Admiral Welk stopped talking, so Gwen decided to add in what she'd mentioned to Mrs. Vernor earlier, figuring that these people might appreciate the thought.
“When I got up this... well not morning, mid-afternoon to tell the truth, my Mother wanted to know why I was coming out again to help here today, since we have plenty of money and won't be going hungry if a single location loses a little business because the ships don't have power. I told her that was great for us, but reminded her that some of the good, hardworking people here lived closer to the bone, that they and their families could face hardship if these goods didn't move. Not just our personal friends here at the airfield, but loaders at other ports, drivers for the lorrie-wagons, chargers working at other ports that won't have as much work because goods aren't moving from here. The women that have to scrape to make ends meet mending the clothes and doing the wash for those loaders, drivers and yes, even chargers, would have an even harder time if we didn't do our part.” This was total grandstanding she knew, but good relations with these people mattered. She hadn't realized that Vernor Shipping was quite as big as it turned out to be. After all, the Admiral was here and had his own fleet of nine ships. Apparently his job was bigger than just that. Much bigger.
“You know what she did then? She called up the sledge driver for me and sent me off to come and try to help where I can, and is planning on coming out to help again herself tomorrow. Even Father's been out here working, charging crystals with his own effort! My Cousin Reg has been here as well and I know that the Admiral spent hours doing the same. We aren't doing this to get rich or even stay rich. We're doing it for people like you, people that actually do the work that makes the world run. I don't think any of you need to worry about me pitching in during an emergency to help out anyway.”
Barbara, the second in command looked down at the bleeding and shaking man that had started to get to his feet, muttering about fucking the bitch up.
“Excuse me, but I don't think I understand... who are you exactly?” The small woman, who didn't seem to be shaking visibly now that she realized that they didn't intend to attack anyone that wasn't actively trying to hurt them.
“I'm Katherine Vernor.”
The little man on the ground stared at her and blanched.
“Oh fuck.”
Chapter thirty-one
The little man had repeated the word fuck over and over again for about five minutes, then demanded she prove who she was. Gwen didn't have any photo I.D. on her, that not being important in this world, not even drivers had to have it she'd been told, just a certificate that proved they passed driver's schooling. She had some, her travel papers, safely tucked away at the Vernors', but really hadn't expected to tell anyone about Katherine Vernor at all that day. The issue was decided shortly, when Smitty ran to get something and came back with a newspaper that had a picture of her working in the soup kitchen on it.
Gloria glared at him.
“You knew?” She asked, venom in her voice.
“Don't get too mad, Gloria, I asked him not to tell you when he figured it out, so that I'd know if my own work measured up or not. I didn't want to be judged on a name, you know?” Oddly enough this seemed to mollify the brawny woman, at least for the moment. No doubt she'd hear about it later.
Finally she asked if they really needed to be holding weapons on the crowd, since they didn't seem to want to lynch anyone anymore. The Admiral told her that he thought it would be fine for them to get ready to leave soon.
“Besides,” Gwen added to the union representative. The good one, not the bleeding and angry man that looked ready to hit her still. “This work, what I did and will be doing unless you have people that can step in, isn't actually a loss to any of you. They make the run and come back, needing full charges again. If the roads clear, you get the work, if not, I do it. No matter what, when the roads clear, when you'd be doing the work anyway, you get it. The only difference is in the money generated in the meantime, if the ships work. Keeping hundreds of people housed and fed. As far as that goes, you also get a steady stream of smaller charges coming in from the maneuvering engines that you wouldn't be getting during the same time if the ships couldn't go out. You actually make more money with me here working than if we just let things sit.” The woman, Barbara, seemed to get it instantly, but the tiny man, who Barbara informed them was named Frank Britain, didn't seem to see it that way. He did admit that they couldn't do anything about a full family member of the owner charging the crystals though.
It seemed finished to Gwen, but the Admiral and Smitty didn't seem to think so, closing on Frank. Smitty had borrowed a wrench from Gloria for the purpose, obviously with her permission, since it was one of her big ones that belonged to her personally. It even had her name on it, right there on the handle. There was a little daisy painted by her name in yellow.
The small man looked around in panic for his people, but all of the men had looked away and started to leave the building when they noticed what was about to happen. Barbara stood by, looking nervous, but not knowing what to do. Gwen just laughed and walked over to the now shaking man.
“Look, Mr. Britain... We got off on the wrong foot here, I think. Instead of this situation going in directions none of us want, how about we all part friends instead and call it a day? No reason not to and every reason to, I think, since you seem like an important man and all, someone that we'd like to have as a friend here.”
