roruna (roruna) wrote in roads_diverged, @ 2009-03-18 18:47:00 |
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Prologue:
Sergeant Vimes was sitting shotgun in the humvee while Corporal Scurrick drove. The Independent forces had just taken this area from the
When Vimes woke up, he was surrounded by whiteness. The right side of his face felt like it was on fire but the rest of his body… He couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t move. He tried to keep his breathing steady and not panic. “You were given a sedative so you wouldn’t wrench your spine when you woke up. It’ll wear off soon enough and then you’ll wish it hadn’t.” Said a female voice to his left. He tried to turn his head but couldn’t quite manage it. He heard the creak of a chair as a weight was lifted off it and then the woman was leaning over him slightly. Ministering angel. Vimes thought. She wasn’t very attractive or young. She was about his age and a little on the chubby side. But the last woman he’d seen was Corporal Zoë Alleyne who was bad for most men’s mental health.
“My name is Sybil Ramkin.” She said cheerfully. “You got a nasty cut over your right eye. We sewed you up and you should still have a working eye. You have some cracked ribs and a few other broken bones. You were lucky.” Vimes would have nodded if he could move his neck. One minute, he’d been riding along with Scurrick and the next minute there’d been an explosion. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that they’d driven over a landmine. They had been lucky to end up here. “Where’s Scurrick?” He asked desperately. “Corporal Scurrick is in intensive care right now. He… wasn’t as lucky as you.” She hesitated then said, “You’re his sergeant?” Vimes was about to nod again. “Yes.” Sybil relaxed a little. Then her demeanor was all professional. “He has some broken bones and a concussion but the real problem is… well, shrapnel just gets everywhere doesn’t it? He’s got a piece of mental in his stomach.”
Her demeanor suggested that there were about a dozen things that Scurrick could die of right now and the doctors had to proceed with extreme caution. Vimes decided not to say anything. He didn’t really trust doctors but he realized that he was completely and utterly powerless. He couldn’t even move right now never mind help Scurrick. In a quiet voice he said, “You’ll tell me what’s going on with him?” Sybil leaned forward and patted Vimes’ hand gently. “Of course. Now you might as well get some more sleep. You’re going to be with us for awhile.” Two days later, Sybil told Vimes that Scurrick had bled to death. Vimes wondered why he didn’t go spare. He certainly went spare in New Kashmir when Curry bit into that griswald apple. He even gave the first purple belly prisoner he caught after that a little nudge.
Nothing too bad, but that lad was certainly going to remember what he did whenever winter rolled around. So why wasn’t he going spare now? The anger should be swallowing him up by now. But he didn’t feel angry. He didn’t feel anything. It must be the shock. Soon enough he’d be angry. Soon enough he’d be despondent. It would have been better if he hadn’t had to stay in the Red Cross’ makeshift hospital. When Maroon and Curry had died, he wasn’t able to wallow. He stepped over their corpses, killed the bastard what killed them and took care of his other lads. But sitting and eating and sleeping calmly with no one to look after, Vimes had plenty of time to dwell on Scurrick and even the other lads that died. He hadn’t joined for the nobility of the cause. Whether under Independent or
But some of the younger coppers had got it into their heads that the
On some level, Vimes wondered if it was sick. The highlight of his day was when Sybil changed his bandages or brought him his meals. It was hopelessly old-fashioned really and probably perfectly natural. Of course, he wasn’t the only patient to get attached to his nurse. This was a war and even if it wasn’t supposed to happen, the aid and comfort didn’t always stop at medical care and food. The weeks passed and the Red Cross needed the room so Vimes was finally going back to the front. He was relieved actually. “Now you can go back to your Carrot.” Sybil had said. Vimes blinked. “My Carrot?” Sybil smiled. “Your lad, Carrot. That’s all you’ve talking about for weeks. How he’s your lad and you should be out there keeping an eye on him and how anything could be happening to him… It’s rather romantic really.”
“Ro— what?” Vimes gaped. Sybil smiled in what she thought was a disarming way. “Romantic. You told me that he and some of the lads in your old police department enlisted and you joined up right after Carrot did. I just thought that it was very romantic that you followed your lad into war.” Vimes hesitated. First of all, following someone into battle stops being romantic like five minutes into the battle… He blinked. I think you need to be more offended at her assuming that Carrot is your boyfriend and not that she thinks it’s romantic. He cleared his throat and said firmly, “I ain’t sly. I like women.” Then he added, “To just assume that because two people are close that must mean they’re in love is an insult to the wide and varied range of human emotion.” There was a long silence. Sybil nodded feeling a little ashamed of herself. “Yes, of course. I apologize if I offended you.”
