by John Ringo
He rounded up a jar and wood alcohol in the galley and then carefully stored the chunk in his seabag. After that he went and checked his telltales.
The rabbit roamed all over the ship, mostly being a minor nuisance and bugging people. But the external telltale, when he touched it, pointed to the aft of the ship and he went to pick up the data from the one in the wardroom.
The latter was occupied, however, by Commander Mbeki who had a pile of documents spread out on the table. He was sitting at the far end, fountain pen in hand, staring at the papers with an abstracted expression.
"Sorry, sir," Joel said. "Anything I can get you?"
"Not right now, Joel," Mbeki said, looking up with dark eyes.
"You look worn out, sir," Joel said. "A mug of herbal tea? Some food?"
"No thanks, Joel," the commander said, shaking his head.
"Sir, I can see you're busy," Joel said, nervously. "But, could I talk to you for a moment?"
"I don't know," the commander said, looking stern for a moment. "What about?"
Joel shut the door and then shrugged. "I sort of need to . . . go out of the chain of command, sir. It's about something you mentioned. And I've been thinking about it a lot."
"What's that?" the commander said. "And you know I don't like sailors breaking chain of command."
"Yes, sir, but it's about my family, sir," the seaman said, gulping. "What you said about New Destiny, sir. Just before we shoved off one of the civilian laborer guys asked me if I knew where my family was."
"And what did you tell him?" Commander Mbeki asked.
"I was sort of surprised, it wasn't like we were talking or anything," Joel replied. "He just up and asked. Then he said that if they were in Ropasa, he knew some people who were smuggling people out, those they could find . . ."
"Indeed," the commander said, frowning. "You realize that there are several possibilities here."
"I hadn't thought about it at the time, sir," Joel shrugged. "But I have since. It might be legit. Then again . . ."
"It might have been a New Destiny agent trolling for sources," Mbeki replied, his face hard.
"Yes, sir," Joel gulped. "The thing is, I told him who my wife and daughter were. What do I do now? I feel like such an idiot."
Commander Mbeki rubbed the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger and grimaced.
"Well, don't think you're the lone idiot," he muttered. "Joel, for now, you've brought it to my attention. I'll think about what to do with it. I should pass it on to the Criminal Investigation Division. But those idiots can't find their ass with both hands. For now, I'm going to sit on it. If you get any more contacts, any more, tell me. Clear?"
"Yes, sir," Joel replied. "What should I do if, you know, if they're from New Destiny and they found them? What if they tell me to . . ."
"In that case definitely contact me, not CID," the commander said.
"Yes, sir."
"Take care, Joel," the commander said, picking up his pen and uncapping it. "And we did not have this little conversation."
* * *
Edmund scrambled up a ladder dangling over the port side as the ship heeled to starboard; the carrier was getting its dragons back.
"Belay that," he said, waving at the receiving party. "No time." He looked up in the dim light at where teams of sailors were rapidly rerigging the damaged cordage. "What happened?"
"We were attacked by a kraken, General," the skipper said. "That was the second attack that we sustained. And I doubt that the kraken was some generic denizen of the deep; it was definitely aiming for us."
"Damn, damn and double damn," Edmund snarled. "We have a hell of a situation here, Skipper. Let's go below."
* * *
Edmund sketched out the attack on the mer-town and listened as the captain detailed the two attacks on the ship.
"Well, we're in a fine pickle," Edmund admitted. "The mer need to move. They say that there's a much more defensible position over by the Bimi islands and they want to go there. Soon. Normally that's not a problem. But they can't protect, or even carry for that matter, their babies, not if they're under attack. And I'd guess that as soon as the ixchitl and the orcas lick their wounds they will be back."
"You want us to transport the children?" the skipper said, frowning. "We can do that, but I can't guarantee that we won't be attacked again. That kraken . . . was frightening. And I can think of ways that it could attack that we wouldn't be able to counter with Evan's flamethrower. Grab us from underneath and gnaw through the hull comes to mind."
