by Jon Saboe
“The importance of a trans-polar route cannot be overestimated. It allows faster and shorter travel, and promotes commercial shipping which will certainly increase, using the routes and discoveries we are making for many years to come!”
He paused, and everyone knew it was for applause, which they obligingly gave.
“If anyone needs help understanding what I just said, they can ask Chief Navigator Peleg.”
All eyes turned to Peleg, who attempted an approving smile.
For the next three days, Peleg found himself giving refresher courses in spherical geometry.
“It’s cold!” exclaimed Serug. He shook the powdery white substance off of his hands.
Peleg had accompanied Thaxad and Serug on a short expedition to the base of one of the white-topped ridges nearby. The Urbat had anchored while men scoured the area for grains, roots, and whatever else could be found to increase their edible stores in this desolate land. There was some momentary excitement when someone had found some skeletal remains of a very large animal while digging for roots. The possibility of fresh animal meat meant that the dwindling stores of dried monkey and boar could be replenished. Plus, a good mammoth-roast would do wonders for morale. Unfortunately, it was soon determined that this poor beast had lost its life more than two hundred years ago—most certainly a victim of the Great Calamity.
Thaxad was determined to examine the white substance covering the distant mountains, and when this nearby ridge had presented itself, the three had set out to investigate.
They had taken extra blankets, and by the time they arrived at the foothills, they were all wearing them. Patches of the white substance could be seen covering the ground, increasing in frequency until the entire landscape in the distance was completely covered with brilliant whiteness and even difficult to look at.
“Of course it’s cold,” Peleg taunted. “Everything is cold, here.”
“I believe he means that it is even colder than the surrounding area,” offered Thaxad. “It must have properties, due to its color and obvious light density, that actually conducts heat from his hand.”
Serug nodded incomprehensibly. “Yes, I think that’s it.”
After a moments thought, he then proclaimed, “I think this stuff is šeg.”
“Nonsense,” said Thaxad. “Water congeals into a dense, dark blue form. Everyone knows that. Just like solidified iron—except in this case šeg would be solidified water.”
Serug grabbed another handful and closed his fingers around it, clenching the substance into his fist. His face contorted as the cold pierced his inner palms, ironically creating a burning sensation. With his eyes closed, he forced himself through the pain, refusing to let his fingers part.
Eventually, Serug opened his eyes and released his hand. Looking into his palm, they saw that the white material had disappeared—and it its place was a small puddle of clear liquid.
He tipped his head down and stuck his tongue into the liquid as Peleg shouted, “Serug!”
It was too late. The impetuous Serug smacked his lips and looked up at Thaxad.
“It’s water,” he declared, raising his eyebrows.
“Impossible,” Thaxad insisted. “If that were šeg, it would have melted into a much larger amount of water. This white material appears to have even less density than water, which completely disqualifies it as šeg.”
He looked at Serug patronizingly.
“Besides, how would all that water get to the top of mountains and just sit there? This material is certainly something else—and I would suggest you not taste any more of it.”
Serug lapped up what remained in his hand and looked at Peleg and grinned.
“Tasting is believing,” he intoned, with a quick look at Thaxad.
The tall Mentor grunted and glared at Serug.
“You know where you can go.”
That night was colder than any they had ever experienced. The scouts had discovered several patches of wild wheat, and had excitedly collected the kernels and brought them into the hold. Most men discovered the need for a third blanket, and since the only fire on board was in the galley, much of the crew spent the night drinking warm broth made from the recently discovered grain.
The next morning, the men returned to the shore in the dinghy, only to discover that there was a thin, crystalline film covering the water in the shallower areas, and it had to be broken with repeated blows from the oars before the men could pass through.
This created more conversations about ‘šeg’, but when Thaxad came to investigate, he again scoffed.
“If there is to be any šeg found here, it will be laying on the seabed where the cold and pressure are greatest. Like any solid, it would sink to the bottom due to its greater concentration.”
He glared at all of them.
“Leave chemistry to the chemists! When molten matter becomes solid, its density increases.”
Thaxad reached over the edge of the dinghy and punched through a small section of the frosty film. It cracked and he retrieved a jagged slice which he flung out over the water where it bobbed and floated along the contours of the gentle waves.
“Solid water would sink instantly!” He pointed triumphantly. “This material is certainly some kind of silicate or crystallized saline runoff caused by the cold climate.”
He thought for a second.
“It probably is leeched out of the soil.”
With that he nodded and demanded to be returned to the Urbat.
Three days later there was a thick cloud cover, but since the winds were still calm, Peleg was able to take a short survey in Zini.
Their passage was still taking them almost due south (according to his compass), but from his vantage point he could now see some land to the west. Towering red cliffs appeared along the far shore, but there was no way to determine their true height or distance. This helped confirm his belief that this was truly an enormous river or bay, and that he was viewing the opposite side.
He was concerned that this span might become narrower and eventually they would be forced to return the way they had come, but Captain Phaxâd was adamant in his hope of finding a route across the pole. The fact they were sailing through fresh water implied to Peleg that this would not be the case.
