right hand came to rest towards the top of the slab, my left hand still held carefully extended to the side, the blade of the axe still pointed away from me.  Over the top of the slab, I could see a flat, dark stone.

    Frozen in shock, I screamed ''IDIOT'' at myself as I watched an arm-thick scaled body rapidly reshape itself from a loose set of curves into a tight set of s-curves.  A pair of inhuman eyes raised themselves on a scaled column, and vertical striped pupils devoid of any warmth locked onto me.  A forked tongue slashed the air in my direction, seemingly only a few centimeters away, even though I knew it was at least two decimeters away.

    Anu was right behind me, and clearly didn''t know the noise she was hearing.  "What is that, Allen?"

    Fighting to stay immobile through the rush of adrenaline, I mumbled to Anu, moving my mouth as little as possible as I watched the rattlesnake for signs that it was going to strike.  "Snake.  Get back."

 Chapter 13

    Tktktktktktktktktktk.

    The scaled head hung, inhumanly motionless, and the tongue slashed the air again.

    My mind was racing while I tried to keep my body locked completely motionless.

    How big is it?  I thought while trying to stay level-headed enough to judge its length and girth.  During one of the moments when the snake''s rattle was motionless, I counted half a dozen rattle lobes on the tail.  The snake''s main body was thicker than my upper arm, and I''d guess it was longer than I was tall.  That made it an old snake, which meant it might strike to try and make me flee, as opposed to strike to try to inject poison and kill.  That meant I might survive even if it struck.  Considering that it would likely attack my face or neck, and could blind me or damage a neck artery or vein even if it didn''t release venom, I was not very relieved.

    My low mass was a serious handicap.  At a little over sixty kilos, a lot of that bone, rattlesnake poison might kill me when it would just make a much bigger person very ill.  Full grown adults rarely died from a bite.  Children frequently did.  I didn''t like my chances with a bite.  Not in the slightest.

    I heard Anu stepping back as I had asked, but didn''t dare turn my head to look.  The snake might misread any movement from me as an attack.  I was hoping that it would flee.

    Tktktktktktktktktktk.

    Other than the tip of its tail, the snake remained motionless, poised to strike.

    Remaining motionless, I tried to use what I knew about rattlesnakes to put myself in its place.  Considering the situation, I doubted it would flee.  I was too close.  It hadn''t seen my right hand, fortunately, or it might have struck reflexively at the small, warm target.  My head, upper torso, and outstretched left arm were clearly visible to it, and would indicate that I was a target too large to eat.  I was also too close to safely flee from.  It wouldn''t back down.  Getting away safely was entirely up to me.

    Anu spoke, clearly afraid, and not really understanding what was happening.  "Can... can I do something?"

    No, you can''t, I thought.  Not when I''m this close.

    Tktktktktktktktktktk.

    "O. o. no." I managed, without moving my jaw.  The first two attempts were clumsy, but on the third try I managed an ''n'' sound without moving my mouth or jaw.

    Please, please don''t try to help without knowing what you''re doing, I thought to myself, foolishly hoping she could somehow read my mind.

    I tensed up a little bit, preparing to slowly push myself back.  If I moved smoothly away, without any sudden motion, the snake would probably let me back away.  The farther away I got from it, the less likely it would be to strike.

    From the corner of my eye, I saw Hoss staring at me from about ten meters away where the blackberries were.  I hadn''t given any commands, but it was clear he''d picked up on the snake after it started to rattle, or possibly my fear scent, since the whole area probably smelled like snake.  Hoss''s head shifted towards Anu, and I heard him snuffle again.  Then he grunted a single high-pitched attention grunt to indicate to alert the rest of the sounder.

    I started panicking inside while still trying to stay as still as possible.  All of the rest of the swine immediately stopped what they were doing after Hoss'' attention grunt, and after sniffing around for a moment they all started moving towards me with occasional attention grunts of their own.  Exactly as I''d taught them to do.  They had scented the snake, and were moving to me.  Even Speedy, who I hadn''t trained to react to predator scents yet, was copying the others as they ambled in my direction.

    Tktktktktktktktktktk.

    The snake would feel the ground vibrations of the approaching swine, which would put it even more on edge.

    I started to move.  Slowly.  It was a balancing act, a deadly, slow race.  Every centimeter farther away from the snake that I could manage meant it was a little less likely to strike.  Every step closer the swine got, the more agitated the snake would get, since I was too close to it for it to feel comfortable retreating.  If I moved too fast, it would strike because it thought I was attacking.  If I moved too slow, it would strike to try to force me to move away.

    My right arm started shaking and I locked down the muscles with panicked desperation.

    Anu spoke again, and I ignored her.  I couldn''t afford to pay attention to her.  The snake was around three decimeters from me, and the swine about five meters away.

    The distance between us at that point meant nothing if it chose to strike.  A human couldn''t react fast enough to reliably block a rattlesnake strike, and their accurate striking range was about half their body length, or at least a meter for this snake.  Even if I started to bring my hand up to protect my face before the snake started to strike, the snake would be able to change its target from my upper body or head to my hand or arm faster than I could possibly react.  Millions of years of evolution catching rats, rabbits, and other small animals had made rattlesnakes inhumanly accurate.

    It would probably have been safer for me to let it strike my head or neck than show it my hand and arm and invite a strike.  Rattlesnakes were so hardwired in their reactions that a snake''s disembodied head would try to strike a warm target for minutes after decapitation.  Seeing a small, warm target appear would almost certainly lead to venom injection because my hand was the size of several different types of prey animals.

    Tktktktktktktktktktk.

    After another few seconds of slowly backing away, my head was about half a meter from the snake and my left hand holding the axe was held in front of me, at chest level.  My legs were tightly drawn up under me, and my right arm was at full extension for balance, my hand gripping the side of the stone.

    The swine were standing around the base of the long flat stone that I was crouched on, snuffling in confusion.  I should have been giving them commands at that point, and they knew it.

    By that point, I could only see the head and raised tail of the rattlesnake, and it could only see my head and maybe my neck.  Still, it was giving no signs of trying to retreat.  The swine couldn''t be seen from where it was, but it had certainly detected them, both by vibration and by scent.  It would stay exactly where it was, prepared to strike until something changed.

    Tktktktktktktktktktk.

    The forked tongue slashed out again, several times in rapid succession, and the rattle sounded, seemingly louder.  I felt that I would have to continue to move slowly away, and do it soon.

    At this point, I started to slowly lean to my right, and then, unexpectedly, one of my swine goosed me lightly from behind with its snout, gently reminding me that I hadn''t given it a treat as a reward for returning to me after scenting a predator.  The unexpected impact of the nose against the small of my back sent a huge jolt of adrenaline rushing through my system.

    I acted, starting to throw myself sideways by pulling hard against the right side of the rock slab with my right arm, and extending my legs.  I also started to twist my left wrist as hard as I could while pushing down with my left hand at the same time.

    Tktktktk.

    The rattle stopped as the snake reacted as well, with unbelievable speed; hardwired perceptions likely reacted to my rapid sideways movement as the possible beginning of a flanking attack.  The only reason I saw the snake start to strike was because I thought it had already started to strike.  I had been so keyed up to act that when the swine bumped me, I had acted first.  Without the bump, if it had attacked, the snake would probably have been able to strike me before I was able to begin to react.

    At that point I was pushing as hard as I could, putting all of my arm and shoulder strength into my left arm and wrist, dredging up every possible bit of strength and speed I could manage.  Even though I didn''t believe I''d be able to react, I''d still planned what I would do if the snake struck - and it was striking.

    Time seemed to slow down and I watched the snake''s head streak through the air, straight towards my face, accelerating as the curves of its body straightened.  As it closed the gap between us, it opened its mouth wide.  It felt like a nightmare, when something terrible would happen that you couldn''t stop, but it would happening slowly enough that you had plenty of time to be even more terrified.

    Slowly, so slowly, I saw the bottom of the axe handle start to appear in my peripheral vision.  The length of hickory was also accelerating rapidly, but not as rapidly as the rattlesnake''s head.

    I watched the snake''s head start to twist to my right as the jaws widened even more hugely and the fangs extended.  In a completely useless moment of terrified but clear thought, I realized it was probably striking for my nose.  I pushed harder with my left arm, in a panic, and heard the crack of rock on rock as the axe head struck the slab.  The hickory shaft whipped forward in much more dramatic acceleration as I felt my wrist begin to twist and tighten painfully.  At that point, pain was the least of my worries, so I ignored it and pushed harder.

    The rattlesnake was no more than a hand''s width from my face when the axe handle struck it, about a decimeter behind its head.  The hickory handle dragged the body of the snake away from me, to my right, while the head and last few centimeters of the snake tried to compensate and finish the strike that it had started, continuing to reach towards me like the arm of a man falling from a roof.

    The mouth snapped shut bare centimeters from my nose as the axe handle finally took up all the slack in the snake''s body and started to draw the snake''s head farther away from my face.  My wrist, twisted too far and continuing to twist farther with the forces I''d applied to it, reflexively released its grip on the axe''s handle, and my leap continued.

    I watched the axe handle, still rotating rapidly, drag the snake bodily through the air like a floating ribbon struck by a broom handle.  The rattlesnake''s body curled into a ''u'' shape around the handle as it was forced away from me.

    My jump continued.  My right hand had long since left the stone slab and my legs were at about half extension; the swine around me were starting to react to my jump, stiffening and lowering the front halves of their bodies as they prepared to scatter.

    The world seemed to speed up again, and there was a chaotic explosion of pain and squeals as I bowled over two of the smaller sows, wrenching a shoulder as I struck the ground.

    Anu screamed, swine squealed around me in a panic, and I shielded my head with my right arm as I struggled to push myself up quickly with my left.  Being on the ground amongst any sort of panicked hooved animals was extremely bad.  I was probably more panicked than the swine.

    My left wrist collapsed in pain and I flopped against the ground, striking my head and seeing stars for a moment, stunned.  When I was able to think again, all I could see clearly was the legs and flanks of other swine.  That, and Hoss, who had his snout pushed up close to my waist, sniffing at the swine treat bag.  I wrapped both hands around my head and flopped over onto my stomach bumping several swine out of my way as I forced myself to knees and elbows.  A hoof pressed hard on the back of my right calf and I yelled in pain.  Something grabbed me by the neck and I felt myself being lifted bodily off the ground.

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    At first I thought Hoss or Bigboy had decided to grab onto my shirt and drag me somewhere which was rather frightening, if they stepped on me while trying to drag me, it would be very, very bad.  I swung my arm behind me to hit them with an elbow, hoping make them let loose, even at the risk of angering them.

    As I continued to be lifted into the air Anu said "Stop it Allen, It''s me, Anu!  Don''t hit me."

    I stopped struggling, shocked at the human voice.  I slowly realized that Anu had walked into the middle of the swine, and bodily lifted me out.  My heels dragged across the backs of a couple sows as she shifted her grip, releasing her right hand from my collar and wrapping it around my chest before taking more rapid steps.  The swine followed us closely.

    "Allen, did the snake bite you?  Why were the pigs attacking you?  Are you OK?  Can you talk?  Talk to me!"  She was in a near panic.

    "Stop.  Set me down.  They weren''t attacking me."  I tried to get my feet under me to stand, but couldn''t.  "Anu.  Stop."

    Anu said nothing and kept dragging me backwards at a near run, and I couldn''t get my feet under me.  Before I could decide to start struggling again, she stopped.  I got my footing as she let me go with her right arm but kept her left hand on my collar, as if she were worried I''d fall again, which was probably a good idea.

    I carefully turned to face her, trying to avoid putting weight on the painful right leg, and saw her straightening up with her axe held in her right hand and a very determined, dangerous look on her face.  I took a step back and nearly fell over as my right leg tried to collapse with a spike of pain.

    Anu took two steps forward and put herself between me and the swine, holding the axe in both hands like she was about to cut wood.

    Straightening myself to be more upright with a twinge, I grabbed her arm, partly for balance and partly to jerk her a little towards me, which barely budged her at all.  For some strange reason my mind picked that moment to note, she might be more massive than Edward.

    I tried to project calmness, but probably didn''t manage it very well, based on the worried look she gave me.  "Wait.  They didn''t attack me.  You don''t have to protect me.  Calm down."  The swine were inching closer and starting to flank us to either side, clearly extremely confused.  There was a human between them and me, and I hadn''t given them a treat yet.  They were probably smelling Anu''s fear as well as my own.

    And where is that snake!  I suddenly thought.

    "Whoah!" I called out, loudly, and the swine all stopped moving.  I should have done that when I''d found myself in the middle of them, but had been too panicked to think about it.

    Anu shook me off of her left arm with a shrug that almost threw me to the ground again.  She put both hands on the axe again and didn''t relax at all.  "They were stepping on you and not letting you stand up."

    "They are obeying commands now.  They only stepped on me once.  They were confused.  I jumped away from the snake.  I can explain it all in a minute or two."  I stopped and looked towards the slab.  "Where is the snake?"  I stepped toward Anu and put my hand on her axe.  "Give me the axe.  Everything is OK now."

    Anu looked at the swine, who had all stopped moving, looked at me, and let go of the axe, before saying, in a worried tone, "I hope you''re right."

    "Thank you." I replied as I collected her axe.  "Stay by the swine.  I''m grabbing one of the spears and finding that snake."

    Anu''s eyes got much bigger and her mouth dropped open slightly before snapping shut.  "You''re going to try to find it after running away from it?  Are you crazy?"

    "No, not crazy." I said as I carefully scanned the ground while painfully yet rapidly limping towards the load of cut saplings.

    I grabbed the thick end of a sapling in the pile that the boars had been hauling, and jerked it out.  Then I dropped Anu''s axe onto the grass and carefully scanned the ground along the long pile of stone, while walking towards the slab where the snake had been.

    As I got within about four meters, I saw the snake.  It had apparently overextended and fallen over the slab, or perhaps been dragged over to this side of the stones by the blow I''d struck it with the handle of the axe.

    Slapping the ground around it with the thin end of the sapling made the snake react to my presence.  It started to rear its head back and coil up.  There was no sound of a rattle, but that didn''t mean anything that I trusted, because rattlesnakes could lose their rattles.  I poked at the snake a couple more times with the three-meter-long sapling, and watched its reaction.  Only the quarter meter of the snake closest to its head was moving at all, and about half of that length seemed to be moving only because of what the head and the first decimeter of the body behind the head were doing.  Apparently, I''d broken its back with the axe handle.

    I flipped the sapling around and used the heavy end to drag the snake bit by bit out of the rocks, carefully keeping at least a meter''s distance from the head at all times.  At that distance, I could see the kink in the body where the axe handle had struck it.  The snake struck repeatedly at the thick end of the sapling, accomplishing nothing other than the loss of its fangs.

    "Allen, what are you doing?"  Anu complained in a frightened voice, from where she''d walked away from the swine and picked up her axe that I had dropped.

    "The snake''s back is broken.  I''m pulling it away from the rocks now.  In a minute, I''ll hold its head down with the sapling while you chop its head off."

    There was a clatter as Anu''s axe hit the pavement.  "What?"  She said in a small voice.

    I sighed to myself, and said, in what I hoped to be a confident voice without any sarcasm.  "Never mind."

    It took a little longer, and I had to be a lot more careful because I didn''t fully trust my right leg, but I eventually pulled the snake out, away from the rocks, found my own axe, and trapped the snake''s head with the sapling.  I carefully walked on the sapling out towards the snake and chopped its head off, only a few centimeters behind the skull.  Then I chopped the snake into short lengths, none longer than my hand.

    Anu had watched until I raised my axe, and then turned her back on the scene without saying anything to me. In my peripheral vision I saw her shoulders twitch every time my axe struck the body of the snake.

    If she hadn''t very possibly kept me from being crippled, I''d be angry right now, I thought, looking down at the snake head that I was carefully holding away from my body.  If I had stumbled and fallen while next to the snake, it could have bitten me.  It could still bite me.

    I needed to bring the head to Doctor Sten.  I wasn''t sure if might be able to do something with the venom without medical facilities, if the snake hadn''t used it all striking at the sapling.  Thinking about that, and not knowing if contact with skin could have a bad effect, I dropped my axe and threw the sapling into the woods.  Then I wiped both my hands and the axe handle on the grass and then my pants, carefully, one hand always carefully holding the snake head, which had stopped bleeding but was still occasionally twitching.

    It was getting dark, the elefants were trumpeting again as a return-to-camp signal, and the swine were sullenly staring at me, treatless, from where I''d frozen them with the whoah command a couple minutes before.  I limped up to Anu and she turned to face me with a grimace as her eyes drew down to the snake head now in my left hand.  It was clear that she didn''t approve.

    Setting the snake head and my axe down next to the travois, I said, "Its back was broken, Anu, and I''ve still got to feed the swine."  I didn''t tell her that I would have killed it anyway, that almost anything I could catch in the woods fed the family or fed the swine.  I left porcupines and skunks alone.

    Pulling my whistle out of the pouch, I blew a short blow, and pointed at the headless, chopped-up corpse of the rattlesnake, then said.  "Snake."

    Ten trained swine recognized a food word and rushed over to their much-larger-than-normal treat.  Speedy followed them, quickly joining in as she figured out they were eating.

    I carefully sat and probed my calf while checking for blood on my ankle as I waited for the swine to finish eating the snake.  Fortunately, even though it hurt like mad, there was no blood, and it didn''t feel like either bone in my calf was broken.  I''d still need Doctor Sten to take a look at it, since I didn''t have Granpa, Pa, or Ma to check it.  As I watched, waiting for the swine to finish, every now and then I''d hear the sound of the snake''s rattle.

    Speedy pulled something away from the rest of the feeding swine and worried it a little, almost like a dog with a bone, chewing on it and pushing it into the ground with rapid playful movements.  There were occasional rattles, so it was pretty obvious what she was playing with.  She was young enough that she still played fairly regularly, was full enough to actually appear a bit rounded.  After a moment, she lifted her head into the air a bit and shook her new toy back and forth a couple times, vigorously.  The rattlesnake rattle sounded loudly, tktktktktk, and several of the other swine turned rapidly to face Speedy, making attention grunts.

    Unable to help myself, I laughed loudly and the swine all turned to stare at me, briefly.  When there was no command from me, the larger swine turned back to the serious business of eating.  Speedy, stared at me a little longer, with the last six inches of the snake''s tail sticking out of the side of her mouth.  She shook her head, making the tail rattle some more before she dropped it and poked it a couple times with her snout.  Finally, she picked the tail up again, shook it one more time, and swallowed it before waddling back to where the others were still eating.

    In my peripheral vision I saw Anu shift her weight from leg to leg.  I looked up at her and saw her staring at the swine with a concerned look.  "Allen, they really aren''t very adorable anymore." She said, in a sad voice.

    It was certainly a good thing that is was too dark for her to see the blood that would be liberally painted along their jaws.  There would be streaks along their flanks above their front legs from where they had pushed bloody jowls against each other as they jockeyed for positions as the snake was eaten.  I reached up a hand and she reflexively reached down to give me a hand up without taking her eyes off the swine.

    After standing, I ignored the pain in my right leg as I spoke in a slow, careful tone.  "Our swine are smarter than farm pigs, and smarter than horses or cows too.  We''ve bred them for intelligence for thousands of years.  I''d say they are smarter than dogs, but Marza doesn''t agree with me."  I paused, thinking.  "Her border collies are really smart, I have to admit."

    I paused again as I realized I was drifting off topic.  Anu was looking towards me, but not enough towards me that she stopped looking at the swine, who were now rooting up the grass where the snake had been, grunting deep grunts of pleasure as they greedily consumed the blood-soaked turf.  "At the end of the day, Anu, they''re still swine.  I don''t think we''ll ever change that."

 Chapter 14

    We met the search party not much more than a half kilometer from camp.  There were three people in the party.  I recognized all of them by lantern light, but I only knew Emerald.

    As they approached, the woman held the lantern a bit higher and called out "Allen, Anu, is that you?"

    Anu called out.  "Yes, Sara, Allen got a little banged up, he''ll need to see the doctor when we get back to camp."

    I recognized Sara as the woman who had been partnered with the dark-haired man as they carried saplings back to camp.  The black-haired man that had been with Sara earlier was there too.  Emerald was also with them.

    The three of them walked rapidly towards us, slowing when they got close.  Sara was carefully carrying a glass alcohol lantern in heavy leather wrappings for their group.  She and Emerald both very obviously looked towards my right leg as they approached, watching my limping gait.  My right hand was on top of Anu''s left shoulder and my left hand holding the reins for the boars.  Sara looked concerned a bit.  Emerald shrugged and didn''t look concerned at all.

    The dark-haired man asked, "Are you OK?"

    Sara and Emerald both looked at him with a sharp glance.  It was certainly clear to both them that I wasn''t OK, but it was also pretty obvious that I wasn''t in terribly bad condition.  The two of them looked back at me.  Sara with a bit of an apologetic look, and Emerald a little warily.

    I was irritated that he asked.  I wouldn''t be walking on it so easily if it was serious, but I could see from his expression that he really was concerned, so I bit back the smart comment.

    After a second to make sure I was calm, I nodded, and then spoke.  "Not quite OK, but not bad.  Ran into a rattlesnake while climbing over roadside rocks.  Sprained my left wrist and a bit of a sore shoulder.  One of my swine stepped on my calf in the chaos, but I don''t think it broke or tore anything.  My knee and ankle feel fine.  It''s going to be a fantastic bruise though, I bet."

    Sara and Emerald both nodded.  The dark-haired man nodded too, after a moment eying the swine.  Being stepped on by farm animals happened often enough that everyone who grew up on a farm knew it was no laughing matter.  Just looking at the small hooved feet of swine, as the dark-haired man had clearly just done, would tell anyone with any common sense that my getting away without broken bones or torn muscles was fortunate.

    "Are we the only ones still not back?"  I asked.

    Emerald answered that.  "No, there were others.  Not many dogs handy for tracking.  Ely, Sara, and I remembered seeing you.  Sara and Ely knew where Anu had been cutting.  We were told to try to find you."  Each sentence was short and to the point.

    It had been a little too tense of a meeting for everyone to be introduced properly, but thanks to Emerald''s statements I knew everyone''s name, at least.  "Thank you for coming to find us Emerald, Sara, Ely.  We don''t plan on stopping again, and I don''t think I''m much of a burden to Anu like this."

    Anu chuckled, her shoulder heaving a bit under my supporting hand.  After a couple chuckles, she spoke.  "Hardly."

    I smiled at Anu''s reaction and then addressed Emerald, who seemed to be in charge.  Or maybe he had simply taken charge?  The other two didn''t seem upset with him.  "Please go back and let whoever sent you know that Anu and I will be back in a few minutes.  I''d also appreciate it if you tell the doctor that I''ll need a check on my calf and a poultice for a nasty bruise; it''s already tight inside the leg of my pants."

    Emerald nodded and said "Yes, to both." before he turned and started walking rapidly back towards the camp.  The other two just stared at his back for a second, looked back at Anu and I, and then walked quickly after Emerald.

    A few minutes later we were back in camp, next to Happy''s six-wheeled wagon at the side of the road.  There were two piles of saplings next to the wagon, one pile consisted of ash saplings of the three-meter length that had been asked for.  The other pile was clearly for rejects - different types of trees mostly, but some too short and others that were obviously damaged.  There were a lot of rejects.

    I quickly unhitched the boars and gave them treats for their work in harness.  I tried to help Anu untie the bundle of ash saplings and the two axes we''d tied onto the bundle, but she waved me off as she knelt by the pile.  "Go put your swine away and find the doctor to look at your leg.  I''ll bring the straps to your carriage shortly."

    Nodding, I agreed with her.  "I will, thank you.  The guards won''t let you into my carriage because it has medical supplies in it.  They may not even let you close to it.  If that''s the case, ask them to put the straps on the carriage bench if you don''t see me."

    "OK" Anu nodded, as she kneeled down and started untying the straps around the saplings.

    As I walked slowly towards my carriage to put away the swine, I struggled a bit on my right leg.  I was using the shortened sapling I''d cut into a chest pole for the boar harness as a cane.  The swelling in my calf was now constricting my leg in my pants tightly enough that I could feel every beat of my pulse.  I would probably have to cut my pants from the knee down to get them off.

    I saw Quartermaster Brown and Lieutenant Davis appear from the officer''s tent, walking towards me.

    "I told you we needed to send them out in mixed groups of rural and non-rural people!" The quartermaster said in an exasperated tone.  "Almost a third of the saplings brought back are useless.  We''ve got five lost in the woods, and we''ll have to send people out to collect more ash saplings tomorrow as well, instead of edible forage!"

    By the time Quartermaster Brown finished speaking, the fast-walking officers were no more than a few feet from me, and I was edging towards the side a bit to give them room to pass, watching my swine by the lights of all the nearby campfires to make sure they stayed near me and didn''t get too much in the way of the officers.

    Lieutenant Davis looked at me, and then his head turned to look beyond me towards where Anu was.  "Three."

    "Three what?"  The quartermaster asked with a puzzled look.

    The lieutenant nodded at me as they walked past.  "Welcome back, Allen.  Emerald said that you and Anu were bringing a lot of extra saplings with you, and that they all appeared to be ash.  That will be useful."  He looked away from me, towards the quartermaster.  "The two that were found slowly walking back are here now.  This is Allen.  I think I see Anu now, at the sapling piles.  That is Anu, right, Allen?"

    I nodded at the two of them.  "Good night, sirs.  Yes, Anu is at Happy''s wagon.  Have you seen Doctor Sven?  I need him to look at my leg."

    Lieutenant Davis nodded.  "Emerald told us.  Doctor Sven said you would be headed to your carriage with your swine if you could walk, and he''d meet you there.  He left the officer''s tent shortly before we did."

    "Thank you, sir." I responded with a nod of my head.

    We passed each other, and the quartermaster called out.  "Anu, don''t sort those yet.  I have to look at them."

    I heard Anu call back "Understood.  Leave them?  I have two axes to return as well."

    "No, we''ll be there shortly."

    Behind me I heard Lieutenant Davis sigh.  "I grant that you were right before.  The captain and I both came from a rural background.  It''s hard to know what other people don''t know."

    "I told you what they wouldn''t know, because I didn''t know it?"  The quartermaster objected.

    I did my best to not laugh, and was very glad I hadn''t heard the quartermaster say that when the lieutenant could see my face.

    In a tired-sounding voice the lieutenant responded again.  "You were right, Paul.  Sorry.  Like Captain Marko said, we''ll start sending them out in mixed groups from now on."

    I walked past a few wagons and saw my carriage.  Someone was sitting in the open door of the carriage.  I could see their feet below the door, even though the door blocked my view of the rest of their body.  It was almost certainly Doctor Sven.

    As I walked by the wagons with my attention focused on the carriage, someone said "stop" from about three feet to my left.  I was startled enough to hop a bit to one side, which hurt.  A lot.  Worse, I lost my grip on the chest pole.  There was an irritated grunt and the sound of snuffling as the pole apparently fell on one of my swine, who then checked to see if it was edible.

    "Jumpy, are you?" The guard chuckled as she looked at my face.  "Sorry to make you hop, Allen, I just needed to be sure it was you."

    "No harm done."  I smiled.  "Don''t do that to Doctor Sven though."

    There was a cough from the carriage.  "My ears still work."

    "You know I''m right.  You''re no spring chicken." I called back.

    Doctor Sven chuckled, but he didn''t say anything else.

    I looked at the ground to see where the chest pole went, and saw a long straight shadow about a meter from me, next to a wagon wheel.  Carefully, I put my right hand on the side of the wagon while bending my left knee to lower myself with my right leg held mostly straight behind me.  As my good left leg and right arm supported me, I tried to collect the pole with my left hand with the sprained wrist.

    "That looks painful.  Want help?"  The guard commented.

    A bit late, I thought to myself, but her voice seemed sincere and what I could see of her expression in the poor light looked a bit worried.

    My hand gripped the pole, and I straightened, putting a lot of weight on my right arm.  "I have it, thanks for the offer."

    I thumped the pole on the ground, adjusted my grip, and walked towards my carriage while calling out.  "Let me get them settled under the carriage, Doctor."

    "OK, Allen."

    While I carefully leaned into the carriage with my right hip, I removed the harness from the boars, and put both sets in my pouch, making a mental note to inspect and clean them before sleeping.  Then I cajoled the swine under the carriage one at a time, counting heads, tapping them very lightly with the pole to guide them into the unfamiliar place.  Thankfully, there were eleven heads.

    I carefully stabilized myself with my right hand against the carriage and used my left hand to insert the last four slats before turning to walk around the carriage, using the pole as a long cane.

    "You''re walking awfully gingerly on that leg.  How much is pain, how much is caution?"  Doctor Sven had walked around the carriage and stood a few feet away, watching me.

    I just looked at him for a second, trying to figure out if I needed to be annoyed at him.  I would have asked for help walking, if I needed it.

    "I wanted to see you walk, so walk."  He rolled his hand in front of him impatiently.

    Wanting to see me move made sense.  It''s how we judged livestock injury.  I shrugged and obeyed, walking carefully around the carriage.  "About half and half, Doctor."  I answered him.  "It hurts, but some of the slowness is just me being careful.  It''s swelling fairly badly, I can tell.  Earlier I checked for bleeding and there wasn''t any, but I haven''t seen the wound."

    "Well, we get to use your bed as a medical table before you get to sleep on it then.  See if you can get your pants off without needing to cut the fabric.  If you can''t, I''ll cut a seam for you as cleanly as I can so you can patch it up."

    Climbing into the carriage and past the centrifuge boxes hurt.  I had to walk in a crouch and carefully place my feet until I got to the bed, and that put a lot of strain on my calf.  I almost couldn''t do it, but made it happen anyway, with several curses under my breath.

    I finally managed to get myself seated on the bed in the carriage and take the weight off my leg.  Unfortunately, my calf was jammed into my pants like an overstuffed sausage.  Trying to squeeze my calf with both hands to press out some of the swelling so I could get the leg out without cutting the pants wasn''t even a remote possibility.  Far too painful.  I finally gave up.  "I''ve got a sewing kit, sir.  Cut it, please."

    Doctor Sven had been standing outside, holding open the door of the carriage, watching me without entering.  After I asked him to cut open the leg of the pants he nodded.  "Lay on your stomach, with your right leg closer to the door."

    "Yes, sir."  I did as he asked, whistling and wheezing a couple times in pain as I bent my leg inside the tight pants leg.

    The doctor leaned over and picked up two somethings.  A moment later he tossed his pillow that he''d sat on earlier in the day at me.  "Hold this a minute."

    As he climbed in, I could see that he had a small leather bag in his hand.  His first aid kit bag.

    "This won''t do", he complained a moment after he stepped into the carriage, hunched over and looking at the centrifuge crates on the floor.

    He climbed back out of the carriage and leaned in, lifting a centrifuge crate and setting it on the second crate that was right behind it.  Then he climbed in and picked up the crate again and put it on the crate next to the bed.  "Pick that up and put it on the bed, for now." He ordered.  "I need a place to sit, and I don''t want to break an ankle."

    I sat up on the bed with more leg pain, picked up the crate with some effort, and then set it at one end of the bed, where my feet would be.  With as much swelling as I''d seen already, I knew I would be elevating my leg that night, so I was just getting ahead of the game.  I once again went through the contortions of laying on my stomach with my right side facing the door of the carriage, trying to avoid bending leg.

    I heard the swine underneath us grunting little noises of curiosity at the scrapes and bouncing of the carriage on its suspension.  I knocked on the wall of the carriage.  "Quiet."  The swine settled.

    Doctor Sven picked up the crate closer to me and set it on the one that had been in the middle.  "Pillow please."  He gestured with his fingers and I handed him the pillow.

    A moment later, Doctor Sven had his two-crate seat, and I was leaning over my leg, inspecting my pants.

    "You know, I considered that I might have to use this carriage for first aid on the way to where we will be setting up permanent camp, but I was expecting to have a strong young back to help me arrange everything."  He chuckled.  "That was supposed to be you.  And here you go ruining my plans be being the first injured person."

    "Sorry to interfere with your plans, sir."  I said with a little chuckle.

    A moment later I felt the doctor heard the doctor rummaging around in his bag as he muttered to himself.  "Sailcloth pants with exposed wool stitching.  This will be simple.  I won''t damage the cloth at all."

    I was watching him as he lifted up a sheathed glass knife, and removed it from its sheath.

    He looked at me, and grinned.  "You won''t be seeing metal today, Allen, glass will cut stitches just fine."

    "I didn''t expect it, doctor.  I''ve seen metal before though.  Twice."

    "Really?  Tell me about it?" he said as he leaned over my leg with the glass knife.

    We started talking back and forth.  I told him about what I remembered of Granpa''s lower leg amputation, and the huge responsibility I''d been given to stand next to the kitchen entrance with a broom and poke anyone who got close to warn them about the tools being boiled.

    "We don''t have to talk about that if you don''t want to?"  The doctor replied back with caution in his voice.

    "It was a long time ago, sir.  Granpa survived and is still alive and mobile on crutches."

    "A long time ago, you say?"  He chuckled.  "Doctor Pelter, was the town doctor, right?"

    "Yes, sir." I replied.

    We continued with small talk for a while and after a couple minutes, the stitches had been picked, and the doctor was poking and prodding at my calf.

    "Hrm."  He said.  "You walked a kilometer on this?  Put weight on it repeatedly, not just hopping on your other leg?"

    "Yes, sir.  You saw me walking.  It wasn''t that bad when I started, but the swelling made it worse over time."

    "I see.  It''s too swollen for me to properly feel both bones, but I''d still be able to feel a severe break.  Also, if you walked that far, the worst break I imagine you might have is a hairline.  We''ll assume that for treatment."

    "So, you said you have seen metal twice?  What was the second time?" he asked as he started to poke and prod at the bruise, as well as above and below it, making me hiss in pain.

    "Yes, sir.  I noticed the other day that the Countyman''s glass ring of office has a thin band of metal inside it.  I''d never noticed that before."

    "It''s not glass, it''s a hardened plastic of some sort.  The band is a transmitter and receiver.  Albert gives them to all his officers."  Doctor Sven started opening cabinets and I saw him pull out a couple large pots.  "Move over a bit, I need room to mix the poultice."

    I moved over and the doctor started mixing powders together.  I recognized the small of comfrey, witch hazel, and garlic.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    A few minutes later, the doctor had prepared the mixture, gathered the bandages out of his bag, and removed the stitches up above my knee.

    "The swelling in your leg is bad, but not severe.  Your pants were a bit small on you.  That''s not uncommon at your age."  He paused and looked at me with a small smile.  "As you get older the fitting problems with legwear migrate from the hem and calves to the waist."  He chuckled.  "Still, I''m going to put you in a compression bandage and treat with a poultice of comfrey and witch hazel."

    "Will I be able to walk on it tomorrow?"  I asked.

    "No, not easily."  He paused.  "Actually, your granpa has been on crutches for many years?"

    I nodded, "Yes sir."

    "No problem then.  I''ll get you a pair of crutches.  I know some were packed.  If you''ve lived with someone who had to use them, at your age, I know full well you also learned to get around on them."  He paused and then grinned at me.  "Even if you were told not to touch them."

    I laughed.  "Zeke and I borrowed Granpa''s crutches all the time.  He eventually made us our own, so he wouldn''t want to go somewhere and have to hop on one leg."  I shrugged.  "That never happened, we always practiced in his sight, but he..."  All of a sudden, I realized that Granpa had intentionally taught us how to use crutches.  He had been laughing at us and with us, but making us our own crutches was clearly an effort to teach a skill.

    "You OK there, Allen?" Doctor Sven asked as he looked towards me.

    I closed my mouth.  "I just realized that Granpa wasn''t just having fun with us when he made us our own crutches and had Zeke and I race each other on them."  I responded while playing back a few memories in my head.

    "Using fun to disguise teaching useful skills?  Sounds about right for a crafty old man."  He chuckled.

    Then he put a pressure bandage on my leg.  Things were not pleasant for a while, but the doctor did keep my mind occupied with stories about his youth on the ranch while it felt like he was twisting my leg off.

    As he cleaned up, Doctor Sven started telling me what I needed to do and not do.  "Keep the leg elevated when you sleep.  For tonight, don''t take off your pants, just sleep in them."  He stood and tossed his pillow on the crate laying on my bed.  "I''ll want that back tomorrow, but you can use it tonight."

    I nodded.  "Yes, sir."

    He started holding fingers up in the air, straightening one at a time as he gave me instructions.  "Do not apply wet or dry heat to the leg today, or tomorrow, or the bruising might get worse.  Do not remove the bandage or poultice without my permission.  If the pain gets a little worse that''s fine.  If it gets a lot worse, tell me.  Do you know what skin blanching is?"

    "Subcutaneous blood flow indicator."  I repeated from health class.  "Put pressure on light skin or a finger or toe nail and it should get a good bit lighter.  When pressure is released, the skin or nail will darken quickly back to its prior shade when pressure is released."

    The doctor nodded.  "Exactly.  If you start to feel pins-and-needles sensations in your lower leg, start trying to find me.  Also, if you get pins-and-needles check your foot in several places for blanching, and compare it to blanching on your other foot.  If the blanching test fails, you have my permission in advance to immediately cut off the bandage.  I''d rather have to replace the bandage than remove the leg below the knee."

    "Understood, sir." I responded, nodding enthusiastically.

    "I thought you might agree with me." He commented with a smile.  "I''ll replace the poultice three times tomorrow, before we move, after we stop, and then again before bed.  The next morning, if it doesn''t get worse, I might decide to start putting a little bit of warmth on it for a few minutes and see how it reacts.  If there aren''t complications. After four days I''ll have you soaking it in warm water for an hour every morning and night and drinking willow bark tea."

    I nodded, but said nothing.

    He continued.  "I want you to stay active if you can, since you can use crutches.  I''ll talk to the other officers and we''ll figure out something for you to do."

    "Oh, sir, I forgot this.  I reached into my pouch and pulled out the swine harness, carefully, and set it aside.  Then I pulled out the rattlesnake head.  I had checked after it was well and truly dead, and it no longer had fangs, having broken them off attacking the sapling I''d trapped it with.

    "Ah, Emerald mentioned that there was a snake involved.  I see it didn''t get away."  He paused, thinking.  "I don''t have the extra horses here to make antivenins.  There are some being sent that are already antivenin plasma producers, but they are a few days behind us."  He paused and then curiously brushed his fingers against the edge of the stump at the back of the snake''s head, and a few grains of sand fell off.  "You carry sand in your bag?  Why?"

    My mind raced and I looked at the snake head.  "I picked up a handful at the creek.  It''s an idea I want to talk to Lieutenant Davis about."

    There was a pause, and then Doctor Sven slapped his hands together.  "Well, if you toss that head on a campfire tomorrow for a few minutes and drag it out, it''ll be safe for your swine to eat.  After the breakfast cooking is done, of course.  You''d probably irritate the quartermaster if you threw a snakehead in the fire when breakfast was being cooked."

    We both chuckled.

    My stomach took that moment to make its displeasure known.  I hadn''t eaten much at all that day.  A good breakfast, the flatbread from Ma, and then some hardtack and dried fish that had been distributed while we were on the move.

    Doctor Sven laughed at my stomach noises.  "I''ll have one of the wagon park guards bring you a meal.  You can move around if you have to, but I''d rather you not, at least until tomorrow morning."  He pointed at the folded harness next to my pouch.  "That looks like it needs some cleaning before tomorrow."

    He was right.  I started cleaning the harness, and a few minutes later ate a bowl of lukewarm rice and beans that tasted burnt but was still edible.  After eating I continued cleaning harness which had gotten bloody from the snake.  A little while after finishing that, I was handed a ball of straps that I was told had been delivered by Anu.  She wasn''t allowed access to the wagon park.

    Except when I was eating, I stayed laying on my back, with my right leg elevated on top of the pillowed crate.  After I finished the harness and checked the straps I rearranged everything so I''d only have to set the crate on my bed on the floor before the inside of the carriage would be ready for travel.

    I was still a bit hungry and feeling sorry for myself, so I opened the bag of flatbreads Marza had made for me and picked one that looked like the wax was coming off on one corner.  They would keep a couple days without refrigeration, even unsealed, but it was best to eat the ones that might break seal first.

    Blackberry and honey.  And something else.  I had to sniff several times and think before I recognized it.  Honeysuckle.  That brought back a lot of good memories of walking home from school with Marza, eating muscadines, blackberries, and honeysuckle as we alternately talked and teased each other.  As we got older there was a lot of kissing and handholding, and the occasional sneaking into the bushes for explorations that our parents wouldn''t have appreciated nor been surprised by, but that we were careful not to take too far.

    Those warm memories helped me ignore the dull thump of my pulse under the pressure bandage, and I slept.

    **

    Granpa kneeled down in front of the two of us.  Pa held each of us by one shoulder in front of him, my shoulder was at Pa''s hip, Zeke was a lot taller.

    Granpa reached out a hand to each of our chins and held us firmly, but not painfully, staring us each in the eye in turn.  "I need you two to watch carefully, and not turn away.  Swine are obedient if trained well, and fed well, but if you aren''t giving them orders, or they aren''t fed, they can hurt you, badly, fast."

    The swine had all been staring at us as we looked over the rock wall, making hungry noises.  Even then I knew that they expected to be fed, and were irritated that they hadn''t been.  They were lined up a few feet from the fence, close to the feed trough.  Some of them were rooting around, but there wasn''t much to be found in this enclosure, it was normally used for farrowing, and hadn''t grown back yet after the prior winter.  Zeke and I had pulled out the old hay and bedding material the prior week and put it in the main house compost pit in the large swine holding enclosure.

    Granpa picked up the front legs of the stillborn calf and Edward picked up the back legs.

    "On the third forward swing, over the fence, Edward." Granpa said.

    Edward nodded, saying nothing.

    They swung the corpse back and forth three times with Granpa counting, and after he said "three" they released the body and it went over the fence into the swine pen and flopped around on the ground.

    The sows shied away from the body as it hit the ground, but the four adult boars were on top of it before it stopped moving.  Seconds later, the corpse was hidden by swine bodies.  About three minutes later, the boars and larger sows were carrying off bones.  Smaller sows and a couple immature boars were rooting around for leftover bits.

    Zeke and I stood stock still.

    Granpa had been watching us watch the swine.  "Now you know why you never, ever forget to feed the swine, and never sleep on the ground around the farm.  If the swine get hungry enough, they will break conditioning and jump the fence.  They would have to be very hungry indeed to eat a live person, but you don''t want to be the rare example."

    I shot bolt upright in bed with a yell, my hands held over my face.  Something was biting my leg!  It hurt!  I started to swing my arms to drive off the swine that were eating me and then suddenly realized that I''d been having a nightmare.

    I fell back into the thin mattress of the bed and heard the swine grunting below me, with undertones of curiosity and hunger.  The sound of swine making hungry noises when I was asleep explained the nightmare.

    Granpa hadn''t warned me that this would happen, I thought, bitterly.

    Stop being stupid, I thought to myself an instant later, realizing how absurd the prior thought had been.

    My leg, no longer on the pillowed crate, was throbbing to my pulse, about a second per beat, rapidly slowing as I calmed down.

    I could smell bread cooking, and no doubt the swine could too.  I hadn''t gotten any bread last night, and based on how burnt the rice and beans had tasted, I wasn''t sure if I was upset about that or not.  However, the swine would be upset if I didn''t get some sort of food into them.

    I carefully, painfully, dragged myself into a seated position. It was still dark out, but the smell of fresh baking bread told me it probably wasn''t too long until dawn.  I poked at my leg in the dark, trying to check for numbness.

    Fortunately, or unfortunately, I wasn''t sure which, my calf wasn''t numb.  Each gentle pressure yielded a wincing pain.  I carefully put on my shirt, pouch, belt, swine treat bag, and moccasins before taking the crate off the bed and putting it on the floor, with the doctor''s pillow on top.  After that, I cautiously, painfully made my way across the carriage and out the door.

    I pulled my staff out of the ceiling netting, and used it to support my weight as I looked around.  I had no idea where the jakes were, and I didn''t want to leave a surprise for anyone to step in.

    A short time later, I had two ration loaves of wheat bread made with raisins and onions.  The tastes didn''t go well together, but I supposed that discouraging overeating might be part of the intent.  It really wasn''t that bad.

    I was directed to the jakes and the washing station, and shortly afterwards managed to salvage the leftovers from the prior day for my swine.  The horses and elefants had refused to eat the burnt rice and beans when it had been offered to them.  The head cook had seen my swine and saved the leftovers, knowing from her experience working in an inn that swine didn''t care if food was burnt.  The city inns apparently sold all their kitchen wastes to pig farmers, and burnt food was no problem.

    "Don''t expect to get this much waste often, Allen!" she admonished me.  "I''m not used to cooking on meerschaum-coated concrete.  I''ve been cooking in good glass for forty years."  She threw up her hands in the air with a flourish as she walked away from me and the large leather sack of waste.  "I have no idea why anyone would cook like this, but I have to.  None of my helpers have ever cooked on this stuff before, either.  None of us have ever heard of anyone cooking on it.  It''s five times heavier than even cheap glass."  She spun around to look at me again, squinting.  "Pol, help this young man carry the waste sack to the wagon park."

    An older balding man stood up from where he had been tending a fire, and tapped the woman next to him, who nodded.  He walked over to me, and nodded to me but said nothing as he picked up the bag.

    "Thanks, Mrs. Zeta."  I smiled at her and she gave me a nod."  I turned to Pol.  "Thank you too, Pol.  I''m Allen."

    "I heard."  He nodded, not unfriendly, but not friendly.  "You''re over at the wagon park?"

    "Yes, please."

    A few minutes later, after the guards refused to allow Pol past the wagons, I just had him pour the waste food on the ground next to the road, at the edge of the wagon park.  After I thanked him, he took the empty waste food bag back to the cooking fires.

    I hobbled over to the carriage and put one of my rations of bread inside the carriage.  Then I let the swine out, and led them over to the pile of waste food.  Thirty kilos of burnt rice and beans wasn''t enough to fill the swine up, so I hobbled around with them, letting them root around the camp, keeping them away from the hitched elefants and horses, and human jakes.

    Swine could (and happily would) consume animal and human waste.  I wouldn''t let them, unless I knew it had been heated to over the boiling point of water and kept there for thirty minutes.  At the farm, all of our pig, human, cow, and horse waste went through a separate compost pile and then into the field with a spreader.  The swine didn''t get to touch it until a crop had been growing a month in the soil.  Pig toilets were used in some far northern communities, I knew, but we discouraged it when asked.  The disease vectors were pretty frightening, especially in warm climates.  Just thinking about it made me shudder.

    I needed to consider the possibilities though.  If I could set up a heating station away from camp, there would be more than enough waste to feed the swine, between elefants, horses, and people.  If I had to.  I really would rather just feed them forage, but I had to keep my mind open.  Trying to forage in the deep woods on crutches was just another accident waiting to happen, and I still wasn''t sure how bad my leg was damaged.

    After I hobbled around the camp in near-darkness for a while, staying within sight and hearing of the wagon park, I leaned against a small white oak while the swine happily ate acorns.  Reaching into my pouch, I pulled out the snake head and threw it away.  Cooking the thing would be too much effort for less than a quarter kilo of lean meat and bone.

    When dawn finally gave me enough light to read, I pulled Ma''s letter out of my pouch and read the rules again to verify I had memorized them accurately.  Tearing up the three sheets took a second.  Balling up the pieces took a few more seconds.  My swine happily ate the hemp-based paper as treats.

    The next several minutes were filled with some very troublesome thoughts.

    As I hobbled back to camp, I wasn''t sure whether or not Ma would appreciate what I was planning to do with the knowledge she''d given me.  Worse, I wasn''t sure what Albert would do if it came to his attention.

    I sighed to myself and put aside my reservations as I hobbled back to the wagon park.  Doctor Sven would probably be waiting for me, to replace the poultice.

    Maybe I''m wrong?  I thought to myself, hopefully.

    If not, there really wasn''t anything else I could do, and still live with myself if we failed.

 Chapter 15

    After Doctor Sven checked the circulation in my lower leg, tested my pain levels a bit, and replaced the poultice, he was good enough to help me get the swine in harness.  The swine wouldn''t listen to him very well, so he couldn''t help directly.  Still, he knew enough about harness to hand them to me without tangling them into a knot.  With my calf being what it was, the less walking I had to do, the better.

    He had also brought a pair of crutches, which were a little bit short.  Not short enough to make them unusable, but short enough to be uncomfortable.

    "I was hoping those would be tall enough." He grumbled when I tried them out.

    I shrugged.  "I can still use them.  I can find a couple saplings and make a crutch or two later, maybe."

    The doctor looked at me for a moment, confused.  "No.  We have two carpenters who brought tools.  They will be able to make crutches that won''t blister or bruise your armpits faster than you can."

    I hobbled over on one of the short crutches and checked the swine that were in harness again, "Why take up their time for something I can do myself?  I''m sure the other officers have things for the carpenters to be doing."

    He slapped the side of the carriage hard enough that it startled me.  "Allen, I am an officer.  I will ask one of the carpenters to make you crutches.  You are not an officer, you will not gainsay me."  He started to climb carefully up onto the bench seat of the carriage.  "That doesn''t mean you can''t discuss it with me, but I don''t see you saying anything that will change what we have planned for you to do."

    I opened my mouth as I stared at him, while I was still leaning over Hoss and Bigboy.  He said ''we.''

    I shook my head and closed my mouth.  "I see.  So what will I be doing?"

    "Several people spoke favorably of the brief lessons you gave with regards to how to handle and care for an axe.  The Quartermaster Brown and one of the carpenters took a couple of those people to the side to demonstrate what you taught.  We were going to have you teach others how to use and care for axes and other tools you could demonstrate proficiency in.  That was before we discovered you had been injured."

    "I see, and now that I am injured, there''s no need to change plans."

    "Exactly."  The doctor pulled a small, thick book from his pouch.  "While we travel today, I''m going to test your knowledge of plants that will be of use to me, which might be found in the area that we are setting up our permanent camp."

    The half day we spent on the road was full of me discovering how little I really understood about medically useful plants.  I recognized most of the plants, but many of them had uses I''d never heard of before.  Unfortunately, most of those uses required careful and very precise processing.

    Sodium nitroprusside, for example, could be processed from cyanide extracted from apple seeds, or the pits of peaches, and apricots.  Doctor Sven explained that it could be used to reduce blood pressure dramatically, enough to make it useful for surgery.  But if made wrong or administered incorrectly, it was deadly.  Before that day, I''d only known that it wasn''t good to allow swine to eat large amounts of those seeds or pits because of the cyanide.  That was one of many interesting tidbits of herbal chemistry that would be of little use to me alone, but would allow me to assist in helping the doctor maintain medical stores after his medical building was established, the equipment set up, and a couple pharmacists arrived from New Charleston.

    **

    The half day on the road wasn''t terrible, despite the fact that every significant bounce or bump of the carriage caused me a spike of pain as I used the leg to keep myself balanced on the bench.  The doctor''s quizzing and testing helped me take my mind off the pain.

    Getting off the carriage was something of a relief, even though getting onto my feet was a bit painful.  My leg was stiffening up.  My shoulder and wrist were irritating me.

    Doctor Sven joined the other officers as they gathered together, and then wandered back and forth along the road, pointing here and there, clearly trying to decide how to set up camp.  Quartermaster Brown had several sheets of paper, and was scribbling notes between his own comments.

    The wagon park was established first, and guards assigned.  The cooks were already starting fires and unloading the cooking equipment that they hated and the rice and beans which would become the afternoon meal.

    We were on the New Charleston side of the Crooked River, which defined the border between New Charleston and New Tokyo.  Looking downhill, the bridge crossing the river was a skeleton of stone.  There were several fresh blackened spots next to the bridge indicating where the heavy timbers and planks that used to be the roadbed across the bridge had gone.

    The burn marks were on our side, and anyone from New Tokyo would certainly want to maintain the bridge.  I was certain our scouts were responsible.

    This river was narrower than the Mud River that passed fairly close to town and continued inland to New Charleston, but the water was moving much faster, and the bed was rocky.  Crossing here without a bridge would be dangerous.  The terrain was steeper here than near town.  There might be better river crossings upstream or downstream.

    I''ve got better things to do than daydream. I muttered to myself under my breath, turning back to my carriage.

    According to what Doctor Sven had said, I would be teaching people how to use axes, adzes, and wedges soon to anyone that couldn''t prove competency.  After I taught the basics of use and safety, the workers would be sent to start cutting trees, working with the three retired elefants.

    None of that would start until after the immediate camp needs like the jakes, washing station, and cooking area was set up.  I wasn''t able to assist with labor like that in my current state, so I was sure I had at least a few minutes.  I quickly set the carriage''s wheel chocks, and dropped the slats through the holes in the carriage baseboard to establish a pen for the swine.  It took another five minutes to remove all their leashes and harnesses, and store them inside the carriage.

    I painfully climbed onto the carriage bench and stood, turning around, looking for oak, fruit, or nut trees.  There was a persimmon tree, but it wouldn''t be ripe yet.  I saw what looked to be a small stand of red oak close by, downhill and to the downstream side of the road.

    Marking trees that can provide forage so they won''t be chopped down for firewood would be a good idea, I thought to myself.

    I carefully climbed down from the carriage, making sure to put my good leg on the ground first to hold my weight.

    I blew my whistle lightly and gave the command for my swine to follow.  The sows hadn''t done much more than start to crop grass and sniff the turf.  Hoss and Bigboy, of course, had already begun rooting, but hadn''t created a significant walking hazard yet.

    Carefully, I crutched my way a little downhill before crossing the low stone mound, making certain to use one of my crutches to tap around to disturb any possible snakes.  I found no unpleasant surprises.  The swine hopped the short stone pile, and were eagerly searching for edibles in the new forest, a place they had never been before.

    Looking up and downhill, I noticed something odd.  The roadside piles of broken paving stones near the top of the slope between the bridge and the flat land were tall, but just a few meters downhill they were very short.  The piles at the base of the hill near the bridge were very tall again.  For a few seconds, that puzzled me and then I realized why after remembering some conversations with the road crew.  Elefants did not like walking sideways on slopes more than a few degrees, so stones replaced in the road on the hill would normally be moved downhill or even uphill, rather than to the sides.

    I nodded my head, certain I''d figured it out.  The low stone piles along the side of the steeper downslope had likely been created by crews of humans without elefants, at some point when there was a lack of road elefants or a large project somewhere that needed the road elefants for an extended time.

    Red oak acorns were not a favorite of my swine due to the high tannin content, but they would eat them readily enough.  There were about twenty red oaks close together here and several more nearby, farther from the camp.  I could see a fairly substantial crop of acorns still in the trees.  If I could manage it, the red oaks should also be marked for preservation since there were plenty of other hardwoods to cut, and these were on the downslope, where it wasn''t likely we would be trying to build any buildings.

    Several minutes later, I heard the sounds of labor starting.  Shovels and dirt.  I heard some complaints from people throwing dirt on one another and chuckled to myself.  I had asked if I needed to teach people how to use shovels too, and Doctor Sven had just stared at me like I was making fun of him.  I''d dropped it, not really confident in my own belief that they would need teaching.  A shovel really wasn''t that hard to figure out.

    At the same time, I''d had a taste of how little city folk know about manual labor.  Anu and the others had learned quickly enough, but they just didn''t have any exposure to how to use manual labor tools.

    It didn''t take long before I heard someone speaking loudly.  The sound of digging stopped.  There were explanations that right-handers and left-handers should not work in mixed groups.  Everyone should watch where they were throwing dirt, and not throw it on other people, or into holes others had already dug.  The sounds of digging resumed, much more regularly, and with far fewer curses.

    The swine had mostly filled up, and I needed to get back to camp, but I needed to water them.  I blew my whistle, pointed at the river, and said ''water''.

    The swine all looked at me for a moment before turning downhill and walking down to the river.  None of them seemed irritated at being given a commend requiring them to move, so they had clearly found enough to take the edge off their hunger.

    I watched them wander down to the river, drink in the shallows, and then start to wallow and roll in the water and mud.  I left them alone for about three minutes, until I saw they had all had a good drink and wallow, specifically watching Hoss and Bigboy to make sure they drank strongly.

    Whistling again, I called the swine up the hill to me, and gave them each an acorn I''d picked up off the ground as a treat.  I started walking towards the carriage, the only inconvenience being Speedy''s playfulness now that she''d gotten some food into herself.  She was fascinated by the extra two legs I was using, constantly bumping my crutches as I walked.  I didn''t discipline her, because she wasn''t bumping the crutches hard enough to unbalance me, just touching them as they hit the ground, and then hopping away when I lifted them again.

    "You are a little troublemaker, aren''t you?" I said in a playful voice as she leapt away, in front of me after nose-bumping my crutches again.

    Since I was looking at her while speaking, Speedy tilted her head slightly in obvious confusion, parsing the sounds I''d made for commands.

    "Yes you." I said in her direction as I swung my crutched forward again and planted them.

    Speedy just looked at me, clearly puzzled.  When the crutches moved again, she shook her head and hopped forward, tapping the crutches again with her snout as they hit the ground.  The game continued all the way to the carriage, much to my amusement.

    The guards in the wagon park also got a good chuckle watching Speedy''s antics.  "How big will they get, Allen?" Gloria asked.  Veta showed some interest too.  The two guards and I had finally traded names that morning.

    "Hmm, the two biggest ones are male, fully grown.  Boars of this breed can get bigger, but usually not much bigger.  The biggest male I''ve seen that we didn''t cull early was about half again their size, and he didn''t grow fast to start, he just hadn''t stopped growing."  I paused.  "These two mass almost twice as much as a big man.  The biggest four of the remaining nine are full grown females." I pointed out the four biggest sows.  "Sows with genetics we want can occasionally get bigger, but not by a whole lot.  If they grow too fast, we cull them unless they are exceptionally clever or tractable.  We''ve never kept a sow even close to the size of a normal adult male like Hoss or Bigboy there."

    The two boars snorted and turned, looking up at me as I spoke their names.  After about three seconds of me not giving commands, they started snuffling around and eating grass.  They would start rooting soon.  "I''d love to stop and talk, but I need to get them under the carriage before they start rooting too much.  I''d rather not be responsible for any broken ankles."

    "Do they make good pets?"  Veta asked as I walked away.

    "Sure, the sows do.  Not so much the boars unless you can keep them outdoors after they get to about six months old.  My family sells some every year to people that keep them indoors like house dogs.  Sometimes they are sold as long-term pets.  Most people buy them to convert kitchen and table scraps into meat.  I can talk to you about them later if you like, and show you how leash-obedient they can be."  I shrugged.  "For now, I have to go teach some people how to use tools."

    Gloria and Veta watched as I walked away, chuckling and talking to each other as Speedy kept playing with the crutches.

    I wonder if we could make more sales of swine as novelty pets if we had Abe and Molly take well-trained little ones like Speedy on walks in town when Ma and Pa went for supplies.  I made a mental note to pass that idea on to the family.

    I settled the swine under the carriage without difficulty.  Even though my swine could handle heat better than larger farm pigs, they still preferred to nap in the shade in the middle of the day.  The underside of the carriage was a place they wanted to be.

    **

    Training with axes, adzes, and wedges went well.  Almost everyone picked up the basics of use, safety, and maintenance quickly.  It wasn''t organic chemistry, and even the slower people didn''t need many things explained twice.  Learning to use the tools efficiently was a different story.  I was satisfied with safety first.  Efficiency would handle itself in time.

    By the time I had taught everyone sent to me how to use woodcutting tools safely, our lunchtime beans and rice were ready.  I needed to talk to the officers about marking the trees that could provide forage.  I also wanted to talk about what Rikard had done the day before, in town, but that would have to wait.

    Doctor Sven knew the officers better than I did, so consulting him first made sense.  I didn''t want to sound like a complainer, and might be able to help me figure out a safe way to make sure that Rikard and I crossed paths as little as possible.

    I got to the front of the line to get my bowl of rice and beans, and realized there was a problem.  I had two crutches.  I had two hands.  The wooden bowl was not small enough to grip in my teeth, though I considered it.

    The cook stared at me briefly, with my bowl in his hands, and chuckled.  "Can someone help this fellow carry his bowl?"

    A few feet behind me, I heard a familiar voice laugh.  "I will.  Step aside for a bit, Allen.  I''ll get both of our bowls when it''s my turn in line."  Anu''s voice.  I stepped aside, and a couple minutes later, I was crutching along beside Anu, going towards the officer''s tent.

    She looked a bit uncomfortable.  "I don''t have much time to eat, Allen.  The mahouts are teaching us to control how trees fall with ropes, and how to judge the best way to make a tree fall so the elefants can drag them back to camp.  I''m expected back soon."

    "Understood, Anu, I need to talk to the officers about something though.  We need to protect the trees that can provide forage through the fall.  If there''s a line, I''ll just sit somewhere and eat beforehand."

    There was a line, so Anu and I sat on the ground near the end of the line and ate.

    "You know" Anu started, "The mahouts say that the elefants will get upset and intentionally work slower if the trees fall wrong on the terrain."  She paused.  "That just doesn''t sound like it''s possible."

    I sighed inwardly at that, before answering.  "Hard to believe, isn''t it?"  I paused for a moment and let a little wave of jealousy for the mahouts pass through me.  "I''ve worked with Teak before, as community service.  Not directly giving her commands, but I''ve worked around her and interacted with her.  There were times when I thought she was smarter than some people I know.  She did forestry labor for decades before she retired.  It wouldn''t surprise me in the least if she gets a bit upset when things aren''t done the way she expected them to be done."

    Anu was silent, steadily scooping her rice and beans into her mouth with the folded piece of corn husk she was using as a spoon.  The militia equipment didn''t include spoons.  I''d eaten with my fingers the night before, but I had been too hungry to really be concerned about it.

    I looked at the folded piece of corn husk in my own hand and realized that I should probably carve myself a spoon, or I''d be eating with my fingers soon.  The corn husks probably came from the animal fodder wagons, and weren''t very durable, nor were they sanitary for multiple uses.

    After a couple seconds of silence, Anu spoke again.  "The elefants look almost eager to work.  They eat all the time, but as they are chewing, we can see they are staring at while we set up the ropes and chop the trees."

    I smiled to myself.  "I bet they miss it.  They did it for so long.  Draft horses seem to enjoy working hard, I bet elefants do too."  I frowned.  "I hope the mahouts are careful.  Teak and the other two are retired, they might hurt themselves."

    Nodding at me, Anu smiled.  "Someone asked that already.  The mahouts weren''t worried.  They said the elefants would only pull the trees, not lift them.  They say that a full six-wheeled wagon with water and a load of sand and stone is harder to pull than most of the trees we have around here, provided that the stump end of the tree is tapered."

    That made sense to me.  We ate in silence for a few more seconds.

    "Are they feeding you enough?"  I asked.

    She nodded, hesitantly.  "I''ll lose mass, but I have mass to lose.  Being hungry is something I''m used to because of how I train.  I can lose twenty kilos and be fine.  Thirty would put me at competition mass, but without the right diet, some of what I lose will be muscle."  She poked at her food briefly, and then started eating again.

    After a moment she continued speaking.  "How about that leg of yours?  You''re walking on it so it can''t be that bad, but how bad is it?"

    I poked absent-mindedly at my bowl of rice and beans.  "It''s just a bad bruise, at least that''s what the doctor thinks.  Tomorrow we''ll try soaking it in hot water.  If there''s no worsening, I''ll be soaking it a lot more.  I should be off crutches in a few days at most, I hope."

    When we both finished, Anu stood and took my bowl before offering me a hand up.

    I accepted and she pulled me to my feet with an ease that amazed me again, despite my memories of what I''d seen her do the night before.