Vimes got the feeling that she didn’t quite believe him and was just dropping the subject because she didn’t want to embarrass him further. “I ain’t sly.” He said again. Sybil nodded but didn’t look at him. He thought he detected just a hint of a smile. “Shall I prove it to you?” He asked. It was machismo. That’s really the only explanation. His masculinity had been questioned and there are only a few ways for a man to deal with that. He can either be mature, ignore the claim, secure in the knowledge of his own achievements or as more often happens he’ll do something, usually something stupid, to provide proof of his prowess. He kissed her. In truth, he’d wanted to kiss her for weeks and was pleasantly surprised when not only did she not push him away, but she kissed him back. She pulled back suddenly. “So… you and Carrot aren’t together?”
Vimes sighed. “No, godsdammit.” Sybil paused and then asked, “And you’re not married?” She was probably going down some mental checklist, Vimes told himself. He shook his head. “Nope, never. You?” Sybil shook her head. Then she regarded him a little skeptically. “Why didn’t you ever get married?” Vimes considered replying with ‘why didn’t you?’ but different words came out automatically. “I was a copper back in the world and most women don’t marry a man that could get killed every time he goes to work.” Sybil nodded slowly and seemed to be satisfied. Vimes waited in case there were going to be any more questions. She kissed him again and stumbling a little, they went to bed.
The Unification War continued and then it was over. Carrot and Vimes sat in the large transport ship headed for HQ. Some of the other men were seething with rage. The Independents had surrendered. The
But when they got home they learned about politics. They learned that politics were full of traps for honest men. The war was over but martial law was still in place and of course there would be some prior Independent soldiers that wouldn’t accept the surrender. Some might form insurgency groups. Some would become extremists and they needed to be dealt with by people that wouldn’t sympathize with these criminals. The Ankh-Morpork police department was put in the command of the
So it came as quite a surprise to Nobby Nobbs, old Fred Colon and Detritus when they were given the sack. Fred handled it well enough. He and his wife left Ankh-Morpork and went to live with their children. Some of them had fought in the war and some hadn’t but either way, they needed to help each other out. Nobby and Detritus were having a bit more trouble adjusting. “That Rust is a right idiot. Sacking everyone that was already there. Do any of his lads know how to fly a bloody helicopter?” Nobby asked. Probably not. “What we gunna do now den?” Detritus rumbled. “Get new jobs.” Carrot said flatly. The little group nodded. Well that was obvious. They needed new jobs. Detritus and Nobby might be able to find work closer to the Core or maybe further out in the Rim.
The Rim planets would probably hire anyone except… “Right and what are we going to do, Carrot?” Vimes asked nastily. “Well, get new jobs too, Mister Vimes.” Carrot said cheerfully. “Just like that? Who’s going to hire us? We’re Browncoats. The
A few months passed. All the jobs they’d found were always over almost as soon as they started. Mostly they were cargo hauling jobs. Although Nobby had gotten a few jobs driving mules and skiffs. What a sad sight they were. Four grown men, sharing a small flat near the docks because it was close to work and all they could afford. They probably would have murdered each other if it wasn’t for the fact that they worked around the clock and were too tired to do anything but sleep when they got to their flat. It was four in the morning and for once they were all together. Detritus slumped forward, his head resting on the cheap wooden table. Only Carrot hadn’t been drinking that night. Vimes poured himself another glass of what they affectionately called ‘sheep liniment’. He spilled some on the table. It ate away at the finish. “Do you know who I saw today?” Carrot said cheerfully. There wasn’t a power in the ‘Verse that could stop Carrot from being cheerful.
The others shook their heads and continued staring at nothing. “I saw Sergeant Reynolds and Corporal Alleyne today.” Vimes groaned. “Carrot, the war’s over. No one’s a sergeant or a corporal anymore.” Carrot nodded brightly. “You’re right there, sir. Mal’s a captain now. Zoë said that he saved up and bought himself a ship. A Firefly. They named it Serenity. It’s very pretty, sir. They’re doing freelance transporting now and they’ve even got a little crew together.” Vimes snorted. “Good for them.” He said eventually. Meanwhile, I’m schlepping crates around all day for bastards I ought to toss in the cells and I can’t even afford decent booze. Once upon a time, Vimes would have arrested a little dog’s jībā like Badger as soon as he saw him… once upon a time, he had actually, back home on Dyton. Instead he was bowing gratefully whenever he threw him and his lads a bone. He was not in the mood to hear about good things happening to other people.
