by John Ringo
"It wasn't finding the shoals we were interested in," the commander said with a chuckle. "It was avoiding them."
"As you say, sir," the engineer said, seriously. "I need to attach one by the captain's cabin. It will just be on the wall in the corridor. Is that okay?"
"That's fine, Mr. Mayerle," the commander replied. "Carry on."
* * *
Joel was back on night duty, the day watch steward having been put back on limited duty. So he was surprised to see the odd box on the wall when he walked down the corridor to the wardroom.
"What's that?" he asked the sentry on the general's door.
"Somebody said it was a gravity detector." The marine shrugged. "Something about navigation. Ask one of the officers."
Joel walked over and examined the box curiously. He could hear it faintly purring and at first feared that it might be some sort of trap or bomb. But without an explosive, it could only hold a small charge of fire-making material. Or, perhaps, poison.
"Who put it here?" Joel asked.
"How the fisk would I know?" the marine said, grumpily.
"Just asking," Joel replied, heading to the galley again.
If that was a gravity detector he was Paul Bowman. The question was, who had put it there and why.
By the end of the shift he had determined that it was the civilian engineer who had put them there and that there were three, one in the officer's corridor, one on the mainmast and one in the forecastle.
The question remained what their real purpose was. Or, maybe he was just being paranoid. But he knew enough of basic Newtonian physics to question that you couldn't get a reasonable reading of gravity using that small of a device. Especially without advanced technology. Now, that it was measuring something, was possible . . .
Like avatar emissions. Bloody hell, that meant that someone else was stumbling around looking for the leak. He recalled, bitterly, what Sheida had said about "not stepping on each other's toes." At this point it had to be clear that there was someone passing information to New Destiny; three attacks, each right on their course, was just too much coincidence.
His only contact point was Duke Edmund. Admittedly, the duke's wife was Queen Sheida's sister, but that didn't mean she was a viable contact. He didn't go blabbing his missions to Dedra and Miriam.
He decided he'd wait until they rendezvoused with the duke and hope like hell that nobody did anything stupid until then. Let it be soon
* * *
The delphinos had had to quit the bay before dawn, as the tide sucked the water back out, but there was no attack from any quarter and the party, after finishing off the leftover rays, started down the passage to the west.
They overnighted in a small bay near the exit to the banks. There weren't islands around them, but the shoals on either side were shallow enough that no ixchitl or orca could pass over them. In the morning the dragons woke up hungry; there hadn't been anything for them to scavenge on the trip across the banks.
"Take them out feeding," Edmund told Joanna. "The deep water is just to the west. Keep an eye out for the carrier; the rendezvous is just to the north of the entrance."
"Will do," Joanna said, climbing up onto the shallows. The tide had come in and the shallows were ankle deep to the dragon but she and the wyverns were still able to get aloft.
"Where does all this sand come from?" Herzer asked, picking up a handful and letting it slide through his fingers. "On shore it's from runoff from eroded quartz. But this isn't quartz."
"It's mostly eroded coral," Jerry replied. "Which is calcium carbonate. I say 'eroded' but much of it, believe it or not, comes from parrot fish . . . droppings. But it's also some pure carbonate. The banks are one of the few places in the world where the temperature is just right for carbon dioxide to form carbonate. It reacts with the calcium in the seawater to make it. Not so much on this section, but over on the far side of the deeps there's a huge bank that is constantly making."
