Emerald Sea tcw-2

by John Ringo

  “There’s a big current, called the Stream, that hooks around Flora and heads up the coast. It’s like a river in the ocean. If we stayed in it, we’d take twice as long to go south; it was worth sailing out to the east to avoid it. When we reach the Isles we’ll have to sail back into it since the mer’s last reported position was on the western edge of the Isles where the Stream passes between Flora and the Isles.”

  “I think I saw it,” Herzer said. “The water was different looking.”

  “Probably where the school was,” the commander offered. “The migrating fish on the coast tend to follow the edge of the Stream. Plankton get caught in the eddies, there’s more growth potential in the interface of different temperature waters, and lines of seaweed build up there and provide shelter.”

  “How much longer to get to the Isles, sir?” Jerry asked.

  “Well, if we don’t have to get off course to launch dragons all the time, about another two days,” the commander said with a grin. He looked up at the sky where high clouds had started to cross the sun and frowned. “That’s assuming the weather holds and we don’t have to heave to.”

  * * *

  Herzer slumped into the chair in the wardroom and dragged his helmet off, rubbing at his sweaty head. He’d thought about getting a shower but he was just too bone weary at the moment.

  The door opened up and a steward stuck his head through. It was a new one, a tall, lanky fellow who looked both young and old. Herzer was sure he wouldn’t be able to place his age in the right century.

  “Get you anything, sir?” the steward asked.

  “God, would you?” Herzer grinned. “I thought sword work was hard but riding those damned things is harder than it looks. Water? Maybe some tea?”

  “Coming right up,” the steward said. “Maybe a bite to eat? There’s some cold pork and some ship’s crackers I can get my hands on.”

  “That’d be great,” Herzer said, leaning back as the steward left.

  The man was back in no time and true to his word he brought both water and herbal tea as well as a platter with meat and crackers.

  “Thanks,” Herzer said, taking a long pull of the slightly metallic-tasting water and then a bite of cracker. “Join me?”

  “Not done, sir,” the steward said, but then picked up one of the crackers and took a bite. “Mostly.”

  Herzer chuckled and took another swig of water.

  “You’re new.”

  “The other guy busted his ankle on a ladder, sir.” The steward frowned. “I’m Seaman Annibale.”

  “Got a first name, Seaman Annibale?” Herzer asked.

  “Joel, sir.”

  “Ever flown on a dragon?”

  “No, sir,” Joel answered. “I used to be a sailor before the Fall. And after, but as a fisherman then.”

  “So what the hell are you doing as a steward?” Herzer frowned.

  “You know, sir, everyone asks me that,” Joel grinned. “I suppose I ought to go find the idiot that did it and thank him one dark night.” He paused for a moment and then shrugged. “You’re with the general’s party, right, sir?”

  “Yeah,” Herzer replied and then stuck out his hand. “Herzer Herrick.”

  “Really?” Joel said, smiling. “The Herzer Herrick?”

  “Oh, gods,” Herzer groaned.

  “I mean, I’ve been reading this book…”

  “Oh, gods…” Herzer groaned again. “Not you, too?”

  “I mean, the guy’s not a particularly good writer…”

  “So I’ve heard,” Herzer replied. “And if I ever track him down…”

  “Did you really kill fifteen guys?” Joel asked, sitting down.

  “Not there,” Herzer said then grimaced. “Look, the book was way overblown, okay? I just did my job.”

  “But that’s where you got the hook, right?” Joel asked.

  “Yes, that’s where I got the hook. But it was six riders, okay? Not fifteen. And Bast got most of them. And, yeah, we were outnumbered, but the Changed didn’t cover the valley ‘like a rippling wave.’ There were… a few hundred. Look, you ever been in a fight, I mean, where people are trying to kill you?”

  “Yeah,” Joel answered, soberly. “And I’ve seen a few dead bodies in my time.”

