“Hey, the big day, right?” he said as they approached, sparing a nod of greeting for Crow. “You’re on second watch, and your route will be through the camp rather than the work sites. Myall reckoned it would be better for you to check that out tonight, as that’s when most of the sabotage has occurred anyway. He figures it’s better for you to get a night view from the start—besides which, if you’re seen today it might stir some action.”
“Seems a reasonable course of action,” Ryan mused. “So when do we head off?”
” ‘Bout two hours,” McVie replied, “so I guess you’ve got plenty of time to get your blasters stripped and ready.”
Ryan nodded. “So who’s giving us the lowdown on the camp as we patrol?”
“I am,” Crow said before McVie had a chance to reply. “I know all of these peoples. I traveled a lot before coming to work for Baron Silas, and they all know of me. I can fill you in on any background you need.”
“And report back on us to the baron, right?” Ryan added.
Crow shrugged. “I’d be a fool to deny that,” he said simply.
Ryan nodded and led his people away from the paddock and back to the tent they had made their base in the sec camp. Crow stayed with McVie, knowing that it was right to give them space.
When they were in the tent, and had begun to clean and check their blasters—a task that was made easy by J.B.’s continuing insistence on blaster maintenance that made each clean and check an almost perfunctory matter—the Armorer asked Ryan, “Do you think we can trust Crow?”
“Everything we say and do will go back to the baron. But other than that, I think he’ll be straight with us. Hell, he has been so far. He didn’t have to tell us he would report it all back.”
“Open man,” Jak commented as he checked his .357 Magnum Colt Python, chambering a round. “No bullshit.”
“Yeah, I don’t get a bad feeling about him,” Krysty said. “He’s just got his job to do and a line to walk. Same as all of us to different degrees, right?”
They finished checking their weapons, and J.B. went through his stock of grens and plas-ex. “Won’t need these in the camp,” he commented. “Far too closed in to risk it. More likely to chill ourselves than anyone else. But mebbe later, when we get to the work sites.”
Ryan checked his wrist chron. “Time to go. Let’s stay hard out there, and triple red for everything.”
THEY MOUNTED their horses and rode from the sec camp across the short distance to the outskirts of the workers’ camp, passing the incoming patrol on the way. They had nothing to report apart from the usual complaints and insults among the different ville tribes. There had been no fighting and no sign of any real trouble.
“Looks like you may get broken in easy,” Crow commented as they rode on, “which’ll at least give you a chance to learn about these people before you have to start chilling them.”
None of the companions were sure if the deadpan Native American was joking, and refrained from comment.
The first nest of huts and tents belonged to the people of Haigh, whose baron was John the Gaunt. A severe name for a severe baron, and that was reflected in the dour and downbeat appearance of their encampment. The material that comprised the tents was of dull, stained colors, and the women and children were quiet, going about their chores and play with a deadened demeanor, as though just going through the motions. They hardly looked up as the patrol passed through.
“Can’t see these being much trouble,” Mildred said. “What are the men like?”
“Like this,” Crow replied. “They work hard and keep themselves to themselves. Haigh’s not a rich ville, and they’ve had to work their land hard and drive hard bargains based on work rather than jack. They like to keep their energy for work, because that’s all they had to keep them alive for a long time. The road and the well will bring them more than they could ever dream, but John the Gaunt won’t let them get soft on it. I’d figure they were part of some old religion before skydark, and that harshness has stayed with them. They’re the last ones I’d bet on to be sabotaging the works. One thing, though—don’t be fooled by how quiet and peaceful they seem. You cross these people, and they’re the hardest fighters you’ll ever come across. Even the bastards from Mandrake avoid them, and they’ll fight anyone.”