Read Online We Had Flags (Toxic World Book 3) by Sean McLachlan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sean McLachlan
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Grudgingly the crowd began to move.
Satisfied that his guards and what passed for law enforcement in the Burbs would take care of crowd control, The Doctor looked back through his binoculars and made a slow sweep from prow to stern.
On the prow, in new white paint, something was written in an Asian language. It didn’t look Korean. He’d seen enough Korean to know their writing had a lot of circles. This was mostly made up of sweeping lines.
Japanese? Thai? He didn’t know. Had they really come from across the ocean?
Passing along the boat, the next thing he saw was an artillery piece mounted on the foredeck. A crew in identical white uniforms and caps stood at attention next to it, but the gun faced forward, not at them.
He bit his lip. If that thing worked and wasn’t just a bluff, they were fucked. Nothing in New City’s arsenal could match the range of an artillery piece. Well, maybe the DShK-4, but they’d used the last of the heavy machine gun’s ammo staving off the Righteous Horde.
He continued to scan the deck. A group of sailors in the same uniform as the gun crew clustered around a large rowboat that was being lowered by a pair of small cranes over the side. Everyone seemed to be Asian.
They really are from over the ocean, The Doctor thought, awe tingling every nerve ending.
The rowboat touched the water and the crew unhitched it from the cranes.
“Doc,” Clyde said. “We should get out of sight in the hills. If they decide to use that gun…”
“They seemed more inclined to talk.”
A disturbance in the line of guards between him and the shore made him look. A sour-faced man in filthy clothing, his skin covered in a harsh rash, was arguing with some of the guards.
“Let me through. One mayor should be able to talk to another without you assholes getting in the way!” he shouted.
“Who’s that?” The Doctor asked.
“Oscar, he runs the village on the shore there,” Clyde said.
“Oh, right. Keep him and his people out of the way.”
“Hey!” Oscar objected. “This is our bay and we have trading rights with them.”
“You never claimed this bay,” The Doctor said. “Move it.”
The guards led him away and The Doctor, Clyde, and a small retinue moved to the shore. They passed through a filthy village, which his men quickly cleared of its people, and stood by the water as the rowboat headed for them. He noted that all the oarsmen, indeed all the crew on the ship, wore cloth masks and eye goggles.
Looks like they’ve dealt with polluted harbors before.
At the prow of the rowboat sat two men. One was an older Asian with gold braid on his shirt and cap. The other was a black man. The black man raised a hand, pulled his mask off, and called out to them, “Greetings from crew Admiral Zeng He ship! We come for yours!”
The words came out so heavily accented that it took a moment for The Doctor to process them.
“Come for ours, what does that mean?” Clyde said, fingering his M16.
“Everyone keep their guns down,” The Doctor ordered.
Taking a deep breath of clean air, he pulled off the mask. As the leader he needed to show his face.
The rowboat scraped up against the shore. The Doctor moved his men back a few paces. The black man steadied himself at the prow of the rowboat, gave the oily water a distasteful glance, and stepped onto the sand.
“Admiral Zeng He ship greets yours! You goods we want.”
The man with the gold braiding stepped off the boat, helped by a pair of sailors who kept him from ruining his white uniform in the polluted water. The rest of the crew followed. Tensions rippled along the line of The Doctor’s guards as each sailor retrieved a Kalashnikov from the bottom of the boat. When they saw the reaction, the Asian sailors hesitated, knuckles going white on the grips of their weapons.
“Calm down! Easy!” The Doctor called.
The man with the gold braiding shouted out something in a foreign language and the sailors spread out to make a line
Satisfied that his guards and what passed for law enforcement in the Burbs would take care of crowd control, The Doctor looked back through his binoculars and made a slow sweep from prow to stern.
On the prow, in new white paint, something was written in an Asian language. It didn’t look Korean. He’d seen enough Korean to know their writing had a lot of circles. This was mostly made up of sweeping lines.
Japanese? Thai? He didn’t know. Had they really come from across the ocean?
Passing along the boat, the next thing he saw was an artillery piece mounted on the foredeck. A crew in identical white uniforms and caps stood at attention next to it, but the gun faced forward, not at them.
He bit his lip. If that thing worked and wasn’t just a bluff, they were fucked. Nothing in New City’s arsenal could match the range of an artillery piece. Well, maybe the DShK-4, but they’d used the last of the heavy machine gun’s ammo staving off the Righteous Horde.
He continued to scan the deck. A group of sailors in the same uniform as the gun crew clustered around a large rowboat that was being lowered by a pair of small cranes over the side. Everyone seemed to be Asian.
They really are from over the ocean, The Doctor thought, awe tingling every nerve ending.
The rowboat touched the water and the crew unhitched it from the cranes.
“Doc,” Clyde said. “We should get out of sight in the hills. If they decide to use that gun…”
“They seemed more inclined to talk.”
A disturbance in the line of guards between him and the shore made him look. A sour-faced man in filthy clothing, his skin covered in a harsh rash, was arguing with some of the guards.
“Let me through. One mayor should be able to talk to another without you assholes getting in the way!” he shouted.
“Who’s that?” The Doctor asked.
“Oscar, he runs the village on the shore there,” Clyde said.
“Oh, right. Keep him and his people out of the way.”
“Hey!” Oscar objected. “This is our bay and we have trading rights with them.”
“You never claimed this bay,” The Doctor said. “Move it.”
The guards led him away and The Doctor, Clyde, and a small retinue moved to the shore. They passed through a filthy village, which his men quickly cleared of its people, and stood by the water as the rowboat headed for them. He noted that all the oarsmen, indeed all the crew on the ship, wore cloth masks and eye goggles.
Looks like they’ve dealt with polluted harbors before.
At the prow of the rowboat sat two men. One was an older Asian with gold braid on his shirt and cap. The other was a black man. The black man raised a hand, pulled his mask off, and called out to them, “Greetings from crew Admiral Zeng He ship! We come for yours!”
The words came out so heavily accented that it took a moment for The Doctor to process them.
“Come for ours, what does that mean?” Clyde said, fingering his M16.
“Everyone keep their guns down,” The Doctor ordered.
Taking a deep breath of clean air, he pulled off the mask. As the leader he needed to show his face.
The rowboat scraped up against the shore. The Doctor moved his men back a few paces. The black man steadied himself at the prow of the rowboat, gave the oily water a distasteful glance, and stepped onto the sand.
“Admiral Zeng He ship greets yours! You goods we want.”
The man with the gold braiding stepped off the boat, helped by a pair of sailors who kept him from ruining his white uniform in the polluted water. The rest of the crew followed. Tensions rippled along the line of The Doctor’s guards as each sailor retrieved a Kalashnikov from the bottom of the boat. When they saw the reaction, the Asian sailors hesitated, knuckles going white on the grips of their weapons.
“Calm down! Easy!” The Doctor called.
The man with the gold braiding shouted out something in a foreign language and the sailors spread out to make a line
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