Grantville Gazette, Volume 70 Read online

****

  When the train pulled into Naumburg Station, most of the passengers disembarked. Some made a beeline for the restrooms, others for the food cart.

  Neustatter indicated the food cart. "Sergeant Sandhagen, you should come with us. Good food, good information."

  When they got to the front of the line, Neustatter said, "Nine of the kosher sausages on buns, Herr Kraft."

  "Good to see you again, Neustatter. The Saxon cities east of the river caused some trouble earlier this week, but all is quiet today." Kraft used some English idioms and word order, but retained der, die, and das and inflected the German nouns if not the occasional English one. He nodded toward a pair of men with green armbands. "We Saale Levies have two of the oversized squads we call heaps near Weissenfels, with a radio. They checked in this morning, as did Camps Terror and Destruction."

  "Good enough for me," Neustatter declared.

  Sergeant Sandhagen raised an eyebrow, as if to say, "This is an extremely well-informed sausage dealer."

  Astrid indicated the jars of pickles and relishes along the side of the food cart. "I have seen these in Grantville."

  Kraft smiled. "We hope to have more varieties after this year's harvest. Safe run."

  "All aboard!"

  ****

  The train picked up speed out of the station and clattered across the Unstrut River bridge. The engineer gave a long blast on the horn as they passed Camp Terror. Astrid saw SoTF National Guardsmen on the corner watchtowers waving. She watched the ridgeline to the left carefully as the train negotiated the S-curve and headed north toward Eulau and the site of the attempted hijacking.

  "Neustatter, it looks like the Saale Levies have almost finished that watchtower on the ridge, but the second floor is crooked."

  Neustatter crossed to her side of the train and studied it. He whistled. "It is turned forty-five-degrees from the walls of the first story to remove all the blind spots."

  The train sped past the site of the ambush and continued north with a steady clickety-clack. A couple passengers boarded at Weissenfels, and the train rumbled on toward Merseburg.

  Neustatter crossed to Astrid's side of the train again. "We are approaching Camp Destruction. Tell me what you see."

  The engineer honked the horn again, and the soldiers in the watchtowers waved. The steady clickety-clack on the rails continued as the train continued on toward Merseburg.

  "They are alert," Astrid observed, keeping her voice down as Neustatter had. "Those two new buildings look almost finished."

  "I have never seen anyone at work on them. Nor have Hjalmar nor Ditmar."

  "Yet progress is steady."

  "Makes you wonder who does the work, and when, does it not?" Neustatter asked.

  Astrid mulled that over until Merseburg came into sight. No one sees the work being done. So they stop work when trains go by, and get out of sight. No reason for von Hessler's Saale Levies to do that. No reason for the SoTF National Guard—Oh!

  "I figured it out, Neustatter."

  Neustatter nodded. Astrid figured half of that was approval for keeping her mouth shut about who it was.

  The Weissenfels passengers disembarked at Merseburg, a couple other passengers boarded, and the train rumbled on toward Halle.

  One of the CoC men came over. "I heard your men call this the Saxon Run," he said. "Does that mean you get off in Halle?"

  "Nein," Neustatter told him. "Trouble is less likely beyond Halle, but a determined opponent could still cause some. We ride all the way to Magdeburg."

  "As do we," the CoC man said.

  "I thought the CoCs were generally moving outward from Magdeburg," Neustatter observed.

  "We finished our assignment. They want us back in Magdeburg. We were not in time to make it to Güstrow, but if anything else like that happens…"

  Astrid managed not to cringe at the matter-of-fact way he said it. Krystalnacht had started a couple weeks ago. The Committees of Correspondence attacked anti-Semites and witch hunters—the sort of people responsible for the deaths of Mayor Dreeson, Enoch Wiley, Buster Beasley, and far too many police officers in Grantville. In Mecklenburg Province, the nobles had attacked the CoCs—but then CoC reinforcements shattered the nobles' army at the Battle of Güstrow.

  A couple passengers boarded at Schkopau, and a few minutes later, the train pulled into the station at Halle. Most of the passengers disembarked; there was a half-hour stopover, and Halle's station had restrooms.