  “Ever had a friend killed before your eyes?” Herzer asked, not waiting for a reply. “Look, it’s just butchery, okay? It happens to be butchery I’m good at. I don’t know what that says about me except… I’m good at staying alive. A lot of people that day, and other days, that were just as good as me bought the farm. Sometimes it just seems like luck. But if you’ve been there, you know that.”

  “Yeah, I guess I do,” Joel said, picking up the mug. “I’ve got to circulate, sir. But thanks for talking to me. You cleared up a lot.”

  “You’re welcome,” Herzer said, then grinned. “And if you ever find the bastard that wrote that book…”

  “I’ll be sure to send you his address.” Joel grinned.

  * * *

  There was no chance of dragons launching the next day, as the ship was tossed by the winds in the morning. A bank of clouds was to the north and the crew scrambled aloft to reef the sails. For the next two days the ship was tossed by howling winds and blinding rain as the second front in as many weeks hammered them unmercifully. This one was, if anything, colder and stronger. And while the winds were fair to send them to their destination, on the second day the captain had the ship heave to, sailing into the teeth of the gale. Their destination had been the death of countless mariners over the ages and he was not about to go sailing down on it, unable to get a fix on their position and at the front of a gale.

  By the third day the winds had started to abate and the rain had stopped. The captain had the ship put on the starboard tack and sailed to the west, groping forward for a glimpse of Flora or anything else to get a fix on their position. Joanna volunteered to go aloft and try to spot land. She wasn’t able to land in the tossing waves but the recovery area had been reinforced and redesigned so that she was able to pull herself out with minimal effort.

  “Flora’s over to the west,” she said, after she had shaken off. “There’s an inlet, but there’s inlets all up and down the coast. That doesn’t tell us anything. There are some islands to the southeast; we’re about sixty klicks from them. Nothing due east at all as far as I can see. Oh, and there’s clear sky well down below the horizon northwest. I think we’ll be clear of the clouds, or at least the cover will be broken, by evening.”

  The skipper and Commander Mbeki consulted their charts and came to the conclusion that they were too close to the Isles for comfort without better conditions or a clear sky to get a navigation fix. They altered course towards Flora, which of the two was the lesser danger, and headed into the Stream.

  By evening, as Joanna had predicted, the skies were clearing and the wind and waves had abated. The latter were choppier, but far smaller and the ship rode over them with a graceful dip and yaw that was easy enough to compensate for.

  The next morning dawned clear but the winds were increasing and the area around the ship was dotted with whitecaps. The skipper had managed to get a star reading the night before so the ship was now under reefed sails, scudding southward over the tossing sea. When Herzer came on deck after breakfast he groaned, sure that the skipper would want dragons up in this mess.

  “We can launch, sir,” Jerry was saying as Herzer reached the quarterdeck. The wind, hard and cold from the north, blew his words away so that he practically had to shout. “But I’m not sure about recovery. And I’m not sure we can read the water the way you would like. We can see shoals, and we can signal them, but we can’t really gauge the depth.”

  “Just steer us clear of them,” the skipper said. “As for recovery… the water’s warm,” he added with a grin.

  “The air sure isn’t,” Jerry growled, but he was smiling. “We’ll do it, sir. But we will probably have to do water landings; I’m not comfortable with the way the ship is m
oving.”

  “Do what you can, Jerry,” the skipper said, not unkindly. “I know you’re worried about the dragons, and their riders, but if we run up on an uncharted coral head, they’re all going to drown.”

  “Gotcha, sir,” the warrant replied. “Well, I’ll take the first flight.

  He was quickly in the air and before he had even reached cruising altitude the dragon was making the dips and swirls indicating shallow water. He angled to the east until he reached a point that looked to be about fifteen klicks off the port bow, circled, then headed south.

  “We’re well out in the Stream, then,” Commander Mbeki said. “This is solid deep water on both sides and ahead of us for klicks, sir. If we had sonar we’d be looking at two hundred, maybe five hundred, meters of depth.”

