milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Good God but Shephard missed getting out of the damn Greenbrier this past week. No offense to nobody but he's got no damn clue how those poor bastards on submarines can stand being locked up with each other in small spaces for so long.

There's a fair number of Xen predators that won't be eating anything Earth-born ever again thanks to his activity the past few days. There's also a good few chunks of soil missing from the region now, most of them about an inch across by six or seven inches deep, all of them labeled as neatly as that metal hand of his can manage. As far as water, well, this isn't a real good time for water per se; what he managed to bring back was frozen river ice.

(It's not all altruism for someone from an Earth more screwed than his. He spent about the same amount of time securing samples for his brother and the local scientists for testing to make the spring plantings easier when the time comes. If you're already up to your elbows in dirt, a little more won't hurt.)

Anyway, he sets the box of samples on the Bar, along with a tightly sealed package marked with various 'do not open this because it used to be alive and now it is squishy and drippy' emblems, along with the biohazard symbol. You learned to mark that kind of thing pretty clearly in HECU response training. Each individually wrapped sample in the package's been labeled by species, with as much information about the individual creature as Shephard was able to discern. "Mind givin' this to Dr. Augustine?" he says to the Bar. "She gits any questions 'bout any of this shit, tell her to come'n find me, I'll answer. I ain't gonna write her a book less'n I got to."

Mostly because he's got a book of his own to write. It's been a while since he sat down with the tablet Nepeta gave him and just let the silver hand write, so that's what he's gonna do- let his right hand write dead men's memoirs on its own while he watches the goings-on in the rest of the room.

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After sitting by the fire for a while, William is warmer and drier and hungry. On his way to get some food, he spots Adrian and just watches for a while.

Shephard glances up at some point and tips his beer bottle to William, though his other hand's still writing away. "Hey there," he says amiably.

"Is the hand controlling your writing?" That looks like it must be an odd feeling.

"Ain't my writing," says Shephard. "This's all the hand's work, not mine. I'm just holdin' the stick'n keepin' the arm steady. I don't even know what it's writin' just now, not till I look."

"Oh, why does it do it?"

He sits down at a free chair, but on the other side of Adrian's new hand. While he's dry, there's a stronger smell of cow around him than normal, the wrestling in the water made it stick.

"Well," says Shephard, "it's a long story, but-"

He thinks a minute.

"I tell you how I got this thing? I don't recall just at the moment."

"I don't think so, but I'm not sure. I remember when you lost it and that you were thinkin' of ways to replace it and then you had another big fight,"

It's just time's been strange and he can't remember if he's missed an explanation.

Shephard nods. "I got a friend here, Kreyu," he says. "Most of the time she looks like a damn pretty human lady, but she ain't. When she's bein' herself she's a fuckin' hunnert-fifty-foot-long dragon, and she's got a shitload of magic. 'Parently they got a fuck-ton of magic where she comes from.... anyways, she saw my arm'n wanted to fix it, only she couldn't do it no more by the time she got to me."

William blinks for a moment at the description, "Sounds sort of like Katya."

"Don't think I know that one," says Shephard. "Katya?"

"She's Russian, used to be blonde but now's she got brown hair and she's always wearin' jewelery and drinkin' vodka. Sometimes she's a tiger,"

At times, William is unsure why she bothers with him, but he's glad she does.

Shephard nods. Makes as much sense as anything else around here. "Introduce me to her someday," he says. "I ain't got near enough Russian cuss words for my liking... anyways, Kreyu couldn't fix my hand but she sure as fuck knew of an alternative. She up'n took me to her world'n we went lookin' for Elysium, where the Fair Folk live. I ain't talkin' bout the kind with the fuckin' butterfly wings or the kind that make toys for Santa Claus or shoes for old German assholes. These're somethin' else."

He got ragged on for going to the Land of the Fairies a while ago and it still kind of smarts. Fuck Voodoo, anyway.

