Vengeance
By
UCSBdad
Disclaimer: For the last time! I do not own Castle. Rating: K Time: In an AU future.
The woman nodded slowly. "I've never heard of your unit, soldier, nor of the Tarkai organizations you speak of."
O'Hara saw that more humans and Tarkai had arrived and that they were all armed. He ran a professional eye over the weapons. They would be considered obsolete by any modern army, but they seemed well maintained and the people holding them seemed to know what they were doing.
"I don't imagine any of your people are slaves, but you must know that the plantations in Golden Life Valley depend on slave labor."
The woman spat. "Aye, when our folk arrived here twenty years in the past, we came thinking the Tarkai were free laborers, and were shocked to find they were slaves. The Good Lord does not approve of His children being treated as property." The woman crossed herself, as did the other humans and Tarkai. O'Hara crossed himself as well.
The woman went on. "We had spent all of our money to come to Tark, but we could not stomach becoming sinful slaveholders. So, we bought the slaves they had for us and told the sinners that we were striking out for new territory. As soon as we were far enough away, we struck the manacles from our brother's and sister's and went on until the Good Lord gave us a sign to stop here. And here we stay."
"I shall report your godliness to our commander and the Tarkai in the valley." O'Hara said, hoping he didn't sound sarcastic.
"I do not approve of soldiers fighting for coin and not for principals, but the Good Lord does move in mysterious ways, his wonders to perform." This time, O'Hara crossed himself before she did.
"And you think you can defeat these sinners, Captain?"
O'Hara nodded and thought back to his childhood when he went to Mass every Sunday. ""The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness. For he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you."
The woman nodded. "I'm Mrs. Ruth Baden. My husband is off to the west, doing some hunting with some of our friends. He shan't be back for several days. "She looked at where the sun was in the sky. "Not quite time for lunch, but I suppose we could have a bit of a chat before eating. Dismount and come inside, all of you. I'd be interested in finding out what's happened beyond our little patch here."
O'Hara found that the Badens and their people had no contact with the plantations in Golden Life Valley, nor did they wish any. They were also vaguely sympathetic to the goals of Castle and the Tarkai, but would not get involved in a war. Lastly, O'Hara found that they sold their crops regularly to another trader, but not the captain of the Pink Zephyr. O'Hara tried to find out more about this trader, but Mrs. Baden became remarkably closed mouthed.
They spent the night at the plantation and he next morning O'Hara rode off to radio a report back to Castle and begin the very long ride back to their base.
Rick Castle reminded himself of the old saying, "Amateurs talk about strategy, but professionals talk about logistics." as the elderly Tarkai woman droned on and on beside him.
"Captain, we now have six weavers busy making cloth for the uniforms for your new recruits. Once the weavers here have woven the cloth, it's cut and sewn together by the seamstresses." She pointed to another group of women in the longhouse. "We have been advised that the green and brown camouflage dyes are most effective when they run horizontally as opposed to vertically. Now if you will step over here?" She moved further down the longhouse. "Here we are making the chest rigs that you requested. As you can see, they have eight pockets for the magazines for our new rifles, or rather carbines. There is a pocket on the left here for a grenade, and on the right is a pocket for a first aid kit, holding a bandage and anti…anti…" She struggled with the unfamiliar word.
"Antibiotics." Warrant Officer O'Neal, the company medic finished for her. The medic continued. "The rind of the cholum fruit makes a very nice antibiotic, sir. The Tarkai have been using it for centuries, but we've managed to improve it a bit by…"
They were interrupted. "Captain Castle, sir. You're needed at headquarters."
Castle managed to keep from smiling with relief at being spared any more logistics. "I'm on my way. "He turned to the people working in the longhouse. "You're all doing a wonderful job and we really appreciate all of your hard work, but I have to go."
When he got to his headquarters, he found two of his officers, Baratt and Corroon, intently studying a map.
"What is it?"
"Sir, we just got a call from Recon Team Cobra. A helicopter landed briefly at 4SMR35702144. It dropped of a lone Tarkai and left. The Tarkai is wearing a breechclout and a vest, like some of the southern tribes wear and is armed with a sword and a bow and arrows. He's headed pretty much straight for Thornod's Town, sir."