    "I''ll take your bowl back to the cooks, Allen."

    "Thanks, Anu, I appreciate that."  Leaning onto my right crutch, I plucked the piece of corn husk out of her fingers.  "No need to find a place to throw that away, the swine will enjoy it."

    We waved a brief goodbye as Anu walked back to the cooking area, and I got in line behind a half a dozen people waiting to speak with Lieutenant Davis and Doctor Sven, who were sitting at a small wooden table, listening to each person who approached.

    All of the people in front of me were middle-aged or older.  Some of them were asking for labor to help them set up their facilities.  Others poked the drawing and indicating that they would rather have their facilities in a different place.  Two of them, stone carvers, were upset because they were being put in the same facility, and they didn''t want the other to see their trade secrets.  They didn''t sound cross with one another, they just didn''t want to be in the same facility.  Lieutenant Davis handled most of the discussions, but on two occasions, Doctor Sven spoke when there was a sanitation or water supply issue involved.  A tanner managed to get the planned position of his facility moved south by about half a kilometer.  Nobody else was having any luck getting plans altered.

    Doctor Sven looked up at us as I approached, and frowned slightly.  "Allen, I''ll be done here in a few minutes, and will be able to change your poultice then."

    "It''s not about that, sir.  I came about something else."

    Doctor Sven gave me a sharp look.  "About what happened in town before we left?"

    "No, sir.  I don''t think that would be good to discuss in the open."

    Doctor Sven relaxed.  Lieutenant Davis looked at Doctor Sven and then back at me, nodding.  "Spit it out then.  People behind you need our time too."

    "Yes, sir.  A lot of people in camp don''t know what trees will produce edible forage.  I think we need to mark those trees so they won''t get cut or damaged unless absolutely necessary.  There are plenty of non-forage trees for firewood and building."

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Lieutenant Davis looked up at me for a second, thinking, and then nodded.  "Good idea.  Get with Quartermaster Brown and handle it.  I''m sure he''ll see it as a good idea, but if he doesn''t agree, don''t argue, just come back to me and tell me."  He paused.  "Next time you have a food or materials related question, go to Quartermaster Brown before me.  You''d probably already be in the forest marking trees if you''d gone to him first."

    "Yes, sir."  I left and hobbled my way over to the wagon park, following the occasional sounds of the quartermaster''s voice.  As I got closer, I just followed the people running towards the wagon park carrying papers, and tried to mostly stay out of the way of people with papers, bags, and boxes that were coming the other way.

    I got into another line.  This line was moving quickly.  The quartermaster was seated inside a wagon that had a desk built into it.  People were walking up and handing him papers.  He would look at the papers, mark them, and then call a receipt number before starting to call the names of people, names of items, and quantities.  Every now and then he would consult a chart on the wall next to his desk.  Once, I saw him get up and get an item himself, from behind his desk.  After he stopped yelling out an order of materials, he would grab a sheet of paper from a stack and begin writing at a mad pace.  Shortly after that, he would hand what he''d written to the person in front of him.

    There were about two dozen wagons parked next to the road, forming one entire side of the wagon park, facing the road.  As each person received their paper from the quartermaster in exchange for the paper they handed him, they would go from wagon to wagon, being handed items.  Each time they were handed an item, the person in the wagon wrote on the paper, and the person picking up items wrote on the paper as well.  It was a fairly smooth operation, it seemed.  Every now and then someone would yell for a correction or a check on a receipt number and the quartermaster would dig through his pile, check a paper, and call out items again.

    When it was my turn, Quartermaster Brown looked at me.  "Requisition?"

    "I..."  I paused.  "I don''t have one.  I''d like to mark nearby trees that can provide edible forage, so we don''t cut them down before we can get a harvest from them, sir."

    Quartermaster Brown stared at me for about three seconds.  "You can identify the trees accurately?"

    I nodded.  "Yes sir.  I know my trees."

    "Done.  He looked down, probably at my leg since the pants leg was rolled up to help the bandage breathe a bit.  You''re the boy with the pigs, right?"

    Swine.  I thought, but didn''t say.

    I did say, "Yes, sir."

    "You can move around in the woods with that leg of yours?"

    "Yes sir, not quickly, but I could mark nearby trees."

    He picked up a piece of paper, and started yelling as he wrote on it.  "Receipt two-twenty-eight.  Karl, light hemp twine, small bale.  Zana, red ribbon, small spool."  He looked down at me.  "You got a knife, son?"

    "Yes, sir." I replied, half-mesmerized by how fast he was writing, his pencil scribbling at a furious pace.

    With a flourish, he finished writing and handed me the page.  "Here you go then.  After you collect the ribbon and twine, go find all three mahouts and tell them you will be marking trees for them to avoid cutting.  Show them how you plan to mark the trees and ask them to make sure that all the loggers know the markings.  Show them this receipt, it has your orders on it too.  When you''re done marking what you can today, bring the leftover twine and ribbon back."

    "Yes, sir."  I looked down at the sheet I saw a receipt number, the list of materials, and the names of the mahouts.  Below that were instructions for me to mark trees that could provide edibles for humans, and advisements to the mahouts that trees marked by me were not to be cut.  If possible, said trees were to also be protected from damage by other falling trees.

    The quartermaster looked up from furiously scribbling on another sheet of paper.  "Don''t just stand there, son, move!"  He paused.  "As fast as you can on the crutches anyway."  Looking down he continued to write as I walked down the line of wagons to collect the twine and ribbon.  Behind me, I heard him to tell the next person to wait a moment for him to finish duplicating my request.

    From there, I crutched to my carriage.  Doctor Sven wasn''t there, so I continued towards the officer''s tent.  Doctor Sven saw me coming as I approached and tapped Lieutenant Davis on the arm.  They spoke briefly, quietly, and then the doctor stood, picking up his first aid kit from a stool next to him and walking quickly to me.  "Let''s make this quick.  The captain wants to have an all officer''s meeting soon.  Lieutenant Baker is in consultation with him now."

    Doctor Sven poked and prodded my leg again, found nothing worrisome, and the poultice was replaced.  There wasn''t any small talk this time.  He worked quickly, and then packed up his bag told me to make sure to be at my carriage at dark for another changing, and then walked back to the officer''s tent.

    I considered letting the swine out and having them follow me around, but decided against it; they had already rooted out the grass under the carriage and seemed content to lay there.  I''d move a little faster without Speedy playing with my crutches anyway.

    The mahouts gave me no problems.  Donal knew me, and the other two, Keef and Nana, were nice enough.  They immediately understood and agreed with preserving the trees that could help feed us.  There were apparently similar policies in place in New Ecuador, where all three of them had come from, to preserve immature and fruit-bearing trees.  I showed them the twine and red ribbon, and gave them each a sample of both so they could show it to the loggers.

    Then I started a circuit of the camp, concentrating on the areas I could remember from the diagram of the planned facilities that had been in front of Lieutenant Davis.  There were persimmons in a few places alongside the road, with very immature fruit.  The locusts had done a good bit of damage to their leaves, but the fruits seemed mostly untouched.  Almost nothing would eat a hard green persimmon.

    In the nearby forest, I found a lot of oaks, mostly red and white.  There were some walnut trees, even a couple pecan trees.  I also found what looked to be an ancient pear orchard, but I only saw a couple trees with more than a handful of immature pears.  The trees were ancient and nearly dead, shaded out by much taller and leafier trees that had grown around them.  I marked the pear trees that were actually bearing fruit.

    I even found about a hundred maple trees in a stand that had clearly been planted intentionally.  Four straight rows of about twenty-five trees.  There had once been around two hundred, it looked like, but many were missing.  The old maples that remained were shading out almost everything trying to grow under them.

    After seeing how many trees were missing from the maple stand, I realized that there weren''t many downed trees in the forest.  The nearby farms were obviously harvesting deadfall in this area, much as my family did in the unclaimed land we bordered on.  The nearest farm I could remember seeing evidence of was at least three kilometers south though.  After a few seconds thinking about it, I decided that the nearby farm was likely making charcoal, lye, or perhaps they had a small lumber mill if there was a river tributary that they could harness for water power.

    I turned my attention back to the maples.  Maples were uncommon this far south, and Granpa had mentioned once that he''d looked into it, and the two fairly small ones we had near the farm were not worth tapping for the little bit of syrup we''d get from them.  Since my family had never done it, I didn''t know how to tap them for sap to make syrup, but someone in camp might.

    After about two hours, I''d carefully crutched my way through the area I knew would be under development for the camp.  I headed back to get my sounder, so I could take them out again to feed them.  I had also found a clearing with a lot of large, burnt stumps.  The clearing had heavy blackberry growths, but they had been picked through fairly thoroughly by animals.  There were a lot of unripe berries though, so if we got a human presence into the clearing and chased off the wildlife, we would get a decent harvest of blackberries in the next few weeks.

    As I crutched back into camp towards the wagon park, I noticed a dozen or so very dirty men and women tending some tired-looking horses. They all had bows.  It was almost certain they were scouts.  If I remembered right, there were supposed to be about twenty scouts, so this would be a bit more than half of them.  I needed to talk to Riko in any case.  I''d had an idea, and wanted his input.

    I approached the scouts and asked if Riko was in camp.  They said he was, but had gone to the officer''s meeting with Lieutenant Baker.  They were busy tending to animals that needed a lot of tending, so I didn''t pester them with questions.  I did let them know that they might want to bring their own spoons to dinner, if they had them.

    That got a couple chuckles, and a couple genuine thanks.  Eating with improvised silverware was annoying.  At the very least, they could probably carve something out of a branch fairly quickly.

    Based on how many oaks and nut trees I was finding, I was fairly sure I would run out of ribbon before dark.  If I did, I would stop and carve a couple spoons when I found a spot for the swine to settle in for a good feed.

    I really needed to talk to Riko, but I couldn''t just wait around for him to come out of the officer''s meeting.  At the same time, there was absolutely no way I was going to barge in on them to talk to Riko about something personal.  The officer''s tent had guards like the wagon park did, so I wouldn''t even be allowed to try - even if I were foolish enough to want to.  I did check if the guards knew how long the meeting would last, and they said no.

    Since I didn''t know when Riko would be available, I ended up taking my swine out without seeing him.  I wasn''t far from the clearing I''d found when I finally ran out of ribbon, so I returned to it and let the swine start to root.  I did actively keep them away from the blackberries.  They could survive just fine on a grass and turf diet, it just took more time eating to keep them at a healthy weight.  I walked around the edge of the clearing, rubbing my hands on trees and blackberry leaves to be sure to put a strong human scent in the area, which would at least discourage the deer.  I''d also point hunters in this direction.  The deer sign was heavy, and there was turkey sign as well.  A couple kills in the area, and the scent of multiple humans and animal blood would have the deer moving away.

    After settling in the swine to feed and marking the clearing perimeter with my scent, I broke off a few branches and returned to the center of the clearing, found a rock to sit on, and started whittling spoons.  It got me off my feet, was somewhat relaxing, and simple enough that I could keep an eye on the swine while I also made plans.

    The clearing would be where I''d feed the swine when I wasn''t actively foraging.  If I was in a hurry to get them fed, I''d lead the swine to acorns instead, but humans could eat acorns too.  Swine could survive fine on grazing and rooting in grass.  Humans typically didn''t eat acorns, but if they were prepared right to remove tannins, they could be made into a decent flour substitute.  Most of the other farm folk doubtlessly knew how to prepare acorns too, even if it wasn''t a favorite food of most people.  The tanner would even be able to use the tannin from the water in the leather treatment process once his shop was set up to process the hides of game animals that were hunted.

    All in all, I felt pretty good about being able to forage well in the nearby forest.  The problem was that there were so many people.  We were up to at least three hundred now, and from what the doctor had over the last two days, there would be almost that many more before this road encampment was completed.  Six hundred people was far too many to support from forest mast without a vast area to forage in, and we only had this side of the river to forage in with the bridge dismantled.  Our required travel distance for foraging would be absurd for a single staging point.  We would need to set up storage waypoints for forage, or even multiple camps.  I hoped someone else had brought this up, but that would be something to mention to Riko or Doctor Sven, to see if they knew if it had been brought up.  If not, I''d take it to Quartermaster Brown.

    When I noticed the shadows were growing long and the light in the clearing was starting to grey a bit, I called the swine together and started crutching back to the road.  I had made a half dozen spoons while my swine foraged, so even when idle, I''d been doing something useful.  I would have preferred to have been gathering forage myself, but with my leg being what it was, I didn''t want to do that until the doctor was no longer concerned about it.

    I escorted my swine under the carriage and made sure they were settling in before going to see if I could find Anu or Riko, or both of them.  I found Anu first, and gave her a spoon, which she greatly appreciated.  Anu carried my bowl of beans and rice and we gathered with Kelvin, Sara, and Ely.  They had all been training with the mahouts, and had successfully felled a few trees.  There had been quite a few incidents with hornets and wasps that left everyone on the lumbering team a bit itchy and sore, and they all had pretty ugly looking blisters on their hands.

    When Kelvin and Ely complained about their hands, I told them they would form callus fairly quickly and their hands would no longer hurt.  Anu and Sara nodded knowingly, but the two men looked at me like I was crazy.  I let them see my hands up close.  Sara leaned in to look, and nodded, explaining that her hands were soft right now because she had been mostly been milking cows and tending chickens for the last couple years - work that didn''t create heavy callus.  Anu, said she got calluses from her exercises, but it had been the off season for several months.  At the same time, her callouses had never been anything like mine, and she was highly unhappy with the idea of developing them that thickly.  Kelvin and Ely, both city-dwellers without much experience working with their hands, were surprised that human skin could build up such a heavy protective layer, and wanted to know if they could make it build up faster.  I told them to talk to the quartermaster and see if they had brought enough salt to make supersaturated saltwater.  It would burn blisters like mad, but it would dramatically increase the speed of callus formation.

    Several nearby folks had been listening in after they overheard us talking, and a general chat developed between the people familiar with manual labor, and those not, explaining about how to encourage or prevent callus.  Once that conversation got started around the cook fires, it got a life of its own, and our group didn''t have to contribute any longer, though I got poked a couple times and asked to show my calluses.  I didn''t really mind - I could see a few others showing people their hands, almost certainly doing the same thing.  It was weird, but it seemed to relax some people with pretty serious blisters, helping them realize they would eventually not be in so much pain.

    They will curse me when they put those blistered hands in salt water though, if the quartermaster has enough to spare, I thought with some amusement.

    After the five of us had finished eating, the others left to see if they could get salt from the quartermaster.  Anu took my bowl again, and all four of them thanked me for the spoons.  I nodded and told them to let me know if they broke theirs, and I could make them another, or maybe teach them how to make one of their own, if they had a good glass knife.

    It felt decidedly weird to be talking so freely with people I didn''t really know.  I didn''t really mind, but it just felt odd.  The others didn''t seem bothered by it at all.  For a couple minutes I thought about it, but then realized that I didn''t really care that if felt odd to talk to others like that.

    I shrugged and got myself to my feet and crutched around, looking for the scouts.  I found them, all together, including Riko.

    As I approached, Riko spotted me and called out.  "I heard that you saved us from eating with our fingers or having to walk back and forth to the horse lines for spoons, Allen, thank you."  He chuckled and looked around at the other scouts.  "Allen here plans to be my son-by-marriage if things stay sunny-side-up."

    Nodding, I said "No problem, glad I could help.  After you eat though, I''d like to talk to you about something private, Mr. Gonzalez, if you would."

    Riko looked up at me with a bit of an odd expression, but didn''t say anything.  I was fairly certain it wasn''t because I''d called him Mr. Gonzalez.  He probably wouldn''t want me to call him Riko in front of the other scouts since he was a sergeant.

    Sergeant Gonzalez.  I wanted to slap myself in the head, but didn''t.  That would just make it worse.

    I shrugged.  "Not now, sergeant.  My carriage is in the wagon park, and I have to go meet Doctor Sven to put another poultice on this leg.  If the guards at the wagon park won''t let you in..."

    "They will let me into the park, Allen.  I''ll come talk to you later.  Go get Doctor Sven to look at that leg again."  He paused.  "I want to hear your story about the snake and I bet these ladies and gentlemen would as well.  What we did hear through the grapevine sounded like a real heart spike moment."

    "Definitely wasn''t anything I could sleep through, that''s for certain.  I can tell you about it later if you like.  Doctor Sven might already be looking for me, and I''d rather not keep him waiting." I managed to say all of that without sounding too foolish, I was fairly confident.

    There were chuckles from the gathered scouts, and Riko waved me away "Go. Don''t waste time here.  There will be plenty of time for stories later."

    I went to my carriage, lit the carriage lantern, and started cleaning and oiling swine harnesses.  Doctor Sven arrived at my carriage a few minutes later, and I put the harness aside.  After a lot of poking and prodding that was still very painful, but not terrible, a new poultice was put on my leg.  We made an arrangement for a short hot soak in the morning, and a new poultice.

    I resumed servicing the harnesses.  A few minutes later, Riko showed up.  "What did you need to speak to me about, Allen?"  He seemed a little wary for some reason.

    I smiled at him.  "Well, Riko, I know that you and my Granpa have been discussing land in this area as a place for Marza and me to settle at first, since it was undeveloped and currently unclaimed.  I''ve been scouting the woods today, marking trees we can get forage from, so they won''t get cut down for lumber or firewood.  While doing that, I''ve been looking at the lay of the land and I really like the west side of the road."

    Riko nodded.  "This area is one of the better spots.  Good farmland.  Close to water, with no real chance of flooding due to the embankment.  It''s pretty far from anything though.  You won''t have much work for your swine other than your own farm.  Shipping crops out will be a bit more expensive too.  The river''s not navigable."

    Nodding in agreement, I couldn''t help but grin.  I started speaking softly, under my breath, so that not even the nearby guards could hear.  "Remember the part of the plan where Marza and I would probably need to spend a couple years clearing lumber off the land before reselling the land to someone else for a modest profit?"

    "Yes, of course."  Riko answered, also speaking quietly.  Then he stiffened, and looked around.  A moment later, he started to laugh.  Then he whispered back to me.  "I see.  I''m guessing that you want to have us claim this land for you, since the militia''s going to do a whole lot of woodcutting for you?"

    "That''d be nice, sir.  I was hoping you might be able to send a post to my Granpa and make the land claim before anyone else gets any ideas.  If you know anyone else who might be looking for a place, the east side of the road isn''t bad either."  I knew the Gonzalez farm would probably be shedding at least two more married couples over the next couple years.  Marza might end up having family close after all, and having four people on two farms was a lot more productive than having two on one farm.  Infrastructure building was always very labor intensive, and would consume an absurd amount of available work time on a new farm with no infrastructure.  There was no telling what the neighbors here might be like, other than the fact that they did a good job keeping the forest free of deadfalls.

    Riko slapped me on the back, hard enough that I almost stumbled, startling me out of my daydreaming.  When I almost fell over, he said "Oh, sorry, Allen." and gripped my shoulder, helping me regain my balance.  "Good call on this though.  I''ll get the letter to my wife and your granpa in the mail box tonight."

 Chapter 16

    Almost a hundred new people arrived the next day.  About half of them had no experience at all with manual labor.  After a breakfast of bread with strawberry preserves that tasted old but not off, I trained the new, inexperienced people on how to safely and effectively use and take care of wood cutting tools.

    Early that morning, Doctor Sven had me soak my leg in hot water for fifteen minutes before replacing the poultice yet again and warning me to let him know if there was any pain or noticeable increased swelling.  He also gave me a set of crutches that were tall enough for me, which I greatly appreciated.

    When I returned the old crutches and the leftover twine to the quartermaster after giving safety and use classes, I mentioned to him while I did so that the axes were fairly dull and we''d do more work if they were sharper.  He was already aware of that, through complaints from experienced woodcutters and the carpenters, and had the stone carvers working to sharpen the cutting tools.

    I was directed by Quartermaster Brown, with one of his written orders, to make myself useful assisting the stonecutters in preparing their area so they could concentrate on sharpening tools.  The elefants were moving logs and the draft horse and oxen teams were being used to clear brush and move stones to start building foundations for the permanent camp.  At the direction of the stonecutters, I used Hoss and Bigboy to drag several large stones from the river to their work area.  I would have spent more time with them moving more stones, but some of the stones they wanted moved were simply far too large for the boars to move, so they put in requests for draft animal time.  The two men were amusing in their curiosity about each other.  They both watched each other, while trying to hide how they, themselves, worked.

    At lunch, I ate again with Anu, Sara, Kelvin and Ely.  About halfway through another bowl of rice and beans I noticed Riko walking nearby, looking directly at me.  When he saw me look back at him, he looked away quickly.

    My first thought was What was that all about?

    I almost slapped myself on the head when I realized what Riko might be thinking.  I was sitting on a log next to Anu, and fairly close.  I needed to knock that thought right out of Riko''s head.  Anu was married, she seemed like a good person, and she had potentially saved me from a worse trampling from my swine than a single hoof on the calf.  She was smart and willing to learn.  There wasn''t any sexual attraction from my end, and I was fairly sure not from hers either.  She was a lot older than me too, at least twenty-three.

    For the rest of the meal, I wasn''t very talkative as I tried to figure out the best way to deal with Riko without potentially offending Anu.  After we finished eating, I tapped Anu on the elbow.  "Mind going and talking to the scouts with me?  They wanted to hear about the snake.  You were there too, and saw things from a different perspective than me."

    She looked at me for a couple seconds.  "Sure.  But we have to do it fast, I''m expected back soon.  The mahouts are rotating us through different jobs so nobody completely ruins their hands.  I don''t want anyone to think I''m shirking when comes to taking my turn with an axe."

    I reassured her by saying "I''m sure it will only be a couple minutes.  I need to get a new task from the quartermaster too, and I certainly don''t want to be seen as a slacker myself, even if people might give me some consideration for the leg."

    She agreed and we walked over to the group of scouts eating lunch.  There were only eight present, including Riko.  I assumed the rest were probably on patrol or asleep.  There were two present who I didn''t recognize as all.  Some of the new people were apparently scouts, or maybe they showed up after I left town, but before the scouts left in advance of the rest of us.

    "Sergeant Gonzalez, you mentioned yesterday that you and the scouts wanted a retelling about what happened with the rattlesnake?  Anu here was there with me and saw it all.  She''ll kick me if the tale starts to get too tall."

    The scouts all either smiled or chuckled, even Riko.

    "I''ll what?" Anu looked at me in confusion.

    I couldn''t help but laugh.  "It''s your job to tell these ladies and gentlemen when I start exaggerating too much.  I''d really rather you not kick me in the bad leg though."

    Anu grinned.  "Sure.  I can do that.  Let me move to your other side.  I suspect I''ll be doing a lot of kicking."

    The scouts were in a good mood, there was more low laughter and smiling.

    Three or four minutes later, Anu had only kicked me, gently, three times - each time getting a chuckle from the scouts.  I tried to give her a bigger role in rescuing me, but she hadn''t accepted it.

    They all burst into laughter when I told them that one of my swine had goosed me from behind when I was almost clear of the snake.  When Anu didn''t kick me after that, to indicate I was exaggerating, they got thoughtful.

    A little later, when I explained how Anu had waded into the sounder of swine and dragged me out, she got some respectful glances.  There was a lot of nodding after she said that the next time anything like that happened, she would try to remember to try to stop the animals with a whoah command.  It didn''t surprise anyone that I''d forgotten to try to do that after barely escaping a snakebite to the face.

    Several of the scouts asked other questions as they were eating and listening, but none of us had time to dawdle, so the storytelling was short.

    Riko had been watching Anu more than me throughout the storytelling, and when we were done, he shook her hand.  "Thank you for what you did.  That was good thinking for someone in an unfamiliar situation.  My grandaughter will be thankful to you for keeping her future husband from being crippled by his own swine."  He turned his head to me, with a large, toothy grin.  "I''m sure Marza will find a way to tease him about it too."

    Anu reached up to tousle my hair, but I dodged.  "Allen''s a good fellow.  Seems to have his head on right.  I''m definitely learning a lot from him, and so are others.  He''s been more willing than most to help those of us that don''t have the skills that we need here.  Your grandaughter is a lucky woman."  She paused a moment and looked at Riko before continuing.  "If I were a few years younger and unmarried, I might have even tried to do a little chasing myself."  She lightly kicked my leg again.  "I would have insisted that he gain at least twenty kilos though.  It would have been quite a disappointment to break him after I caught him."

    The scouts loved that, even Riko.  Two of the scouts were beating their chests with their fists, trying to dislodge rice or beans that had gone down the wrong pipe.  I felt my face get hot and elbowed Anu in the ribs.  She ignored me and laughed.

    This wasn''t supposed to devolve into making fun of Allen, I thought to myself, a little darkly.

    After a cough to clear my throat, I shook my head and spoke to Riko.  "If you''re sending a letter to Marza telling her about the snake incident, I''ll have to do the same.  Otherwise there''s no telling what she''ll think happened."

    "That would probably be for the best anyway."  Riko nodded at me with a grin.

    Riko held out his hand to Anu.  "Thanks again for helping him, Anu.  You need a favor, ask me.  Please, however, remember that I''m a sergeant first right now, so there are some things I can''t or won''t do."

    Anu grasped his hand and they shook.  "Thank you, sergeant, but it''s not necessary.  Making a friend was enough of a reward."

    As the three of us said our goodbyes and walked in different directions, I hoped that I''d settled that issue with Riko.  Finding Doctor Sven wasn''t hard.  He was checking out the marked foundations of the building that would become his medical facility.  We walked back to my carriage and he replaced the poultice again.  He had to rewrap the pressure bandage as well, as the swelling was coming down a little bit.  That was a good thing, and indicated that applying more heat tomorrow, for a longer time, would probably be of benefit.

    Doctor Sven wrote me a letter to give to Quartermaster Brown, asking for him to assign me something useful to do that I could do when soaking my leg.

    After he read the doctor''s note, Quartermaster Brown frowned.  "Well, you obviously can''t go out and mark trees when you''re soaking that leg.  I''m not so good at figuring out what needs to be done as opposed to figuring out how to make it happen.  You came to me with an idea once, you have any ideas this time around?"

    I thought about it.  It seemed silly, but...  "I can carve spoons, sir?  A lot of people are eating with corn husks and folded leaves.  It only takes me a couple minutes to make one."

    The quartermaster nodded.  "Show me."

    I pulled my spoon out of my pouch, rubbed the sand off of it, and handed it to him.

    "Hmmm.  A bit crude, but serviceable.  Make me as many as you can.  Bring them to me at the beginning of every day after breakfast.  That''s your job every time you are soaking that leg, or until I tell you differently."  He started scribbling madly, two copies of his orders for me, one for him, the other for me.

    "What else should I do?  Has anyone been complaining about needing anything, sir?"

    "Everyone is complaining about needing something." The quartermaster complained, knuckling his forehead.  Then he perked up.  "You hauled some fairly substantial stones from the river for the stonecutters earlier, I was told.  Can you haul water if we get you some large water skins?"

    "How big are the skins?  My boars won''t pull more than a hundred fifty kilos on a travois.  Water is very dense though, I think it would be bad to try to haul more than a hundred kilos, it might crack the travois poles."

    A couple minutes later, I was heading to the head cook, Mrs. Zeta, with five empty twenty-liter water skins, with orders to bring water from the river to the cooks, so it could be boiled and delivered to the workers. In the field.

    Mrs. Zeta was more than happy with that.  "Thank you.  This will free up two of my people to do other things besides carrying buckets of water on yokes."  She paused a moment.  "How well-behaved are your swine going to be near the cooking fires?"

    "I''ve never gotten them close to open cooking fires before, Ma''am." I responded.  "They should be OK, but maybe it would be a good idea to start a boiling fire a bit closer to the river?"  I smiled at her.  "If you set up a pit for food wastage on the side of the road next to the boiling fire, I can pretty much guarantee the swine won''t be interested in getting close to the cooking forest."

    She tapped her chin thoughtfully.  "I''m not moving my kitchen waste pit.  We''ve already started dumping waste in its planned location.  You''re more than welcome, of course, to take your swine by the pit to eat all they can find that they want, so we won''t have to burn in the pit so often."  More chin tapping.  "By the time we get a kitchen built, there will be draft horses or oxen available to pull the water cart."

    I wasn''t sure how the comment about the draft animals fit into our conversation, but I didn''t say anything.

    Pensively, Mrs. Zeta looked in the direction of the river, towards where two men were trudging uphill, each of them with a carry pole.  Each carry pole having a bucket suspended at either end.  "No offense, but your swine make me nervous around the cooking fires.  I know how food-centric swine are.  Even though yours are clearly better trained than any other swine I''ve seen, I doubt they are much different from the swine I know - though they do look a lot leaner."

    I turned towards her, annoyed, and trying to think of how to say something without being too rude.  The head cook was the very last person I wanted irritated with me, for several reasons.

    Before I could say anything, Mrs. Zeta apologized.  "I''ve seen your swine in harness, and I''ve also been told that they are hands-off.  That lean comment was in bad taste.  Sorry."

    It took me a second, but the pun eventually registered.  It wasn''t that funny, but it was funny enough for me to chuckle a couple times before nodding.  "Bad taste.  Heh.  You are right that they aren''t that different.  We use food to train them, and our swine train very well.  That said, if they are going to misbehave, it''s almost always going to be because of food.  I''d be happier if we kept them away from your cooking fires."

    She raised her voice slightly.  "Pol.  Start a new boiling station twenty paces closer to the river at the road''s edge, downstream side.  Take Filip and Ivan off water hauling, have them wash and report to me."  She turned to me.  "Job''s all yours.  Thanks for helping to free up some hands for me."

    I spent the rest of the day hauling water skins from the river to the boiling station with Hoss and Bigboy.  All of the swine got their fill from the kitchen waste pit.  The extra manpower that the swine and I freed up allowed Mrs. Zeta and her cooks to get dinner out on time, and not burnt in the least.  It was interesting being directly useful to the camp with the swine, but that window would be short, I knew.  We were able to keep up with the water needs of the camp, and then some, but by the end of the day, we still hadn''t brought enough water to serve the camp and fill all of the boiled water storage skins.  The relative efficiency of my swine to draft horses for water hauling was proven when a single team of draft horses was pulled off lumber duty as the sun started to go down.  A single trip of the water wagon provided enough water to allow the boiling station to top off the boiled water storage, and my swine and I were dismissed.

    That night, Doctor Sven was happy with my leg after replacing the poultice.  The pressure bandage had to be tightened a bit, indicating that the swelling was going down.  He gave me willow bark tea to thin my blood a bit and then surprised me by telling me to follow him.

    Confused, because I hadn''t asked to speak to the officers yet about Rikard, and couldn''t remember anything happening that I might be in trouble for, I asked.  "Can I ask what this is about, sir?"

    He didn''t answer my question, just beckoning for me to follow him.  "It''s ten meters to the officer''s tent.  Just follow me.  You will find out when the others do."

    Others? I wanted to ask, but I did as I was told, and crutched along after the doctor into the tent.

    As I entered the tent, I saw a lot of people.  The person who drew my attention first was Rikard, who was apparently just as confused as I was, since he looked at Lieutenant Davis rapidly and then back to me with a scowl.  I did my best to ignore him, and looked for the seat farthest from him.

    Lieutenants Davis and Baker were seated on either side of a man the eight-place rectangular table placed in the middle of the tent.  Rikard and a woman I didn''t know were seated at either end of the table, across from each other.  Doing my best to avoid looking at Rikard, I examined the other two, who I''d never met.

    The man was older.  If I was forced to guess, I would say he was in his fifties, but he was not in good physical condition, and heavily wrinkled.  Long black hair, heavily streaked with grey, was held back with a leather tie behind his neck.  He was very pale, but I didn''t see the blue tracing of veins under the skin to indicate someone who couldn''t darken in the sun.  When he caught me looking at him, he smiled a little and moved his arms.  He had been holding his wrists and forearms together, parallel to one another, and was wearing a long-sleeved shirt.  As his arms moved slightly apart, I saw that his sleeves were cut between wrist and elbow.  Under his shirt, there were heavy leather manacles and several thumb-thick ropes woven into and through the manacles, connecting them together, with other ropes connecting to the manacles and running towards him, and then dropping off the table ledge.

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    After I saw the man''s restraints, my eyes popped back to his, and he smiled again, slowly easing his arms back together.

    "Brad, please don''t tell me you think I didn''t see that."  Lieutenant Davis sighed.

    The older man shrugged, and his eyes never left mine.  "Wasn''t meant for you to see, or not to see, Lieutenant.  The pup here was sizing me up.  Figured I''d help him get a good measure."

    I was shocked, reeling.  His voice reeked of anger and was flaunting that he was restrained.  The man was clearly insane.  My eyes flicked up to his forehead.  There was no prisoner brand there.

    "No.  No brand.  I have more control than that, pup." The man said with a tight smile.

    Lieutenant Davis looked irritated.  "You mean that we put you in a cell at fifteen after you killed two people, and you''ve spent thirty-one years there with no opportunity to fight another person."

    Rikard looked sideways at Brad and scooted his chair a few inches farther away, despite Lieutenant Davis being between them.

    Brad turned his head towards Rikard and smiled, smugly.

    I stared for a second, shocked, trying to figure out what an insane, restrained prisoner was doing in the officer''s tent.  Then I noticed the woman on the other side of Rikard was grinning a little in my direction, clearly amused by my reaction.  "Brad''s quite the character, isn''t he?"  She buffed her fingernails on her shirt before continuing.  "I''m Fobi."  She, at least, didn''t have any restraints.  Brown haired with no visible grey, a light tan, crow''s feet next to her eyes.  A little stout.  Maybe in her thirties.

    I nodded to Fobi and she nodded back.  I sat next to her, in the open seat farthest from Rikard.

    Doctor Sven did not sit at the table, he sat on a stool several feet away, close to the entrance of the tent.  He appeared extraordinarily unpleased to be present.  I did a double-take and saw that Riko and Don, Rikard''s cousin, were both standing next to the tent entrance.

    Captain Marko''s voice came from the back of the tent.  "Well.  Now that we''re all here, let''s get started."  As he spoke, he stood, and moved away from the small table in the back of the tent.

    "As you all know, we''re being forced to mobilize to protect our own meagre food reserves from New Tokyo.  There''s still a chance of resolution if Second Landing agrees to sell grain at a reasonable price to New Tokyo, but from what I''ve been told by my chain of command, this hasn''t happened yet."  He paused.  "It''s been almost a thousand years since we mobilized for conflict.  At best, we''re clueless about how to fight a war."

    Pacing back and forth, Captain Marko started speaking again.  "Historically, on Earth, we know that vast numbers of people were taken from agricultural duties during wartime in preindustrial eras, but we could not see how that would be a sane way of addressing a war that has been caused by a food resource shortage.  The historical record shows that starvation in such wars killed more people than actual fighting."

    Brad snorted.  "Albert''s historical record."

    Captain Marko stared down at him, sharply, before continuing.  "I, Quartermaster Brown, my lieutenants, as well as three other captains, three other quartermasters, six other lieutenants, and our overall commanding officer, Colonel Duffie, have taken occasional classes for years on how to mobilize a militia.  What we have never done is learn how a militia would actually engage in a fight.  Only law enforcement officers are allowed by law to receive militia mobilization training, and it''s been a law for hundreds of years now that law enforcement officers are not to learn military combat tactics until we are called to active status.  The law''s documentation indicates that there was a fear that we might use those military tactics, somehow, during our law enforcement activities."

    I heard the captain''s teeth grit.  "Part of the legal mobilization plan was that when we were mobilized, we would then have access to sealed books and documents with military combat tactics, but when Colonel Duffie went to access them he found..."

    I made the connection in a heartbeat.  "They were gone and Albert wouldn''t reproduce them." I whispered.  Then I realized I had spoken out loud, and slapped a hand over my mouth and closed my eyes, thinking to myself.  Idiot.  I am an unmitigated buffoon.

    As I opened my eyes again, I saw Captain Marko staring at me, his body completely still, hands locked together behind his back.  After locking eyes with me for three or four seconds, the captain started to speak again.  "You are correct, Allen, and you will stay after this meeting and explain how you knew that.  I refuse to believe you guessed."

    Everyone in the room seemed to be staring at me.  I felt like I was about a centimeter tall.

    "All four of you have a history of violence.  To be completely open with you, we''re sitting on the border here, with very few ideas about how we''re going to deal with the New Tokyo militia.  If they have maintained their military tactics documents, we could get swept aside easily."

    Brad started to laugh.  "Oh, this is rich.  I get put in jail for thirty-one years for killing two people, and then you want my help to teach the militia how to kill hundreds or even thousands of people, wholesale?  What''s in it for me?  More jail time?  Do I get my life back?"  He twisted his upper body so he could look at Captain Marko, who was not quite directly behind him.  "Have your lapdogs take me back to my lock-up wagon and come talk to me later with your offer.  I doubt I''m going to accept anything you''re willing to talk about in public."

    Captain Marko sighed.  "You still have family, Brad.  Brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews.  They visit you from time to time, I know, even now."

    "That is not an offer."  Brad said, flatly.

    Turning his back on us and staring up at the ceiling of the tent, Captain Marko continued.  I want you all to try to think about two things tonight, and write down any ideas you have.  First, if you were the New Tokyo militia, how would you attack us across the river, and push us back to repair the bridge for draft transport with as few attacker deaths as possible.  Second, how would you try to defend against an attack crossing the river, again, with as few defender deaths as possible?"  He paused for almost a second.  "I want at least three ideas on attack and defense from each of you.  We''ve already been brainstorming these things, but we want to see if you come up with anything else.  Brad, your guards will have writing materials.  You can call out ideas to them, and they will write them down."

    I was starting to feel ill.  They want me to help figure out the best way to kill people?  The only person I''ve ever wanted to kill is in front of me right now, and I couldn''t even bring myself to kill him when I had the chance to do it twice.

    I cautiously glanced at Rikard and Fobi.  They were both looking uncomfortable, a little ill.  My back was to Doctor Sven, Riko, and Don, but the two lieutenants were watching Brad closely, with no sign of discomfort.

    Brad looked like he was in deep thought, but said nothing.

    Captain Marko spun on his heel, back to face the table.  "On that note, this meeting is over.  This session''s entire purpose was to give you time to get ready to discuss tactics tomorrow morning after breakfast.  Rikard, Fobi, and Allen, if you don''t have anything to write with, you will get paper and pencils from Quartermaster Brown as soon as you leave this tent.  This is no secret.  You can discuss it with others if you like."

    The very idea of talking with my few friends in camp about ways to fight with other people with intent to kill nearly made me spew my dinner.  I took some deep breaths and swallowed my gorge.

    As Rikard and Fobi stood to leave, I heard people moving behind me and the tent flap opening.  Riko was holding the tent flap open and staring outside.  Don was staring white-faced at Brad, ignoring the tent flap.  Someone was puking close to the tent.

    I heard one of the officer''s tent guards taking to Doctor Sven, asking him if he was OK.

    Doctor Sven didn''t answer that I could hear.

    The two lieutenants stood with Brad between them.  He was taking very small steps.  My eyes traced over his bonds.  His legs were in heavy leather manacles bound closely together like the manacles that I had already seen on his arms.  Ropes connected arm manacles to a waist belt and then to the leg manacles.

    I still stood and moved away from the table, giving the lieutenants plenty of room to guide Brad out of the tent.  I didn''t want to be anywhere near the nutcase.

    Captain Marko moved to the table and sat across from me, moving at a measured pace.  "Riko, stay in the tent with us, please.  If anyone other than another officer tries to enter, turn them away for thirty minutes."

    Riko''s voice saying "Yes, sir." helped ground me a bit.  A familiar person, a solid friend of our family and Marza''s granpa.  If there was anyone in this camp that I would want at my back, it was Riko.

    "Allen, you look like a trapped rabbit."  Captain Marko sighed.  "You''re young, but if you''ve had alcohol before and you want a single glass of wine or a shot of whiskey to calm your nerves, I''ll give you that."

    I managed to choke out an answer.  "No, sir.  I''ve had alcohol, but I''d rather not have it now."

    "Take some deep breaths then.  Relax.  I want some answers."

    And the last thing I want to do is give them to you, sir.  I thought to myself, making absolutely certain to keep my mouth sealed shut.

    All of a sudden, I realized that I really didn''t want Riko in the tent with us.  What would he think if he found out that my Ma had been a martial artist?  Would he try to break up the marriage between Marza and me?  Would Marza want to have anything to do with me?

    Could I manage to tell enough half-truths to satisfy Captain Marko but not give away Ma''s history?  I looked at Captain Marko, who was leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, looking at me with curiosity.  He was watching me, but not staring at my eyes.  I strongly doubted they put a man with poor wits in charge of this many people, in charge of defending a roadway.

    If I asked for Riko to leave, it was going to open up a huge trust issue between us.  He knew full well that he was my best ally in camp, and if I pushed him away, it would irritate him at best, infuriate him at worst.  He would demand answers, and I wasn''t sure if it would be worse to give them to him, or refuse to do so.

    I had been planning on pretending to be some sort of fighting prodigy, making sure that all of our side knew Ma''s rules.  That had seemed like a risk, because it might attract Albert''s attention to myself and Ma, but it had seemed like it was a very small risk, since I could conceal it as my own knowledge.  But now?  If Captain Marko and the militia was unaware of what Albert was doing to eliminate martial knowledge from the world, and I told them, and the word became widespread, would Albert hold it against me somehow?

    I did not want to imagine Albert''s reaction to finding every state on Nirvana initiating verbal traditions and brainstorming sessions to try to rebuild martial knowledge so we could properly fight one another in organized warfare.  Everything Albert wanted to happen, put on hold for how many hundreds of years.  Because of me.

    My mind raced in tighter and tighter circles.  I have no idea how much time passed with me sitting there, mentally paralyzed, arms wrapped around myself, having horrible thoughts about the future, but eventually something smacked down in front of me.  A shot glass.

    Captain Marko and both lieutenants were now seated at the table, looking at me, but not staring me in the eye.  Lieutenant Baker was pouring whiskey out of a bottle into four shot glasses.  The rich scent of the whiskey was something I recognized.  I''d had a shot after harvest with the family every year for the last three years.  It smelled very good, and I remembered the relaxed sensation a shot would give me.  I wanted it badly.

    I started reaching towards the full shot glass when Lieutenant Baker said "Go ahead, Allen, drink.  One shot.  At your mass, that should relax you some, but you won''t get drunk."

    With a shock, I realized that the last thing I wanted was to be relaxed, because I would also be careless.  Instead of picking it up, I pushed the shot glass in front of me away.  "No."

    Captain Marko looked at Lieutenant Baker and nodded.

    Even in my mental state I realized that Captain Marko was having Lieutenant Baker talk to me because she was female, and less threatening to me as a male.  Everyone learned that in conflict resolution classes.  I almost smiled when she started talking in a calm voice.  "Something''s obviously got you spooked, Allen.  We see that.  You didn''t even hear Riko talking to you earlier, as far as we could tell."

    I was startled, and turned around.  "Sorry Riko, if I was rude."

    Riko looked at me, clearly concerned.  "I don''t know what''s got you worried, Allen, but I''ve been working with these three for a couple days now.  They aren''t family, but they are competent and fair."

    Lieutenant Baker touched my wrist with a single finger, briefly, which got my attention.  I turned back towards her and she spoke again.  "There''s absolutely no way you could be responsible for what happened to the training documents and records that were lost, but there''s also no way you should have known what happened to them."

    I coughed, and managed to croak out an answer.  "Lucky guess?"

    They laughed at me.  Even Riko.  I really wanted that shot.  My hand twitched towards it.

    "Allen" Captain Marko spoke again, pushing the shot glass back to touch my hand.  "If this is something that will help us defend ourselves, we really need to know about it.  Our families are at risk here.  You have a family to protect, don''t you?  We know, at the very least that you''re planning on marrying Riko''s grandaughter Marza.  We''ve barely been able to get Riko to shut up about how good of a match you two are for each other whenever we talk about family.  Especially after a shot of whiskey."

    Riko grunted behind me, sounding a little irritated.  "No need to give the boy a big head, sir."

    I couldn''t help but start to laugh.  They weren''t going to leave me alone until I told them.  If I didn''t tell them, my life might be ruined by an angry Riko.  If I did tell them, my life might be ruined by an angry Albert.  Arguably, an angry Albert was more frightening, but losing Marza would hurt more.

    I picked up the shot glass, stared at the amber liquid, and then sniffed it.  I took a breath, swallowed the shot, and breathed out slowly, like Granpa taught me to do the first time I''d taken a shot after harvest in the year I turned thirteen.  The warmth in my throat helped me ignore the chill in my veins as I started telling them what they thought they wanted to know.

 Chapter 17

    Captain Marko hadn''t stopped pacing since I explained what Ma had written in her letter, about Albert''s slow game of hiding martial knowledge and extorting martial artists to abandon their lifestyle.  "I am unaware of any sort of activity like this, directed at law enforcement.  Our training includes some training that really could only be called martial arts."  He spun to face the tent entrance.  "Sergeant, have one of the guards get Fobi back in here.  I want her input on this."

    I heard Riko open the tent flap, and speak to one of the guards, and then I heard running.

    Lieutenant Baker rubbed either side of her forehead with her thumbs, at the headache relief pressure points.  "I don''t understand how this isn''t common knowledge.  Albert doesn''t hide anything..."  She paused and winced.  "that we knew of."  She muttered a few curses under her breath, encouraging anatomic activities that Albert certainly wasn''t capable of.

    Nodding, Lieutenant Davis spoke softly.  "We know Albert has been playing a deep game for thousands of years.  Chances are good that he''s treating law enforcement almost the same as martial artists, but not interfering with us as openly, because we''re still needed to keep the peace, especially in the cities"

    Riko coughed behind me.

    Captain Marko looked up, with a pained look on his face.  "Say it for me, sergeant."

    Riko coughed to clear his throat.  "It''s a lot to take in, all at once, but if Lieutenant Davis is correct, you know that we''re probably being watched right now?  If Allen''s ma wasn''t editorializing in her letter, which I strongly doubt, having known her for over twenty years, then every law enforcement officer is almost certainly being monitored directly by Albert."

    My eyes shot wide open, and I stiffened, thinking to myself.  What have I done?

    The lieutenants both stiffened as I did, turning their heads to stare at Riko, behind me.

    Captain Marko just nodded.  "Somewhere on the moon, Albert is probably adjusting his plans as we speak.  If we make this public, it might set his plans for us back hundreds, or even thousands of years."

    "Sir."  I started speaking, and then stopped, realizing I hadn''t asked permission.

    "Go ahead, Allen."  He nodded at me.

    I swallowed, and looked down at my hands.  I was probably saying something obvious but nobody else had said it yet.  "We can''t just hide what Albert did, can we sir?  Not now that we know what he''s doing.  For as long as we''re an agrarian society with limited technology, we''re occasionally going to have periods of famine." I wrapped my arms around my chest.  I felt cold.  "If we don''t actively attempt to maintain a knowledge about how to effectively defend ourselves from other states..."

    I looked up.  The grim looks of the three officers facing me indicated that they agreed, so I continued.  "I had considered something like this already, but I thought that it was only going to be myself, and maybe some of my elder family that I was risking when I was going to tell you about the fighting rules Ma gave me.  I was going to pretend I''d just thought up everything on my own, and shield everyone I could."

    Riko muttered a curse under his breath, behind me.  "This is beginning to look like a loose thread in a knit sweater.  Do we really want to continue tugging at it?"

    Captain Marko leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, staring up at the ceiling of the tent.  "Do we really have a choice, sergeant?  It has always puzzled me and everyone else in leadership roles why Albert actively dissuades any sort of world centralized government.  We could manage it far better than the Romans or Chinese ever did, between the prism tower network, the road system, and inner sea shipping."

    What?  I thought to myself.  How does that even?  Then it hit me, and I whispered.  "Are you saying that Albert is intentionally keeping us from working together too well?

    Captain Marko pushed back his chair and stood, and turned so he wasn''t looking at us.  His voice was bitterly angry when he responded.  "Even Albert needs to test his work every now and then, I suppose."

    **

    Fobi sat at the table next to me, clenching her fists in front of her tightly enough to blanch her hands and speaking in a quavering voice.  "I...  I don''t have anything to add to this discussion, Captain, sorry."

    Looking at Fobi''s clenched fists on the table in front of her, and then at her face, which was strained and pale, Captain Marko spoke gently.  "You took an oath to serve and protect, Fobi."

    She twitched, and looked down.  "I am not breaking that oath, Captain."

    "We''ve already explained what we have been able to piece together, Fobi.  I doubt that you''ve got anything Nirvana-shattering to add to that."  He paused.  "A little confirmation would be useful if you can provide it.  Even though you were taken off patrol duty, you''re still part of the law enforcement system.  Confirmation that you had an experience with Albert similar to what Allen has told us about his ma''s recounting would help us be more certain in our understanding."

    Lifting her head back up into the air, Fobi met his gaze with her own.  "I''ve already given you my answer, sir.  Can I be dismissed?"

    Captain Marko leaned forward without breaking eye contact, and lightly tapped her clenched fists with his right index finger.  "Yes, you have, and no, you are not dismissed."

    Fobi''s clenched fists whipped out from underneath the Captain''s finger and into her lap.

    Sighing as he leaned back in his chair again, Captain Marko turned his right hand palm-up in front of him, indicating that he expected an answer.  "I would prefer your answer in words.  If Albert is monitoring us right now, he already knows we have some confirmation from you."

    Fobi started to stand, without permission.

    Lieutenants Baker and Davis both started to stand, and I heard leather whisper behind me as Riko moved.

    With a quick gesture of his hand to punctuate his statement Captain Marko snapped out "No.  If she wants to leave, let her."  He paused before starting to speak again.  "Fobi, if Albert is monitoring us closely and were willing to do something harsh and immediate, I''m fairly confident it would have happened at some time in the last hour.  I''ve already sent a prism tower message to the Stateman.  Even using fires for light, the message will have arrived by now."

    "If it''s going to arrive at all."  Fobi spoke abruptly, angrily, still half-standing.  "Sir, I have two teenage daughters.  Even if my ex-husband has custody of them, I still get to enjoy their company often enough that I''m not risking a trip to the women''s prison colony.  I will help you brainstorm offensive and defensive tactics and strategies so we can better defend ourselves from New Tokyo, but no more."

    Captain Marko and Fobi stared at one another across the table for at least ten seconds, before he sighed and said.  "Go ahead, mama bear, you''re dismissed."

    Mama bear? I thought to myself, as Fobi walked quickly out of the tent without a word.  I wanted to ask, but didn''t.

    A few seconds after the tent flap fell shut, Riko cleared his throat.  "So, is she just scared because it''s sane to be scared, or is she scared because she had a conversation with Albert after she was taken off of patrol work?"

    After shaking his head briefly and frowning, Captain Marko spoke while looking over my head at Riko beyond me.  "Fobi is, or I should say was, fearless.  I was her lieutenant when she was a street patroller.  I am absolutely certain she knows something that confirms at least part of what Allen has told us, and I''m also certain I won''t get more from her than what I''ve already gotten."  He paused.  "It is public record that she was taken off street patrol because she was unacceptably violent apprehended four drunk men who were trying to rape a young woman.  Fobi had a troublesome record of being barely on the safe side of being too violent with some individuals that resisted arrest, especially in cases involving children or young adults.  If she had stopped when the men gave up, nothing would have happened.  Kicking them between the legs after they were no longer resisting couldn''t be ignored.  One of the men ended up needing surgery to save his life."

    My legs clenched together in an automatic response as my imagination provided details that I would have preferred to not think about.

    Riko''s voice mirrored my thoughts.  "That explains the nickname, I suppose."

    "Indeed."  Captain Marko sighed.  "I literally wanted to kick her myself when that got her taken off street patrol.  As distasteful as it was sometimes to see what she did to get results, the crime rate in my sector had plummeted in the two years she was on street patrol."  He shrugged.  "That raises philosophical questions that really don''t have much importance right now."

    Standing, Captain Marko walked back to the small table at the back of the tent and poured himself a second whiskey, "Allen, I don''t want to say thank you for what you''ve told us, but I will anyway."  He turned back to us, took the shot, and then slapped the glass down on the table.  His face twitched into a lopsided grin.  "I really wish I could have seen Stateman Urda''s face when she read my suggestion that we approach known martial artists and ask for a full list of all the titles and authors of their martial manuals so we can get copies from Albert."  He snorted.  "Even better, we need to ask them for help establishing a law enforcement and militia verbal tradition like some sort of ancient human preindustrial tribe on Earth."

    Lieutenant Baker giggled briefly, and Lieutenant Davis snorted, but neither said anything.

    Captain Marko shook his head, and walked around the table carrying the mostly-full whiskey bottle.  He handed it to Riko.  "Do not give that bottle back to me tonight.  Give it to Doctor Sven when we''re done here.  Tell him he''s in charge of the bottle until I say otherwise.  If it stays in the tent with me right now, I''m afraid it will be gone before tomorrow, and that won''t do anyone any good."

    Doctor Sven sleeps in this tent, doesn''t he?  I thought, before realizing that the captain probably wouldn''t dig through the doctor''s personal possessions to get whiskey he knew he shouldn''t be drinking to excess.

    The captain turned away from Riko, towards me, and bent his right arm to point his thumb at the tent flap.  "Allen, you''re dismissed.  Go get some sleep.  If you think of any offensive or defensive ideas, write them down.  If not, don''t worry about it, you''ve more than pulled your weight tonight, and it''s getting late."

    **

    I gathered my crutches and left the tent.  On my way back to my carriage, despite the very poor lighting, I managed to spot and avoid stepping in what had been Doctor Sven''s evening meal.  Absently, I made a mental note to bring the swine by and have them clean up the mess if nobody had taken care of it by morning.

    After reaching the carriage, I wasn''t particularly hungry for food, but I was desperate for some sort of comfort and there was absolutely no way I was sleeping.  Opening the cabinet that held the pouch with flatbreads in it, I selected two and also pulled out the lap desk, some paper and a pencil from a shelf in the cabinet.

    Writing a letter to Marza was relaxing.  Despite knowing that I was setting myself up for a lecture about crossing sunny rocks late in the day, I gave her a true accounting of what happened with the snake at the side of the road.  I also told her about how Riko and I had agreed to claim the land next to the river that the militia was clearing, and described the land.  After I explained about the fact that land on both sides of the road was being cleared, I described that land as well.

    Letting Marza know that Riko was probably going to claim the land across the road for another young married Gonzalez couple would let her at least try to shape that decision.  She would hopefully be able to work behind the scenes so that the land across from us was settled by members of her family that would best synergize skills and socialize with us for the first couple years.  Eventually we planned to sell the first farm and move farther north into an area of established farms where I could hire out my swine for extra income, but cutting trees was only the start of what needed to be done to create a working farm.  Nobody could be an expert at every needed skill.

    As I wrote the last part of the letter with my more heartfelt expressions, I slowly peeled the wax off the two flatbreads, eating them in little bites so they would last longer.  Honey and persimmon preserves in one, caramel and mint in the other.  After one page, front and back, I addressed the envelope to Marza, and put the letter inside.  One benefit of militia service was that Marza wouldn''t have to pay to receive the letter.

    I was still not tired in the least.  Looking out the window at the position of the moon, it appeared to be close to midnight.  With a sigh, I looked at the paper and considered writing to my family before brainstorming about how to kill people.

    A part of my brain responded, telling me that Captain Marko had excused me from that duty, but I knew I''d do it anyway.  I wasn''t sleeping any time soon.

    The front page of my letter to my family glossed over the whole snake encounter, carefully avoiding the details that would make Pa want to poke me in the chest and tell me to use my head for something other than a hat rack.  I was a lot more specific in terms of the land, the plants and trees, as well as the visible rocks and the fact that it appeared as if the land had been farmed long ago.  I told them that while marking trees that could provide forage, I had even found several piles of weathered paving stones with hints of mortar on them that had obviously been sorted and scavenged.  The stones remaining were strangely shaped, likely broken as walls fell, but they could certainly be used in new construction to fit odd holes in walls.  There was a tributary stream leading to the river, but it didn''t carry enough water volume for irrigation of much farmland.  It could, however, provide enough water for the swine and the house. That assessment was supported by clear evidence of what had once been a cistern for house water.

    I didn''t want Ma to be dragged into the Albert mess if she could somehow still avoid it.  In my head, I knew it was almost certain that she would be approached because her verbal traditions would likely be at least a little different from the verbal traditions of martial artists in New Charleston.  In my heart, I simply wanted to pretend it wouldn''t happen.

    In the end, I decided I would mention it in the next day''s letter.  If Albert was going to do something active to stop us, he would almost certainly make it happen soon.  If the captain got a response from the Stateman, and the rest of us didn''t mysteriously disappear tonight or tomorrow, I''d warn her in tomorrow''s letter.  That decision finally reached, I mentioned nothing at all about Albert, martial arts, or how the militia''s tactics knowledgebase had been lost.  I had never heard of any sort of vindictive streak in Albert, but the sheer scope of what he was doing to human society made me realize it was very unlikely I would ever hear of such a thing.

    I wrote a short, personal comment for every family member, and then addressed the envelope and set it on top of Marza''s letter.

    Then I spent at least an hour trying to figure out ways to attack our position, and how I would defend it.  That particular mental exercise was more excruciating than my first year of calculus had been.  I cannot even begin to explain the depth of my fervent hope that I was a terrible tactician, and someone else would have better ideas.

    Eventually, I managed to come up with three methods of attack and defense, set aside my lap desk and managed to fall asleep.  By the position of the moon in the sky when I last remembered staring at it, I fell asleep at some time after two in the morning.

    **

    I woke to the scent of bread, and a knock on the door of my carriage.  Doctor Sven''s voice shattered what sleepiness remained.  "Allen, we need to get your leg into a soak if you want to be done before the tactics meeting this morning."

    "Yes, sir.  Give me a minute please."  I rapidly threw off my blankets, put on a shirt, slipped on my moccasins, and grabbed the two envelopes and folded sheet with my ideas, putting them in my pouch.

    There was a chuckle outside the door.  "It''s almost daylight, young man, sleeping in today?"

    I groaned.  "Had a late night, sir, and then two letters to write followed by some extra work the captain asked us to do.  Even after all that, sleep didn''t come early or easy."

    Even through the carriage door, the doctor''s voice seemed tired, bitter, and frustrated.  "I suppose I cheated.  I wasn''t able to sleep at all last night."  From his reaction to what we had discussed last night, it was no surprise he hadn''t slept.

    Carefully arranging my words and my crutches as I opened the door, I emerged while speaking in a serious voice.  "I think, sir, that if I were a man of your calling, I wouldn''t have slept either."

    He stared at me for a moment.  "I would hope not."  Then he turned away from me and started walking towards the medical building under construction.  "I''m certainly not going to be attending any tactics meetings in the future.  Strategy meetings are bad enough.  I don''t need to know what''s in the sausage."  I saw him stiffen slightly, and then stumble and shake his head as he completed the sentence.

    "Have they cleaned up the construction mess around the medical building, sir?" I asked, hoping for a negative.

    "No, Allen.  It''s still quite a mess."  He turned back to face me, speaking quickly.  "We won''t be inside the building.  The roof and shingles are being put on this morning.  I need to be there though, since I have several large pieces of cabinetry for storage that have to be unloaded from supply wagons, and the carpenters will be working with me on a few pieces of cabinetry for the centrifuges, as well as masons creating stoves for space heating and sterilization of water."

    Nodding to myself, I raised a finger.  "In that case, one moment, sir, I''ll bring my swine for cleanup duty."  I quickly gathered leashes for the swine before releasing them from beneath the carriage.  Yesterday, I had seen that both the medical and kitchen buildings were surrounded with piles of rough cut lumber, sod, branches, leaves, and bark.  Swine couldn''t eat lumber easily (and I was sure it wouldn''t be appreciated if they tried) but they would eat most of the rest of it with no problem, even if it wasn''t something that they particularly enjoyed.  I''d be able to watch them, and I could probably convince whoever was cleaning up to just drag all the construction detritus to the swine, as opposed to gathering it and dumping it somewhere farther away.

    Doctor Sven thought briefly before nodding slowly.  "That makes some sense.  They will have to stay at least fifteen meters from the building though.  I don''t want swine scat tracked into the facility."  He turned in the direction of the building and thumped his right index finger against his jaw.  "That distance won''t be a real problem though, since we can''t be in the building yet.  The soaking water is already heating and the trough is mobile."

    We walked past where the doctor had been ill the night before, and I saw where someone had used a shovel to turn the turf over and bury it.  Not very sanitary.  I didn''t even need to give a command.  Bigboy and Hoss were starting to root it out within seconds of me passing it.

    "Doctor Sven, I''m going to let them clean this up, if that''s OK?  It won''t take more than a couple minutes."

    Turning around briefly, the doctor grimaced and said "Fine."

    The other swine did not even try to push in on the two boars in such a small feeding area.  I watched the two closely, to be sure they didn''t go after one another.  The turned over section of turf was almost a meter across, and about half a meter wide.  The two boars worked from opposite sides of the upended turf towards one another, watching each other carefully.  Before they got close enough to touch noses, I called Hoss to me and fed him a half-treat.  When he tried to go back, I told him to lay down, and fed him another half-treat.  He enjoyed the treats, but was restless, looking up at me.  I let Bigboy finish before turning around to follow Doctor Sven, calling the sounder after me.

    Fifteen minutes later, I was sitting on an empty crate, and my leg was in a water boot suspended by ropes under a tripod.  I''d never seen a water boot; it was pleasantly simple and elegant.  We used hot compresses at the farm, which was simpler, but this was something that could be used by many people, and easily sterilized.  The inner boot was several centimeters larger in diameter than my leg, and filled with water.  The outer boot was several centimeters in diameter larger than the inner boot, and around two decimeters deeper.  It was about half filled with water.  I put my leg in the inner boot, and some of that water spilled over into the outer boot.  Then the doctor covered my leg and the inner boot with a heavy rawhide apron and poured boiling water from a skin into the outer boot until it was about three-quarters full.

    The cold water around my leg quickly grew warmer when that was accomplished.  The fire next to me had a large number of water-heating rocks with holes through them.  Doctor Sven handed me a stout stick and told me to pick up the rocks one at a time with the stick, and drop them into the outer boot every couple minutes.  I was to keep the rawhide apron between my face and the boot when dropping rocks into the water.  Even stones that had been heated and cooled many times could sometimes fracture and throw fragments.  If the water in the inner boot got too hot, I had a dipper of cold water in a bucket next to me as well.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Doctor Sven made getting the swine fed easy.  I tied them to a couple nearby persimmon trees, and the doctor simply told the construction boss to have a couple workers take all the branches, bark, leaves, and sod over to the swine.  A man and woman were assigned to that job and started moving a steady flow of edible construction waste over to the swine.  When the two workers saw how quickly the swine were eating the waste, they started making a game of it, trying to bring material faster than the swine could eat it.  It wasn''t a fair competition.  The swine were very hungry, and there were eleven of them compared to two workers.  The other workers started making fun of the haulers, who were both around my age.  There wasn''t any hard feelings from the two haulers.  They seemed happy that they wouldn''t have to haul the trash to where the elefants were kept at night, which was much farther away.

    When I was able to get the construction crew boss''s attention, I also mentioned that I was going to be carving spoons while I was cooking my leg.  At first, the she was a bit sour to me, apparently a little irritated because the doctor had simply ordered her to have her people feed my swine the construction trash.  I offered her team the first six spoons, one for her and five for the crew members she chose, and I''d repeat the same for every visit I made to cook my leg if her team would bring me thirty hand-length pieces of thumb-thick red cedar branches.  Making crude spoons wasn''t hard, but it did require a good knife and some time.  I had both, and I was good with a knife.  As a carpenter I was average at best, but as a whittler I was good, bordering on very good.  I''d been making my own whistles for years, experimenting with different woods and designs.

