by John Ringo
"Okay, you've got a point," the rabbit admitted. "What do you want for the two things?"
"Well, what do you want for the information on how to build a flamethrower?"
"A smaller one," the rabbit replied. "Small enough for me to use. And you'll be surprised how much weight I can carry."
Evan thought about that for a moment, then frowned. "It's not to be used against this ship, or any other ship of the free states. Nor any member of the free states. Nor any ally."
"Jeeze, you drive a hard bargain," the bunny said with a sigh. "I guess that means I can't use it on that damned elf."
"Correct."
"Okay, you'll make it, though?"
"Yes."
"In that case," the rabbit said, holding up a length of pipe. "You need three venturi holes, here, here and here," he said, pointing. "About two millimeters across."
"That's it?"
"That's it. But you still owe me the downsized flamethrower."
"Not a problem."
"What about the other thing I want?"
Evan contemplated him for a moment then shrugged. "What is it?"
"A still."
"A still?"
"Do you know that I have not been able to find one drop of booze on this tub," the rabbit said, angrily, his beady red eyes positively glowing. "I get all ticky when I don't have booze."
"Stills give off a quite distinctive smell," Evan said. "But it's possible. For your use, not to sell to the crew, right?"
"Man, you are forever putting conditions on things," the rabbit snarled. "Okay!"
"What do I get?" Evan asked.
"What? I let you live while giving me conditions, didn't I?" the rabbit asked. "I could just beat you up a little. That's one of my programs; beating up nerd-boys!"
"In which case you wouldn't get your still," Evan said. "And I'm not a nerd-boy, I'm an engineer."
"There's a difference?" the rabbit asked. "Okay, okay, I'll give you one favor, to be called in. If it's completely out of line, I can tell you to jump in the ocean. But I'm not allowed to go back on favors unless it's out of line."
"Okay," Evan replied after thinking about it for a moment.
"And no 'I wish for three wishes' or asking for my pass codes or anything like that. Tit for tat."
"Fine," Evan replied. "I'll make the still. I know just where to put it."
"Okay, I'm gonna blow this joint," the rabbit said, bitterly. "Some island cruise."
* * *
The wyverns had been upset about taking off again without being fed—they could smell the salt beef in the bags—and even more upset about backtracking. But after a while they settled down to a steady cooing and twittering which Herzer knew was their form of muttering.
Pete was riding with him on Chauncey. On reaching land the mer-man had given what looked like a closed-mouth cough and water had poured through the slits in his ribs. After that he was an air breather just like the unChanged humans. As they flew Herzer pointed out the view from aloft including one of the vast schools of baitfish.
"Bait ball," Pete replied, shielding his eyes against the westering sun. "Can we fly over it?"
Herzer banked towards the ball and got a bellowed comment from Joanna which he ignored. The school of fish was about fifty meters on a side, a silver ripple at the surface with the water churned to white around it from attacking fish.
"That's menhaden I think," Pete yelled. "But look at those damned tuna! That's damned good eating there, especially with a little wasabi."
Herzer could see the larger fish smashing into the bait fish like cannonballs. As he watched one of the larger predators came clear out of the water in its pursuit. It was hard to judge size without a reference, but the fish had to be close to two meters in length.
"We can't really track the pelagics like that," Pete said with annoyance in his voice. "They just move too fast. The delphinos can keep up, but whenever we try to get to them they've moved before we get there and chasing them's a losing proposition."
"Herzer!" Joanna bellowed, sweeping down on him. "We need to get these dragons fed, soon."
"Coming, Commander," the lieutenant replied, banking his dragon back towards the coast. But his mind kept moving on the problem. There had been enough food for a hundred dragons in that school of tuna alone. The reef-fish were all well and good, but getting into one of those big schools was going to be the way to keep them fed.
In deference to the mer-man, he made a water landing when they reached the fishing spot. It would mean loose straps on the ride back and much oiling to get them back in condition, but it had been undignified enough carrying Pete to the dragon; the least he could do was let him get off in relative comfort.