"Which makes it a carbon sink," Edmund noted. "Back when there was hysteria about 'greenhouse effect' and global warming, all that people would talk about is how it was impossible to correct. Admittedly, cutting down ninety percent of the rainforests was silly, but the people who were hysterical about its effect were lousy atmospheric scientists. Tropical rainforests aren't any sort of carbon sink; they recycle too quickly. And they're actually a net oxygen consumer. Oxygen production, and carbon sinkage, occurred mostly in the temperate regions. And carbon sinks were everywhere that the hysteriacs weren't looking. In the banks, in industrial farmlands, in a huge current off the coast of Anarchia. In fact, Norau, which was considered the most wasteful country on earth at the time, was a net carbon consumer because of its plant coverage, despite being a heavy source of carbon dioxide and methane. But nobody particularly cared for truth. They just wanted Norau to quit producing carbon, not realizing that if they did half the sinkage would go away with it. Nor that the warming that was occurring was part of a natural cycle that had been repeatedly proven from historical research. Not that humans have changed that much or we wouldn't be in this war."
"But there was a man-made heat wave," Herzer said.
"In the twenty-third century," Edmund pointed out. "When you're producing sixteen to thirty terawatts of power, the heat efficiency gets very bad. But the carbon dioxide hysteria was just that, hysteria. As real as the Dutch Tulip Frenzy or the Beanie Baby Recession of the late twentieth century when the sudden drop in Tyco sales set off a market panic. Plenty of scientists, most of the atmospheric scientists, were saying it at the time, as well as pointing out ways to increase the rate of carbon deposition. But nobody wants to listen to the voice of reason when there's a good hysteria to be had. Humans are like that."
"Humans were evolution created," Bast said, sitting down in the shallow water. "Must have been evolutionary positive to hysteria in small groups. Whole tribe to pile upon the leopard, perhaps."
"Perhaps," Edmund said with a grin. "The history of the period is so funny at a distance. As deadly in its own way as the present war. The world was in a golden age, and no one would pay attention to it! It's maddening, like looking at the Inquisition histories and going 'Well, duh, why didn't you just try to get along?' Science, engineering, were both expanding, lifestyles, across the world, were improving. The environment was improving. More people were living longer and better lives, in the areas that had decent governments at least. But everyone was screaming that the world was coming to an end."
"Why?" Herzer asked.
"Why did Paul start this war?" Edmund replied with a sigh. "He saw the present trend, falling birthrates, and felt that the human race was on the edge of extinction. The people of the time took present trends, present methods of production, present resources, present population growth rates, carbon dioxide output, temperature increases, and created a straight line model, ignoring the fact that the historical models were anything but straight line. And every time that their doomsday pronouncements were disproved, they just shouted louder about some new looming catastrophe. Over a thirty year span, the same group of so-called 'scientists' first predicted a coming ice age, then that the polar ice caps would melt, then the ice age again! Instead, population growth fell off. Industries became more efficient. Every year a new, previously undiscovered, carbon sink was found. New energy sources were discovered, each of which created a new cry that a resource would be exhausted. People just seem to prefer that the world be a bad place, even when it's clearly not. For chicken little, the sky is always falling."
"Well, I wish I could grab a few of them and drag them into this world," Herzer growled. "Show them what bad really means."
"Nah," Edmund said with a grin. "Bad was the Dying Time. The war is just challenging. Herzer, you're sitting waist-deep in warm water. There's a beautiful elf maid by your side. The sun is shining. The wind is light. Take a look around for a second and tell me you're not in heaven."
"I'm hungry and I need to go to the bathroom," Herzer said, but he
grinned as he said it. "Okay, point taken."
"The war will wait for us," Edmund said, sighing. "It's waiting for us right now, unless I'm much mistaken, just off the coast. But in the meantime, let's just enjoy the sun and water, okay? And not look for a reason for hysteria."
* * *
"Unfortunately, Miss Rachel, your father was right." Evan sighed. "There is a steady power source in the rear of the ship and another that comes and goes. I think, though, that I've traced one of them to your father's room."
"That I know about," Rachel said. "There's a datacube in there. It's also designed to protect the ship against a direct energy strike, assuming that Paul can free some up long enough to attack us."
"That makes one headache go away," he sighed. "Unfortunately, the other one is coming from the wardroom. And it's intermittent. There have been two surges in the last day. But I've been unable to determine who was in the room when they occurred."