  “Yes,” the skipper said, “and it shoals out fast. Signal him to stay ahead of us looking for shoal water until he’s relieved. Signal him to look for mer, as well and to signal if he sees any sign of intelligent life.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  “Put a wyvern on standby for launch. If he sees anything I want to recover him as soon as he’s had a good look.”

  It was no more than an hour later when Jerry went into a hover against the north wind. At an acknowledgement from the ship he signaled that there was a settlement below him. Then he signaled that there were several small boats.

  “Recall him and launch the standby wyvern,” the skipper said. “Tell the rider to ignore the settlement and head southward. The mer are supposed to be somewhere around here. Oh, and send a messenger to General Talbot and tell him that we’re approaching the last reported position of the mer.”

  * * *

  The man who scrambled up the side of the ship was burned black by the sun with hands callused and gnarled from fishing nets. But he looked around him with lively interest as a midshipman led him to the quarterdeck.

  “Colonel Shar Chang,” the skipper said, sticking out his hand. “United Free States Navy.”

  “Bill Mapel,” the fisherman said. “This is one hell of a ship you’ve got here, Skipper.”

  “Yes, it is,” the skipper replied with a grin. “We don’t have much information from down here. How is it?”

  “Well, it’s not as good as it used to be.” The fisherman frowned. “I used to run a fishing charter on Bimi island before the Fall and it caught me here. We haven’t been starving, but the weather’s been a nightmare and finding your way around without autodirectors isn’t the easiest thing in the world. I’d never learned star navigation, none of us had, so if we lose sight of shore it’s a matter of making our way in and finding a spot we recognize. Storms, reefs, a torn sail, things we never even thought of before the Fall are all disasters. And they’re all taking their toll. We’ve had some problems with vitamin deficiencies, too, but since we started getting some fruit from Flora that’s less of a problem.”

  “What are you trading?” Talbot interjected. “Sorry, I’m General Talbot, UFS ground force.”

  “The general is also the duke of Overjay,” the skipper interjected.

  “Duke?” the islander said with a grimace.

  “Over my bitter objections,” Talbot said, “they’ve reinstituted a hereditary aristocracy. I at least got them to include methods of turnover.”

  “How’s the war going?” Mapel asked. “There’s not much news.”

  “It’s bad in Ropasa,” Commander Mbeki said. “New Destiny is Changing many of the people there against their will. But… it does give them some advantages.”

  “In the short term,” Talbot snarled. “We’ve had to fight them and even captured some. They’re brutal, aggressive, strong and dumb. Personally, I’ll pass, thank you.”

  “But surely they can be Changed back,” Mapel protested. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to Change but here we didn’t really need to. I can imagine in Ropasa that having enough farmers…”

  “Their Change is under the seal of a council member,” Talbot said. “It will take her, or a quorum of Key-holders, to release the Change. Even they cannot release it.”

  “Now that’s evil,” the islander snapped. “You’re sure of that?”

  “My wife is a doctor, a fully trained one,” Talbot replied. “She was given enough power to investigate the Change. Most of them are bound to Celine’s security protocols. Bound by her name in a very old way of putting it. There is no way to release them, short of winning this war. So, since many of them are people who resisted them in the fight in Ropasa, if you fall into the hands of New Destiny… well, you know your ‘new destiny.’ ”

  “Shit.”

  “But on the subject of why we’re actually here,” Talbot continued. “Have you seen sign of the mer?”

  “They’re not here, now,” Mapel replied after a moment’s thought. “They’ve moved to the Ber Islands because of the weather; they’re seminomadic. They told us they were leaving and we were sorry to see them go; they and the delphinos that cluster with them were helpful in finding fish.”

  “How are you fixed for nets?” Commander Mbeki interjected.

  “Not well,” the islander admitted. “Most of the ones that we have are cast-nets from pre-Fall. We don’t have good materials for making our own.”

  “General?” the skipper asked.

  Talbot grimaced but then shrugged. “We have some we brought with us, but they’re for trading with the mer. I can release a couple of the gill-nets to you. That should help. But I’d appreciate it if you could show the skipper the location that you think the mer have traveled to.”

