@ Joe
Glad to see that your up. Have a few cookies and a glass of cold milk. <Grin>
I just thought I'd kick open the door and let some day light into the old tavern. It has been over a year since there were any posts, such a waste not having some laughs with a cool one.
As for the double post, what better way is there to get some reaction. Glad you merged them.
Joe did you see the report of the attack by the natives, on that Free trader planet, out past the United Realms?
If you didn't, I have a brief account by the young Keeper stationed there. Enjoy.
Attack
A Planet RR453 Short tale
by
William Robert Smith
11/24/08 01:15:27 AM
The clash of a bone cracker meeting a heavy shield, rings out in the courtyard. Swords screech with a grunt and curse. An arrow whispers and thuds into a soft target. A man whimpers holding his entrails in place. A split helm is kicked aside, on the flags of the rampart.
An arch of fire ends on the Old Keeps roof. Archers return the arrows. A ball rips his side, blood soaks the padded jerkin. Slip the war ax to the side, slash back, nicking an arm. Step in, jamming the shield under the chin. Ram the cross guard into his face. Slash at the throat as he falls back.
Turn on the next one, point low, under the guard, twisting the blade as you pull it free. Arm numb, blood dripping. Us your shield, push him off the parapet. The boss smashes an other face. It screams falling back of the ladder. A pole pushes the ladder back off the wall, more screams are heard.
Your arm is bound as it begins to hurt. Swords heavy now, hard to swing. Cover behind the shield, make them come to you. Hilt low, slip the point up into them, shield stops the ax. Tug the sword free, point in a ducking face.
Knees crumple, head hurts. Feet trip on you, dagger finds the back of a dirty knee. Spears and clubs beat them back, poles keep more ladders from the wall. A mans face is pulped by a ball. The last few scamper down a ladder before its toppled clear.
Arrows rain down on the attackers as they retreat. The medics start to treat the wounded, friend and foe, it is the way of the medics. One is muttering about the code, not letting us use the throwers. “The native slingers were good as ours.” An other agrees.
Hands have him sitting up, ring mail and jerkin are removed. “Well he be all right.” A deep voice asks. “Don't look like he is hurt real bad.” He is told. “Good he fought well.” Heavy steps walk away.
“He don't say much, does he?” The first says. “Just patch him up! There are others that need you.” “Right.” A needle stings his arm. He feels stitches being taken in his arm. He grunts as the slingers ball is probed for. He is checked and head bandaged, tight. “That'll hold his brains in.” One jokes. “Put a bandage on his side, I'll see to the next.”
“”You just sit here and rest a bit. Someone will see to you latter.” His benefactor joins the medic by a wounded native. A curse shows that the native is still awake. A belt knife is thrown to the side.
His dagger and sword are placed next to him. The wounded native is sown up and gets put by him to look after. His good shield is ten feet away, with an ax splitting the heavy boss. The native is glaring at him, trying to free his hands. “None of that now.” A rough voice says. A spear is poked at the native.
Hours latter the wounded are collected and taken down into the large hall. The worst off are up on cots, the rest get the floor. It seems like half the company are hurt. A senior trader with a bandaged head is checking a long arm. Two others have long arms.
“They will break the code?” He croaks.
“Easy there. Na! Just a demonstration for the natives.” A young factor says.
“What are they doing? Have to stop them!” He gasps.
“Just keep still, or you'll open up your side.”
“Stop them!”
“They'll not hurt anyone, a prize mount or two and the a few fires is what I hear.”
“They that close?”
“The keep is higher than the ridges.”
“Then there more than a mile away.”
“If they can see it, they'll hit it and scare the dirty britches off them. Have a few sips of this coffee and stay awake.” He turns to the man next to him and makes sure he is awake. He sees he has a head injury too. “Got to keep you sore heads awake for now.”
Rustle of a stiff skirt and a whiff of perfume, lets him know the senior trader's wife has gone by. The smell of hot food makes his mouth water. A few spoonfuls of soup make him feel better. He is allowed to sleep then.