"Damn," Daneh said. That narrowed it down to the officers and the stewards; nobody else used the room. And another thing. "I've never seen the rabbit in officers' country."
"Nor have I," Evan said. "It is possible that he's coming up with the reports and then giving them to a steward. But the stewards don't go in the wardroom unless there's an officer that needs something. Or, occasionally, to clean up when they're not there."
"I think I need to ask some more questions," she said, frowning. "I'll be back. Keep monitoring."
"I shall," the engineer said. "Be careful."
"I'll try."
* * *
Rachel had prowled most of the ship but for various reasons she hadn't been down to the marine quarters. For that matter she hadn't paid much attention to the marines; they were just ornaments as far as she could determine. But at the moment, they were going to have the information she needed.
She opened up the door to their bunkroom and then stepped back, closing her eyes.
"Sorry, miss," the marine said. "I've got my pants on, now."
"Not your fault," Rachel said, opening her eyes. There were a round dozen of the marines in the narrow room, most of them in their bunks since they were off duty. The half-dressed marine finished toweling, looking at her questioningly.
"I need to speak to your CO or the senior NCO," Rachel said.
"Gunny's off-shift," the marine said. "He was up most of the night. The CO's awake." The marine gestured with his chin to a door at the end of the corridor.
Rachel walked down the corridor and knocked this time, waiting for permission to enter.
"Yes, miss?" the marine captain asked. He was sitting at a small desk, working on paperwork.
"Captain, I need to ask some of your marines some questions," she said, pulling out a sheet of paper and proffering it. "This is my authority."
The captain frowned and glanced at the paper, stopping to read it more thoroughly.
"This is a pretty blanket authority, Mistress Ghorbani," the captain said, his lips pursed.
"Yes, it is," Rachel said. "And it gets worse. I need to ask them some questions and I need to do so privately. You cannot ask them what was said and you cannot report the questions to anyone on the ship. Is that clear?"
"Very clear," the marine said, his face hard. "Which means you have a problem with something on the ship that you can't even bring to the skipper."
"Not the skipper, not the naval officers, none of them," Rachel said. "Clear?"
"Clear, ma'am," the marine said, shaking his head. "Who do you need to see?"
"The marines that were on duty in the officers' corridor during last shift," she said. "One at a time. Now, where?"
"Here," the captain said, getting up and buckling on his tunic. "You can have my chair. Let me ask you a question; should I turn out the duty guard?"
"Not yet," Rachel said. "Hopefully it won't come to that. Hopefully this is nothing."
* * *
"Nothing," Joanna said as she landed. "Fish, yes. Orcas, ixchitl, the carrier, no."
"The orcas could have just given up," Jason said.
"Not Shanol," Herzer replied. "Not with one eye gone. He's got it in for me, bad."
"They might not know where we're going," Elayna interjected. "I mean, there are lots of places we could go."
"Their intelligence has been too good," Edmund replied. "They've known our movements all along. I doubt that whoever is feeding them intelligence is unaware of our destination, route or rendezvous."
"You mean there's a spy?" Jason said. "Who?"
"I don't know," Edmund said. "I suspect more than one. But I notice that Mosur has been missing since the first attack. And I didn't see him in the square when the ixchitl attacked."
"But he was around for a while after," Antja said, looking unhappy. "He talked to me. He wanted me to leave with him."
"Why didn't you tell me that?" Jason asked, angrily.
"Why do you think?" Antja said. "He's been hanging around a lot lately. I didn't tell you because I could handle it."
"He said something like that to me, too," Elayna said. "But it was before the attack. He said that he thought that you guys," she pointed at Herzer and Edmund, "would bring trouble and he had a place to hide. I just laughed at him and told him to get lost. After the attack I was around people too much, I guess. He probably didn't feel safe coming near me."
"But he would know where we were going," Jason said. "Everyone had been told."
