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Saturday
“Detail, stand ready!” Mohammed Bey had taken a friend’s place for morning flag raising detail. It was one of the few ceremonies that he actually liked. “Loader, charge powder.”
The artillery crew stood ready as the loader pushed a scoop of black granules down the bronze barrel of the ancient Chinese dragon gun. “Prepare the fuse.” A fuse was inserted into the touch-hole. Once the fuse was made ready, As`Zaman raised his sword. “Detail, present arms! Sergeant, fire.” The sergeant, who held the burning linstock, stepped forward and applied flame to fuse. After a brief shower of sparks, the cannon emitted a short, low roar and recoiled a few paces, enveloping the detail of uniformed cadets in a cloud of gray smoke.
He returned to his room and pulled the plastic bag from his utility pouch. The bag contained about half a kilogram of black powder. “I just have to grind this down a tiny bit.”
It took him about two hours but he was satisfied that everything was perfect. He closed the clasps of the guitar case and slung it over his shoulder.
The campus was like a ghost town, with perhaps one or two other students could be seen traversing the grounds but Mohammed Bey was the only one in uniform. The student parking area was remote as well as small –few were permitted to have vehicles on campus, even less could afford such luxuries. He pulled the mylar climate cover from his turbocycle and ran his fingers over the hand-tooled leather. A gift from his father, it was a classic Usako street turbo, light and maneuverable. The tank and fenders were glazed in ivory with a Rif horseman motif throughout. All the metal portions were plated with gleaming platinum. He keyed his helmet and activated the HUD, the starting motor turning the fans. He finger hit the ignition and a small tail of flame erupted from behind his cycle. He shifted to reduction gear drive and obeyed the on-campus speed limits. As he pulled up to the Torii arch that greeted everyone who first arrived at the academy, he checked the route ahead. People were scrambling to get off the pavement. He switched to ballistic and coursed down the long avenue of cherry trees at 180 kilometers an hour, trailing blue flame.
Entering town, Mohammed Bey again observed the posted speed limits. His HUD indicated an incoming call. “As`Zaman.”
It was Maliq. “Cadet Captain,” he stuttered, “Kamal and I were running a few tests and something happened.”
“What do you mean? Did you break something?”
“Uh, no.” stammered Maliq, “We were tweaking the supercharger and the remote shorted while it was maneuvering on the track.”
“So its on AI?” Mohammed Bey slowed down.
“Yes.”
“It’ll run out of fuel in about half an hour, right?”
“Uh…”
“Right?” He pulled over.
“We filled the tank, sir. We wanted to do a run at full weight.”
“That machine will run for over four hours on a full tank The AI will keep it on academy grounds, correct?”
“There is one little problem.” Added Maliq.
“It’s the lake, isn’t it?” As`Zaman suddenly felt ill. If the hovercraft took off over the lake, it could go almost anywhere.
“Listen,” responded Maliq, “Kamal and I are going after our turbocycles to go look for it.”
Mohammed Bey keyed his tracker, which did not show the Ifrit in its detection range of three kilometers. “Deal with it. I’m not going to let this ruin my weekend.”
As he cruised through town he passed by the Grand Plaza Hotel and spotted Cadet Al-Dabab in his academy uniform. He pulled over, “Cadet Al-Dabab!” he waved, “Attending the ball tonight?”
The cadet shook his head, “Not this year, Cadet Captain.” Replied the teen, “I’m driving a limousine for a friend.” He patted a gloved hand on the sleek black vehicle that he proudly stood beside. “Is that really an Usako?”
Mohammed Bey deployed the kickstand and dismounted, “It sure is.” He paused as about a dozen heavy turbocycles roared by, their riders wearing off-road armor. The golden kanji symbol on the backs of their uniforms looked familiar.
“Hey, I’ve got some time,” Al-Dabab warmed up, “mind if I take it for a short ride?”
As`Zaman checked his chronometer, “Sure, have fun.” He unplugged his helm from his datapad and handed it to the eager cadet, who wasted no time as he sped away.
“What’s he doing?” Mohammed Bey had been standing beside the limousine that Cadet Al-Dabab was supposed to be driving that evening. He had allowed the cadet to borrow his turbocycle over ten minutes ago. His comm unit sounded. “As`Zaman.”
“Nephew, it is Uncle Ahmed!” There was the sound of great activity in the background.
“Uncle Ahmed! How good it is to hear your voice.”
“It is good to hear yours too, my good boy.” He replied, there was confused shouting.
“Uncle, is everything alright?” asked the cadet.
“I was just about to bring that up, my favorite nephew.” He said, “Remember on Quentin, those young men in the alleyway?”