  "You and Wolfram first," Neustatter told Astrid.

  Wolfram was already back at the train when she returned—the line for the women's restroom had been a bit slower.

  "Miss Schäubin, you are in charge." Neustatter informed her. "Hjalmar and I will see if Sergeant Hudson is on duty."

  "Understood, boss," she replied.

  A few minutes later, she saw Neustatter, Hjalmar, and two CoC men come out of the railroad station. Makes sense. They must want news, too.

  "All aboard!"

  The clickety-clack of the wheels increased as the train picked up speed.

  ****

  The train pulled into Magdeburg Central at dusk.

  "That was uneventful," Sergeant Sandhagen remarked.

  "That is how we like them," Neustatter agreed.

  "We need to report in. Good working with you," the CoC leader said. "You might have a drink at Green Horse Tavern and see if Frau Linder is singing. She is an up-timer, very popular with the Committees."

  Neustatter nodded his thanks.

  "Safe journey."

  Neustatter nodded. "To you, as well." He watched as the CoC men set out toward the walled part of the city.

  "You are concerned," Astrid observed. "Krystalnacht?"

  "I do not doubt that the anti-Semites and witch hunters had it coming. But such a large operation depends heavily on its small unit commanders …It is very easy for something to go wrong. People make mistakes, after all." He sighed. "Shall we go find this Green Horse Tavern?"

  Green Horse Tavern was crowded, but the NESS teams found a table in the back. They spent the next couple hours listening to Marla Linder and her fellow musicians play what they called Irish music.

  When Marla finished singing “The Wind That Shakes the Barley,” Neustatter turned to Astrid. "It sounds like the Irish had a hard time of it in the up-time but persevered. I should have a researcher look into whether there is anything we can adopt for NESS."

  Astrid shook her head. "If so, you will find at least one John Wayne movie about it."

  ****

  Thursday, June 21, 1635

  Magdeburg

  The NESS teams slept late. It was mid-day before they all assembled and wandered about Magdeburg in search of food.

  Astrid found herself checking her surroundings frequently.

  "Nervous?" Hjalmar asked.

  "The city feels different."

  "You are correct," Neustatter said. "But tell me how you know. What do you see?"

  Astrid watched people for a few minutes. "Many are glancing around. Some are hurrying with their heads down."

  "Exactly."

  A few minutes later, Hjalmar asked, "Are we going back to Green Horse Tavern, Neustatter? We have passed at least three places where we could eat."

  "You may eat anywhere you wish. I am going to Syborg's Book Store," Neustatter said. "There's an inn with good food a couple blocks north of it."

  Hjalmar rolled his eyes.

  Astrid just smiled. She wanted to see the inside of this bookstore. She'd heard about it from the men often enough.

  Half an hour later, she was still smiling in amusement as Neustatter and Herr Syborg carried on an animated discussion of westerns in Amideutsch. Syborg had sent his son and the sales clerk off to lunch a while ago.

  "You must see the latest from Haas and Seitz," Matthias Syborg urged him. "The characters are masterfully done."

  "I agree Haas and Seitz write great characters," Neustatter acknowledged, "but I do not think they get the geography
right. The American West didn't have villages every couple miles. Not in the up-time movies, anyway."

  Naturally that led into a discussion of those movies. Astrid half-listened to Syborg's quick, chopped-off Amideutsch and Neustatter's adopted drawl as she wandered around the bookstore. She felt crowded as she maneuvered around three other patrons. The whole shop would easily fit inside the Calvert High School library, so why did it seem to have so many books? Train your power of observation. The voice in her head sounded just like Neustatter. So she followed orders.

  One shelf in each stack had a book open, propped up on a little wooden lectern, with a stack of the new magazines to either side. That meant fewer books per shelf, and it also meant the shelves had to be spaced further apart than at Calvert High, so there were fewer shelves per stack. And the bottom two shelves had literal stacks of books. She bent down to check. Yes, they were more copies of the titles on the upper shelves. Astrid looked around and realized that the bookstore had no back room. The bottom two shelves were inventory storage. That meant nobody had to get down on the floor to read book titles. She counted the books on one shelf, the number of shelves in a stack, and the number of stacks in the store. No, there were not nearly as many books as it seemed.