He loosed the straps holding the mer-man on and then donned his own gear and dove under the water. It had been a cold ride in nothing but his bathing suit and the water was not much better. He got the straps loose with one hand that was fumbling with cold and a hook, grabbed them and headed for shore, dragging the leather along with Pete's help.
Once on shore he laid the straps out on the plentiful rocks and looked at the dragons disporting in the waves.
"They look like they're having fun," Pete said. He had dragged himself up partially on the shore and now leaned on one arm, looking out to sea and flapping his tail idly in the waves, like a person tapping their toes.
"They are," Herzer said. "If I wasn't so damned cold I'd be in there with them. I don't know which is worse, the water or this damned cold wind."
"We're getting a fire started," Jerry said, opening up the closures on his jacket. "You should have worn your gear."
"I was planning on a water landing," Herzer replied, wiping water out of his hair with his hands. "Better to be cold than wet gear. I could do with a hot bath, though."
"No help there," Pete said. "All these islands are limestone built up from coral; the nearest volcanic activity is nearly a thousand klicks from here."
"Just as well," Herzer said. "I'd rather be cold than have a tsunami."
"I can think of a way to warm you up," Bast said.
"I'm sure you can," Herzer replied with a grin.
"But I'm going to go play with the dragons," Bast said, reaching into the pouch at her hip and pulling out a breath mask and a set of fins.
"Where did those come from?" Herzer asked. He knew that Edmund only had four sets and they were all being used; he had his set rolled up and tucked into a pocket of his bathing shorts.
"My pouch?" Bast replied. "I was coming to the islands. I can't breathe water. Of course I brought gear." With that she dropped her gear, took her clothes off, put the mask on, picked up the fins and waded into the water.
"Can someone please explain who she is to me?" Jerry asked.
"She's . . . Bast," Herzer replied.
"That's not much of an answer," Vickie said acerbically. "She's an elf? I thought they were, you know, tall and lean and handsome. Not small and pretty and dressed like a character in an anime cartoon."
"She's a wood elf," Herzer replied. "They were created around the time of the AI wars. She was created around the time of the AI wars."
"Crap," Jerry said. "How old is she?"
"Physically? About two thousand years old," Herzer replied. "Mentally? Somewhere between twelve and two thousand. She told me one time that elves are too happy to spend much time grieving. Given that she's seen thousands of human friends die over the years, I guess that's not a bad way to handle it. As to caring about societal conventions, like not stripping in front of a bunch of people, she's going to outlive them all and their conventions. She just . . . well, you've seen. Hell, just wait; that's nothing."
"I can't wait until she meets Bruce," Pete chuckled.
"Why?"
"Bruce is . . . not a bad guy," Pete said. "He's held us together and nobody's starved; not even the young and the old. Really, he's done pretty well, given everything that's going on. But . . . he can be a little . . . stuffy."
CHAPTER TWENTY
Edmund, trailed by Daneh and Rachel, followed the mer-folk deeper into the ocean and to the east. They stayed about seven meters below the surface while the bottom sloped steeply downward.
Half way to the "village" Jason let out a grunt and headed downward. He poked in a crevice with his spear, then twisted it and pulled out a lobster nearly the size of his thigh. He wrung the head off and dropped it to the bottom, swimming back up to the group and turning his catch over to one of the bearers.
"It's been a bad day of fishing," he lamented. "We'd been in this area not long ago and most of the easy fish are already hunted out. We're having to go further and further afield to find anything edible."
"Why don't you just move someplace else?" Edmund asked.
"We're not entirely without possessions," Jason said. "So just picking up and moving is not an easy proposition; we only do it if it's necessary. And this area has some features that we find necessary for our survival these days."
"What?" Talbot asked. But he received no reply.
"I've got a net with me," Edmund pointed out after he was sure the mer wasn't going to answer.