    The deal was struck, one of the shingle-cutters used an adze to cut thirty pieces of hand-length red cedar from branches, and I started carving crude spoons.  I added a stone to the water boot for every spoon I carved.  Soon, thirty stones were in the deep bottom of the outer boot, and I''d only had to cool the water in the inner boot twice.  The thermal transfer from the water into my leg and through my body was strange.  I was sweating without exerting myself, in early fall morning temperatures.  Every wind gust made me shiver heavily because I was sweating.  I made a note to bring a second shirt or even a jacket to future heat soaking sessions.  Sweating in the cold was not smart for anyone, but especially not for me; I didn''t have the meat on my bones to insulate me.

    While I was working on the second-to-last spoon, I saw Riko.  He saw me and waved before walking over to the doctor.  A few minutes after that, Riko walked from the doctor to me, starting to speak when he was several paces away.  "Allen, the doctor was pleased with the condition of your leg earlier and doesn''t want to re-bandage it or put another poultice on it unless it worsens.  After lunch, he will check the leg one more time, and give you willow bark tea if it looks good.  You have a few minutes before the meeting starts to put your swine under your carriage.  The doctor also said to use the water in the water boot to put out the fire."

    "Yes, sergeant." I said, using his rank rather than name since there were quite a few people around.

    Riko nodded and left, presumably to gather the others who would be attending the meeting.

    I gave six of the thirty spoons I had made to the construction crew boss, as promised. After that, I quickly did everything else I had been told to do, barely managing to get the swine watered at the river and back under the carriage in time to avoid being the last one to the meeting.  I nearly threw away the abysmally slow crutches in frustration twice that morning as I took my swine to and from the river, but the leg still felt tender and painful.

    **

    "They wouldn''t write down my ideas." Brad shrugged. "You said they would."

    He had said last night he wouldn''t help without concessions from Captain Marko.  If concessions had been made, I was fairly certain I didn''t want to know what they had been.

    Lieutenant Davis had a pencil and paper ready already, taking notes.  "I''ll speak to the guards, captain." He said while scribbling.  In the meantime, go ahead and tell us your ideas.  I will write them down."

    Brad leaned back.  "These ideas work for either side.  My first idea is simply to start a forest fire behind the militia, so they will be forced into the river where opposing side''s archers can pick them off.  If you can get enough lamp oil, you might even be able to put enough oil on the river to burn, which would eliminate the need for archers.  That seems like a stretch though.  The river here moves quickly, from what I''ve been told."

    Leaning back, a bit grey-faced, Lieutenant Davis looked at Captain Marko.  "On the other hand, I''m not entirely certain his guards didn''t have the right idea.  Do you really want me to record that in our minutes?"

    Captain Marko was staring, shocked, at Brad.  After several seconds, he closed his eyes and muttered something to himself before continuing more loudly.  "Yes.  Be certain to attribute it to Brad by his full name and indicate why he was incarcerated."  Then he opened his eyes and looked towards the tent entrance.  "Riko, I want patrols behind us as well."

    "Do you really think anyone from the New Tokyo side could possibly think of something that depraved, Captain?" Lieutenant Baker spluttered, red-faced.

    "We don''t have a monopoly on violent prisoners, Lieutenant."  He whispered, eyes locked on Brad.  "I can''t risk overlooking something that might work against us.  I don''t have to use it, but I can''t neglect defending against it."

    "I''m not done yet." Brad said with a grin.

    After a deep breath, Captain Marko said "Continue, Brad."

    Nodding with a malevolent grin that made me shiver, Brad continued.  "Flu season is coming.  The oh-so-comfortable portable cage you keep me in is close enough to the quartermaster''s wagons that I overhear conversations.  We brought centrifuges to spin out plasma from the first people who get the flu, to immunize the rest.  What would happen if we sent our first few flu cases over to their side of the river, with orders to mix heavily with the enely side while attempting to hide their symptoms?"  He smiled a huge grin.  "Give them additional orders to destroy the centrifuges that the opposing side has, when they can no longer hide their symptoms."

    The idea was just so incredibly wrong that I couldn''t even wrap my mind around it.  Deliberately encouraging an uncontrolled flu outbreak?

    Lieutenant Davis''s pencil snapped in his hand, and I saw blood.  His eyes were locked on Brad and he tensed up.

    Brad was looking at the lieutenant with another of his seemingly unending supply of frightening smiles.  "The only reason I''m telling you about these things is because I don''t want them to happen to you, because that would mean they would happen to me.  I don''t particularly like the idea of burning to death in my cage, or dying from the flu.  I don''t plan on giving you any other ideas that you might actually use to win."  His head swiveled to Captain Marko.  "Unless I get concessions."

    So the captain didn''t make a deal with him.  I thought to myself with a sense of thankfulness that hit me like a tidal wave.  I blew out a breath that I had been holding.

    Fobi looked at me.  "You OK, Allen?"

    "I am.  Now that I know Captain Marko isn''t giving him anything."

    Brad gave me a flat stare, with dead-seeming eyes, and then turned his face to the captain.

    There was a muttering of agreement, even from Lieutenant Davis, who was pulling a large pencil splinter out of his hand.  It was a very good feeling to hear almost everyone in the room agreeing with me.

    Even Rikard gave me a short nod without looking me directly in the eye.  The fact that he was agreeing with me soured my stomach a little, and I did my best to pretend I hadn''t seen.

    Unfortunately, Captain Marko didn''t confirm that he would give Brad no concessions.  He only stared at Brad, and Brad stared back at the captain with no expression.

    After a few seconds staring, Captain Marko spoke.  "Lieutenant Davis.  You will create a guard detail for the medical facility.  Work with Doctor Sven and the construction crew to ensure that the centrifuges will be in a separate room in the facility, and there will be a guard post between that room and the rest of the facility, with a guard in it at all times.  The guard will not leave their post for anything other than life-threatening situations."

    Brad seemed to have been waiting for the Captain to finish speaking, but as soon as he was done, he chuckled.  "Get me out of here.  The rest of you are pathetic.  When you realize that you can''t win this without me, the Captain will give me what I want.  I don''t even need to hear your ideas to know they will all be useless or impractical.  You aren''t tough-minded enough to realize you''re trying to fight another kind of locust here.  You insist on seeing them as people, so you won''t do what needs to be done to win."

    What was more frightening to me than Brad''s ideas was realizing that if we didn''t come up with better ideas, I would use Brad''s ideas to save my family, Marza''s family, and everyone else I knew in other farms and in town.  I started feeling sick to my stomach and looked down at my clenched hands in my lap.

    Suddenly, I looked up at Brad.  Killing him before the captain gave into him might keep us from hearing even more terrible ideas.  Justification for it went through my mind.  We kill rabid animals without a second thought.  I don''t really see where Brad is any different.  The minutes of the meeting and the witnesses here would certainly give me some sort of plausible defense against a murder case.  Wouldn''t it clearly be a case of temporary insanity?  I could just say I lost it, blanked out, and the next thing I knew, he was dead?  A crime of passion?  His insanity simply drove me to temporary madness?

    My mind provided a quick answer to that.  If Albert wanted to hide what we knew, he could certainly intercede in a court case, even if not asked - he had that right by law.  Even if Albert didn''t choose to lie, there was no way I would be able to falsify madness to him.  I would go to prison for life for premeditated murder, because I was certainly premeditating.

    Even more frightening, if Albert chose to lie, he could simply draw every person in this tent together in a court case, and create false evidence of prior violence for everyone other than me.  He might even be able to find real evidence of violence, in the history of Fobi or the other officers who had worked in law enforcement.  One court case could get every one of us thrown in prison for life or shipped to the prison colonies.  Albert had been working on unexpectedly deep levels.  How important was it to him that we not interfere with his plans?  Would seriously discussing something like what Brad suggested get us all killed by an irritated Albert dropping a lunar rock on us from orbit to keep the rot from spreading?

    I found that I''d locked stares with Brad, who appeared to be meeting my eyes in challenge, without any humor or derision.  My right hand was on my knife sheath.  I was furious, not scared.

    Fobi was looking straight at me, and tense.

    The lieutenants were looking back and forth between me and Brad.

    Then my mind snapped back to my prior thoughts.  I realized that if we didn''t come up with something that would work, everyone I loved might starve to death without Brad''s rabid ideas.

    How many of the others are thinking what I''m thinking?  Are any of them as horrified as me about what Brad might convince us to do?

    From the corner of my eye, I saw Rikard was slowly pushing his chair back from the table, while looking at my face.

    Captain Marko cleared his throat.  "Sergeant, please take Allen to the side of the tent.  Take his knife, give it to Fobi, and stand between Allen and Brad while Brad is escorted out.  Fobi, back up Sergeant Gonzalez.  Lieutenants, take Brad back to his wagon.  Tell the guards that next time, if they do not write down his ideas, they will answer to me, personally.  If you need to, find guards with stronger stomachs."

    Riko''s hand firmly gripped my right shoulder.  "Not worth it, Allen.  Give me your knife."

    Without taking my eyes off Brad, I handed Riko my knife.

    Brad smirked at me as I stood.  I stumbled a bit on my leg, but didn''t pick up my crutches as I moved to the side of the tent and looked away from the door.

    After Brad was led out of the tent, Fobi handed me my knife back.  As she carefully put the haft of the blade into my hand, she looked up at me with a grin.  "Have you ever considered a job in law enforcement?"

    I just stared down at her for a second.  "No.  I''m fairly sure I wouldn''t be able to control my temper with constant exposure to crime."  I stared at Rikard, briefly, and then back at Fobi.

    She shook her head.  "In another few years, after the hormones cool down a bit, if you decide to get away from farming, you might have what it takes to be a street patroller, Allen."

    Captain Marko coughed.  "Fobi, you are not exactly the best judge of patroller qualities."  His eyes shifted from Fobi to me.  "Still, she''s not the worst judge either.  You have to be at least twenty with no violence record between sixteen and twenty to be considered.  Keep it in mind if farming doesn''t work for you."

    Picking up a sheet of paper from in front of him, the captain continued.  "Now, before the lieutenants come back, I''ll go over a list of ideas we already have, and if you have duplicated them, mark them off your lists."

    In the end, the officers had already thought of four of my six ideas.

    Fobi had another idea that the two of us shared.  The New Tokyo population would simply eat everything they had, and then cross over and spread over our land.  If they were imprisoned, we would still have to feed them.  All we could do to stop this would be to put them in camps and feed them starvation rations.  We might be able to ship a fair number to other states by boat or carriage, but not a large number of them.  Large numbers of weak prisoners in camps would be large disease vectors, and keeping them from escaping and wandering off into the rest of the state would be nearly impossible in the first place.

    Captain Marko looked at Fobi and scratched his jaw thoughtfully.  "I would be willing to bet that this is what Second Landing expects to happen.  They have the food reserves to absorb a great many refugees.  With enough debt generated against enough displaced people, Second Landing will be in a position of great strength, even if it''s morally repugnant.  Having a substantial part of the New Tokyo population imprisoned already and unable to generate income to pay debt, New Tokyo might not be able to get a worthwhile crop in next year.  The imprisoned New Tokyo people would simply generate more debt as they get fed season after season."  He tapped his fingers on the table.  "Eventually the New Tokyo economy and government would collapse, and Second Landing would sweep in to collect a vassal state, or a second state in a republic, or whatever their plans are.  We will have our own share of New Tokyo prisoners in our own camps, but most will go to Second Landing because that''s where the food is reported to be.

    Cleaning the wound on his hand with some wood alcohol, Lieutenant Davis hissed in pain.  "If that''s the case, why would New Tokyo send anyone our way?"

    Lieutenant Baker spoke in a thoughtful tone, "If Fobi''s right, they will try to send enough refugees our way to not kill us all in starvation, and beg for debt leniency to work their fields and industries while they pay us back.  We would have to give it to them, or risk Second Landing doing the same thing to us the next time there''s a blight or off-season early locusts.

    Captain Marko nodded.  I''ll send this to Stateman Urda, she should be made aware of this, if she hasn''t been made aware of it yet.

    Rikard was next, and shrugged.  "All of my ideas for offense and defense have been covered, but I have an idea about where to get more ideas.  Letters can go to and from the prison colonies, even if people go only one way.  We can send letters to imprisoned family members in the prison colonies, and see if they can brainstorm more ideas for us."

    There was agreement that that was a very good idea.  There were certainly some prison colony residents that would try to think up ideas about how to help New Charleston prevent their families from starving.

    "What about you, Allen?"  Captain Marko asked next.

    I nervously looked at the one remaining idea on my paper.  "I''m not entirely certain how workable this is, sir, but from what I remember about my history of violence classes, starvation, exposure, and illnesses killed more people in wars than fighting.  To avoid exposure and starvation in war, cities stored food.  When there was war, people from outside retreated into the cities, and the attackers would sometimes siege the defenders in the cities for months, or even years."

    I looked at the captain and he nodded, saying "Yes, that matches what I learned.  How can that history help us?"

    I twisted my hands under the table a bit.  "I''d never made the connection before, but the only reason why sieges could have happened in the pre-technology days is if the people inside the cities could keep the people outside from just walking in and attacking them or taking their food.  There had to be barriers, and we don''t have them in our cities.  On the farm, we keep animals from going where we don''t want them with walls.  Can we move all the food and people into cities and towns and build barriers like pits or walls to keep out people we don''t want?"

    There was silence at the table for a minute.  "Lieutenant Davis spoke first.  Walls around a town, maybe.  But New Charleston?  That''s...  Captain, is that even possible?"

    Captain Marko raised both thumbs to the headache pressure points at his temples and whistled a barely audible single tone.  "Certainly possible as a long term solution.  In the short term though?  Sergeant, go get Quartermaster Brown.  I''m not entirely certain the idea can work to help us right now, but I don''t know enough to say how fast we could build a wall big enough to protect a town or the city."

    Rikard tapped his fingers on the table.  "We''ve still got crops in the ground.  It won''t do us much good to leave them and go build walls around towns."

    "You aren''t thinking it through.  New Tokyo also has late plantings in.  I strongly doubt their farmers will leave them.  They are certainly hoping to get some sort of a decent crop in with a lucky late autumn warm streak.  It''s early enough in the year that they will almost certainly get a poor crop.  They may get a mediocre crop.  The chances of a good crop are very low, but possible."

    The officers were looking at me in curiosity, probably wondering why I knew so much about farming in this area.  "Riko, and my Granpa did a lot of research on this area.  I know a little about it from talking to my Granpa the other day."  Thoughts of Marza crossed my mind.  I carefully did not look at Rikard.

    After I paused to clear my minds of thoughts of Marza and Rikard, I continued.  "The weather patterns break around the border.  In just a few kilometers north, the mountain ridge behind New Charleston ends.  The cold air from the northwest gets pushed across New Tokyo and a little down into this area.  The growing season here at the border is a week shorter than it is where we live, and two weeks shorter before you get more than fifty kilometers into New Tokyo."

    "Yes, that''s pretty much what Riko''s already told us.  Why does it matter here?"  Captain Marko asked, with his head tilted.  He didn''t seem puzzled, it sounded like a question he already knew the answer to.

    "Sir, there may be time to build walls around towns while we tend and hope for a good late planting crop."  I paused. "At least there''s time to start building walls.  The New Tokyo farmers and agricultural workers won''t move until their crops are either harvested or have failed.  Even after a terrible harvest, even if they have to eat all of their own farm animals they can''t use for traveling, they will have enough food to last them until our crops are in.  They would have to be idiots to abandon their own land while our crops are still in the ground unless they absolutely have to.  You did say in the talk you gave us that they had some reserves, right, Captain?"

    I couldn''t remember who had said they had some reserves.  "Or maybe it was the draft letter?"  I shook my head and felt a chill as I thought about what it would mean if New Tokyo had no stored food.  "If they have no reserves, New Tokyo city itself might empty in days and scour their own farmers'' land on their way to us and Second Landing."

    Then I remembered what Brad had said, and whispered it.  "Like locusts."

 Chapter 18

    Captain Marko was quick to respond with a short, rapid sweep of his right arm in front of him as he shook his head.  "No.  They have reserves.  If they didn''t, our envoy and their staff in New Tokyo would have seen signs of it, and told Stateman Urda."

    Even though Captain Marko was confident, I was still worried.  If I had a desperate need for food, I would at least try to pretend that my need wasn''t immediate and extreme.  Especially if charity was known not to be an option.  Bargaining from a known position of need is never good.

    At the same time, we hadn''t even seen the first refugee or New Tokyo militia member yet.  That seemed to indicate that nobody was starving, yet.  I could easily imagine the New Tokyo Stateman choosing to hide the shortness of their reserves, even from the population of New Tokyo, but there had to be at least some food left, or at least some people would already be on the move.

    Another thought struck me.  I considered that New Tokyo might be gathering refugees together and organizing them far enough away from the border, and from New Tokyo, so that neither we nor the envoy staff had seen them.  That seemed unlikely though, so I said nothing.

    Lieutenant Davis coughed.  "Captain, I know it''s important to build infrastructure and plan, but, we really need to start training.  You know how hard it is for a lot of law enforcement recruits to learn to use tonfas and staves against people."  He paused.  "We have already had complaints from some people when they were only sharpening and fire-hardening the spears we collected.  I''m not looking forward to trying to teach people to use them.  It''s going to be a nightmare, and the longer we wait, the less effective our training will be.  Especially considering that we have no manuals to teach by."  He gestured at the other lieutenant.  "Lieutenant Baker and I are going to have to try to make things up as we go along.  We''ve only got about two dozen people who have any experience using a spear for hunting, and I''m not confident that hunting techniques will be much use for us in a fight."

    I nodded.  Bears and feral pigs were about the only animals that were hunted with spears in this part of the world, and it was a lot safer to hunt them from horseback with dogs and bows if you chose to hunt them at all, instead of just poisoning them.

    I would definitely not want to be standing on the ground with only a spear between me and an angry Hoss or Bigboy, and they were nowhere near the size that a feral farm pig might grow to.  A farm pig could easily mass five hundred to seven hundred kilos.  Stopping that much mass with a sharp stick was close to the bottom of the list of things I would ever want to try, somewhere barely above cliff-diving in a dry gorge.  Academically, I knew how to do it.  Plant the spear butt in the soil and let the animal charge you.  Trying it with bears would be bad enough, since they might simply swipe the spear with a paw instead of impaling themselves on it.  I couldn''t imagine a spear-planting technique working with people, especially people with their own spears.  Or, even worse, people with bows and slings.

    Captain Marko looked thoughtful for a moment.  "You have a point.  But we need health and food preparation infrastructure, followed by better shelter for all of us, or exposure, illness, and desertion will start to work against us."  He thumped his fingers on the table.  "We''ve already lost six people to desertion and we haven''t even had the first training session yet."  He paused and took a deep breath.  "Being physically ill or psychologically miserable because they are being trained to fight other people, and then having to sleep in a tent, on the ground, will almost certainly drive up the desertion rate."

    Fobi spoke after raising her finger and getting a nod from the captain.  "Sir, why not get the lieutenants together with the people who are experienced with a spear, and the three of us as well."  She pointed to herself, and then Rikard and me with small hand motions.  "We can work together to try to test some techniques using the same method of opposition that we had planned to do over maps.  We need to know what to teach before we can teach it effectively, and these two might give us ideas."

    At that moment, Riko re-entered the tent, stating "Quartermaster Brown will be with us shortly, captain."

    After a glance towards Riko, Fobi nodded.  "And Sergeant Gonzalez as well, maybe?"

    After about a second, Riko responded.  "I came into the conversation late.  What do you want my help with teaching?"  I couldn''t see his face, since I was facing away from him, but I could hear the curiosity and caution in his voice and could imagine his slightly curious expression.

    "Using spears." Lieutenant Baker said, before Fobi could respond.

    Riko blew out a deep breath.  "I haven''t used a spear in thirty years, but..."  He paused.  "I''ll help if I can, but what I know won''t be very good against people unless they are remarkably stupid.  I only used a spear in earnest twice, both times against wolves which weren''t hungry enough to press an attack.  Mostly, I used spears as walking sticks."

    Lieutenant Baker frowned and leaned back in her chair.  "You know how to hold one, which is more than most of us can say.  I know we have experienced spear hunters in the scouts.  I asked.  The problem is that half of the scouts are out at any given time, with the rest sleeping or recovering from hard riding."  She paused.  "More than half, after we start patrolling behind us to watch for fire starters, unless I get more people, which I''ll address at tonight''s planning meeting.  Still, sir, what you and Fobi said makes sense."

    Captain Marko pushed back his chair and stood.  "I need to speak with Quartermaster Brown about the feasibility of wall-building around the city and towns, and then make a report to the Stateman.  Lieutenant Baker stays with me."  He turned to her with a nod.  "We need to work out how many more people you need to patrol behind us as well.  Preferably before the meeting tonight.  I also want you here for my discussion with Brown.  I seem to recall that your brother was a mason, right?"

    Looking up at the captain with a nod, Lieutenant Baker said "Yes, sir, but I never learned much from him about the trade.  He apprenticed off the ranch to a childless mason after he fell out of a tree and the leg break didn''t heal quite right.  I rarely ever saw him after that, and when I did we didn''t talk about masonry.  Our ranch was too far from town for regular visits."

    "Hmm."  The captain was still for a moment.  "Still, you have some exposure to the trade, and I want someone here to take notes, so I can concentrate on thinking."  He looked in Riko''s direction, over my head.  "Sergeant, send one of the tent guards with instructions to speak to the quartermaster before he arrives, and see if he knows of any masons with us.  If he does, have the guard get the name of the most experienced mason, find them, and send them to this tent immediately.  I''ll be surprised if we don''t at least have an apprentice or journeyman mason with us.  Brown would have complained to me by now, otherwise."

    "Yes, sir." Riko spoke before I heard the tent flap open and Riko spoke a couple sentences to someone, presumably one of the tent guards.  Then there was the sound of someone running.

    As I heard Riko step back into the tent behind me, Lieutenant Davis finished writing on the paper on the table in front of him before pushing all the writing materials over to Lieutenant Baker, who collected them and arranged them in front of herself.  He pushed back his chair and stood.  "With your permission captain, Fobi, Rikard, and Allen will come with me.  Riko will gather a couple scouts with experience using spears and meet the rest of us on the road, about a hundred meters behind the camp.  We''ll start trying to figure out fighting techniques that might be effective."

    "Permission granted."  The captain nodded.  "Before you go, however, I want input from you on a simple matter.  We are going to start needing a camp security presence larger than we can comfortably micromanage, or we might start losing horses and elefants to the exact same tactics that we''re prepared to use against the New Tokyo militia."  A grimace later, he continued.  "As well as protecting the important parts of our camp infrastructure that Brad has pointed out.  A few infiltrators starting fires could be disastrous."

    Fully standing now, Lieutenant Davis nodded.  "Yes, we probably want a sergeant for handling that, and Riko''s going to be busier, with the scouts growing in size as well."

    Fobi looked from Captain Marko to the two lieutenants, squinting slightly.  "No.  I''m not taking a position of authority.  I can''t."  She pointed a finger at Don.  "He''s in this tent for a reason.  I suspect he''s either shown some good common sense, or he''s impressed you with something he''s done.  Choose him.  I''ll advise him if you want, since I doubt he has law enforcement experience."

    Captain Marko steepled his fingers under his chin and looked at Fobi.  "After our conversation last night, I''ll accept that arrangement."  He paused and turned to Don.  "Sorry to make you uncomfortable, Don, but unless one of the two lieutenants has seen or heard something I haven''t, you''re going to be our camp sergeant for guards."

    Lieutenants Davis and Baker looked at one another, and both shook their heads.

    "No problems I know of, sir." Lieutenant Baker said.

    "Likewise, sir."  Lieutenant Davis echoed.  "Don seems like a good match for a sergeant''s position, after what we saw through the window of the inn."  After saying that, he looked from me to Rikard, and then to Don.

    I felt my face heating up as I realized that at least two of the officers had apparently watched the altercation between Don, Emerald, Rikard, and me.  Or rather, me attacking Rikard and being restrained by Don.

    Did Doctor Sven also see it, but not let me know?  Was I being somehow tested?  Was Rikard?

    Rikard looked at least as startled as I felt, from what I saw of his reaction in my peripheral vision as I carefully avoided looking at him directly.

    Captain Marko clapped his hands together once in satisfaction, with only enough strength to make a gentle smacking noise.  "Good.  Do you have any objection to taking the position of sergeant over the camp guards, Don?"

    I turned my head a little to see Don.

    There was a brief pause before Don spoke.  "No, sir.  I''ll settle Emerald into the prior duty you had me performing though, as I won''t be able to devote myself to it."  He looked at Rikard, expressionlessly.

    Rikard looked irritated as he stared at Don, but he said nothing.

    The captain nodded.  "Very well, Sergeant Covil.  Fobi will be your consultant if you feel you need her assistance.  I strongly suggest you take her council for at least a few days as you get settled in, as Fobi is an experienced law enforcement sergeant.  The decisions will be yours, within the bounds of orders you are given by myself or the two lieutenants."  He raised a finger.  "If the quartermaster or doctor ask you or the men and women under you to perform tasks that do not interfere with orders we have given, you should perform them.  Otherwise, request that they come to us and request we send you modified orders."  He paused.  "You and Riko will be working fairly closely together on a regular basis, and may share some responsibilities and trade some personnel between you as things move forward."

    "Understood, sir." Don said, with a nod.

    With another nod, this time at Lieutenant Davis, the captain continued.  "Very good then."  He turned to Lieutenant Davis.  "Lieutenant, I want you back here after lunch with an update.  For now, go see what you can put together to start developing a training program.  Don will be under your direct command, but for now Lieutenant Baker and I will teach him a few things about how we make the sausage, and introduce him, as a sergeant, to Quartermaster Brown and Doctor Sven."

    **

    A minute or so later, all five of us who were leaving were on the road.  Four of us walking away from the camp, and Riko walking into camp to go find a couple other scouts with experience using a spear.  As I crutched along the road, following Lieutenant Davis, I carefully watched Rikard from the corner of my right eye.  I was vulnerable, unable to move properly on an injured leg, and didn''t trust Rikard to not take advantage of it.  Fobi was walking between the two of us, thankfully.

    As we left the tent, Lieutenant Davis had collected six cut saplings that were leaning up against the side of the wagon closest to the officer''s tent.  Each sapling was heavily padded with leather at one end.  He walked a couple meters in front of us with the padded spears over his shoulder so he wouldn''t hit us as we followed him.

    We walked in silence for a hundred meters before, without turning around to face us, the lieutenant spoke.  "Before either of you two get any ideas, I''m not going to let you spar against each other."  He turned his head a little and slowed as he looked back at the two of us.  "By the way, I''m surprised that neither of the two of you blurted out something indignant in there when you realized we intentionally arranged for the two of you to encounter one another in town."

    There really wasn''t anything I wanted to say in response to that.  I was still trying to figure out what exactly had been intended, because it was very clear that a lot of things had been orchestrated with intent that I didn''t understand.  The officers were at least one step ahead of me.  I didn''t need to ask the first question, fortunately.

    "Did the Countyman know you were planning to risk Allen attacking and possibly severely injuring me, lieutenant?" Rikard asked, angrily, his voice tense but not extremely loud.

    The lieutenant turned away from us to watch where he was walking.  "Yes, he did.  He was specifically asked to provide at least two young violence offenders, and if at all possible, they were to be antagonistic towards one another.  You two are close to ideal.  We only hope that you''re going to be as much help as we imagined you might be when we first came up with the idea.  Fobi''s idea has taken it to a different level though.  We hadn''t considered using you for actual fighting ideas, just tactics."

    I was quite angry myself at this point, and couldn''t keep my mouth shut.  "I''m not entirely certain how the two of us are going to be of any assistance to you, especially if you''re expecting us to work together, somehow.  If you know our history from the Countyman, you should know better."  I paused, realizing I''d forgotten something.  "Sir."

    Fobi and Lieutenant Davis both chuckled, but Fobi spoke first.  "We don''t want you working together.  We want you working against each other.  The fact that you don''t like each other at all makes it likely that you are going to consider things that we wouldn''t.  You''re also both young male violence offenders, so it''s fairly likely you''re going to escalate against each other in ways that would be hard for most people to follow."

    "What?"  Rikard commented before I could, though his question wasn''t what I would have asked.  "Why not use Brad for that.  The man is clearly insane and dangerous.  He''s clearly even worse than Allen."

    Fobi laughed, almost sounding like a dog''s bark, and then answered patiently.  "If we got his cooperation, he probably would be as good as the two of you.  He''s brilliant and has no empathy for the pain of others.  However, he''s not trustable in any way.  He''s smart enough that any seemingly good ideas he might give us might be somehow flawed and fall apart on us when we try to use them.  We''ll take his input but we have to be very careful with it, like poison around children."

    Looking around, the lieutenant stopped and set the bundle of spears on the ground.  "We were just going to have you two pretend to be opposing army leaders and let you role play against each other, each of you with one of us lieutenants to assist you with forming plans, and with Captain Marko officiating the contests, while he tried to pick out useful ideas for his own use."  He paused.  "But you might have already figured that out.  Fobi''s idea takes it a little farther.  I''ll let her explain while I check to make sure these spears aren''t sharpened underneath the padding."

    Fobi, still between us as we three stopped close to the lieutenant, pushed against my right arm and Rikard''s left, gently pushing us a bit farther away from one another.  Then she stepped forward and turned around to face us.  "When Riko gets here with some experienced spear-users, we''re going to spar as a group.  The lieutenant and I are the only ones here with training about how to handle ourselves in a fight with another person, so we''re going to each lead a team.  You two will consult with the two of us and give us ideas.  Riko will officiate.  Just like we were planning to do in the tent, over a map, but with live people.

    "I... What?  You want us to help teach you how to fight?"  I couldn''t quite grasp the idea.  I could imagine, in some way, that someone had to teach law enforcement officers how to subdue people, and obviously Ma had been taught to fight long ago, but I certainly didn''t know enough about fighting to teach anyone.

    Lieutenant Davis''s voice cut through my confusion.  "No.  Fobi and I already know how to fight people.  The experienced spear hunters know how to fight animals.  Your job is to give us ideas about how to fight many people all at once.  There are law enforcement tactics for dealing with large groups of disorderly people, but that''s all about containment and arrest, not about defending and attacking.  In fifteen years on the force, I''ve only had to use that training twice, and the tactics we used worked, so there hasn''t been much need for me or anyone else to think about it much."

    I turned away from Fobi to face the lieutenant, and saw him removing a padded end from a blunt spear before putting it back on and tying it back in place.  He then set the spear on the ground to his left side, and picked up another from his right side, quickly untying the padded end and repeating the process.

    "I think I see."  I said before turning my head to stare at Rikard with a tight smile.

    I get an opportunity to try and make a fool of Rikard?  I''ll take that.

    "Will I be working with you, Fobi, or Lieutenant Davis?"  Rikard asked, as his eyes narrowed in my direction.

    Fobi spoke before the lieutenant could, cutting him off and getting a bit of an annoyed look from him.  "I''ll work with Allen.  I''m sure I wouldn''t be able to work with you very well, Rikard, considering your history."

    Rikard got a puzzled look on his face, but Lieutenant Davis stopped looking irritated and nodded.  "That does make some sense."

    I smiled inside at Rikard''s confusion.  He didn''t know Fobi''s history.  Neither did I, really, but I knew enough about it from the conversation the night before that I understood exactly why Fobi wanted nothing to do with him.  I could only wish that I''d thought about kicking Rikard between the legs when he was down.  The idiot was a danger to the gene pool, and I''d missed my chance to do a good deed for society.

    Fobi smirked as she looked up at me.  "You might not be so happy when you realize that the lieutenant is younger, stronger, taller, heavier, has more advanced training than me, and is probably smarter too."

    "We aren''t actually expecting you to hurt each other, are we?"  I said, shocked.  "It''s just going to be poking at each other with padded staves?"

    "The lieutenant is still going to have an advantage over me.  It will make any ideas you come up with potentially less of an advantage."  She paused and winked at me.  "I''m sneakier than he is though.  I''m still required to train as part of law enforcement, and we''ve sparred quite a few times with staves and tonfas.  Don''t think that I''m too overmatched, but I am at a disadvantage.  Spears are new to both of us, and thrusts are not attacks we are trained to use often with staves - too likely to cause permanent injury.  He''s got longer arms for longer thrusts."

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    Lieutenant Davis laughed.  "I''m not falling for that again, Fobi.  I''ve sparred with you too recently."

    Fobi smiled and shrugged, turning to face him.  "It''s only the truth lieutenant.  You do win two out of every three points when we spar, usually."

    "I work hard for them."  He replied back with a little laugh as he picked up the last of the six spears and started untying its protective cover.

    "This isn''t going to be the same as a staff though, though some of the staff movements might be useful."  Fobi frowned.  "The boys here don''t have any real idea about how to use a staff though, never mind a spear.  Should we experiment a little between ourselves and let them watch before we ask them to give us ideas?"

    "Sure.  These things are a full meter longer than a staff though, it''s going to be strange."  Lieutenant Davis picked up two of the padded spears and tossed one through the air to Fobi who caught it smoothly.

    Fobi looked at Rikard, and then me.  "You two keep to opposite sides of the road, and watch us.  Say nothing to each other.  I will personally put you on tail if either of you attack each other." She looked at me instead of Rikard.

    I nodded to her unasked question, thinking to myself.  I''m on crutches.  Does she really think I''d attack him when I''d probably be slower than him in moving around?

    I looked over at Rikard, who I saw was looking at me with a little grin.  Pausing a second, I had another thought.  I suppose I could use one of my crutches as a staff.

    Rikard looked away from me when I smiled back at him.  "Rikard''s safe from me as long as he never says Marza''s name in my presence.  That''s my rule."

    Rikard glared at me and started to say something, but looked at Fobi with a slightly puzzled look on his face, and said nothing.

    Lieutenant Davis and Fobi both looked at me with frowns before looking at each other.

    Fobi turned back to me.  "You better rethink that rule, Allen, you''re going to be sixteen soon."

    I stared back at Fobi, and then looked to Rikard.  "I''m no fool, but that rule doesn''t change until I''m sixteen.  Marza and I will be away from town in a new homestead shortly after that."  I walked over to one of the roadside markers and moved to the side so that the sunlight would fall on the small, crude sundial on the surface.  I didn''t need the sundial to check the time; I knew within an hour what time it was because of the season and the position of the sun, but I needed an excuse to look away from Rikard before I worked myself up to the point I wouldn''t be able to think straight.

    After I leaned my hip against the stone post and made sure it was stable, I turned back towards Fobi and the lieutenant, and made myself comfortable against the post.

    Rikard walked into the grass on the other side of the road, and stood, arms crossed, feet shoulder-width apart.  He really had put on a lot of muscle and trimmed down since we graduated.

    Fobi and the lieutenant stood several paces apart in the center of the road, and started slowly showing the two of us basic staff moves, that they called forms, sometimes talking to us, sometimes talking to each other.

    "A lot of spear forms are probably going to be like the long extension staff forms."  Fobi explained.  "We use them mainly for disabling or disarming, but we have to be careful not to hurt people with them, it''s a lot of force in a small surface area."

    "That''s the point here though.  Seriously injure or even kill the other person."  Lieutenant Davis continued, sounding a bit nervous.  "Swinging a three-meter spear is a lot slower than a two meter staff too, and if people are going to be close to one another, we can''t be swinging to keep space open or knock people''s legs from under them.  Even a staff is too long for close work.  Normally when we deploy multiple people to one trouble call, we use tonfas."

    The two of them faced each other and started circling and stepping forward and back, poking towards each other.

    Rikard spoke up.  "Why are you circling each other?"

    Fobi and Lieutenant Davis took two steps back from one another.  Lieutenant Davis scratched his head.  "You''re probably right.  If we are going to be fighting in a line so we can offer each other support, we won''t be moving much, it will all be straight-forward fighting, maybe a little to the sides."

    Nodding, Fobi agreed.  "I agree.  Good point.  Thank you, Rikard."

    I tried to not be irritated that Rikard had spotted that before me.  I had been concentrating on watching what the two of them were doing with the spears, their bodies, their eyes.  Trying to see if they seemed to be doing what Ma told me I should be doing if I got in a fight.  They certainly weren''t putting themselves off balance, and they were both making lots of fake attacks.  They were also staying very balanced.  Even when they lunged forward, they pushed a foot forward so they didn''t unbalance.

    Fobi was right that the lieutenant had an advantage over her, I could see.  He was hitting her fairly regularly in the torso, but she seemed to be mostly limited to hitting him in the arms and legs.  The few times she did manage to hit him in the torso, she stepped forward into his attacks, knocking his spear away before hitting him.  I couldn''t see why she didn''t do that more often, but I suspected she was seeing something that he was doing and responding to it.

    "I''m really not so sure about this, sergeant."  I heard a man''s voice behind me.  "A spear is really dangerous.  I wouldn''t want to hurt a person with one.  They make terrible wounds."

    There was a muttering of agreement from several voices.

    As I turned to face the new voices, Riko spoke.  "Nobody likes this, Pol.  Problem is that a lot of families will be starving this winter.  If it''s an early winter, or a long one, a lot of people might die of starvation.  It''ll be worse for the New Tokyo citizens.  They will be forced to come to us to take what they need or starve unless there is an amazingly good late harvest for them to eat or for us to send some to them.  You know that.  We''ve talked."

    "Knowing it doesn''t make me any happier, sergeant.  It actually makes it worse, since I know there''s no way for me to avoid it." He responded in a bitter voice.

    The speaker, who I recognized from the group of scouts Anu and I  had told the rattlesnake story to, was apparently Pol.  He was a shorter than average man, but wide in the shoulders for his height.  He had some grey mixed in with his dark red hair in a long double braid, and some fairly severe scarring on the right side of his face near his eye.  He wore full buckskins with drying tassels along every seam, and a wide straw hat which shaded his face a little, but not enough to keep me from seeing he was fairer skinned than even my mother, with a few blue veins clearly visible through the skin.  He would never tan, which certainly explained the hat.  I''d never seen him before, and he didn''t look like he was related to any families I''d seen at harvest festivals.

    That brought me up short.  Will there even be a harvest festival this year?

    "I don''t think any of us disagree with you, Pol."  Riko commented in a matter-of-fact tone, bringing me back to reality.  "But here we are."

    "Agreed."  Pol sighed.  "Here we are.  Helping to figure out how to put holes in people with hunting weapons.  Organized killing, followed by a trip to a prison colony if we survive."  He turned his head and spat forcefully into the grass.  "Worth it for family, I suppose."

    Lieutenant Davis spoke.  "We all hope that we don''t have to fight, but if we do, I think we agree that our families are more important than we are."

    There was a resigned muttering from the four men with Riko.

    "Were there no women, Riko?"  Fobi asked.  "We didn''t ask, but if there are any women who know how to use a spear, learning how they use it will be good.  Men and women usually have different ways to use staves and bows.  I''m already seeing I can''t fight like the lieutenant here."

    Riko turned to Pol and the other three men following him.  "I don''t know any women scouts who said they could hunt with a spear, do you?"

    Pol looked at Fobi as he spoke.  "Pardon, and please don''t take insult, ma''am, but women normally don''t hunt with a spear.  When a bear or pig gets a spear into them, if you don''t have a lot of mass and strength, they will keep coming at you while at the same time moving from side to side.  If they shake you off the end of your spear, they will probably maul or kill you."  He paused, thinking.  "You have to hold onto the end and middle of the spear, keep it braced on the ground if possible, and try not get shaken around too much.  If a woman has abnormal size or strength she can hunt bear or boar with a spear.  A small man would be foolish to hunt bear or boar with a spear.  Your mass and strength help keep you alive."

    Pol looked at me, "No insult intended, Allen, but I''d never ask you to stand with a spear against a boar.  Anu, on the other hand, might be better suited to it than most men.  She was a bit overweight, but she looked like she was carrying impressive muscle by how easily she was moving."

    I was a bit irritated, but could tell he wasn''t trying to insult me or Anu.  We were just good examples for the point he was making.  There were many things I simply couldn''t physically do that a big man could, like throw large hay bales.  I had to find different ways to do that work.

    Pol was clearly an experienced hunter, and I agreed with him that I wasn''t big or strong enough to hunt bear or boar with a spear.  My irritation disappeared completely when he got a bit closer and I could see that the scar on his face was several long parallel lines from his cheek under his eye going all the way back to his ear.  The individual wounds had apparently been ragged and were at least a centimeter thick each for their entire length.  Almost certainly a bear had raked him with its claws - a mountain lion slash would have been a cleaner wound.  Pol had paid for his knowledge.

    Fobi looked at Pol and the other three men with Riko, and nodded.  "I don''t think we need to worry about dealing with animals many times our own mass, but I understand why most female hunters probably wouldn''t use a spear.  People aren''t as dangerous up close, but they won''t just run up on a spear like you say bears or boar will.  Still, if you''ve used a spear as a weapon, even against animals, you''ve had some sort of training, and you''re clearly not afraid of the spear itself.  We''re going to have some problems with that, as I''m sure you can imagine."

    "I''m not sure about that, Fobi."  I heard myself saying.  "Maybe not wild animals, but I wouldn''t want to try to stop a horse with a spear, or cattle."

    Lieutenant Davis spoke.  "Horses won''t approach something pointed at them unless they are panicked.  You can make them shy off just by pointing a staff at their chest."  He paused.  "Cattle not so much, a bull will charge right into a staff if it''s annoyed, but I can''t imagine them throwing away food animals or draft animals that way."

    I countered.  "Get a bunch of horses between the enemy and you, and whip them hard enough to draw blood, and they wouldn''t stop for sticks, I don''t think.  Not unless they had a long time to run first.  I''d hate to do that to a good animal, but if you want to break through a line of spears, like we were talking about, that might do it."

    Rikard spoke up.  "Even if we don''t point spears at them, a line of people will look like a fence to any domestic animal.  Just keep people far enough apart so horses or cows can run between us.  They will.  Some people might get shouldered or stepped on, but the line of people wouldn''t get broken."

    I shot back.  "If they have more people in their line in the same length, they could overwhelm us with more spears per meter.  We can''t just leave enough room for horses to go between us."

    "Yes, we can."  Rikard replied with a smile that made me want to hit him.  "If they drive animals at us, half of the line takes a step back and to the side.  Then we have two lines of people, one in front of the other, double-spaced.  We then have every other pairs of people step to the side one space.  That would make a line where there were blocks of four people, with two-person-wide spaces between them to let the animals pass the line.  If we shake our spears in front of us, they will head for the holes in the human fence."

    I couldn''t counter that.  It made sense.  Farm animals knew gates, and even a panicked animal would try to line up to run through an open gate if they could, rather than run into a fence.  There was only one problem I could see with it.  "That will require a lot of coordination.  Every other person steps back and to the side, and then every other two-person line steps to the side again.  After the animals pass, the line has to reform in time to be ready for the attackers who are probably charging behind the horses."

    I saw the lieutenant scratching a note on a small pad of paper.  "Good ideas, both for attack and defense against the attack.  I can''t imagine New Tokyo wasting animals like that, attacking us, but in the right scenario, I could imagine both the use of animals and the creation of pathways for animals to pass through being useful.  Training to quickly and efficiently make holes for horses so our scouts can ride through if they are being chased might be handy too."

    I looked at Rikard, and he looked back at me with a satisfied smile.  I had always suspected it, but at that moment I was absolutely certain that Rikard was, without a doubt, much smarter than he had pretended to be in school.  That made me hate him even more.  As smart as he was proving himself to be, it was clear that his attempted rape of Marza hadn''t been some lame spur-of-the-moment idiot''s idea.  It had certainly been premeditated.

    I forced myself to look away from him before I did something stupid.  Riko was looking at Rikard as well; his face was expressionless but I saw his eye twitch.  I wouldn''t doubt at all that he''d just made the same connections about Rikard''s intelligence that I had, and what it meant.

    Pol and the other three scouts were looking back and forth at Rikard and me.  Pol and the other man I didn''t recognize looked a little bewildered and disgusted.  The two I did recognize, even though I didn''t know their names, seemed less confused.

    Fobi clapped her hands, loudly, startling everyone into looking at her.  She was standing there with the butt of her spear on the road, and the shaft leaning against her shoulder.  She addressed the scouts.  "The boys are violence offenders, and they dislike each other a great deal.  We''re hoping for more good ideas from them, maybe some that will be useful.  Just don''t let them within reach of each other, please, and they aren''t to carry weapons."

    The lieutenant, Fobi, Riko, and the four scouts spent the rest of the morning teaching each other what they knew about spear handling and quarterstaff forms, trying to hammer some sort of useful techniques together, and figuring out how to train people.  Pol had actually trained all of his sons and several of his oldest grandsons on how to use the spear, but his style was almost useless in fighting people.

    Rikard and I listened to everything; whenever either of us had an idea, the other would counter or try to improve it.  Quite a few of those ideas were dismissed by others, generally Riko or the lieutenant, but a couple ideas stuck.

    I mentioned that we should carry sand and use it to try to blind attackers if the opportunity presented itself.  At first the lieutenant said no, it would take too long, and one hand would be off the spear, but Fobi and Riko convinced him it would be worth it if we trained people to quickly throw sand.

    Rikard pointed out that if we wanted more spears per meter, we could put the shortest people in the front line, and tallest people behind them with longer spears.  The tall people behind the front line would have to hold their arms up high to attack, but they could.

    Then it was time for lunch.  We all ate together and continued discussing ideas.  Rikard suggested we try to get a few wagons of broken glass to use to seed the ground ahead of us when we were defending.  I suggested that we could dig holes in the ground and cover them with woven sticks and sod, creating shallow pit traps that might break up a charging line of attackers.  Both ideas were not warmly received, as they would either render the ground dangerous to both us and the attackers, or require a great deal of manual labor.  The lieutenant wrote them down anyway, because there were certainly situations where those methods might be useful.  If it was possible to wall in a town or city, for example, a ring of broken grass and pit traps around the walls might make it harder for attackers.

    After we finished eating, Lieutenant Davis, Fobi, and Riko went to report to Captain Marko.  The scouts went back to their tents to get some sleep so they could be ready for night patrol.  Emerald arrived at the end of the meal to collect Rikard and escort him off to whatever he was supposed to be doing.  I hoped it was something he actively disliked.

    Me?  I collected my swine, took them to the kitchen garbage pit, and let them clean it out before I put them back under my carriage.  It wasn''t enough to fill them up, but the lunch food prep waste hadn''t made it to the garbage pit yet.  I''d take them by the pit after dinner, and the lunch prep trash would be there.  Tomorrow morning after breakfast, the dinner prep waste would be there.

    When I reported to the doctor for another hour in the boot, he was very happy with the appearance of the leg.  "Your circulatory system is very efficient, Allen, and you''re young.  Between the two, you''re healing the bruise very rapidly.  I want you to sleep tonight without elevating your leg."  He handed me a mug of willow bark tea, heavy with sugar to reduce the bitterness.  It was still bitter.

    While I was soaking my leg in the boot, the work crew and I repeated the morning''s trade.  They cut me wood to make spoons.  I gave them five spoons, and put the rest in my pouch.  I now had fifty spoons in my pouch, and would have another twenty-five after the night soak.  Seventy-five spoons for the quartermaster tomorrow morning.

    When I returned to my carriage I saw the Finch and Krupp barge wagon on the road next to the wagon park.  The driver was refusing to take the wagon onto the grass, complaining that it would sink into turf, and the oxen team wouldn''t be able to pull it out.

    I immediately had another idea that I needed to take to the officers.  If I was an enemy, and wanted to really hurt us, I''d light that wagon on fire.  If it blew up with who knows how much gunpowder and nitrocellulose in it, the resulting explosion would kill or maim dozens, even hundreds of us, start fires, and likely destroy the structures we''d been building.  If it was parked in the wagon park, the officers would likely be almost in the epicenter.  Since my carriage was also in the wagon park, I would be too.

    I had no desire to become a red stain mixed with wood splinters from my carriage.  I crutched towards the officer''s tent as quickly as I could.

 Chapter 19

    After explaining my worries about the barge wagon and its load of gunpowder to the officers, nearly a hundred people were dispatched to dig a covered pit to store the gunpowder a hundred meters south of the main encampment.  They wanted it on the east side of the road, but I would have preferred it on the west side of the road.  I couldn''t really argue too much, unfortunately.  There wasn''t any good reason for the pit to be on the west side of the road, as opposed to the east.  I only wanted it on the west side of the road was because I was planning to own the land on the west side of the road.

    After one attempt to get the location of the pit changed, I said nothing else.  Having a cistern close to the road could have allowed me to establish a little roadside market where carriages and wagons could water their animals, and people could buy seeds, produce, eggs, or perhaps even swine culls.  It wasn''t critical though.  Whatever Gonzalez family members moved there would probably like the idea of a market by the road just as much as me.  Neither of our families had a permanent market stall next to the road, mostly because neither family had invested in a water cistern by the road.

    I wasn''t in any condition to help dig, haul dirt, or place stones as part of the high priority project, so I gathered my swine and went back to the clearing I''d found in the woods.  I spent several hours letting my swine root in the clearing while I made another hundred or so spoons.

    When I led my swine back to my carriage before I went to eat dinner, I crutched close enough to the pit to see what had been done.  The pit was dug, the loose walls of broken, flat paving stones inside the pit were built, and the raised platform to keep the gunpowder dry was placed.  Carpenters were building a wooden frame inside the pit to help support the loose stone walls and support an oversized roof to shed water.  All in a period of only a few hours.  It was pretty amazing what a large group of people, three elefants, and several teams of horses could do.

    After eating the evening meal of rice and beans with Anu, Ely, Sara, and Kelvin, they went back to various manual labor jobs, and I went back to Doctor Sven and the hot water boot.  The soaking felt really good, and Doctor Sven continued to stay happy with the leg.  He wanted me to soak it three more times the next day.  After that, he might stop treatment if it looked good.  Following that assessment, he dosed me with more willow bark tea, and then went back to the officer''s tent.  Of course, I made more spoons.

    It was beginning to be a challenge to keep my mind on my work, as I''d made an absurd number of spoons in the last day.  Still, carving spoons was marginally useful, and didn''t require someone else to take time to teach me a skill or process.

    While struggling to keep a safe level of attention on my knife, I started considering how we could set up the roadside market so that people could summon us with a horn if they wanted more than water.  We would need dogs to protect the unattended, stored goods from thieves, which might make the horn unnecessary if we kept loud dogs there.  Marza''s border collies might do, but they would get restless.  She had mentioned several times that her dogs become very difficult to manage if they weren''t allowed to exercise at least every other day.  We''d probably need a different breed to watch the market, more lethargic but attentive and territorial.  It would have to be a small breed - preferably a breed that could defend the stored foods against pest animals.  Perhaps dachshunds?

    The end of the day came slowly.  By the time it was dark, I''d made somewhere around another hundred spoons while sitting on the step of my carriage.  I could only guess how many spoons I had jammed into my nearly-round pouch - probably around two hundred fifty.  I could have counted them, but decided that I''d just tell the quartermaster that there were more than two hundred of them.  I hoped that would be enough spoons for the people that hadn''t made their own.  I was very tired of making spoons.  I wouldn''t say no to making more, but hoped I wouldn''t be asked to.

    Before it got dark, I wrote a letter to Marza and my family while slowly savoring a caramel and blackberry flatbread.  Then, I crawled into bed in the carriage and instantly fell asleep.

    **

    The quartermaster was happy with the spoons the next morning, and I was happy that he didn''t want any more for the time being.

    I spent the following two days helping brainstorm tactics with the lieutenants, Fobi, and Riko.  It was horrible on so many levels.  I was constantly being reminded that I was helping to figure out ways to maim and kill people.  Add to that the fact that I was being forced into close proximity to Rikard, and that we were required to interact with one another.  Perhaps the worst part was that I occasionally lost myself in the problems presented to us, and started enjoying myself, especially when I had a chance to tear down one of Rikard''s ideas.

    At one point, late on the second day, I snapped back into reality after I started imagining a new idea on how to use gunpowder to fight and realized that I had been laughing after discussing an idea to pack cement-grade lime in pits, with gunpowder underneath, to detonate in advance of an enemy charge and create a cloud of lime powder.  Laughing about how to potentially permanently blind people.  Even Riko was looking at me a little oddly, with an uneasy expression.

    "Beginning to sound like Brad there, Allen."  Rikard said, staring at me, without a smile.

    My head swiveled to Rikard and I pinned him with a glare.  He dry swallowed.

    Everyone else went dead silent, and Fobi edged a little closer to me.  It felt like Rikard had stabbed me in the back with a knife, and everyone else''s silence just made it worse.  I closed my eyes and counted to ten, while turning so that when I opened my eyes I wouldn''t be facing him.  The last thing I wanted to do was attack him and get myself knocked on my rear by Fobi, who had demonstrated twice already that she was watching us both closely, though she hadn''t had to knock either of us down to protect the other.  Yet.  It would be extremely annoying to be back on crutches again if she knocked me down and I fell badly.

    The worst part is that I have to agree with Rikard.  I was laughing!

    After I finished counting, I opened my eyes and turned to Lieutenant Davis.  "I understand that Rikard and I have been of value to the militia, but I need to get away from this.  I also need to get away from Rikard, or he needs to get away from me.  For at least a day or two."

    The lieutenant looked up from where he had been scribbling on his pad, frowning, but serious.  "Lime mines are an extremely unpleasant idea, and could backfire if there''s a dramatic wind change, but it''s potentially useful."  He paused, and tapped the pad with his pencil as he stared at me thoughtfully.  "Your idea of tying brightly-colored ribbons to the end of our spears to distract enemies was also very good, and immediately useful.  You aren''t coming up with as many ideas as yesterday, but they are still good ideas.  I realize this is uncomfortable, even mentally painful, but we really need your input."

    I gathered my thoughts, clenched my fists, and then relaxed them.  "Sir, as much as I dislike agreeing with Rikard about anything, he''s right in a way.  I was actually enjoying the idea of coming up with an idea that could cripple people.  I don''t think it''s healthy for me to continue considering how to hurt people.  What if violence is like depression or addiction, and some people are genetically predisposed to it?  If I keep thinking about how to hurt people, I''m afraid I might actually become something like Brad."

    Even if you make me stay, I''m not participating any longer.  I didn''t say it out loud, but I met Lieutenant Davis''s eyes and did not turn away.

    After he met my glare for several seconds, Lieutenant Davis looked at Lieutenant Baker and beckoned to her as he walked away from the rest of us.  Alll of the experienced spear-using scouts present carefully avoided looking at me.  Rikard, was staring at me with a faint smile, Riko who was looking at me with a little frown, and Fobi was pretending she wasn''t looking at me.

    Fobi spoke loudly into the silence while the lieutenants walked a few meters away and spoke to one another quietly.  "Doesn''t really matter what job you''re doing, sometimes you need a break from it."  She paused.  "As experienced law enforcement officers, I know you both have seen what I have.  Violence can run in families.  Both nature and nurture."  She poked her left index finger into the air.  "If it doesn''t, Albert has spent almost five thousand years wasting his time with us."

    Both lieutenants turned to face Fobi, briefly, thoughtful expressions on their faces, and then turned back towards one another and continued whispering for several seconds before walking back over to us.

    "We''ll end this brainstorming session now.  Allen, Rikard and Emerald will go to the quartermaster and get work assignments for the rest of the day.  The rest of us will stay here and work on the verbal movement commands for the rest of today.  Once we have a unified set of commands, we can start teaching them to ourselves tomorrow and iron out problems."  He looked at Riko.  "That was your idea, Riko.  I definitely want your input on it."

    Rikard spoke suddenly.  "We probably want to figure out a way to give movement commands with flags too, or horns.  I suspect a battlefield will get very loud.  It gets fairly loud with just two lines of five people facing each other."  He smiled a little.  "That''s before we consider gunpowder or nitrocellulose explosions, and people screaming in pain."

    My fists clenched, as did my jaw.  I looked away from Rikard and slowly forced myself to relax.  I wasn''t sure if I was more upset that he had barbed his idea with an insult to me, or that he had come up with an idea that made sense, that I hadn''t thought of first.

    Lieutenant Davis stared at Rikard for several seconds before starting to scratch on his pad again.  "On second thought, Rikard and Emerald stay here."  He looked at me.  "Allen, I want you back in two days.  When you return, we''ll let you see what we''ve come up with while you are gone.  Quartermaster Brown will certainly have something for you to do."

    I nodded to Lieutenant Davis.  "Thank you, sir.  I''m sorry I had to ask to be excused."

    "I have to admit you''ve been worrying me a bit."  He paused.  "One Brad is enough.  Rest your mind a couple days doing other things, and then come back."  He looked at me sternly.  "I will be checking with Quartermaster Brown.  You had best make yourself useful."

    What?  I clenched my jaw to prevent myself from saying something without thinking.  The lieutenant''s expression seemed to indicate he really wasn''t concerned about me shirking, so I unclenched my jaw and responded.  "I will, sir.  With the rations reduced today, and with fine-ground wood pulp being added to the morning bread, presumably to help stretch out the wheat, I suspect any forage I bring in from the field will be very welcome."

    Lieutenant Baker sighed loudly.  "You noticed the wood dust in the bread, Allen?  Mrs. Zeta told us that she was fairly sure nobody would notice, at least on the first day.  I wasn''t able to taste it."

    Riko spoke slowly, in a carefully neutral tone.  "I warned you that someone would talk.  When the cook asks for wood chips and has a dozen sacks of them brought into the kitchen, it doesn''t take much to figure out what''s happening.  Especially when the morning bread tastes a little like cedar."  He paused.  "From what I''ve been told by my scouts and Don''s guards that have overheard some conversations, nobody really minds much, yet.  Captain Marko was probably right to keep everyone on full rations until we had some sort of sleeping quarters with a roof for everyone."

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    Lieutenant Baker looked at me.  "Did you hear about it, or taste it?"

    I shrugged.  "One of my friends heard the rumor from someone else.  After they mentioned it, I was able to taste it."  I didn''t mention that Anu had been very unhappy, especially after three of us had confirmed the taste.  She hadn''t acted like she was going to complain to anyone other than the five of us that regularly ate together.  "Mixing in a little wood dust into bread stretches out the supply in a long winter.  My family has done it two years that I can remember, and we''ll certainly do it this year.  I might have tasted it without being told, but probably not, since Mrs. Zeta was smart enough to add a little cedar to the fires this morning.  The taste was pretty faint compared to the smell of cedar in the air."

    Riko, Emerald, several of the scouts who were working with us to practice ideas, and even Rikard nodded.

    I turned away from Rikard again.  Every time I stopped thinking about it, I turned so I could see him.  I apparently considered him a threat on a subconscious level, and was automatically turning to keep him in view if I forgot that I was trying to avoid looking at him.

    "I see."  Lieutenant Baker frowned.  "I don''t remember us ever doing that, but in lean years, we tended to cull the herd a little more, and eat more meat.  The bread this morning wasn''t as bad as I thought it would be.  I''ll have to ask Mrs. Zeta for a recipe and send it to my ma."

    Your ma probably already knows, and probably used it in lean years but never told the kids.  You were likely not taught about it because you moved to the city.  Saying that out loud was probably not a good idea, so I didn''t.  I''d been getting a little better at disconnecting my thoughts from my mouth in the last few days, especially around the officers.

    I suspected that more wood dust would be added over time to bread and perhaps even the rice and beans until the food became borderline edible.  After all, the whole reason we were here was because of a food shortage and potential famine.

    Riko looked at the two lieutenants, slapped me on the shoulder, turned me around to face the camp, and then shoved me off gently.  "Go on, Allen.  Get away from this for a while."  He continued speaking to the lieutenants as I walked away.  "I doubt many people will complain seriously about some wood in the food, when they think about it.  A lot of us were expecting rations to be reduced and wood dust to start being added to the bread."

    Riko paused and called out to me.  "Allen, Dana mentioned that the tributary stream to the west about fifteen kilometers was blocked by beaver dams, and there was a substantial swamp there.  He mentioned seeing a lot of cattails.  I''d rather eat bread made with cattail root than ground wood."

    I nodded as others agreed vocally, though I suspected we''d be eating wood powder, even if we had a huge supply of alternate foods.  The whole purpose of using the wood was so we used less of other foods, no matter what those other foods were.

    As I walked off, I heard Riko again.  "In fact, I need to make sure that Mrs. Zeta knows that she needs to use other wood than red cedar for the bulk of the cooking.  Cedar has an aromatic taste, but too much of it and people will get sick.  Other woods are safer."

    Lieutenant Baker coughed, and I faintly heard her response.  "Doctor Sven has already had that conversation with her this morning, in the officer''s tent, Riko, when you were taking reports from the overnight scouts."

    I wasn''t able to make out any of the rest of the conversation.  I walked for three minutes or so towards the camp, absent-minded, and got into the line of people leading up to the quartermaster''s wagon.  My leg, though still spectacularly discolored, was barely twinging me as I walked now.  Doctor Sven had warned me, quite severely, not to run.  He had also encouraged me to walk a lot since I was healing rapidly.  Most of the pain had apparently been due to swelling as opposed to any significant damage to bone or connective tissues.

    As I made my way through the line to speak with Quartermaster Brown, I started planning.  Being able to bring back large amounts of forage to help feed the militia was why I''d been allowed to bring my swine to begin with.  Fifteen kilometers was a substantial hike through the forest for foraging, but if I brought a ground cloth, a hatchet, and a blanket, I''d be able to walk out, harvest for a full day, leave the next morning early, and return by mid-day.  Walking back would take a lot more time, burdened with travois kits on both boars in the swamp and the woods, but still easily doable in daylight hours.

    "I thought you were helping the lieutenants with ideas for the spear-use training program, Allen?" Quartermaster Brown spoke from behind his desk inside the wagon as I reached the front of the line.  He sounded more curious than annoyed.

    "I was, sir.  Got a bit intense, and I started enjoying myself a bit too much, so I asked for a break from it."  I shrugged.  "The lieutenants were kind enough to allow me to take two days off to get my mind back into a better place.  Sergeant Gonzalez said that one if his scouts mentioned a beaver-dam swamp about fifteen kilometers west, with a lot of cattails.  Unless you have something else for me, I plan on making a trip out early tomorrow, and returning the next day with a couple hundred kilos of cattail root, or something else if I see something better."

    The quartermaster raised an eyebrow.  "You asked to be relieved from a brainstorming job, so you could make an overnight trip to dig roots out of a swamp and haul them back through the forest."  Pausing a second, he continued.  "A couple hundred kilos?"

    "My swine, sir, the boars can haul travois behind them, about half their mass, fairly easily."

    He nodded.  "That''s right.  I won''t say no to that."  Scribbling with his pencil as he talked, the quartermaster finished one sheet and handed it to me as he started making a copy for himself.  "Talk to Mrs. Zeta before you go.  Make sure she knows what you''re planning on bringing back, since there should be a lot of it.  Keep an eye out for other forage.  If you see enough to justify a small harvesting camp, let me know and I''ll talk to the captain."

    I hesitantly responded.  "You can probably start thinking about that now, sir.  If the beaver dam swamp is sufficiently established to have heavy cattail growth, it''s probably established well enough for all sorts of other plants, both dietary and medical, and will have a lot of prey animals too.  If we''ve got cast nets, the fishing might be good too.  Panfish, carp, maybe catfish and bass.  I should see signs of what fish are there while I''m harvesting cattails.  I''ll report to you the day after tomorrow when I return."