  Neustatter and the proprietor were still talking, so Astrid kept browsing. A lot of the non-fiction was reprints of up-time books, mostly technical subjects and histories. But some were newly written by down-timers. Most had Dewey numbers printed right on the spine.

  The fiction was grouped by genre. Astrid skipped the romance. She'd get recommendations. That would save her no end of frustration trying to figure out whether a given book was the up-time "in love" style, the down-time family alliance style, or a mix of clashing expectations. She'd read one of those that was quite good and a few that were bad enough that she'd moved along to mysteries. She liked those where she had a reasonable chance of figuring out the culprit.

  Astrid looked up when she heard the door open. A young woman maneuvered a teenage boy into the bookstore, then quickly pulled the door closed behind her. Astrid kept a book in front of her as if she were fascinated by how the dowager freifrau was narrowing down who could have killed the church sexton. But really she was assessing the new arrivals. The young woman looked like she was in her mid-twenties, about her own age. She was expensively dressed and carried herself confidently. More confidently than I would expect of a burgher's daughter. Probably of the adel. But she looks worried. The teenaged boy wore similarly fine clothes, a sword, and a stubborn expression.

  "Welcome," Syborg said. "May I help you find a book?"

  "Nein," the boy said.

  "Ja, bitte," the woman said at the same time.

  "What kind of book are you looking for?"

  Astrid watched her falter for a couple seconds and realized the woman hadn't really come in for a book. But she recovered quickly and said, "An adventure." With a nod toward the young man, even.

  "What sort of adventure?" the proprietor asked. "Foreign lands? Science fiction?"

  "Science fiction?" The woman pronounced it carefully. "What is that?"

  "A genre popularized by the up-timers. The stories feature much technology, often in space."

  "That is boring." Whether it was the dismissive tone or the casual flip of his hand, Astrid was suddenly seized by an urge to smack him a new attitude.

  "What about a Western, then?"

  "What is that?" The boy's lip curled dismissively.

  "They are set in North America, in the up-time."

  "Pfffffffttt. Stupid stories."

  "Do you even know what you are calling stupid?" Neustatter rumbled. He stepped up in front of the boy. "I study westerns carefully, the real thing and the stories. They help me understand the up-timers, and because of it my men and I make a better living as security consultants."

  "Ha! You are nothing but a mercenary! I am an imperial knight! Stand aside, or—"

  "Or what?" Neustatter interrupted.

  Astrid tossed the book on a random shelf, took three quick steps, and yanked the woman aside.

  At the same time, the young man's hand flashed to his sword. It was halfway out when Neustatter staggered him with a quick left jab to the chin. To his credit, he actually managed to finish drawing the sword while flailing wildly to recover his balance—and found himself staring down the barrel of the M1911 .45 that had streaked out of Neustatter's holster.

  "I think you need to study the Westerns, too." Neustatter's voice was calm. "You are good. If you can control your noble temper, you will be better." Without turning his head, he asked, "Herr Syborg, do you have the novelization of Rio Bravo?"

  The proprietor swallowed. "Ja, ja, I think so. Right over there."

  Astrid was closest. She passed a copy to Neustatter.

  "Add it to my bill, bitte," Neustatter told him. He handed the book to the young man. "For you."

  The woman—by now Astrid was assuming she was his older sister—curtseyed, thanked them graciously, and swept the boy out of the shop.

  Neustatter grinned as he holstered his pistol. "I don't know as I've seen someone elegantly hustle before."

  "Neustatter—" Astrid began.

  Neustatter shrugged with both hands palm up. "He drew on me. And he got out of it with a punch in the mouth and a book. I think it went okay."

  Matthias Syborg burst into laughter and clapped Neustatter on the shoulder.

  ****

  After she and Neustatter eventually got some lunch, Astrid wandered around Magdeburg with the others for a bit. Then they returned to their rooms, and Astrid lay down for a nap. She wanted to be as well-rested as possible before she stayed up all night on the train. Around five, the NESS agents assembled for dinner in the inn's main room before making their way to the train station. Sergeant Sandhagen was already there.