"Wait to show it to Bruce," Jason said. He turned to the landsman and pitched his voice lower. "You're liable to find a cold reception; Bruce doesn't care about anything but the Work." The capital was clear.
"Repairing the reefs?" Edmund asked, looking around. They looked in fine shape to him. Billions of fish were swimming across them and sea-fans waved in every direction. "I'd think keeping his people fed would be his first job."
"Mostly he agrees," Jason admitted. "But he doesn't want to have outsiders involved with us. He thinks that if we just lay low, the war will pass over us and we can just continue with the Work."
"And what do you think?" Edmund asked.
There was a long pause before Jason shrugged.
"He's the chosen leader of our people and it's not my job to speak against him, certainly not to outsiders."
"What about to New Destiny?" Edmund asked.
"New Destiny considers the mer to be abominations," Jason said, bitterly. "Let's just say that I disagree."
"So do I," Talbot said with a nod. "And, speaking from past experience, New Destiny tends to spread its feelings far and wide."
"Well, from all reports New Destiny is winning," Jason said.
"Reports are often wrong," the duke replied. "They've never won anywhere that I've had a hand."
"You're only one man."
"True, but I said 'had a hand.' Herzer is, often, my hand."
Jason bleated something that the computer changed to a tuneless chuckle.
"I suspect that being your hand is probably where he lost his. Well, Edmund Talbot, who never fails, welcome to Whale Point Drop mer-town."
The town spread out before them was larger than Edmund had expected. The area of reef had deep crevices gouged through it, generally trending from the shore to the deeps. In the center the crevices came together into an open sandy area with a prominent coral head in the middle. And the area swarmed with mer.
There were mer-men and mer-maids as well as children, although none of the latter were less than a year or two old. Edmund noticed that the mer-maids were just as naked in the upper regions as the mer-men and tried to keep his eyes away from the display of, in the main, perfect breasts.
In the open area, he could only think of it as the village square, the mer were especially thick. Some of them had food for trade, others had handmade goods. But the pickings were slim; there was far more communicating going on than trading. At the sight of the hunting party, many of the people swarmed upwards, but there was obvious distress at the shortage of food they were bringing back. There was also a great deal of surprise at the visitors. The computer picked out the words "Freedom Coalition" but the rest was apparently a jumble.
Jason tugged Edmund through the crowd and down to near the bottom where a group was floating, arguing about something. The argument stopped as they neared and the group saw that Jason had a visitor.
"General Edmund Talbot," Jason said, gesturing at one of the mer, "Bruce the Black."
Edmund nodded at the mer and smiled.
"I've come a long way to see you," Edmund said.
"And for no good reason," Bruce returned, brusquely. "We're entering no agreements with anyone; we've enough troubles of our own without bringing others down on us."
"Well, there are some troubles we can help with," Edmund said, opening up the heavy package and letting fall the edge of the net. "This is a woven monomolecular net. There's nothing on earth that can break it and it will last far longer than you'll live. I've others coming on a ship, not woven mono, but made of good, sturdy cosilk. Those will last for nearly a generation and are, admittedly, easier to fix."
"Gill net," Bruce said. The AI gave it as toneless but it was clearly a spit of sound. "Great for randomly picking up innocent, and many of them inedible, fish. Very much what we need."
"Bruce," Jason interjected. "We weren't able to get more than a couple of hogs and a few damned crayfish. We're starving. A gill net is what we need!"
"Why? To strip the damned reefs again?" the leader replied hotly. "Woven monomolecule! What happens when it gets caught? You won't be able to cut it, you'll have to tear the reef itself! And what happens when a dolphin gets caught in it? It'll drown while you're off gallivanting!"
"Gallivanting is it?" Jason replied. "I don't see you bringing in any fish!"
"There's sea plum," the mer-leader replied.
"There's always bloody sea plum," one of the group behind him said.
"You've come on a fool's errand," the leader repeated. "You might as well go back. We've nothing for you, and you've got nothing for us."
"Well, I'll leave you the net," Edmund said. "And we have to stay in the area for a few days; our transportation is having to sail around the banks."
