“And Salvation?” Ryan queried.
Crow allowed himself a smile. “The enemy inside? Mebbe, but there’s too much for everyone to lose. These last three villes, though… They don’t look ‘different,’ so they could blend in easy. And they’ve all got reason to hate the other villes, and each other.”
“Yeah?” Ryan stopped his horse. “Fill us in some background before we look them over.”
Crow also stopped, and when the horses had clustered, he said, “Carter, Baker and Hush are basically parts of the same old predark stock. They have common stories relating to oil jack from before the nukecaust. Like a lot of areas that were old well places, they’re very white, which means they hate the villes that aren’t, and even Mandrake they hate because of it’s predark allegiances. They’re also pissed because they aren’t rich. And because Salvation will be. Never mind that their barons have done this to get a share of the jack. They don’t think like that. And they’re close to those they hate, and the place that represents their being under the hammer to Salvation. So if they get some spirit, or some jolt…” He shrugged.
Ryan nodded. “That’s worth bearing in mind.” And he indicated that Crow should lead them on.
Considering the differences they had seen between the other villes and their sectors of the camp, the differences between the last three sectors were remarkable for their lack: the huts, shacks and tents were constructed in a similar manner, and the materials used betrayed a home ville that was scraping around for trade and salvageable merchandise. The people seemed to be from the same stock, and the way in which they dressed and colored their environment with their clothes and the decorations in their camp sector was almost exactly the same. As was their attitude of sullen and mute hostility to the companions and Crow. The burble of conversation and activity died to silence as they passed, and they were watched closely, even though no one spoke directly to them.
It was an uncomfortable ride, the focus of hostility seeming to be Crow and Mildred.
“That was fun,” Mildred said sardonically when they emerged from the camp and made their way back to the sec camp.
“Wasn’t it,” Crow replied. “So what do you reckon?”
“Mebbe this isn’t going to be as easy as Baron Silas hopes,” Ryan said.
Crow shook his head. “He won’t want to hear that.”
“I don’t give a shit what he wants to hear,” Ryan answered. “The fact is that the camp covers a lot of ground, and so does the work site. There’s only a dozen sec, and only seven of us. And a shit load of possible trouble. We may be able to stop attacks, but I figure it’d be better to get to the root of it. And we’ve got a lot of options to cover with no time to do it.”
“So?” Crow said softly.
“So Baron Silas has to decide whether he wants us to get to the bottom of this or just blast everyone. I know which I’d rather do, and which is better for us,” the one-eyed man stated, dismounting his steed. “And it’s not acting like a triple stupe and blasting your workforce out of existence. So tell Baron Silas he may get results, but not necessarily the ones he wants.”
Chapter Fourteen
Trouble came looking for the companions with a rapidity that surprised them all.
After Crow bade them farewell and returned to Salvation, they rested for a short while, ate and waited for Myall to return from his patrol out at the work site.
“Figure we’d better get some kind of routine established, and triple fast,” Ryan said to the others. “The women and kids have seen us, and the workers saw us when we arrived. So now we need—”
“To let them know we’re here and here to stay,” Mildred interjected.
“Exactly. And the only way to do that is to keep visible.”
“Yeah, that’s okay,” J.B. said thoughtfully, “but I really think we should concentrate on the well and refinery next. That’s the root of the trouble.”
Ryan gave his friend a sideways glance. “There something you’re not saying, J.B.? Because you sound like you’ve got a few ideas. Mebbe you should share them.”