Mohammed Bey suddenly recalled the kanji symbol on the uniforms of the bikers that sped by earlier. “Uncle! A dozen of them in body armor? A golden kanji symbol on their backs?”
“You always amaze me, nephew!” said the elder, “They have managed to sabotage some of my dropship’s systems and are trying to gain entrance.”
“What can I do, uncle?”
“I cannot contact Saba, at the hotel.” Said Uncle Ahmed, “I’m bouncing this signal off the jumpship to contact you.”
“Oh, another discreet operation –no police again.”
“Yes, and don’t tell your mother.”
Mohammed Bey tried to call Cadet Al-Dabab’s commlink. There was a chirping sound from a datapad on the limousine’s driver’s seat. Al-Dabab was not to be found. He tossed his guitar case into the passenger compartment and made himself comfortable in the driver’s seat. The control key was in the panel so As`Zaman started the engine which purred in near silence. The polished teak inlayed dashboard lit up so the teen cadet set the environmentals, and cranked up the bellydance music. Just before he put the limousine into gear, the passenger door opened and closed. Someone had entered the vehicle. “Now what?” He tapped the monitor, a young woman was in the passenger compartment. “Miss, you are going to have to get out.”
The teenaged woman looked straight into the camera, “What did you say?” It was Cadet Benhaddad.
“Cadet Rachel Benhaddad, what are you wearing?” asked Mohammed Bey, shocked by the revealing neckline.
“Johann, is that you? Stop the jokes, already.” She commanded, “Draco Zaghlul Bey will be here at any moment.”
“Cadet Benhaddad, this is Mohammed As`Zaman Bey and I need this vehicle.” Replied the youth, sliding the panel between the driver and passenger open. “My uncle needs help and it will be dangerous.”
“Are you insinuating that I cannot handle danger, Cadet Captain?”
He grit his teeth and punched the throttle, “No time to lose.”
The Union Class dropship “Al Idadah” was under siege. Its internal power had somehow been cut and armor clad figures climbed about the outside, using various cutting tools trying to gain entry. Local defense turrets were unable to challenge the men who used grappling hooks to climb the vessel’s sides. The dropship had set down in a field near a place called Tranquility Park, near the lake. The park area was crisscrossed with small streams so a maze of concrete footbridges linked different sections of the park together.
During the twenty-five kilometer drive out of town, Mohammed Bey was able to contact Saba, who had been at a theatre and had his commlink turned off. He was enroute with his armored rover and small arsenal.
“I can’t believe what you did to your hair.” Commented Mohammed Bey. “And that dress –you are almost falling out of it.”
“This is the latest fashion in Luthien, I’ll have you know.” She shot back, not giving an inch. “And I didn’t wear this for you.”
Mohammed Bey pushed that last remark from his mind and tried to formulate a battle plan in his head. He didn’t have a sword -the only weapon he had at the moment was in the guitar case. “Cadet,” he called, “there is going to be shooting. –Are you sure you wish to get involved?”
“I am certain, Mohammed Bey.” She replied, “I shall be a mechwarrior and take similar risks.”
“Very well,” He nodded, “Open the guitar case.”
The female cadet opened the case and her jaw dropped. Her well-manicured fingers lighted traced over the fully restored Algerian flintlock made of acaccia wood inlayed with geometric figures carved from camel bones. The Damascus steel barrel looked like metallic wood with a golden bead as the forward sight. “You aren’t going to face slug throwers and lasers with this antique.”
“No, you are.” Replied As`Zaman, opening the vehicle’s sun roof. “We don’t have time to switch positions and I’ve seen your range scores –you are a much better shot that I am, Miss Benhaddad.”
“You may call me Rachel, you know.” She replied, “How do you work this thing?”
“In the case, there is a leather bag under the barrel.”
“Yes.”
“That is the propellant in powder form.”
“Measure about a teaspoon’s worth of powder and pour it down the barrel.”
“How?”
“Cup your palm, like in measuring salt.”
“Oh.”
“See the strips of cloth? That acts as a seal when you push a round down the barrel -You will note that there are one dozen sabot rounds in addition to the round lead balls. The sabot rounds will be more stable.”
Mohammed Bey cut his headlights and used the night vision HUD the limousine was equipped with. Sure enough, he could see the Al Idadah sitting in the darkness, with the flashes caused by cutting tools and torches twinkling in the distance. He slowly pulled up into Tranquility Park’s main gate. They had crossed half the park at a slow crawl before Rachel was ready to fire.