This sounded reasonable, and even Smitty looked like he'd pull back if the man just left then, though the Admiral didn't. Frank decided that he wanted to fight again, something she'd seen before too. Even with blood still seeping from his nose, still seeing stars, he couldn't believe he'd been beaten. Even men had this happen to them, but she'd learned over the years that some men would never admit to being beaten by a girl. The only way to stop them from coming back, she knew, was to hurt them so badly that they couldn't.
“I don't think so, you fucking whore! If it weren't for your family's money you'd be working the streets sucking cock. I'll find you and fuck you up, you piece of filth! Your ass isn't worth the mops and shovels that they'll need to scrap you off the street. I'd fuck you first, but I don't want my prick to be so dishonored!” He kept screaming for a while, finally after a few minutes, Gwen asked Barbara to have everyone come back in please. The woman nodded fearfully and went to get them.
The little man kept screaming, a very interesting pattern of veins formed on his head while everyone came back in. Even the crew of the Peregrine had come to watch the scene, Groundling holding something by his leg on the third deck that looked suspiciously like one of the crins they'd had earlier. She didn't doubt he knew how to use it. She caught his eye, held up one finger and shook her head, hoping he understood not to fire. She'd really had enough of this guy already, but wanted to try a few things first, before ending this in a more violent fashion. That it would end that way, with force, she didn't doubt for an instant, but there were things to try first, if only to know for certain she'd actually done her bit for peace and all that.
She asked Gloria, who'd come to stand beside her if she could borrow her wrench for a bit. The woman smiled wickedly and nodded. She held out a hand to Smitty who raised his eyebrows but handed the heavy tool over to her.
“Now, everyone, I want you to hear me. Can everyone hear me? Mr. Britain, I apologize for any misunderstanding or incidents that may have angered you and hope we can be friends in the future. I understand you're angry right now, but perhaps you'll see things differently later? Can't we simply be friends?” She smiled, trying to make it seem friendly, or at least not angry.
The little man kept screaming, making several threats of death and rape in a row, she didn't think he meant the rape parts from the way he phrased them. People yelled strange things when they're angry, she knew, it had happened to her a time or two in the past herself. She remembered threatening to screw a man with a chicken once, even though she had no clue what that had been supposed to mean.
Finally she asked everyone to step back.
“Everyone heard me ask him to be friends? Heard me apologize for any misunderstandings? Everyone realizes that I've been trying to get him to leave for, what, five minutes now, ten? So that these others don't beat him to death?”
The crowd murmured assent to all this.
“Good. One last chance then. Mr. Britain, won't you please at least consider not attacking me right now or at some other date? Even if you don't wish to calm down or be friends? Even if you want to come back and yell at me later? Call me names and all that? I promise we'll let you leave unharmed and forget this ever happened if you just leave now.”
A man near the front of the crowd, an older fellow, looked her dead in the eye then and nodded, possibly seeing the truth in her words.
“Witnessed,” he called out. Several others echoed him, including the Admiral, to her surprise.
Several people from the Chargers Union told the man flat out to leave well enough alone, that the girl was being more than fair and that he hurt their position by acting like this. Everything said seemed to make the man even more angry.
“Alright then. I've done what I can here.” Gwen took a step toward him, leaving about ten feet between them, then she set the wrench on the smooth concrete and slid it across to him with her left foot. Then she calmly took a fighting stance.
“I just want you to know, Mr. Britain, Frank... I'm really sorry about this.” The thing was, as frustrated and angry as she felt with the moron in front of her, she really was.
He picked up the wrench fast and rushed her, swinging with it in his left hand, his right arm still hurting from the arm lock she'd had him in no doubt. She blocked easily, kicking him in the left knee with her heavy work boot, reaching underneath the arm and grabbing the wrench with her left hand, then twisting out of his grasp. She let him have the butt of it in the chin, which took him down to his knees.
Then she handed the wrench back to Gloria with her thanks.
She rushed him, pretending she intended to punch him, kicking him hard in the stomach when he covered his head with his arms. He pulled forward in a sudden spasm of pain, gasping for breath. She wrapped her right arm around his neck as she slid in behind him, her right hand finding the inside of her left elbow, then locked it all in place behind the man's head. The move felt odd to her, and she realized that due to their similar sizes, for the first time in her life she was getting to put this hold on someone correctly, which let the move lock into place far more easily than she ever remembered doing, then she laid back, the man on top of her, wrapping her legs around him, digging her heels into his inner thighs so he couldn't just roll out of it.
He scrabbled at her arms, her heavy sleeve protecting her from fingernails, eventually, after several minutes, he passed out, since no blood could get to his brain. Or at least too little to keep him awake. Then she shifted from this position, so she could grab his left arm, using leverage she applied force to the elbow until she heard it pop loudly. Then she did the same to the right. When she moved to the right leg, placing it in a figure four made of her own legs, he woke up and screamed as the tendons tore in his knee.