"Had a shitload of trials'n mazes'n shit to git past but when we got there, one of 'em said he'd do the job if I'd do somethin' for him."

"I will. That reminds me, you hungry? I came in here to get dry then didn't get anything to eat. I know the sort you mean, where there's always a price,"

Katya's closer to them than anything that William's read about in a book, she has rules, but she always follows through.

"Wouldn't say no to a sandwich," says Shephard. "Thank you kindly. Yeah, there was a price all right. That fella was their master smith'n he don't make his work for cheap. Said they had a fuckin' enormous wild she-pig tearin' up the place. Damn fucker all but killed his son and tore up a couple other folks'n dogs in the process. He said if I wanted a hand he'd need me to go out'n kill that pokkelijder pig first, no help allowed but a dog to find it'n no armor or weapon but a shield for my bad arm'n a long knife for my good'un."

(Well. Sword. And it was one from Kreyu's hoard, and it had been the sword of Achilles once. But, uh... Bronze Age warriors were a fair deal smaller than modern Americans, and Achilles had been more of a spear man, so it was something of a short sword even to him- and thus a long knife to Shephard.)

"Damn, how hard was it?"

A rat goes by and William orders a sandwich for Adrian and some pelmeni for himself as he's been thinking about Katya.

"Four hundred pounds of pig with hide thick enough you could make real damn respectable leather armor out of it," says Shephard. "And I ain't left handed. I was damn lucky to have that dog along, I'll tell you."

"I'm glad it all worked out but hell, don't you ever have it simple?"

It seems like whenever Shephard tells him what's going on in his world, its never a small problem but something big and awful. It makes dealing with panicked and drowning cattle seem easy.

"Aw, this was a while ago," says Shephard. "These days 'bout the most complicated thing I got to deal with is three feet of mountain snow and a shitload of people who want to git outside."

"Still, you're always doin' a lot of good. That's a lot of snow. Don't get that much out our way, but we did just have to deal with a bad flash flood."

Shephard sucks a breath between his teeth; he's from holler country, and you don't fuck around with moving water there. "How bad'd it get?" he asks.

"Lost two cattle, only reason we didn't lose more was cause we were pushin' 'em back from the water all day. Some of 'em are bruised up, but didn't see any broken legs, least not yet. The water got down enough that we could rest. I don't want Mark gettin' sick from all the wet."

Shephard nods. "I ain't too good with cattle, or I'd say I'd come help," he says. "But you need anything else in the way of a hand, you let me know, all right?"

"I will. This was just a bad day. Usually we can manage everything on our own,"

It sometimes means they don't sleep enough but the ranch keeps running.

"Bad days happen. We had a hell of a flood when I was a boy. I do what I can about that kind of shit when I can, that's all."

"I know and we might end up needin' you. It gets hard to think of stoppin' and askin' for help when its all down to one cow that's stuck in the mud."

"Fair 'nough," says Shephard. "You ever do think of it, though, you know where to find me."

"I will. Thank you. Can I do anything to help with the cabin fever?"

The food arrives and William starts to dig in.

"Might help me make somethin' like a bowlin' ball out of fabric, cord, 'n scrap rubber," Shephard says. "We got some fuckin' long hallways at the Greenbrier'n we're gonna turn 'em into bowling alleys 'til it gits warmer."

"I could do that and I've got some books that I could let go of too. They've helped me through some bad winters. I'd be glad to stop by too, a different face can help a lot."

"I got to ask Ms. Vance about that first," says Shephard. "Folks're gonna wanna know where you came from'n I dunno how much we're telling some of 'em. I'll let you know, though."

"Course, I know what small towns are like. Everyone wants to know everything and if you don't tell 'em then they make up their own stories,"

Most of his fights have come up from people thinking they understand how some things happened.

"Yep. Don't worry none, I'll let you know," says Shephard. "Thanks for the offer, though."

"Alright, I've been gettin' a lot of doors so I'll be around here if you need me."

"I'll remember that," says Shephard. "One way or another."

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