Princess Rescue Inc (84 page)

“Yes
my dear? Oh, sorry,” he said smiling politely.

“Never
mind,” she said shrugging it off. “I'll make sure the steward gives you the
bill,” she said.

He
snorted. He came over and took her into his arms and kissed her briefly. “I'll
see you tonight?” he asked with just a slight hint of anticipation in his
voice.

She
blushed. That was another downside of men and their war. “Lah, my good sir, You
wouldn't deflower a maiden would you?”

“Maiden
is it?” he rumbled a laugh, holding her. “Maiden,” he said, eyes twinkling at
her. She smiled up at him. He smiled back. “I believe that term went out the
window long ago my dear.”

“And
what would you call me?” she asked, hands on her hips.

He
hugged her tighter, “why wife and lover my dear. Let there be no other.”

“Better
not,” she growled, hands going around his waist once more. He chuckled softly
as she pulled his head down for a kiss.

<==={}------------>

Ryans
tried not to wince as the two sides clashed on the field. The farmer who had
owned the field was none too pleased at losing it this year or at least for the
foreseeable future. Fortunately the bag of coins he had been paid had been
enough to sweeten him to a grudging respect. At least the rain was holding off
here so far, instead choosing to dump itself onto the battlefield. From the
reports he'd got from Perry it was a good thing, it had stopped Art’ur's full
out attack on the castle. The muck and mud would take days to dry, days of
precious time for them to finish preparing. It was almost time. Almost.

“It's
weird, seeing all the different armors,” Ryans said watching the two groups.
This was their largest training exercise to date, two cohorts of five hundred
men and women on each side.

Most
of the platoons were a hodge podge of armors. The regulars, veterans, and mercs
wore roman centurion style armor, or boiled leather. A few of the knights
working out on the jousting run wore similar armors.

This
was the main army he told himself, the body of the Imperium army. Hopefully
they would be able to hold off the Duluth if they got under the guns and closed
into melee range.

“For
me it's the shields,” Max said watching the two groups clash. Ryans grunted.
Max pointed to a few of the knights. “See they got them figure eight ones, with
the scoops on the sides so they can lay them across their legs or some such.”

Ryans
nodded. It was a form of Greek shield he thought. “Right.”

“Insane.
Riding a six legged dinosaur right out of a damn cheap novel...” Max shook his
head. “Least the articulation on some of them are up to spec. I'd hate to be in
one of those sweat boxes though.” He pointed to a group of pike men looking a
lot like old Swiss royal guards. Each had a four meter long pole arm. They each
had a massive shiny breast plate covering garish colored thick outfits colored
like a Terran clown.

Some
of the men were drinking water by the bucket full. Ryans shook his head. He
couldn't blame them in this heat. “Gotta do something about that,” he muttered.
He looked over to a knot of lords under a gaily covered awning. “Though some
could do with losing the weight,” he growled watching Duke Rojer talking with
the fat Dominus Pettigrew as a servant fanned them.

Max
grunted. “Yeah think? They won’t make it to the battlefield like that. Hell one
good charge and they'll keel over and pole vault over the enemy,” Max growled.

“We're
trying to get things organized, trying to get them sorted out, but it's slow
going,” Ryans admitted. He'd had a hand in the army plans for some time.
General Pendragon's insistence on using the old armor and forms was a problem.
The veterans formed up easily, they knew what to do and blew the rust off
handily. But the old ways were not what was going to win this battle.

“Yeah
well, better step it up,” Max said sighing as he got up. He winced as a group
of riflemen fired. Some of the men were looking over that way. A few had curled
lips. They weren't happy about the new weapons. Some were jealous; some doubted
their effectiveness even after they'd seen them in demonstrations.

“Stupid,
they ain't got a clue that they're outclassed and out gunned. That armor's just
a bright shiny target,” Max said shaking his head. Which was true, Ryans
thought. Many of the knights had left their outer identifying tunics off in the
sweltering heat.