He wakes the next mid morning with the fighting all over. The natives have broke camp and were moving family and herds off to the horizon. It would be days till he could write a report. A bowl of hot stew puts him to sleep.
11/25/08 11:40:59 PM
A full report by the senior trader is waiting for him. It detailed, with videos, the use of the thrower demonstration to the natives. Some of the natives stock had been killed at extreme range. Fires in some of the native camps were targeted, spread hot coals and burning wood about.
The videos showed the natives breaking camp and moving off in the night. Dust clouds near the horizon, marked the location of the native tribes on the move. This was included in the first part of the traders report.
The next section was harder to read,. It list the dead and wounded of both the the traders and the native. It presupposed that all the captured natives would be released, once the were well enough to travel back to their tribes. The lost supplies and crops were noted.
The last section of their report listed the reasons why the throwers were used to scare of the native tribes. It ended stating the small use of the throwers had saved both trader and native lives, by forcing the natives to break off the attack on the trader compound.
His head hurt as he reread the report, making notes for his own report. Granted that the natives broke off the first attack that had gained the walls. The counted native dead did not include those that were carried off or died of wounds latter. The videos did show that none of the natives were targets for the demonstration that got them to move off.
“So junior hows the head?”
“Hurts!”
“Don't try to do too much yet, Just eat and rest. Give yourself some time to heal.” The medic checked him some more, loosing the bandage on his head. “You took a nasty knock to the head. Your helm will need to be straightened.”
“Humph!”
“Take care of it. It saved your life, not your hard head.” He leaves as hot stew was given to him.
The stew is soon a memory with the cup of coffee. “Put something in the coffee.” He mumbles. The cup is rescued before he is tucked in.
Morning sees him up on his feet, being taken to his chamber in the keep. The videos and papers were all ready on his desk. A firm word has him in bed. He is very tired now and slips into sleep. A medic looks in on him, checking his wounds. More sleep.
The next few days pass with him eating and sleeping. He is kept sedated by the medics. The medics clean out his side again. Flushing it out, brings some cloth fibers from the wound. Free flowing blood is stopped and he is sown up again.
The medics break his fever the next day letting him sleep on. He knows he was fed the next week by someone, who also washed him. The drugs made it a blur. He dreams of how he arrived here at his first posting. He was struggling with large sheets of heavy paper, on which he was writing his report. A ice cold cloth gets him to sleep.
Three weeks latter he tottered out to the facilities. One of the old veterans helped him. He had a fresh scar across his forehead, you could still see where the stitches were pulled.
“He slashed me with a spear, but I was past the point and gutted him. Had trouble seeing for a few minutes, till I tie it up.” He smiled at me.
“You had time?”
“A few of the boys covered me while I did it. You were holding the wall till we came.”
“I didn't do much.”
“You held them, till the ladders were pushed off.”
“There were others too.”
“You kept them off the stairs to the court yard. Just doing that let the gates be closed, again.”
“I did nothing but fight to stay alive.”
“We all were. It was close to loosing there for a few minutes. The women did a lot to with their bows. Cleared of the natives at the gate.”
“Didn't see any of that.”
“You were too busy, I saw some of it from the stairs.”
“You really think we would've been over run?"
“It was real close with the gates open.”
“Could you write it out for me what you saw and heard latter. It will help with my report.”
“The senior trader had us all write up what happened in our own words.”
“Might keep him from a reprimand and fines.”
“Yep! It could cost him his trade papers, using the throwers.”
“Could we have repelled an other attack?” He asks the veteran tradesman.
“Hard to say for sure. A fair number were wounded or dead. Maybe one more but not a third. We would have been forced back into the keep, to starve.”
“That is a big help. I should work on the report. “
“None of that for now. I have been told to get you out in the sun latter. Its will be warmer this afternoon.”
"The report will take a long time to write.”
“Keep it short and simple, lad. The less you write down, the less they can argue about. Let our statements do the explaining.”