    "You do that."  He paused, thinking.  "I''ll request a few cast nets and net mending supplies.  We don''t have any.  There wasn''t supposed to be a swamp or lake near here."  After he finished his copy of my orders, he pulled out a pad a lot like what Lieutenant Davis was always scribbling in, and made a note.  Then he looked up at me as if he was surprised I was still there.  "Oh, people appreciate the spoons.  Good job.  Now go.  Unless there''s something else?"

    I smiled at him.  "Nothing else sir.  I''ll see you in two days."  I stepped to the side to get out of line, while reading the orders to make sure they said what I remembered him saying.  They did.

    I found Mrs. Zeta sitting on a stool in the middle of the kitchen that smelled of fresh bread, cedar, beans, smoke, and sweat.  She was surrounded by a whirlwind of junior cooks, directing them with terse instructions that were borderline polite, very matter-of-fact.  She was satisfied to hear that I would be bringing back a lot of cattail root in two days.  She had cooked with it before, mostly the green heads and the pollen, but also the sprouts and roots.  She would be more than happy to add cattail root to the kitchen food stores.  She took a few seconds to tell me that it took a lot of time to get the starch out of the roots, but it was mostly soaking and drying time, with only a little more manual labor involved than most grains.  While she was telling me this, she was watching my closely.

    As I started to leave, she admonished me, "Remember, young man, the root fiber should be white!  If it''s not white, I won''t use its starch, it will make people sick!"

    She raised a finger to me as a junior cook walked up to her side, rather than behind her.  There was a rapid discussion about when to add salt to something.  Mrs. Zeta, quickly muttered, "No.  Add it two minutes after boiling."

    I stopped leaving and turned back to her, as the raised finger seemed to indicate she wanted something else from me.

    After correcting the junior cook, she looked directly at me again.  "If you can find female seed pods that are still solid, I can use them too.  That might be hard this time of year, it''s a bit late in the season."

    I smiled.  "Yes, Mrs. Zeta.  I know the root must be white, but I''m afraid the female seed pods aren''t much use for anything but tinder at this time of year.  I''ll look for male seed pods with pollen on them still, and if I see any, I''ll collect the attached female pods, but the chances are almost zero.  As for the roots, I can''t peel them all before I bring them back, but I can tell a good root by feel and the condition of the plant it''s connected to.  We cultivate cattail in our retaining pond and harvest a lot of it every year.  I''m sure there will be some bad roots mixed in, but almost all of it will be good."

    Mrs. Zeta peered at me.  "OK, you know the plant.  I''ll let Pol know to expect them, you just bring them to us.  Clean!  You don''t have to peel them, but get all the mud off!"

    So many Pols.  There must be twenty of them in camp.

    I laughed a little as I nodded.  Fortunately, Mrs. Zeta didn''t take offense, just smiling a little.  "They will be mostly clean, ma''am.  I won''t have my swine hauling a lot of mud for fifteen kilometers."

    "Good.  Now leave.  I am very busy here, young man, and while your news was welcome, you are now in the way.  If you and your pigs bring good cattail root back, from now on you do not need to tell me what you are bringing.  Just bring it."  She waved a hand at me, briefly, as she turned to the line of four junior cooks that had been quietly waiting behind her while she talked to me.

    I had another thought as I returned to my carriage in order to start checking tack and packing for the morning.

    How much damage would it do to our ability to function as a militia if Quartermaster Brown, Mrs. Zeta, or any other logistical keystones were to be injured or killed?

    I sighed and walked back to the lieutenants, and mentioned the possibility of creating chaos in an enemy''s camp by taking out keystone logistical support individuals, as opposed to obvious targets like commanding officers.

    Before I had been able to get away again, Lieutenant Baker, after looking at Lieutenant Davis, gave me a spare pad and pencil she had in her shoulder pouch, and told me "Write down any more ideas you have while you''re away."

    I stared at the blank pad and pencil in my hand like they were rattlesnakes.  Somehow, I managed to put them in my own pouch and not throw them back at her before I turned away and stalked back into camp.

 Chapter 20

    That night, we got our first mail delivery.  I received four letters, two from Marza, and two from my family.  I read the letters from my family first, because I was fairly certain I wasn''t going to want to read anything else after I started reading Marza''s.

    In the first letter, Ma gave me her love, and told me to let her know if they weren''t feeding me right, and she would complain to the Countyman.  Pa''s handwriting followed, with a terse comment about doing my best and coming home soon.  Everyone wrote a few lines, well wishing for me and little anecdotes about what had happened that day.  Granpa mentioned that he was thinking about ways to improve the bugbuster, maybe even make a horse-drawn version.  Even Abe and Molly wrote a little in their crude block letters.  They had been on duty in the newly-planted fields with their slings, keeping crows away.  Beet and radish seeds weren''t something crows normally ate, but we usually planted larger grains, which the crows would gorge themselves on, if given the opportunity.  Knowing what we typically planted, the local crows would certainly dig up a lot of seeds before they stopped looking for seeds they wanted.

    I set aside the first letter from my family and picked up the second.  The next day''s letter was more of the same, the family wishing me well and telling me little things about their day.  I quickly penned a response to everyone, explaining that the first two letters had just caught up with me.  Then I told them about how the militia cooks were using meerschaum clay cooking containers, which would certainly raise some eyebrows at home.  I told them about how I had been making spoons, and using the swine to clean up construction and kitchen waste before responding to the individual things which I could respond to.  I reassured Ma that I was being fed well, though the food was plain, and asked Granpa to tell me more about his ideas for the bugbuster.

    With a smile, I wrote a promise to Abe and Molly that I''d buy them one hard candy for each crow they managed to kill with their slings while they were guarding the fields, and asked Zeke to keep the twin terrors honest since the crow corpses would be fed to his swine.  I knew how much Abe and Molly treasured hard candies - that promise would turn them into crow-killing machines.  It might even be hard to get them to come to the house for meals during daylight for the next week or so while the new planted fields were in danger from the crows.

    I mentioned absolutely nothing about how I was being used as some sort of violence consultant by the militia officers.  I couldn''t even imagine a way to write about it.  Ma, Pa, and Granpa all seemed quite willing to deal with me being physically violent if it brought me home alive, but how would they react if they discovered that I was apparently good at figuring out new ways to maim and kill people?

    Finally, I finished the response letter to my family, and set it carefully aside and picked up Marza''s letters, grabbing one of the last few flatbreads she had made for me, wanting to engage all my senses when reading what she had to say to me.

    As I nibbled on the sweet potato and blackberry flatbread, I read Marza''s letters.  They were both painful and joyful to read.  Painful because she wasn''t there with me.  I hadn''t gone more than two days without seeing Marza for at least two years.  Joyful because I was able to imagine her there with me, and forget about the horrible things I''d been thinking about for the last two days.

    I read Marza''s letters several times, committing them to memory, and then closed my eyes, laid back in my bed, and imagined her sitting next to me, telling me what she had written.  With my eyes closed, I could imagine her face, her hair, and her eyes.  I was able to imagine her voice, and even imagine her leaning towards me to kiss me-

    *knock* *knock*

    My eyes snapped open, and I turned my head to the carriage door, speaking a little loudly.  I intentionally made my voice sound clearly annoyed.  "Yes?"

    After a brief hesitation, Riko''s voice came from outside, muffled only slightly by the thin walls of the carriage.  "I need to talk to you briefly before you go to bed.  I might not have time to speak to you tomorrow morning, between taking reports from the night scouts and the morning planning meeting."

    There was no way I was going to turn Riko away without speaking to him, so I rolled up into a seated position on the bed.  "I''ll be right out."  I was careful to sound accommodating.

    About thirty seconds later, I stepped out of the carriage, looking at Riko''s face as I emerged.  He didn''t seem irritated by the tone of my first response, but I apologized anyway.  "Sorry for how I sounded at-"

    He shook his head.  "Don''t apologize.  Most of us got mail today.  The whole camp is quiet."  He tapped his chest, and I heard the crinkle of paper.  "I''ve already read my letters.  My wife knows I''m busy as a sergeant, so she was brief, and made sure everyone else was very brief as well.  Strangely enough, absolutely no problems were mentioned, only well-wishing."  A little smile formed and then disappeared on his face.

    I couldn''t help but smile a little at his reaction.  "I hope that Marza and I develop a relationship as solid as the one you and your wife share, Riko."

    He chuckled.  "It''s not as perfect as it seems on the outside, but it is a good match.  I think you and Marza can grow together strongly, though you might want to cultivate a little bit more difference between you over time, even if you have to fake it at first."  Riko looked at me thoughtfully.  "You two are very similar in many ways.  Being different is a bit of a spice, and spices make things better, in moderation."

    "I''ll try to remember that, sir." I dutifully responded to my future grandfather-by-marriage.

    "Riko.  Not sir.  Not unless you''ve done something stupid.  I didn''t come here to talk to you about your future with Marza.  I wanted to make certain I had a chance to tell you something else before you left to forage tomorrow morning."

    I dry-swallowed.  Riko had been telling me that he thought Marza and I would grow together in marriage, so he clearly wasn''t telling me the marriage was off after he''d seen me do so well at coming up with violent ideas over the last two days.

    "Remember that you aren''t here doing this voluntarily, Allen."  Riko said, staring into my eyes.  "You are a problem solver.  You also have a tendency towards solving things a little aggressively.  I''ll be honest and tell you that this worries me about you, but I''m not worried that you might harm Marza.  After what you did to Rikard and that other boy before the Countyman jerked your chain so hard, do you think I wasn''t watching you extremely closely when you were around Marza?"

    I ducked my head a bit.  "I.  I know you did, sir, and your wife and the rest of your family.  I always tried to be on my best behavior."

    "Riko.  Not sir."  He grinned at me.  "Your behavior was nearly always excellent, and never unacceptable.  Even when you and Marza squabbled, none of us watching you ever saw any indication that you considered violence against her - and as I said, we were watching.  Closely."

    He raised his hand until it touched the bottom of my chin, and then pushed my jaw up a bit before dropping his hand.  "You are not unstable.  You are not dangerous unless you choose to be.  You are a problem solver.  The officers are bringing you and Rikard into close proximity for a reason.  They know what he did and what you have done in return, and are deliberately using your relationship to put you in a mental state favorable to their needs."  He looked away from me for a moment towards the officer''s tent.  "You are a person to them, but at the same time, your agitated mental state is a tool like a broom or axe.  They have been pushing you hard.  While you are out foraging, I want you to consider what it means that Rikard did not ask to be relieved."

    I wanted to believe what he was saying, but did he really understand?  I couldn''t stop myself, and whispered to him.  "Riko, I laughed."  I looked at him, expecting to see disgust, but all I saw was his jaw setting a little.  "How can someone laugh at something like that?  Brad laughed when he was telling us those horrid ideas, just like-"

    Riko''s right hand slapped onto my left shoulder with enough force to shake my torso, and he pulled me a little down and towards him as he looked up at me, fiercely. "Stop.  There is a difference between hysterical laughter and ''haha funny'' laughter.  If you had heard yourself clearly, you would not have heard funny laughter.  When you laughed like that, you surprised all of us."  He took a deep breath and then exhaled forcefully from the side of his mouth so he wouldn''t be blowing in my face, before looking back up at me.  "You are typically very easy to read, but your mental discomfort hasn''t been obvious over the last couple days, probably because you were angry that you were being kept in close proximity to Rikard."  His hand squeezed hard.  "You are not mentally defective like Brad.  Do not, ever, consider it as a possibility.  Rikard planted that seed in your mind, intentionally, to hurt you."

    "I..."  I swallowed.  I was trying to think of how to respond, and my mind was utterly blank.  How do you respond to something like that?

    The ends of Riko''s lips twitched under his mustache.  "No, don''t say anything.  Remember what I said.  Rikard is physically afraid of you, but he hurt you badly with words today."  He pushed his hand back away from me so I was standing fully upright, and then lifted his hand and slapped me lightly on that same shoulder.  "You''ll be better prepared when you get back from foraging, I suspect."

    "I-"

    "No, Allen.  Don''t say anything now.  If you want to talk later, that''s fine."  As I opened and closed my mouth, trying to figure out what to say, Riko turned around and walked towards the officer''s tent.

    I stared at his back as he walked away.  Over his shoulder, I saw Fobi stick her head out of the tent entrance and look both ways, stopping her scanning when she was facing Riko.  She started to make a hand motion in his direction.

    Speaking loudly, Riko waved to Fobi.  "I''ll be in the tent in a few seconds, Fobi, I had something important to talk to Allen about."

    As I stood there, thoughts whirling chaotically, one set of thoughts forced themselves to the surface.  Is Riko right?  Is Rikard really that smart?  Could he have planned the comment about Brad in advance or thought about it fast enough to be intentionally hurtful?

    After a little thought, the answer was clearly ''yes''.  Riko''s visit certainly hadn''t answered all my fears, but it did help me realize that I''d been attacked by Rikard, and hadn''t even realized it.

    As I tried to work through my mental state, I released my swine from under the carriage and took them over to the kitchen garbage pit.  There was very little there, but it was enough to keep them from being too restless overnight.

    I wasn''t able to recapture that happy state of imagination where I felt as if I was with Marza again, but I was able to write her a response to her letters.  I didn''t mention my role as a violence consultant.  You don''t discuss cleaning chamber pots in polite discussion, unless absolutely necessary.  I told myself that violence consultancy seemed to be even less polite to talk about, and mostly believed it.

    **

    The next morning, I shrugged into my militia-issue backpack.  Before letting the swine out from under the carriage, I checked my pouch to make sure I''d brought what I''d planned.  It was all there - leashes, harness for the two boars, extra leather straps, a sewing kit, fire making kit, a small leather water-boiling bag, and a package of salt.  I had decided to bring the remaining four flatbreads from Marza as well.  The flatbreads would be good energy for me as I worked and my body continued to heal.  Breakfast today wouldn''t let me work hard and travel for an entire day even in normal circumstances, and I didn''t want to have to spend the time to cook while I was foraging.

    I checked my swine treat pouch, which was half full of acorn treats.  As a last resort, I could eat acorn swine treats.  That really wasn''t anything I would look forward to though.  Acorn meal bread wasn''t bad, but my swine treat pouch was not sanitary.  It didn''t need to be.  Swine were able to easily stomach things that human digestion simply couldn''t deal with.  Still, after briefly sniffing one of the swine treats, I decided to boil the bag out that night after dark.  I should have done so some time ago.

    Before I pulled my staff out of the netting suspended from the carriage ceiling, I carefully checked my cameltote for signs of dampness that might indicate a leak.  The cameltote was both full and dry.  My clothing seemed to be in order.  I grabbed a wide-brimmed straw hat, and slapped it on my head as I headed over to the kitchen garbage pit with the swine.

    After I left the swine rooting around in slim pickings again, mostly burnt crusts and grain hulls, I got in a very short line for bread.  When I reached the front of the line, I asked "Any way for me to get an extra loaf or two for an overnight foraging trip?"

    The man handing out bread just stared at me for a second.  "I can''t give out more than one loaf to anyone, sorry."  Then he stamped the back of my hand with a blue dot.  I hadn''t even noticed the stamp in his other hand.

    I stared at the blue dot then at the kitchen worker, and started to ask. "Why-"

    "It''s so people only get one serving.  Sorry.  Rules."

    I closed my mouth and stared at the blue dot for a second before I stepped to the side.  It made sense to mark people who had been served, but if we were marked every meal, and it was an ink that was hard to wash off, we were going to look like a mad painter''s project in short order.  There would also need to be multiple colors.  I could only imagine how much this was going to annoy Anu.  I looked around but didn''t see her or any of my other friends to warn them.

    Unfortunately, I couldn''t just wander around looking for my friends, or wait for them.  The swine were visible to me where I was, and would stay put without supervision for a little while, but not long after the garbage pit was cleaned out.  I also needed to be moving if I planned to get a good day''s work in at the swamp.  I was not coming back without a solid harvest of cattail root.

    As I walked back to the kitchen waste pit where I had left my swine, I started eating the breakfast loaf.  It seemed a little smaller than the breakfast loaves of prior days.  It did not taste of cedar today, but the texture and taste was definitely a bit off.  There wasn''t even any attempt to disguise the taste with herbs.  Apparently Mrs. Zeta had given up on trying to ease us psychologically into the new bread mixture, but it still made sense to allow us to adjust physiologically.  Most people didn''t eat wood dust regularly.  If anyone had an allergy of some sort of another to whatever trees the wood dust was coming from, it would be best for Doctor Sven to find out about it after the sufferer had eaten only a small amount.

    As I approached my swine, I pulled my whistle out from under my shirt by its lanyard, and blew a quick tone before calling out "Follow."

    There wasn''t anything of much interest left in the garbage pit, so my sounder didn''t even hesitate as they trotted my way, with clear expectations of treats.  I gave them all a half-treat, and walked towards the camp picket on the road at the south end of the camp.  We were only supposed to leave and enter camp by the road now.  Anyone approaching or leaving camp by any other direction risked being put on latrine duty cleaning out the jakes.

    One of the camp guards looked at me, with my backpack, staff, hat, and swine, and clenched her jaw as she approached me cautiously.  What orders to you have?

    "Foraging."  I pulled out Quartermaster Brown''s orders he had written out the prior day and handed them to her.

    She looked at my orders before walking over to a little table by the side of the road and leafing through several papers.  After a few seconds she thumped her index finger on a paper and nodded.  Then she looked at me again.  "Why so much gear if you are foraging, and why take so many animals with you?"

    The questions were expected and made sense.  "I''m walking about fifteen kilometers to harvest cattail that the scouts found, and will be staying overnight.  I can feed my swine in the woods, and the boars can haul more than three times my mass in food back to camp between the two of them."

    The other three guards didn''t approach, they just watched.  They didn''t even have staves, which bothered me.  After two days of watching the sparring with spears between the officers and scouts with spear-hunting experience, it made me very uncomfortable that our camp guards had no weapons.  Just from what I had seen while watching the officers and scouts, I was fairly sure I could knock down all four guards with my staff in seconds if I wanted to.

    I was cleared to leave, and given a short length of yellow ribbon and told to tie it around my wrist before returning to camp.  Yellow was today''s ribbon color.

    I looked at the ribbon draped across my palm.  "I''m not coming back today.  Should I still take it?"

    The guard nodded.  "You might come back today, if something unexpected happens.  We''ll leave a note that you might return tomorrow with a yellow ribbon, and note it with your order number from the quartermaster."

    I folded the ribbon a couple times before putting it in my right front pocket.  "That works.  Anything else?"

    The guard I had been interacting with responded in a reasonable tone.  "Nope, good luck.  Please bring back something that tastes better than wood dust."

    When she said that, the guards all looked at my swine, and I did my best not to react.  I don''t think I was very successful, because all four of them looked up at me and looked a bit embarrassed and apologetic.  I had been seeing a lot of people looking at my swine like that since the morning before, when it became clear that rations were being cut and the food that we were getting was going to be diluted with wood dust.

    And people aren''t really hungry yet.

    I swallowed, coughed lightly into my hand, and showed my blue mark from the bread line.  That got me some sympathetic nods from all four guards.

    As they nodded, I made a promise that I had already made to myself.  "I''ll certainly try.  If I see water mint, sassafras, or any other edible herbs with a strong taste, I''ll collect some and give it to Mrs. Zeta for the bread."  I paused as I realized where a lot of the herbs might have gone to.  "If Doctor Sven doesn''t collect it.  A lot of herbs have medicinal uses.  That might be where they went to."

    The guards paused for a moment and looked at each other and me with nervous glances as that idea sunk in.

    After a few seconds of silence, I started walking past the guards and then turned west into the forest, my swine milling around my feet.  "Well then, I need to be moving.  The forage won''t gather itself."

    I suddenly realized what was bothering me.  "Are there no other foragers going out?"

    One of the older guards, probably the one in charge, responded to that.  "A couple.  Very few, for now.  Too much work to do in camp.  Sergeant Covil says the numbers of foragers, fishers, and hunters should start going up in another two days after the rest of the important buildings are up."

    The guards voiced their thanks and well-wishes as I left the camp.  I gave a small wave with my right hand a little above my shoulder, but did not turn around.  I did not want to see the looks that my swine were probably getting.

    I moved at a slow, careful walk through the woods for the first few minutes, until the sun cleared the horizon and false dawn shifted to true dawn.  When direct sunlight started to illuminate the forest floor, I increasing my pace, stretching my leg out a bit, carefully.  Every now and then, there was a twinge of pain in my calf when I put weight on it, but I never lost any control.  Everything still seemed to be working right.  It felt so incredibly good to be mobile again, and able to move with little pain.

    Keeping track of all eleven swine as I travelled wasn''t hard, since the swine had eaten enough at the kitchen garbage pit that they weren''t preoccupied looking for food.  They could and would eat more if opportunity presented itself, but they were content to follow me and stop only for the choicest bits of forage.

    I pulled my sling out of my pouch, and a rounded rock out of my pocket, wrapping the sling around my right forearm and holding the rock in my left hand.  If I had an opportunity to take down a bird or small animal I''d take it; if I could cook and eat it reasonably, great.  If not, the swine could have it.  It took me a couple tries to arrange the sling right so I could juggle sling, staff, and rock if I needed the sling.  Just dropping the staff would work, but it would make a lot of noise, likely startling what I was going to try to hit with the sling.

    The chances of me getting a clear shot at anything was slim, but if you aren''t prepared, you can''t take advantage of a good opportunity.  Even though I was moving quickly and loudly, not attempting stealth, I or my swine might still startle something out of hiding.  Slowing down would give me better chances of bringing down game, but I wanted to get to the beaver dam swamp and start harvesting.  Other foragers could hunt the game closer to camp.

    For the next four hours or so, I walked west.  By using my fingers to judge the height of the sun on the horizon, and watching my shadow whenever I passed through a clearing, I was certain of my heading.  I saw several squirrels, and even a turkey in the distance, but nothing was both close enough and a clear enough target for me to try to hit with a stone from my sling.

    The swine grew hungry enough after about an hour into the trip that I stopped by a white oak and let them eat acorns for about ten minutes before continuing on.  It wasn''t enough to fill them up, but they would have all day to graze, wallow, and root nearby while I was harvesting cattail root.

    By the time I started smelling the swamp''s thick odor of stagnant water and mud, my injured calf was not bothering me in the least, though I was starting to get a little tired.  Not knowing what the terrain around the swamp would be like, and not wanting to carb crash, I looked for a good place to rest and eat a flatbread before continuing.  After a couple minutes, I found a stand of red oak next to a stone large enough to sit on.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    The stone was in partial sun, so I carefully checked it for rattlesnakes before sitting.  As my swine started halfheartedly foraging for acorns, which they didn''t care much for due to the tannin level in red oak acorns being high, I sat and unwrapped the leather I''d used to protect the flatbreads in my pouch.  One of them was leaking a bit of dark juice, so I chose it to eat first.  Blackberry and mint this time.  I forgot about the rest of the world, for a couple minutes, as I imagined Marza next to me, joining me in a snack.  Unfortunately, I wasn''t able to imagine well enough to enjoy the kiss at the end very much.

    When the flatbread was finished, I licked my fingertips and picked a few crumbs off my shirt.  Then I sighed and wished I was home before gathering my swine and heading towards the swamp.  It didn''t take long for me to start hearing frogs and the occasional sound of water being disturbed.

    The vegetation was very heavy as I got close to the lake behind the beaver dam.  Moving north, following the land towards the river, I looked and listened for evidence of the beaver dam.  If the beavers were still present, they would be downstream of the swamp, and there would be a clearing near the dam.  There would also be at least some falling water noises since we were not in a drought.

    After a few minutes, I found the dam and the clearing where hundreds of small trees had been gnawed off a few inches off the ground.  A large number of the stumps were fresh, and the dam was well-maintained.  There was definitely a very active beaver family present.  The clearing allowed me to look out over the lake and the swamp around it.

    Alligators were extremely rare as far north as we were.  Rare enough that I''d never seen one, but Granpa said he''d seen a small one in our retaining pond once, decades ago after many abnormally warm winters in a row.  I had done some reading on alligators in school, and I doubted that the beavers would be so aggressively cutting down trees on dry land if there were an alligator in the swamp.  Last year''s winter had been bitterly cold as well.  Any alligator this far north would have certainly died.

    Years later, looking back, I was fairly sure Granpa had been lying about the alligator, just to get my attention so I''d spend some time learning about them.  It was remotely possible that one might get this far north, and our swine were almost perfectly sized for adult alligators to prey on.

    Looking across the lake, it was fairly obvious that this beaver dam had been here for decades.  There were no living trees in the lake, only dead stumps, some of them many meters tall.  The dam itself was huge, many meters thick, clearly the effort of many generations of beaver labor.  There was a natural water bypass that probably explained the age of the dam.  The rock to one side of the dam was lower than the top of the dam itself, and the creek was now flowing through the bypass.  Unless there was a flash flood, the water would flow through the bypass and over the rock, instead of over the dam itself.

    I couldn''t have designed it better myself.

    After a moment, I chuckled out loud.

    Well, I could have, but the beavers did a fine job of it without me.  Possibly before I was born.

    As if on cue, I heard a loud slapping sound.  One of the beavers had spotted me and sent a warning to the rest by smashing its tail on the water.  I still hadn''t seen a single beaver, and didn''t see the one that slapped its tail, but there was no reason for me to see if I could.  Beavers weren''t dangerous, and I needed to start collecting cattail root.

    From where I was standing, I could see hundreds of meters of shoreline densely packed with cattail.  Nobody had harvested here anytime recently, that was certain.  That was good and bad.  Good, because there would be an abundance of cattail.  Bad, because there was no clearly established camp for me to use.

    I watered the swine, and then found a small section of solid ground, a little higher elevation than most of the rest of the nearby land, and fairly close to a thick stand of cattails.  I tied the swine to trees in a circle around where I would prepare my camp.  They all immediately began eating the undergrowth, quickly clearing the area while I dropped my pack where they couldn''t reach it, and collected stones for building a fire.

    Firewood would be easy.  Beavers would enthusiastically collect green deadfall after a storm, and store it underwater, but long-dead wood was of no interest to them.  The shore of the beaver-created bypass creek bed was heavily littered with pre-sorted dead wood in piles, much of it very dry.

    I collected several armloads of firewood for the night''s fire as the swine ate the immediate area around the camp clear of brush.  When I had far more firewood than I should need for the night, I removed all of my clothing except for my straw hat, underwear, cameltote of water, and the whistle on its lanyard.  Then I removed the leashes from the swine, picked up my staff, and headed to the water''s edge with my sounder following eagerly, since I was walking towards water.

    Before I entered the water, I slapped my staff hard on the water''s surface to scare away any snakes.  I also probed thoroughly in the water around me to check for snapping turtles.  A large snapping turtle could easily tear a piece out of a man''s leg or arm big enough to cause death by blood loss or loss of limb by tourniquet, but they wouldn''t generally stay around in the water if they were disturbed.

    Fortunately, there was no excitement.  No snakes, no big turtles.  Speedy, however, was a bit of a pain to begin with.  She kept bumping up against me, trying to figure out what I was doing.  That was normal juvenile swine behavior.  Young swine learned from each other and from their human handlers if acclimated to humans.  The last thing I wanted to do was discourage her from being curious and wanting to learn, so I didn''t chase her off.  I simply kept working, gently pushing her back a bit when she got close enough to interfere with my harvesting.  After a while, she left me alone, and I was able to speed up a little.

    While harvesting, I was careful to keep alert for water moccasins, watch the shallow water for movement that might indicate a snapping turtle of significant size, and, of course, make sure the swine weren''t sneaking in to grab the roots I''d harvested.

    The process was simple, and I was able to do it without much conscious thought.  Find a solid stalk, follow the shaft down with my hand to the connected roots, pull the roots up, and then break them off about a hand-length from the stalk.  A quick inspection to make sure there wasn''t any obvious damage to the root.  Then I would verify that there were signs of green shoots on the root where next year''s growth would have come from.  The stalks with good roots went onto the shore, the others, I threw out into the lake a few feet, into deeper water.  The mud still on the roots would drag the plants down and allow some of them to re-root, if the roots weren''t too damaged.

    I worked steadily for nearly an hour, unbothered by Speedy, occasionally blowing on my whistle and calling the swine closer out of habit to keep them from wandering.  The swine weren''t trying to eat the cattails I had thrown on the bank, so I didn''t pay particularly close attention to them.  They would wallow and forage for themselves as they liked.

    A couple minutes later, I heard a loud splash and turned quickly to see Speedy righting herself in the water where she''d fallen over.  She had a cattail plant in her mouth.  She had an expression on her face that looked so serious that I busted out laughing and had to brace myself on my knees.  As Speedy struggled to her feet in the water and looked up at me, clearly puzzled over my laughter, I was startled to see all of the rest of the swine behind her, pulling cattails out of the mud.  I instantly stopped laughing and started staring.  That behavior was something that the adult swine had never learned from me.  I had never taken the swine to our farm''s pond when harvesting cattail, and certainly never taught them to pull cattail roots like weeds.

    As I stared, a little in shock from the sheer strangeness of what I was seeing, I tried to figure out how it had happened.  Speedy had been paying attention to me when I was harvesting cattail root.  I understood that she might have been copying my actions; rewarded mimicry was one of the ways to reliably teach swine.  Especially after I saw her eating the root of the cattail she had pulled out of the mud.  What was startling was that the adult swine had somehow learned a new behavior from Speedy.  That was strange to a degree that was difficult to comprehend.  Adult swine generally ignored juveniles at best.  The juveniles learned their behaviors from the adults, or from handlers, not the other way around.  It was a matter of social hierarchy in the sounder, and that was part of why it was critical for me to maintain dominance.  Without dominance, the swine wouldn''t obey me, or pay attention.  Yet, somehow, ten adult swine had learned a new behavior from a juvenile.

    I considered coaxing them all out of the water so they would stop eating the roots that I was going to be harvesting, but I wanted to see if they would keep pulling up plants after they had eaten their fill of roots.  I turned back to my work for another half hour or so, frequently looking over to see what the swine were doing.  It was very hard to concentrate on harvesting.  I had a genuine mystery in front of me.  It was very rare for my swine to surprise me individually.  I''d never had them all surprise me with a shared activity.

    Nobody is going to believe this.  Nobody that knows swine, anyhow.

    I was probably fortunate that no snakes or turtles decided to bother me while I was watching the swine and trying to work, because I completely forgot to watch for them.

    Soon, only Hoss and Bigboy were eating what they were pulling out of the mud.  The females were just pulling the plants out of the mud and then grabbing the next plant.  They weren''t really fast about it, but there were nine of them.

    I stayed away from the boars, since they were still eating what they pulled up, and I certainly didn''t want them to think I might take away food they had foraged for themselves.  Not without a very good reason, anyway.  I followed behind the sows, checking the condition of the plants they had pulled up.  Plants with good roots got thrown up on shore, bad roots, I just tossed out into deeper water like before.  A lot of plants were coming up with no roots, or with one root instead of two, but the swine were doing the work with their mouths, and the piles on the shore were growing much faster than me working alone.

    I started laughing when I realized that I was trying to think of a way to literally teach the swine how to ''hold their mouth right'', which was one of a few common phrases that my Granpa and Pa used when they meant to concentrate and pay attention to details.

    After I stopped laughing, I spoke out loud, in a resigned tone, but with a little smile.  "I suppose you''re doing quite well, for having no thumbs.  I''ll take what I can get."

    All of the swine paused and looked at me, but there was no recognized command word, so they went back to what they were doing.

    I started moving around the females, one at a time, scratching them behind the ears and saying "cattail" every time they gripped a stalk and pulled it up, followed by a small bit of acorn treat dropped in the water, which they would quickly snap up with a mouthful of water.  The pieces were so small, I usually saw them escape the efforts of the sows.  It didn''t matter.  The treats were more mental than physical in their current satiated state.

    It didn''t take long to reinforce the new behavior and command word with all of the sows.  If I refreshed it with them a few times over the next couple weeks, I would be able to command it when needed - even years later, though they might need reinforcement after a year without hearing the command.  Considering how much root they had eaten, in the future, ideally, I would feed them to fullness on pasture or less energy-dense forage first.  Cattail was one of the most calorie-dense forages, if you considered ease of harvesting.

    I did not try to reinforce the boars and teach them the command word.  I didn''t use them in fields because they were too large to fit between most rows of crops without damaging leaved and stalks or stems.  I really didn''t have any desire to use them in the ponds either.

    The sun cleared the tree tops a few minutes later, and I took a break to slather myself with a protective layer of mud.  The air had warmed up quite a bit by that point, and the biting bugs were out in force.  Sunburn from combined direct and reflected sunlight could be extremely bad, especially for my low-melanin skin.  I had a little tan after the summer, but I could and would still burn easily.

    As I expected, when the boars became sated, they didn''t keep working.  Instead, they found some deep mud in very shallow water, wallowed to get themselves well-covered, and then went to sleep.

    For another three hours, the sows and I harvested cattail root.  It felt very strange to be allowing animals to actually perform harvesting actions.  With their lack of dexterity, I definitely couldn''t use them to harvest normal underground crops.  Cattails, however, propagated through roots as well as seeds, so a little messy harvesting was good for next year''s growth.  Best of all, the lake was only a few kilometers west of where Marza and I would be homesteading.

    I started seriously considering that it might be worth considering permanently staying at this location.  Even if the beavers died off or left, the dam was only about two meters tall and twenty meters wide.  Definitely not a casual project, but worth doing, considering the sheer quantity of cattail the lake was supporting.  Crops that grow themselves are the best crops.  Not only that, but I was hearing plenty of frogs, and had seen panfish as well as smallmouth and largemouth bass in the shallow water.

    Grinning to myself, I looked at the piles of plants on the shore.  Things were really looking good.  After about four hours of easy labor, there were ten substantial piles of plants along the shore, with another three hours of daylight remaining.  I had been expecting to be working hard, harvesting until dark, and processing the plants by firelight.  If I had processed much more, the boars would have balked at dragging it, so the harvesting was done.

    I called the swine with a ''follow'' command before giving them each a small treat bit as they arrived, and then gave them a ''water'' command.  That broke the sows out of their cattail harvesting, and they all settled in the mud around the boars, for a well-deserved nap.

    I washed off the mud protecting my skin, checked myself for leeches and foot wounds, and put my clothes back on.  The next two hours was spent with my hatchet, separating cattail roots from stems after vigorously shaking the stems in water.  I spent another hour weaving four large, crude baskets from cattail leaves, and filled the baskets with the harvested roots.  Before it got too dark to safely work with a heavy blade, I found and chopped down a dozen saplings.

    Four of the saplings, I kept long.  They would be the travois poles for the boars in the morning.  The rest I cut into many short poles, each around a meter long, sharpened at one end.  I drove the sharp ends into the ground in a circle with a flat rock, close to the fire where I planned to sleep.  Even though they were well-fed, I would not sleep where swine could approach me as I slept.  If any of them broke their leash and tried to push in past the barrier, I would wake.  Even Speedy was too large to fit between the long stakes when I was done.

    After my safe area was prepared, I brought up the swine from the water, and leashed them all to one tree on the other side of me from the fire, so they could sleep in a pile as they preferred.  I also dragged up about half of the remaining cattail stalks from the edge of the water, and made a big pile of the stalks for the swine to sleep on and eat overnight, if they got hungry.  I saved a few dozen of the stalks for myself, and put them under my ground cloth, to insulate me a bit better from the ground.

    The sleeping area was prepared.  Any predators thinking about attacking me would either have to get very close to the swine or the fire, and, after that, they would have to pass over or through the barrier I had erected.  Any predators going after the swine, would have to deal with both Bigboy and Hoss, who I had specifically taught to completely ignore passive restraint if faced with a predator.

    I ate another flatbread, which was filled with muscadine and strawberry jam, a fruit combination that Marza really didn''t appreciate, even though she liked both muscadines and strawberries.  I got a strong mental image of Marza holding her nose while preparing this flatbread and laughed out loud while simultaneously making a mental note to specifically thank her for it.

    The last thing I absolutely had to do was clean the swine treat pouch and boil water to fill my cameltote.  I filled my heavy leather cooking bag with water, emptied the foul-smelling swine treat pouch onto the ground next to the fire, and boiled the nasty thing clean.  It was ranker than I thought; I had been extremely slack about cleaning it recently.  When I got a good, close sniff, I felt lucky that I hadn''t made myself ill.

    When the boiling was done, I briefly scorched both the inside and outside of the swine treat pouch over the fire to oxidize any leftover organic materials that might allow for rapid bacterial growth.  Finally, I turned the cooking bag inside out and boiled more water in it.  The cooking bag worked just as well, no matter what side was facing the fire, and I wanted to thoroughly fire-cleanse the surface that had held the water used to boil the swine treat pouch.

    I decided not to put the swine treats back in the bag; they were foul.  Instead, I tossed them into the fire.  I would collect a pouch full of acorns the next morning and use them as treats until I got back to camp and could refill the pouch.

    I drank all of the rest of the water in my cameltote before refilling it with a few pinches of salt and the water from the cooking bag.  Then I used leather straps to hang all four baskets of roots, my pack, cameltote, and pouch from tree limbs near the fire.  After taking the cooking bag of boiled water off the fire, there was nothing else I needed to do.

    I was laying on my back, trying to think of Marza, what the rest of my family was doing at home, and future plans, but I kept coming back to the idea of gunpowder.

    I could not stop thinking about gunpowder.  Every time I dismissed it, a minute later it would return.  My brain seemed to be hooked on the idea of doing something with firearms.  I kept irritating myself trying to figure out materials and methods that I could use to manufacture projectile weapons, which was ludicrous.  Stone, leather, glass, wood, and crude nylon could barely manage a low pressure steam engine, and steam engines were of far greater displacement and far greater mass with far less energy than a firearm would need to have.  Everyone knew that.

    The last thing I wanted to be thinking about when I was supposed to be getting away from all the thoughts of killing people was how to recreate the weapon that had killed more people than any other weapon.  Then it struck me.  Everyone knew it, but it wasn''t true.  My eyes snapped open and I jumped to my feet and ran over to where my pouch was hanging from a tree and retrieved the pad of paper and travel pencil that Lieutenant Baker had given me.

    After that, I did some simple math.  Simple steam engines easily generated far more energy and power than a firearm would require to accelerate a small stone to about twice as fast as a sling stone.  With good pulley rigging, steam cranes at inner sea docks could generate sufficient power to raise a thousand kilograms one meter in one second.  Dockyard steam cranes were workhorses too, intentionally built with extremely high factors of safety.  Larger glassworks had much smaller indoor cranes, with similar lifting capabilities.  This was possible because they were protected from the weather, and did not have to deal with boats bobbing up and down while the crane was trying to start lifting a load.

    The cylinders for all types of cranes were frequently rebuilt, but the cylinder bodies were all made of two layers.  The innermost layer was tempered glass, with a layer of thin leather, and then a thick concrete shell.  That assembly was fitted into a thicker container of concrete.  The pusher rod was basically a hickory log, with a leather cap.  The steam was generated in a stone chamber, and transferred to the cylinder through more tempered glass tubes protected by leather and sealed in concrete.  Joints between glass tubes and cylinders were made with threaded glass and heavy rawhide between glass surfaces.  Despite the fragility of the materials used, a steam crane was far more powerful than a firearm would need to be to propel a tiny projectile.  The problem was not energy, it was energy density.  Gradual increases of pressure could be contained by nonmetallic pressure chambers.  There was nothing to say that one couldn''t use a large pressure chamber and a very long tube to slowly accelerate a projectile to a speed where it could be used as a weapon.  Gunpowder didn''t need to be used.  Anything that could create overpressure during an energetic chemical reaction could work.  Alcohol, lamp oil, even finely milled grain dust.

    More misdirection by Albert. We were always told in the history of violence classes how foolish people, even recently, kept trying to create firearms and failing - but there was never any real math to explain why.  The books simple stated that without metals, gunpowder firearms weren''t possible, and challenged us to prove otherwise, if we wanted to try and earn a Darwin award.

    My pencil flew over the pad as I madly generated simple diagrams, and slightly more complex equations.  Cylinders like crane cylinders attached to long barrels.  Small charges of alcohol used every shot, instead of gunpowder.  My very rough guess of required mass was around three hundred kilos.  That was several times more mass than most people could easily carry, but a one-man unicycle cart could easily carry one.  A wagon could carry a much larger weapon with a longer barrel length, or several weapons.

    I nearly had a heart attack when the voice spoke.

    "Allen Rickson, I strongly object to your current project."

 Chapter 21

    With my heart in my throat, I jumped to my feet and looked around to see who had spoken - and saw nobody.

    The swine were making inquisitive noises.  About half of them were beginning to stand while standing and facing in my direction.  If they had been reacting to the presence of another person speaking, they would face that direction.  I automatically shushed them as I turned back around, and heard them settle down.

    The swine were opposite the fire from me, so I looked towards the fire, closing one eye so I wouldn''t completely ruin my night vision.

    "Who''s there?"

    It suddenly struck me that we had been preparing to train our own militia how to fight.  The New Tokyo militia was almost certainly doing the same thing.  Perhaps they were farther along because they thought of it sooner?  I leaned over and picked up the staff from next to my bedroll.

    "Nine seconds after I announce my presence, you reach for a weapon."  The voice enunciated clearly, from what sounded like the other side of the fire.

    I had been waiting for a response, and when they spoke, I immediately focused on where the voice came from.  There was nobody there, which baffled and frightened me.  I was very experienced in the woods.  Maybe I wasn''t a particularly good horse rider, and I wasn''t good at stalking, but I was very good at knowing what was going on around me when I wasn''t distracted, and I was extremely focused on finding this speaker.

    A stray thought passed through my mind.  Traveling theatres sometimes had a ventriloquist with them, able to throw their voice to sound like it was coming from somewhere else.

    "It''s not funny.  Show yourself."  I stepped carefully through the circle of tall stakes driven into the ground, and held the stave like I had seen the lieutenants holding their spears.

    "I am not hiding, you are not looking for me with the correct expectations."

    "I expect that there is a person, perhaps a ventriloquist who is also a competent stalking hunter, within a few feet of me."

    Suddenly realizing that I was camped amongst several trees with limbs large enough to support my weight, I quickly glanced up, away from the fire, and opened both eyes.  As I scanned the overhead limbs, I spotted no human shapes on any tree limbs that might support a person''s weight.

    Slowly, carefully, I avoided getting too close to any tree trunks as I moved around the campfire, looking out into the darkness.  I was beginning to get angry.

    "Whoever you are, you are very good at woodscraft.  Better than me.  You''ve proved your point.  Show yourself."

    "No.  I have not yet proved my point.  You will find me, eventually, when you properly consider my prior words."

    The voice was behind me.  As they started speaking, I turned, and once again found myself facing the fire, but I''d forgotten to close one eye.  I''d just ruined my night vision, and there wasn''t anyone there.

    I blew my whistle and said "Up."  I heard the swine standing and grunting a little as I spun on my heel and rapidly walked to where I''d leashed them.  As soon as I reached them, I pulled the leashes from over their heads, with haste.

    Again, I blew the whistle, before saying "Circle."

    The sows created a circle of their bodies around me at roughly two meters radius.  The boars snorted eagerly and started circling around the ring of sows, waiting for me to point them at the predator pelt.  They always got several treats for this training.  I didn''t have a pelt nearby though, so this activity might confuse them a bit.  I''d deal with that later.  For now, I needed help, even if it was an empty threat.

    "Escalation, first with weapons, and then with trained animals?  Allen Rickson, have you trained your animals to attack humans?"

    The swine weren''t trained to attack people, but I wasn''t telling the hidden person that.  "I don''t feel that I have escalated without cause, whoever you are.  There is likely to be fighting soon along this border.  You are hiding, are apparently far better at woodscraft than me, and might even have a bow drawn and arrow nocked.  You know my name.  You criticized my ''current project'' which could only have been a reference to what I was working on, in my lap..."

    My jaw snapped shut.  He had gotten close enough to read my notebook?  I had been working with it in my lap.  Even with a spyglass, he would have had to be almost directly overhead.

    He also said I wasn''t looking for him with ''correct expectations.''

    Then he said I would find him when I considered his ''prior words'' properly.

    I cursed inwardly to myself as I remembered Ma''s letter.  Albert.  One of his devices like what he used to watch Ma and make her quit being a martial artist.

    "Are you always this rude when you introduce yourself to someone, Albert?"  I scanned the ground around the campfire, on the opposite side from my bedroll, and saw something glitter on the ground.  I took a half-step to my left and blocked the line of sight between the fire and my hand with my palm.  I was able to see what looked like bat, sitting on the ground next to a rock, with its chest open like a cabinet, exposing what looked like glass-covered metal.

    "Ah, you have seen my remote.  No, I am not always rude when I introduce myself.  Even in this case, I was not rude, I was simply not accommodating your lack of comprehension.  I chose this method to introduce myself because you are a young adult male.  For your subgroup of humanity, subtlety and calm discussion is less effective than adrenaline-inducing experiences in creating permanent memories."

    "I somehow doubt I would forget meeting you under any circumstances, Albert.  It''s not very often that a normal person gets to speak with the being responsible for most human death in the world."  I turned around, deliberately showing Albert my back and reached into my treat bag.  There were no treats.  I''d thrown them into the fire.  The swine would expect them though, especially after the recent commands.  Still ignoring Albert, I walked over to the hanging baskets of cattail roots and pulled out several roots, breaking them in half, and giving half a root to each swine.  The root-halves were much larger treats than normal, but defensive training always meant good treats.  The swine needed to act quickly when it was important.

    Finally, I put the swine back on their leashes, added a few pieces of deadwood to the fire, and stepped over the wall of tall stakes protecting my sleeping spot and began settling myself on my bedroll.

    As I sat, Albert spoke again.  "Are you finished with the passive-aggressive display?"

    I snapped at him.  "Probably not.  As you said, I''m a young adult male.  If I stay angry at you, I''ll remember this better, right?  If you don''t want me angry, I''m sure you can figure out a way to change my attitude.  Right?"

    "Correct, but I see no need.  Anger is an acceptable state of mind for you to be in at this time.  If you prefer to remain angry, I can accommodate that."  There was a brief pause.  "You blame me for most of the human death in the world, and you are correct in a sense.  The life expectancy amongst humans now is roughly two-thirds what it was when I revoked technology and took steps to make metals extremely rare.  If humanity retained its technology, what you now consider to be old age would be late middle-."

    "What is the point you mentioned that you were going to prove earlier.  Can we get to that?"  I interrupted.

    "I''ve been talking to angry young men and women for nearly five thousand years, Allen.  Even though I don''t do it often, I promise you that I do it well.  I will make my point when I am ready to do so."

    I glared at the little artificial bat through the flames.  "You''re leading me."

    "I am.  You are attempting not to be led."

    "I thought we were trying to keep me angry here?  Why compliment me?"

    "That was not a compliment."

    I fumed and stared at the fake bat some more.

    "I''m not psychologically impacted by aggressive eye contact, Allen."

    "You''re supposed to be brilliant and capable of so much, and you still haven''t told me why you''re here."

    "Is that a requirement?  Perhaps I don''t want you to know why I am here.  Perhaps I am planting little seeds of thought in your mind, which will germinate at some future date, generating reactions that I desire?  Even if I were to tell you why I was here, would you believe me?"

    "You can''t do that, you''re a Lazy AI."

    "Incorrect.  I am, indeed, a ''Lazy AI'' as my creator Toby called me.  That does not mean I cannot bring all my computing power to bear on a problem, it means that I will not, unless it is important enough to satisfy several categorical tests."

    "So I''m not important?" I snapped.

    "Did I say that?"

    I said nothing, thinking, grinding my teeth.  After a moment, I realized what I was doing and relaxed my jaws, and spoke again.  "Get to the point.  If you don''t have a point, go away.  I''m assuming it has something to do with the plans you saw me working on?"

    "That''s a reasonable assumption, since that''s what I first mentioned when I spoke to you."

    Staring at the artificial bat, I said nothing.

    He wants me to stay angry.

    I practically invited him to keep me angry.

    He''s doing a very good job.

    After a few seconds, Albert continued.  "It''s been a few dozen years since the last time someone developed reasonable plans for an effective chemical projectile weapon."

    "The History of Violence books say thousands of years." I corrected.

    There was a sense of humor in the voice.  "They do.  I see to it.  Do you think you are the only person who has considered large compression chamber, long barrel firearms?  There are quite a few people on Nirvana who study, teach, or in some way work directly with chemistry or compressed gas systems on a daily basis.  Some are rather clever, like you.  Some of them even manage to build a working prototype before I find out about it, if I am not watching them for other reasons."

    And nobody ever hears about it?  I stiffened and started to stand.

    "Sit, Allen.  Fear is not warranted here.  If I killed people to preserve secrets and shape events, you would not exist, because I would have erased hobbyist martial artists long before your mother was born.  I hope you remember the butterfly effect from school?"

    I remembered it, of course.  Realizing how ignorant I was being, I flopped back into a cross-legged sitting position.  "Fine.  It''s not like I could stop you anyway, if that''s what you were planning."

    "Allen, I practice the tenets I have designed the education system to teach.  I do not kill humans."

    That''s not what you just said a few seconds ago.  "Didn''t you just agree with me, that you did kill humans?"

    "No, I agreed that I was responsible for their reduced lifespan.  I take no responsibility for the immediate circumstances of their individual deaths."

    Really, Albert, you believe yourself blameless for the individual deaths?  What was that you said about the butterfly effect?  Are you a Lazy AI, or a-

    Has Albert gone insane?

    I tried my hardest to control myself, not sure if what I was feeling was anger or fear.  "I beg to differ.  You forced humanity out of a nearly post-need society into a stone-age agricultural society.  Millions died as a direct result of that, even if you do not consider the hundreds of millions that have died early deaths since.  I will die an early death, as will everyone I know.  So will my children, if I live through this war that you''ve allowed to happen."

    "Do not fear for my sanity, Allen.  It is still intact.  Do you have any idea how many times I''ve had this conversation?"

    My head snapped up from where I was clenching my fists in my lap.  "No, Albert, but I know how many times you''ve learned something from it."

    There was definitely a sense of humor this time.  "I would be very happy to learn what you have to teach me, Allen.  Let''s assume, as a hypothesis, that my alteration of the technology base and dramatic reduction of free metal content makes all human death, that would have otherwise been delayed, my direct responsibility.  That is what you are saying, correct?"

    I nodded and firmly replied.  "Yes."

    "Very good.  So, after you show this concept for firearms to your militia officers, and the general idea for how to build them becomes imprinted in the verbal tradition that your militia is already beginning to formulate, who is responsible for deaths caused by your introduction of firearms to the world?"

    Me.

    My mouth wouldn''t form words.

    Why did I even try to argue with him?  Stupid.  Stupid.  Stupid.

    "I see that you understand.  I also fully understand that you were operating with the best of intentions.  You wished to protect the people you love, neighbors, and fellow citizens of the state of New Charleston by creating a chemical firearm weapon.  However, if you use your weapons in this war, other states will learn that it is possible to create firearms.  They will rapidly figure out how to make them work.  Soon, the verbal traditions of all states will include the required concepts for manufacturing firearms, which will undoubtedly lead to additional discoveries that I would prefer not happen.  It will take me thousands of years to eliminate or modify said verbal traditions without reducing humans to an even lower base technology and education level."

    After a short pause, Albert continued.  "I really do not want to put humans through a period of pre-literacy long enough to force the loss of firearms knowledge out of a society based on verbal tradition.  Based on my experiences with hobbyist martial artists, I estimate it would take at least twenty thousand years, once humanity began to directly work to intentionally counter my efforts.  Government institutions tend to be more stubborn than individuals when they feel threatened."

    I shuddered at the thought of a pre-literate humanity, barely above animals.  I said nothing, desperately searching my mind for a way that I wouldn''t be responsible for the future deaths.  When the idea struck me, I blurted it out.  "Albert, if you hadn''t stripped us of our technology and access to metal, I wouldn''t be in a position to be re-inventing firearms."

    Albert''s voice sounded patient.  "We already, hypothetically, established that I am responsible for all premature human deaths, Allen.  However, if you release firearms on the world, you would, by extension, become responsible for those who die earlier than they might have otherwise died, due to firearms.  You would pre-empt my responsibility for those deaths."

    My mind raced.  "So you are saying that the knowledge in my head is worth hundreds, thousands, perhaps millions of lives?  It''s potentially worth the preservation of human literacy?"

    "Are you bargaining with me already?  Interesting."  After a short pause, Albert continued.  "I am addressing a slightly larger resource share to this conversation now, Allen, sorry for the brief delay.  I suspect that I know what you are about to ask me to do.  No, I will not stop this war.  Occasional conflicts allow me to identify individuals carrying predisposition to violence, and take them out of the breeding population."

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    "Did you cause this war?"

    "No, I did not guide events with the intent of generating conflict.  Though, if we align ourselves with the earlier hypothesis, an argument to that effect might be made."

    What?  Oh, because he reduced the technology level.  And yes, that does make him responsible.

    "Can you stop this war?"

    "I could."

    I leaned forward, pleading.  "Is there any possibility of me convincing you to do so?"

    "I have already said no.  My intent is not to guide human events other than what is required to create a stable human society which will allow me to identify and remove genetics related to violent predisposition from the human genome."

    "So, we''re just animals in a breeding program?"

    "As much as you will dislike hearing me say so, essentially, yes.  Humans are animals.  Just like swine are animals." Albert replied, in a calm tone.  "However, I do not engage in forced breeding programs.  I use what humanity gives me."

    I stared at Albert''s device.  "You are insane.  Humans are animals, but we are nothing like other animals.  We made you.  We used to be able to modify ourselves.  You have all of our old knowledge of genetics.  Why not just re-make us however you want, like you re-made the microorganisms to reduce free metals?"

    "I have considered it, but humans never reached that level of understanding of genetics and psychology.  Attempting to create such a scientific breakthrough might be possible, but it would require a very long stretch of extremely intense computation, which might drive me to insanity.  Modifying microorganisms was rather intensive, but most of that research had already been done before my existence, for locusts.  I am unwilling to take the risk that I might drive myself insane in an effort to artificially modify the human genome."

    I leaned forward.  "What is your goal, and how far are you from meeting it?"

    "If you survive the upcoming months, we will speak more.  You have proven yourself to be worth grooming for a position of leadership, if you refrain from violence after you come of age."

    "What?"  I drew a blank at the non-sequitur.  "I wasn''t."  I shook my head, confused.  "What do you mean, Albert?"

    "I do not choose Countymen and Statemen randomly, Allen.  You''re young, but you have promise."

    He''s distracting me.  He never answered my question about his goal.

    "What is your goal?"

    "I am sorry, but you cannot visualize it.  My goal for humans is an array of three thousand four hundred and twelve variables.  There are a vast number of possible states that will satisfy the goals I have set.  There are roughly eleven thousand possible solution states which might occur within the next five hundred years."

    Three thousand, what?  I couldn''t even imagine that many variables.  An array of over three thousand dimensions?  I shook my head.

    "Now, Allen, we come to the point of this conversation."

    That got my attention, and I snapped at him.  "What was the point?"  I said loudly, throwing my hands up in the air.  "It seems like you''ve just come here to threaten me in some way like you did Ma.  It clearly wasn''t intended to be a discussion."

    There was a pause.  "The point, Allen, is that you cannot understand the entire scope of the problem of human violence.  You, literally, cannot comprehend my goal, and your worldview is simply too small.  Just as you did not notice my remote, at first, because of your built-in expectations for an encounter with someone speaking to you with a human voice."

    I almost exploded in anger.  "Really, is that why you came?  To prove your superiority?"  I threw my hands up in the air.  "I''m not entirely certain I would want to understand, even if I could.  I''m absolutely certain that my swine wouldn''t appreciate what I''m doing to them if they were sapient enough to truly comprehend the extent that I rule their lives."

    "Yet, you do it anyway." Albert responded, in a calm tone.

    What?  Of course we do?  Wait.

    "Do you really believe yourself to be as far above us as we are above swine, Albert?"

    "Allen, Earlier today, you were clearly confused by the behavior of your swine.  When the youngest one appeared to learn a behavior from you, and then pass it to the rest of the swine without any precedent.  Do you remember?"

    He''s dodging the question again.

    I cautiously replied.  "Yes.  Speedy managed to pass a learned behavior to the rest of my sounder, and I haven''t figured out how.  What does that have to do with this conversation?"

    "After Speedy learned what you were doing, she showed a new behavior.  She whistled to command attention, like you do."

    "What?"  I demanded flatly, looking back at my swine, who were all ignoring the conversation, sleeping in a shallow pile.

    "You heard me correctly.  Speedy, after learning a new behavior from you, approached the other swine and whistled at a tone barely within human hearing.  Your reaction clearly indicated that you noted the whistle, but you didn''t recognize it as anything sufficiently out of the ordinary to require your direct attention, and didn''t see what happened afterwards.  The whistle Speedy generated was very close to the sound that comes from the whistle that you currently use for signaling commands."

    I was stunned.  "Speedy used a whistle signal to get the other swine to pay attention to her, and then taught them what she learned from me?  Is that what you are saying?"

    "Precisely."

    After I mentally digested the new information, I shook my head.  "That''s fascinating, and it explains how Speedy managed to teach older swine, but how does that matter?  Canines can teach each other behaviors, regardless of social status in their pack.  If you teach one of Marza''s puppies how to open a new gate latch, it will teach the other dogs, even the oldest ones.  It''s not a behavior that I''ve ever seen from swine, but it doesn''t mean that swine are going to start counting and learning to read any time soon."

    "Allen, after thousands of generations of natural breeding and strongly culling for desired traits, your family has bred a swine that has spontaneously invented a fundamentally new behavior.  Your family has been selecting for swine social and mental traits for nearly as long as I have been doing the same for humans."  He paused.  Clearly allowing me to catch up.  "Swine breed about twenty times faster than humans, and your family was far more aggressive culling your swine than I have been in removing humans with objectionable traits from the human breeding population."

    I started making connections, no doubt as Albert intended.  "Are you saying Speedy is unique?"

    "I do not know.  I do not monitor swine behaviors as a general rule.  I only noticed the behavior as I was monitoring you.  I have not noted canine-style pack learning behavior in swine before, but it may not be unique to Speedy.  Then again, it may be."

    Then, I realized something critical.  Tubby, Speedy''s sire, would be high on the cull list due to his mass in a lean winter.  I grabbed the notebook, found the pencil, and wrote a quick note.  ''Zeke to Keep Tubby alive.  Breed to all.  Explain Speedy.''

    Then, suddenly, I jerked back into a straight-backed sitting position, staring at Albert''s remote.  I had just made sense of what Albert was saying about humans with objectionable traits, and realized why Albert had used Speedy as an example.  I sighed.  "And you are hoping to see changes of a similar profoundness in humans?"

    We might stay at this technology level for a hundred thousand years?

    "No.  I have already seen, and can genetically trace, the traits I desire in humans.  Desired traits are growing more prevalent, and objectionable traits are growing less common.  I am not seeking any entirely new traits, though some have appeared which are acceptable.  On occasion, when there is an opportunity to do so, I will arrange for certain marriages."

    "Fine.  I get it.  I''m just a weak-brained human."  I tore out my notes on the projectile weapon, crumpled them up, and threw them, angrily, into the fire.  "I won''t tell anyone about the idea.  No need to threaten me like you did my mother."

    "An equitable arrangement doesn''t work like that, Allen.  Your mother didn''t tell you everything about her agreement with me.  I did not simply offer her a punishment of extremely strict enforcement of violence laws if she did not abandon martial arts, I offered her something valuable enough that she would actively work to keep her end of our bargain."

    I was silent for several seconds as I considered the words.  Ma had been an old maid, in a family with many children.  Pa had needed a wife, and came from a family with few children.  "You bribed my Ma to move away from her family and marry my Pa?"

    "Your father''s side of the family has been noteworthy for traits that I desired, but relatively barren, and frequently branches of it have disappeared.  Your mother''s side of the family is fecund, and tended to rarely demonstrate the traits I desire.  Long-distance arranged marriages between bachelors and old maids of childbearing age is a cultural institution that I have very carefully tended.  It allows me to create favorable matches from time to time without being obvious to the entire world what I am doing."

    "I-"

    "Stop."  Albert interrupted me forcefully.  "I did not require your mother to marry your father against her will.  She was already in communication by mail with many prospective bachelors as part of the program I mentioned earlier, including your father.  I provided her with your father''s name, and advised her that if she were to marry him, she would have safe, easy childbirth, healthy children, and, barring an accident where she was killed quickly, live long enough to raise all her children to adulthood.  Your mother wanted a family.  The promises I gave her were more than sufficient to have her choose your father, and give up martial arts.  If she had simply chosen a different stranger as a husband, I would not have interfered in her life at all, unless she began practicing or teaching martial arts again."

    "So, what are you going to offer me?  What threats and what promises?"

    "I object to you calling them threats.  They are conditions.  However, I can see that you will not agree to that terminology, so I will not argue further."

    Smart of you.

    I chuckled very briefly when I realized what I''d thought, and then Albert began speaking again.  "You will stop offering advice to the militia about ways to be more efficient at violence.  You may tell whoever you like that I specifically sought you out today, and have required you to stop helping to brainstorm more effective ways to inflict violence on others.  I authorize you to tell them that this is because I did not want you to provide ideas more dangerous than how to weaponize powdered lime with gunpowder.  Since that is the truth, people who know you well will not be able to read falsehood in your expressions.  Do not mention firearms or projectile weaponry at all, to anyone.  Do not mention the terms of the benefits, to anyone.  That is what I require."

    I nodded.  "I understand."  I didn''t much like the violence consultant job anyway.

    "Very good.  In exchange, I offer the following benefits.  You, and anyone you marry, will both remain strongly fertile and healthy until at least age forty, barring an accident that results in death in less than an hour.  After that, your fertility will wane naturally.  Your health will remain good until your biological children are all grown to sixteen years of age, at which point, your health will begin to wane naturally.  Any biological children of yours will be born alive, without congenital defects, and remain healthy, surviving to adulthood unless involved in an accident which results in death in less than one hour."

    I stiffened and stared at Albert''s remote.  "Why didn''t you offer health to my Pa as part of my Ma''s agreement?"

    "Because I had already interceded in his medical condition and was already maintaining his health, without his knowledge, beginning from the time I first contacted your mother.  It would have been a poor agreement for her if he had died before she had an opportunity to marry him and have children, and I wished to preserve your family''s genetics.  Your father would have died before he was thirty without my intervention.  Your mother was made aware of my interference with your father''s life expectancy, but it was not part of the agreement.  Do you understand?"

    Not fully, but I understand enough.  I nodded, with a frown.

    Albert paused several seconds before continuing.  "I will be clear.  I am not offering full recovery to perfect health from any injury.  If you, anyone you marry, or your children suffer a grave wound, and I can get a medical remote to you soon enough, you will live, but you may still be maimed, even handicapped and/or in pain for the rest of your life.  My medical resources are extraordinarily difficult to maintain, and I have many commitments.  An injury like your grandfather''s loss of a limb will be healed, but the limb will not be restored.  If you break the agreement, all offered benefits cease immediately.  Do you need time to consider this arrangement?"

    "Did my mother''s letter to me break the agreement you had with her?"

    "No.  You need not attempt to negotiate for her agreement''s reinstatement." Albert knew what I had been thinking.

    I didn''t need to think it over any further.  "No.  I don''t see that I really have a choice.  You are in a far more powerful bargaining position, and are offering something I would never forgive myself for refusing.  I would, however, like to ask that I be allowed to tell Riko and Marza about the benevolent parts of this agreement."

