Eric Flint: Grantville Gazette Volume XI

"Sounds like a plan." Bernie sniffed. Cold always made his nose run. "After four hundred miles in this kind of freaking cold, a banya sounds really good."

Natasha smiled as Bernie left the room "That might have been more difficult."

"True." Vladislav Vasl'yevich nodded. "I wonder what delayed the ship."

They had planned not to reach the border till after the car was already there, but didn't want it waiting too long. Natasha had spent a worried week thinking up things to keep Bernie occupied. As yet, Muscovy had been able to recruit a total of one up-timer. That up-timer was Bernie Zeppi. Cass Lowry was a temporary hire.

Czar Mikhail and Patriarch Filaret were quite insistent that Bernie not leave Muscovy territory. At the same time, Mikhail Romanov expressed a personal desire that Bernie not be made to feel abused or trapped. Natasha was stuck with the job of keeping Bernie from leaving Muscovy while keeping him from realizing that he couldn't.

It was important that Bernie remain willing to stay in Muscovy. Bernie was in regular correspondence with Brandy Bates and his own family in Grantville. A sudden end to those letters would be reported to the government of the USE, most likely. Muscovy, decidedly, didn't want to annoy the USE at the moment.

"What did you do, Cass, beat the damn thing with the tire iron?" Bernie felt like he just might cry, manly or not. The car! The poor car. "What the hell happened?"

Cass Lowry glared at him from beneath the hood of his camouflage-fabric parka. "Everything you can think of, dude. Everything. Hail. Freezing rain. A goddamn storm at sea. Not to mention that we had to make the trip in the middle of a frigging war. The Dutch were occupying a fair chunk of the coast and blockading part of the rest. So don't bitch at me. I got the damn thing here, didn't I? Not to mention the drums. And let me tell you, those were a ring-tailed son of a bitch, they really were. And expensive! You'd never believe what Yaroslavich had to pay for those fifty-five gallon drums, not to mention what's in them."

Bernie decided yelling at Cass wouldn't help. But, the car! What had happened to the car? "Look at those dents, man. It looks like someone took a baseball bat to it."

"More like baseballs." Cass demonstrated with his hands, making a circle of his fingers. "Big freaking hunks of ice the size of your fist. Nothing I could do, either, Bernie boy, not a damn thing. I tried. Even brought some blankets, but I only had enough to protect the glass. Figured that would be hard to replace. Besides, you can beat out the dents. You know that. Remember what the car looked like back when you bought it?"

"It sort of was a mess, wasn't it." Bernie grinned. "What the hell, you're right. We can fix it, probably. And I'm happier than you know to have fifty-five gallons of gas, I promise you. And motor oil. That's a bonus I didn't expect."

Cass smirked. "I told Brandy. I told her and that Vlad the same thing. 'It's not going to do any good if you just send the car,' I said. 'You've got to send some gas and oil.' It cost Vlad a bundle, Bernie. But he did it. And there's a whole pile of boxes in the wagons, too. Everything anybody could think of to send you is in a box or wrapped up in the trunk of the car. Brandy hit every garage sale and junk sale she could to find stuff to send you. And books – you'll never believe the books. Piles of them."

Bernie grinned. "Great. We need every one we can find. Come on. Let's go get the introductions over with. Things are kind of formal around here, Cass. You need to watch your step. Just follow my lead and things will probably be okay."

"Natalia Petrovna Yaroslavicha, may I introduce, Cass Lowry. Cass, this is Vlad's sister, Natalia Petrovna. And this is her aunt, Madame Sofia Yaroslavich."

Bernie thought he'd done a credible job on the introduction until Cass opened his big mouth.

"If you're Vlad's sister, why isn't your name Natasha? That's what Brandy said, Natasha."

Bernie sort of kicked Cass in the ankle and made a face at him. "I'll explain later." It came out as a hiss. "Just say hello, would you? And be polite, damn it."

Cass glared a bit, but nodded. "Ma'am, I'm pleased to meet you. I did bring a load of letters for you. They're from your brother and Brandy. And there are some presents, too. They're in one of the boxes."

Natasha nodded graciously. "My thanks. We appreciate your trouble and invite you to share our hospitality at the Dacha for a while. Vladimir Petrovich was pleased that you accepted his commission."

"Yeah, well, I stung him pretty good on the fee." Cass snickered. Bernie knew there was going to be trouble sooner or latter. Cass was acting like he was still up-time and still a football star.

"Natalia Petrovna, we will take our leave of you for the moment," Bernie said. "My friend and I need to have a talk. If you will excuse us?"

Natasha inclined her head. "Certainly, Bernie. Perhaps we shall see you and Cass at dinner?" Bernie suppressed a groan. Cass, Natasha, dinner… what was wrong with that combination? Bernie didn't want to think about it.

Dinner, to say the most he could about it, was strained. Cass seemed to be playing the part of "the ugly American" to the hilt. Bernie was seriously considering knocking him out. Soon. Maybe twice.

"Yeah," Cass was saying, "winding up back here before the world got civilized was sort of hard. Wars all over the damn place, the food sucks, and there's all this religious bullshit, too." The religious bullshit, in the form of Father Pter Stephanovich, was having dinner with them. Pete was a nice guy. "Every time you turn around someone is in your face about religion. Who freaking cares, I ask you? Who freaking cares?" Pete cared. Bernie knew that.

Natasha's face was cold as she regarded Cass. "Indeed. And are you Americans godless? I have had one of those 'hamburgers' you speak of. Bernie built a 'charcoal grill' and cooked them for us. Quite frankly, I do not find that they are particularly appetizing."

Cass leered a bit, and Bernie was more and more sure he was going to have to hit him. Then Cass laughed raucously and snorted beer up his nose.

When all the spewing and coughing was finally over, Bernie looked at Cass. He was pretty drunk. "I think I've had enough, Cass. I'm going to crash. You ready?"

Cass was a little bleary from the vodka he had consumed, but wasn't ready for sleep, apparently. "No, dude. I don't think so. You go on. I'll just keep the lady company."

Natasha's already cold face froze. Bernie could see it happening. "I, myself, am quite tired. You gentlemen feel free to enjoy… whatever it is that you enjoy. Until the morning, then." Natasha rose and swept from the room, casting a telling glance over her shoulder. Aunt Sofia's glance was even more telling.

Bernie got the message. Cass had to learn to behave properly.

"That one will get himself killed," Vladislav Vasl'yevich murmured. "Soon, I expect."

"Not by us, though, and preferably not in Russia. Let some other nation do the world the service." Natasha agreed with his assessment. Cass Lowry was a barbarian. "I know he's already said things that would be reason for a duel. Certainly most would already have been punished for those remarks. But the czar will want to meet him, just as he met Bernie and Russia needs what he knows. Vladislav Vasl'yevich, we need to avoid any incident. You'll have to restrain yourself and your men."

"At least Bernie did not intentionally insult. This one, though." Vladislav shook his head ruefully. "He is a different type of man. He thinks himself a boyar's son, protected by his father's position. He seems to think that everyone in Muscovy is a peasant."

Cass was a bit drunk. Not much, just enough to take the edge off. He was wondering what the fuck was Bernie's problem. Had the little shit gone native? Could have happened, he figured. Bernie had been all alone with a bunch of down-time barbs for over a frigging year. "What is your problem, man? They're just down-timers. They need us, we don't need them. Ain't you figured that out yet? Hell, even up-time kids are getting rich."