"It's the best chance that we've got," Edmund said, well aware that with a spy on board it was more dangerous than he was making out. "Bruce is dead. Jason hasn't been elected as their leader but he's already taking charge, and he's on our side. Hell, all the mer are on our side except a couple that are dead set on supporting New Destiny and they have made themselves scarce since the attack. We've got the mer, and the delphinos for that matter, on our side. But we need to get them to this Key Harbor or whatever and get their babies protected. And the only way to get the babies there, is by sending them with you. I'm putting the lives of the mer in your hands, Skipper. Can I trust you?" Edmund realized very well that he might be putting them in the hands of an agent of New Destiny, but looking in the eye of the skipper he saw not a flicker of misdoubt.
"Before anything happens to them I will die in their defense, sir," the skipper replied. "And so will every one of my crew."
"I need some of the dragons," Edmund said with a nod. "I'll take Joanna, Chauncey and Donal. You take the rest and the regular riders. They've shown they can take on just about anything that New Destiny has thrown at them; I'd be surprised if the three of them, working together, couldn't even take on a kraken."
The skipper nodded seriously at this, then started to crack a smile. Finally he put his hands over his face, trying very hard not to laugh. Edmund could tell it was half hysterical.
"Are you finding something humorous, Colonel?" he said coldly.
"It's just . . ." the skipper said, taking a breath and wiping his eyes. "General, just for a moment, step back and think. I'm commanding a dragon-carrier. And I'm fighting kraken and black-sailed caravels. Every now and again . . . it just catches me off guard and I have to giggle. I got this job because I was a tall ships' sailor. I took out barkentines so that groups of people could experience what it was like to sail in the tall ships. Now I'm figuring out how to use dragons to protect my warship. It just . . . gets me sometimes. I wouldn't do this in front of the crew, but . . ."
Edmund stared at him coldly for a moment, then grunted. Before he knew it he was laughing as well.
"Okay, you got me, but I just gutted a Changed human being and stuffed my arm into its chest, to use it as a shield," he said, chuckling blackly. "You think you've had a strange day?"
* * *
"Daneh," Edmund said, coming up behind the doctor as she was tying off the last suture in one of the injured mer.
The square had been a shambles after the battle, but most of the debris, dead ixchitl and pieces of dead mer, had been cleared out. The ixchitl had been disposed of by the simple expedient of feeding them to the dragons.
Some of the mer had taken less of a dose of neurotoxin than Bruce, who had been hit by at least two harpoons. They had been able to maintain a ragged breathing and Daneh had concocted, on the spot, a form of tail-to-chest resuscitation that had let them live long enough for the fast-decaying toxin to work itself out of the body. Others had been badly bitten by ixchitl or had simply injured themselves in the flight to safety. It was one of the latter she was finishing work on, a young mer-man who had gashed his arm, badly, on the coral, jamming himself into a crevice.
"Hold on, Edmund," Daneh replied. "You're going to need to favor that for a few days or the stitches will tear out. I'd put a bandage on it if we were on the surface, but nothing really stays here in the water. Just be careful of it."
"I will, ma'am," the boy said, wincing at the pain
of the wound.
"Daneh, I want you and Rachel to go on the ship," Edmund said as the boy swam away.
"I'm going to be needed with the mer," Daneh said. "There's going to be more fighting. I'm not just going to run for safety."
"Daneh," the duke said, drifting closer and lowering his voice. "You and Rachel are the only ones I can send that I know aren't the leak. You're going to have to find some way to figure out who it is."
"You know it's that damned rabbit," she replied, quietly. There were mer around and it would do their morale no good to know that the women and children were being sent on a ship that had a potential agent onboard.
"No, I don't know it's the rabbit," Edmund said. "And neither do you. Don't assume that. The one person I refuse to suspect, though, is Evan."