The next morning a fine white ash covered the Urbat and everything on board, much the same as the black volcanic soot which had blanketed the ship during the weeks of darkness.
Upon further investigation, it was clear that it was the same cold, white material which Serug and the others had discovered in the foothills, and the men began playing with it by melting it in their hands or forming it into small balls which they playfully hurled at one another.
Serug and some of the other men brushed a small sample onto a blanket and called for Thaxad, again, to get his opinion.
In the foothills, this substance had been compacted, but Thaxad could now see the individual particles which comprised it. He stared long and hard at the sparkling powder, but he could see that it would soon turn into the same liquid which stubbornly insisted on displaying all the properties of water.
He yelled for Peleg, who had just arrived.
“Do you still have that remaining refraction disc?” Thaxad demanded.
Peleg nodded.
“Go fetch it!”
Peleg returned to see that there was a fresh sample on the blanket. Thaxad grabbed the disc and peered at individual flakes for several minutes. Periodically he would mutter words like “amazing” and “unimaginable”, and eventually, as the substance started to melt on the cloth, he straightened.
“It is šeg,” he finally declared in a confident voice that was absent any embarrassment or bewilderment. Initial cheers were muted out of respect for the Chief Chemist.
He scowled at them.
“It is not often that I am wrong,” he stated, waiting for the hurried nods from the surrounding men.
“Incidentally, I began to have my own doubts last night as I thought it t
hrough. I realized that if šeg did exist only in the cold, pressurized depths of bodies of water, it would cool and harden the surrounding water, slowly filling the waterways and oceans with solid water from the bottom up. Eventually all life in the oceans would die, and the planet itself would be covered with šeg. So—if it did exist, all life would soon be destroyed by it.
“The other possibility was that when water solidified, it formed a sparse crystalline pattern which actually expanded and decreased its density, allowing it to cool and harden only on the surface. Upon examining the individual flakes, I am able to confirm this.
“Each piece of šeg has been formed into a beautiful six-sided crystalline structure, which appears to be unique to each flake. Apparently, when water cools, it expands into this hexagonal pattern! Very unique. And very fortunate.”
He looked intently into their eyes and almost smiled.
“Considering the alternative, I am glad to say I was wrong.”
With that he passed the cloth and disc around for them to examine, turned, and retreated to his cabin.
The small group broke up and the crew returned to find additional artistic and entertaining uses for the newly discovered šeg.
The far shore could now be seen by everyone, and it was clear that this river (or bay) was slowly narrowing. There had been additional occurrences of šeg falling from the sky, and both coastlines were now covered in white.
Moisture was also crystallizing in the sails where it weighed them down and threatened to destroy their shape. The wind kept them flexible, but soon they would become too stiff for tacking and eventually would have to be lowered.
A concerted effort to catch fish had begun, since meat reserves were quickly disappearing. Fish normally didn’t store well, but in this cold climate, they could be stored for several days in nets hanging from the ship. Also, there appeared to be no place to renew their supply of firewood for the galley, so fish-oil was needed to heat the bare essentials for the broth which they might soon be consuming exclusively.
“I’m moving my birds below-deck,” said Serug. “I think it’s getting too cold for them.”
“They seem to be handling it better than we are,” said Peleg, watching as a puff of condensed vapor escaped his mouth.
The crew now wore full pants and jackets made from blankets at all times, and some had even fashioned headbands to cover their ears. The sun continued its nodding circuit around the horizon, but Peleg had the impression that it was lower now, since, for more than two weeks, they had been plunging further into the south. Occasionally a few stars were visible in the darkened zenith, but only landmarks along the horizon made it possible to estimate the days.
Attention had turned to Serug’s tum-birds for alternative provisions. They had been growing well, but the grains which were used to feed them would soon be needed by the crew. Eventually, they would have to be sacrificed if the sparse conditions continued. Until such time, however, Serug wanted them moved to the warmer interior of the ship.
“Look at that one,” Serug indicated a small male huddling in the corner of the wooden cage. “I think he’s shivering.”
“Maybe that one,” admitted Peleg. “But I think they are just as noisy—and smelly—as ever. In fact, I think they like the cold.”
Serug glared at his antagonist.
“Just help me with these cages,” he said tersely.
The cold environment had produced other interesting conditions, one of which was the slippery film which often covered the top decks. As the fresh-water spray blew over the ship, it collected on the decks and hardened into a thin crystalline layer which often made walking treacherous. On more than one occasion, various mariners (who prided themselves on their excellent balance) found themselves on their knees as they tried vainly to keep from sliding across the flooring.
Peleg reached up to help Serug wrest the top tum-coop from the stack, which was really four cages fastened together with a family of eight birds in each. Slowly they slid it off of the cage beneath and began to back away. Once it had cleared the stack, Serug began to maneuver towards the small narrow staircase in the center of the deck which descended into the level below.
“Step down!” Serug warned as Peleg began to back over the narrow ledge that separated the poop deck from the main.