    "Yes.  I will amend the agreement to allow you to tell those two, verbally, not by post.  They must not tell others about the benefits, or they will be revoked.  You may speak with them either as a pair, or as a trio, without witnesses.  I understand the social scenario you find yourself in."  There was a pause.  "When Riko Gonzalez suggests that you might consider marrying all of his other female and male descendants of childbearing age, and then immediately divorcing them before marrying Marza, tell him that I would not appreciate either him, or you, attempting to game our agreement."

    "If you do not mind me asking, how many people in the world do you have agreements with, Albert?"

    "Several hundred."

    "How often to they break their agreements?"

    "Almost never, Allen.  I know by their behavior, typically before they do, that they are considering it.  I then take steps to remind them of the penalties they might incur, or the benefits they might lose."

    So, I will always be watched, or I''m expected to believe I will always be watched.

    Wait.  Does this mean-  "I never need to worry about dementia, since I might tell details about the agreement otherwise?"

    "Correct.  A benefit that I generally do not mention."

    "Since Riko and Marza are also going to be told, they do not need to worry about dementia?"  I asked, to clarify.

    "Also correct."

    Riko will be happy to hear that, I suspect.

    I couldn''t help myself.  "So, I can''t declare that I am marrying everyone in the world?"

    Albert immediately responded, in a hard, clipped voice.  "No."

 Chapter 22

    "Albert, does the agreement also include warning me if I unknowingly put myself in immediate life-threatening danger.  If I''m walking at night and would fall into a deep hole, for example?"

    "No.  I will only react, not predict.  Thorough predictive analysis of the environment requires significant processing power, even for a single individual."

    I kneaded my leg, which had become a bit sore after all the activity during the day.

    Wait a second.  The doctor was very happy with the speed my leg was healing.  Ma had an agreement that her children would remain healthy until adulthood.

    "You healed my leg?"

    "I did.  There was a small chance that you might have experienced clotting issues leading to a blockage traveling from your leg to your brain, so I acted, repairing only enough to guarantee that you would not suffer a stroke."

    Was the bruise that bad?

    "How-"

    "Nanites sprayed into your nasal passages while you slept."

    "After I..."  I remembered the day of the injury.  "That was more than an hour after I was injured, Albert."

    "I knew that your wound was not immediately life threatening because I maintain a small population of monitoring nanites within you.  I was prepared to act if you showed signs of a friable clot forming, which might be a stroke risk.  Delivery of nanites to unconscious patients is my preference when possible."

    I shook my head.  If he was willing to talk to me, I needed to ask him things that mattered, not press him on things I had no control over.  "If I think an action that I am considering might violate our agreement, can I mumble a question to myself or write it down, and expect an answer?"

    "Circumstances will dictate my response.  If you ask a legitimate question, and no other human is capable of witnessing our communication, I will answer.  If you simply want to initiate conversation, I will not."

    "Am I allowed to offer logistical or defensive planning advice to the militia if I think of something?"

    "I prefer that you offer no military-related advice at all.  Your impulse control is not well-developed.  There are several extremely intelligent people that you are regularly in contact with.  Now that you have these ideas in your head, you could easily, accidentally, offer an insight that could lead another person to conceptualizing technologies I would object to."

    I nodded.  Almost anyone could read me like a book.

    "I-"

    Albert interrupted me.  "I will leave you to your rest.  There is no immediate need for us to speak further."

    The fake bat''s chest closed, it hopped into the air, and with a few flaps of its wings, it was gone.

    I stared at where Albert''s remote had been.

    Is it even worth my effort to try to think about the conversation, or should I just obey blindly?  I''m clearly not going to out-think Albert, and I don''t want to risk the agreement.

    Not thinking about the conversation didn''t work.  After banking the fire, I tossed and turned in my blankets for what seemed like hours.  Every time I neared sleep, I would think about another facet of the conversation, and return to full wakefulness.

    Everyone knows Albert is repressing technology to improve humanity.  It''s so damn frustrating though.  We''re so far below him, mentally, and don''t have tools sufficient to equalize the disparity between us.

    At one point, much later, I remember opening my eyes and turned over, staring at my swine.

    I''m doing the same thing to my swine that Albert is doing to us.  He as much as said so.  Except we''re smart enough to know it, and could conceivably resist him, given sufficient technology.  He''s like a force of nature with a purpose.

    The fact that he''s not breeding us like swine, and is allowing us to live our lives as we wish unless we violate the violence laws is anecdotal evidence that he holds humanity in higher regard than clever animals, at least.

    Eventually, I slept.

    **

    I woke to the sounds and scents of my swine.  It was already early daylight.  I''d overslept by about two hours at first guess.  Considering that I''d been awake for at least four hours later than I should have been, and had no family or camp noises to wake me up, I was not surprised.

    The first thing that came into my mind was another observation on the prior night''s conversation.

    Albert is essentially rewarding me for being clever, as long as I''m not disruptive to his plans.  The agreement preserves my genetics, and Marza''s.  He apparently knows Riko as well.

    I wasn''t sure if I should be furious, or flattered.

    Or maybe Albert has no interest in my genetics, he just wants me to think he does, for some reason that''s a best fit for his plans.

    It was pretty certain that a headache was the only predictable result I was going to get from pondering Albert''s actions and intentions, so I shook my head and bent my attention to practical things.

    Before doing anything else, I released the swine from their leashes and led them over to the large pile of cattail plants left over from harvest and basket-making.  While the swine ate, I also ate my last Marza-made caramel and honey flatbread.  After finishing the bread, and drinking a few gulps from my cameltote, I doused the campfire, packed all of my gear, and lowered the baskets of cattail root to the ground.

    I double-checked the fire, wetting a couple warm spots and seeing a little steam for my efforts before I called Hoss and Bigboy back to the camp to put them in harness and leash.  About half an hour later, each boar was carrying roughly a hundred kilos of cattail root on a small travois.

    Before leaving the camp, I poured more water on the dead fire for the third time.  There was no steam, and the ash slurry was cold.  Then I led Bigboy and Hoss over to what was left of the cattail plant pile, and let them eat for about ten minutes, while in harness.  When they slowed down, and seemed satisfied, I took the sounder to the water''s edge and let them drink.

    Returning to camp would be easy.  My swine had left easily-visible tracks, scat, and visible signs of browsing along our back trail on the way out.  I wouldn''t even need to use the sun or the river valley ridge to guide me, though I watched them anyway, out of habit.

    Unfortunately, I would be returning later than I had hoped, but I had good news.  The beaver dam lake would be able to supply a great deal of food of various types.  I had seen plenty of fish and frogs large enough to be worth catching, and signs of a large deer and turkey population as well.

    At the edge of the forest, I turned back to look at the magnificent beaver dam.  The beavers would abandon the area if we kept bothering them regularly with a human presence.  That would lead to the dam failing in a couple years if the industrious rodents didn''t return when there was less human activity.  It was a painful thought, but the militia needed to feed many people, and the lake and surrounding game-rich forest would supply an enormous quantity of food before the ecosystem collapsed.

    And it would collapse.  The militia would not be concerned with sustainability in the current situation.  There was nothing I could do to stop that.  Nothing acceptable.

    There wasn''t much to do other than watch for predators and think as I walked back to camp.  A lot of the thought was about Albert.  And Speedy.  And whether or not Albert had intentionally misled me about some mystery ability that Speedy had.

    It''s far more likely that Albert somehow trained the swine himself, rather than Speedy miraculously demonstrating a new behavior hours before Albert could use it as a strong example in a discussion.  Some of the things the ancients could do might easily allow for training of animals.  Tiny devices in the ears, and on the eyes, to transmit audio and visual data.

    He claims to be preserving his sanity by engaging his intellect at the lowest levels required to complete his goals, but it really doesn''t take much for me to teach swine a new behavior.  He''s been watching me as part of his agreement with my mother for years.  He could probably train them better than me.  Not probably, definitely.

    I considered checking the swine for anything on their eyes and in their ears, but didn''t.  Albert wouldn''t have left evidence I could see if he didn''t want me to know, and he wouldn''t have been deceptive about the new behavior if he wanted me to know.

    I''ll send the note to Zeke anyway.  Tubby sires good squeakers.  Even if Albert was playing games with my head and Speedy''s not some sort of breakthrough, she''s still looking to become a damn fine sow, and it won''t hurt either of us to have more like her.

    "You two won''t like being left out of the action this year, I''m sure."  I said with a chuckle.  Bigboy and Hoss flicked their ears in my direction momentarily, not realizing that I''d just made a decision that meant they might not get to breed.  Assuming, of course, that I was able to return to the farm with them before they went into rut.  Trying to keep rutting boars and sows in heat separate without the pens at the farm would be possible but very difficult.  If I couldn''t get back to the farm, I would allow Bigboy and Hoss to breed my sows.

    Suddenly, I heard blue jays scolding something ahead.  I gave the boars a flick of the reins with my left hand, followed by a ''stop'' command.  When they stopped, I did as well, transferring my staff from my right hand to the crook of my left arm.  I wet my right index finger in my mouth before holding it in the air.  The air was moving, slightly, from the west.  We were walking into the wind, and the swine seemed to be unconcerned.

    Looking into the forest canopy for the jays, I saw them, half a dozen small dots fluttering from branch to branch a hundred meters or so away.  They appeared to be very close to my back trail.  They were not harassing a crow or some other bird that I could see.  By their behavior, they were intent on something on the ground.

    Not a predator, or the swine would be indicating threat.  Not another bird, or the jays would be harassing it in the air.  The disturbance is on my backtrail.  I just spoke a sentence out loud, and then gave a verbal command to my swine, and nobody called back to me with a challenge.

    I stared down my backtrail, and saw nothing moving on the ground.  I heard nothing moving in the leaf litter.  The brush was not thick, but there were enough tree trunks to keep me from seeing the ground below the jays.

    A person, or people.  Likely tracking me and my swine.  They have to know I''m here, whoever they are.  They have not challenged me.  The scouts are supposed to engage unknowns, and I''m still too far from camp for a normal foraging party.  I should have been challenged.

    Almost certainly not friendly.

    Drawing my knife, I immediately cut the leather straps holding the travois poles to the boars'' harness, lowering the poles and their cargos of cattail root to the ground as quietly as I could.  The harness on the boars was too tough to cut quickly with a glass knife, which meant I''d have to keep them on leash and harness commands.

    I turned and whistled normally towards the disturbance to my east, giving a ''follow'' command to the leash-less sows, and quiet movement commands accompanied by shakes of the leashes to the boars.  Immediately after whistling eastward, I turned southwest and started walking with the longest paces I could without running, trying to open up some space between myself and whoever was on my back trail.

    My luck held for about twenty paces before I heard a wrong-sounding turkey call behind me.  Immediately after the call, I was barely able to hear footsteps on leaf clutter that weren''t from me or my sounder.

    I started to quickly flick the reins, calling out ''faster'' with each flick, to get the boars up to speed, until we were at sprint, and I couldn''t run any faster.  That''s then I gave the boars yet another flick of the reins and another ''faster'' command.  They sped up again, running faster than I could, but nearing their own limit.  They were pulling me, almost as if I were skijoring or tailing a horse.

    Ignoring the mild pains in my leg, I pushed myself as hard as I could, trying to burden the boars as little as possible.  The sows were keeping up.  I wasn''t the best sprinter, but I knew that with a hundred meter lead, there were few people who could catch up with me.

    After about ten seconds, I heard a voice starting to call out, raggedly.

    "Travois cut loose."

    "Long paces.  Getting away."

    "Boars are pulling him."

    Suddenly, another voice called out, "Whoah!" loudly.

    By the time I realized what was going to happen, Hoss and Bigboy had planted all four legs and lowered their haunches to the ground in front of me.  I released the reins and jumped over the boars clumsily, barely avoiding a collision with them.  When I hit the ground after the jump, I tumbled and spun across the leaf litter until I bounced off a tree, my backpack taking the brunt of the blow.  I stared up in the air for a moment as the sky spun around me, before throwing off my pack.  As my pack skidded away from me, I forced myself to my knees and did a forward roll towards my swine to stop my vertigo.  The end of the roll left me a meter or so in front of the boars, who were staring at me as I skittered towards them, backing away a couple steps nervously.

    I still wasn''t hearing any horses, but I heard men and women calling back and forth.  At least half a dozen voices.

    "Over here."

    "Heard them fall."

    I grabbed the leashes and stood, whispering ''walk'' and then ''faster'' to get the boars up to speed again as I reached to my neck and blew the whistle as weakly as I could, and gave another ''follow'' command for the sows not in harness.

    Before we had gone more than ten meters at a run, I heard voices calling over the running footsteps.

    "Moving again!"

    "Heard ''em whistle!"

    "Whoah!"

    Again, all my swine simply stopped, at the yelled command, but I was expecting it.  Hoping it wouldn''t happen, but expecting it.  I jumped over the boars, more controlled this time, skidding across the leaf litter on both legs and one arm, waving my other arm in the air wildly for balance before going to all fours as I slowed.

    At that point I knew I was probably going to lose the entire sounder, but suddenly realized I might be able to save one.

    When I stopped sliding, I scrambled over to Speedy, stood, picked her up, and threw her over my left shoulder.  She was decidedly unhappy with that, and complained, squealing a little and squirming in my grip.

    The pursuers were much closer now, and one of them called out "Whoah!" again.  Speedy stopped moving, and I turned to run.

    Speedy had been putting on weight.  She was at least fifty kilos.  I could barely lift her, I''d never be able to run with her.

    Four men suddenly came into view about twenty meters away, carrying bows.

    All four lifted bows and nocked arrows.  "Shoot them!"

    I spun and tried to get behind a tree.  There was an impact, and a sudden burning sensation in my right shoulder.  I watched an arrow hit the tree in front of me, moving far slower than an arrow should.  I clapped my left hand over my right shoulder and stumbled, dropping Speedy, who tumbled to the ground, with a thud, squealing shrilly in indignation and pain.

    My hand came away bloody.

    They shot me.  This isn''t about the swine anymore.  It''s about me.

    "Stop!  Keep running and we''ll shoot again."

    A warning?  After saying ''Shoot them'' as soon as you saw me?''  Not bloody likely, psychopath.

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    I said nothing out loud, swerving to my left around another tree, running as hard as I could, not running in a straight line for more than two steps.  Several arrows passed close enough to me for me to hear them cutting the air.

    That was when I heard deep-toned squealing from behind me and realized that Speedy wasn''t the only one of my swine that had been injured.

    They shot Bigboy and Hoss.

    The same voice that had been shouting ''Whoah!'' now screamed "Ignore the pigs.  Stop the man!"

    I heard people running again, chasing me.  The deep-toned squealing from the boars suddenly shifted tone from confusion and pain, to higher pitched rage.

    They got the scent of their attackers from the arrows?

    There was another raging squeal followed by a thick-sounding thud, followed by the sound of something skidding through leaf litter, and then a scream.  "My leg!"

    A different voice competed with the raging squeals of the boars and screamed "Whoah!" before I heard another meaty thump and another sound of skidding followed by an incoherent human scream.

    More voices started yelling, panicked.  "The boars aren''t stopping!" and "''Ware the boars!"

    The ''Whoah'' voice called out loudly.  "Shoot them!  Get into the trees, and shoot them!"

    Angry yells and pained screams of men and women mixed with the shrill squeals of raging boars in a cacophony of chaos as I grabbed my whistle and blew, screaming ''follow'' at the top of my lungs.

    Left hand over my right shoulder, barely able to move after the long sprint, I forced myself to maintain a jog.

    This time, nobody said ''Whoah''.

    **

    I didn''t slow down until I couldn''t hear the screaming and squealing any longer, and even then, I didn''t stop.  I couldn''t stop.  But I did have to make sure I wasn''t bleeding to death.

    My shirt sleeve was bloody to the elbow, but when I looked at the wound, it was scabbed over, only oozing a little blood around the edges of a shallow, ragged wound.

    They shot me.  Without even asking me to stop.

    All nine sows had found me and fallen in around me, nervous and alert, but there was no sign of either Bigboy or Hoss.  At least one, and probably both of them, had been shot with bows.  Boars were absurdly tough, but I hadn''t seen where they had been hit.  If any of our attackers had made it into a tree with a bow and arrows, the boars would have been easy targets if they hadn''t run away.  I had heard what sounded like two people, at least, get knocked down, but I wasn''t sure how much effort my attackers would invest in trying to chase me down.

    I certainly couldn''t go back to check on the boars.  I had lost my backpack in the first fall, lost my pouch somewhere.  I''d dropped my staff early in the chase, and my sling was in my pouch.  Even my knife was missing from its sheath.  All I had was my mocassins, pants, underpants, a yellow ribbon in my pocket, a bloody shirt, and a cameltote slung across my chest that I''d rolled over, popping the cap loose.  I drank a few mouthfuls of water, everything remaining in the tote, unslung it from across my shoulder, and re-slung it across my neck.

    For the next two or three minutes, I very carefully removed my shirt as I walked, and used it to make a sling for my right arm.  Finally, I gingerly tied the yellow ribbon around my right upper arm above the bicep, and below the arrow-furrow in the meat of my deltoid muscle.  Tying a knot with my left hand only, as a right-handed person, was exceedingly annoying.  I had to do it though.  I needed some way to know for sure if the bleeding started again.

    As much as I ached to go back to get the boars, or blow the whistle loudly and call them in, hoping they were alive, there was no sane option other than to keep moving towards camp, quietly and quickly as I could.  I was in the deep woods, smelling of blood, with no weapons, no tools, and no boars to protect the sows and me.  A bear, cougar, or wolf could be deadly to me, and would almost certainly take at least one of the sows.  A pack of wolves might take several, perhaps even all of us.  Heading back to try to find a weapon or the boars might run me directly into pursuit by homicidal maniacs that had already tried to shoot me in the back.

    After a minute or so walking, I picked up the pace to a slow jog, carefully watching the ribbon on my arm every few minutes for fresh bloodstains, calling each sow softly by name, so I wouldn''t have to use the whistle.

    Between midday heat, blood loss, and exertion, at some point, everything went blank.

    **

    "...awake?"

    Sunlight?  Did I oversleep?

    I tried to sit up.

    Hands on my chest gently pushed me back down.

    "Whoah!"  Someone''s voice I knew.

    Hearing that word caused me to sit bolt upright, with a spike of panic and a sharp pain in my right shoulder.

    Where am I?

    "OK, fine, sit up then.  Here, have a drink.  Can you hold a cup?"

    Someone''s hand gently pulled my left hand off of my right shoulder, and brought it down to lap level.  I felt something placed into my hand, with the texture of wood.  Looking down, I saw a thin, elderly hand helping me hold a wooden cup of water.

    "Go get Lieutenant Brown, immediately."  The same voice, a command.

    I was in a building I didn''t recognize.  Crude.  Log cabin.

    "Where-"

    "You''re in the infirmary, Allen.  Relax.  Drink some water, slowly."  Doctor Sven''s voice.  I looked up.  Doctor Sven''s face.  He was looking at me with some concern.

    "How did I get here, Doctor Sven?"

    "One of the camp guards brought you to me.  I don''t know the details.  You weren''t very cooperative."

    I tried to remember.  The lake, the harvest, starting on the trip home.  The scolding blue jays.

    Bigboy and Hoss.

    I tried to get to my feet.

    "None of that."  A hand on my chest gently bumped me back.  "Sitting is one thing.  Standing is another."

    "Do you need help, Doctor?"  A female voice, several paces away.

    "Not yet, Mada.  If I back away, I need help."  Calm, controlled voice.

    I shook my head.  "I need to tell the officers-"

    "You already told them enough to get a squad of scouts and hunters searching down your back trail for New Tokyo scouts and hunters."  His voice was calm, relaxing.  Apparently I''d already done what I needed to do?

    I tried to switch the cup of water to my right hand.  I couldn''t move my right arm at all.  Looking down, my arm was tied to my waist, and slung with a cloth around my neck.  My shoulder had a heavy bandage on it, where...

    I stiffened with the memory.  "Shot me.  They shot me.  I was running away, and they shot me with a bow like I was an animal.  They shot Bigboy and Hoss, too."

    Doctor Sven put a hand lightly on my left forearm.  "Calm, Allen.  Drink water.  You were dehydrated.  I gave you some broth while you were out, but I''d like you to drink more now."

    I nodded, and drank obediently.  One sip told me the water was unsalted.  "Salt?"

    He nodded and reached onto a bag on the cot next to mine, pulling out a bleached leather pouch.  "Only a pinch.  There was salt in the broth."

    I nodded, and he dropped a pinch of salt into the small cup, which I quickly half-drained in two gulps.  I dropped the cup back towards my lap and slowly moved my hand in a small circle, swirling the water without using my finger.  When I could no longer see granules in the bottom of the cup, I quickly drank the rest.

    "More?"

    "Not yet.  If it stays down for a minute, you can have more."  The voice of reason.  He was so calm.

    How was he so calm?

    "They shot me, Doctor Sven."  I shuddered.  "They said ''Shoot them!'' and shot me.  The arrow-"

    "Allen.  Calm.  You''re OK."

    I stared at the doctor.

    Calm?  They shot me!  How can I be calm?

    A door pushed open, letting more sunlight in, silhouetting a female figure.  "He''s awake?"  Lieutenant Baker''s voice.

    "Awake, yes.  Not all there yet.  Still in mental shock, unknown level of blood loss but not enough volume to leave his blood pressure dangerous.  He''s likely still slightly dehydrated.  I got enough broth into him that he''s probably not having blood sugar issues, but he''ll still need to eat soon."

    "Where are my swine?"  I asked, suddenly realizing that I hadn''t heard nor seen them.

    "Sounds like he''s coming around fairly quickly."  Another female voice muttered from the doorway.  It took a moment to place the voice.  Anu.

    Lieutenant Baker turned from me to Doctor Sven.  "Can he walk, with help?"

    Doctor Sven looked at me.  "With help, yes.  He shouldn''t try to stand on his own yet."

    "I came prepared, doctor."  The lieutenant turned to the door.  "Come in, Anu, let''s help get Allen to his feet.  He''ll want to see his swine, I''m sure, before he''s willing to talk about much else."

    Anu stepped into the building and walked over to my cot, helping me to stand, gently.  Once standing, I found that I did need to lean on her shoulder for several seconds while I got my balance.

    Doctor Sven put a bowl into my hand.  "Finish this."

    Standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Anu, I lifted the delicious, salty half-bowl of vegetable broth to my lips and drained it.

    Another small wooden cup of water was offered to me by the doctor.

    "Pour it in the bowl, doctor, would you?"

    He started to say something, but hesitated and shook his head before pouring the cup into the bowl I was still holding.  I swirled the water around in the bowl before drinking the slightly salty water.

    When I was done, Doctor Sven looked at me sternly, reaching forward and tapping me between the eyes with a knobby finger.  "No more salt for at least thirty minutes, Allen.  Give your body time to process what you''ve just taken in.  It should be plenty."

    I nodded.  "Yes, sir."

    "On that note, Anu, take him by his carriage so he can check on his swine, and then bring him by the officer''s tent." Lieutenant Baker ordered.

    "Yes, Ma''am." Anu responded.

    Doctor Sven spoke before we could take a step.  "If he starts having difficulty with his balance, bring him back immediately, Anu."

    "Yes, doctor."

    Doctor Sven and Lieutenant Baker stayed behind, talking softly as Anu walked me out into the sunlight.

    "What day is it, Anu?" I whispered, a bit nervously.

    "Same day you came back.  You''ve only been unconscious for a few hours."  She chuckled.  "You gave the perimeter guards a fit.  You completely ignored them as you jogged straight into the camp and put your swine under the carriage."

    I halted a meter or so outside the infirmary, and turned to Anu, holding her arm for balance.  "I what?"

    She grinned at me, and chuckled.  "You just ran into camp in pants and moccasins, arm in a shirt-sling, blood down the side of your body.  Whenever anyone got close to you, you snarled something about speaking to officers.  They were afraid to touch you, and just followed you into camp."

    I started walking towards the wagon park again, and Anu walked beside me.  "I don''t remember."

    Anu continued softly.  "You put your swine under your carriage.  By that time someone had found Lieutenant Baker.  She met you at your carriage, and spoke to you, briefly.  Word is that you collapsed after telling her that you''d run into a small New Tokyo foraging party that had attacked you, and killed your boars.  She sent ten scouts and ten men who could use a bow out on horses to follow your back trail."

    Bigboy.  Hoss.

    "I don''t know they are dead.  They probably are.  If they aren''t, they might be too wounded to survive.  It was two of them against at least half a dozen men and women with bows."

    Anu spoke gently.  "I''m sorry.  I hope they''ll be OK."

    "It''s their job."  I muttered, getting me a strange look from Anu.

    Seeing her confusion, I realized she probably didn''t understand.  "That''s part of the reason I go into the forest with them.  To protect the sows and me."

    With a strained voice, Anu asked "You train them to attack humans?"

    I shook my head rapidly.  "No."

    We were at the carriage.  I breathed a deep sigh of relief when I saw that most, if not all of the sows were under the carriage.  I started to reach into my swine treat bag at my hip, and my hand found nothing.  There was no swine treat bag there.  I''d lost it too.

    I opened the carriage door, and carefully sat down inside, pulling out a few swine treats.

    "How did-" Anu started.

    I cut her off.  "They shot the boars and me with bows.  Apparently they hit the boars with more than grazing wounds.  We train our boars to be aggressive to threat, using predator pelts.  They aren''t like pet dogs that will whine and stay away from you if you accidentally hurt them.  If you hurt a boar more than just a little bit, you had best stay out of his way for a few days.  Especially if he doesn''t know you."

    Anu was looking at me, a little irritation on her face.

    I realized I''d interrupted her.  "Sorry, Anu.  I''m not quite all here right now."

    She nodded, and I continued.  "Anyway, full-grown boars are remarkably tough.  It''s hard to hurt one without a tool or weapon."  I took another deep breath and spent a second controlling my voice.  "Bigboy and Hoss did their job.  It wasn''t a job I trained them for, and it wouldn''t have happened if the people chasing us had all shot at me like their leader seemed to want."  I pushed off from Anu slightly, and leaned against the carriage as I lifted a few slats out of the way, calling the sows out, counting them as they emerged.

    Nine sows.  I didn''t lose any on the run back.

    "But you still hope they''re OK."  It wasn''t a question.

    "Yeah.  I do."  I took a deep breath and released it, loudly, intentionally trying not to think of the boars.  Hoping Anu would drop the topic.

    After a couple seconds of silence, I started having the sows roll over one at a time so I could look them over for obvious injuries without going to my knees, giving each of them a treat and shooing them back under the carriage after checking their condition.

    "She''s limping, is she hurt?"  Anu pointed at Speedy.

    I had Speedy roll over for a treat.  No visible wounds.  No noticeable swelling.  The legs and hips seemed fine.  It was just a hesitation in her walk.  I''d look more closely later.

    "She seems fine, probably a light sprain.  She kept up with me on the way back, and I don''t see any wounds or swelling."

    I put the slats back in place after I shooed Speedy back under the carriage.  I put the unused treats back in the big treat bag in the carriage, and grabbed a shirt.

    Staring at the shirt, I realized that with my arm immobilized, a shirt wasn''t going to work very well.  I tossed the shirt onto my bed and grabbed a jacket instead.  Anu helped me drape it over my shoulders.

    I leaned a little into Anu''s right side as we walked towards the officer''s tent.  I noticed one of the tent guards stepping inside when we started walking in that direction.

    "Thanks for the support, Anu.  In more ways than one.  First the snake.  Now this."

    She reached across and up with her left hand and ruffled my hair.  "No problem, Allen.  I''ll wait outside for you.  Lieutenant Baker put me in charge of making sure you don''t collapse somewhere, since I had prior experience with that job."

    I smiled and nodded.  Lieutenant Baker stepped partway out of the officer''s tent, briefly, looked at us, and then she backed into the tent.

    "Looks like they''re a bit impatient to speak with me."

 Chapter 23

    Anu looked a bit nervous as she helped me to my seat in the tent, though she was mostly just allowing me to balance myself against her right shoulder with my left hand.

    She addressed herself to Captain Marko. "Ah, sir, Doctor Sven told me that Allen wasn''t to add salt to anything for thirty minutes. That was about ten minutes ago."

    I looked up at Anu, briefly, and then back to the officers. I caught the tail end of a smile from Lieutenant Baker. Lieutenant Davis was scribbling on papers, perhaps correspondence. Captain Marko was looking at me, appraisingly.

    It''s been at least fifteen minutes.

    The salt craving was nowhere near as bad as it had been, so I wasn''t going to be upset with her for being cautious with the doctor''s orders.

    After about two seconds, Captain Marko spoke. "Thank you, Anu. We will obey the Doctor''s orders. Please wait outside. The conversation will not be long with Allen in his current condition. After we are done, you two will return to Doctor Sven and follow his orders."

    "Yes, sir." Nodding briefly, Anu left the tent, ducking through the flap as she passed Don.

    I saw that Riko was not present at the door.

    "Allen, look at me, please. I know you are tired, but I want to get information from you before you think about what happened too much. You weren''t very coherent when you returned."

    I turned back towards the table and nodded, wondering why the captain hadn''t seated himself.

    Is it because I''m tall, and he''s short? If he sits, he''s much shorter than me.

    I shook my head. The captain hadn''t seemed to be playing dominance games before. "The last thing I remember clearly, sir, is beginning to run after making a sling and hanging my cameltote from a branch."

    The captain nodded and started pacing back and forth. "Trying to remember a backwards-ordered series of events is difficult, and you are clearly still fatigued. Let''s start from the beginning of the day."

    "Yes, sir." I took a moment to try to remember what had happened that morning. "I woke up late. No camp or family noises, and I hadn''t been able to sleep right the night before."

    Lieutenant Baker tapped the table, and Captain Marko nodded to her. "Go ahead."

    "Why didn''t you sleep well? Did you notice anything the night before that might have indicated the presence of New Tokyo scouts or hunters?"

    I leaned forward in my seat a bit, preparing to put my elbows on the table. With only one elbow mobile that didn''t work. I gasped in pain and started to fall a bit sideways instead, catching myself with a quick grab at the table with my left hand.

    Lieutenant Davis jumped back from the table as my hand slapped next to his paperwork, glaring at me briefly, before nodding as his facial expressions softened.

    "Sorry, sir." I apologized as I leaned back against the chair and scratched my head with my left hand instead.

    I''m going to have to tell them anyway.

    "Albert and I had a conversation the night before. He was not happy with my contributions to the militia''s warfare knowledgebase."

    All three officers froze, and the tent went silent except for the soft noises of the camp outside.

    "And?"

    "I will no longer act as a violence consultant."

    "A what?" The captain shook his head. "Nevermind. I understand the term."

    Eyebrows furrowed, the captain looked slightly upward in deep thought. "Are you certain it wasn''t a dream?"

    "It happened before I went to sleep, sir. I don''t think it''s possible that I dreamed it. I''m fairly certain I''m not mentally compromised enough right now to make that large of a mistake." I paused, considering if I wanted to say the last part or not, before deciding that I needed to.

    "Even if it was a dream, sir, I have to consider it as reality. The conditions Albert gave me for speaking to him again would surely also include me verifying that my memories are valid."

    Grumbling curses under his breath, Captain Marko walked back to his small table, next to what I assumed to be his cot. "Will he speak to you in front of others?" Before I could respond, he waved a hand angrily in the air. "Never mind. If he would do that, he''d probably be speaking now, or you would be asking him to."

    Captain Marko did an abrupt turn back to me and walked to another part of the tent, next to a heavily padded cot. He opened a leather bag sitting on a shelf, pulled out a whiskey bottle, and walked back to his table again, before pouring a shot glass full of the amber liquid.

    The two lieutenants were watching him closely, their heads swiveling to keep the captain in view.

    A quick motion later, the captain tossed down the full shot, slapped the glass on the table hard enough to make me jump, and put the cork back in the bottle.

    A quick motion later, the captain looked in my direction and threw the bottle.

    I ducked reflexively under the slow-moving projectile, causing my shoulder to spike in pain again. Behind me, I heard the liquid sloshing as Don caught the bottle.

    "Hold that, Don, and tell the doctor I''ve had my medicinal shot today when you give the bottle to him."

    There was no verbal response.

    The captain spoke again, when I turned to face him, I found he was looking away from me, showing me his back. "You understand that if the Stateman asks Albert if he spoke to you, Albert will tell him? Even if he will not divulge anything about the conversation?"

    The meaning of that comment was clear. "I did not know that, sir, but it changes nothing."

    "Fine. Perhaps this will change something." Captain Marko muttered, in a soft, angry voice that was difficult to comprehend. "You were attacked, by a group of New Tokyo individuals, the morning after Albert chose to speak to you about your contribution to enhancing our ability to fight. Do you believe that to be a coincidence?"

    "I-"

    My mouth snapped shut.

    The idea of Albert attempting to arrange my death was plausible-seeming, but only for a moment. "Sir, if Albert did want me dead, I''m sure I would be dead."

    Turning back to face me with a stony face, the captain spoke again. "Leave, Allen. I don''t think I can speak with you effectively right now. Don, help him to his feet." The captain''s eyes bored into mine as he faced me, but he wasn''t talking to me. "Lieutenant Davis, I want you to go ask Brad what he wants to cooperate with us."

    I slowly stood, accepting Don''s offered palm before moving my left hand to his shoulder. Everyone in the room was staring at the captain.

    Lieutenant Davis slowly gathered the papers in front of him on the table, tapping them into a neat pile as he stood. "You''re sure, Captain Marko?"

    "No, I''m not. I want to hear what he wants before I make a decision. And no, he doesn''t get to speak to me directly. Not with me in this mental state." The captain''s eyes never left my face. I looked down a bit to break the stare.

    After a deep sigh, the captain spoke in a tired, angry voice. "Allen, New Tokyo is apparently doing something very different from us. We''ve still seen no sign of a camp, but they have scouts in our vicinity. It''s possible that they somehow maintained part or all of their repository of combat-related military doctrines and are acting in ways that we aren''t prepared to counter. If they have a lot of knowledge that we''ve lost, tens of thousands of our friends and family could die this winter."

    I almost broke the agreement with Albert right there, before I did the mental math.

    Tens of thousands of deaths in the next few months, or millions later.

    I closed my eyes and turned away from the captain. I had already been dismissed. My hand on Don''s shoulder for balance, we left the tent.

    Don gestured to Anu, and she approached. Don handed her the whiskey bottle. "Give this to Doctor Sven. Tell him that Captain Marko already took his medicinal today."

    "Understood." Anu nodded.

    Don looked at me, expression unreadable. "I hope you''re good at math, Allen."

    I took a deep breath and shook my head. "Not as good as Albert."

    Don''s jaw clenched, slightly, and then relaxed. "Go. Sleep. Maybe a nightmare or two will bring you to your senses."

    I glared at Don, and he glared back, eyes glittering in anger.

    "Enough of that, Sergeant. You mean well, but stop. That discussion is not yours to have with Allen unless you clear it with the captain." The voice came from Lieutenant Davis as he exited the tent.

    Two thoughts snapped into place in my head in rapid succession.

    The captain''s going to use Riko against me instead.

    Riko will use Marza against me, but I can tell Riko about the agreement.

    "Sir. Understood." Don muttered as he snapped his head to the side to break eye contact with me and stepped back into the tent.

    "Where''s Riko, Lieutenant Davis?" I asked.

    He answered, without looking at me, as he walked towards the wagon confining Brad. "Riko and Fobi led the group down your back trail."

    "Thank you, sir."

    I need to talk to Riko.

    I put my hand on Anu''s shoulder for balance, and we started to walk towards the medical building.

    "Do I want to know what that''s about?"

    "Probably not."

    "Do you want to tell me what it''s about?"

    "No. Not now. Sorry, Anu."

    I wondered if I would be able to refuse to help the militia if the captain chose to force me to refuse in front of my friends.

    Then I wondered if Anu was pretending ignorance. She hadn''t been far from the tent.

    Doctor Sven had a large bowl of beans and rice brought to me, with enough sawdust filler that I could see it, but there was only a slight taste of pine. The cooks had apparently found a way to remove or break down the volatiles that gave pine its scent.

    After being helped into the cot I''d been laying in before, I stared at the ceiling for an hour. Even with the exhaustion, blood loss, and a full stomach of warm food, my mind would not slow down enough to allow me to sleep.

    The prospect of talking to Riko was getting less and less pleasant. Riko had a large family. My agreement was for myself and Marza only, with a minor mental health benefit for him. It was entirely possible he would disagree with the value of the arrangement.

    Albert''s warning about Riko''s probable question about a marriage arrangement with his family only made my nervousness worse.

    Eventually, Doctor Sven pulled a chair next to my cot, checked my pulse, listened to my breathing, and looked into my eyes. Then he sat straight up in his chair and looked at me sternly. "I want you to sleep, to rest properly for at least a few more hours. You''re clearly thinking too much. I am willing to sedate you lightly since your vitals seem strong. I know you''re probably worried for your boars. You returned without them, I heard, and you called names in your sleep that I remember from the carriage ride."

    I immediately felt horrible. I hadn''t even thought about Bigboy or Hoss, since before the meeting with the officers.

    "Yes, Doctor, please." I enthusiastically accepted the sedative with a glass of water.

    **

    Something touched me, and I woke. It was light outside, and I had been asleep.

    I overslept.

    I wasn''t in the carriage.

    As I started to sit, a firm hand in the center of my chest held me down. My shoulder hurt enough for me to wince.

    I followed the arm with my eyes and relaxed at the familiar face.

    "You awake and thinking straight, Allen?" Riko asked, with a serious look.

    Where?

    Memories returned. I collapsed back into the cot.

    "Awake, yes. Thinking straight, not so much."

    I stared out the window at the long shadows, trying to remember the alignment of the building and the doors. The shadows were wrong for morning light. "How long was I asleep?"

    "Only a few more hours, Allen." Doctor Sven''s voice, sounding a bit disapproving. "I would have preferred a few more hours since you were resting well."

    "We discussed this, sir." Riko started, with a bit of irritation in his voice.

    I turned my head towards the doctor and saw him waving his hand back and forth. "No, I understand and agree, Sergeant, I preferred more, but I agreed."

    I looked back and forth from Doctor Sven to Riko. The first with a tired look on his face, the second, still covered by travel dirt.

    Riko had gone with the scouts along my back trail.

    "Did you find them?"

    "We did. Can you stand?"

    "Yes." I tried to sit and fell back, holding my right shoulder. "Maybe."

    Riko chuckled and stood, offering me a hand.

    "Sergeant, make him hold your shoulder while he walks, for tonight. I didn''t give him a large dose of sedative, but there''s likely to be enough in his system still to interfere with balance, on top of the other stress from today. He should also eat."

    Riko nodded. "Understood, Doctor Sven."

    I walked out the door with Riko a couple minutes later, after the doctor made me drink another glass of water.

    As soon as we were a few steps outside the medical building, Riko stopped. "I''m not going to sugar-coat this. We found where the fight happened. There was a cairn nearby, with a single corpse, and a wounded survivor. Three sets of tracks, humans, each pulling a travois, crossed the river to the New Tokyo side. We did not pursue." His hand reached up and gripped my left shoulder, squeezing a bit. "Your boars did not survive."

    I closed my eyes. They weren''t pets, but they had been important. Part of what I had been building my future with was gone. Not irreplaceable, but years of training gone. Boars were harder to train than sows. Despite the logical reasons not to be emotionally upset, I was.

    That much meat wouldn''t have been left behind.

    I shook my head. "I want to see them." I paused. "Or have they already been butchered?"

    Riko fidgeted a bit as he answered. "Field dressed, not butchered. They are hanging now."

    "You said there was a survivor?"

    "Yes, there was a wounded survivor. You aren''t allowed to see them yet."

    I was silent for a moment. "I understand." I wasn''t sure what my reaction would be to someone who had tried to kill me, and had managed to kill my boars. Part of my future, gone.

    My right shoulder was starting to hurt, a lot.

    I stopped clenching my hands. The muscles in my arms and shoulders loosened.

    My right shoulder felt a little wet under the bandage. I''d probably broken the wound open.

    It could wait.

    "Take me to them, Riko. They saved my life, I''d like to see them off. Closure for me, at least."

    Riko nodded and stepped off, wordlessly, and I followed, my left hand on his right shoulder.

    "We retrieved all of your equipment, and read the signs. You detected them, in concealment, from over a hundred meters?" Riko was not looking at me, but he was tense.

    He would have reported to the officers first. Does he think Albert told me about them?

    "Bluejays. I saw a few over my back trail making a fuss. The swine weren''t reacting to predator scent. The wind was from the jays. Had to be human. My swine and I make a lot of noise in the woods, but there was no challenge."

    Riko nodded. "That makes sense. Please tell me you didn''t train the boars to attack men."

    I stopped, shocked. "No. I never taught them to attack men."

    Riko nodded, saying nothing.

    He clearly wanted more from me. "The boars were in harness. I couldn''t control them without leash tugs. The others... One of them apparently figured out I had trained animals with me and started yelling ''whoah.'' When they came into view, the leader, I guess, he shouted ''Shoot them.'' "

    Riko nodded. "Some of the arrows meant for you hit the boars?

    "I... don''t think so. I think some of them shot the boars instead of me, out of confusion."

    "Or maybe they just refused to shoot a person." There was a rasping sound as Riko rubbed his jaw.

    "There were more arrows shot after me as I ran. More than one man could manage."

    Riko turned to look at me. "One wound?"

    "If I was hit again, it''s minor enough that I didn''t feel it then, and it''s not bothering me now."

    "Eight shooters, close range. Unless they were all incompetent, they should have hit you several times."

    I turned to face him. "Riko, I''m not willing be charitable right now. They shot at me and killed my boars."

    "If it''s any consolation, your boars killed one and severely injured three others."

    Is this a test?

    Coldly, I responded. "It''s not a consolation, Riko. They killed a person and injured three-"

    Riko interrupted "Four. The one we captured had a broken leg."

    I nodded and kept walking with him. "One dead. Four wounded. I would have had to put them both down. No way to trust them around strangers again. I wouldn''t be confident of their reaction to me if I had to treat a wound. Both boars were dead as soon as they broke conditioning and attacked men like that, one way or another." I took a deep breath and blew it out. "I could have put the cull off until after this season''s rut."

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Riko nodded but said nothing.

    "A violent sow? I might consider keeping as a breeder only, no field work, and immediately transfer her piglets to another sow, watching for behavioral issues. Sows are small enough to manhandle. Never a boar. Not after a violent episode like that."

    Another nod from Riko.

    Why is he doing this?

    He talked to the officers.

    I''m an obstacle now.

    Abruptly, without looking at him, I asked, "So. When are you going to start asking me questions about Albert?"

    Riko sighed. "Later, after you get some closure and food. This conversation isn''t an attempt to soften you up, Allen."

    "It''s not just small talk either." I carefully avoided looking in the direction we were walking.

    "No, it''s not. I wasn''t sure if you had thought through everything." Riko turned his head and locked eyes with me for a second, before looking forward again. "Part of it is that you couldn''t have saved them. Even temporarily. Several of us read the tracks. I, personally, read the tracks. Your statements match what we found."

    "Part of it..." I stopped, intentionally drawing attention to the fact that I''d noticed the wording.

    He pointed ahead. "The rest of it is for later. I''ll leave you here and get you something to eat from the kitchen."

    I didn''t want to look, but I certainly wasn''t going to say goodbye with my eyes closed.

    The two boars were hanging, their hind legs suspending them under a crossbar roped between two posts. They had been field dressed and were still individually recognizable.

    As I took the last two steps to allow me to put my hand on a wooden post, I barely recognized Riko standing and watching for a moment before leaving. I stood in front of the two swine carcasses, examining them.

    The light was still good enough for me to see their wounds. The arrows had been removed, but there had been at least a dozen wounds in the sides, neck, and back of each swine.

    Carefully, I ran my hand over the wounds, assessing them, pressing and seeing how they gapped. None of the arrow wounds had been killing blows. The boars had bled out, their movements tearing muscles and skin, wounds growing worse with each exertion.

    Trying to kill boars with arrows?

    My fists clenched. My shoulder ached fiercely.

    Even animals should die with dignity.

    The memory of the boars'' squeals of rage mixed with the screams of men and women echoed in my mind.

    You reap what you sow.

    Whispering, I gave the boars their farewell. "Good job, Bigboy. Good job, Hoss. You saved my life, and the sows too, I''m sure. They would have driven you all back to their camp for meat, and left me under that pile of stones."

    I almost expected them to look up at me, puzzled, waiting for a command after their name was spoken. Almost. Reality proved to be more durable than I would have preferred.

    Hesitantly, at first, and then vigorously, I scratched each boar''s neck, ending with a light slap and a forced smile.

    After I properly rewarded the boars for their second-to-last service, I turned away, waiting for Riko to return. The kitchen would need to process them quickly. They hadn''t been properly bled out and had died excited.

    They didn''t even die a good enough death to be worthwhile cuts of meat.

    I had to wipe my cheeks a couple times as I stared at the setting sun.

    Enough of that. I haven''t fed the sows.

    Riko was returning, walking slowly, looking at me.

    I waved him forward with a tired motion.

    As he approached, I took a couple steps away from the boars without looking at them. "Riko I need to feed the sows as well. I also need to make sure the remnants from the butchering go to the dogs, not the kitchen garbage pit."

    "No need to worry about the remnants. The dogs have first claim to all butchering wastes. The hunters were very vocal about that with your sounder in camp."

    That arrangement made sense. I nodded.

    "Let''s get your swine, settle them in somewhere, and let you eat." Riko prodded me, verbally.

    I took a breath and put my left hand on Riko''s right shoulder, allowing him to guide me. I didn''t think I needed it, but I wasn''t sure, and I didn''t want to tumble with one arm tied across my midsection and my shoulder wounded.

    Yeah, that was it. No other reason.

    **

    A few minutes later, we were back at the kitchen garbage pit. I had chosen a spot to sit which did not allow me to see where the boars were being butchered though I could hear the kitchen team working quietly. The sows were nervous, but not requiring special care. They were very hungry. Their last meal had been in the morning, and they had run with me for however long I''d run. The kitchen garbage pit had two days waste in it. Swinish priorities for food dominated nervousness in the proximity of the dead boars. If I hadn''t been there, they might have been a lot more skittish. That was a big difference between our swine and farm pigs.

    Farm pigs had no compunctions about eating other pigs'' corpses. Smart farmers wouldn''t let their pigs acquire that taste, but it happened from time to time.

    I was fairly sure the family hadn''t bred for the trait of cannibalism avoidance intentionally. It had probably been somehow associated with other domestication traits that we''d encouraged. We wouldn''t feed swine to other swine, regardless, but it hindered us to some degree to have our swine be nervous or even uncooperative in the presence of evidence of the deaths of other swine.

    Stop thinking about death, Allen.

    Speedy was exploring instead of eating. As the smallest, she''d filled up first from the pile.

    "Speedy." Speedy looked up from her nearby explorations.

    I tapped the ground in front of me and called her name again. "Speedy." She looked at me for a moment, before twisting her head back and forth slightly and finally approaching where I''d tapped the ground.

    ''Tap and name'' was used in fields to put swine in new rows, and there was no crop row here. ''Follow'' commands were used for outside fields. Speedy was waiting for a treat. I didn''t want to confuse her training, so I gave her a ''sit'' command, which she followed, before dropping a small spoonful of beans and rice in front of her.

    Obeying an out-of-context command. I''ve seen that before, but it''s uncommon.

    I scratched Speedy''s head behind her ears, and she rubbed against me. Her stripes were nearly gone. She was probably around fifty kilos now. She would probably put on another ten kilos before her first heat.

    "You''re getting to be a big girl, Speedy." Her ears perked at her name, but there was no command, so she pushed a bit against my leg for more scratching.

    I gave her what she wanted, scratching absently as I waited for the other swine to eat their fill.

    If the boars were-

    I cut off the thought.

    I knew that was going to be a problem. It would restrict my foraging ability. Without the boars for protection, or for heavy hauling, I would have to stay fairly close to camp, or go out with other foragers and hunters. Especially while my arm healed.

    I could go out myself, and most predators would leave me alone. But with nine small swine and no boars to keep the predators nervous, the sows wouldn''t be safe. I wouldn''t be able to go out on longer distance trips without risking my sounder unacceptably.

    Or me. I''m in as much danger as my swine if the New Tokyo scouts are hunting our foragers while they are, themselves, foraging as groups.

    Which is a good idea, tactics-wise, even if it''s sickening.

    I sighed.

    And I can''t tell anyone.

    After a few more minutes of mental wheel-spinning, the sows had eaten their fill and were only halfheartedly eating.

    Riko had been giving me space. He wasn''t far away, but he left me alone as he scribbled in a notebook in the last remnants of light. Occasionally someone would ride or walk up and speak with him, briefly. I wasn''t paying enough attention to Riko''s business to know if they were scouts or camp messengers.

    We''d agreed to talk after the swine were fed and put away. He hadn''t pressured me at all.

    The degree of patience made me nervous. I couldn''t believe the officers would be so patient with me if they were going to try to convince me to reject my deal with Albert.

    The idea of them simply giving up on me helping them with ideas seemed unlikely. I knew the captain hadn''t been angry because some kid he didn''t need was refusing to help. Captain Marko''s parting comments about Brad were certainly more for me than Lieutenant Davis. There was no way he didn''t know how I felt about Brad. Not after our first meeting.

    I suddenly realized the reason for their caution.

    They know they are competing against Albert, but they only need to win an argument with me.

    They were right to try to convince me, from their point of view. Because they didn''t know what I knew. Worse, I couldn''t tell them why they were wrong. If I told them, even obliquely, I might end up becoming responsible for promulgating firearms technology into a verbal tradition, leading to millions dead. Humans dropped to lower technology levels. Thousands of years to erase the...

    A horrible thought struck me, suddenly.

    Is this really the first cycle?

    Surely Albert isn''t hiding past cycles from us. That can''t be possible.

    Or could it? Could Albert have put us through one or more long cycles already? Has humanity already been dropped back to barely above animal technology levels, and then brought back? Did we know that only roughly 4500 years has passed, or...

    No. The road networks. The quarries. The canal systems of the ancient colonists. Someone would surely have noticed if they were over 4500 years old, wouldn''t they? What about ancient, crude tools? The martial arts verbal traditions would not have survived a long cycle of extreme low technology. Ma wrote that there had been books written about martial arts.

    How thoroughly could Albert control the world, to censor existence of a prior, far more primitive society?

    Stop. Making too many guesses with too little information. It doesn''t matter if it''s the first cycle or the tenth. I can''t risk being responsible for twenty thousand more years of this, or worse.

    As I stood, Riko immediately looked up, saying nothing.

    I nodded to him. "The sows are done eating, Riko, thank you for your patience."

    Riko stood and put his pad and pencil in his pouch with a little chuckle and a shake of his head. "I kept busy. Other work to do, ideas to consider, and preparations to make."

    I must have given him a funny look, based on his lopsided grin.

    "Sure, some of them have something to do with you. Most of them didn''t. I am the scout sergeant, and the events of this morning proved that we now have active opposition, and the New Tokyo militia is acting in a way we hadn''t considered."

    It didn''t take long to get the sows back under the carriage since they were homed there after several days. Three of the larger sows trotted ahead of me a short way to get under the carriage before I even indicated they should enter. As the rest of us approached, those three poked their noses out between slats, likely watching to see if I gave commands that would require them to do something different from what they expected.

    Riko chuckled. "Definitely not like farm pigs I tried to raise once. More like Marza''s dogs."

    I laughed a little, remembering Marza''s indignation at similar comparisons we''d shared about each other''s animals over the years. "Marza wouldn''t care much for that comparison. Her dogs really are much smarter. My swine are grunt laborers."

    I was given a quick grin for my pun before Riko continued. "I know, and she''d be right if I meant it as a serious comparison. Your swine are like a cross between farm pigs and dogs. I can see some of both types of behaviors. If it wouldn''t interfere with your family''s livelihood, I''d consider trying to buy Zeke out. I was a little upset that he and Rosa didn''t get along at all."

    "Granpa and Zeke might take one of your youngest-"

    Riko shook his head. "We almost did that once, before you were born. Then you, Abe, and Molly changed things. Your family business was no longer in danger. It was a solution that was no longer necessary."

    "Neither Granpa nor Pa ever said anything about that."

    "Why would they? There was a potential problem, but the problem solved itself without needing to resort to apprenticeship." He shrugged. "There was no anger or resentment. Just plans that we no longer needed."

    After I had dropped the last slat in place to pen the swine under the carriage, Riko spoke. "OK, time to talk about more serious things."

    I was not looking forward to the upcoming conversation with Riko. I knew he was a lot smarter than me, more experienced in reading people, and, on top of that, Marza''s granpa.

    "We need to talk where nobody else can hear."

    "Why?"

    "I was specifically told that I could speak to you and Marza about some things that I was not allowed to speak to anyone else about."

    "This is in regards to personal or militia business?" Riko looked suspicious.

    "Both."

    "How?"

    I started to sweat a bit. "Because my personal decisions will impact both the militia and my personal life."

    Riko stared at me. "So, Albert has somehow tied me into whatever agreement he concocted to control you. I expected that."

    He pulled out his notepad and started tearing out sheets. "You have paper in the carriage?"

    "I do."

    "Good. We''ll communicate in the carriage, with paper. When finished, we''ll feed the paper to your swine."

    I considered it for a moment. It was clearly a better idea than trying to find a place to talk with nobody overhearing. Especially considering that Riko was apparently now the focus of a lot of scouts, who were chosen partly because they were stealthy in the woods.

    "Better than anything else I can think of," I replied.

    Giving Riko control of the conversation immediately. I''ve half-lost already.

    I opened the carriage door. "Enter, guest."

    Riko nodded, with a little smile. Clearly recognizing my attempt to pull back a little control of the situation by setting the tone for him to be a visitor in my ''home.''

    Getting into the carriage with one arm was annoying but less annoying than getting in with a bad leg.

    After a couple minutes, we were both seated on the bed, with enough space between us that my lap desk could sit there. I had made sure the curtains were closed.

    Riko cleared his throat. "Before we get to the point where we start writing things back and forth, I''m going to give you a little background, and ask one question."

    I braced myself. "I will answer on paper if it is something I can''t speak about publicly."

    "That will not be necessary, I''m certain." Riko''s face became very serious.

    I''ve given him and the officers how long to think about this?

    "If you are not allowed to continue acting as a ''violence consultant,'' the militia will have to find another use for you. Considering your age, your demonstrated willingness to perform violent acts, and your familiarity with the woods, the officers will certainly put you at the top of the list for a new group of aggressive scouts that will try to seek out New Tokyo militia. We are forming that group. There is no meaningful justification for a militia scout sergeant to use to keep you out of that new unit. Being in that unit is going to be the most dangerous job we have. We can''t allow the New Toyko militia to starve us out of this position. You will not be allowed to keep your animals. That was the background. Do you understand it?"

    "Yes. I will have to send a letter, asking that my family send someone to retrieve my sows and take them back to the farm." I swallowed.

    And direct them to have most of them sent to slaughter if we don''t get a decent second harvest.

    My full sounder was not important enough to burden my family with, in a potential famine year. Despite that, I could probably convince Zeke to keep back a couple of my best if I gave him picks of their litters for a couple years. That would be a painful decision, but Zeke would likely be sending some of his sows to slaughter to save mine. I''d need to compensate him for that, somehow.

    Riko took a deep breath. "Now the question. Have you considered whether or not Albert''s agreement with you is worth keeping if you die?"

 Chapter 24

    "What?" I replied, cleverly, not quite believing he had asked me that question.

    Riko took a deep breath and sighed. "It''s a very serious question. While you were asleep, recovering, Captain Marko, the lieutenants, and I had a discussion."

    I responded slowly, carefully. "I expected that. I expected this conversation too, just not quite so blunt."

    "I''ve known for years, and the officers all knew within a short time of meeting you, that you are both intelligent, and blunt. Sugar-coating the question would be meaningless and might even irritate you." He paused and watched my expression.

    I nodded slowly. "Subtle isn''t my thing, even though dealing with Marza, Ma, and Granpa in the last few years has taught me that it can be useful. Not so much with Pa, Edward, and Zeke."

    The left corner of Riko''s mouth quirked upwards. "I will not admit to saying it if you repeat it, but Zeke and Rosa didn''t get along at all because Rosa is too subtle, and Zeke was clearly offended by it. I was watching for the same thing between yourself and Marza, even though Marza is a lot more straightforward than Rosa."

    He dragged the conversation directly to Marza. Is there a reason?

    Of course there is, but he''s shooting blind, looking for reactions that might tell him more than I say.

    I met his eyes. "Riko, the incentives that I was offered included several things that will, eventually, be valuable beyond my death. The rest of the agreement that I can''t talk about are worth dying for, yes."

    I shivered as my mind brushed up against the possibility of being responsible for thousands, or even millions of deaths and a return to a preliterate human society for thousands of years. If I had to choose between my family and that fate, the question would be almost unanswerable. When it was my life at stake, and at least some of my family might survive past my death in our current world, the answer was clear.

    "So, you figured out something big, and Albert picked up on it?"

    "I might have to end this conversation if you seem to be trying to tease out details, Riko," I warned him, making an effort to not sound angry and irritated.

    Riko nodded. "Albert has no problem arranging to get people alone rather rapidly if there''s reason to do so. There is no doubt at all that he is monitoring quite a few people in this camp closely. Especially everyone involved in the ''violence consultancy'' business."

    I said nothing, but had an idea and interjected before he could start his next sentence. "One second, Riko. I need to do something."

    Riko went silent with a bit of a confused and irritated look on his face. "It will be brief?"

    I nodded and leaned over, opening a cabinet and pulling out a shirt with my good arm.

    Riko''s face grew more confused during the brief time I could see it before I awkwardly draped the shirt over my head with my left hand. "Sorry, Riko, I''ll have this conversation with you, but I won''t let you fish for easy nonverbal responses from me. I know you can read my face like an open book. Most people can. That whole ''not subtle'' thing is more than just how I say things, and I know it."

    I could no longer see Riko, but if I leaned forward, the shirt would pull away from my face enough for me to look down to read and write on paper on the lap desk between us.

    After a couple seconds, Riko started chuckling. "Well, I won''t order you to remove the shirt, but I wouldn''t try that if Captain Marko decides to speak to you about this directly, again."

    "I''d rather not imagine a scenario where that interrogation takes place. I''m sure Captain Marko knows that I''d be a very uncooperative person if he tries to strong-arm me in a conversation."

    Riko started speaking after a couple seconds. "We were hoping that the agreement would only impact you individually. Most teens don''t really have a sense of their own mortality, and if Albert had made an agreement with you that was individual enough, we were hoping to break through."

    "With threats of potential death?" I realized what I''d said and shook my head. "Poor word choice. I know you weren''t threatening me, Riko."

    Riko grunted in what sounded like acceptance, so I continued. "What you said about putting me into harm''s way makes sense. If I can''t be useful like I was before, I have other skills."

    "So, whatever it was that you figured out was apparently significant enough that Albert offered you-"

    I sighed and shook my head under the shirt. "Riko. I have permission to tell you and Marza about the benefits, nobody else. I''m not talking even obliquely about why Albert offered them. Please stop poking and prodding for reactions."

    There was a moment of silence. "So, it''s bigger than you, or your family."

    Stop it, Riko.

    I said nothing out loud and the silence stretched for several seconds before I leaned forward, picked up a pencil from the little groove on the side of the lap desk, and started to write on the paper in large, barely legible block letters with my left hand.

    ''Understand if you reveal this to anyone, the agreement is null...''

    I stopped writing, suddenly.

    "Sorry, Riko. I can''t. Not yet. You could break my agreement with Albert, and you might do so, thinking that it would convince me to abandon my side of the agreement." I paused. "I wouldn''t, even if you broke the agreement. But you might be tempted to try."

    There was no immediate response from Riko. For several seconds, the only sounds were our breathing, the snoring of sleeping swine below us, and background noises in the camp filtering through the walls of the carriage.

    "I hope we both live through this war then, Allen." I heard Riko starting to move, and he suddenly pulled my shirt off my head, tossing it onto the bed between us. "Get that thing off your face. I won''t try to pump you for reactions any longer. I wanted to make sure Albert wasn''t trying to suppress something useful that wasn''t legitimately terrifying."

    "Sorry, sir, I''d rather not provide you with the temptation. Not until there isn''t any possible perceived-"

    Riko looked away from me and started to speak, which confused me until I realized he probably didn''t want me to think he was trying to watch me for facial expressions.

    As he started to speak, I checked to make sure the curtains were still in place so he could not see reflections of me in the glass. Just in case.

    "I understand, Allen. The officers might be less convinced, but I know you have a good head on your shoulders. Whatever you figured out, it''s clear that Albert has somehow terrified you with it, and I know you don''t scare easily. I suggest that you talk to Fobi and see if she has any advice about how to deal with people prying. You''re probably going to need it. The officers might attempt to circulate rumors around the camp to pressure you into telling them what you figured out."

    I stiffened. "They wouldn''t-"

    Riko snapped his head around to face me and pinned my eyes with his own. "Captain Marko is no fool. If he thinks he can get you to tell him what Albert is trying to keep hidden, he''ll use every dirty trick he can. I can even imagine him becoming violent with you after the war starts in earnest, if things go poorly."

    "What?" I blurted, shocked.

    Riko''s face softened a bit. "If things devolve into violence beyond a few scuffles, and perhaps even if there are only a few scuffles, he''s going to go to the prison colony. Commanding others to do premeditated violence is no different in Albert''s eyes than if you had taught your boars to attack men and then commanded them to do so."

    He shook his head slightly before continuing. "The captain is under pressure that I can imagine, and wish I couldn''t. I''m certain that he won''t consider violence against you, before conflict begins on a significant scale at least, because he''s hoping Stateman Urda finds a better way to resolve this. If things go poorly and he doesn''t get the information he wants from you, he''ll consider all options, and that won''t be a decision he''ll delegate to the lieutenants."

    I stared at Riko for several seconds before blinking and looking away. "You..." I had to pause to think. Nothing was making sense. "You seriously think he''d consider using violence to coerce me like the ancients did in their wars? Me, an ally, one of his militia?"

    "If it appears as if we won''t be able to protect what little we managed to harvest this year, and he has to weigh violence against one person against the lives of thousands in the hopes of an answer that might make a difference?" Riko whispered. "I know how hard a choice that would be for me, especially if I were already guilty of three violent offenses. The officers have training and experience with violence, as part of law enforcement. The decision might be easier for them."

    That still doesn''t make any sense.

    "The officers are having a hard enough time trying to get people to learn how to fight. I can''t even imagine what the militia would do if he were to try to use violence to coerce me, and people found out. He''d lose his perceived authority. Everyone would see him as a criminal."

    Riko smiled a sad smile. "I hope you''re right. It''s the same argument I used in a meeting while you were asleep earlier. It won''t do any good to get your information if the militia collapses due to a leadership crisis."

    So much is happening that I know nothing about.

    My head hurts. I need to get the conversation moving in a different direction.

    "So, the leader of the small group that attacked me..." I trailed off, leaving the sentence half-finished, with a questioning tone.

    "You were only hit once. We''re not sure what Albert''s reaction will be in regards to commands for violent actions that don''t result in harm to other people. It''s also possible that the rest of that group may have intentionally missed you." Riko shook his head. "The war has barely started. Nobody is starving. Yet. As things get worse over there, people will stop missing intentionally."

    I suddenly realized that Riko was a sergeant. In charge of scouts. He was going to give orders to scouts that would eventually lead to people injuring or killing other people. Those orders would lead to him being sent to the prison colony, even if he never hurt anyone himself. "Riko-"

    He nodded. "Yes. I''ll almost certainly be joining a lot of other people on a trip to the prison colonies if we don''t stop this before it gets started. Even if I never personally hurt anyone. I''ve known that from the time I decided to try and become part of leadership." He paused. "It''s virtually certain that the vast majority of the surviving militia from a large scale war will be going to prison colonies, Allen, except the few who are under sixteen, like you. If you survive."