  “Easily,” Mapel replied. “And I really appreciate it.”

  “I think that you’ll see some traders coming this way soon,” Commander Mbeki said. “You might want to think about what you can come up with in the way of trade goods. We’ll tell them that you need nets and suchlike.”

  “Thank you, again,” Mapel said. “Now, if you’ve got a chart of the area I’ll point out where the mer went.”

  * * *

  After the islander had left they looked at the maps and the skipper snarled, angrily.

  “That’s the other side of the Banks,” he said, pointing to the soundings marked on the chart. “There’s shoal water everywhere unless we go all the way around the Isles. The area they are in is on the edge of a deep, but everything to the north, west and south of them is shallow. They’re in a sort of crescent. It will take two or three more days, if we have fair weather, for us to beat around to where they are. There’s a passage through the shoals, but it’s just too damned shallow, and narrow, to dare trying it in the ship.”

  “I’d suppose that makes sense if they’re trying to get out of the weather,” Talbot said with another grimace. “Jerry, do you think the wyverns can forage off of fish?”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “It’s silly for me to be impatient after this long,” Talbot admitted. “But I don’t want to spend another two or three days, if the wind holds, beating around the islands. On the dragons we can make it there in an afternoon.”

  “We can,” Jerry admitted. “But they’ll be ravenous by the time we get there.”

  “Can we carry weight over and above us?” Herzer interjected. “We can have some of the salt beef and pork cooked before we leave. Load it in bags and we can carry our own food. It won’t be enough for more than getting there, but it will tide them over. Surely we can find something when we get there.”

  “What about water?” Jerry temporized.

  “There’s a spring marked on the main island that’s by where we’re going,” Edmund replied.

  “These islands are nearly deserted,” Jerry said. “When it comes to wyverns getting fed, you don’t want to go with if.”

  “Get Joanna up here,” Talbot said. “I want her input.”

  The dragon, when the problem was presented to her, was unsure and unhappy.

  “I’m not sure we can catch enough fish to matter,” she admitted. “You’re talking about a lot of fish.” She l
ooked over the side and then turned to the rail. Tapping it open she slid over into the water.

  “All sails aback,” the skipper yelled. “Bring her into the wind.”

  Herzer ran to the ladder to pri-fly and when that wasn’t high enough scrambled up the shrouds to the crow’s nest on the mainmast. He could see the dragon’s form in the clear water. She had submerged and was coursing along the reefs that were visible deep below the ship. Suddenly she lunged to the side and snapped at something, swimming rapidly with her sinuous, snakelike sculling. She appeared to catch whatever she was hunting and moved on. He realized that she was holding her breath for a long time and wondered if that was a normal function of dragons. Finally, she surfaced and sculled over to the side of the ship.

  “If these Ber Islands are anything like here, no problem,” she said happily, working her tongue at a morsel stuck in her teeth. “With your permission, Skipper, I’m going to do a bit more foraging. Sushi’s not so bad with enough salt water and salt beef as an alternative.”

  Talbot looked at the sky and nodded. “Jerry, get the wyverns up. See if they can do the same. If they can find enough food here for their midmorning snack, we’ll load as heavily as we can with rations, a few of the nets and other things we brought and then head over to the Ber Islands.”

  “Will do, sir,” the warrant said. “I’m not sure about getting them in the water, though.”

  In the event it turned out to be not too hard. Once the riders dove over the side, fighting the strong current, the dragons followed. They also quickly learned the technique of fishing from watching Joanna and before long they were darting throughout the reefs, picking off the large fish that dotted it.

  “We’re in the islanders’ fishing area,” Herzer pointed out, looking over the side longingly at the water. “I’m not sure they’ll appreciate us eating out all the big fish.”

  “They’ll eat better with the nets,” Talbot said with a shrug. “I’m sure they won’t begrudge us a few grouper.”

  “Is that what they are?”