"How did you get here, then?" one of the group asked.
"On dragon-back," Jason replied to a series of clicks. "Pete went with them down the coast to fish."
"The dragons were fishing?" Bruce asked.
"They can swim," Edmund said.
"Mister Black," Daneh interjected. "I'm Daneh Ghorbani and this is my daughter Rachel. I'd like to at least see how you are surviving and how you are doing it. We've had hard times as well and I'd like to see if you have anything that you're doing that we can pick up. We might have a few new ideas to share as well."
Bruce considered that for a moment, then shrugged.
"I can't exactly kick you out," he said, finally. "But I'm not going to join any alliances. Not with you, not with New Destiny."
"Especially with New Destiny," someone behind Edmund said.
"New Destiny isn't so bad," a black-haired mer-man said, pushing to the front of the crowd. He was one of the largest of the mer and even compared to the crowd around him heavy-set.
"New Destiny considers all Changed to be abominations," Edmund replied. "How can they not be bad for the mer?"
"If they consider all Change to be abominations," the mer-man asked, "how come they're Changing their own people?"
"Edmund Talbot," Bruce said with a sigh. "This is Mosur."
"Well, Mosur," Edmund replied, just as reasonably. "There's a broad difference, that most people grasp, between being voluntarily Changed into whatever you choose, versus being turned, against your will, into an orc. They've Changed most of the population of Ropasa against their will. I've seen the results and, trust me, you don't want that happening to you."
"How do you know it's against their will?" the mer replied, angrily. "Have you known someone who was Changed the way that you describe? And let me give a more accurate description, one less filled with malice. They are Changed so that they are tougher and more able to withstand the strain of the post-Fall world. Stronger, tougher and knowing how to survive. I think that counts for something. Most of the population of Ropasa has survived. They're not living on the ragged edge of starvation."
"You don't look starving to me," Edmund said to a general laugh.
"One's the same as the other," Bruce said, loudly. "They'll fight each other and they'll both lose."
"You'd best hope so," Edmund replied, sadly. "That we both lose. Because while we won't have any issue with you sitting things out, New Destiny will. And if we lose they'll come looking for you."
There was a mutter of agreement and Edmund noticed for the first time that there were delphinos at the edge of the crowd. They weren't entering the discussion, just observing and trading apparently carefully aimed sonar bursts with each other.
"So we have your permission to look around?" Edmund asked.
"It's a free ocean," Bruce said. "It's a free town. That's the point. Look around all you want. But you won't find me changing my mind."
"I understand," Edmund said, sadly.
"Where are you staying?" Bruce asked, suddenly. "Not down here, it's too cold for you."
"You'd be surprised what I can do," Edmund replied. "But we'll be staying up on the land. We landed near the lighthouse; the others will be meeting us there."
"The lighthouse?" Bruce challenged. "Why by the lighthouse?"
"Because it's a landmark," Edmund said, shaking his head. "Look, can I talk to you a moment?" He looked around. "Alone?"
Bruce nodded his assent and they swam across the square to an out-of-the-way alcove while the rest of the mer swarmed around Daneh and Rachel, and Jason spread out the net on the bottom.
"What is up by the lighthouse?" Edmund asked.
"Nothing," Bruce answered hotly. "Why are you asking?"
"Because while you've been sweetness and light about everything else, that really cut to the bone and I'm wondering why." He held up his hand to forestall a reply and shook his head. "Look, you probably are the kind of person who hates diplomats and diplomacy. If you even remember what they are . . ."
"I do," Bruce said, tightly. "I've studied history. That's why I'm trying to keep us out of this war."
"Fine," Edmund replied. "But the point is, the reason that they wore poker faces all the time was that they had things they didn't want to give away. Now, you've got something, something important, up near the lighthouse. I'm not going to investigate what that is. I'm hoping I don't even stumble across it. But the New Destiny folks, if they find out, will pry until they know what it is. And if they can, they'll use it against you."
