John Ringo - East of the Sun, West of the Moon

“I’m not going anywhere until someone tells me what I’m charged with!” Linda snapped. “I’ve got powerful friends, buddy, you can’t just up and snatch me out of my apartment !”

“Ma’am, you’re not charged with anything,” Varnicke said placatingly. “And we don’t know why you’re being detained. Our orders are to pick you up, take you to a colonel at the War Department and then pick up two more people.”

“And as for your friends,” the still unnamed male officer said bluntly, “you’ll be permitted to contact someone once you reach the War Department but you’re to communicate with no one while you are in detention. Now, please prepare to leave.”

Stunned, Linda let herself be led into her own apartment by Ranger Varnicke while the male remained outside, presumably on guard. Varnicke helped her pack while Linda finished her makeup.

She was taken through Washan in a closed, and stuffy, carriage, to an outlying building at the sprawling headquarters. There she was turned over to a Blood Lord soldier who escorted her to a windowless room with only one door in which three other people waited.

“Does anyone know what is going on?” she asked, dropping the leather satchel with all she currently possessed at her feet and sitting in a hard-backed chair.

“No idea,” a man said, running his eyes over her. “But the view’s certainly improved.”

Linda snorted and examined her fellow travelers. Two of them had to be well over a hundred, one of the two having the look of someone who spent most of his time in a day-labor job.

“Where are you from, miss?” one of the older men asked. “We’re all from Raven’s Mill but I don’t recognize you.”

“I’m from here,” she said, shrugging. “I lived near Washan… before, you know? And I moved here.”

“What do you do, miss?” the one that looked like a day laborer asked.

“I’m a secretary,” she said, shrugging. “I work in a duke’s office.”

“Lucky duke,” the man who’d commented on the view said.

That apparently exhausted the fund of small talk available and they sat in silence for an extended period of time. There was no way to determine how long but the wait seemed interminable. Linda spent her time mentally composing the note she was going to send to Dehnavi.

Finally the door opened and the same Blood Lord that had escorted her to the room gestured from the opening.

“That’s apparently it, for now,” he said. “If you’d please come with me?”

“Where are we going?” Linda snapped. “I was told I could send a note to someone telling them where I’d disappeared to.”

“You’ll get a chance,” the Blood Lord said. “Later. Come with me, please. If you see anyone you recognize, just smile and wave. No talking or discussion.”

There were three more Blood Lords waiting for them and the group was escorted around the edge of the War Department zone and to a portal in another enclosed room.

“Where in the hell are we going?” Linda snapped, balking at the portal.

“Seventh Legion’s camp,” the lead Blood Lord answered. “Enter the portal, ma’am.”

Linda gritted her teeth and stepped through after the other three. There was another group of Blood Lords on the far side standing in a three-sided shed. From it, the bustle of the Legion camp could be observed and Linda noticed that there was some sort of inner camp with a gate just down the street.

“Manuel Sukiama?” the sergeant in charge of the group asked.

“Here,” one of the older men said.

“Josten Ram?”

“Here,” the man who’d commented on her looks answered. “What is this all about?”

“You’ll be told soon, sir,” the sergeant answered. “Linda Donohue?”

“Here,” Linda snarled. “There is going to be hell to pay about this.”

“As you say, ma’am. Geo Keating?”

“Here,” the day laborer said.

“You’re Geo Keating?” Linda gasped. “You wrote Sixth Order Mechanics .”

“That was a long time ago, young lady,” the man said, his face breaking into a smile. “Thank you for remembering.”

“What the hell are you doing looking like…” She paused and gestured embarrassedly.

“Ah, well,” the man said, shrugging his shoulders with a slight smile. “Not much work for quantum engineers these days, is there? Take life a day at a time.”

“Could the four of you come with me, please?” the sergeant said, walking out of the shed and towards the inner camp.

“I love how polite they are,” Linda said, sarcastically, shrugging her satchel up and following. “As if we have a choice.”

“Well, it’s better than what I’d be doing today,” Keating said. “Could I help you with your bag, miss?”

“I can carry it,” Linda said, noticing for the first time that he didn’t have a bag of his own. “Where’s your stuff?”

“This is my stuff, miss,” the man said, looking around the camp. “Lovely use of space, very efficient.”

“I’d think that some of your background would have transferred to the new tech,” Linda said, puzzled. “Couldn’t you get work as, I dunno, an engineer.”

“The requirements for modern engineering are a bit far from my area of expertise, miss,” Keating said, frowning. “I actually tried at one point but… I’m really not a good day-to-day engineer. I tend to… wander mentally. And there’s not much room for impracticality these days. Digging gives me plenty of chance to think. It’s not all that bad of a life. I never was much into material possessions; I donated almost all of my credits to the Wolf project before the Fall. So I live life one day at a time, find some work that keeps me in food and… think. It’s not the worst life possible. And I’ve done good work these days, helping to build Raven’s Mill. In a way, creating a well-built wall is as satisfying as publishing a well-thought thesis. Perhaps more so; I don’t have to defend my wall. It is there for everyone to see and admire. It keeps the wind out and with a roof it keeps the rain off. When I build a foundation, you know that the wall will stand. And when I build a wall, you know that the roof will stand.”

“And when you build a roof?” Linda asked, smiling. “And please call me Linda, Mr. Keating.”

“Ah, I don’t do roofing, miss,” the man said, shrugging. “Afraid of heights. Don’t even do high walls if I can avoid it.”

They had reached the gates to the inner camp and were passed through. The camp on the far side was centered around a lake and more substantial, with two-story wooden buildings filling most of the space. She also noticed that the few people in view were all wearing badges on lanyards. A secure area, then, something like the inner areas of the War Department.

They were led to one of the closest buildings and to another waiting room, this one fitted with comfortable chairs and a wall clock; it appeared to be some sort of a rec room. There were a few books and magazines scattered around. Although from the looks of the books and magazines it was a rec room for mostly males, probably the Blood Lord guards.

There was a pleasant-faced older woman waiting in the room and she nodded as they entered.

“Welcome to Icarus Camp, I’m June Lasker,” the woman said. “In a moment I’ll be interviewing each of you and explaining what’s going on. I know you’re all upset and I’ll ask you to try not to take it out on me. I’m just as stuck in this as you are,” she added with a smile. “So, what did the net bring in this time? Names, in other words.”

“Josten Ram,” Josten said. “So, what is this all about?”