“We're
getting a lot of resistance to change. I'll see if we can do another
demonstration for the newly arrived knights and lords. Get someone to set up a
couple of armors again and fire a couple of rounds off with them watching.”

Max
turned and smiled. “Good idea.” He waved a meaty hand and walked off.

“That
Max?” Perry's voice said from behind him. He turned nodded and then turned back
to the battlefield.

“Ah
yup.”

“What's
his beef?” Perry asked. He took a deep sniff. “God I love the smell of cordite
in the morning.”

“It's
mid afternoon,” Ryans said snorting. “Besides it's gunpowder.” He turned.
“Well, mostly gunpowder,” he said. Two thirds of the riflemen had flintlock
muskets. The other third had Springfields. They had yet to do an artillery
test. He was looking forward to seeing how well the mortars would perform.

According
to Max each mortar could be fired a total of ten times. That was it, ten. It sucked.
After that they'd have to either swap the tube or the base plate. If they could
get more tungsten then the firing rate would go up.

Perry
looked up to the sky, shading his hand then down to his watch and snorted. “So
it is.” He shook his head. “You still didn't...”

Ryans
shook his head. “He's just jawing about the armors. We're getting a lot of
resistance from some of the aligned groups about changing to more modern
weapons. But you know that.”

“Yeah,”
Perry snorted. “I'm the one that told you remember?” He waved his hand to a
group of men kneeling as boys strapped bronze armor on them. One had a fancy
breast plate, leather skirt, and a pair of grieves. He was actually looking
forward to the artillery barrage later in the evening. That should loosen a few
people up.

“What
the hell do they think this is the Punic wars? God give me a break. It's like
they aren't thinking.” He shook his head. “They're stuck in the past.”

“Yeah,”
Ryans grunted, watching another group of what looked like Indians smashing gourds
with war clubs. “Diverse group, I'll give them that.”

“Gah.
It's like herding cats!” Perry said, throwing his hands up. They came down to
slap his thighs. “I tried to talk to one group; they said it's tradition that
they wear crap like that. Tradition, what's good enough for my father and
grandfather... god!” He shook his head.

Ryans
smiled slightly. “Yup. Max is getting the same thing. Those that didn't take
care of their father's armor want replacements. Or parts for them. And here we
are trying to modernize them. Or at least get them up to the eighteenth
century,” Ryans replied. He lifted the binoculars from his chest and looked
out.

“Nineteenth,
early twentieth if I can help it. We're working on more 1903 Springfield rifles
for the main arms right now,” Max said coming back. “I've got the muskets
phasing out and just about all the artisans working on them now. Right now only
the snipers have them.”

“Oh.
Damn. Good,” Ryans nodded. Max wandered off again, cussing at something or
someone.

“Bitch
to make. Max said he got a rifle bench and a copying lathe out of your database
files. Took him a week to get a prototype up and running,” Perry said.

“Copying
lathe?” Ryans asked, turning to Perry. He'd heard about it but wasn't sure why
it was needed. No wait, to bore out the barrel? But wasn't that a rifling
bench?

Perry
smirked. “I saw it. It's belt driven. One side has the master the other has the
copy. It's got an armature with a pointer on one end, and a cutting head on the
copy side. The pointer traces the master as it spins and the cutting head
shaves it down to match. He's still working the kinks out for one that can do
ten at a time though.”

“Sounds
good,” Ryans nodded.

“Yeah,
but we're still stuck with this bunch for this battle. I gotta admit the bowman
aren't half bad, even if they aren't up to our standards,” Perry said. He
indicated the rows of men hunkered behind wooden shields. Every few minutes
they would rise to pepper a designated target with arrows. Ryans grunted.

Most
of their branch of the army were armed with either muskets or bows right now.
They had just over four thousand conscripts under their command in a legion and
another five hundred men and women for support and auxiliaries. Another seven
hundred were designated as the Silent Knights, the native equivalent of
rangers.

“I'd
say the hardest thing we're going though is C&C,” Perry finally said. He
darted a questioning look to Ryans.