Miss Benhaddad had located another set of night vision goggles and with her elbow resting on the limousine roof, recited the routine. “Hammer at half cock…prime the pan…close the frizzen… full cock and aim.” She pulled the trigger and the ancient musket flashed. She held on target for the one and a half second delay as the weapon belched flame and smoke.
Three hundred meters away, it appeared as if one of the bikers scaling the side of the Union decided to take a dive off the side of the dropship. Laser beams flickered and slug throwers popped, firing in every direction. Mohammed Bey realized that the musket he had a reach farther than the modern weapons carried by the bikers. He smiled. “Reload, Rachel, they’re firing blind.”
“Measure powder…ram wadding…” She wondered how the Rif horsemen loaded and fired such weapons while riding.
“Rachel, did you know that the powderbag you are using is made from a camel’s scrotum?”
“Ewwww!” That was not the kind of information she needed at the moment.
Mohammed Bey noticed that Cadet Al-Dabab’s commlink was chirping. He discreetly turned it off.
Benhaddad had taken six shots with four confirmed kills. The bikers finally took notice of where the firing was coming from and had taken action –they moved to the opposite side of the dropship.
As`Zaman’s commlink sounded, “Yes?” It was Saba -he was on his way. Mohammed Bey would have been a bit more relieved if he didn’t notice the dozen more turbocycles heading toward the park. “Rachel, we have company coming.” He chose to halt the reinforcements at a choke point –the main gate. “Hold on.”
He hit the throttle and sped toward the main gate, all lights off and running silent. The lead cycles slowed when their collision detectors began flashing. Mohammed Bey turned his collision detection system off –all those alarms distracted him. He put the limousine into six-wheel drive and braced for impact. The other cycles in formation would have their proximity detectors turned off. He grinned.
“What are you do-“
The HUD distorted momentarily and the limousine suddenly pitched upward and rolled onto its right side, accompanied by a cacophony of screams, shrieking metal on metal and multiple impacts of turbocycles as they struck the limousine, the gate, the wrought iron fence and the pavement…
“Rachel, are you alright?” asked As`Zaman, pushing the debris of the impact airbags away. “Rachel…”
“Oooh…my hair!” She crawled from open the sun roof, still clutching the musket.
Mohammed Bey climbed from his door window, carefully looking about for movement. The moans of the wounded came from all directions. “Rachel, we have to find a safer place.”
The sound of a firefight came from the direction of the Union. With the intruders driven to one side of the vessel, the crew was able to send a sally force out to catch the gang unaware. A familiar vehicle approached, it was Saba’s rover. As`Zaman took Benhaddad’s hand, “I ruined your gown and your evening, Rachel, will you ever forgive me?” He looked at her face, stained with smoke and framed by her disheveled hair and handed her a clean handkerchief.
“You! The baka gaijin from the alley!”
Mohammed Bey stepped in front of Rachel he saw a figure stagger through the park’s main gate. He clutched what appeared to be a laser pistol and struggled to raise it.
There was a familiar muffled roar coming from a nearby stream.
Mohammed Bey looked at his wrist crystal. “Ifrit!”
The wounded biker turned as the gleaming silver hovercraft rose from the stream and glided up the bank. The Ifrit’s AI steered it toward the freedom of the main gate.
As`Zaman waited until the last second before he used the remote on his datapad to cut the hovercraft’s power –and its ability to steer, causing it to go ballistic through the main gate. The biker attempted to leap aside but was struck full on by the quarter ton Ifrit, the body landing with a wet crunch. The hoverscout tumbled and struck the limousine, sending shiny metal fragments in all directions.
Saba arrived and handed the teens assault rifles. He looked at the carnage then back at Mohammed Bey and shook his head. A trio of turbocycles slowly made their way to the main gate area. It was Cadets Maliq, Kamal and Al-Dabab. Mohammed Bey waved and smiled. He retrieved the guitar case, powder and bullets from the limousine and carefully put the musket away and slung the case over his shoulder. He offered his left elbow, “Cadet Rachel Benhaddad, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to meet my Uncle Ahmed?”
“Cadet Captain Mohammed As`Zaman Bey,” she replied, taking his arm, “I could think of no better way to spend an evening.” The two walked through the moonlit park at a leisurely pace, taking time to enjoy the view of the lake.
The loading ramps of the Al Idadah were down, and a trio of forklifts loaded the excess turbocycles abandoned and otherwise strewn about the park onto the dropship. A small recovery vehicle was needed to load the limousine. Saba was at the front gate, he had taken care of the police patrol vehicle that came by and a small crew was repairing the main gate, washing down the pavement and putting a new coat of paint on the fence.