"Why?" Daneh said, then frowned. "Not that I would, either."
"Because he's such a perfect little engineer," Edmund replied. "You can tell what he's thinking just by looking at him. I don't think he could carry it off. I may be wrong, but I also think that he might have an idea how to ferret out the mole. Whoever it is has to be communicating somehow. Even if he's being visited by an avatar, there are traces of their presence. Evan should be able to figure something out. If he can't, I'm out of ideas."
"Okay," Daneh said. "I can see that. But Rachel could go."
"I want both of you to go for the same reason you both came down here, I trust you more than Rachel and, really, it's going to need two. Just go, okay?"
"Okay," she sighed, reaching out to stroke his face. "Take care of yourself."
"I will," Edmund said. "It's you I'm worried about."
* * *
Getting the mer-women out of the cavern was easier than retrieving their babies. But the latter, well swathed in sailcloth, were lifted out through the light fissures and then both groups were ferried out to the ship and hoisted over the side on slings.
While that was going on the ship was discharging its cargo. Since there weren't enough of the bronze-headed spears that had been brought as friendship gifts, they were supplemented with boarding pikes. The pikes were made of low-carbon steel and would rust quickly in the salt environment but they were all that were available. As this was going on, Edmund went over the side and rounded up Herzer and Jason.
"Here," he said, when he finally found them going over plans for the retreat. He thrust out two scabbarded short-swords, wrapped around by heavy belts of a synthetic fabric.
Herzer drew his and tried to whistle. The blade was bright silver and surprisingly light. The design was identical to the Blood Lord blades that he had trained with but while they were light and maneuverable, this blade felt like a feather.
"What is this?" he asked. "Titanium?"
"No, it's a high-tech alloy from the twenty-third century," Edmund replied. "Angus showed it to me just before the Fall. It takes power to work initially, but I had some prepped when the Fall came. I made those just before we came down here as a bribe to Bruce. It's much better than titanium; among other things you can shape it to a damned near monomolecular edge. Don't run a finger down the blade to see how sharp it is."
"I won't," Herzer said, strapping on the sword. The belt was just long enough.
"Thank you," Jason said, sounding weary.
"We're taking Donal, Chauncey and Commander Gramlich," Edmund said. "Put that in your calculations."
"Thank you again," Jason said. "I thought you were going on the ship."
"No, I'm sending Rachel and Daneh that way," he admitted. "But I'll hold on to Joanna to keep up."
"The straps aren't going to take the strain," Herzer pointed out. "It's going to be a long ride. And they're only half as effective if they're stuck in the water all the time."
"I know," Edmund said with a grin. "I think it's time to find out if you can ride a dragon bareback."
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
"Evan, we have a problem," Daneh said, coming into the engineer's crowded office with Rachel trailing her.
"There are female members of the ship's company," he said, uneasily. "The dispensary has everything that . . ."
"Not that kind of problem." Daneh sighed. The engineer, while brilliant at what he did, had the social skills of a rhinoceros. Which made what they needed to do a bit of a problem. "Edmund is convinced that there's a spy for New Destiny on the ship."
Evan opened his mouth to protest and then closed it, nodding.
"They do seem to find us with remarkable regularity," he replied.
"And they knew too much about our party when we got to the Isles. Now, it could be anyone . . ."
"It could be me," he said, looking at her suspiciously. "Or you. No, not you. You weren't on board when they intercepted us before."
"And, sorry, Evan," Rachel said with a smile. "I don't think you could bring it off."
"No, probably not," the engineer said with a grin.
"But you might be able to find out who it is," Daneh said. "Edmund told me to tell you 'avatar traces.' I have no idea what he's talking about."
"Hmmm." The engineer frowned and nodded. "When avatars, or any manifestation of Net energy, are formed, they give off a minute electromagnetic field. It's caused by the not quite perfect intratransmission of data among the nannites or fields that are formed. And in the case of straight projections, because it's a quantum field projection, the energy is actually quite high. In cases where they pass through grouped pieces of metal or other conducting materials they tend to create a static charge area that is similar in some respects to Saint Elmo's fire . . ."