“Is there video of the attack?”
“Might be some on the security scans. The back office was trashed and set afire. The day room was taken first.” He looks at the floor with a curse muttered. “Where were you at the start?”
“On the wall looking at the native camps.”
“How many were there?”
“Never thought to count any. I'll have to think about that.”
“See your not ready to write the report yet. Take a nap now, I'll be back latter.”
He is helped to lay down again. His side is tight, he could feel the pull on the stitches. He lay there, trying to picture the native camps he had looked at. Sleep found him again, but not from any drugs.
He was out on the wall, that afternoon. A chair and over turned bucket, for a foot stool made it comfortable in the sun. The blanket was just enough to keep him warm. By stretching his neck, he could see a couple of the old camp sights. He wanted some paper to make notes. He would have to remember what he was thinking.
Latter he was allowed to eat with some of the other lads. A few still sported bandages or healing scars. After wards, the days were more normal. He was allowed to stroll on the walls. Afternoons were for taking in more of the sun.
Several versions of the report were torn up, each shorter than the others. He settled on a brief two page report, having decide that a short report was better. The pile statements was inches thick. He would let them answer what had happened.
It took a morning to make copies of everything. Now it was wait for a ship to call. The beacon had been tripped to call any ships coming close. Word had spread that he had to make the report. A few were shying away from him now. The old veteran stayed close by. He was still looking after a few of the those still recovering.
There were fewer chairs on the walls though. Most could walk and take in the warm sun. All the natives were up and moving around now. The medics tending them say that they were most likely human stock, even thou they had a different stature, being so tall and having thicker chests. Pigmentation did very across so many different planets that man had settled.
A few days latter he watched as the natives were sent on their way. Packs of food and bundles of their weapons waited for them out side of the compound. A few of the native stock had been staked out for them. Several of them were helped up, to ride. The packs were tied onto a few.
They band moved out as the weapons were sorted out. A few looked back at the compound as if they feared an attack. They were lost from sight by the end of the day.
Gleaners were out under guard, to gather what they could. The native camp sites were also picked up. Little was found of value, artifacts or food. Just some cast off weapons. The days would drag by till a call came. The speedsters were risked to make sweeps of the surrounding country, almost daily.
The compound was under siege like conditions. Food was rationed now, no more open mess. None of the fields would produce a fall harvest. They were lucky to gather some of the crops from the winter fields.
The next weeks saw the winter fields turned and planted. Hopefully they would produce next year. A few were cursing the restrictions placed on them by the code. The speedsters were just allowed because the natives used maned kites and gliders to spot game and enemies.
The winter snows restricted the traders to the compound. No one wanted to be caught out in one of the planets blizzards that lasted for weeks on end. The snows would protect the winter crops from the sever cold latter at the end of the winter season.
The senior trader made sure a good watch was kept, even in the coldest weather. Fuel gathers, went out in the breaks in the weather. It was hard to know how much would be needed in a winter season. There was a limit to what could be gathered or stored.
11/26/08 01:39:36 AM
A ship, HMS AM Irish Rose finally called from orbit. It had to wait out a winter blizzard before landing. The senior trader greeted the captain, arranging to trade for what extra food they had. Sye made sure the report would get to the free traders. The senior trader had his own report to send.
The food from the Irish Rose helped them winter better. Spring would be warm with plenty of work planting. Years latter a small commission would come to check on their report of the thrower use. Sye was long gone to the second posting of his career as a Keeper.
Trading on early Iron Age planets was risking with the restrictions placed on the traders. The Keepers saw to it that they were followed.
Well Joe that is just a short tale, one of many. Hope you had a cool one while you read it.
To change the subject, The only reason I still use Windows XP Pro, is that I don't have enough ram to run it in a virtual box with Ubuntu. So go figure. I just use three programs for windows, Wordweb, CE and Wallpaper Master, for inspiration. Love that WordWeb!
Off to get a fresh cup. be seeing ya. bdpf
