The Mennite Elders shuffled out of the room, dignified and silent. Wentworth suspected they’d lose the attitude once they and the Mayor were in private. He stepped out of the shadows, and started disassembling the equipment which had created the illusion of a live interview on the other side of the one-way mirror.
“Well, you pulled it off.”
His nerves flared, but he didn’t allow his body to show a response. He’d assumed that the Captain had left with the other officials, but here she was, leaning against the wall, arms crossed.
“A man does what he can,” he turned back to the cables. “I’m sorry for putting you in a tight position with the Mayor.”
“He’s the one who decided to hire you. Besides, what was it you said? I was in a situation, and it was either act, or not. A woman does what she can, too.”
Wentworth nodded, and continued disassembling the equipment.
“You know, they say those things are what caused the war.”
“Maybe… but not this one.”
“I guess not. Listen, Wentworth — about the plan we discussed; I’ve been thinking about it, and I want you to train the men.”
He paused, and looked over at her. In the dark room his goggles were completely depolarized, and his eyes met hers straight on.
“You won’t get extra pay for this. It’s part of the original contract.”
“That wasn’t what I was going to ask.”
“Good.”
“O’Neil… I don’t know if it’s really my place. You’re their Captain, and you’re the one who’s going to be leading them. You know them, I don’t. I’d feel like I was trespassing. Besides, Raxx and I need to prep his vehicle.”
“Yes, they’re my men, and that’s why I want the best training available. Wentworth…” she and stepped away from the wall. “I’m making a lot of gambles with you and your friend. A lot more than I’ve ever had to make before. Your plan sounds good, otherwise I wouldn’t have agreed to it — but I’ve never seen anything like it before. I don’t know all the nuts and bolts. I’m Police, not some raider. But it rings true. I don’t really know where you came from, but if you’re half as good as they say, then I want you there for the training. Besides, it’s going to be your life on the line.”
Wentworth tilted his head down and breathed. He flicked his eyes up to meet hers. Patricia’s held a vulnerable intensity.
“Okay. Tomorrow, in the fields south of the city.”
“I’ll have them ready. And Wentworth…” she uncrossed her arms, hooking them in to her belt, jarring her holster forward. “If you’ve been bullshitting me on any of this then I’m going to hold you personally responsible for whatever comes.”
Her pistol wasn’t a ladies weapon. Looking at it now, he noted the extended magazine. “Fair enough.”
“Good. I’ll see you on the morrow.”
He found Raxx in the parking lot next to the town gate. The Mechanic had been obliged to return the truck there, after violating the local rules by driving it to the Constabulary’s office, and he was engrossed in his work. He’d decided to skip the meeting of the Mennite Elders, focussing instead on the armouring of his vehicle for the upcoming battle. Off to the side was a V shaped underskirt for the trucks bed. Wentworth had no eye for steel quality, but the thickness and angle looked adequate for deflection.
Raxx didn’t notice his approach. The petroleum generator masked any sound, and he was focussed on drilling mounting holes for the shield. Wentworth waited.
He finished, and set down the drill. He blew away the shreds of metal, and removed his safety glasses. Reaching over to a container on the truck-bed, he pulled out a bolt, and threaded it through the hole. He checked, top and bottom, that it went through smoothly, then nodded to himself. Standing up he noticed Wentworth.
He shouted out a greeting, moving over to the generator to shut it off. “—the meeting go? The Elders on our side now?”
“The Mayor’s discussing that with them right now — but I don’t think it’ll be any problem. They didn’t say much, but I could see them vibrating when they watched you arguing with Jenkins.”
“I figured as much.”
“You did a good job there.”
“Hey, it’s all about getting into their head, right?”
“I guess so. Listen, Raxx — O’Neil wants me to help out with training her men. Are you going to be okay without me?”
“Umm… what time are you going to help her with that?”
“Not until tomorrow.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s fine — you can still help me this afternoon, right?”
“Of course — what do you need?”
“Tell you what, just hold she shield up while I mark her.”
“The sandbags are coming, right?”
“Them and the styrofoam are on order. We’ll get ’em, don’t worry! Okay, just hold it there while I get some measurements… you can put it down for a second now…”
“Boys — excuse me, boys!” The light green dress flowed around her ample figure, highlighting the femininity of her curves. The look on her face belied her light-hearted tone of voice. “Vince told me you’d be here.”