"Okay, okay," Daneh said. "You don't regale me with the physics and I won't tell you about DNA interactions."
"You're a genegineer?" Evan said, delighted.
"No," Daneh replied. "Before the Fall, I fixed their screwups. But the point is, if he, the spy that is, is using a transmitter or being visited by an avatar, there should be traces."
"Well . . . yes," Evan said. "But very faint ones. I don't know how . . ." He paused and murmured to himself. "Perhaps if I . . ."
"I'll leave it to you," Daneh said, patting him on the knee. "But this is between us. If you find anything, report it to Rachel or me. No one else. Clear?"
"Not even the skipper?" Evan said.
"Not even the skipper." Daneh paused and then shrugged. "Whoever it is, they always appear to know our exact position. If they're not using a position locator, and I don't see why they would have access to one, then it has to be someone who has access to the updated navigational charts. How many members of the crew does that make?"
"Oh."
* * *
It was nearly midnight before the work was done and all the gear of the mer was loaded on the ship or on their backs. The group at the surface waved to the women and children on the ship in farewell. The younger mer, even those that could free-swim, had been loaded on board as well, most of them protesting furiously. Finally all preparations were complete and the ship raised anchor, filling its sails with the dying landwind, and moved off to sea.
"The faces of the women aren't something to take with you on the ship," Herzer muttered.
"What?" Jason said at the apparent non sequitur. "They're the ones on the ship."
" 'Bird of Prey March,' " Herzer said. "I really need to teach you some Kipling." He paused and frowned as they swam back to where the dragons were gathered. "Actually, there's one that's more fitting."
"Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling,
From glen to glen, and down the mountainside.
The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying.
'Tis you, 'tis you must go, and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer's in the meadow,
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow.
'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow,
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so."
As he sang the clustered delphinos echoed the song back in weird harmony, the siren song drifting across the dark waters until
finally it died away.
"That's a damned sad tune to start this journey on," Jason said.
"It's a damned sad journey," Herzer replied, taking his place in the protective hemisphere. The plan was to have Joanna take the point with dragons near the surface on all four sides and the armed mer-men in a hemisphere with the unarmed women and a few of the older males in the middle. The latter weren't there just to be guarded. The landsmen and the dragons needed fresh water and they were dragging along barrels of it. The fresh water was denser than the salt so the barrels tended to float but it was still going to be hard going. The delphinos were ranging out as scouts, but at the first sign of trouble they were to enter the protective bubble; there was no way for them to fight either the orcas or the ixchitl. Much less the reported kraken.
"You know a lot of songs like that?" Jason said as the group moved off.
"I love war," Herzer admitted. "It's a damned sad thing, but it's the one thing that I'm really good at. And if you love war, you have to know its face, the good, the bad and the ugly, and there really are all three faces. War has a beauty that is almost addictive, winning or losing. An ancient general said: 'It is good that war is so terrible, lest we grow too fond of it.' Music is to war what food is to sex, a very nice accompaniment. So, yeah, I know a lot of songs and poems about war. For that matter, I'm a pretty good cook," he added with a chuckle.
"You're weird, Herzer."
"So I've been told," the lieutenant admitted. "On the other hand, there are some that aren't quite so dreary. Old Ireland was called the land of sad war songs and happy wars. But Norau was the land of sad, or at least unwilling, wars and happy war songs. Let me teach you one of those."
And so, with the delphinos echoing back the tune through the night-dark seas, he taught the group of mer-warriors the words to the song "March of Cambreadth."
The ixchitl struck at dawn.
* * *
The day dawned clear with scudding winds from the north. On them the clipper rolled south under nearly full sail at almost forty klicks per hour.