“Command
and Control?” Ryans asked as Perry opened his mouth. 

“Yeah.
More on us than them, we Terrans aren't used to this,” Perry admitted. He waved
to the flag bearers and teenagers holding trumpets, drums, and bag pipes.
Pennants fluttered in the light breeze. His jaw worked at the sight of the
kids.

“We'll
keep them out of the thick of things Perry,” Ryans said softly. He was actually
planning on outfitting the captains and senior officers with radios even if he
had to beg, borrow, or steal them from the other Terrans to do it. “Besides,
I've got an idea for that.”

“Right.
Anyway...” Perry grimaced and looked away. He took a moment then cleared his
throat. “Anyway. As I was saying... we've got a lot to adapt. It's like turning
back the clock, and getting our own people on the same page while we're still
writing it isn't without its own problems.”

“We'll
get over it, even if we've got to use interpreters,” Ryans said, glancing
toward the communicators and the general and then back to the mock battle.
“After all the general just passes the order to an aide to pass on. It's a lot
of filtering that can lead to problems but if it works for them...” he
shrugged. “I'm more worried about word getting back to Duluth.” He indicated
the growing crowds of spectators along the edges of the field and on nearby
hills and rooftops.

Perry
looked around and grimaced. “You'd think they'd have something better to do, I
thought they had to work from sun up to sundown to make ends meet?”

“Everyone
has to take a break. Besides, this is new and exciting,” Ryans sighed shaking
his head. “Plus their friends and family are out here. Brothers, and sons too.
I heard they did it right up to the civil war if you believe it.”

“Oh
I do. I read about it to,” Perry turned a dark look on the crowd thinking about
what a stray shot would do, then winced. “You're right though, if I was Duluth
I'd send spies out to find out what the capital was doing and when they would
march.”

Ryans
nodded. “So would I. We're going to have to wrap this up pretty soon anyway.
We're keeping the rifles under wraps for the most part.” He had wanted to test
the bazooka Max had made but with the spectators... no it was best to keep that
under wraps.

The
bazooka rocket was a recent addition to their inventory. It was crude, a
gunpowder rocket with a nitroglycerin tipped warhead. To fire it the three man
rocket crew used a steel tube that weighted sixty pounds without the required
steel shield. The gunner just aimed, another man lit the fuse and cleared the
back blast. Like the mortar it took several people to carry the blasted thing even
in pieces. Each was also only good for a few shots before they had to worry
about cracks and things blowing up in their faces.

“Well,
we've got a couple more clear days for working up exercises to get the kinks
out then we've got to hit the road,” Perry said wincing as a group missed a
signal and turned in the opposite direction to what it was supposed to.

“I
bet the Gunny and master Sergeant are grinding their teeth into splinters,”
Ryans said.

“No
doubt and storing it all up for a royal chew out later,” Perry snorted.

“Remind
me to miss it,” Ryans replied snorting.

“Yeah
well getting back to the point, we can't delay much longer. Duluth is getting
antsy since he's blown through most of his stores and the surrounding
countryside. If he breaks out looking for new hunting grounds or his army
breaks up into smaller raider groups, we're going to have fun chasing them over
hill and dale.”

Ryans
nodded. “Defeat in detail.”

“Yeah
well, it still takes a hell of a lot of time and effort. Easier to smash them
when they are all concentrated. Give them enough shock and awe and they will
cut and run or fold en mass.”

A
sudden thunderous roar made the entire mock battle stop. A distant field
erupted in a welter of dirt ten meters from a three meter tall white bull’s eye.
They turned to see an artillery group wave. They turned back to the mock
battlefield see the men looking up at the smoking field piece and the distant
crater in surprise. Dust and debris were still in the air marking where the
round had landed. Some of the animals had bucked and were being chased around
the battlefield. A few of the
branacks
had collapsed in twitching fits.
Fortunately the predators were muzzled and their clawed hands bagged to prevent
damage from their rampage.