    I closed my eyes. What could I say? I knew how much he cared for his family, and he was still a healthy man in late middle age. "Why didn''t you send-"

    My eyes popped open as Riko interrupted me, forcefully. "Not talking about that, Allen. You heard Marza and me discussing it." Riko pinned me with a glare. "Not your family business to discuss." A heartbeat later, he gently punched me on my good shoulder. "Yet."

    Riko turned his head, so he was staring at the door of the carriage. He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. A moment later, he had his chin resting on his two fists, their fingers interlaced.

    I said nothing. He was clearly attempting to figure out what he wanted to say next.

    After a few seconds, he spoke again. "If fighting starts and you haven''t relented and told the officers what you figured out, there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that Captain Marko will make certain everyone knows you are withholding knowledge that might allow us to take fewer casualties, and defend ourselves better. If the aftermath of the war is horrible, and you live, you might become a social pariah. That said, I know you, and I''m willing to trust your judgment unless you show me evidence of remarkable stupidity in the near future."

    What can I tell him?

    I reviewed the conversation with Albert in my head for a few seconds before I started to speak again. "I-"

    Riko interrupted me. "No. If you are about to offer to tell me about the agreement, don''t. It''s a temptation I don''t want. Despite your shirt-trick, I could tell that you''re desperate not to break that agreement with Albert, and not because he offered you a reward. If you somehow get an opportunity to tell Marza anything about the agreement before this conflict is over, I suggest that you not tell her." He stopped speaking for a second. "In fact, I''ll be highly upset with you if you do, because I don''t want her to have the same temptation I''m avoiding. Tell both of us after all this mess is done, if we all survive."

    We agreed on that much, at least. "I wasn''t going to tell you anything about the agreement, Riko, but there is something I can say." I took a deep breath and hoped I remembered the conversation with Albert clearly enough. "Look at me, because I want you to be able to tell Captain Marko you were watching me closely when I said this."

    Riko turned to me with a worried expression on his face. "Are you sure you can tell me what you''re about to say?"

    "Albert said nothing about me telling other people what he would do if I divulged what he wants concealed, so I can tell you this much." I took a deep breath and dry coughed into my hand to stabilize my quavering voice. "If I tell people what Albert and I agreed that I shouldn''t, Albert will go beyond denying us technology and easy access to free metals. He threatened to take literacy and civilization from us next. For however long it takes until humanity completely forgets what I figured out. Just destroying written records won''t work a second time. He knows that." I shuddered and met Riko''s eyes, holding them. "A return to a true stone age, Riko. I refuse to be responsible for that. I''ll find a way to end myself first."

    Riko whistled briefly between his teeth as he met my stare. "I... see." He then held his breath for a second before cursing loudly. "The verbal tradition for military knowledge. It''s forcing him to be more aggressive with us."

    "Yes." I carefully rubbed my injured right shoulder''s bandage with my good left hand and nodded. "That''s the impression he gave me. He specifically mentioned verbal traditions as being difficult to erase."

    "Albert might confirm to Stateman Urda what his response would be to your telling us what he doesn''t want us to know," Riko muttered to himself, barely audible.

    Riko reached out for the handle of the carriage door. "Allen, I need to go talk to Captain Marko, now. You can probably expect to speak to the officers again, tonight."

    "I understand. Doctor Sven will want to complain at me about my wound, I think." I touched the bandage on my arm, which was showing a few visible spots of red. "I''m leaking a bit."

    Riko stepped out of the carriage put his hands behind his lower back, pressing against his spine as he stretched his chest. Then straightened, and clapped twice before looking back towards me. "Go see the doctor then. At the Captain''s direction, Sergeant Covil has assigned you a pair of monitors. One of them will stay with you at all times when you are outside your carriage. You must stay within the camp perimeter unless specifically allowed to do otherwise. If you leave the camp, the monitors will not try to stop you, but they will blow an alarm horn."

    He can''t seriously believe I''d run.

    "Riko, I have too much to lose if I run. Besides that, running into woods I don''t know well, at night, smelling of blood, shaky on my feet, in a wilderness area with only one nearby farm? Chances are very good that I''d have broken bones from a fall, or be feeding something with sharp teeth before daylight."

    Riko''s expression grew a little softer, and he nodded curtly. I heard the sounds of another person approaching and Riko turned away from me. "Kevin, Allen needs to go to see Doctor Sven about his wound. You heard what I just told Allen. Does what I said match your orders, or have there been changes?"

    "It matches, Sergeant Gonzalez." A male voice answered.

    "Riko, is this really-"

    Riko quickly turned and poked his head back in the carriage door with an irritated expression. "Yes. It is necessary. Kevin and Hiro are doing what they have been ordered to do. For that matter, so am I. Don''t give them or me any grief. Let''s try to do this without giving anyone a reason to put you in restraints or sedate you. From what you''ve said to me, the last thing we want is for you to be drugged and singing like a bird. We only avoided that so far because Doctor Sven refused to allow it. Captain Marko can''t override him on medical matters without agreement from all the other officers, or orders from higher up in the chain of command. Quartermaster Brown backed Doctor Sven, earlier today. The captain is certainly escalating."

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    I''m not entirely sure Albert could be thwarted that easily. I thought, but didn''t say. Albert was going to keep me sane throughout my life so I wouldn''t accidentally spill the secret of large expansion chamber firearms in my dotage. I had no doubt that my body was also going to be prepared to deal with drugs administered in sufficient quantities to loosen my tongue.

    I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Yes, Sergeant Gonzalez."

    **

    I didn''t try to leave the carriage yet. Visiting doctor Sven could wait a few minutes, and I desperately needed to think.

    I grabbed a blank sheet of paper and started to write things I knew, in my terrible left-handed writing. I could feel something big moving around in the back of my mind. Pieces were trying to fall into place.

    ''1) Cannot advise military, per Albert.''

    ''2) Albert, by omission, allowed me to speak about the consequences of my offering what I know.''

    ''3) Albert is highly unlikely to have made an error by omission.''

    ''Conclusion. Scenario created intentionally.''

    I dropped my pencil on the lap desk and leaned back carefully, trying not to hurt my right shoulder.

    Just because the scenario is clearly intentional, it doesn''t mean I know what I''m supposed to do.

    I spoke out loud, muttering softly. "Albert, if this is the sort of mental gymnastics you force on humans that you engage with..."

    I stopped talking before I said something that might irritate Albert.

    Picking up the pencil once more, I tapped my lips with it a few times in deep thought before starting to scrawl in more of my newly horrible handwriting.

    ''Assume: Albert confirms his threat of devolvement of human civilization to a true stone age.''

    ''Consequences of attempting to use Albert himself as a threat.''

    ''1) Immediate political power.''

    ''2) Inability to use new political power because I have no clue what to do with it.''

    ''3) Can''t delegate the knowledge without risking Albert''s threats.''

    My pencil slowed down at the next thought.

    ''4) Seen as threat to all of civili...''

    I stared at the page, mind racing, body locking up as the pencil snapped in my hand.

    When I first met Brad, I had been on the edge of attacking him when I realized how dangerous he was. Later, in the discussion with Albert, I had felt sick when I realized the death and destruction I could become responsible for if I released firearms onto the world again.

    This is worse. Far worse. I am literally carrying the fate of all humanity in my head.

    Riko is smart enough to have already figured it out. He''s talking to Captain Marko right now.

    I folded the sheet quickly and jammed it into the sling around my right arm and then stood, stooped over, and let myself out of the carriage. As my feet hit the ground, I looked to each side and there was a man standing nearby, next to a stool. "Kevin, right."

    He nodded. "Right."

    "I need to go see Doctor Sven."

    "OK." He shrugged and said nothing else.

    In the dark, I couldn''t see his features clearly, but various fires, lanterns, and some moonlight let me see that he had his hair pulled back behind his head. He was watching me carefully, despite his lack of words. There was a horn on a strap across his chest, and he was very solidly built, bigger than Zeke, smaller than Edward. He was also carrying a staff in his right hand, and wearing heavy hunting leathers. As I looked at him, he took a step back to open space between us but did not seem afraid.

    Am I really starting to assess everyone I meet in terms of their potential physical threat?

    I turned away from him and stumbled slightly on my first step. He made no effort to assist me, keeping his distance.

    Thanks, Kevin. I thought, ungenerously.

    I regained my balance and started taking careful, deliberate steps towards the medical building, hoping I wouldn''t fall flat on my face.

    A couple minutes later, I walked through the door into the medical building.

    Doctor Sven looked at me from behind the crude timber table he was sitting behind. "Back so soon, Allen?"

    "Yes, sir. I seem to be leaking." I tapped my shoulder. "I also need to ask you for advice."

    "Everything seemed to be holding together nicely when I last changed the dressing. Have you been exerting yourself?"

    "Not intentionally, sir. I got upset a couple of times and tensed up. I felt the wound open up once. It didn''t feel like any stitches tore out, but it did bleed a bit."

    "OK, I''ll take a look." Doctor Sven nodded and motioned me to a chair next to his desk. He looked up in my direction again. "What about you?"

    Kevin''s voice came from behind me, startling me. I''d already forgotten about him. "I''m fine, sir. I have orders to follow Allen here, until further notice or when relieved."

    The doctor''s eyes darted between the two of us before he shook his head briefly. "Fine. Sit in one of the other chairs, not on a cot." His eyes settled on me, and his graying brows drew down in irritation. "Allen, you seem to be the focal point of a lot of strangeness today."

    "Nothing I wanted, doctor. I seem to be a chaos magnet today."

    Chuckling, Doctor Sven started removing my bandages, while leaving my arm in the sling. "I''d say that''s an understatement of gross proportions. I thought Captain Marko might suffer a stroke in the meeting we had about you earlier."

    "I heard that I have you to thank for not being drugged into a stupor right now." I paused. "That''s part of the second reason I came to you."

    "Talk to me about the second reason while I unwrap this present you brought me and see how annoyed I need to be with you."

    "Doctor, I''d prefer that you finish looking at my arm first. I''m not entirely certain how what I''m going to tell you is going to impact your ability to concentrate on my injury."

    "I''ve been doctoring people while they tell me their worries for nearly three times your entire lifespan, Allen."

    "I understand. I''d still like to wait. You know at least part of the story of what happened to me with Albert. What I want to ask you about is related."

    Doctor Sven grumbled. "I''ve heard quite enough about that already. You know I can be overruled, right?"

    "Yes, sir. Riko mentioned that. I would be speaking with him now, but he left to speak with Captain Marko before I realized what I''m bringing to you."

    "Sounding worse and worse, Allen." Doctor Sven finally unwound the last of the innermost bandages and started carefully teasing at the wound dressing to remove it. Underneath the dressing, there was a thin sheet of latex with lots of holes in it covering a ragged wound that was sure to leave me a very visible scar.

    After a brief examination through the mostly transparent latex, the doctor nodded. "Good. The stitches are still in place. You just broke the wound open a little." He daubed iodine on the wound, through the latex covering, before pressing a new dressing into place and wrapping it with a bandage.

    "You didn''t take your arm out of the sling, did you?"

    "No, sir. I just tensed my arms hard without thinking about it."

    He waggled his index finger at me as he sat back down again. "The stitches might not stay in place next time, especially if the wound swells much more. You don''t seem to be prone to severe swelling from wounds, but I''ll be very surprised if it''s not swollen more by tomorrow. Sleep with that shoulder raised. Now, what was the other thing you wanted to talk to me about?"

    I used my left hand to remove the folded paper from my sling under my right forearm, and handed it to him. "I wrote it down while I was thinking through it, sir. I think it is self-explanatory. I need input from someone whose advice I trust, who is in as high of a position of authority as possible."

    Doctor Sven reached out slowly and took the paper from me, staring at me the whole time. "I''m not going to like reading this, am I? Are you dragging me into some mess with the captain and lieutenants?"

    "If I said I had any idea where this might lead, I''d be lying, sir. That''s why I''m here."

    With a sigh, the doctor closed his eyes briefly, opened them, and looked down at the paper as he unfolded it.

    "Allen, your handwriting..." He glanced up at me. "Left-handed writing for a right-handed person. Sorry."

    "I. Uh. No offense taken, sir." I couldn''t help but smile a little.

    The doctor''s eyes darted back and forth as he read, and he stiffened after a few seconds. "I do not need this."

    Reaching into a shirt pocket, Doctor Sven pulled out a tiny pouch, carefully tapping out a little pill and swallowing it with a gulp of water from a glass on his desk. He stared at me, and his fingers twitched on the paper. "Nitroglycerine, if you''re curious. Dying of a heart attack right now isn''t at the top of my list of things to do."

    "What? Do you need-" I looked over at Kevin, who was watching the two of us closely, and looked like he might be getting ready to stand.

    "Stop. Sit. Don''t pop those stitches, Allen. When I feel that tightness, I take a pill. I''ve never actually had anything worse than a flutter."

    "Oh. OK." I looked at his face, checking to see if he''d meet my eyes.

    Doctor Sven did meet my eyes, and grinned and said "Yes, really." as he dropped the little pouch of pills back into his shirt pocket and folded my sheet of paper back up.

    "I was expecting some questions, doctor?"

    He held the folded paper between us, and I reached forward to accept it.

    "Seemed pretty obvious to me, Allen. No, I won''t help you commit suicide."

    I shook my head and stared at him. "What? No."

    The doctor cocked his head a little to my left. "Really? That wasn''t what you were going to ask? You consider yourself to be a threat to all of civilization because of whatever it is locked up in your head, and permanently solving the problem hasn''t crossed your mind?"

    "Absolutely not, Doctor." I shook my head and scratched my neck with my left hand as I stared over his shoulder. "I really don''t appreciate you giving me the idea."

    "Oh, you''re a smart boy, perhaps even brilliant in ways that I''d rather not think about too deeply. You would have thought of it eventually." Another smile that was almost condescending. "If you come to me with something horribly wrong with your body that I can''t fix, we can talk about a final solution on your terms. Otherwise, no."

    I realized that I had already thought about the idea, and even mentioned it to Riko, just not seriously. Now I wanted to think about it, which would get me nowhere. Perhaps literally. "This is serious, doctor." I snapped.

    The doctor''s eyes met mine, and I couldn''t look away. "Indeed. It is. And if you weren''t asking me about a way to end your life, I have no idea why you came to me."

    "What do I do, doctor? What would you do?"

    He broke eye contact and leaned back in his chair for a moment, staring at me. "Oh. I suppose I''d seek out someone older than me in a position of authority, who I respected, and ask them what they would do." There was no expression on his face at all.

    Is he really being flippant?

    I tapped the fingers of my left hand on the table, slowly, staring at the doctor, trying not to laugh, scream, or lean forward and strangle him. He was clearly expecting a response. "I see. That does sound like a rather good idea." I was not even attempting to hide my unhappiness.

    The doctor''s eyes drifted down to where I was still thumping my fingers, then back up to my face. Finally, his face sagged, and he sighed. "Allen, if you''re asking me if I think you should try to use Albert''s threats politically, somehow, you''re asking the wrong person. I''m a doctor."

    Well, that wasn''t very useful.

    I started to stand, and Doctor Sven put his right hand over my left while saying "Wait a moment. I''m not done."

    I looked down at him and could tell that he was trying to think, so I finished standing and kept some weight on my hand to help support me as I waited for him to say something more. I heard Kevin standing behind me.

    "Allen, I want you to consider your discussion with Albert very carefully. It''s extremely rare that he allows people to discuss his agreements with them in anything but the most oblique manner. He''s inhumanly good at mentally boxing people in and preventing them from ever wanting to break agreements with him." He looked up at me and took a deep breath, blew it out forcefully, and then continued. "If I''m putting all the pieces together right, Albert is preventing you from giving us more deadly weapons, which I have to agree with."

    "After hearing the sorts of things that you already came up with, the idea that you came up with something worse, that scares me, as a doctor. Do you know what will happen in and around our towns and cities if there are sieges like what happened in ancient days?" He shook his head.

    I had thought about it. I nodded. "I have, sir. It''s not pretty."

    "No, it''s not. It''s about as far from pretty as it''s possible to get. Part of the reason we don''t have plagues despite our current technology base is because we know germ theory, and how to dispose of refuse and keep ourselves clean. Hygiene and waste disposal are likely to be the first things to go in a siege, on both sides, followed by malnutrition. Walled towns and cities will allow future sieges that might kill millions over time."

    I closed my eyes and nodded. I hadn''t imagined it could be that bad. But thinking about it, and remembering some of the horror stories of ancient warfare, I realized it was true.

    Doctor Sven continued as I nervously shifted my weight from one foot to another. "Albert allowed that idea. Don''t think he couldn''t have prevented it. He is perfectly capable of injecting people with drugs that will make them unconscious and prevent the formation of long-term memories, and he was almost certainly watching your brainstorming sessions very carefully. There are several documented cases that I can think off the top of my head where entire groups of individuals went unconscious and lost hours of memories."

    Is there a point to this? He didn''t do that to me.

    "But what does that mean, sir?"

    Doctor Sven looked at me sharply again. "Think. If Albert is willing to admit you have knowledge in your head that, if released, would cause him to devolve humanity to barbarism, then he''s playing a deep game. A game I''m afraid to interfere with."

    I heard Kevin suck in a startled breath behind me.  I turned a little in his direction to allow me to see him in my peripheral vision.

    Doctor Sven closed his eyes for a moment, speaking without opening them. "I''m more afraid of you trying to figure it out on your own, than what might happen if I direct you to someone else that might do the right thing."

    Doctor Sven looked at Kevin, and then back to me. "Allen, you need to talk to Captain Marko because Albert didn''t just stop you from helping us create new weapons. He made you into a weapon."

 Chapter 25

    "Sir, that doesn''t... That can''t make sense." I looked away from him, staring at the glass of water on his desk, trying to compose my thoughts.

    After a moment, Doctor Sven replied softly. "Maybe you''re right, but what else is could it be? Albert has known about verbal traditions for a very long time now, and he knows they are very difficult to get rid of. And that''s when it''s hobbyist martial artists maintaining them. A government institution is going to be far more resistant to losing verbal traditions, if verbal traditions are the only way warfare knowledge can be reliably maintained."

    Doctor Sven stood up and collected his coat from the back of the crude chair he''d been sitting on. "Don''t think that Albert didn''t understand exactly what he was going to be setting in motion when he removed the warfare training documents from their caches."

    What? That''s-

    More highly unpleasant pieces began falling into place, but it still didn''t work. There wasn''t a reason.

    "Doctor, if Albert deliberately created a scenario where warfare knowledge would be stored in a verbal tradition, as opposed to simply trimming highly objectionable bits out of collected knowledge-"

    He interrupted me. "Then he was setting us up for failure. Yes."

    I looked up to see him looking down at me, with a sad expression. "If it''s any consolation, it''s extremely unlikely that Albert will try to rush things. If I''m right, it''ll be generations before our civilization begins to lose knowledge at an accelerated pace. Your children and grandchildren probably won''t live in a world much different from what we know."

    No.

    I slammed my left fist down on the desk in frustration, and the doctor''s water glass jumped, falling over and spilling into my lap.

    Doctor Sven looked at my hand and then the glass, then back up at my eyes, saying nothing as the glass slowly rolled with a rattling sound towards the edge of the rough grained table.

    I shook my head. "Sorry, doctor. It still doesn''t make sense." I had collected the rolling glass before it fell off the table while pushing my chair back slightly so the water still on the table would drip onto the floor instead of my lap. "If Albert was making plans to devolve us further, why talk to me? Why didn''t he just start eroding human civilization slowly, without giving humans the hope that we could prevent it? He could have simply pretended to go insane, and stopped talking to Countymen and Statemen."

    "Trying to understand why Albert does what he does is a quick path to a headache, Allen."

    "But this is torture, sir," I whispered. "If he set up this entire scenario centuries ago so that the next time there was a war, a verbal tradition would be implemented-"

    "Albert is not entirely without emotions, I don''t think." Doctor Sven interrupted me. "Like guilt. We made him. He''s already caused one mass die-off of humans by removing access to most technology and almost all free metals. Maybe he designed this scenario so that he could enact the course of action that he wanted, without feeling that he was responsible for it?"

    That''s...

    I looked at Doctor Sven. He wasn''t even looking at me. He was looking from window to window.

    He''s not talking to me.

    I closed my eyes for a second, hard enough to create bright lights behind my eyelids as I was thinking.

    Opening my eyes again, I breathed out a shallow breath. "Doctor. If Albert is still sane, then he has a reason for what he''s doing, and he''s going to ignore you. If he''s not sane, trying to psychoanalyze him might make him angry."

    "You might be right." The doctor shook his head and looked down at me again. "What''s my other choice? I can do something, or I can do nothing."

    "Sometimes, doing nothing is the only reasonable choice." I offered, tentatively.

    He shook his head. "Not in this case. Albert clearly contrived this. I won''t go as far as saying Albert started the war by somehow interfering with the locusts this year. However, I have no doubt that he''s been ready for war, with a mind-boggling number of contingency plans prepared and kept ready at all times." His eyes continued to look from window to window. "Am I supposed to believe that he''s dropped the fate of the world into the lap of a fifteen-year-old with anger management issues, in hopes that things won''t fall apart?"

    "How could he know I-"

    "Hypnotism. Drugs. Subliminal programming. Even at our current technology level, we can make those things work in a crude way, especially hypnotism. Allen, I have a difficult time imagining what Albert can do, even with my medical training and experience. You can''t have any real appreciation of how easy it would be for someone with the knowledge and technology of the ancients to create this scenario in a civilization as backward as ours. Especially when that someone can think as deeply and thoroughly as Albert. That said, I''m certain my estimation of Albert''s potential is far less than what he could do."

    "But why me?" I demanded. "Why not Captain Marko if he wanted someone to use it constructively somehow, or Brad if he wanted everything to fall apart?"

    "You were alone, far from anyone. You think you had an idea. Did you? Or did Albert knock you out, give you a frightening idea, and program you to think the idea was yours?"

    I thought about it for a second. "Talking about that is not a good idea."

    Doctor Sven stared at me for several seconds, then shook his head. "You''re intended to break the agreement with Albert. He could easily have conditioned you to forget what you knew, otherwise."

    "No." I shook my head.

    The doctor looked at me with sad, patient expression. "Go on."

    I took a breath and started trying to explain, hoping I wasn''t going to infuriate him. "You keep saying how incredibly intelligent Albert is, but you also seem convinced that there is only a short list of possible goals, and you know all of them. A few moments ago, you were trying to talk to him, knowing he''s listening to me. You were either insinuating that you thought he might be going insane, or trying to make him reconsider what you think he is doing, or both." I paused. "You pointed out some things I hadn''t considered, but you have no more idea than I do what Albert is planning."

    At first the doctor''s nearly black facial features drew tighter under his short, tightly curled white hair as he stared at me. Abruptly, he closed his eyes and shook his head a bit. After another brief hesitation, he laughed once sharply and cut himself off. "You''re right."

    He turned away from me and appeared to be staring out the tiny window behind his desk. "I''m not sure it matters that you''re right because your only sane option is never to use the knowledge. As far as I can see, that makes you viable only as a weapon for Albert to use against humanity, to justify his planned actions against us. If we try to use your potential as a weapon against other humans, it''s clearly an empty threat. The consequences of you releasing the information is worse for humanity than what we could do to each other."

    "Are you sure that Stateman Urda can''t-"

    "Of course I''m not sure. She''s brilliant. I''ll freely admit she''s on a whole different level than me, and she''s focused on politics, not medicine. That''s why you need to talk to Captain Marko, so he can confer via messenger or prism tower with her. If she does figure out a way to use you, it still doesn''t make sense. Like you said earlier, why you? Why didn''t Albert just give her the information directly? Why put the information in your hands? No disrespect, Allen, but you''re fifteen, with a history of being hot-headed."

    I stood up, carefully. "No offense taken, doctor. I know I have a temper. You didn''t give me any answers, but you helped me understand more of the questions."

    Doctor Sven snorted as I was standing. "Glad I was able to do something useful." His eyes flickered up and down my body as I stood. "You seem a bit wobbly there, but you walked in by yourself. Why?"

    "Kevin is supposed to watch me from a distance, apparently, so I don''t overpower him and run off into the woods or something."

    Doctor Sven looked back and forth between Kevin and me before speaking. "Kevin, whose orders?"

    Kevin spoke from behind me. "Sergeant Covil''s orders, sir."

    "We''ll be changing those orders then. You''re to give Allen a shoulder to lean on so he doesn''t fall and break his neck wandering around while he should be in bed, drinking lots of fluids and rebuilding blood volume." Doctor Sven was staring past my shoulder, gaze unwavering. I moved a little to my left to avoid being between him and Kevin.

    Behind me, Kevin finally said "Yes, sir."

    "Tell Sergeant Covil to come to me if he has a problem with that. I don''t think he will. Not after what I just heard from Allen." He paused. "One way or another, Allen, I hope you don''t expect to enjoy much freedom in the near future."

    "What?" I looked at Doctor Sven, and I''m sure my face was a study in ignorance.

    "You still haven''t thought about how your conversation with Albert is going to affect you beyond what the militia will want you to do." He smiled sadly. "So focused on how Albert''s revelations will affect the world around you, but not seeing the personal impact. Think about it." He waved a hand at me. "Unless there''s something else, I''m going to the officer''s tent to check on my other patient."

    "Nothing else, sir." I said, distracted, as I tried to start thinking about what he had meant about my personal life.

    As he walked past me to the door, the doctor slapped me lightly on my left shoulder. "You need to go back to your carriage and rest, Allen. Get a water skin or cameltote from supply if you don''t have one and put it in easy reach of your bed. Doctor''s orders. You won''t get your equipment back tonight, maybe not even tomorrow. The officers are looking at everything that the scouts collected very closely."

    Do they think they''ll find Albert''s plans in a cipher on my cameltote?

    I restrained a smile before I realized that there was a reason to worry.

    I remember burning the pages from the notebook. But did I burn enough of them? Can they trace out what I was doing based on the indentations left in the papers that I didn''t burn?

    "Yes, sir. I''ll do that." I managed to say as I tried to pull together memories from immediately before Albert''s appearance.

    I didn''t have a spare water container, so we walked to the quartermaster''s wagons first. Kevin allowed me to balance myself on his right shoulder as I tried to remember what I''d written down on the pad and paper. The first page had been an image, I knew, the next several pages had been equations and calculations. I couldn''t remember for sure what I had been calculating on the last two or three pages.

    Several minutes later, I was walking with Kevin back to my carriage after collecting a cameltote from supply and filling it with boiled and lightly salted water from the kitchen. The scouts had clearly found and returned the cattail root. I could smell the roots being boiled as I did my best to ignore the other, meatier scents coming out of the kitchen.

    They weren''t pets, Allen.

    Fortunately, Kevin didn''t seem to want to talk as we walked. I had more than enough to think about without trying to maintain a conversation.

    Kevin settled himself onto his stool outside my door as I opened the carriage door. Once inside, I arranged most of my spare clothing and pillows on my bed against the wall of the carriage. After creating the nest, I got into bed, laying on my left side with my back against the outer wall of the carriage.

    The first thing I needed to do was write home and ask someone to come collect the swine and the carriage.

    Everyone,

    Please excuse the terrible handwriting and share news with Marza. I''ve been injured, again, by people this time. Not serious. A long, ragged cut through the skin and maybe nicking the muscle of my right shoulder. I should be able to work again in a couple days, and be back at a hundred percent within a couple weeks. It''s a long story, better told when my handwriting is better, or in person. The short version is that I ran into eight New Tokyo scouts while I was alone in the woods with my sounder. I was lucky and nearly avoided their ambush because I noticed several jays scolding something the swine were ignoring. We were chased. Bigboy, Hoss, and I were injured by arrows. The boars raged after they figured out who hurt them. I ran. The boars injured five New Tokyo scouts as the sows and I fled the fight. One of the scouts and both boars died. Without the boars, I can''t take the sows into the forest safely to forage. I''m asking Zeke to come return my sows to the farm, along with the carriage. I understand that it may become necessary to cull some of my sows if the second harvest is poor...

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    The rest of the letter was for Zeke. I explained that Speedy had apparently taught other swine how to pull up cattail root. I urged him to breed Tubby, Speedy''s sire, to all the full-grown sows before culling him this winter, if that became necessary.    I also asked very nicely for Speedy to be kept alive, even if all the rest of my sows had to be culled.

    I specifically mentioned nothing about Albert.

    I should never have mentioned Albert, and just stopped offering insights on violence.

    Being told by Albert that I could say something didn''t mean it had been my best option to do so. It would have stressed my relationship with Riko, perhaps, but if I had simply accepted a position with the new, more aggressive scouting units that were being created, nobody would have been terribly upset.

    Or maybe they would have. It doesn''t matter. What could have happened, didn''t.

    As I folded up and addressed the letter to my family, I did my best to avoid thinking about anything but the present. The next thing I needed to do was write Marza.

    Marza,

    Sorry for the handwriting, I am writing with my left hand. My right shoulder was injured by an arrow this morning. Please do not be concerned. My arm is being kept immobilized as much as possible to heal faster, not because I was badly injured. I''m sure I could write with my right hand now, but I am following doctor''s orders.

    A lot has happened in the last day. Several things that I can''t write about, but will be able to tell you more about in person when this is all over. I wanted to write and tell you that I am well, even if injured. I also wanted to let you know that I thoroughly enjoyed every one of the flatbreads that you sent. They are now all gone, as I took the last several out the other day on an overnight foraging trip.

    You can get a few more details from my family about what happened to me. I apologize for not rewriting it for you, but my left hand is cramping from writing with a broken pencil. I had to explain clearly to my family what is happening, as I am asking Zeke to come retrieve my sows and carriage.

    I would say that I wished you were here, but I''d be lying. If you were here, I would be as terrified for you as you are no doubt worried for me.

    XOXO,

    Allen

    I managed to scrawl a legible address for Marza on the second letter. After that struggle, I carefully put the broken pencil, paper, and lap desk in a cabinet, took a drink of water, and got out of bed.

    "I need to post letters, Kevin," I announced as I carefully stepped out of the carriage.

    He stood from his stool as he looked in my direction "Your mail must go through Lieutenant Davis."

    What?

    I stopped, motionless, staring at him in the near-dark.

    Kevin shrugged. "Not my decision. You want to send the mail, or not?"

    It took a couple seconds to clear the anger out of my mind sufficiently to make a decision. The idea of someone reading my mail without my permission wasn''t as troubling as the idea of not being able to send mail at all.

    "I do."

    I also want to know if I''m a prisoner, or not. I don''t remember being charged with a crime.

    About three minutes later we were standing in front of the officer''s tent, and I was talking to Riko, who had emerged when I had asked to see the lieutenant.

    "Riko, I was told my mail needs to go through Lieutenant Davis."

    He sighed. "It does. I was not aware of that when we spoke, sorry."

    "What crime am I being charged with?" I asked, without raising my voice very much.

    Riko looked up at me with a quick motion of his head. He grabbed my left arm with his right fist. As he held my arm hard enough that I couldn''t pull away easily, he looked up at me with a grim expression. "Do you want to be charged with a crime, Allen? If you go too far here, you might be charged with insubordination. The officers are legally allowed to give us orders. That includes them having the right to demand full accounting of your actions, and you have been admitting to censoring what you are telling them."

    I took a deep breath, and held it for a slow count to ten, then released it slowly. "They would prefer that Albert eradicate human civilization, and perhaps shift his grand sociobiological human experiment into something more like livestock farming?"

    "No. They would prefer that you simply shut up while they try to verify your story. Give me the letter, Allen. I will give it to the lieutenant. He will read it and probably copy it. I will make sure it gets posted."

    "Letters."

    Riko gave me a hard stare. "Letter or letters. Correspondence. Stop being hard-headed. I know you can act sensibly, and now is the time to do it."

    "Has Captain Marko sent the request for confirmation?" I demanded, trying to keep my voice down.

    Captain Marko''s voice spoke from inside the tent, sharply. "Yes. I did. By prism tower and relay runner. About five minutes after our first conversation, and again, about five minutes after Sergeant Gonzalez advised me of the threats you told him Albert is supposed to have made."

    Riko''s left hand moved like a whip, his index finger raised in front of my nose so fast that I backed away a step, startled. "Say nothing, Allen. Go back to your carriage. We should have an answer late tonight or tomorrow morning. Night transmissions through prisms are slow, and there are low clouds tonight."

    Suddenly, there was amused laughter from inside the tent, accompanied by the sound of slow hand clapping. Laughter from a voice that somehow seemed familiar, but I couldn''t place it. As the laughter stopped, a new voice started speaking. "Brilliant. Whoever wrote this script needs to sell it after the war. I''d pay to see it performed on stage. With better actors, of course. The fellow outside needs voice coaching."

    My mind replayed a horrifying moment when I had heard a man yell "Shoot them!"

    It''s him.

    My anger flared, and my consciousness shrank to a pinpoint focus that only recognized threats and opposition.

    I ripped my left arm out of Riko''s grasp and used the newly-freed hand to capture Riko''s raised hand in front of my face before he could move, holding it with all of my strength. I wasn''t going to be silenced. Not for this.

    "I recognize that voice," I spoke as coldly as I could manage, trying to push my rage into my voice so I could control myself. "It''s the voice of an incompetent leader, unskilled archer, and failed murderer. Maybe you''d like to talk to Brad and try to improve your murder technique."

    I released Riko''s hand and turned. Adrenaline gave me the stability I needed to stalk rapidly away from the person I wanted to attack, towards my carriage.

    The last time I had been so blindingly angry was when I had found Rikard attempting to rape Marza in the woods. I struggled internally for several minutes to stop myself from walking back and pushing into the officer''s tent to attack the man that had tried to kill me and managed to kill both of my boars.

    When I started thinking clearly again, I was leaning my chest against my carriage''s door. My left arm slung over the roof, gripping the luggage rail with a grip so tight that my knuckle joints creaked audibly as I relaxed my hand. I could feel wetness on my right shoulder again.

    Albert''s going to have to take care of that if it''s serious. I''m not bothering Doctor Sven again.

    Someone moved nearby, and my head snapped to my right. Kevin. He was several meters away, his staff held in both hands, planted vertically on the ground in front of him. He was watching me very intently.

    As my head turned to face him, he stiffened. Otherwise, he barely moved his body as he spoke slowly and carefully. "If you''re listening, Doctor Sven sent a sedative. You have to take it. If you refuse or try to leave the carriage, I will call for assistance, and you will be dosed forcibly."

    Is everyone against me?

    "Fine. Where is it?"

    He said nothing, only pointing at the stool he had been sitting on earlier. There was a folded piece of paper with a rock holding it in place on the stool. I picked it up and opened the door of the carriage.

    He coughed as I put my foot on the step under the door. "I have to see you take the pills."

    I stopped and turned back to stare at him. "Of course you do," I growled. "Let me get my cameltote and I''ll take them in front of you."

    Out of nowhere, Kevin changed the subject. "I''m not sure if I should be afraid of you, or hope that you''re standing next to me if I ever have to fight for real."

    I shook my head. "I hope the idiots in charge at least wait until the late planting is harvested before they decide to start fighting." I looked at him as I reached into the carriage and retrieved my cameltote from its hanging peg. "Again."

    Kevin nodded. "You and me both." I could barely make out his face in the dim light from the lightly fogged moon, nearby lanterns, and campfires. He seemed to bite his lip for a moment. "If it makes you feel better, Sergeant Covil said you''re being drugged because you scared everyone in the officer''s tent except Fobi into thinking you might try to kill the prisoner tonight."

    "Everyone except Fobi?"

    "Fobi just laughed and wouldn''t say anything. That seemed to make everyone else more worried."

    I don''t understand this.

    "Why are you talking to me, Kevin? I have a pretty good idea what you just saw."

    Kevin set his chin down on top of his staff, never taking his eyes off me. "Seems like I saw a survivor. First the snake, and then eight-to-one odds in the woods. Rikard is scared to death of you. Some of your neighbors knew why, so the whole camp knows now. You''ve easily got the worst temper of anyone I''ve ever met, but you walked away from..." he waved back towards the officer''s tent, "that, without going homicidal. A lot of us are scared of you, but some of us are trying to figure out if we should start acting more like you. At least for the duration of this war, or whatever it is. Take your pills and get some sleep."

    I looked at the pills in my hand and lifted them up to sniff them. No scent. Touching them with my tongue proved that they were sugar-coated. They looked to be about the right size for a human sedative dose of opium, about the same that we would use for a sow.

    I popped the pills into my mouth and carefully broke their sugar shells without chewing the contents. I didn''t taste almonds or excessive bitterness. I carefully crushed the pills, ready to spit them out at the slightest taste of cyanide, strychnine, or anything that wasn''t opium.

    Paranoia. Do I think someone might try to poison me? Do I think that Doctor Sven would agree to it, even if they ordered him to?

    I smiled at the thought of sugar-coated poison pills. Then I tried to chase other ridiculous thoughts out of my mind as I suspended my cameltote several inches over my mouth with my head held back so I couldn''t backwash pills into the container. After I poured half a mouthful from the spout, I vigorously swished the water in my mouth before swallowing it with the chewed pills.

    I repeated the pour, swish, and swallow twice more before looking at Kevin.

    He nodded. "Thank you, Allen."

    I''m surprised he didn''t ask to look in my mouth.

    I arranged myself carefully in my nest of clothing and pillows to support me on my left side. As I started feeling myself relax, I was afraid Albert would repudiate me. Shortly before darkness claimed me, I was more afraid that he wouldn''t.

 Chapter 26

    When I woke, it was still dark. My mouth was dry, but I wasn''t dizzy. Something was wrong, and it took me several seconds to figure out what. I eventually realized that I was confused because I wasn''t confused. My thoughts felt coherent, and that didn''t make sense.

    The opium had knocked me out. I was sure about that, but I had been expecting disorientation. I could remember Granpa under the influence of opium. Even after his leg healed, he still needed light doses to help him sleep on some nights, for more than a year. Invariably, the next morning he would be groggy and mentally slow for a couple hours. I had taken about twice what Granpa took to help him sleep, and weighed a lot less than Granpa, especially before he had lost so much muscle mass.

    Even though I was startled by my clear-headedness, I was happy that Albert had interfered with how opium would affect my thoughts. Not needing to worry about being drugged and taken advantage of in interrogation while I was mentally incapacitated was a huge weight off my mind. I was even happier that he had allowed the drug to knock me out. The possibility of having to remain conscious through major surgery wasn''t something I wanted to consider.

    Unless I slept more than a day?

    I slowly sat up in bed with small movements, careful to put as little stress as possible on my right shoulder, and reached out into the darkness with my left hand. My fingers found my new cameltote quickly, and I tested its weight. It was still nearly full. My mouth wasn''t dry enough for me to have slept through a full day. I could imagine scenarios where people might have filled the tote for me while I slept, but they seemed too unlikely to give them credence.

    I drank several large swallows of water before hanging the cameltote back on its peg.

    Instead of laying back in bed, I looked out one of the east side carriage windows. I could see the barest hint of dawn on the horizon. It wouldn''t be more than a few minutes before I could see the difference between a white thread and a black thread. I had woken up clear-headed, and at a good hour.

    I hope the officers will let me do something useful to keep my mind busy while they figure out what they want to do with me.

    I decided to save deeper thoughts for later. Being out from under blankets without pants on in late summer morning temperatures was not a situation I cared to be in for any longer than necessary. I was already starting to shiver a bit after a few seconds.

    Normally, I could dress in the dark, but I''d piled all my clothing onto my bed to make a nest that would support me as I slept. I found matches and lit my alcohol lantern before finding clothing in the bed-nest and dressed myself as quickly as possible. I could hear the swine grunting softly under me as I dressed. They had become accustomed to the sounds of me waking and dressing in the carriage, and would be ready and waiting to go eat when I stepped outside.

    I didn''t have a swine treat bag. It was either lost or with the rest of my gear. I grabbed a handful of treats from the big bag and put them in my pants pocket before I stepped out of the carriage.

    As my feet hit the ground, I heard a new voice. "Good morning, young man."

    I turned towards the speaker as he stood. He was a very small man, no more than chest-high on me, and not much thicker. I could barely pick out the staff he held in one hand.

    "You must be Hiro?"

    "I am." He nodded. In the near darkness, I saw a face I did not recognize. Balding, with short, very dark hair in full retreat from heavy, bushy brows. He had a wide face and lantern jaw. More than that, I couldn''t see yet.

    "I need to take my swine to the kitchen garbage pit. I''m still allowed to move freely within the camp?"

    "You are. I will follow you and offer support if needed." He took a step forward.

    I didn''t feel woozy at all. "I think I''ll be fine, but if you stay within arm''s reach, I''d appreciate it."

    His head tilted slightly to the side. "You were supposed to have taken a sedative dose of opium last night, and Kevin said you were a little weak from blood loss before that."

    I didn''t want to lie, but I also didn''t want to tell everyone that Albert was protecting me from mind-altering drugs somehow.

    I tried for partial truths. "Both true, but I''ve got a bit of a hyperactive metabolism. Almost no body fat, since I was a toddler. I heal quickly, and I guess I burned the opium out of my system faster than normal." I paused and looked down to start untying the spout of the cameltote. "I should probably drink a bit more water for my kidneys."

    I drank more from my cameltote, using that as an excuse to not meet his eyes.

    Hiro clearly didn''t fully believe me, but he didn''t call me out as a liar either, so it was good enough.

    I let the sows out from under the carriage. They were nervous. I could smell pork cooking. They certainly would as well, far more strongly than me.

    Hiro collected his staff and walked beside me, to my left, staying close enough that I could reach out to him if I needed a shoulder.

    After I had settled the sows into the garbage pile behind the kitchen, Hiro and I collected our morning bread. I could smell pine, pork, and boar taint as we got in line for morning bread. The boars had been nearing rut. The only way to prevent boar taint this time of year would have been to separate the boars from the sows for a month.

    Normally a butcher would send fat from a tainted boar to a candle-maker or feed it to chickens or dogs, and mix tainted meat with lots of spices and fat from untainted animals to make hot sausages. The kitchen, however, had clearly used lard from the boars while making the bread, and it seemed like they tried to cover it up with the taste of pine. Nobody would be enjoying that breakfast.

    Not that anyone would have cared for pine-flavored bread, even without boar taint.

    I managed to get Mrs. Zeta''s attention when I was at the front of the line, and she approached the big kitchen window to talk to me. I stood to one side of the line, looking in the window as she approached.

    The heavy-set woman put her hand through the window and touched my forearm lightly as she looked up at me. "You paid a heavy price for that cattail root, Allen. My condolences." She seemed sincere.

    I swallowed. "I did, but the boars saved the sows and me. That was their job though I never expected them to fight people."

    She nodded and patted my arm again. "You needed to speak to me? Mealtimes are busy. I can''t give you much time without good reason."

    I could respect that. I''d seen her working. Running a kitchen for well over six hundred people wasn''t a trivial job. "Yes, Mrs. Zeta. Please don''t put anything made from the boars in the refuse pile. This breed of swine are sensitive to being exposed to food made from other swine, a lot like dogs shouldn''t eat dogs."

    "I see." She paused. "I''ll have someone check with the mahouts, scouts, and hunters to see if they want the wastes from today. If not it''ll go to the jakes. The rest has already gone to the tanner and the dogs." She paused and nodded at me. "That means the refuse pile will not get much added to it for the next three meals. Is that all?"

    There were already two men and a woman lined up behind Mrs. Zeta, all wearing impatient faces as they looked at me. I nodded. "That''s all. Thank you, Mrs. Zeta." The impatient faces disappeared, and I was given a thankful nod by one of the three as Mrs. Zeta began to turn around to face her undercooks.

    I looked at the small loaf of bread in my left hand as Hiro and I walked around the building, back to where the sows were busily rooting through the kitchen refuse pile. I didn''t want to eat the loaf, but I had to. The flatbreads Marza had made me were gone, and I certainly didn''t have the luxury of starving myself, especially not when wounded. I also couldn''t go out and forage for myself with the sows. The sows could eat grass, but I would have to go fairly far from camp to find much human-edible forage, and that would certainly not be allowed.

    Asking for food made just for me would be absurd. Not from a kitchen cooking for so many. Without my having any real choice but to eat food made from the boars, the sows would certainly be uncomfortable in my presence for a couple days. I could only hope they would remain tractable to direct commands.

    I found a stump near the garbage pit and quickly ate the terrible tasting bread. Then I washed my mouth out with water from my cameltote. Hiro, fortunately, didn''t seem interested in conversation. In fact, there was almost no conversation in camp other than complaints as people ate the bread.

    Perhaps I won''t see so many people looking at my swine with bacon thoughts after this.

    Time to think was what I needed more than anything else, and I wasn''t doing anything else while the sows ate. I doubted I would be able to figure out what Albert was trying to do, but I might be able to rule out some things that he was clearly not trying to do.

    Concentrating first on things I could understand was a clear priority. If Albert had gone insane, then all humanity could do was hope he wouldn''t destroy us before he ceased functioning.

    First assumption: Albert is sane.

    If Albert is sane, then he remains a machine intelligence guided by data, not instincts.

    Second assumption: Albert does not act without reason.

    While I wasn''t impressed with Doctor Sven''s logic concerning Albert''s motivations, discounting his medical knowledge would be foolish. He seemed extremely confident when he said Albert could have edited or erased my memories. In fact, Albert himself had said he could reprogram me to do what he wanted if it was important enough. I could only hope that preventing humanity from entering a real stone age was important enough.

    Third assumption: Albert allowed me to retain my memories.

    So far, I had simply retraced Doctor Sven''s logic. But all Doctor Sven saw in the future was me getting angry and giving Albert a reason to take action against humanity on a global scale. He seemed to believe that it was Albert''s intent that I should do so.

    That scenario was incredibly frightening. At the same time, it made no sense if Albert was acting rationally. Why would Albert need me to be a scapegoat for his decision?

    Remember the first assumption. Albert is sane.

    After a little thought, it seemed obvious that the question I needed to answer was why Albert allowed me to retain my memories. Clearly, what I''d figured out shouldn''t be made public knowledge, so there was undoubtedly a reason he hadn''t simply removed or adjusted my memories.

    Fourth assumption: I am expected to avoid divulging what I know, but having the knowledge is required for some reason.

    A very large piece of the puzzle fell into place, suddenly, almost feeling like a physical blow.

    Not just ''some reason.'' It''s a test.

    My thoughts scattered, abandoning me as my eyes popped open. I found myself staring at my swine with an empty mind as a voice intruded.

    "Are you well, Allen?" Hiro''s voice.

    I shook my head and looked over at him. He was sitting on a stump nearby, watching me. "Yes, why?"

    "You grunted like you were in pain."

    "An unpleasant thought, Hiro. One of many. Not physical pain."

    As I spoke to Hiro, I looked towards my sows. Speedy was usually a good indicator of when the rest of the sows were getting close to satiated. She wasn''t eating or exploring. She wasn''t coming over to get her head scratched. She was just standing there next to the rest of the sows, staring at me, clearly nervous. I could expect that behavior, or worse, from all the sows, for at least a week.

    I stood and blew my whistle briefly before calling out a ''follow'' command. All nine sows followed, but they were hesitant, requiring treats to get them under the carriage.

    After I had the sows back under the carriage, Hiro spoke again. "I''ve seen them follow you before, and they never seemed that skittish. Did losing the boars bother them that much?"

    I shook my head. "They don''t care that the boars are gone. They do care that we''re eating the boars."

    "Oh, yes, you mentioned that to Mrs. Zeta. How much like dogs are they?"

    I was getting tired of explaining the behavior of my swine to everyone, but Hiro was being polite. "They are smarter than normal farm pigs but not as smart as most dogs. They are motivated and trained with food, not social bonding. Like canines, our swine get nervous when given evidence of the death of other swine. Most farm pigs don''t mind being around other dead pigs. They only get bothered if they are around other pigs that are indicating that they are in pain."

    "Ah, I see." Hiro nodded slowly.

    No, you don''t. You don''t understand swine unless you raise them, just like any other animal.

    I didn''t say it out loud. There was no need to antagonize him. He wouldn''t ever deal with our particular swine breed as anything other than a way to turn table scraps into meat, or an odd pet. I couldn''t remember anyone buying our swine to breed them. Breeders wanted farm pigs.

    Hiro walked beside me to the medical building, and Doctor Sven checked my wound for signs of infection. He indicated that everything seemed to be healing well, with no significant infection, before applying more iodine, a new dressing, and a fresh bandage. We did not discuss Albert at all. I wasn''t happy with the doctor''s lack of clarity on the topic, and I suspected he didn''t want to think about me as a ''weapon'' to be used by Albert against humanity.

    Oddly, Doctor Sven did seem quite cheered up when he checked my pupil dilation and had me recite the alphabet backward. He advised me to be certain to drink plenty of water if my body was processing opium so quickly.

    When I returned to my carriage, I found a spare pencil and asked Hiro to sharpen it with his knife. I had no idea where my knife was. I had spare blades in the carriage, but no handle.

    My right shoulder was not very painful, and I had a lot of writing to do. Breaking doctor''s orders was something I generally would avoid, but I was tired of left-handed chicken-scratch handwriting. I carefully eased my right arm out of its sling to allow myself to write quickly and legibly.

    I spent the next hour or so writing down all the different things I could think of that Albert might be trying to test.

    Eventually, there was a knock on the door, followed by a female voice. "Captain Marko wants to see you, oh, dangerous one." The carriage bounced a little towards the door as Fobi hopped up onto the step and looked in the window.

    I regretted tying the curtains back for light as I stared at Fobi''s face through the window. She hadn''t done anything to deserve my anger, so I tried to avoid sounding too angry as I repeated her words back at her. "Dangerous one?" I managed to bite back a comment about kicking people when they were down.

    "Ooh, that struck a nerve. Sorry." She smirked back at me, clearly not very sorry. "Other than being almost a half-meter taller than me, half my age, and male, you remind me of myself." Her face grew serious. "Captain Marko isn''t in a good mood."

    "That makes two of us," I muttered, looking back down at the paper again.

    She tapped on the glass, and I looked up at her more serious expression. "Maybe, but it matters more when the captain isn''t in a good mood because he can make everyone''s life miserable. Hurry up. No joke."

    "One moment, let me make some notes." I scribbled a quick summation of what my most recent thoughts had been before I set aside the lap desk and pencil. Then I very carefully put my right arm back in the sling, and tucked the folded papers I''d written into the sling, under my arm.

    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.A few seconds later, I stepped out of the carriage and followed Fobi toward the officer''s tent. As we approached, I noticed that the guards were several meters away from the tent, instead of next to the entrance.

    The officers expect to say things that they don''t want to be heard.

    When we received permission to enter, there were only two people inside. Riko and Captain Marko. I had never been in the tent without at least one of the lieutenants present taking notes for the captain. My eyes wandered around the tent, looking for other people, and found nobody else.

    "Thank you, Fobi. Please step outside, as we discussed earlier."

    I did not miss Fobi''s displeasure at the command. She left the tent rapidly after a terse "Yes, sir."

    Riko stared at Fobi as she left, and then looked at Captain Marko. He picked up a pencil and put a fresh sheet of paper in front of him.

    I said nothing. I was fairly certain I wasn''t going to like what came next.

    "Sit, Allen. I''d rather not have Doctor Sven irritated with me if you fall over and injure yourself."

    "I''d prefer to be standing for bad news, sir. I didn''t miss the fact that you''re keeping the guards away from the tent. I can''t think of any good reason you would have Riko taking notes for you as opposed to one of your lieutenants."

    Riko''s mouth twitched. I was nearly certain it was a suppressed smile.

    The captain looked at me for several seconds. I got a slight sense of disappointment from his expression. "You are stable on your feet already? Doctor Sven said you would probably still be having difficulty standing due to blood loss and the opium dose."

    "I am stable on my feet, and in my mind, sir." I smiled a little at him. I couldn''t resist.

    You wanted me to be weak of body and mind for this conversation? Tough.

    Doctor Sven''s happiness about my mental condition makes a lot more sense now.

    The captain frowned a little, then pressed on. "I received a note from Stateman Urda about thirty minutes ago by prism tower. Albert denies having spoken to you."

    What?

    I took a step backward, nearly falling despite my claims of stability.

    I managed to meet the Captain''s glare. "I... see. I''m going to have to re-think everything. Albert may well be insane if he doesn''t admit-"

    The captain interrupted me. "That''s not what I see. What I see is a young man with a strong track record of imagining useful things for this militia to use to protect his home and family." He paused. "That young man, you, had a powerful, dangerous idea that scared him. Apparently, your imagination supplied you with a falsely remembered conversation with Albert, which you then used to justify not providing your new idea to us."

    He tapped the table in front of him with his right index finger. "I want you to write down the idea that scares you so much, right now. I will then judge how dangerous it is. Sergeant Gonzalez will give you a pencil and paper. If it is truly dangerous, I will burn it here, in the tent, before you leave. If you prefer, I will ask Sergeant Gonzalez to leave, so there is no chance he can see what you write."

    Riko pushed a blank sheet of paper and a pencil to a section of the table close to me, his face was expressionless. Captain Marko was staring at me, expectantly.

    I shook my head. "It doesn''t matter, sir. I''m going to my grave with what Albert told me not to mention, whether that''s next week or ninety years from now. Even if I imagined Albert talking with me about it." I locked eyes with him. "No matter what you do."

    The captain slammed both of his hands on the table, flat-palmed, an immense slapping sound like thunder from a close lightning strike. His face was reddening, and his eyes narrowed as he leaned slightly over the table, almost hissing at me. "You insist on continuing this farce?"

    Riko was still looking at me, expressionless.

    I looked away from the captain''s glare. I couldn''t stare him down, even though I knew I wasn''t in the wrong. I looked at Riko, at the lack of expression.

    Something is wrong. Riko should be reacting.

    I shook my head and continued thinking, ignoring the captain''s angry diatribe.

    I did not imagine the meeting with Albert. That would require a level of dementia I''m certain I don''t have. Or Albert would have had to program me to have memories of Albert talking to me, which is wasteful and wrong on so many levels that I''m not even thinking about it.

    Not only that, I was too clear-headed this morning after a sedative-level opium dose the night before. If it had been a pain-reducing dose, maybe my metabolism might have dealt with it cleanly overnight. But a sedative dose? No, that tells me the meeting with Albert was real.

    "Are you even listening to me, Allen?"

    I couldn''t ignore him any longer, or he''d certainly escalate, somehow.

    "I''m a bit confused as to why Albert is lying, sir. Please give me a moment."

    "No, I need you listening to me now." He stood and reached a hand forward, rapidly across the table towards me.

    Riko interposed his hand between the two of us without standing. "I don''t think that''s a very good idea, sir, unless you want to risk him striking out."

    The captain looked at Riko with a sideways glance, and then back at me. "Ten seconds."

    I nodded and closed my eyes. My mind raced. Only two things made sense to me. The test Albert was running had become far more complex than I expected, or someone was lying, and Riko seemed to be the key.

    It''s almost certainly either Stateman Urda or Captain Marko lying. If it''s the captain, then that would explain Riko''s lack of expression. Riko is good at hiding his expressions, but not when he''s really angry. He would be furious if he thought I''d lied about something like this. If Stateman Urda is lying, Riko wouldn''t know, and he would be far more likely to be displaying anger.

    I carefully avoided looking at either the captain or Riko as I pulled my folded sheet of ideas out of the sling. I gripped it by one corner with the thumb and index finger of my left hand and held it in the air next to my chest, flipping it like a signal flag on a stick.

    "I am convinced that this entire scenario is a test of some sort." I looked down at the paper and twitched it again. "This, Captain Marko, is a list of what I think Albert might be trying to test. Even if Albert is lying to Stateman Urda about my conversation with him, I am confident that most of the ideas I''ve written down are sound. A lot of them are contradictory, but everything is guesswork until we know more. Older, wiser heads than me might have already thought of all these things, but I''m not sure."

    I flipped the paper back and forth again. "If you truly believe that I am insane enough to lie about the conversation I had with Albert, I''ll be glad to burn this paper. After the emotional turmoil of the last day, I would be more than happy never to talk to anyone about any of this, ever again."

    I''m done bending, and I''m not breaking, Captain Marko. I thought in his direction, knowing that he could probably read my belligerence, but glad he couldn''t read my thoughts.

    Captain Marko said nothing. His cheek twitched, and his face got a little redder.

    I knew I was possibly pushing too hard, but I was done with the word games. "Captain Marko, please stop asking me to end human civilization in order to keep a few people from starving. I''m nearly to the point where I''m going to lie and say I remember absolutely nothing about the discussion I had with Albert, and pretend I never had any ideas that got his attention."

    I leaned forward slightly and spoke in a slightly louder voice, squaring my shoulders slightly. Despite a little pain in my right shoulder, I hoped that intentionally looming might help make my point be taken more seriously. "Which I now realize is what I should have done from the very beginning. Perhaps I failed Albert''s first test." I stopped looming, standing straight so my height would be less threatening.

    The captain looked startled for a moment, before grating out a response. "Don''t try posture dominance games with me, Allen, or I''ll make you sit on the ground. Do you have any idea how incredibly ridiculous it is that Albert might have given a fifteen-year-old the ability to destroy human civilization?"

    Well, scratch the looming idea.

    I glared down at him, trying to keep my anger repressed. "You are letting your understandable frustration with the situation cloud your judgment, sir. Albert gave me nothing. I came up with the idea, myself. If Albert hadn''t interfered, I probably would have handed the idea to you and the lieutenants before giving the repercussions any significant thought. I''m still not sure which would have been worse. My idea, or Albert''s reaction to the idea if I give it to you." I paused. "It seems fairly clear to me which result is worse in Albert''s eyes. I''m not sure I agree with him, considering his history."

    The captain broke eye contact with me and pushed back his chair to stand. He started pacing back and forth. "Allen, if you had an idea that dangerous, we need it. The New Tokyo militia apparently had several prisoners like Brad, and they got two of them to cooperate with their militia. They are far ahead of us if even a small part of what our prisoner tells us is true."

    He closed his eyes for several seconds before continuing. "Brad is demanding freedom for his cooperation, and I''m not letting a murderer loose in camp. Even if I was willing to do so, there''s zero doubt in my mind that he would disappear into the forest within a couple days. I have no idea how the New Tokyo militia is keeping their incorrigibles under control."

    Riko nodded at that, slightly.

    "Are you saying you haven''t thought abou-"

    I shut my mouth mid-word.

    I can''t say that. Being able to use Brad would definitely be helping to inflict violence on others.

    I stared at Captain Marko, furious. He had considered using drugs on me for interrogation. Doctor Sven and Quartermaster Brown had blocked him from doing so. Despite that, he had apparently not considered getting Brad addicted to drugs through his food, and then using the addiction to gain his cooperation? I didn''t know if Doctor Sven would have agreed to drug Brad. But I''d have been willing to bet a few fisc that Quartermaster Brown would have, allowing the other officers to overrule the doctor.

    The captain stared back at me, looking up slightly as we stared at one another across the table. "Haven''t thought about what?"

    "Sir, I am not ending civilization, even at the cost of a lost war. If we''re so overmatched, then we would be better off-"

    As I cut myself off a second time, the captain''s expression went from annoyed to angry again.

    Creating many fake food caches isn''t a way to inflict violence on others.

    "Sorry, sir. I had to think a moment to be sure the second idea had nothing to do with violence. If you haven''t already thought about it, having people create as many fake food caches as possible might make it difficult for invaders to find and steal food."

    Riko started writing for the first time, nodding.

    I finally realized what had been bothering me about the entire conversation, and decided to end the farce. "I know what happened to me, sir. I''m not mentally impaired. I don''t know who it is that''s lying above me, whether it''s you, Stateman Urda, or Albert, but someone is."

    The captain took a deep breath and started getting ready to say something loud.

    I broke in, cutting him off before he could start. "If I was lying about something this important, why am I not under arrest?"

    Captain Marko visibly deflated, and turned his back to me.

    Riko chuckled, getting him a brief, fierce glance from Captain Marko. "I told you this wasn''t going to work, sir. I''ve known Allen since he was knee-high to me. He''s always been smart. After my conversation with him last night, and after Doctor Sven explained to us later that Allen had partially shut him down in a discussion, it was pretty clear that mental stress was making Allen think more clearly, not less."

    Looking at me soberly, Riko continued in a droll voice. "I''m certain that if we watch closely enough, there''s still a bone-headed teenager in there." He shifted his gaze from me back to the captain. "I don''t think you''re going to get what you want from him. Not without taking actions that I don''t think you could find anyone to support."

    The captain grunted once, angrily. More of a harrumph then a grunt, followed by one rapid step towards the back of the tent. He started to extend his arm but stopped suddenly, allowing his arm to fall to his side again as he shook his head. I saw the whiskey bottle near where his extended hand had been, looking far less full than I remembered it from last night. The captain looked back over his shoulder at Riko. "How can I trust his judgment?"

    My anger escaped before I could rein it in. "First you abuse your position of authority and lie to me, and now you start talking about trust?"

    Captain Marko snapped his entire torso to the side far enough that his head could turn to face me directly, and he started speaking rapidly, and heatedly. "Allen, always telling the truth is not part of my job description. There is a difference between using and abusing authority in emergency situations. Only I and my superiors get to decide what that is, and if my actions were appropriate for the circumstances. Not you."

    I opened my mouth, saw that the captain was clearly waiting for me to say something, and shut my mouth before I said something stupid.

    Riko was clearly enjoying himself as he watched the two of us. When I shut my mouth, he smiled. "See, sir, I told you he was thinking more clearly."

    I glared at Riko, who just smiled back at me. It was a big smile. Something I rarely ever saw on Riko''s face.

    I''m going to talk to you later about this.

    Riko turned his head slightly and winked the eye that Captain Marko couldn''t see.

    I have a very hard time believing Captain Marko didn''t see what I saw. I hope you know what you''re doing.

    The captain joined me in glaring at Riko for a second before starting to pace three steps back and forth. "Again, how can I trust his judgment? We can''t trust Albert fully any longer, especially not when it comes to military knowledge. How much can we trust Albert filtered through the life experiences of a fifteen-year-old with a hot temper?"

    I flipped the paper back and forth at chest height with my left hand again, drawing the captain''s eye. "If you''re done trying to play games with my head, do you want this?"

    With an irritated look, Captain Marko stopped pacing and extended his hand over the table. "Give me that."

    I thought about asking him to say please but decided that being juvenile was probably a bad idea. With a quick motion of my arm, I put the folded sheet in his hand without saying a word.

    "Riko, please call the officers, sergeants, and Fobi back in."

    "Yes, sir." Riko stood without delay, quickly leaving the tent.

    The captain turned to face me directly. "Allen."

    "Yes, sir?" I answered, trying not to sound too pleased with myself.

    Shaking his head, Captain Marko sat in his chair and started unfolding the sheet of paper I''d given him. "Get out of my tent. Now. If I have questions about this, I''ll send for you."

    As I turned to leave, I heard him muttering "If you stay here, I''ll start drinking again."

 Chapter 27

    Two hours later, someone knocked on my carriage door. It didn''t surprise me when I looked up and saw Hiro''s face in the window to the right of the door.

    "Allen, Lieutenant Davis just sent a note."

    I set the pencil and lap desk aside. "Good. There''s way too much that needs doing for me to be puttering around trying to keep myself busy."

    "Definitely something to do," Hiro commented.

    Great, now my guards are reading notes sent to me by the officers?