"So we can assume, I think, that the orcas know," Edmund said. "Don't let your guard down."
* * *
"Have a seat on the sea locker," Rachel said to the young marine. She vaguely recognized him as one of the marines who had guarded her father's quarters. "I need to ask you some questions. You're not to tell anyone what I asked. Anyone, is that clear?"
"Yes, miss," the marine said, swallowing nervously. "The captain said the same."
"Not even the other marines I'm questioning," she said. "Don't go comparing notes. Understood?"
"Yes, miss."
* * *
Rachel was on the sea locker now, with her mother pacing nervously in the captain's office and the marine CO sitting back behind his desk.
"All three of the guards, independently, stated that the only person to be in the wardroom alone during their shift was Commander Mbeki," Rachel said, glancing at her notes. "The CO was in his quarters most of the time. He left, but only to go to the quarterdeck. The navigator and the three lieutenants were never in the corridor. One steward was in there, but only while Commander Mbeki was present."
"Okay," Daneh said. "Damn. Mbeki?"
"Can I ask, now, what is going on?" the marine asked.
"Not yet, Captain," Daneh said. "But on my husband's authority, get your guard ready and armored up. Rachel and I need to go see the CO."
* * *
The skipper tossed the letter onto his desk and looked up angrily.
"It is not normal, nor wise, to turn over full military authority to a civilian, Mistress Daneh," the skipper said, his mouth pursed. "Can I ask the reason for this extraordinary document?"
"Let me ask you a question first," Daneh said. "Have you noticed anything about the New Destiny attacks?"
"Other than they have been inept?" the captain asked sarcastically.
"Have they?" Daneh asked, pacing up and down. "The first attack they were beaten off by using the rabbit, an attack that no one could have anticipated who wasn't aware of his full capabilities, not to mention the deal he had set up with Evan, correct?"
"I suppose," Chang said.
"The caravel would have carried fifty or sixty Changed warriors. Despite the valor of your crew, between them and the ballista, it is likely that they would have captured or destroyed your ship, unless you ran. And you couldn't really run, could you?"
"Not without losing days in the voyage, no," the skipper admitted. "Effectively we had to fight our way through. On that Commander Mbeki and I agreed."
"The second attack was by five ships. Even if the
rabbit could have been induced to help you, again, there wasn't much you could have done, was there?"
"No," the skipper said. "Thanks for pointing that out."
"But, again, Evan had a device that he had concocted, more or less without anyone knowing."
"I knew," the colonel said. "Nobody gets on my ship with sodium, gasoline and all the rest without my knowledge."
"The kraken is another example," Rachel said.
"The point is that at each attack, they knew your location and thought they knew your capabilities," Daneh said, stopping her pacing to face the skipper.
"You suspect a spy," the skipper sighed.
"Edmund suspected that New Destiny had an agent on board," Daneh said. "But he didn't know who it was. There were, however, some clues."
"It had to be someone who knew our course and plans," the skipper said with another sigh. "Which means it could have been me. It's not; I'd know," he added with a grimace.
"But that does explain the orders," Daneh said, gesturing at the paper. "The agent had to be communicating. We have managed to track the communications to the wardroom."
"How?" Chang snapped.
"I'm . . . going to decline to answer that," Daneh said. "I'm not sure I want the knowledge getting around. Sorry."
"Don't be," the skipper said. "And who used the wardroom during the period? I guess it wasn't me or we wouldn't be having this extraordinary conversation."
"Sadly, only Commander Mbeki," Daneh said.
"Owen?" Chang said. "I've known Owen Mbeki for years. He's the most trustworthy man I know. There's no way that he's a spy for New Destiny!"
"Unfortunately, skipper, that's who it points to," Daneh replied. "And the evidence, while slim, is going to be more than enough for Edmund."
"It won't be for a court-martial," the skipper replied, his face hard. "And that is what this is going to come to. You'll have to reveal your methods for that at least."