“I see it,” Peleg grunted. After years of taking measurements and inflating Zini while on the Poop Deck, he certainly knew where that first step was.
Serug followed him over the ledge and they began to make their way towards the opening. Suddenly, a slight tip of the deck pushed Peleg backwards, forcing his knees to buckle. Normally, such rocking would have amounted to nothing, but this time Peleg was walking over a patch of slippery šeg and his feet flew out from under him.
Serug felt the cage become much heavier as Peleg went down, and he pulled back instinctively in an attempt to take over the load. The thirty-two tum-birds began to squawk noisily as their home tipped violently.
Serug bent backwards trying to hoist the cage on his waist, but it was too heavy. Peleg managed to get to his knees and reach up from the deck where he grabbed the nearest section and pushed upward.
Peleg tried to help him lift the cage, but instead he managed to push Serug backwards, threatening to buckle his knees. Serug stumbled back a few paces as Peleg, who had slid back down to the deck, waved helplessly at the cage in a vain attempt to try and reach it.
Finally Serug could stand no more. His legs crumpled and he sank flat on his back with his legs twisted under him. He tried to bench-press the cage to keep it from resting on his head, but his efforts were useless and it continued to fall slowly and relentlessly onto his face.
Peleg was still clambering forward and he managed to get close enough to give the cage one desperate shove which pushed the falling coop past Serug where it was able to drop safely, barely missing his head.
Unfortunately, Serug’s head was at the edge of the main deck, and the tum-cage hurtled over the side of the ship and down into the chilly waters below.
Serug twisted violently and forgot all about his narrow escape.
“My birds!” he shouted.
The cage was bouncing along the water’s surface, occasionally submerging, but falling behind the Urbat with alarming speed.
Without a moment’s hesitation—or thought, Serug dove in after his birds.
“Man overboard!” yelled Peleg, and soon the sails were lowering and the oarsman were back-rowing to slow the ship.
Peleg slid to the other side of the boat, threw the anchor in to the water, and then ran for the dinghy.
There would normally not be this much of an alarm; all crewmen were expected to swim regularly as part of their fitness regiment. But in these cold waters they had discovered that joints would lock and muscles would fatigue in a matter of minutes. In warmer waters, any one of them could swim for hours. Now, however, great concern was given to anyone who remained in the water for more than a few moments.
Peleg knew that Serug would not rest until he had recaptured his tum-birds. Soon he and Untash, along with two oarsmen, had lowered the dinghy and were cutting through the waves towards his bobbing blond head. The cage could be seen in the distance, over three-quarters submerged. Peleg hoped these strange birds were good at holding their breath.
Tidal forces had etched out jagged outcroppings and islets along this coastline/river bank. Huge walls of water pounded against the rocks creating spray and thunder. The cage was swiftly approaching them, and Peleg was afraid that a wave might catch Serug and toss him in the direction of the craggy šeg-covered ridges.
Slowly they began to close on Serug, but it soon became obvious that he was floundering. He was still wearing his trousers and jacket made from blankets which weighed him down even more, and he was suffering from leg and abdomen cramps. He would go under soon.
Up ahead, a small wave lifted the cage, draining much of the water and exposing the soggy birds inside. As the poor tum tried to orient themselve
s, a second wave tipped the cage on its end and propelled it towards a huge igneous boulder which was covered in šeg spray.
The cage smashed on impact, and pieces of wood and rope, along with food and nesting materials, were sent flying everywhere. Coop-sections dangled from severed lashings, and the newly freed birds should have discovered their emancipation and headed for the skies. Instead, the strange black and white birds, (which were never really good fliers), fought their way out of the crate, and dove headlong into the water where they vanished beneath the waves.
The men’s attention was focused on Serug, and when they reached him, his head was submerged and he appeared motionless. Peleg and Untash jumped into the cold water and grabbed hold of Serug, lifting him up to the surface and into the dinghy. As they clambered back in behind him, Untash turned the unconscious Serug over. His normally pinkish skin had turned a glossy white with a bluish tinge. As Peleg bent over him, his worse fears were confirmed.
His friend was not breathing.
The massive earthquakes had coincided with Mentor Inanna’s screams of pain during the hours she spent in labor. She cursed the cosmos which somehow had seen fit to give this anguish only to humans—the highest form of Lifeforce. No other creature had such agony giving birth.
It had been many decades since such intense geological activities, and many of the more spiritually attuned students at the Citadel looked for signs and apparitions from the recently disturbed underworld.
The Sisterhood of Lilith, who remained devoutly consumed with the return of their beloved Minister Dumuzi, attended the High Minister’s labor throughout the earthquake’s rumble, and saw the birth of this new boy-child as a possible answer to their desires. If any soul could escape Erset la Tari into La’atzu, the spirit world, it was the great Minister Dumuzi who had revealed so much to them. Upon restoration to the spirit world, incarnation would be a simple matter. How fitting to return to them as the offspring of their High Minister, whom they loved almost as much as he had. In fact, the Sisterhood of Lilith secretly referred to her as their Queen.
