Out of This World. Lawrence Watt-Evans
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“Or Republican, depending. We have a county executive, not an earl.”
Raven and Valadrakul exchanged glances. Pel looked at the others; Stoddard was staring straight ahead, paying no attention to anything so far as Pel could determine, while Squire Donald was studying the shelves beside him, fascinated, and might or might not be listening.
For the first time Pel noticed that Nancy wasn’t in the room; he turned, and saw Rachel watching from the door to the kitchen. Listening, he could hear Nancy moving about in the kitchen.
“Why call it a county, an there’s no count?” Raven asked, annoyed. “Neither earl nor countess, then where’s the county? Why not call it a shire?”
Pel shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “We do have a sheriff, I think, so yeah, shire would make more sense, but we call ‘em counties anyway.”
Raven waved it away. “It matters not a whit, then, who rules here, save that you understand your county police have taken prisoner the ten Imperials who came hither. And yes, their ship fell, and could not fly in your skies.”
Nancy leaned through the kitchen doorway and called, “Would anyone like a beer? Or anything? I can put the kettle on if you’d like tea or coffee.”
Stoddard turned a questioning look at Raven; Squire Donald glanced up from the bookshelves. Raven looked around quickly at all his companions, then up at Nancy.
“Beer would be most welcome, good lady, and our thanks.”
Nancy nodded and disappeared.
“All right,” Pel said, “so the cops picked up these Imperial stormtroopers. Why wasn’t it on the news? It’s not every day a bunch of people from outer space crash-land around here.”
“I know not,” Raven said, turning up an empty palm. “Perchance whoever retails your news has not yet learned of it.”
Pel considered that. If a spaceship really had landed, the government might try to hush it up—but he would be surprised if they actually managed it. He had never bought the Hangar 19—or 18, or whatever the number was—stories for a minute.
“Where’d it land?” he asked.
Raven looked at Valadrakul, who turned up his hands and said, “How are we to know the name of the place? It lies perhaps half a day’s journey to the north, traveling on foot.”
“But it’s in Montgomery County?”
“That, or your shiremen crossed the border.”
If the ship had come down somewhere out toward the Howard County line, that might explain how it had stayed off the TV news, so far; there was still a good bit of fairly empty countryside up that way, as Pel knew from driving the back roads to Baltimore on occasion.
“What are they charged with? I mean, why were they arrested?” he asked.
“The charges we were told are trespassing and vandalism,” Valadrakul replied. “I fear we have no such word as ‘vandalism’ in our tongue, so we know not what it means.”
“It means wrecking things just for fun,” Pel explained.
The story didn’t sound quite right to him; why would the county cops arrest a bunch of aliens on charges like that? Why weren’t the feds all over the place?
Then an explanation occurred to him, one which made the whole thing make sense, including the fact that the news media had not reported anything.
“They don’t think it’s real, do they?” he asked.
“Your pardon, sir, but what do you say?” Raven replied.
“Nobody thinks the spaceship is real,” Pel said. “Whoever found it thinks it’s a hoax, right?”
“Indeed,” Valadrakul answered, “you may have the truth of it; our reports cannot tell us everything, but ‘tis hinted your constables think the crewmen mad. Certes, they do not accept them as envoys.”
Raven turned to the wizard. “You’d said naught of that to me,” he said, clearly irritated. “I had thought the captors mad, not the prisoners!”
“My apologies,” Valadrakul said, bowing his head. “There was much to tell, and in my haste...” He turned up a palm.
“I’d like to see these guys,” Pel said.
“Guys?” Donald said, looking up.
“A gnomish word,” Valadrakul told him. “From a trickster of days agone, one Guiler by name, called Guy o’ the Mews, who was famed for harassing the little folk.”
This bizarre false etymology caught Pel’s attention for a moment, distracting him.
Just then Nancy stepped in with a tray, carrying five foaming beer mugs. “I didn’t think cans would go over well,” she said to Pel.
The entire conversation seemed to be going in half a dozen directions at once, and Pel was becoming thoroughly confused. Reversing his earlier decision, he sat down on the edge of the stereo cabinet. “Fine,” he told Nancy.
She smiled, not very confidently, and handed Raven a mug. He thanked her, as Pel wondered where she had found five beer mugs, since he only remembered owning four. Taking another look, he realized that the fifth was actually a small vase that they never used. It was about the right size and shape, though it lacked a handle.
She handed the vase to Stoddard, who nodded his head in polite acknowledgement.
Valadrakul and Donald accepted their mugs gratefully, and Pel himself took the last. He held it without drinking while the others sampled the brew.
He could tell they weren’t impressed, but that wasn’t anything he cared about just now.
“Let me see if I have this straight,” he said. “The Galactic Empire sent a ship, with ten men aboard, to make contact with our government—in Washington, I guess?”
He glanced at Valadrakul, who made a sort of one-handed shrug while sipping beer with the other.
“They found out the hard way that some of the machinery doesn’t work here, and the ship crashed, somewhere north of here, but still in Montgomery County. Right so far?”
Raven nodded.
“Then the county police came and arrested them all for trespassing,” Pel continued, “and hauled them away somewhere—the county jail in Rockville, probably.”
Valadrakul nodded this time.
“And they’re still there, and the cops think they’re crazy, they don’t believe any of this stuff about spaceships and galactic empires.”
No one objected to any of that.
“All right,” Pel said, “I’ve got all that—so what are you people doing here?”
Raven put down his beer—what little was left of it. Pel noticed that Nancy was collecting an empty vase from Stoddard. “More?” she asked.
He nodded, and she slipped away to the kitchen.
“The Empire,” Raven explained, “has given up their men as lost—aye, and the lady, as well, for the ship had a woman aboard. The man who has charge of the matter has decided against any attempt at rescue, or any further expedition hither. Thus, these ten are abandoned, at the mercy of their captors. ‘Tis a coward’s decision, say I, but ‘tis made, nonetheless.”
Pel nodded.
“The thought came to us,” Raven continued, “that perhaps we might find a use for these abandoned men, ourselves. They might tell us much about the Galactic Empire. We might find a worthy ransom, should we offer to send them home. Failing all else, we could at the least find ourselves with nine more brave men in our fight against the creatures of Shadow.”
“And a woman,” Pel added.