Castle looked at the map. "We should be able to send a patrol from here to cut him off long before he reaches Thornod's Town. Have RT Cobra keep him in sight and send a patrol to about here. Take him alive if at all possible. I'd like to know why a Tarkai would be on the side of the slavers."
Four hours later the patrol brought in a bedraggled looking, disarmed Tarkai with his hands tied behind him.
"He says he's named Arbothin, and he's a hunter from the White River area. He said he's heard that there's good hunting here and wanted to check it out."
"Is that true?" Castle asked.
"Yes. Of course." He looked right into Castle's eyes when he said this.
"Then why did my scouts see you get dropped from a helicopter that could only have come from the north?"
He shrugged. "They are wrong."
"Then perhaps we should just keep you here and see what happens when the helicopter returns?"
He sighed and looked away from Castle. "If I am not there to meet them with a report, they will torture my son. Perhaps kill him. He is the only child my wife and I have."
"You're a slave on one of the plantations?"
"Yes. The plantation of Lord Thomas. I was captured five years ago when I foolishly approached some humans. I now have a mate and a son. I will have no more children if I do not return, nor a mate."
"So, you were forced to come here because your family was threatened?"
"That is so."
Corroon spoke. "The slavers have not sent spies to our lands ever before. Why do you come now?"
"They suspect you are planning something. Something big."
Castle wondered if there was a leak in his security somewhere.
"Why do they think that?" He asked.
"There have been no attacks for months. Always before, there are attacks from the wild Tarkai. The humans think there must be some great plot afoot. They sent me to find it."
Castle laughed. "We stopped raiding the plantations so they wouldn't suspect we were here, and so they're suspicious of something because there have been no raids. Murphy is alive and well on this planet, gentlemen."
He turned to the spy. "Do you wish for your mate and your son to be free? To not be slaves?"
"More than anything."
"You have seen I have soldiers here and powerful weapons. We are here to free the Tarkai and avenge my family. When are you expected to return to be picked up?"
"In six days."
"Good. Stay here for a while, then go back. Tell them that the wild tribes are planning something, but that you were unable to find out what. In the meantime, you look like you could use a good meal."
Once Arbothin was led away, Castle ordered that he be watched closely. They he went back to the map. "Gentlemen, it seems we need to plan a raid or two."
The man who called himself Private Mike Bennett reached out and slowly stroked the barrel of his rifle. He had loved guns since he was fifteen years old. He had been just another street kid on the dirty and dangerous streets of Leedsport. Then he had taken a cheap automatic pistol and several magazines from the cold, dead hand of an Eastside Wideboy. He had run away before the other Wideboys could grab him and take the rare and precious pistol away from him. He had gathered a half a dozen other street boys around him and armed them with knives and clubs. After that, the narrow, short street was his. The merchants paid him because he was the only one on the street with a gun. For the first time that he could remember, his belly was full and he had a warm and safe place to sleep. He had someone to share his bed, as well. He smiled at the thought of Betsy, now dead for so many years.
It hadn't lasted, of course. He'd had to shoot three men who were trying to take over his turf. The first two had only been wounded. He couldn't shoot very well because he had too little ammunition to practice. The third man he had killed. The man's large and well-armed family had sworn to avenge their fallen member. He had to flee.
He had changed his name for the first time and signed on with a mercenary company, Witt's Raiders. They had not been what he had expected. He had been sent to another planet where the Raiders were keeping order for a mining company on a hot, dry, desolate world. Their job was to keep independent prospectors from mining gems that the company thought were rightfully theirs.
He was issued an ill-fitting, shoddily made uniform, no body armor or helmet and an ancient assault rifle that usually jammed after two or three rounds. His training consisted of a five minute lecture from Corporal Hiramoto on how to operate his weapon. Luckily, the prospectors they hunted had even worse weapons.
When sober, Hiramoto was a good soldier. So, unlike his comrades who drank up most of their pay, he bought alcohol for Corporal Hiramoto in exchange for help in maintaining his weapon. After a week, he could usually count on his rifle firing through an entire clip without jamming. Usually. Upgrading his rifle had meant that he'd had to steal parts from the weapons of the other mercenaries, but they were too drunk usually to notice.
He continued buying alcohol for Hiramoto in exchange for training. Although he was functionally illiterate, he managed to plow through a manual on military tactics that the corporal had. After two years his military skills, and his reading, had improved. He took his discharge and was sent back to Leedsport.
TBC