Part 12 (1/2)
The gate was open, and inside were two longhouses and several smaller huts, built of logs and skins. A battlement ran around the inside of the outer wall. At the parapet at two-meter intervals leaned pikes with stone heads. What were these people fortified against?
The courtyard was empty except for a couple of women tending a cooking fire, slowly turning a spit. The quartered beast was nothing Prime recognized, too large for the hindquarters of a cow. The women eyed him dully.
Prime knocked on the rough wooden door of the first long-house.
”Come in!” someone yelled.
Prime entered and found himself in a long room of bunk beds, rough-hewn from logs. The room smelled of sap and fresh wood. Two young men leaned against one bunk, talking.
”Who are you?”
”John. The guard at the gate sent me here.”
”Jesus! Another one, and a kid,” the first said. ”You don't know metallurgy, do you, kid?”
”Uh, no.”
”Oh, well. I'm Thomas; this is Oscar. I'm captain and he's lieutenant of this bunk.” Thomas was tall and blond, like the quarterback of a football team. Oscar was shorter, with a shaved head.
Oscar said, ”What have you got on you? Hand it over.”
Prime backed away.
”Leave him alone,” Thomas said. ”They never drop anybody off with anything of value.” To Prime he said, ”Come on. We were just about ready to walk out to the mine. My crew is working a coal seam today, and they're probably loafing.”
Thomas led him out the back of the bunkhouse and then through a smaller gate in the fort wall. This one was there for convenience, it seemed, as there was no guard. It was wide open, though it could have been closed with a wooden latch. They grabbed pikes as they pa.s.sed through the gate. Prime grabbed one too.
”What universe are you from?” Thomas asked.
”Seven-four-three-three,” Prime said.
”Yeah? I don't think we've got anyone from there. What did they nab you for? Hacking? Propagandizing?”
”I don't know.”
Oscar looked at him sharply. ”A dark grab. What makes you so special?”
”Nothing,” Prime said.
”Yeah,” said Oscar. ”Nothing special.”
They walked over a small hill and came to a river that cut through a shallow valley. Workers, standing knee-deep, were panning the water. Others were hacking at a seam of coal they had opened on the hillside, already half-exposed by the river. There were a dozen guards watching up- and downstream. A couple were positioned on the hills.
Thomas went to speak with a few of the workers, leaving Oscar with Prime.
”Gold for conductors. Coal for our steam engine,” Oscar said. ”We're thinking about a trip to the old Fort Pitt area to mine some iron.”
Thomas came back to them holding a small nugget of gold. ”A few meters of wire, at least,” he said.
He led them up the far hill of the valley. Prime struggled to understand what they were doing: reconstructing a technological world in a primitive earth. Were they colonists? Were they running from something? Hiding here? They must have their own devices, maybe ones that worked right.
Oscar said, ”We think we can build a transporter in about a hundred years. You'll still be a young man, and if you have any children after the sterilization wears off, your children might get back home.”
Prime stopped. These people were from high-tech worlds. The primitive living wasn't a choice. These people were stranded, just like him.
”You people don't have a device? A transporter of your own?” he asked.
Thomas barked a laugh. ”Of course they wouldn't let us have a device.”
”But I have one,” Prime said, then cut himself off. It was too late. Thomas and Oscar turned on him.
”You f.u.c.king liar,” Oscar said.
”Yeah,” Prime said. ”Yeah. I was just kidding.” His hand went inside his s.h.i.+rt, toggling the b.u.t.ton for the next universe. He was on natural land, no man-made depressions. Prime would be all right if he transferred out here.
”What you got there?” Thomas said. Oscar grabbed him by the arm.
”Nothing!” Prime cried. He couldn't reach the lever, his arm caught in Thomas' viselike grip. Prime tried with his other hand, but Oscar batted it away.
Thomas nodded at Oscar, who pulled up Prime's coat and s.h.i.+rt.
They stared at the device strapped to Prime's chest, their faces stunned.
Oscar said, ”Jesus, he has a portable.”
”Where did you get that?”
”You stupid kid! What the f.u.c.k are you doing with a portable?” Oscar yelled, reaching under Prime's s.h.i.+rt for the device.
Prime kicked, connected with something, and rolled away.
Thomas' grip found Prime's shoulder and pulled him back like he was a sock puppet.
He pressed a knee against Prime's throat. He pulled a knife.
”Do you believe this?” he asked Oscar.
”f.u.c.k it, no.”
The knife cut at the straps holding the device. Prime flinched. He figured the next slice would open his belly.
Thomas stood with the device, leaving Prime to gasp and hold his throat.
Thomas and Oscar held the device between them, marveling, ignoring Prime as they had before.