Cadet Maliq was depressed, the Ifrit’s engine was in need of a total rebuild. Cadet Kamal eagerly poked through the wrecked turbocycles, he hoped to find components he could use.
By the time they reached the Al Idadah, Mohammed Bey had removed his coat and draped it over Cadet Benhaddad’s shoulders. The evening air had suddenly grown cooler and he still considered it unseemly for a young lady to wear a strapless gown that bared so much skin. Together they walked into the repair bay where technicians removed the dents and scratches from the limousine.
Uncle Ahmed stood by a worktable, giving orders to his men. He saw the teens approaching and smiled. “My good nephew and a princess!”
As`Zaman placed the guitar case on the work table, “This is Cadet Rachel Benhaddad, we bring a gift for you, Uncle Ahmed.” Cadet Benhaddad executed a curtsey that a duchess would envy.
“A gift? Because they are so rare, I happen to love gifts!”
“Help me with this, Rachel.” The two opened the guitar case and stepped back. The elder’s jaw dropped.
He picked the musket up and shouldered it, “A fine weapon,” he said, “a fine weapon indeed but these markings on the stock are not of our people.”
“That may be so, uncle” replied Mohammed Bey, “but if you look closely at the lock, you will note that it is marked TOWER with the Common Era date, one thousand six hundred and thirty two.” He removed a multitool from his belt and removed the lock. “Behold!”
Old Ahmed sat at the table and examined the inner workings of the lock. His eyes began to tear. “No greater gift has ever been given to this old man.”
Rachel leaned over to Mohammed Bey and whispered, “What is it?”
“The lock mechanism was once broken and the original steel part replaced with a portion cast of bronze.” Replied As`Zaman, “That bronze part bears a stamp –the vulture symbol of my mother’s and my uncle’s clan when they scavenged materials from their home desert on Terra, fourteen centuries ago.”
EPILOGUE
Early Sunday morning…
Cadet Captain As`Zaman Bey escorted Cadet Benhaddad to the entrance of the women’s billets, his coat still draped over her shoulders. “One more time.” He said.
“I didn’t feel well, so I left the ball early.” She recited, “The limousine was stolen, recovered later and the insurance company will reimburse Cadet Zaghlul Bey the rental.” She smiled. While in the Union, she had taken the time to brush her hair into the long raven tresses that Mohammed Bey was accustomed to.
“Cadet Al-Dabbab gets a nice turbocycle for his silence,” said Mohammed Bey, “Cadets Maliq and Kamal get to use the workshop on my uncle’s Union to rebuild the Ifrit in time to compete next week.”
“I’ve never heard of the Kanga design.” Commented Benhaddad.
As`Zaman shrugged, “Neither have I. At least everyone got something out of this.”
“Oh? Do you think so?”
The Cadet Captain did not like the sound of that at all. “Why didn’t you say something while in the Union?”
“Simple, there wasn’t anything I wanted from Ahmed Kahman Bey.”
Despite the chill of early morning, Mohammed Bey began to perspire. “Alright, I’m ready to barter.”
“Barter? What ever for, my silence?” she asked.
“What else is there?”
“I’ve just had the most fun I’ve ever had in my life, you idiot!” she replied, “There is no way I’m going to tell anyone what we did tonight because if I did, despite your stuffy demeanor, you’d be surrounded by girls.”
Now he was confused. “Ah! You are mocking me.”
Benhaddad began to laugh softly, “No, Mohammed, I want to help you.”
“Help me what?” he asked, turning to leave, “Discuss my personal flaws in front of the women’s billets at two in the morning? I feel better already.”
“Wait.” She started to follow.
He spun on his heel, “Stop.” He raised a finger. “Miss Rachel Benhaddad, if you follow me, I shall have difficulty respecting you. So please…you may return my coat tomorrow.” He was about to turn, instead he gently took her hand and bent forward, raising it to his lips and kissed it. “I shall ever be grateful that you shared this evening with me.”
He turned and strode purposefully along the tree-lined path. It had been a long day and all he wanted to do is get to his room and sleep.
Cadet Benhaddad sighed and walked up the stairs to the billets and carefully opened the heavy front door. As she entered the building, somebody turned the entranceway lights on. The nightwatch desk was surrounded by young ladies, a couple in uniform, a dozen or more in robes. What were they waiting for?
“She’s wearing his uniform jacket! Oooooh!”
Rachel smiled despite the situation and muttered, “Oh, crap!”
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[i]And Allah turned back the unbelievers in their rage; they did not obtain any advantage, and Allah sufficed the believers in fighting; and Allah is Strong, Mighty.[/i] from The Koran, 33rd Sura- The Clans
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