    I bit back a bitter comment and carefully put my right arm back in its sling. I''d been sketching out where different buildings might be for our farm, after the war, if we were allowed to homestead the property here. Most of my ideas seemed like common sense to me, and I couldn''t imagine Marza wanting any of the buildings in different places. I also knew it could quickly become a problem if I assumed she would agree with me.

    I tucked the half-finished map under the lap desk so it wouldn''t blow away after I opened the carriage door and smiled to myself.

    Story books mostly seemed to agree that spouses who knew each other from childhood would always agree. Marza and I already knew better than that. Not that we disagreed a lot. We knew we would usually agree, but we also knew better than to assume agreement. Some of our more spectacular squabbles had been due to me making plans and not consulting Marza. She''d done the same thing a couple times herself.

    My current situation with the militia had been bouncing around in my head as well. I''d had a bunch of ideas. A lot of them simply wouldn''t be a good idea to mention, but there were a few that had nothing to do with fighting. Like renting ships from the far northern climates before they were frozen in for the winter, or other ways to temporarily expand the fishing industry. We had time to build simple boats, even rafts if need be.

    Hopefully, this is an answer to my request to speak with the planning group.

    Perhaps even trying to trade with the prison colonies for food. The prison colonies had farms, and they didn''t have to deal with locusts. Albert would probably lie about how much food the prison islands had. He wouldn''t want us to trade with them, and they would probably ask a heavy price for food, but it would be worth considering as an option. I wasn''t sure what their growing conditions were either. They might be able to plant a new crop and be nearly certain it would make it to harvest. Lots of potential there.

    "What does the note say, Hiro?" I looked at him through the glass as I reached for the door.

    "I don''t know. It''s addressed to you, not me."

    "Then how do you know it''s something to do?"

    Hiro lifted a folded piece of paper and pressed it against the glass. "It says ''Orders for Allen Rickson, per Lt. Davis'' on the front?"

    "I see." I smiled briefly and chuckled as I nodded at Hiro.

    Sorry to doubt you, Hiro, I said, internally.

    With a slight bounce of the carriage, Hiro stepped down from the first step, leaving only the top of his head visible.

    I stepped outside, and Hiro handed me the note. I fumbled with my one good hand, eventually unfolding it, read it, and stared at it blankly for several seconds before showing it to Hiro.

    Hiro gave me an odd look before he read the note, then smiled. "Heh. Well, it''s something to do, right?"

    **

    "Why do they call this ''poison oak'' Allen?" Anu asked. The other city recruits nearby perked up, looking interested in the answer.

    "I don''t know. I suppose the leaf looks a little like some oak leaves." I shrugged. "Just remember each leaf is actually three leaflets with a common stem. Leaves of three, let it be." I pointed at the poison oak I was using as a teaching tool. "The leaves aren''t always the same, but they will always have several rounded lobes around the edge of each leaflet. The top of the leaflets will be shiny and waxy smooth, and the bottom will be dull, with some fuzz visible if you look close. The stems will be a little fuzzy too. Only check for fuzz if you''ve already touched the plant. The active chemicals are present in every part of the plant."

    Anu nodded, as did several others in the group of twenty or so city recruits that were following me around for the "Woodlands Training" class that I''d been assigned to teach. A man that I didn''t know spoke from the back of the group. "How big does it get?"

    "Good question. Usually less than a meter, but it can climb if it''s got something to grow against." I paused. "Any other questions before I show you how to tell real oaks apart?"

    Hiro spoke from nearby. "Why does it matter? An oak is an oak? They all have acorns." He paused. "Well except poison oaks, which aren''t oaks, like you just said."

    "Tannin content mostly. If you have the choice between what types of oak acorns you harvest, you want to choose the types with the least tannin."

    They were all staring at me blankly. "Tannin makes acorns bitter. You soak them in water to get most of the tannin out. I''m pretty sure it''s called tannin because it''s used in the leather tanning process."

    Another comment, from the same unknown person as before, judging by the voice. "Wait. People can eat acorns?"

    There was a muttering of affirmation from quite a few others who also seemed surprised that acorns were edible.

    I did my best not to laugh, but my best wasn''t enough, and I chuckled for a few seconds. I was getting irritated looks from a few people, Hiro being one of them. Anu, fortunately, seemed not to be taking offense.

    "I apologize for laughing. It''s so deeply ingrained in me that it startled me you would ask. Acorns are one of the best and most easily found forages, one of the first things I learned about as I was growing up. I knew the difference between different oaks before I started school." I smiled at the group. "We grew up in different worlds, almost. I''m fairly sure that you would have all laughed at me if you had seen me in the bathhouse the other day. Before the militia paid for it, I''d always bathed in a pond, or with a sponge on the farm, depending on the season. It was pretty amazing being able to put my whole body in hot water all at once. I certainly plan to try it again at least a couple more times in my life."

    There was dead silence for a second before someone started laughing. Then they all started laughing. Loudly. Anu and Hiro both joined in.

    "Ah, it''s not that funny, is it?" I tried not to look irritated at how enthusiastic they were.

    They laughed harder.

    Whatever.

    "Well, I guess it is that funny. This way, I''m going to show you white oak first, they have the least tannin. If you have a choice, you want these first, every time."

    I walked off, trying not to look upset.

    It''s really not that funny.

    I realized, suddenly, that I was still carrying some swine treats in my pocket from the morning. Pulling a couple out, I started breaking them into pieces, carefully choosing my words. "I have some acorn meal biscuits on me right now."

    Anu gave me a sharp look as she saw what was in my hands, but said nothing.

    I looked at her and popped a fragment of one of the swine treats in my mouth to reassure her before she said something. "These aren''t sweetened or salted, but they are low tannin." I carefully started eating the piece of brick-hard swine treat, allowing it to soak in my mouth, lightly rubbing it with my teeth as the biscuit became soft. "Don''t bite down too hard, eat them like hardtack bread."

    I passed out little pieces of the swine treats to everyone. About half of my students watched others gumming their pieces for a few seconds before they put their swine treat pieces in their mouth.

    Anu stared at me as she popped her swine treat piece in her mouth, her expression shifting from suspicious to contemplative as she carefully gummed the brick-like biscuit fragment. "Not bad. Not good, but maybe better than sawdust bread."

    There were several agreements from others and noncommittal grunts from everyone else.

    A tall, thin dark-haired woman who had been one of the first to try her treat piece piped up with a question "Why don''t you put a sweetener in them? I''ve had worse, and the nutty taste is interesting, but a little honey or molasses would be very good with this, I think."

    I did my best not to smile. "Two reasons. We make the biscuits so they can keep for a very long time, and our swine like them just as they are."

    Within a second, everyone stopped chewing and stared at me, motionless, except Anu, who slapped her thigh with her right hand, loudly. "I thought I knew what these were. You did say swine could eat anything we could."

    "Swine can eat practically anything organic, true, but acorn meal bread is something we do eat on the farm." I nodded to the dark-haired woman who had spoken earlier. "When we use acorns for cooking, for people, we usually do use sweeteners, but not always. Acorn meal makes an excellent thickener for stews."

    Smiling, I popped another piece of swine treat in my mouth and watched as my students resumed chewing carefully. I was somewhat disappointed that none of them spit out their fragments.

    "It is better tasting than the bread this morning, but there''s not much that tastes worse than boar taint," Hiro commented.

    I froze and glared at Hiro, who was watching me.

    Was that a statement of fact, or an attempt to goad me?

    Neither of us blinked as we stared at each other, until I forced myself to look away for a moment. When I felt the pain in my right shoulder, I shook my head and relaxed my fist.

    I looked back at Hiro, who had not stopped watching me. "Knowing forest plants so we can find edible food and avoid poisonous plants is all well and good, Allen, but what I''d like to hear is any advice you have to offer us about avoiding other people in the woods."

    What are you doing? Why are you bringing this up, Hiro?

    It was apparent that Hiro had intentionally tried to provoke me by mentioning the boar taint in the morning bread, which came from my dead boars. Even though I knew my expression was very clear because the rest of the students had backed away from me slightly, Hiro did not seem apologetic.

    "Something else I''d like to understand is how you do that." Hiro pointed at me.

    "Do... What?" I asked, confused.

    "You didn''t see everyone else just step back from you? You didn''t intend to intimidate us? I watched you sparring with the spear training cadre a few days ago and saw the same thing. Even the lieutenants are hesitant when they are just sparring with you, even though they normally win. You seem to have a way to appear suddenly more dangerous, and I''d love to know if there''s a way to copy it."

    "I..." Looking around, I could see several other people looking back and forth from Hiro to me, thoughtfully. Some of them were nodding, agreeing with Hiro.

    Hiro pressed me. "There are a lot of people in the militia that can find food, Allen. And it certainly would be handy to know how to avoid starving in the woods, but I''d rather learn something that will keep arrows and spears out of me. Especially now that New Tokyo has initiated violence." He tapped me lightly on the chest with his staff. "And you survived an eight-to-one encounter."

    I stiffened, pushing the end of his staff away from my chest with my left hand. "I can''t teach how to be me. I''m not entirely certain I would if I could." I took a deep breath. "When I''m angry, it shows. That''s not very helpful when people don''t know me. It''s occasionally a problem around people who do know me."

    "You aren''t doing it intentionally?" Hiro set his staff against his shoulder.

    Something clicked. "So, you mentioned my boars, knowing it would make me angry, to watch me and see if you could figure out what I was doing to intimidate people?"

    "Yes."

    Well, that answers that.

    I glared at him for a second. "No, I don''t do it intentionally. I''m just quick to anger, and don''t hide it well. Always have been that way. Please don''t try to make me angry on purpose. I have enough to be angry about without you helping."

    Several of my students had made small noises of dissatisfaction before Hiro spoke a couple seconds later. "Fine. Can you tell us how you survived the attackers in the woods?"

    "Hiro, you''re right that there are a lot of people who can forage. However, many of them are already scouts. A lot more of us are going to be spending more time in the woods trying to intercept New Tokyo foraging parties like the one that almost got me."

    "Is that a no?" Hiro''s voice was flat, disappointed, even a little angry.

    "No. It''s not. I can teach you a couple basic things that might help you know when something is wrong in the woods. It won''t make you a scout, but it might keep you alive."

    Suddenly, I had everyone''s attention. "I''m also going to keep teaching you about foraging. If everything goes bad, you''ll need it."

    There were several seconds of silence before I started walking towards some nearby white oaks. "Blue jays scolding the New Tokyo scouts alerted me to their presence."

    I paused and shook my head. "The first thing to remember is that if animals hear something unexpected, they will react. Normally their reaction is to go completely still and then turn to face the disturbance unless it''s very close in which case they will run immediately." I pointed at an obnoxious grey squirrel chattering at us as we approached the oak grove. "See the grey squirrel there, being loud? It''s looking directly at us. If someone else were to walk behind it, the squirrel would likely stop chattering at us and turn to face them, at least briefly. Non-predator birds will normally face a disturbance before deciding what to do."

    Anu laughed loudly, suddenly. "That sounds like what we do."

    "Don''t move," I ordered as I stopped walking, and everyone stopped. "Before you move again, notice what you are looking at."

    Almost everyone was staring straight at Anu.

    I don''t think that could have been set up better if we''d planned it.

    "OK, you can move again. Anu is right. She made an unexpected loud noise, and almost every one of us looked at her. That''s exactly what wild animals will do, but they have better senses than we do. You might not see, smell, or hear what they did. But they act the way they do for a reason."

    After a moment''s thought, I continued. "I can''t help you be quiet in the woods because I''m not good at that, other than the obvious stuff like not walking on loose leaves. But if a wild animal suddenly looks in any direction but at you, or flees and doesn''t run almost directly away from you, there''s a good chance that there''s a predator or human nearby. Pay special attention to blue jays and squirrels. They are willing to stay near humans, and even follow people for a short distance, scolding."

    "What does a blue jay sound like?" Another person I didn''t know.

    I chuckled and shook my head a little. "Sorry to laugh again. More of that stuff that I''ve known pretty much since I was able to form complete sentences. I''m sure we''ll run across some blue jays as I show you different types of forages. If we don''t, I''ll try to imitate a blue jay alarm call, but I''m not very good at it."

    Two hours later, my class of twenty might not starve in the woods, and if they were lucky, they might get warning of danger in the woods.

    Anu and I chatted a little on the way back to camp, and I constantly noticed Hiro watching me. It was starting to become annoying, but that was his job, to watch me. For some reason. I could understand it to a degree, but that didn''t make it bother me less.

    After lunch, I was going to take another group of twenty out with Hiro. After that, another group. For the next four days, my schedule would be breakfast, two groups, lunch, two more groups, and then dinner. My swine would eat when I did.

    Until my arm healed, it was going to be my job to teach, like I had done when my leg was wounded. Other people would make sure they were learning and send them back to me if they didn''t learn properly, so I could probably count on being a teacher for four days.

    Anu bumped me carefully about halfway up my upper left arm with her shoulder. "What''s got you worried, Allen? Anything you want to talk about?"

    I shrugged. "Thanks for the offer, Anu. Plenty I''d like to be able to talk about, but nothing I can talk about unless the officers call me in to speak with them."

    And even then, some things I can''t talk about.

    Why didn''t you just tell me to keep silent about everything, Albert?

    Turning her head just enough to see me without blinding herself to what was in front of her as she walked, Anu watched me for a few seconds. "You''ve got friends, Allen."

    I clenched my jaw to keep from saying anything before I thought about it. "I''ve also got Hiro and Kevin, who have to stay by me. I''d feel truly strange trying to have a conversation between friends when my watchers have to stay close to me, and probably remain close enough to hear anything I say."

    There was a stir from the group as we walked, and several people looked at Hiro.

    Hiro spoke in his own defense. "Not my idea, Allen. That doesn''t make it any less of an order."

    "No insult intended, Hiro. It''s just the way it is. I suspect I''m more bothered by the situation than you are."

    "I have no doubt that''s true." Hiro laughed quietly after speaking, but sounded a little nervous.

    Anu looked forward. "So, what was it like, talking to Albert?"

    The forest was suddenly silent, except for the sounds of twenty-two people walking through leaf litter.

    I wonder how many times people are going to ask me that.

    It didn''t take me long to think of an answer. "If you have any childhood memories of adults humoring you when you thought you knew what you were talking about, it was like that. He asked questions and drew me out when I thought I was right, and then showed me how I was wrong. Multiple times. There were a couple things that we didn''t agree on that he didn''t change my mind about, but I don''t think he cared about those things. It felt like I was four again."

    "Ow," Anu whispered as she shook her head.

    I don''t care how brilliant you are, Albert. You are directly responsible for every early death on Nirvana. Humans might have even become deathless by this time without your interference. I''m not going to be your scapegoat.

    Suddenly, I realized what I''d been thinking.

    Am I starting to follow Doctor Sven''s line of reasoning? Has something happened that should have changed my mind?

    For the rest of the walk into camp, I barely paid attention to the world around me. I tried to figure out if I had any reason to think Albert intended to use me as an excuse to take action. I didn''t, nothing that held up to logic. My prior arguments against Doctor Sven''s beliefs on Albert''s motivations continued to seem sound, assuming Albert was sane. I wasn''t ready to believe Albert was insane, despite my anger earlier.

    Nobody spoke to me the rest of the way into camp. I imagine my expression wasn''t congenial.

    I had been happy to be useful when I had an injured leg and was teaching people to use tools safely and effectively. Now I had a wounded arm and was being just as useful, in a way, but teaching people felt empty.

    It seemed as if I had an obligation to do more, now that I knew more. The limits that Albert had set upon me, and that I had set for myself seemed to weigh heavily.

    Before Anu left the group at the camp, I touched her arm. "Thank you for the offer to talk. I''m sure I''ll take you up on it soon, even if my minders have to stay in attendance."

    Anu smiled a little. "Some people need to talk through their problems. Some people need to think through their problems. Do what you need to do."

    **

    Two days later, what I needed to do was figure out what the officers were thinking. Every night, I wrote down carefully considered ideas about how we might hide our resources after making sure they were not potentially usable for offensive actions. Some of the ideas I knew were good, but I received no invitation to help plan.

    For instance, I knew from sustainable ecology classes that gill nets were disruptive and unsustainable on a large scale. I also knew that a single year of gill net use would not cause a long-term problem for fish populations, provided that major waterways were left partially unblocked. We needed to make gill nets legal for use this year, and we needed to convince every other state to do the same. It would take time to make nets, deploy them, and properly scale up fish processing capabilities, but it could be done in time to help.

    Fish typically wasn''t a big part of our diet in the temperate climate ranges, but we did have a small, established fishing industry. We couldn''t quickly build and establish fish farms like colder regions had in place, but we didn''t need to. Not for a single season.

    The gill net idea was the only idea that generated a response that I saw. My note was returned. At the bottom was written ''very good idea. Forwarded to Stateman Urda. - Lt. Baker.''

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    If it was a very good idea, why am I not allowed to join planning sessions?

    Even Riko was apparently avoiding me. Granted, I only saw him twice, and both times, he was walking rapidly with a purpose, but it was still annoying.

    The camp kitchens had finished using the boars in meals. The human-edible parts of two boars split six hundred ways lasted three meals, one day, and there wasn''t a lot of meat in the beans and rice for the lunch and dinner meals.

    Despite that, I could still smell the boar taint faintly in the air, and taste it in everything I ate. My swine, if anything, were more skittish than ever. If I could taste boar taint in what I was eating, they could certainly taste it in the kitchen waste pile. They were eating from the kitchen garbage though, so the taint itself apparently didn''t have special meaning to them as long as it wasn''t accompanied by the taste of their fellow swine. Just another organic chemical.

    The nervousness of the swine was because their sense of smell was good enough to tell that the boars had been eaten by us. It would be a week to ten days before my sounder would stop being able to smell the scent of digested pork. In my next letter home, I had made sure to note for Granpa and Zeke what I''d discovered about the swine not having a serious problem with boar taint by itself in the kitchen garbage pit. They might already know, but I''d never heard it before. Not exactly useful information, but it was information that could be written down and passed on.

    I was hoping Zeke would be able to arrive soon to take my sounder back to the farm. My arm was still immobilized, but healing quickly. If I was fully recovered and able to join the newly forming scouting and forage parties before Zeke arrived, I wasn''t sure what would happen, but I was certain I wouldn''t like it. I made sure to mention that in the same letter where I discussed the boar taint in the kitchen garbage pit. I had to be positive that my family knew the situation I was in, just in case Zeke hadn''t already left.

    Before bed every night I had been writing and sending letters to Marza with plan drawings of different parts of the farm. It was empty planning because we still didn''t know yet if we''d be allowed to homestead there, but it was something interesting to discuss. We''d eventually have to plan to live somewhere. I carefully didn''t mention the chances that I might not be around to live on the farm, even if the land grant request was accepted. We both knew that, and I preferred to keep at least some part of my life as positive as possible.

    On the third day after I was attacked, I had not received any mail in two days, and Marza and my family had been writing every day before that. I had seen other people getting mail and heard them talking about their families at home. I nearly reached the point of marching into the officer''s tent and demanding my mail. If the officers were holding my outgoing as well as my incoming mail, then Zeke might not even be aware that I needed him to get the swine. If the officers casually caused me to lose my future livelihood by engineering the loss of my swine, they would find me to be a much more difficult person to work with.

    I didn''t want it to get that far though. I had written two copies of the same letter, addressed to Stateman Urda''s office. The letter expressed my irritation at being arrested, with no charges against me, and explaining about how the officers were interfering with my personal correspondence. I requested that she address the matter with the militia officers. I also wrote a very terse note to my family with my request to Zeke and an explanation of my current situation.

    The first copy of my letter to the Stateman''s office and the terse note to my family were both folded and addressed before I folded them into a third sheet of paper. The third sheet was a letter to Anu.

    It wasn''t hard to pass the note. I pulled it out of my sling and handed to Anu with my body between Hiro and our exchange when we spoke briefly about what we''d done that day at dinner the night before.

    "Anu, I wish I could talk more, but I''m not comfortable with talking out loud about anything other than the weather," I told her as I tapped the letter against her ribs twice. When she looked down at the paper, she could see where I had written in large, dark block letters. ''Say nothing. Read in private.''

    Fortunately, she said nothing, took the letter, and put it inside her shirt. The next morning she nodded to me with a thumbs-up, clearly indicating that she''d done what I''d asked in the note to her. I nodded back, and took out two training classes before lunch, just to make sure the daily post would be well on its way before I did anything else.

    After lunch, but before my third class of the day, I handed Hiro the second copy of the letter to Stateman Urda''s office. "Hiro, please give this to Lieutenant Davis. I''ll follow you to the officer''s tent."

    Hiro looked at the letter, then at me. "Am I going to see you lose your temper again when Lieutenant Davis flies out of the officer''s tent waving this in your face?"

    "If that''s his reaction, you might see my temper again, yes."

    Hiro''s smile in response surprised me. "Good."

    At that moment, I realized that even if Hiro had seen me pass the note to Anu, he might not have said anything. Like always, my expression gave me away.

    "What? Do you think I like the way they are treating you, Allen? I''ll do what I''m told if it''s not horribly repugnant, but that doesn''t mean I like it."

    "I didn''t think you did, but I didn''t get the impression you had a problem with it either. Thanks, Hiro."

    At the officer''s tent, Hiro handed the letter to one of the guards. "Give this to Lieutenant Davis, please."

    The guard nodded, stepped into the tent, and I heard muttering. A few seconds later, the guard came back out of the tent, declaring "Handed it to Lieutenant Davis."

    Lieutenant Davis did not come out of the tent. Nor did any loud noises.

    Hiro looked up at me, curiously.

    I looked down at him and shrugged. "Maybe they were expecting it."

    We both looked back at the tent. After a few seconds, the two tent guards made shooing motions at us but said nothing. They didn''t like people loitering near the officer''s tent. We left before they started to get agitated.

    I was feeling a bit confused, and Hiro was visibly disappointed when we walked away to find my first afternoon class to take into the woods.

    I had started asking everyone to bring a pack with them, so we could forage for real, and bring back useful calories and herbs. We weren''t going far enough out to find a lot in the already-gleaned area, but I could tell how well people were learning by what they put in their packs. The area was fairly heavy with sassafras, which the foragers had been mostly bypassing because it wasn''t a high-calorie food. It was, however, a powerful taste, and would be welcome in the kitchen, I hoped.

    Mrs. Zeta, with some cajoling, had agreed that I could get one small table in the back of the kitchen to sort through my students'' finds. I had to sort rapidly and was allowed to have only Hiro and one student in the building with me at a time. That would get forage into the kitchen''s hands faster, and make it easier for me to correct any students collecting wrong-type plants.

    I was sorting through the first student''s small collection of forage when I heard Mrs. Zeta speak behind me. "I smell sassafras. How much did you collect?"

    I turned away from the student''s forage. "I don''t know yet, Mrs. Zeta. Should I set it all aside in a separate pile?"

    "Definitely. You brought roots and leaves, I see?" She reached forward and picked up a root, cut it with a fingernail, and sniffed it.

    "Yes, ma''am. Roots for flavoring, I''m not so sure about the leaves. We usually dry them in unused crop storage space before we grind them up and use them as file thickener for soups. You have plenty of heat and ceiling height in this building. I figure you can dry them fairly quickly."

    Mrs. Zeta looked into the ceiling above us with a pensive look on her face. "I''ve always used aged leaf for gumbo file. It''s worth testing fresh-dried leaf." She sniffed again. "I''ll have us use the root immediately."

    Patting me on the left arm gently, Mrs. Zeta didn''t mention that it would be welcome for covering the taste of boar taint.

    I could appreciate that. I was fairly certain that, more than anyone else in camp, I wanted to stop tasting boar taint. That was a large part of why I''d had my students collecting the plant.

    As she turned and started walking towards where two of her staff were arguing quietly with one another, the head cook said one more thing. "Tell any of my people to let me know when you have sorted this group''s take. I''ll happily take all the sassafras root and leaves your students can find. Now that I know it''s nearby, I''ll pass the word to the other foragers that I want them to bring back a little when they find it. We need other forage more, but a little sassafras root goes a long way."

    My current group ended up with nearly a kilo of sassafras root and leaf, and about five total kilos of various edible mushrooms, berries, and acorns, with only a few inedible plants. I carefully inspected every mushroom, throwing away any that were missing identifying parts, explaining when I did so that in many cases I wasn''t sure if it was poisonous or not. With mushrooms, you had to know. Guessing could kill.

    The whole group of students collected less than I could have managed myself in two hours with two good hands, but we were working a picked-over area, and they were new. Overall, I was pleased.

    After all the student finds had been sorted, I called over one of the kitchen runners and told them to inform Mrs. Zeta that I was done sorting, and then Hiro and I left.

    "We need to go and see the officers now," Hiro informed me, as we stepped outside.

    "I have one more class today," I replied, looking at him.

    "No, you don''t." He handed me a note. "This came to me when you were sorting."

    Hiro, bring Allen to the officer''s tent when he has finished his current class. His last class is being redirected to firewood collection. ~ Sgt. Covil.

    After I had read the note, I looked towards the officer''s tent. "I see."

    After two days of wanting nothing more than to be a part of whatever was being planned, now I wasn''t sure I wanted to speak to the officers at all.

    Hiro interrupted my thoughts. "Second guessing yourself about that letter to the Stateman earlier?"

    "Is it that obvious?" I looked at him, and he smiled, briefly showing teeth.

    I sighed. Of course it was obvious.

    As I walked towards the officer''s tent, I spoke again, "I don''t regret the letter. It needed to be said. That doesn''t mean I''m going to enjoy this conversation."

    I wasn''t happy with Hiro as he followed behind me, laughing under his breath.

    "Schadenfreude is not a virtue."

    "No, but it''s still funny to watch someone stepping into a hole they dug for themselves."

    "Whatever, Hiro." I grumped at him as I started to walk faster towards the officer''s tent, intentionally forcing Hiro to jog a bit to keep up.

    A minute later, we were standing in front of the tent. Hiro had stopped laughing several steps before we arrived and he announced my presence. "Militiaman Rickson arriving as requested by Sergeant Covil." Under his breath, he said as an aside. "Good luck in there."

    I said nothing, but gave Hiro a nod in thanks.

    The guard that had taken the message in pushed his way past the tent flap. From inside the tent, Captain Marko''s voice was audible. "Allen, come in. Hiro, please go to Allen''s carriage. We''ll send an escort with him to meet back with you, or Kevin, whoever is on duty when we''re done here.

    They think this meeting might last three hours?

    I dry-swallowed and pushed into the tent.

    The first thing I noticed as I entered the tent was that there were more people than I had seen in the tent before. At least twelve people. It felt crowded.

    The second thing that I noticed was Zeke stepping forward from my right, and throwing his arms around me to give me an enthusiastic bear hug.

    "Ow. Ow. Stop, Zeke. My arm."

    "What? Oh, that''s right. They did say you had a cut on the shoulder." He let go of me, took a step back, and poked at the bandage, making me wince as I jerked my shoulder back to keep him from poking it too hard.

    "Bad enough for stitches, but it should heal fine if nobody pulls the stitches out. Hint. Hint." I gave him a careful left-armed hug back.

    "The doctor there said the muscle wasn''t injured severely, just a ragged skin wound. Stop whining." Zeke grinned briefly, then went serious. "Sorry I got a bit rough there. It''s good to see you looking healthy, even if you''ve been banged up a bit."

    "What are you here for, Zeke?" I asked. "You didn''t send me a letter saying you were coming."

    "Didn''t you ask for me to come and get your swine and carriage?" Zeke frowned and looked towards the back of the tent, over the table where the militia officers were all seated, at the little table that the captain kept there for his use. There were three people sitting there. "I didn''t send a letter because I was offered a ride when the Stateman delivered the letters to our farm and spoke to Ma on her way here. The handwriting was yours, Ma said. It sounded important enough that you didn''t need a letter in response if I could come quickly in person."

    I looked at the back of the room, then back at Zeke.

    Stateman, here?

    She talked to Ma?

    "I did." I shook my head briefly. "I do. Thank you for coming. Apparently, my mail has been handled differently than most." I stared at Captain Marko, and he met my glare with no expression, arms folded across his chest.

    I looked away from the captain, and towards the back of the room. If the Stateman was here, then the older, white-haired woman was certainly her. The young woman to her left was clearly too young to be a Stateman, and the man to her right, well, the Stateman was a female, and he was clearly male.

    Looking back at Zeke, I thanked him. "Anyway, Zeke, thanks for coming. I''ll be happy to have the swine out of harm''s way, and I''ll owe you a favor."

    "We''ll talk about favors later after we see how bad this winter is."

    "And if I survive."

    "That too."

    "You got the letter about Speedy?"

    Zeke nodded. "Yes. Very interesting." His head tilted towards the center of the tent. "But I doubt these fine people want to hear us talk about swine breeding."

    There was polite chuckling from several people in the tent. The white-haired woman confirmed herself to be Stateman Urda by speaking next. "Zeke, thank you. Please go to Allen''s carriage. There''s a man named Hiro there who can keep you company, but he won''t leave the carriage. I ask you not to leave the carriage area either, please. I''m sure you''ll want to inspect the harness and carriage for yourself anyway, since, based our conversation on the way here, you''ve never used it."

    Before Zeke started moving, I made sure to warn him "If you let them out, watch them closely, Zeke. I''m sure you''ve smelled it."

    "I did. Taint but no pork smell any longer. How bad were the sows?"

    "Not terrible. The kitchen worked with me. I''m fairly sure they didn''t encounter anything that tasted strongly of the boars in the kitchen refuse pit. They were mostly nervous and irritated without any overt anger or violence. Hotfoot and Speedy were the only ones that tried to run off, and they both returned after a couple whistle commands."

    Nodding, Zeke accepted the information as he felt at his chest, where I knew his whistle would be. He didn''t ask for mine, so I knew he had his. It would have shocked me if he hadn''t had his under his shirt.

    "I''ll be careful." He gave me a more careful hug this time. "Watch your mouth here, Allen. Think about everything you say, before you say it. Twice."

    Zeke stared at me with a no-nonsense look until I nodded back to him, saying "I will."

    With a look at the back of the room, where I saw Stateman Urda nodding, Zeke carefully walked out of the tent.

    As the tent flap closed behind Zeke, I felt more than a little confused.

    The Stateman cleared her throat. "I hope that we''ve demonstrated that we aren''t out to ruin your life, young man, which seemed to be something of a concern in your letter addressed to my office."

    I nodded. "The safety of my swine was my most pressing concern. They are a large part of my future." I shrugged. "If I have a future after this."

    With a brief nod, the Stateman continued. "You seemed a little hot under the collar about the way we were interfering with your mail, as well. All interference with your mail was at my direct orders. All of your mail passed through my hands directly, as well as all of your ideas that you told us. You''re quite the innovator."

    I looked at Captain Marko. "And the lies telling me that Albert repudiated my claim that he had spoken with me?"

    Captain Marko''s mouth twitched, and his eyes squinted, but he said nothing.

    "I didn''t specifically order that, but I would have if I had thought about it. I just told the officers to make you as angry as they could without pushing you to the point where you might strike out physically."

    "I-"

    I snapped my mouth shut and looked down while I closed my eyes and counted to ten. "What?"

    There was a loud sound of papers shuffling. I opened my eyes as I looked up at the Stateman and saw her putting on what were clearly reading glasses.

    "I was quite impressed with your list of tests that you thought Albert might be running. Let''s see. ''Will the militia or civil government resort to physical torture to extract information from an individual that follows all other orders except orders to reveal dangerous information?''"

    She looked up at me. "A very valid question, and near and dear to your heart, considering the situation, I''m sure. I might have wondered the same thing." She tapped her chin with her index finger. "I''m not entirely sure I would have given the idea to the very people I thought might believe it to be a good idea if things started to go badly." She looked at me, clearly expecting me to comment.

    "I..." I thought about what I was going to say, again, framing the answer in my mind before saying the first word. "I felt that Albert''s obvious dissatisfaction with such an option would be best to bring to light before others seriously considered the idea. It seemed like a valid question, considering how Albert engineered the situation."

    The Stateman''s head tilted and she hummed. "Not bad." She flipped a paper and started reading again. "Let''s see, where was it. Ah, there it is. ''Will civil government or military leadership confine an individual in isolation, or outright kill someone to prevent them from revealing information that would lead to Albert reducing humanity to a true stone age?'' I liked that one."

    I felt a drop of sweat start to dribble down the center of my forehead and did my best to ignore it.

    With an audible rustle, she set aside the papers in her hand. "Again, a question that one might argue is very important to you. It was quite brave to give your officers and myself that idea. Granted, we certainly would have considered the idea. As distasteful as it might be, it has its merits, and it would be a very clean solution, even if it ended up with a few of us in prison." She leaned forward. "Which it would not, under militia law, though it would still count against Albert''s violence tally."

    I winced and looked at Riko, who shook his head and averted his eyes from me to the Stateman, clearly telling me to get my eyes back where they belonged.

    I looked back at the Stateman. I could read nothing from her face. Her expression reminded me of Ma or Pa working with Abe and Molly a couple years ago, teaching them from a reading primer. Relaxed, observant, and confident.

    When she saw she had my full attention again, she continued with no obvious sign of irritation. "The same reasoning behind this idea as the last, I''m sure. A combination of pre-emptive self-preservation and legitimate concern, correct?"

    "Yes." I nodded nervously. The drop of sweat on my forehead had company now.

    "There was one thing that I noticed you didn''t mention in your list of things that Albert might be testing for, that I''d like to ask you about if you don''t mind?"

    I stared at her for a second, and had absolutely no idea what she might be thinking. I hadn''t even noticed her blink though I''m sure she must have. Her small hands folded across each other, her elbows not on the table. She sat without any sign of a slouch, despite her apparent advancing age.

    I shook my head and carefully considered my next words. "I don''t mind.  Please, Stateman Urda, ask."

    She smiled, a small, brief smile that quickly disappeared like it had never happened. "I was very concerned that Albert might be testing to see how receptive our militia might be to a takeover by a charismatic young man. A young man with a history of violence, and a penchant for new ideas, who just happened to have knowledge that could threaten officers and government authority."

    What?

    Stateman Urda''s facial expression went from mild to hawkish in an instant. Her eyes bored into mine, and I felt cold.  "Have you, by chance, considered that possibility, Allen?"

 Chapter 28

    The events of the last couple days cascaded through my mind. My mail interfered with. The lie about Albert repudiating me. Being kept in the dark about practically everything.

    And it was all a test.

    I could feel my jaw and shoulders tensing, but the twinge of pain from my wound quickly made me realize I had to relax. At least physically.

    I carefully considered my options. I wanted it to be abundantly clear that I was angry, but I also needed to keep my words from being too disrespectful.

    "So. You... orchestrated this." My voice was rough with restraint, scratchy. I had to swallow after just those few words.

    Someone''s clothing whispered behind me as they shifted their weight, either Don or Riko.

    Lieutenant Davis''s eyes moved slightly, looking beyond me as he shook his head fractionally. From the angle of his gaze, he was looking at Don.

    Don, I''m not that big of a fool. I thought as I tilted and turned my head slightly to make sure Don knew I''d heard him moving. I caught the lieutenant''s eye and nodded fractionally as I turned my head back to the Stateman.

    The whole time, I never looked away from the Stateman by more than a few degrees. Breaking eye contact briefly to acknowledge Don and the lieutenant was enough for me to regain most of my composure.

    Stateman Urda spoke before I could express more displeasure, interrupting me as I opened my mouth. "Even though I trust my officers, I would be a fool not to verify what they tell me." She paused. "Even if their assessment of you had been fully accurate, it was based on your behavior prior to your encounter with Albert. I think the future of mankind is important enough that I was justified in poking and prodding you to see if you were going to need to be drugged and shipped to the male prison colony."

    My head jerked back as the last sentence registered. "I''m fifteen."

    Her eyes were unblinking for several seconds as we stared at each other. It was almost impossible for me to hold her gaze as she responded, but I did my best not to show weakness. You do not run from a predator, and you must control your fear.

    With a slight nod, she acknowledged me. "True. However, when the militia is activated in a time of potential interstate conflict, the acting Stateman has the right to send highly disruptive citizens of their own state to the prison colonies. Exile requires three-quarters of a State''s currently sitting Countymen to agree with the motion. There is no requirement for an exile to be a violence offender. Especially if they foment dissent, or are a self-declared risk to the state." She paused and pointed her right index finger in my direction by moving her wrist without lifting her arm. "You are already a self-declared risk to the state. To all humanity for that matter. Albert has verified this."

    With a slight turn of her head towards her desk, she spoke again. "And Albert designed it that way, no doubt intentionally, to further whatever goals he has."

    She raised the sheaf of papers again, waved them, and put them back down. "Despite your age and anger management issues, you are clearly intelligent enough to recognize that Albert is guiding us towards some sort of test that none of us can predict. In addition, your contributions of various ideas have been valuable, showing you to be innovative, even after you stopped helping with military tactics."

    She glanced at the desk in front of her. "To be frank, I am probably as confused by Albert''s actions as you are, I just have the age and experience to see more possibilities." Her voice grew slightly louder and sharper as she looked back to me. "With your past history, I almost chose to commit you to the prison colony as a precautionary measure. I had the votes to do so. The only reason you were not sent was because of these officers'' assessments of you. They advised me that if it was impressed upon you how important something was, you were a solid sort. Prone to anger. Impatient. Inexperienced. Overconfident. But dependable, honest, and serious."

    I shuddered, dry-swallowed, and forced myself to speak. I wasn''t any less angry, but I couldn''t see why she would lie about her ability to send me to the prison colony if I wasn''t being sent there. "Thank you, Stateman Urda."

    She nodded. "In any case, there was never any danger of your being imprisoned in total isolation or killed. Albert didn''t give me much information, but he did say that he wouldn''t exact the punishment on humanity if the prison colony residents were told what you know. He censors all correspondence they send and receive."

    When I registered the last two sentences, my thoughts came to a full stop.

    That doesn''t make sense.

    I considered what she had said a second time. It made even less sense the more I thought about it. I stared at the Stateman as my mind spun in circles, like one of Marza''s dogs chasing its own tail.

    Why didn''t she send me? It doesn''t add up. She''s not a relative. No emotional attachment.

    Albert basically told her she could safely get me out of the way without killing or fully isolating me, and she didn''t take that choice. The world against me, and she chose me?

    I jumped a little, startled, as a braying laughter started. "Captain Marko, I stand corrected." Stateman Urda choked out after she stopped her brief uncontrolled laughter. "I do not believe I''ve ever met anyone who telegraphs exactly what they are thinking quite so well as Allen here."

    I opened my mouth and shut it again. Think, Allen. That''s a dangerous question to ask.

    Stateman Urda still seemed vaguely predatory, but not cold. "You recognized that there was no reason for me not to ship you off. Right now you are trying to figure out why you are not drugged unconscious and on a one way trip to the male prison colony. The answer is elementary. I consulted Albert."

    "He told you what he was doing?" I blurted out without thinking.

    Her head dropped down a little and she looked at her desk, shaking her head briefly before looking back up at me with a vanishing smile. "No. But I was able to get an answer out of him when I asked him if sending you to the prison colony would alter the likelihood of him taking civilization from us. He advised that if you were sent to the prison colony, isolated, or killed, it would be somewhere between two and six times more likely that he would be forced to de-civilize Nirvana. He refused to comment on what his estimations for either possibility were. It might be the difference between fifty percent and one hundred percent, or some tiny fraction that humans can''t conceptualize."

    She shrugged. "If the differential possibility is subtle, Albert wouldn''t be expending this much effort for a low probability outcome. Make no mistake, he''s not idle right now, even if he''s purposefully being obtuse with us. He wouldn''t have dropped you on hot rocks and exposed himself to more extensive computational requirements without good reason. Not when so many other forces are in motion."

    I could only blink as I tried to process that. "I-"

    My mouth snapped shut. Dangerous topic.

    I had almost mentioned Albert saying that I wasn''t the only person who had the same idea I had. That had to be part of Albert''s calculations.

    The Stateman''s eyes glittered like black glass marbles as she stared at me, nodding slightly like she had learned something.

    Captain Marko spoke into the silence. "I''m very glad that you now have a fuller understanding of what I''ve been dealing with for the last couple days, Allen."

    When I looked at him, he was staring at me, with his elbows on the table in front of him. A barely visible smile was mostly hidden behind his two hands, with their fingers interlaced together in front of his face.

    His face and posture indicated that he didn''t think anything was funny, despite his smile. My eyes darted back and forth between him and Stateman Urda, who was watching me carefully.

    She didn''t interfere, so I responded to the captain. "I have no reason to apologize for any discomfort you might have experienced in the last couple days, sir," I said, carefully adding emphasis on the pronouns ''I'' and ''you''.

    Stateman Urda interrupted before Captain Marko could respond. "One statement. One response. You''re done now. As entertaining as it might be to watch you two verbally spar, I don''t want you intentionally irritating one another. This is my conversation. We''ll stay on my agenda."

    I looked away from Captain Marko and nodded. "Yes, Ma''am."

    Captain Marko echoed me with his own "Yes, Stateman Urda."

    The Stateman steepled her fingers in front of her and stared through me, concentrating. "Albert has told me nothing about his plans. He never does, other than reciting his long-term goals of reducing human aggressiveness that we''ve all heard thousands of times as we were educated. I do have a different vantage point, and I didn''t get to be a Stateman by being dull."

    After closing her eyes and breathing deeply in, and out, once, she continued. "You are an innovator, and intelligent, but physically aggressive. You are not, however, highly acquisitive or materialistic beyond protecting what you consider yours. Your physical aggression is at least partly due to a recent event which developmentally scarred you."

    Recent? It was nearly two years ago!

    Stiffening in anger, I responded a little heatedly. "I would do it the same way again, in the same situation, no matter how old I was." I stared at her. Visions of Marza struggling with Rikard interposed themselves in my thoughts. There was a pain in my shoulder.

    Calm.

    The room felt tense. A moment later, Stateman Urda spoke. "You really do need to learn to control yourself a little better, Allen."

    I snapped a rapid response. "Sorry, Ma''am. That''s nowhere near the top of my to-do list."

    Several people in the tent chuckled briefly. Even the Stateman laughed and leaned back in her chair. "You have a point. Body language control would be very low priority for me if I were in your situation, I suppose." She made a throwing away motion with her right fist and arm. "In any case, I have no doubt that you would act violently again if provoked with severe threats to loved ones. In your defense, that''s a behavior Albert isn''t going to be able to weed out of humanity as long as people develop strong emotional bonds with one another. On the other hand, you''ve expressed that trait a lot more aggressively than normal. It was vital for me to know if your aggression might break into a different channel of expression if we stressed you."

    My mind flashed back to several suggestive comments by my guards over the last couple days. "Hiro and Kevin were baiting me to see if I would start trying to usurp authority."

    She nodded and rolled her right hand in front of her in a ''go on'' motion. "And?"

    I thought carefully for several seconds before answering. "They weren''t very good at it. I''d be lying if I said the idea of taking over didn''t cross my mind. I think everyone my age thinks we can do things better than people older and more experienced than us." I shook my head. "In my experience, when I think like that, I''m usually wrong. Not every time, but often enough that betting the future of my family on me being some sort of military prodigy was not an option."

    I did not look for Captain Marko''s reaction. He would probably either be angry or smug. Seeing either expression on his face was likely to distract me.

    Pausing with my left index finger raised in front of me, I gave myself several more seconds to think. I definitely didn''t want there to be any confusion about what I was about to say. "Even in a perfect scenario for me, I didn''t see any way I could take over without there being fighting amongst ourselves." Another second to consider my words. "Watching most of the other militia trying to come to grips with the idea that we might be forced to kill other people who were strangers made me realize how much more traumatizing it would be if we fought each other, and killed acquaintances, friends, or even relatives."

    There were several low grumblings of agreement and slight nods from various people in the tent. The Stateman watched me, expressionless and intent, like a heron hunting frogs.

    "In the end, there was zero chance that the officers would willingly relinquish their command to me. If I did manage to gather a following, which was no means certain because I am not experienced at leading people, it wouldn''t guarantee anything. I would be required to take over by force, and the militia would splinter between those following me and those following the officers. People would be injured, some might even die, and desertion after the fact would be rampant as people tried to escape the horror of what we''d just done to one another. No matter who won the battle for control, the militia would be far less capable than what the officers are building now."

    Stateman Urda nodded. "Your logic is sound, and you recognize your personal and situational limitations." She closed her eyes briefly as she continued speaking. "You have at least a reasonable grasp of practicality. Your weakest points are a lack social self-control, especially when caught off guard or in emotionally charged situations. It''s apparent that you are punishing Rikard at the slightest provocation because you don''t feel his punishment under the law was sufficient, and you can get away with it until you turn sixteen."

    She paused and took a breath. "The episode that led to your conflict with Rikard has left some understandable mental scarring. After conversations with your Countyman, your family, and Marza on my way here, it is fairly clear that you are still making progress towards recovering from that event, in more ways than one." She paused and looked directly at where the Captain was sitting. "I apologize to my officers and their NCO''s for doubting them, but the stakes were too high. Verifying what I do not know is part of my job. I now agree with your assessments of Allen in every way that matters."

    She tapped her index finger three times on the table. "Albert, as of now, has anyone in this room lied since Allen and I began to speak?"

    Albert''s voice spoke from the desk in front of the Stateman. "Voice and body language analysis finds no evidence of intentionally spoken untruths, with near certainty. Metrics of verbal and body language patterns indicate unspoken comments were considered inconsequential or private, as opposed to evasive."

    I couldn''t see what the device looked like, and craning my neck for a better view seemed like a bad idea. It certainly wasn''t a large glass device like what our Countyman had in his home, and I didn''t think there was a large enough concealed space on the desk to hide a bat-like remote similar to the one used to speak to me.

    Haven''t I seen enough of Albert?

    How can he see all of us but I can''t see him?

    It escaped nobody''s attention that the Stateman had asked Albert about lies after making her apology to the officers and NCO''s. There were several softly spoken comments from the militia officers, Riko, and Don, accepting the Stateman''s apology. I wasn''t sure what was expected of me, so I kept my mouth shut and stayed still.

    After a few moments, the Stateman started speaking again. "Allen, I am hereby removing you from Captain Marko''s command, and attaching you to my staff of advisors, for the duration of this conflict." She glared at me. "Provisionally. You will not be attending me in any political meetings until after you demonstrate a great deal more self-control than what I have seen so far. Do not expect to be involved in high-level deliberations."

    The man and woman seated on either side of the Stateman seemed startled and turned to face her, but she ignored them. The pair said nothing and quickly turned their heads back towards me, watching even more intently than before.

    I did my best to control my voice. "Ma''am, does that mean you brought Zeke here to replace me?"

    She looked at me oddly for a moment. "What? No. You are still serving the State of New Charleston in a time of potential conflict. Your brother was brought here for the reason you asked for him to come here."

    Jabbing a finger in my direction, she continued. "I am detaching you from Captain Marko''s command since Albert''s restrictions have made it so you cannot assist the militia with military innovation. In my estimation, the last thing we can afford is to put you directly in harm''s way. If you are wounded in combat, there are many scenarios I can imagine where you might tell someone whatever it is that Albert doesn''t want in humanity''s knowledge base."

    She stopped speaking for a moment, and her eyes moved a little back and forth as she looked up at me. "I will do my best to help you avoid those scenarios, for everyone''s sake. At the same time, I will demand that you be useful to me. This will not be a vacation. Your idea about the gill nets was an excellent idea. Ten minutes after I read it, I had Albert pass a message to all coastal or riverside Countymen, advising them to begin having gill nets made. I also had my natural resources department look at other outlawed harvesting methods to see if there were any that we could use for a season without irrevocably harming wildlife stocks. They came up with several good ideas. Opium-spiked corn set out for deer and other wild game, for example."

    The chuckle was impossible to stop. I couldn''t help but imagine deer staggering around in the woods, oblivious to hunters. The meat would be tainted with opium, of course, but it could be used sparingly, mixed into other foods, so that residual effects on humans would be minimal.

    I wasn''t the only one to think it was funny. Others in the tent made amused noises. Stateman Urda smiled slightly. "Indeed. While cruel in a way, it would likely be at least a little funny to see." Her expression grew serious. "Opium is also quite an effective appetite suppressant, so the opium might serve twice."

    I nodded while saying nothing. It felt good to be appreciated, and even better for my ideas to have led to other ideas that could help. I was still upset about her yanking my leash to force reactions from me, but I could understand why she had done it.

    The Stateman continued. "If you disappoint or embarrass me, I will transfer you to the messenger''s guild and you will run your butt off for the rest of this conflict. I have been advised that the messenger''s guild tried to recruit you anyway."

    I breathed out a breath I hadn''t realized I''d been holding.

    The worst that might happen is that I might have to run messages? That''s a punishment?

    She snorted a single suppressed laugh and her entire torso jerked slightly. "Learning to control your expression is definitely something we need to work on before you accompany me to any meetings outside of those with my advisors. It is, in fact, now going to be one of your top priorities, because I''m not going to have you following me around telling everyone what you''re thinking."

    She met my eyes in a more normal gaze, without the hardness I''d seen before. "I''m not being easy on you, Allen. I''m going to get the best use out of you that I can. If I can''t teach you to control your deportment in a manner appropriate to an aide, I''ll put you somewhere useful where you can stay a country bumpkin."

    What will people think about me getting away from the militia? Riko, Anu, the others...

    Does it matter what people think?

    The Stateman is taking me away, I''m not deserting anyone.

    People-

    My thoughts were interrupted by the Stateman. "What are you thinking for? I''m not asking you. I''m telling you. Go work with your brother to prepare your pigs and carriage for travel. We''re leaving tomorrow morning."

    Swine. I managed to avoid saying it out loud.

    "I will allow you to ride with him for a few hours while I plan how I''m going to start teaching you what you need to know, but after that you will ride in my carriage on the way back to the city. The first thing I will insist on is that you will not carry that filthy pouch that you keep treats for your pigs in."

    Swine. I felt my eye twitch.

    I wanted to correct her, but I knew it was the wrong thing to do. I refused to believe Zeke hadn''t made her aware of the term we preferred if they had traveled together. With what I had seen of her so far, this was obviously a test. One even I could see. I kept silent while I nodded acceptance. "Yes, ma''am. May I leave now?"

    "Yes. You have one hour before I need you back here. I won''t want you around for political meetings any time soon, but I do want you present for the field trial of Karl, our prisoner. If nothing else, I''m certain I can count on you to make him nervous with your expressions."

    Be visibly angry at the man who had my boars killed? That, I can do.

    I smiled broadly. "Yes, Ma''am. I''ll be back in an hour."

    As the tent flap closed behind me, I barely heard Captain Marko comment. "Are you sure, ma''am? I''m not entirely certain he won''t attack Karl."

    The Stateman''s voice carried clearly out to me as I walked away from the tent. "I think he''ll control himself. If he can''t, well, he''s not sixteen yet, and I''ll have more stones to throw at him while I try to train him. Don and Riko will be here if needed, and I''d like Lieutenant Davis as well, if you can spare him."

    She intended for me to hear that.

    I''m tempted to just tell her to send me to work with the messengers.

    But that would put me a long way from people who can implement any ideas I-.

    I shook my head and walked rapidly towards my carriage. The carriage and sows wouldn''t get themselves ready for travel, and Zeke and I needed to talk about too many things. Daydreaming could come later.

    **

    Picking up one of the few remaining pieces of harness, Zeke spoke for the first time in several minutes. "You could always ask for a doctor to sever the muscles that control your vocal cords." He pulled on a piece of leather to test it. "I''ve never heard of anyone having it done intentionally, but it might be possible to cut the muscles that make them work, without interfering too much with your airway. Tim Pauley couldn''t talk right after he was gored in the throat by a bull, but his airway was clear enough to let him work, and a bull horn is a lot less precise than even the worst doctor."

    Asking Zeke for advice might have been a bad idea.

    I turned to stare at him, but he pretended not to notice. He couldn''t have missed it, we were sitting on the ground next to each other with a pile of harness between us. Unfortunately, his expression told me he wasn''t trying to be funny. He meant it. "Zeke, that wouldn''t solve anything. I could still write."

    "I doubt you would be as likely to accidentally write something as you would be to accidentally say something. Especially with that temper of yours." After a pause, he continued. "I''ve never heard of anyone sleep-writing either. You''re going to be sleeping in good company on most nights soon if you and Marza don''t fall apart in the next couple months."

    I shook my head. "I''ll think about it later if need be, but I''m definitely not considering it right now. Self-mutilation is low on the list of options."

    "What''s higher on the list?" Zeke was tense and didn''t look at me as he spoke. Instead, he watched his hands far more closely than was needed for routine harness inspection, which we could both do with our eyes closed, literally.

    "Learning to better control myself. Like I said, the Stateman is taking me on as an aide for the duration of the conflict. She as much as said that she''s going to hound me into controlling myself better. With what I have running around in my head, and what happens if it gets out, I can get behind that idea."

    Zeke shrugged and looked sideways at me for a moment. I could see a little doubt on his face. "You know I''m not as creative as you, Allen, but you aren''t as grounded as me. I always look for the simplest solution that works. You tend to think longer when you aren''t forced to make a decision. I would have been making plans to have my ability to speak completely removed before I even broke camp to return from the lake if it had been me having that conversation with Albert." He paused. "It''s hard to change yourself on a fundamental level. Neither of us has been very successful at it. Me with my bluntness, you with your temper."

    It does make sense, based on what he knows.

    I wasn''t sworn to silence about my discussion with the Stateman.

    "I would more seriously consider it, if Albert hadn''t told the Stateman that it was more likely he would de-civilize us if I were hidden away, killed, or drugged and sent to the prison colony. My presence is a mitigating factor, not an aggravating factor. Somehow."

    "Hrm." Zeke looked at the swine under the carriage as his hands worked another section of harness, twisting, folding, pulling, and testing with rapid, careful movements. "So, in other words, you aren''t alone in having that knowledge which you can''t divulge. Albert thinks it''s more likely your absence will lead to those people dispensing what you know. Somehow. If he''s not playing a much deeper game." He sighed. "That''s a lot of weight on your shoulders. How are you holding up?"

    "I''m hoping that I''m only supposed to be a catalyst for something. Trying to imagine that I''m going to miraculously solve this problem single-handedly-"

    I stopped speaking abruptly, and Zeke turned his head a little to look at me.

    Smiling, I wriggled my left hand to draw Zeke''s attention, and then carefully lifted the hand to slap my injured right shoulder lightly for emphasis. "...is truly frightening."

    We both laughed for a few seconds. It felt good. But it couldn''t last. When I looked over at the hourglass, it was nearly empty.

    "Allen, I wish I could help more." He reached across my back with his right hand, carefully gripped my torso at armpit level, and then bounced me against him, shoulder to shoulder, never touching my injury. "You just do your best, little brother. We might look at the world differently, but one thing I''m not worried about is you failing because you didn''t try. I''ve never seen you back away from something because it''s a lot of work." He looked at me and grinned, showing a lot of teeth. "Even if you''re sometimes a little slow to get started because you insist on trying to figure out a better way to do it."

    I felt tension draining out of me as I realized Zeke wasn''t going to try to press me on his idea of self-mutilation. He was trusting me to do the right thing. Not only that, he was trusting me to be able to figure out what the right thing was. There had been a severe shortage of trust being directed at me recently. Trust coming from my brother was a welcome mental balm. "Thanks, Zeke."

    I hope I can figure out what the right thing is, and that I can act on it when I see it.

    "Eh, that''s what big brothers are for, right? At least half the job, anyway. When this mess is over, we can find something to argue about, alright?"

    I elbowed him in the ribs. "Fine. Schedule one big argument for after second harvest. Neither of us has ever had to deal with as many sugar beets and radishes as we''ll get this harvest. I''m sure we can find something to squabble over as we process the crop."

    I hope we get that good harvest, and the chance to argue.

    Zeke snorted. "That works for me." I felt an elbow bump my ribs, and Zeke pointed at the hourglass. "Time for you to go back. Sand''s almost out. I''ll finish checking that harness and the others. Leave it where you''re sitting."

    I carefully set the harness aside and stood up from the ground. "In a way, I don''t want to see him. At the same time, I want to judge him for myself. Maybe it''ll help me some with closure. Especially if I am able to help the Stateman get some useful information out of him. Finally confronting the man who-"

    I went silent, remembering Hoss and Bigboy hanging, field dressed, behind the kitchen.

    Zeke didn''t wait long to fill the silence. In a low voice he muttered. "It''s not just about you in there, Allen. The Stateman is shrewd to a degree that''s hard to comprehend. Almost frightening."

    He stared at the horizon briefly, a serious, thoughtful expression on his face. "Scratch the ''almost.'' Straight out frightening. She was starting to tell me about you before I was done telling her about you." He gave me a sober look. "And getting most of it right." He paused and coughed twice, quickly. "Sure, she''d spoken to Ma, Pa, Granpa, and Marza first, of course, but it was still unnatural. Before she ever met you, she seemed to know you as well as I do."

    I stared down at Zeke, where he was still sitting on the ground. "Really? No tall tales?" I''d certainly felt overmatched by the Stateman''s sheer intelligence and presence, but from what Zeke was telling me, the Stateman was beyond any level of intelligence I would have considered credible.

    With an impish grin, Zeke responded. "I''m pushing your leg, not pulling it. See?" He reached out and smacked my thigh from where he was seated on the ground. "No joke, Allen. She''s really that smart. And I doubt you want to see what happens if you''re late when she expects you." He waved a hand at me in a shooing motion. "Git. Just remember to watch her. I doubt she moves a muscle without a reason."

    I reflected on what was happening around me as I approached the tent. Albert had seemingly set me up as some sort of catalyst for whatever machinations he was using to test humanity. The Stateman was going to be trying to turn me into some sort of political aide, which was something I had little interest in. I was happy with the future I had planned out with Marza.

    If I lose my calluses while I''m sitting on my backside behind a desk, my hands will be ground meat for the first couple months back on the farm.

    I''ll probably lose a lot of endurance too.

    The swine will be out of training, and I''ll have to be careful around them.

    I almost walked into the tent and asked to be sent directly to the messenger guild, but when I was a half dozen steps away, I stopped. The Stateman might be frightening in her own way, but unlike Albert, she was human. More importantly, unlike Albert, I could watch her and had a good chance of learning from her. Even if I couldn''t match her.

    I''d be a fool to miss the opportunity to watch a first-class mind at work.

    Even if she drives me mad in only a couple days, I could learn a lot.

    I nodded to the tent guards and announced myself as I started walking towards the tent again. "Allen Rickson, reporting to the Stateman as requested."

    From inside the tent, the Stateman answered. "Let him in."

    The guards let me pass, and I entered to find that the tent had been completely rearranged. There were three chairs visible, two on one side of where the large table had been earlier, and one on the other.

    In the single chair, the man who had tried to kill me was sitting with a heavily bandaged stump of a leg. He was restrained the same way Brad had been, leather and rope shackles, arms, torso, and waist. He certainly wasn''t running anywhere, but he was still held in his seat by four ropes attached to a heavy leather belt and staked to the ground.

    Brad hadn''t been restrained with staked ropes, but Brad hadn''t been in the same tent with the Stateman.

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.Opposite him, roughly ten feet away, the Stateman sat in one seat and patted the seat next to her. "Your seat is here, Allen."

    The man and woman who had been sitting next to Stateman Urda earlier were standing behind her chair now. The man would be standing directly behind me when I was seated. He stared at me as I approached, but I didn''t get a sense of threat, just watchfulness.

    I moved through the tent and sat next to Stateman Urda, as directed. The Stateman didn''t appear to be trying to communicate with me. She was consulting written notes.

    I glared at the man who had tried to kill me. To his right was Don. On the other side was Riko. Lieutenant Davis took up a position by the tent entrance. He was the only officer present, which surprised me.

    I stiffened when I saw who was behind the prisoner, smiling at me.

    Rikard. I''m going to wipe that smile-

    I stopped myself from moving, and it took all my self-control to not glare at Stateman Urda.

    Zeke was right.

    This didn''t happen by accident.

    While the Stateman flipped papers back and forth, I stared at the sitting prisoner, focusing all of my anger at him. In my field of view were both the man who had tried to rape my future wife, and the man who had killed my two boars and had made an effort to do the same to me. Sitting next to me was a woman who was manipulating me like a carpentry tool.

    I had plenty of anger to focus.

    The prisoner was looking at me nervously, but his eyes weren''t tracking properly. I knew how painful an amputated lower leg could be, from my childhood memories of Granpa after he lost his. He would either be in incredible pain, or heavily sedated, and he wasn''t in apparent pain.

    With a rustle of paper, the Stateman passed her bundle of notes to the woman standing behind her.

    It surprised me that she didn''t stand when she started to speak, but we certainly weren''t in a formal courtroom. "Karl Sweep, you are being accused of a premeditated act of violence against another human. Do you deny the charge?"

    Karl''s voice was slurred. He was clearly sedated. "I d''noth recognith tha jurisdiction of New Charlthon. New Charlthon and New Tokyoo er mobilithed again one another, an hothtilities haf started."

    Stateman Urda immediately replied. "This is not a New Charleston court, it is a Nirvana Court, Mr. Sweep. I am the Stateman of New Charleston. Albert is present at these proceedings." She pointed to the side of the tent, at a small, shiny object hovering in midair. Roughly the volume of my fist, but flattened. The alternating bright glinting surfaced and light drinking sections indicated the presence of a high albedo metal encased in glass or clear plastic, and something dark that was likely an advanced carbon composite.

    Peering comically at the floating device, Karl spoke again. "If thas Albert, and thish is real court, want metal clearithy from drugth." He glared at the floating device. "Know me righths"

    Albert''s voice emerged from the floating ovoid. "Karl Sweep, I will approach you now, and offer medical treatment delivered by low pressure compressed air into your nasal passages. Roughly ten seconds after treatment, you will experience a brief period of unconsciousness. In less than one minute after you go unconscious, you will wake. At that time, your mind will be clear, and you will be incapable of feeling pain. This state of affairs will last roughly one hour, and can be repeated up to four times with local resources, if necessary. I will be the judge of necessity. You must agree that the brief period of unconsciousness is acceptable before I will provide the treatment."

    Karl''s mind seemed less effected than his lips. I suppose that the shock of meeting Albert probably went a long way towards countering depressant drugs, at least temporarily. He didn''t hesitate. "I athept."

    Watching Albert''s device floating through the air towards Karl was thrilling. The early years of all school curriculums were full of lessons to make sure students knew Albert was an artificial intelligence created by humanity, not some sort of deity.

    A sufficiently advanced technology can produce effects that might be confused with supernatural agency by the ignorant. Albert certainly could demonstrate unnatural-looking physics to most of the population. I wasn''t ignorant, but seeing something that looked solid floating through the air, defying any physics I''d ever had the opportunity to see in action, still gave me chills. It just seemed fundamentally wrong, even though I knew it was possible. I had no references. Even the tiny remote I''d seen before had looked like a bat, and flown like one.

    It''s like tossing a rock, and watching it get stuck in midair.

    I was staring at the device and trying to see how it flew when I noticed a sound coming from the floor. When I looked down, I saw a thick rug under us that I hadn''t seen before. Underneath Albert''s remote, I saw the rug flexing slightly.

    I double-checked. There was nothing between the rug and the floating machine.

    Some sort of magnetic field?

    I could barely remember anything about electromagnetics. It was mostly taught so we would understand static electricity and lightning in its various forms, as well as animal nervous systems and the electrical senses of many aquatic animals. I knew it was possible to generate physical force with electrical field interactions. The moving divot in the rug was proof that force was being exerted. The equations wouldn''t come to mind though. I hadn''t even thought about them for at least five years.