Wentworth regarded the approaching figure while Raxx smiled.
“Maria! Lovely as always!”
“Oh, Raxx… listen, boys I know how busy you are, and Vince told me not to bother you—” she smiled conspiratorially, “but I figured you’d need a good meal to keep you going. Where can I put this without troubling you?”
Raxx showed her, and she placed the basket she’d been carrying on the truck bed.
She started counting off on her fingers, “Two Simcoe Salmon sandwiches, four meatballs — two each — and a thermos of coffee, plus crackers.” She smiled, “I want the thermos back, boys!”
“But what if we’re still thirsty?” said Raxx.
“In that case, you’ll have to stop gallivanting, and come home for some fresh brew! But oh, my, look at me! I’m keeping you men from their work — Raxx, Iain — be careful, promise?”
Wentworth nodded. “Promise.”
“Promise,” said Raxx.
Maria clasped their hands, and looked at both of them. She nodded, and walked away.
Raxx watched her leave, then looked over at his partner. “Iain?”
“Yeah… I prefer Wentworth.”
“Wentworth it is, then.”
“Vince has been listening to too many rumours.”
“Hey, I’m not judging.”
“Of course you aren’t; you’ve only got one vowel for a name. So what are we doing now?”
Walking out of the city gates, he could see the constabulary assembled to the south-east, going through early-morning drills. He walked towards them, rifle slung over one shoulder. Some of the older members pointed in his direction, sharing a joke amongst themselves.
“You’re late.”
He looked at Patricia. They were the same height.
“You didn’t specify a time.”
“It’s nine-fifteen in the goddamned morning.”
“I’m just a mercenary, what do I know?”
“Yeah… you are.”
“Is it alright if I address the troops?”
“The constables? Yes.” She turned away and cleared her throat. “Constabulary… form-UP!” They ceased their exercises, and assembled in front of their Captain. Three blocks, two rows deep… subconsciously he nodded at the organization, while the Captain spoke.
“You’ve all been briefed on what these operations are for — you know their intent — it was my estimation that the best training you could receive would be from the mercenary Hope hired, with whom I formulated these plans. This is him, Iain Wentworth, recently of the Blackstock Massacre. Most of you have seen him, and all of you have heard of him. He will be conducting training over the next four hours, under my supervision. I expect discipline, and proper Hope attitude out all of you — is that clear?”
“Yes, Ma’am!”
She nodded at him, and he stepped forward. This mass of men and women was no army — off to the left he spotted the overweight supply officer — to the right, the light-weight personnel administrator. They regarded him with doubt and suspicion. On the far side of the line he noticed a couple of the older members whispering to each other.
“You!” He guessed at the rank on their shoulder, “Sergeant! Is something funny?”
“Ah, no… nothing’s funny.”
He turned his attention on the rest of the company. “That’s good. Your Captain’s given you a lawful command, and I’d expect that Hope’s Constabulary would have the dignity to obey it.
“None of you know me from a derelict — maybe a few rumours, some of you — but here’s the man. I’ve been in long conversation with your Captain. You’re lucky to have a leader of her calibre. She didn’t ask me here out of stupidity — she asked me because she wants her constabulary to have the best training available. Do any of you doubt that?”
The assembly looked confused. Some of them opened their mouths, but no proclamation was forthcoming.
“I asked you — do any of you doubt your Captain?”
“No.”
“That was weak. I’d hoped for better, but I accept what I have before me. Now, I am going to be training you in the operation of platoon level combat. I am going to be training you so that I and my compatriot will survive the upcoming battle with Slayer and his men. This is a field in which I have expertise. Now I ask of you, and I need an honest response. Are you able to learn from me?”
“Yes!”
He dipped his head, shaking it. “I asked you a question, whether or not you could learn. I’m going to ask you again. Can you learn from me?”
“Yes — Yes, ma’am — Sir! — Yes Sir!”
“Do you want to avenge your brothers- and sisters-in-arms who died on that supply caravan?”
“Yes sir!”
“Good! Now, I want the four senior commanders — sergeant, that’s you, isn’t it? — to confer with me. The rest of you return to your previous training, under your senior group commander. Questions, problems, concerns…? Good. Dismissed!”
It took them a moment to react, unfamiliar to the phrase — but then they scattered, while the three sergeants approached him.
“O’Neil… I’m beginning to think that your Constabulary might not get us killed, after all.”
The Captain snorted in response.