He became aware that Carrot had still been talking. “… And I found out that for about a month’s rent of this place, we could have one of our own. So what do you lads think?” Vimes sat up straight and watched Nobby and Detritus’ expressions. They were watching him and waiting to see what he thought. “What?” He said after a long and uncomfortable silence. Carrot maintained his cheery smile and said, “I went to the impound lot and for the cost of a month’s rent, we could buy our own ship.” In a calm that Vimes didn’t actually possess at the moment he said, “Oh I see. Well that’s a very interesting idea, Carrot. And what exactly are we supposed to do once we buy some piece of shǐ dàn from an impound lot?”
Nobby raised a finger unsteadily. “That’s no way to think, sir… It would be our piece of shǐ dàn.” He snickered. Vimes rolled his eyes. “I dare say we’d have more room than we have here but there is such a thing as docking fees. What’s the point in owning a ship?” Carrot’s smile waned a little. “I didn’t mean for us to live on the ship… I mean, we would live on the ship but I thought maybe we could do what Zoë and Mal are doing. We could transport cargo. We’d own a business, sir.” Vimes stared at Carrot. “Carrot, we’re coppers. We don’t know anything about running a business or a spaceship and even if we did, the only kind of ship you’ll find in an impound lot is a piece of go se that hasn’t been stripped for parts yet.”
“I’ve heard that in business the important thing is to know somebody and we know lots of people in the transport business, sir.” Smugglers, Carrot. The people we know are smugglers. Vimes opened his mouth to say the words and then Carrot, quite oblivious that Vimes was going to speak, interrupted. “And we don’t have to just transport cargo, sir. We could take on passengers and maybe rent a room out to someone who does a lot of traveling for business. And we could fix the ship up ourselves, sir. Not all the ships are impounded because they don’t work. Some have been seized by the
Carrot looked up at Vimes attentively. He nodded periodically as if Vimes was giving a lesson. Vimes panicked a moment. Carrot was doing that thing again. Whenever Carrot got an idea into his head, he always found a way of getting other people to see his point of view. Actually that wasn’t exactly right. Carrot had thought that if there were planets that wanted to govern themselves the
And now Carrot wanted to get a ship and travel the black. Vimes took a final swig of ‘sheep liniment’ and then said. “I’ve got to be back at the docks in a couple of hours. I’m going to bed.” He stumbled into the room that he and Carrot shared and climbed into the top bunk. He’ll do it anyway. Vimes thought as he drifted in and out of sleep. Once Carrot gets an idea there’s no changing his mind. He’ll save up and he’ll buy a ship and he’ll be Captain Carrot and if he’s very lucky, he’ll enter a life of crime. If he’s unlucky the real criminals will cut out his tongue for being uppity. He doesn’t know anything about running a business and he doesn’t know anything about running a ship. He’s going to end up dead. Either some competition will kill him or his ship will blow up or sink or whatever it is that ships do when they don’t work properly. Vimes did not spend the last few years causing breaches of the peace to let that happen.
Now hold on a minute. Carrot is not some helpless little boy. He’s an adult. Vimes had spent at least six weeks in the hospital and Carrot was just fine when he got out wasn’t he? Of course he was. He’d be fine. He’d get Nobby to pilot and no one crosses Detritus. There was probably some out of work Browncoat mechanic around the docks who’d be more than happy to work with Carrot if it meant his own bunk. And not all the transport jobs in the ‘Verse were illegal. There were legitimate jobs out there. Ok, so what about you, Vimesy? When Carrot, Nobby and Detritus leave this rock in search of a better life, what will you do? Stay here unloading cargo? You can’t afford this crappy flat alone. You’d have to find some new roommates. They’ll be people you don’t know and probably won’t like.
The basic question that hovered over Vimes’ head was this, did he really want to spend the rest of his life living like this? Vimes heard Carrot open the door quietly. The door creaked as he shut it and the click of the knob was deafening in the thoughtful silence. Vimes heard steps and then there was the squeak of the old bed springs of the bottom bunk compressing under Carrot’s weight. “Good night, sir.” Carrot said in his trademark loud whisper. Vimes threw his arms up. “All right, we’ll get a ship! Are you happy now? Just stop nagging me!”