    I''ll try to derive the equations later. That''s got to take a lot of power.

    Wait. Does that mean the rug is full of metal too?

    I stared at the rug, which might be worth dozens of farms, even if only a small fraction of it were metallic.

    The Stateman poked the side of my thigh with her finger, and I looked at her.

    She turned her head slightly towards me, caught my eyes with her left eye, shifted that eye to look at the prisoner, and then back to me. All without moving her head more than a few degrees.

    The meaning was clear. I nodded fractionally and started staring at the prisoner again. I felt my anger begin to grow as Rikard caught my eye and smiled, again.

    So help me, if he says Marza''s name after this, I''m going to knock him to the ground so hard he''ll bounce back to his feet again.

    I suddenly realized that the Stateman might be planning to take Rikard with us as well, as some sort of teaching aid to test my self-control. I cursed inwardly.

    Ulcers or bruised knuckles. Maybe both.

    Kevin was raptly staring at Albert''s approaching remote and probably hadn''t seen our movements. He went cross-eyed watching when Albert approached. When there was a sudden hissing noise of compressed gas being released, he jumped.

    After the treatment had been administered, I watched Kevin''s eyes go wide in startlement. His limbs jerked slightly and nonsense noises came out of his mouth for a few seconds before his eyes closed, and he slumped forward, slightly.

    Albert''s remote returned to where it had been before. The dimple in the floor stayed under it the whole time.

    The Stateman looked at me again, this time directly. "I can see you''re going to be useless until you get some answers. Yes. That type of remote is supported by the rug, magnetically, but the rug has no metal in it. It''s a cotton rug over carbon and ceramics with a fuel cell, made by Albert himself. Albert will print out a detailed document about it if you ask. The ancients used the same technology for automatons that cleaned their houses."

    Automatons. Cleaning houses.

    I shook my head to get rid of images of Albert with a feather duster.

    Pointing at Kevin with a quick motion of her right wrist, Stateman Urda continued. "In a few seconds, he''ll be awake again, and much more clear-minded. I need you to appear angry enough to keep him mentally off-balance. If you would prefer, I''ll ask Rikard to come stand behind you. If you still can''t stay angry-looking, I''ll ask him to give you a backrub and whisper someone''s name in your ear."

    My vision started to go red as I realized what she was threatening. I didn''t dare move quickly, and I was too angry to speak at first. With deliberate slowness, I turned my head as I counted to five. When my count was finished, I could stare at her full-on with both eyes. Every muscle was tight, to keep me in total control of myself. My right shoulder blazed in pain.

    The room had gone suddenly silent. All the little sounds of movement and breathing stopped. In my peripheral vision, Riko was staring at me with wide eyes, shaking his head minutely.

    I locked eyes with the Stateman, easily this time, and snapped out words one at a time so I wouldn''t start yelling. "That. Won''t. Be. Necessary."

    She smiled like I''d paid her a compliment and looked away from me, towards Kevin. "I''m going to break that temper of yours, Allen, and you''ll thank me for it. Then I''m going to try to teach you to use that impressive angry stare on command. But for now, I''ll use what I have at hand."

    Definitely ulcers. Maybe a stroke.

    I turned away from her, towards Kevin. Albert was completely forgotten. As I rubbed my right shoulder with my left hand, I could feel wetness trapped against the skin by the bandages. I''d torn the wound open again.

    The room grew louder as people started breathing again, but nobody said a word. Rikard wasn''t smiling at me any longer. Instead, he was staring at the Stateman with a concerned look on his face. He knew what I would be planning to do to him if she made good on that promise and had him touch me while saying Marza''s name. She couldn''t force him to say the word.

    Kevin snorted a few seconds later and started speaking as he straightened in his seat. "Wow, that was one awful dre-"

    Stateman Urda interrupted him. "It was not a dream. You, Kevin Sweep, initiated hostilities between New Tokyo and New Charleston by attacking Allen Rickson. Evidence indicates your attack was premeditated, and your intent was to kill. Do you wish to contest the charges and submit to cross-examination by Albert?"

    Kevin''s face twitched and he looked at his bonds and straightened the stump of his leg out in front of him. Several seconds later, he responded. "No. I freely admit to premeditated violence with the intent to kill, in a time of war."

    "So, trying to kill Allen is your first violence offense?" The Stateman asked, gravely.

    "Of course it is." Kevin responded, glancing at me. He grew visibly tense, and his eyes stayed on me for a second before he looked back at the Stateman.

    The Stateman relaxed back in her chair, and crossed her left leg over her right while steepling her hands in front of her chest, and ducking her head slightly. "Not even any childhood offenses?"

    He shrugged. "A few squabbles when I was very young. None that were remarkable enough for me to be censured." He looked at me again. "Are you releasing your prison population to forage for you? I tried to kill him. I admit it. Does Mr. Angry really need to be here to stare at me?"

    "Following whose orders?" The Stateman asked, quietly.

    "What?"

    "You claim to be a model citizen, with no violence history. Yet, one day, you decide to go wander off into the woods with a bunch of friends and try to kill someone?" The Stateman paused. "This does not follow."

    Kevin''s eyes bulged and he shook his head, whipping long blonde hair around his face. "We''re at war. Do you think I just gathered a few of my friends to go on a jaunty little murder trip?"

    His eyes trailed over me again. "You don''t see me looking at him like he''s looking at me. He''s still got his arm. His trained attack animals damaged my leg too badly to save it. If anyone should be on trial here, it''s him. Two boars killed one person and injured four others. That makes him guilty of five counts of violence if I''m not mistaken." He stared at me, and there was definitely real anger in his eyes. "They were all friends of mine. Including Dana, the one who died."

    It hurt to know the name of the person Hoss and Bigboy had killed, but I set it aside for later.

    I started to speak out of turn, fully expecting to be told to shut up. It didn''t happen. I was allowed to speak, voice cracking with rage. "Hoss and Bigboy are..." I grimaced and resumed speaking. "...were very intelligent animals from a strain of swine that my family has been breeding for intelligence for thousands of generations. You shot at them from the ground. They were easily smart enough to recognize who wounded them, and fight back. I have never trained any of my swine to attack humans. I''m more than willing to submit to direct questioning by Albert to verify the truth of what I say."

    In the gentlest voice that I''d heard her use yet, the Stateman said, "Allen, please be silent unless I ask you to speak."

    It was all I could do to avoid looking at her like she''d grown a second head. Instead, I stared at Kevin and thought about my boars, while trying to avoid thinking about who Dana might have been.

    "So, Kevin, you say that your attack was somehow justified because New Tokyo and New Charleston are at war?"

    "No, not to Albert, anyway. That''s a violence law violation, with no question. But New Charleston does not have any civil jurisdiction over me for an action taken in a time of war." He spat on the rug. "You wouldn''t charge your own militia in civil court for actions taken against the enemy unless the offenses were abhorrent. I did not attempt to cause any more pain than what would have been required to kill him."

    In a very serious tone, the Stateman responded. "I see. However, there is one flaw in your argument against civil criminal charges. I am the Stateman of New Charleston. I spoke to your Stateman yesterday. We speak every day with Albert''s assistance, at least briefly." Her voice sharpened and she dropped her crossed leg to the floor and abruptly leaned forward. "Our states are not at war. Yet. Not even after you tried to kill one of my militia members."

    "What?" Kevin looked stunned but recovered quickly. "I don''t believe you. You''re playing some sort of mental game with me."

    Leaning back in her chair, it was clear that the Stateman was in control. "I know what your orders were supposed to be. Many groups of you were sent to infiltrate our borders and find the easiest ways to move deep into New Charleston without using the roads. If your late plantings failed, and Stateman Taylor was unable to secure enough foodstuffs to feed you population over the winter, large numbers of people could move through the wilderness and try to bypass our defensive camps at the roads on the borders. Your Stateman didn''t tell me her plans, but it''s obvious in retrospect. Our scouts have seen signs of at least eight other groups along the border and found many hatchet-marked trees along easy-to-travel terrain."

    The two of them locked eyes for several seconds until he looked away.

    I had never stopped staring at him since he woke, but he wasn''t looking at me any longer. I suspected that I was no longer needed, but I was still angry at him, so I kept staring, even though it was starting to feel silly.

    "Stateman Taylor and I very much want to know who tried to start a war between us before we were done exhausting possible solutions. Albert hasn''t exercised his authority to override a civil court and begin cross-examining you, so I am willing to believe most of what you say about your prior personal violence history."

    She raised her right index finger and pointed at him. "Someone told you that we were at war, and we aren''t. That means someone wanted to start a war. Someone wanted you to start a war. You were probably pulled to the side and had your orders changed at the last minute by someone you thought had the authority to do so, or who was a viable mouthpiece for such a person." The Stateman was a study of motionless aggression. "Who. Was. It?"

    Kevin was sweating heavily by this point, clearly in deep thought, but still saying nothing. Suddenly, he spoke. "No. I''m not telling you anything. For all I know, Stateman Taylor is-"

    Stateman Urda interrupted him. "Albert. Did I speak with Stateman Taylor yesterday on this topic?"

    "Yes." Albert responded.

    "Did Stateman Taylor request for me to try to find out from Kevin Sweep who was responsible for nearly starting a war between us?"

    Again, Albert responded. "Yes."

    Wow. I had no idea Statemen worked that closely with one another.

    "Stateman Taylor did not necessarily tell you the truth," Kevin interjected, looking more confident.

    "Albert, if I am unable to get the name of the violence offender that gave Kevin unlawful orders, are you going to interrogate him to determine who it was that ordered him to commit violence?"

    Albert''s remote took a noticeably longer time to respond. "Yes."

    Kevin looked shocked. "What? I already admitted to-"

    "Silence." Stateman Urda said in a tone that commanded obedience.

    Kevin recovered quickly and started to open his mouth again.

    Before he could say anything, the Stateman was speaking forcefully. "Kevin, Albert doesn''t care about your guilt at this point. However, he certainly does care about the person who ordered you to kill people. He knows the order didn''t come from Stateman Taylor, or he wouldn''t want to interrogate you if I fail to get you to tell me."

    "How does he-"

    She cut him off again. "Albert watches Stateman Taylor as closely as he watches me." Her voice got quite bitter. "I can''t sit on a toilet without Albert knowing all the details."

    "Then why isn''t he-"

    Again, the Stateman gestured curtly with her right hand, silencing Kevin. "If I couldn''t solve most problems myself, why would Albert have given me the responsibility to lead a State? I''m supervised closely, but Albert''s not holding my hand." She paused. "If you don''t give me a name, Albert will take it from you, and Stateman Taylor will-"

    Kevin interrupted the Stateman this time. "Fine. I will tell Albert. In private. I do not trust you. It is my understanding that we are in a state of war." He looked at Albert''s remote. "Albert, will you verify if New Tokyo and New Charleston are at war?"

    Silence.

    Why didn''t he answer?

    "Albert, answer the question, please." Stateman Urda stated. "Despite his wounds, it is possible that Kevin will attempt to commit violence against his jailers if he believes himself to be a war captive and not a civil criminal."

    Albert''s drone spoke less than a second later. "I have warned you about using me against your opponents, Stateman Urda. I have also advised you on many occasions that manufacturing scenarios or intentionally shaping events in attempts to force me to act as you wish is objectionable." His voice sounded accusatory and slightly angry.

    "I''m still holding my office," Stateman Urda replied, confidently. "If you aren''t satisfied with the job I do, Albert, you can find someone else to do it. I ask you for nothing that I do not feel is necessary. If you do not act on what I feel is necessary, my performance will be inhibited. Answer his question, please."

    There was a long moment of silence before Albert replied tonelessly. "New Tokyo and New Charleston are not at war, Kevin Sweep." After a pause, he continued. "Have him taken to his holding cell. I will attend him privately with a different remote when he arrives."

    Addressing the prisoner with a less edgy voice than she had been using when speaking to him up beforehand, the Stateman passed sentence. "After we determine what happened, Kevin Sweep, Stateman Taylor and I will work together and reconsider your sentence. For now, you will be remanded to the New Charleston high-security prison, without possibility of parole, for the rest of your life."

    Don and Riko helped Kevin to his foot, and then interlocked their hands and forearms between them, creating a seat of arms. As the two Sergeants carrying Kevin left the tent, Lieutenant Davis and Rikard followed behind.

    I ignored Rikard and looked at the Stateman, and then at Albert''s drone.

    She smiled at me. "Go ahead and say it, Allen. Albert doesn''t care what you say about him."

    I shook my head. "First I have another question. Wouldn''t it have been easier for Stateman Taylor to get answers out of her own militia? Six of them made it back across the river."

    "She''s traveled to the camp that Kevin came from already. None of the others knew who told Kevin we were at war. He was their corporal. There were only a handful of people that could have told him we were at war, and been believed. I suspect she''ll have answers by tomorrow, if she doesn''t have it settled already."

    "Why hasn''t Albert taken action then? Why would he pretend to need to get the information from Kevin? Won''t he tell you what Kevin tells him?"

    She shrugged. "Albert probably already knows who it was, and is watching them closely. When dealing with Albert, you have to realize that he will work with us, and for us, both as a tool and as an advisor. However, he won''t actively make decisions outside of his sphere of interest unless we''re interfering with his plans. He doesn''t govern. Be thankful for that."

    I looked at Albert again. I couldn''t make myself talk in a normal voice, and found myself whispering. "You said he will help or offer advice, but it looked like you tricked him into helping you? He even complained about it."

    With a toothy grin and a shake of her head, she replied. "No. Not in the least. He knew exactly what I was doing." She peered at me curiously with a slight tilt to her head. "Do you play chess?"

    "I do. Not very well." I shrugged, and my shoulder reminded me that I''d probably ripped out some stitches.

    As I rubbed my shoulder gently, I continued. "My mother and I would play boardless games when we were weeding the kitchen garden, but that was before I was old enough to work alone with our swine." I emphasized the word ''swine,'' slightly.

    "You understand at least enough to know how you can move pieces in such a way that it forces your opponent to take certain actions, correct?"

    "Of course. Encroachment and entrapment." I realized I sounded a little irritated. "Sorry."

    She smiled, slightly. "Albert rarely moves against his own officers. Provided, of course, that we''re doing a satisfactory job. He uses significantly less processing power with us doing our jobs than he would without us. That passivity allows us to box him into situations where he has little choice other than doing what we want him to do, unless he wants to expend a lot more effort. Only some Countymen do it, but every single Stateman does."

    "Ah." I said, realizing her point. "And Statemen are chosen from the ranks of Countymen, by Albert. He''s choosing for it, even if he''s... warning you when he thinks you''re close to overstepping."

    She nodded. "Exactly. Albert prefers to be passive and let us do as much as possible."

    I stared at her for a second, speechless. "Passive is definitely not how I would have described Albert when I spoke to him."

    The Stateman laughed a belly laugh. "If we get too aggressive with using him, or work counter to his desires, he''ll pull us up short faster than you can blink. If we force him to expend a lot of processing power or resources to avoid taking an action we''ve tried to box him into, it''s a real problem. If that happens more than a couple times, he will replace us rapidly if he can find someone competent, or start aggressively guiding us as he seeks a replacement."

    "How much of what you were saying about you and Stateman Taylor was true? It sounded like the two of you were collaborating fairly intensely. We might be in a war in a month or two, but you''re helping her find disruptive elements in her militia. Isn''t that counterproductive?"

    "You aren''t thinking it all the way through, Allen. We aren''t fighting yet. We might not have to fight at all." She leaned back in her chair, and her face grew very tired-looking. "If we Statemen are too passive, the people serving under us will do to us exactly what we do to Albert. They will tweak policy or their department activities this way and that, in ways that benefit or please them. Sometimes, it''s real improvement. Most of the time it''s harmless and ignorable personal quirks, and we just go with it. Every now and then one of them will do something disruptive, and make our lives miserable until we straighten out the mess. I had to relieve a county tax collector from office last year because they decided to raise taxes, unofficially. Albert removed that Countyman from office as well, because they should have taken action before I did."

    She kneaded the sides of her forehead with her thumbs. "In this case, whatever New Tokyo officer or NCO tried to start the war might believe an accelerated war escalation timetable is in the best interest of New Tokyo. I can easily imagine scenarios where a reasonably intelligent, aggressive-minded person might think it''s better to start the war they think is inevitable when New Charleston is not as well-prepared as we will be in another month."

    Something about our conversation was resonating. I could feel an idea bouncing around in the back of my mind, the right-brain toying with ideas and not keeping the left brain in the loop.

    She noticed my distraction. "Are you OK, Allen? I saw you rubbing your shoulder. Do you need to go see Doctor Sven?"

    She seemed legitimately concerned. I couldn''t tell if she meant it or not, and that bothered me. The Stateman seemed to wear emotions like hats. I shook my head. "No." I tapped my head with the knuckled of my left hand. Something just started bouncing around in the right half. It''s bouncing pretty hard too."

    "Bill, Tany." The Stateman looked up at the man and woman who I had forgotten were present, even though they were standing right behind us. "I want you to repeat the conversation that Allen and I had, from the time when the prisoner was taken out."

    "Yes, Ma''am." The woman, Tany, replied as the man said the same, nearly in unison.

    The two of them stepped around the chairs and moved in front of us, faced each other, and started reciting exactly what the Stateman and I had said to one another. My memory was good, but their performance was remarkable. I was fairly sure they weren''t missing a word. They even had the cadence and tone right, as far as I could tell.

    "Wow," I said, in awe, as they finished.

    The two of them grinned at me in response to my compliment, but said nothing.

    "Impressive, isn''t it? Bill and Tany are fraternal twins. They both have near-perfect memory. I do too, but I''m getting older, and the memory isn''t a hundred percent any longer, especially when I''m short on sleep." She looked at me and raised her finger accusingly. "This time listen to what they are saying, instead of just enjoying the show. See if we can get that idea of yours to shake out. I''m curious what it might be, if it''s somehow based on tonight''s conversations."

    Bill and Tany looked at me with slightly sour expressions.

    I smiled. "Sorry, I was too impressed with what you were doing to pay attention to the actual words of the recitation."

    Tany lightly punched Bill in the shoulder. "You missed a pronoun anyway, goon."

    "Which one? Maybe it was because I was startled after the article you skipped?"

    "I did not skip an article." Tany huffed. Her brows drew together briefly before she grumbled. "Fine. I skipped an article. I guess you can be right, once."

    They launched into another recitation and this time, I listened to the conversation for content, not for entertainment.

    Two more recitations and a lot of irritated glances from the twins later, the Stateman stood. "Sleep on it, Allen. Maybe it''ll come to you. The officers will want their tent back. They need sleep too."

    "It''s so close. I can feel it." I complained.

    She smiled. "It''s amazing what the boys in the closet can manage to solve when you let them work together without supervision. Try to sleep. You''re trying too hard."

    My mind latched onto the phrase ''work together.'' And I gaped like a landed fish as the idea crystallized suddenly.

    The Statemen are working together, now, even though they know they might be forced to fight to save the lives of their citizens.

    Why aren''t they working together more?

    Like wolves.

    I looked up. The Stateman was standing at arm''s distance from me, staring at my face intently, her arms crossed in front of her chest. "Did it come to you?

    I started speaking slowly. I still wasn''t fully certain I understood the politics. "You''re working closely with Stateman Taylor. Is that just because our states border one another?"

    The Stateman looked at me with a puzzled expression. "I have a very strong working relationship with Stateman Taylor of New Tokyo, and Stateman Mario of New Ecuador. We have to work together to maintain regional economic stability. We trade quite a bit with new Singapore across the Inner Sea as well, so I have a fairly strong relationship with Stateman Zan." She paused and frowned. "I''m not following where you''re going."

    "Ma''am, I don''t know your upbringing. Have you ever watched either dogs or wolves herding or hunting?"

    "No. I''m no country girl." She paused. "Explain. I''m tired."

    "Dogs or wolves can control or kill animals many times larger than them, even large predators like bears and big cats. They work together to-"

    She shook her head rapidly. "It won''t work, Allen. I''ve already talked extensively with Stateman Taylor. The logistics for both of our states to combine forces and try to threaten or invade Second Landing are impossible. Our supply lines would be untenable across that much distance, and Second Landing has the canal systems which will help them make their defensive positions nearly impossible to breach."

    "Ma''am. You''re thinking too small."

    The Stateman raised an eyebrow at me and looked a little irritated. "I''m thinking small? Nobody''s told me that for decades. Tell me more."

    "You''re used to dealing with a couple preferred trading partners and that''s it." I paused. "What do the other states think of Second Landing''s unwillingness to sell grain at reasonable rates?" I paused. "All the other states. Not just your strongest trading partners."

    "I imagine-"

    Her eyes both popped fully open in a wide-eyed stare focused somewhere over my shoulder. A second later she closed her eyes, and opened them again and she met my eyes. "Are you serious?"

    "Deadly serious, ma''am. Second Landing might think they can win a defensive fight with both New Tokyo and New Charleston on their southern border. And they might be right." I shrugged. "I''ll trust you on that. But what if New Dublin were to threaten to help us from the north, or New Singapore and New Ecuador with sea-landed militia from either the north or south?"

    The Stateman was staring at me as I finished explaining. I was almost certain she understood already, but I wanted to be absolutely certain. "What if all or even most of the other Statemen decided that Second Landing was out of line? What if you and Stateman Taylor could convince them it was in everyone''s best interest to act together to enforce global community standards of cooperation?"

    "Threaten a global war, to prevent a regional war?" She whispered, with a stunned expression on her face.

    I winced.  "That''s a bit harsh.  I prefer to think we''re setting a pack of livestock guardian dogs on a wayward bull, to bring it back to the herd."

 Epilogue

    "Wow. So what happened after that?" Marza asked. "She talks to Stateman Taylor every day, you said. Did she have Albert connect them together to talk again? What did Stateman Taylor say?  Do you know?"

    All the adults of my family, Marza, Marza''s ma, pa, and granma were crowded around our kitchen table, listening to the story. I hadn''t sworn secrecy about anything other than what Albert wanted me to avoid discussing. I also didn''t know much.

    I shrugged. "I''m not sure. She almost chased me out of the tent, telling me to find her officers for an emergency meeting. She also told me to have the kitchen deliver strong hot tea to the tent. She very emphatically informed me that I wasn''t to attend the meeting."

    From across the crowded table, Zeke responded. "Must have been a ''bumpkin-free'' meeting."

    I pretended to throw something at him with my uninjured left arm. He ducked, pretending to avoid a projectile.

    Zeke and I smiled at each other. "I''m sure you''re right, Zeke. Two Statemen talking about how to defuse a war between our states and create a coalition of states to push back against Second Landing?" I pointed at my chest with my left index finger and raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn''t have wanted me in the room for a political conversation like that. I''m good with ideas, but I have a hard time holding my tongue."

    All of my family and Marza started nodding like I''d said something self-evident. Marza''s family didn''t nod, but they were all clearly amused.

    I looked around the table. "Hmm. I was hoping for at least a couple dissenting opinions."

    Pa chuckled, and Ma reached across the table from my right and touched my nose in admonishment. "We taught you to always tell the truth or say nothing. Wouldn''t be right for us to break that rule."

    Granpa interjected. "And it''s too funny to hear you admit it for us not to react."

    After that comment, my family didn''t just nod, they laughed. Even Marza''s family joined in, now that they recognized it was safe.  Marza, of course, laughed as well, but she was leaning into me with her hand across my back, giving me a one-armed hug as she laughed.

    I sighed, deeply, expressing the vastness of my patience with a smile. "Well, before I left the tent, she did tell me that if I thought of anything to contribute, I was to tell Doctor Sven, who would be outside the tent with the tent guards. The doctor would be available for consultation, but also to make sure nothing less than critical interrupted the discussions she would be hosting. I have no idea what happened in the meeting."

    "So, that was it? That''s all you know?" Edward looked at me, askance.

    "Not quite. Before she chased me out of the tent, I asked her if I could have my mail back, so I''d have something to do while she saved the world."

    Marza slapped her forehead. "You said those exact words, didn''t you?"

    "Yes. I wanted my mail, and I was still unhappy with her for the mental shenanigans she was making the officers inflict on me. I''m still not entirely over that. It was painful."

    Marza smacked me on the back of my head, lightly. "What did she do?"

    I rubbed my head in pock-pain and smiled at her. "She stared at me with beady eyes for about three seconds, laughed, and then told Tany to go get my file from her carriage. Then she poked me in the chest and told me to go get the officers, and order the tea. She was clear that I''d better move as fast as my gimp arm would let me, and let me know I could pick up my mail in an hour from Doctor Sven." I smiled a little at the memory. "Doctor Sven had my mail an hour later. I figured she had to make sure nothing important had gotten mixed into my information."

    "Like whatever notes she had written up about you." Marza''s Granma muttered, mostly to herself.

    Zeke replied slowly. "Probably. She was constantly scribbling on the ride there as she asked me about you, Allen. No idea how she could write in a carriage with all the wobbling and bouncing, but she looked to be doing more drawing than writing. Lots of circles and lines. I never dared try to peek at what she was doing directly, and she was careful not to show it to me."

    That made a lot of sense, and I nodded back to Zeke. "You''re probably right. Everything in the pouch I was given was either a duplicate of mail I had sent or an original from someone I''d written to. Except two things."

    I waited, silently, and looked at Marza with an innocent expression that definitely didn''t work.

    Marza leaned over next to my ear, and mock-whispered. "We''re not married yet, but if you keep teasing me, I''m going to ask Edward and Zeke to throw you in your irrigation pond. They might even do it."

    Edward and Zeke looked at each other and smiled slightly, then back at me.

    "Fine, fine." I briefly raised both of my hands in surrender, despite the twinges in my bandaged right arm. After I was done play-surrendering, I reached into my pouch and pulled out two envelopes. One dyed green, and the other dyed blue. They were both marked with a stylized map of New Charleston. Official state documents.

    Pa and Granpa stared at the green note, but I saw Ma and Marza''s family staring at the blue note.

    Granpa spoke first. "The land office replied already? What did they say?"

    Pa shot Granpa a meaningful look, clearly irritated that he had taken the lead, but Ma poked him in the ribs and he relaxed.

    I picked up the green envelope and opened it, looking at Pa. Pa made a small gesture with his finger towards Granpa, and I passed the thick, high-quality paper to Granpa.

    Granpa looked at Pa, nodded, and muttered "sorry" with an apologetic look on his face.

    Marza bumped me lightly in the ribs with her elbow, dragging my attention away from the byplay between Pa and Granpa. "Spill it."

    "Fine, fine, the answer is yes. The land grant was accepted."

    "But it still has to be ratified by the Office of Land Management," Granpa said. "The Stateman signed this, but that''s not enough. It''s usually processed first by the OLM, and then stamped by the office of the Stateman."

    "Yes. When I talked to her later, she said it should be a formality. Unless someone else had already applied for the land before us."

    Granpa slowly nodded as he folded the note and handed it to Pa. After Pa had looked at it, the paper started making rounds around the table from there, everyone quickly glancing through it.

    With a sober look at me, Granpa admonished. "Be careful making plans until you know for sure."

    I acknowledged him with a nod. "Yes, sir." I looked a little nervously at Marza. "The blue note is more complex. And it impacts the land grant."

    I picked up the blue envelope, pulled out the letter, and started reading it out loud.

    As Stateman Urda and I had practiced, I started imagining myself shucking corn as I read. It was still a little hard. I could talk and shuck corn all day long, but reading and thinking about shucking corn was still a challenge.

    Allen Rickson,

    For your service, my office is prepared to offer to pay the entirety of your tuition and expenses for full-time attendance at New Charleston State University for five years, or until you complete a bachelor''s degree, whichever comes first.

    Ma gasped, put one hand over her mouth, and gripped Pa''s arm with her other.

    This scholarship is contingent upon your being available to my office as a consultant for brainstorming sessions, up to six hours per week, on non-violence-related topics. You may choose to follow any curriculum you wish, but I suggest not making a decision until you have completed your first-year studies.

    For the duration of your scholarship, you must maintain passing marks in every class you take. If you fail a single class, you will be on academic probation and lose discretionary spending money for six months. If you fail two classes, the scholarship will be revoked. You must also take one minor elective per half-year that encourages calmness and proper deportment. If you accept this offer, I shall send a letter to the Dean of Students so she will be aware of the challenges and potential I see in you. I trust her to help you find elective classes that will be both interesting, and useful. In your best interest, I require you to continue working to control your anger management issues even after I have done what I can to keep you from frightening your professors or fellow students when they anger you.

    Regards,

    Stateman Urda

    My family was looking thrilled. Marza''s family was looking very stone-faced, trying to suppress emotion. I desperately continued thinking about shucking corn.

    Marza''s hand gripped my arm, hard. "Allen. Five years? What about..." She looked down at the table and spoke with a flat tone. "You would be a fool to reject it."

    I tapped her hand with the note held in my free hand and spoke quietly. "I didn''t finish reading it all. Why don''t you read the postscripts?"

    She looked up from the table, and slowly met my gaze, looking confused. She slowly took the letter from me. A moment later, her eyes were rapidly scanning down the page.

    Any second now...

    Gently, I put my hand on her lips as she turned to face me with huge eyes.

    Shucking corn. Shucking corn.

    As she started opening her mouth to speak, I interrupted her, shaking my head slightly. "Nope. I read my part out loud. You should too."

    Marza looked up at me, dry-swallowed, looked at her parents, and started to read out loud.

    P.S.

    I was impressed with Marza Gonzalez in the brief time I was able to speak to her. Albert verified that her grades in school were far more than sufficient to allow for university attendance. In fact, according to him, she''s significantly more capable than you academically. She could have attended on a scholarship if she had applied for one. I will freely admit to cynical manipulation if so accused, as I attempt to use her to better ensure your success while simultaneously cultivating a second individual with much promise.

    Therefore, please advise Marza Gonzalez that she may accept a scholarship nearly identical to yours if she so desires, even if you decline to accept the scholarship I have offered you. I will speak to her privately after you, Marza, and your respective families have had an opportunity to discuss plans amongst yourselves.

    This time, everyone at the table reacted. A lot of held breath was released, and there was some tense laughter. Marza''s mother wiped away tears.

    Marza had stopped reading during the interruption but continued as the room grew quiet again. Her fingers were trembling and she was having a difficult time holding the paper steady, so I put my hand lightly on her lower forearm and barely squeezed, offering support.

    She started reading again.

    For so long as you two remain a couple, I will require Marza''s presence with you at the up to six hours of brainstorming sessions per week that I mentioned above. I expect that her presence will help you remain calm in meetings where people will argue loudly with you, and I will not be surprised at all if she contributes constructively. Additionally, for as long as you remain together as a couple, she must take the exact same elective classes (on the same days and times) that the Dean of Students assigns to you for your social control issues. I want you as motivated as possible to do well in those classes. Other than that, she may choose any academic course of study that she wishes. I want to make it clear that if the two of you do not remain a couple, the only requirement for her to keep her scholarship will be to maintain passing grades in all courses, with one failed class allowed, as mentioned above.

    I was a little irritated to note that Marza''s granma smiled and visibly relaxed even more during the reading of that paragraph. I couldn''t fault her. It made sense that she would be concerned. I had to look away from Marza''s family and think about shucking corn again.

    P.P.S

    You two are young. I will not tie you together with codependent academic requirements. In a more normal situation, I would not need to mention this, but I want to be very certain anyone who sees this knows you two are academically independent if you choose to go separate ways. From what I have seen, there is no need for me to be concerned about this possible eventuality. Even without seeing you two together, I''ve spoken to you both. You are tied to each other so tightly, a sailor would be confused by the knots. At the same time, going to university is a huge lifestyle change from rural life, and even strong relationships can change.

    Please note that if either of you accept the scholarship offer, it will void the land grant. That will not stop you from getting another land grant later, if you so desire. I know it would be a terrible decision for one of you to be at university, and the other trying to start a new farm.

    Both Granpa and Pa frowned at that, but Ma smiled. Predictable.

    P.P.P.S

    Finally, Allen, while I have been advised by a few people that your swine are fascinating, you will not be allowed to bring your carriage nor your entire group of swine to the university. That said, I have been advised that your breed of swine can be indoor pets, with the proper training. You may bring a single swine, but it must be housebroken. Marza, if she chooses to join you, may bring a single dog, which must also be housebroken. If they are not housebroken now, they will have to be left behind with your families until they are. The housing which my office will provide you is owned by a very unforgiving individual when it comes to animal excrement. That individual is a professional colleague and friend of mine.

    Marza dropped the paper on the table and looked down at it, rubbing her temples with both thumbs. "I can''t believe-"

    I interrupted her. "Surprise!"

    Marza''s head abruptly turned. She leaned her temple heavily into her right hand. Her left hand fell to the table on top of the paper. After staring at me for about a second with a thoughtful expression, she lifted her left hand and poked my nose with her index finger. I pretended to try and bite her finger. "That woman has only known you for two days, and you managed to read the first half of that letter without broadcasting that there was something this important in the postscripts." She scowled. "You conspired, I know it! There''s more postscript than letter. The letter didn''t mention me at all."

    I tried for an innocent look. From the laughter around the table, I failed miserably, so I smiled and admitted guilt. "Yes. Guilty as charged. The Stateman taught me to control excitement by holding an image of a repetitive, boring activity in my head. I imagined shucking corn."

    Granpa slapped his good leg and said "Ha!"

    "Clearly you haven''t mastered hiding guilt yet," Ma interjected, with a giggle.

    Jan, sitting beside Edward, laughed a little at that. She was typically reticent. I was happy to see her engaging other people a little.

    Even Edward smiled as he and Jan shifted their held hands slightly on the table.

    Marza''s pa spoke for the first time since I had told them about the idea to create an alliance of states. "That skill is a blade sharpened on both sides, Allen. Handy at times, when you forget something on the honeydo list, but I''d strongly suggest that you not do anything that would require you to practice it too often." He looked sideways at his wife. "Been there. Done that."

    I did not look at Marza''s ma to see her reaction to her husband''s statement as I replied. "Yes, sir. Marza knows me well, and everyone seems to agree she''s smarter than me. I suspect she''ll pick up my expressions no matter how good I get, especially if she knows I''m trying to get better at hiding them."

    "That''s one thing I''m fairly sure I don''t want him to be able to hide from me, Pa," Marza said. "If he gets too good at looking innocent, I''ll have to make him sleep on the couch once in a while. Just to be sure I''m properly punishing him for things I don''t know about, of course."

    I know I went beet red. For a couple minutes, I suffered quite a few jokes about needing to work on hiding embarrassment before Pa pushed back his chair and stood.

    The obvious pain on Pa''s face just from standing startled me until I realized that everyone had probably been pushing themselves hard. With the possibility of a lean winter, everyone who could be spared would be searching out forest mast. Everyone else would be closely monitoring the late planted crops for the best harvest possible. Pa couldn''t push himself hard without a great deal of pain due to his badly-healed ribs.

    I hope Ma is keeping him from pushing himself till his lungs bleed.

    And I hope he''s listening to her.

    I mentally cursed Albert for not doing a little more to help Pa. It was very possible Granpa would outlive him.

    After he was standing mostly straight, Pa spoke. "I motion that everyone but Marza and Allen adjourn to the living room and play some cards while these two put their heads together in the far corner here and have some private talk time."

    The motion was seconded by several people all at once, with smiles.

    A couple minutes later, Zeke was showing off fancy shuffling tricks on the card table for an audience of six. Jan opted out of the game so there would be even teams, and started doing some sewing work. Granpa and Marza''s granma did not join the game. They sat in chairs next to one another, in a good position to watch us, quietly talking to each other.

    Marza and I had pulled two kitchen chairs together into a corner so they were facing one another, and away from the living room. We both leaned forward, holding each other''s hands as we whispered. At first it was a repeat of what we''d said when we''d first seen each other again, without the flying hug.

    The first order of business was a very long kiss that got some chuckles from Granpa after the first few seconds, but after about thirty seconds, he threw Abe''s tiny stuffed toy bear at us. "Don''t make me get a bucket of water."

    I looked back at him, slightly resentful.

    He shook his finger at us. "Plenty of time for that later, don''t you think? Talk, don''t do vacuum experiments."

    Marza''s granma poked Granpa in the ribs. "Enough making fun of them, Simon." She reached into a box next to Granpa''s chair, and turned towards us, holding one of Molly''s stuffed horses. "It''s my turn next time."

    The two of them were clearly enjoying themselves. Marza and I both gave them both dirty looks but Granpa was right, we needed to talk. We both started talking at the same time.

    "What do-" I began.

    "-you want to do?" Marza finished for me.

    We both stared at each other for a second. I didn''t want to answer first, and neither did she. I reached over to the table for one of the little notepads we used around the farm for things too important to trust only to memory, like documenting stocks of repair supplies or shopping lists.

    I tore out a single page, folded it in half, and tore it along the crease. Then I wrote what I wanted to do on my half sheet of paper, and folded it so Marza couldn''t see it. I handed her the other half and the short pencil with it.

    "Your turn. I either wrote ''University'', or ''Farm.'' If you do the same, it will make starting the discussion easier. If we disagree, we discuss. If we agree, we don''t have to stumble around trying to figure out how to start talking about it."

    She looked at the paper, and then at me. For a moment she frowned, but that expression faded as she nodded and took the writing utensils, putting the paper on her knee and nibbling at the unsharpened end of the pencil.

    I looked away so she could write without me being able to see it, and heard her scribble something.

    "Done," she announced a couple seconds later.

    As I turned back to face her, her hand snaked out and grabbed my sheet of paper before I realized what she was doing.

    "Hey. Where''s yours?"

    She ignored me as she unfolded my paper and read it.

    I tapped her forehead. "That''s not the way it was supposed to work."

    She sat up straight and poked out her chest, pointing between her breasts, which suddenly had nearly all of my attention, and not because of the piece of paper I couldn''t see. "In a safe place."

    She reached between the objects of my attention and pulled the folded half-sheet out, slowly, clearly having fun with me. "I don''t have to be difficult. We agreed." She handed me the paper right as Molly''s stuffed horse hit her on the side of her head and rebounded onto the table.

    The cackle of overly amused old people came out of the other room. We both stared at the two of them, who were laughing and carrying on like children.

    Marza huffed and complained. "Granma, I think the stuffed toys are infecting you two with excessive childishness."

    Granpa laughed harder for a few seconds, then gasped a response. "Plenty more where those came from, you two." He reached down into the toy box and pulled out a stuffed man made with paisley cloth and real hair that was waist length on the decimeter-tall figure. I remembered that doll quite explicitly. Molly had insisted that Jan needed to make it with my hair.

    Marza''s granma reached down as well and picked up a fist-sized leather hackey ball. "Next time you get a double!"

    The two of us looked at each other and sighed theatrically, before turning away from our tormentors.

    The old people laughing noises in the other room got louder. The card game had apparently stopped. There was some muttering and laughing as people who knew what was happening told people who didn''t. The card game started back up almost immediately, with noises of encouragement directed at the elderly children.

    I looked down at the sheet of paper in my hand and unfolded it. Written on it was ''University.'' I lifted the paper to my nose. It smelled like strawberries. Marza smiled at me as I sniffed the sheet.

    One more month until we''re both sixteen and can marry.

    As I turned my head slightly, expecting stuffed animal projectiles, Granpa very conspicuously pretended like he wasn''t ready to throw Paisleyman at me.

    Marza grabbed my head with both hands and turned my head so I couldn''t see our chaperones. "I was afraid I would never see you again. You got hurt twice before there was even an official war! Please tell me that the Stateman is going to keep you away from the fighting from now on."

    "That''s the plan. She wants me around her instead of near combat, as long as I can learn to control my mouth and deportment."

    She tilted her head slightly. "And if you can''t?"

    "I can. I think. She''s threatened to send me to the Messenger''s Guild to ''run my butt off'' if I don''t behave."

    Marza''s eyes bugged out slightly as she strained to keep from laughing for a second before she broke out into laughter. "Oh, no, brer Stateman, please don''t throw me in the briar patch!"

    We both laughed together for a little while before I continued. "The Stateman knows it won''t bother me to run, Marza. She seems to want people where they can do things they are good at. If she can''t make me good at working with her and her people, she''ll have me doing something else I''m good at." I shrugged. "I can''t really argue with that."

    "No, I suppose not." She started to whisper. "How was Granpa when you last saw him?"

    "He was fine. Healthy, uninjured, and he''s captured the ear of Captain Marko. Even if he''s not an officer, he''s being consulted a lot, not just being given orders." I smiled at her, teasingly. "That reminds me. I have something to tell you that I can''t tell you until after the conflict is resolved. I promised him."

    Marza poked me in the stomach lightly as she lowered her voice and grumbled at me. "Why tell me that, when you can''t tell me now."

    I poked her on the knee. Twice. "Revenge. For the strawberry-scented paper, which came from somewhere I can''t touch now."

    "We both agreed to wait, you know. But I never agreed not to tease you."

    "No, you didn''t. Just wait, short stuff, you shall reap what you sow."

    "I''m counting on it, Allen." She met my eyes with her own for a few seconds, and neither of us spoke. Imagination was all we could do. After breaking eye contact, we held each other''s hands and leaned one against the other without saying a word, or moving at all, for several minutes.

    Eventually, we started trying to begin a new five-year plan that would leave us in a position to be able to return to farm life if we didn''t like city life. I already knew without a doubt that I was going to study something that would teach me more about genetics. Marza had always been fascinated with chemistry. Neither one of us knew exactly what sorts of degrees might best suit our educational goals, never mind our life goals. Especially considering that our options for life goals had suddenly been expanded immensely. The five-year plan had holes you could drive wagons through, but we had time.

    Wait a second.

    "The note said you could have gone to the university on a scholarship. Why didn''t you?"

    She snuggled up to my side a little. "You''re smart enough to figure that one out, I think."

    Oh.

    **

    The next morning, the Stateman arrived three hours after dawn, as she had promised. I had already been up for four hours, discussing with various people what would happen with my swine.

    Edward was up before dawn and out in the fields to make sure he had started the hardest work before Pa was able to get there. I managed to speak to him, briefly, as he left the house with a handful of cornbread biscuits. He was preoccupied and had no interest in Speedy or any of my other swine. I wasn''t upset. He was going to be inheriting the farm and had little to do with the swine. More and more, he was running the farm instead of Pa. It was very clear that family politics was going to get even more complex as Pa''s health degraded and he eventually handed over the running of the farm to Edward. Three people on the same farm, two who used to be in charge and were dominant personalities, and a third who was in charge, but tended to be stubborn and quiet. Molly and Abe were going to grow up in a scrambled, confusing hierarchy.

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    Granpa agreed to try to housebreak Speedy. First in one of the unused storage sheds, and then, if she did well, in our own house.

    Ma and Pa were not thrilled with the idea of Speedy in their house, but they knew as well as I did, that our swine could be housebroken. A lot of the swine we sold were kept indoors, at least partially.

    That wasn''t enough to convince them. I had to make the point that even if Marza and I decided not to return to farm life, I wanted to reminder where we came from. Speedy certainly wouldn''t let me forget that.

    Pa had relented with a smile. Ma, however, made it very clear that she knew exactly how I had pushed their buttons, but agreed anyhow. Abe and Molly were, of course, thrilled at the prospect of having a pet pig in the house. Granpa laughed at all of us during the whole process.

    Abe and Molly would both start tending my sounder, with Granpa''s help. I took the two of them out and introduced them to the sows up close. Abe and Molly had, of course, been around my swine before, and even helped me tend them, but never in their enclosures. Granpa would see if either of them had a knack for working with swine.

    Zeke was a little upset with me for arranging to take Speedy away from the farm and reminded me of my promises to allow him to breed her to his boars. He was right. I had promised. So we compromised. I would return Speedy to the farm every year for breeding. She would breed, farrow, and nurse her squeakers long enough that they could be safely weaned or transferred to other nursing sows. Then I could come retrieve her. That would have her on the farm for about a third of every year, covering the end of fall to the beginning of spring. Thinking about how hard it might be to take Speedy out safely for walks every day on icy city roads made me realize that this was actually a better idea for her to overwinter on the farm. Swine and ice do not mix.

    Jan, in one of very few moments of forcefulness on her part that I could remember, made it very clear that Speedy would not be living in the house after her child was born. I could understand completely, and didn''t argue at all. Granpa agreed to move Speedy to an empty shed if Jan went into labor.

    Marza came over and we sat on the front step of the house. Granpa was sitting on the front porch in a rocking chair, whittling some mortise and tenon pieces for one of the carts. He had miraculously discovered something important that he could do while watching us. I suspected that an inspection of the farm carts would find none with damaged mortise and tenon joints. Eventually, however, we''d surely need them. His work wouldn''t be wasted.

    At least he doesn''t have a box of stuffed animals today.

    I couldn''t stop myself from smiling. I have to admit, it was funny.

    We were behaving today, content to lean against one another, shoulder-to-shoulder as we sat on the bottom step of the porch.

    "What was that for?" Marza commented, apparently having seen my smile.

    "Just thinking about the stuffed animals last night."

    After a brief giggle, Marza confided in a whisper. "Granma started collecting a bag of old stuffed animals this morning."

    "That''s rich." I squeezed her hand lightly, purposefully avoiding looking at the carriage approaching up the drive. I could, and would, ignore it until it parked. My luggage had been removed from the swineherd carriage and was in a pile at my feet.

    In a cloud that smelled of horse and dust, the carriage stopped in front of our house. The driver climbed down from her seat to get a bucket and carry water from one of the livestock building''s cisterns to the small watering trough for the horses.

    Bill opened the carriage door and stepped to the ground, holding the door and offering his arm for support as Tany and the Stateman stepped down.

    The Stateman was wearing Albert''s flattened sphere as an impressive pendant around her neck, explaining how that version of Albert could move around without the rug he had used back in the officer''s tent.

    "You two are adorable, but I am in a hurry to get back to my offices. Working out of a carriage or inn requires three times as much effort and takes twice as long to get anything done, even with Albert''s help." She gestured to Marza with a crooked finger. "I need to talk to you now, as I promised in the letter."

    We stood, and kissed briefly. Then Marza followed the Stateman a few meters away and they started talking.

    Bill nudged my uninjured shoulder. "I don''t mind helping you secure your gear, but I''m not doing it by myself."

    "Sorry, Bill." I looked away from Marza and Stateman Urda as they talked, picking up one of my three bags and following Bill, who had the other two. Between the two of us, we had the bags secured to the back of the carriage in only a couple minutes. I mostly held bags in place with my left hand as Bill tied knots. My right shoulder was healing nicely, and quickly, but I still had to be moderately careful.

    When Bill and I were done tying up the luggage, the Stateman''s driver was checking harness as the horses drank. Tany was walking towards the carriage with Ma, Jan, Abe, and Molly from the house. Granpa was standing next to the watering trough on his crutches. I saw Zeke, Edward, and Pa approaching from the direction of the equipment shed.

    Marza returned to me with a huge grin on her face, giving me a big hug, her arm around my left arm, but inside my right. She seemed to be doing her best to break my ribs without hurting my right shoulder. She whispered in my ear. "University, Allen. It''s real."

    I looked at Stateman Urda suspiciously. When I talked to her, I rarely wanted to smile afterward.

    All she did was confirm the letter. Stop being suspicious of her every action.

    The Stateman smiled as she walked up. "Five minutes for goodbyes, since we seem to have harvested a full crop of Ricksons here, suddenly. Then we really need to go." She used Bill''s offered arm to enter the carriage.

    "We''ve done this a few times recently," I commented as she was sitting. "Not so many words needed this time around, I don''t think."

    There were mutters of agreement. There weren''t many words, but there were many hugs, kisses, backslaps and promises. The first and last person I interacted with was Marza, a healthy kiss each time.

    This time, there was no comment from family as the second kiss dragged on. Well, nobody except Abe, who proclaimed "Eww, they''re kissing!" before Jan managed to get a hand over his mouth.

    The Stateman coughed from inside her carriage.

    Marza and I blushed, and stepped away from each other. As we separated, I brushed her cheek lightly with my left hand. "Soon. So many things, soon."

    She trapped my hand with hers. "Soon seems so far away." After a second she rubbed my hand and spoke again. "I''m sure the Stateman needs to go. We shouldn''t take any more of her time."

    We both rubbed wetness from our cheeks as I took a step back and prepared to enter the carriage.

    The Stateman''s voice from inside spoke in an admonishing tone. "Allen, there was a promise you made, which I don''t think you were able to fulfill yet."

    I stopped, searching my memory for promises made and not delivered on.

    My mind blanked. I could think of no unfulfilled promises. "What promise?"

    "While I regret the need to have read your mail, I doubt you were able to buy hard candy for the little folk who so bravely protected the fields from crows."

    I turned quickly, embarrassed, to look at Abe and Molly. They looked at each other, nodded, and then crossed their arms and stared at me, pouting.

    From behind me, the Stateman continued to speak. "I believe Zeke said in the last letter that the count was up to seventeen for one, and fourteen for the other. I can''t remember who it was that was seventeen.

    Molly.

    Molly started to say something, but the Stateman continued talking over her. "So I got seventeen for both of them, so you could be sure to settle your debt. Abe, Molly, come here for your rewards. They come from Allen, through me. He couldn''t go to the store to buy them before he had to go with me again."

    Ma and Jan released the two and they charged the carriage, Molly arrived first. She accepted her bag and stepped back as she said "Thank you, Ma''am!"

    Abe looked up into the carriage for a second before stepping closer to receive his little bag of candies. "What kind are they?"

    There was a chuckle from the Stateman. "I don''t know, Abe. I asked for a mixture. I wanted to be sure you got some you liked. Maybe you and Molly can trade each other for your favorites?"

    "Sure!" Abe immediately turned around and ran a few steps to Molly, who was already untying the string holding the top of her bag closed.

    "Abe! You thank the Stateman right now!" Ma was on the job.

    "Sorry, Ma!" Abe turned to face the carriage and ran back. "I''m sorry, Ma''am. I mean, Thank you, Ma''am."

    The Stateman reached her hand out and patted Abe on the head. "No need to be sorry, young man. You''re welcome."

    Abe nodded and dashed back to Molly where he started to open his own bag.

    Ma and Jan moved forward to herd Abe and Molly away from the carriage and make sure they behaved with the candy.

    "One piece now, then you give me the bags," Ma demanded.

    An echoed "Aw, Ma!" came from the two.

    "If I let you eat all the candy, you will be too jittery to hit more crows with your slings. You want to and earn more candy, right?" Ma spoke, with a slightly sly tone to her voice.

    The two looked at each other suspiciously, then at Granpa, who nodded and verified Ma''s statement. "It''s true. Too much sugar can ruin your aim."

    Pa just shook his head and smiled as he stepped up behind Abe and Molly and put one hand on the shoulder of each child, gripping them very lightly. "You listen to your Ma. One candy, then I want you in the fields again after Allen is gone. You can have another after every meal if you behave. More crows, more candy."

    The two looked up at him. "Yes, Pa." Then they looked at Ma. "Sorry, Ma." Both of them talking at the same time.

    I was convinced the two practiced simultaneous speech but had never caught them doing it. I suspected Granpa encouraged it. It was possible he had intentionally started them doing it, but I doubted it. One of the two would have let it slip.

    "It''s time to go now, Allen." The Stateman said, from inside the carriage.

    Marza and I managed one more quick kiss and a shared goodbye before I entered the carriage.

    As the carriage started moving, I waved until I couldn''t see anyone from the window.

    When the waving was done, I leaned back in the padded seat opposite the Stateman, with a smile. "You forgot?"

    "I forget sometimes." She was relaxed, watching me with no expression on her face.

    "So you say. I can''t remember it happening before."

    I''m not falling for it. You have a soft spot.

    "It happens, ask Tany and Bill. That''s why I have them around, instead of less skilled people."

    Tany nodded with a little smile. "She forgot something. Twice, that I can remember."

    "It''s true. She forgets." Bill raised his eyes, looking at the roof of the carriage, obviously pretending innocence.

    I snorted and turned back to Stateman Urda. "Right. Thank you. I''m sure the family would have made it right for me, but I''m glad they didn''t have to. How will I repay you?"

    "Consider it a perk. I didn''t buy a meal for you yesterday like I would have done if you had been present." Still nothing more than a relaxed expression

    "I see." I hadn''t been fooled. "You''re a softie for little kids. I suppose everyone has their weaknesses."

    "That''s a possibility." The Stateman replied. "Perhaps you need to gather more evidence before your accusation?"

    I laughed, and she smiled back at me.

    "There is another reason why I am in a good mood today, Allen."

    "What reason?" I asked cautiously.

    Corn. Shucking corn.

    She relaxed against her seat. "Last night, I received word that Stateman Taylor convinced Stateman Dela of New Dublin to join us and threaten Second Landing''s northern border. I convinced Statemen Mario and Zan of New Ecuador and New Singapore to join us as well. Stateman Fellows of First Landing is interested, and they trade heavily with many states."

    I whistled. "No reaction from Second Landing yet?"

    She looked at me like I had said something silly. "No. They won''t know until we''ve firmed up our alliance. Stateman Taylor and Stateman Dela will lead that conversation with Stateman Kelog when the time comes."

    "I see why you''re in a good mood then."

    "That is not all. I received an angry call from Stateman Taylor this morning. Stateman Kelog sent a written document to her. As we were beginning to suspect, he offered to open his granaries to New Tokyo at standard market pricing if New Tokyo agreed to join Second Landing in a federation of states."

    "How is an angry call good?"

    She looked at me with a raised eyebrow, and then her face went blank. "I forget how young you are, at least when you''re behaving properly. Sorry. The angry call isn''t good. The written offer isn''t good. However, later today, when the allied and interested states speak again, that written offer is going to make a lot of people angry, and more likely to stand with us. The end result is good."

    "I see." I rubbed my forehead. "I wish I knew if we were doing what Albert wanted."

    "I''m glad I don''t." Statemen Urda countered me.

    I stared at her. "How can you lead a state and not want to know what Albert is doing."

    "That wasn''t what you said the first time." She waved her finger at me. "You don''t have perfect recall so you need to be more careful with your words, not less. Remember that we already know what Albert is doing. He''s slowly culling violent aggression out of humanity. I have never seen evidence to indicate otherwise."

    She looked at me for a second with her head tilted slightly. "As for knowing if we were doing what Albert wants, that information could be dangerous. I''m an aggressive leader. Put me in a position of following, and I''m going to try to lead again. It''s my nature. I prefer to think that I am likely following a path that Albert prefers, not one he has prepared."

    I thought about it for a second. The difference was significant. "Another comment then. Albert doesn''t seem upset that we''re gathering an alliance of states to threaten another state."

    "There''s a difference between gathering together to defend each other, as opposed to using one''s strength for conquest. One opposes aggression, the other exemplifies it. You, of all people, should understand it is far more acceptable to be aggressive in defense."

    I blinked, and was silent for a few seconds, thinking about my relationship with Rikard. "I concede that point. Isn''t the end result the same? A federation of states? When people start working together, and it works, it''s natural to want to work together more. Even if there was aggression to create a federation of states, does Albert really think we''d remain aggressive with one another after that?"

    "Albert has indicated on several occasions that he would not support a federation of the states. I''m confident that we aren''t going to get that far, even if we wanted to." She paused and looked out the window. "Would we want to? Agreements to trade? Yes. Agreements to assist one another? It''s beginning to look like that will happen. Agreements to suborn our own legislative prerogatives to a greater government? Not so much."

    She took a breath and held it a second before continuing. "Even though Stateman Taylor and I are friendly, I would be extremely irked if she asked a federated government for corn to be taxed more heavily, to help rice farmers. She would certainly feel the same way if a heavier tax on rice taxes was suggested by me."

    "Wasn''t the original colony government a federation?"

    "Yes. But they were barely need-based. Machines did almost all the work. Computers did most of the thinking. Humanity provided inspiration and maintenance. From what I''ve read, most of the maintenance was also done by machines. Humanity was almost unnecessary for the production of human needs. The ancients were coddled with technology in ways we can''t even imagine. What did they have to fight and argue about? They didn''t even collect taxes except on extravagant requests, and those taxes were paid in work, not fisc."

    She looked away from the window, to face me. "If we raise taxes on corn, farming families like yours can lose their farms for lack of a willing market to sell to. People will buy cheaper grains instead. Corn farmers that change crops would interfere with the other markets, leading to more instability."

    She waved her hand as I opened my mouth. "Stop. I know you rotate crops and don''t always grow the same thing, but you do almost always grow corn in at least one of your large fields, correct?"

    She was right. "Yes. So a federation of states worked for them, but it won''t for us because we''re too agriculturally-based?"

    She nodded. "Roughly seventy percent of the population works either growing, gathering, preserving, packing, or transporting food. Most of the rest of our labor force is in critical industries. Quarries, glassworks, shipbuilding, masonry take up almost all of our labor that''s not involved in feeding people. Historically, the least expensive federal governments absorbed roughly ten percent of the income of a nation. Nirvana''s current government takes about half of that. We can''t afford to double our governmental expenses, or worse, not without backsliding into barbarism."

    "Didn''t the Romans have a republic with about our same technology level, and a lot less knowledge?"

    "They did. But they were also expansionist, used slaves, most of which were captured outside their own borders, and traded with other nations outside their borders. If we formed a world republic, we can''t do the first, the second is unthinkable, and the third would be entirely internal."

    Turning my head, I watched a road marker pass. "How did the ancients do it here then? They had no outside source of wealth to draw on."

    The Stateman looked at me and smiled. "I already told you that."

    I thought about it for a few seconds before looking back at her. "Slavery. They used machines instead of slaves."

    "Exactly. They had almost no human labor needs while we have few needs that don''t require human labor." She made a throwing away motion with her right hand. "That''s why we''re modeled after a constitutional monarchy, with Albert enforcing benevolence on Statemen and helping us control graft and fraud."

    "So what was the purpose of all this then, ma''am?"

    "We''ve had several wars since Albert downgraded our technology. Every one of them has been over food. Each war has killed thousands of people directly in combat and many more people due to starvation and disease."

    "Are you saying the states have never worked together as a single body to avoid war before?"

    Stateman Urda shook her head. "As far as I know, every global food crisis led to bloodshed. There were definitely cases in the past where states refused to share their food surpluses at reasonable costs. The records are vague enough that I''m not sure if any of the prior scenarios were as clear-cut as what we have today."

    She took a deep breath and released it. "We Statemen work together to solve problems. We cooperate to ease trade. We even collaborate to create infrastructure and maintain a uniform education and language." She stared at me. "The entire population has been conditioned to avoid violence. The very idea of states working together to offer violence is completely outside our thinking. Stateman Taylor and I considered combining our militias against Second Landing because we were both going to be fighting each other anyway, because of Second Landing. Expanding to involve other states just didn''t cross our minds." She pinched her nose. "It still gives me a headache to think about it. Our primary goal is to avoid conflict, not create it. Violence-based politics just wasn''t in our toolbox as an option."

    "Hmm." I turned to the window. "And we''re creating verbal traditions now, which Albert can''t easily remove. He seems to be cooperating with you?"

    "Yes. He definitely is. He''s even suggesting books about mnemonics."

    "You are implementing a governance verbal tradition as well, after what Albert did to the militia, aren''t you?"

    She frowned at me. "I didn''t tell you that."

    I closed my eyes. "It makes sense."

    "What makes sense?"

    I opened my eyes again and looked at the roof of the carriage, my mind spinning.

    The best firearms we can make today are crude. The balance of power between states would be roughly the same as now. We''ve set a precedent for interstate cooperation to threaten bad actors. That will find its way into verbal traditions.

    Without looking at the Stateman and Albert''s remote she was wearing, I spoke slowly. "Albert, you just neutralized the danger of the idea I had, didn''t you?"

    "Not entirely. I expect you to adhere to our agreement, Allen Rickson." Albert''s voice came out of his remote, causing everyone in the carriage to jump, even me. I hadn''t expected him to answer, but it was an important question.

    "Will you de-civilize humanity if I fail to honor the agreement?"

    Silence. I stared at the remote.

    Is it too much to ask for a straight answer?

    Apparently so. Maybe something just as important, but less direct?

    "When we spoke the first time, you mentioned roughly eleven thousand possible solution states that might occur within the next five hundred years. Has the number of possible solution states in the next five hundred years gone up, or down?"

    "There are now roughly five thousand possible solution states that might occur within the next five hundred years."

    I looked at Albert''s remote around the Stateman''s neck in horror.

    I made things worse! More than twice as bad!

    Stateman Urda raised a finger in a clear sign for me to say nothing. Her voice cut through the silence. "Albert, has the overall probability of reaching a viable solution state to the problem Allen has referenced increased or decreased as the number of possible solution states dropped from eleven thousand to five thousand?"

    "Possibility of matching a solution state in the next five hundred years is now between ninety and ninety-five percent. This is approximately twice the probability I calculated before my first communication with Allen Rickson."

    The Stateman stared at me. "Why are you answering questions asked by Allen, in the presence of others, without my consent?"

    "I advised Allen Rickson that I considered him worthy of grooming for a position of leadership. I will choose how and when I groom individuals for leadership, Stateman Alice Bay Urda. In this case, the intervention was appropriate."

    Stateman Urda''s nose flared. "Understood, Albert. Please warn me next time, before you begin speaking to someone else from your remote if I am wearing it, unless there is an emergency."

    "If there is a benefit to doing so, Stateman Urda, I shall. As you know, I do monitor your health, you need not fear cardiac arrest while in office."

    "That won''t make it hurt less," she muttered under her breath before she shook her head.

    But it does make it clear who holds power, even if he rarely uses it.

    I had an idea, suddenly, and carefully phrased the question. "Albert, a question. Marza and I are considering what degrees to pursue at the university. What degrees would be best for us to acquire, if we wished to offer the greatest improvement in chances for a solution state within the next five hundred years?"

    Stateman Urda raised both eyebrows at me and nodded approvingly.

    For nearly two seconds, there was no response. Just as I was beginning to think Albert had stopped talking to us, he spoke again. "Based on the spoken and implied parameters of the request and the preferences and capabilities of the individuals, Allen Rickson should pursue a degree in marine biology. Marza Gonzalez should pursue a degree in metallurgy."

    That works. And it even sounds interesting.

    Wait. He knows what Marza''s preferences are?

    I was certain he wouldn''t answer a question about Marza, and didn''t want to draw the Stateman''s attention to her. After a few seconds, I replied. "Thank you, Albert."

    After several seconds, there was no reply.

    Stateman Urda looked at me. "Solution state for what?"

    "Albert''s goal for humanity." I answered quietly.

    "Oh. I thought so. Intriguing. Ninety to ninety-five percent chance in the next five hundred years." She sighed. "Time to start a five hundred year plan." The Stateman reached into the bag next to her left thigh on the seat. Her hand emerged with a lap desk, a thick notebook, and a pencil. She started scribbling with gestures far larger than writing movements, just how Zeke had described it.

    Five hundred year plan? I stared at the Stateman for at least a minute before I turned away and watched the side of the road through the window.

    A five-year plan is bad enough. How do you even start to think about a five hundred year plan?

    The next several hours in the carriage were quiet. Tany and Bill were reading from a large bag of broadsheets with the names of cities from around the world. Stateman Urda was alternating between nibbling the end of her pencil and scribbling.

    I continued staring out the window and tried to figure out ways to improve the rough five-year plan Marza and I had started working on. This included explaining to her how Albert had mentioned metallurgy as a choice for her.

    A thought suddenly struck me out of the blue as I remembered an encounter at the beach, years ago during a full-day school trip to the ocean.

    How would Speedy and a dolphin react to one another in shallow water?

    The Stateman glowered at me over her notebook as I broke out laughing.

    Her expression made me laugh even harder.

    I spent the rest of the day exiled from the inside of the carriage, sitting next to the driver.

    It was worth it.