  "How were the barracks?" Neustatter asked.

  "Tense. New prime minister, Krystalnacht, upcoming war. Wars, maybe."

  "We noticed the same thing," Neustatter stated. "What do we know about tonight's train?"

  "It is the regular overnight express to Schwarza Junction. Semi-express, actually, with stops at Halle, Naumburg Station, and Jena. Steam engine and three passenger cars."

  "Three?" Neustatter asked quickly.

  "Two sleepers and a regular car. They added the third a couple hours ago. A lot of people want to go to Grantville."

  "It is a safe place."

  "Exactly. Three men to each car. I will be in the middle one."

  As far as Astrid could tell, Neustatter didn't even hesitate. "Hjalmar, your team has the first car, but I need Karl in the second one."

  Astrid's brother nodded. "You want me up front with the rifle and Jakob watching my back. Otto in the rear."

  "Exactly. Karl, you are the rifleman in the second car. Sergeant Sandhagen is in charge. Phillip, you will be in the back of that car. I will be in the front of the third car. Wolfram, you have a rifle. Astrid, watch his back."

  One rifle in each car, Astrid noted. We will be stretched thin …

  "I know we will be thin." Neustatter seemed to read her thoughts. "Stay alert. And do not get comfortable on the stairs. The sleeping compartments block line of sight, so make sure you are up in the aisle frequently. Open the doors between cars if you need to pass a message."

  The NESS agents fanned out to their respective cars. Neustatter took his station at the front of the third car. Astrid started to follow Wolfram to the back, but Neustatter signaled her to wait.

  "Miss Schäubin, please look into purchasing more long arms. I want at least one more with your team, two if we can. And one more with Hjalmar's team."

  "I will see if NESS can afford what is available," Astrid agreed. "Maybe SRGs."

  "What I would really like is a Winchester."

  "I think only the Hibernian Battalion can afford those."

  The train soon began filling up. Astrid noted some of those boarding were checking large amounts of baggage. When they
boarded, she could see they were richly dressed. Adel or at least well-to-do, she thought. Are they that afraid? The Crown Loyalists won the election, and Krystalnacht has done very little in Magdeburg itself. No real reason to flee.

  She noted that in some cases, servants were preparing compartments for nobles or burghers in the first two cars and then coming back to the third car themselves. To sleep sitting up. And they won't be able to go help their masters while the train is moving. Smarter to buy the servants tickets for a second compartment.

  "All aboard!"

  Astrid checked her side of the train. "Two more!" she called out. "Running!"

  She had just realized that the first figure was a woman, running in full skirts when she caught sight of a whole group of figures.

  "Neustatter! Pursuit! No polizei in sight!"

  She heard Neustatter throw open the door to the next car as the train's brakes released. The figure was within twenty yards now, and— It was the woman and the boy from Syborg’s Book Store!

  Astrid stood on the bottom step with one hand outstretched and the other firmly around the hand rail. The woman caught her hand as the train began to move. She hurried up the stairs. The boy ignored Astrid's hand. She grabbed him instead and hauled him aboard.

  The sound of boots on the stairs behind her told her one of the pursuers had made it aboard. She turned to see two more pursuers leap aboard and quickly backed up the aisle. Everything was happening at once: the woman was pulling her brother up the aisle, passengers were turning around, one woman screamed, and the fourth and fifth pursuers were rapidly outpaced by the train. But most of Astrid's attention was on the first one. He was reaching for a weapon. Threats. Her pistol was out and rising, left hand coming up to meet it…

  "Freeze!" Neustatter barked.

  The man froze mid-draw, so Astrid froze in a two-handed stance. She saw that Wolfram, on the back left steps, had his rifle leveled at the other two, both of whom had rifles. Neustatter's voice had come from the front right, so he'd have a line of fire over the heads of the seated passengers.

  The second pursuer spoke in the clipped Amideutsch of Magdeburg.

  "We arrest them in the name of the Committees of Correspondence."

  Astrid stared in shock. But Neustatter just snorted. "I did not realize the Committees have police powers."