John Ringo - Against the Tide

“Which means no winds,” Edmund said.

“Correct.”

“Word on the Hazhir ?”

“They’re to the north of the storm, sailing eastward. Also to the north of the New Destiny fleet. They’re trying to run the gap between the combat fleet and the invasion fleet. The dreadnoughts are to the east of the main storm and making decent time north to Balmoran. All we can do is ride it out and then get back in the game.”

“Is there some way to work the edges of this?” Edmund asked. “Come around it and avoid the high pressure behind it?”

“We can sail inshore and follow the dreadnoughts,” Shar mused.

“That would catch us between the land and the New Destiny fleet,” Edmund pointed out. “With limited maneuvering room.”

“True,” Shar said. “To the east the storm apparently extends all the way to Briton; no getting around it that way.”

“Head west,” Edmund said. “We can’t afford to be becalmed for two days. Especially those two days. We’ll take the chance on getting caught in the vise.”

“The legionnaire doesn’t look very good, Doctor,” Keith said from the door of Rachel’s office. The orderly had been hanging around a good bit, she wasn’t sure if it was because she wasn’t panicking from the invasion or because he found her attractive and at the moment she didn’t really care. She just wished he’d leave.

“No, he doesn’t,” Rachel replied, not looking up from the medical text she was reviewing.

“And he’s not breathing very well,” the orderly added.

“No, he wouldn’t,” Rachel said.

“What’s wrong with him?” Keith asked, not deterred. “Besides having the side of his head stove in?”

“Subdural cerebral hematoma,” Rachel said, sighing. The legionnaire had been struck, rather hard, by a post that was being set up in the Balmoran defenses. She knew she was going to have to do a trepan operation, basically open up his skull to relieve the pressure on the brain before it swelled to the point of necrosis. She’d assisted in a trepanning operation before, but she’d never actually done one and after losing her first major surgical patient she was not feeling particularly lucky.

“Subd… sub… what?”

“Call it ‘brain bruise,’ ” Rachel snapped. “Look, Keith, I’m rather busy here…”

“Sorry, Doctor,” the orderly said. “Who is going to assist you?”

“Ms. Katherine,” Rachel replied.

“Uhmmm…”

“Don’t tell me she’s gone as well!”

“Doctor, I think it’s just you, me and the administrator,” the boy said, looking unhappy.

“Wh…” Rachel stopped and then looked at him and shook her head. “Why are you still here?”

“Nowhere else to go, miss,” the orderly replied.

“Well, in that case, go scrub up,” Rachel said. “You’ve just been promoted to nurse.”

“Are we just going to sit in the cabin the whole trip?” Shanea asked.

Megan looked up from the light sculpture she was working on. She had been examining the extent of the power available to her, now that she actually had some free time. There wasn’t much; enough for one teleport a day, assuming there was anywhere to teleport that didn’t have a block, and a very few other programs. Not enough to ken or create anything worthwhile. But enough for some slight telekinesis and to create light sculptures. She was experimenting with them. If she could create a real enough illusion it might be worthwhile.

“I’m going to stay in here most of the time,” Megan admitted. She looked over at the girl and shrugged. “I think I sort of got used to being mired in a room. Frankly, the great outdoors has gotten a bit too great.”

The ship was sailing westward under easy winds, but she’d gone up on deck once and been surprised, and displeased, with how uncomfortable even the light breeze felt. It was cold, for one thing, and the vast expanse of the ocean had actively frightened her.

For that matter, the attitude of the crew had bothered her; they treated her like some sort of goddess. Even Shanea and the other girls had been treating her differently. Some of that, she knew, was because of the brutal way that she had removed Paul Bowman; apparently while she was picking up the pregnant women some of the girls had looked in and seen what happened to him. But, beyond that, she was surrounded with the mystique of a council member. The crew treated her as if she might make them disappear, or be Changed into a toad, if they bothered her in the slightest. The girls, either for the same reasons or picking it up from the crew, were beginning to treat her the same way. As if she’d turn them into a toad or pour acid all over them.

There were only a few people who didn’t seem uncomfortable around her: Bast, Amber, Shanea and Major Herrick. Bast was generally skylarking up in the rigging, Shanea and Amber generally visited her in the cabin and Major Herrick… She didn’t really want to think about Major Herrick. And he seemed to feel the same way. At least he seemed to be actively avoiding her. Every time she had the officers to dinner in her cabin he had “other duties.”

And, of course, there was Baradur. He was, as ever, sitting by the door to the cabin. As if the marine on the other side wasn’t enough of a guard.

“You ought to at least go talk to Major Herrick,” Shanea said. “I know you like him.”

“Shanea…” Megan said, then sighed. “I do like him. But I think I’ve had enough men in my life lately.”

“Only Paul,” Shanea said, honestly perplexed. “I don’t think Herzer would be like that. From what I’ve heard he’s a pretty good guy in bed.”

“Shanea!” Megan said then paused. “I really don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

“Well, I’m going to go for a walk,” Shanea said. “If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t,” Megan replied with a grin. “Just because I’m playing hermit, it doesn’t mean you have to as well.”

Herzer had just come up from the dragon deck when Shanea stepped onto the maindeck and he nodded at her.

“How are you this morning Miss Shanea?” he asked, formally.

“Oh, call me Shanea,” the little blonde grinned. “And I’m fine. How are the dragons?”

“Doing well,” Herzer said. “And the councilwoman?”

“The councilwoman has decided to hide in her room for the rest of the voyage,” Shanea said as Bast dropped from the rigging. “Hi, Bast!”

“Heya, Shanea,” Bast said. “How’s tricks?”

“Haven’t pulled any lately,” Shanea said, frowning. “Do you think I should?”

“Maybe after we get to shore,” Herzer interjected, hurriedly. “Is Mistress Travante okay ?”

“She just doesn’t want to come up on deck,” Shanea said with a shrug. “She just plays with light sculptures all day.”

“Light and more,” Bast noted. “I can feel the power wielding. I think she learns what she can do.”

“Well, that’s to the good,” Herzer said.

“Why don’t you go visit her?” Shanea asked. “I think she’d like that.”

“I… don’t think so,” Herzer replied. “I… have to go talk to the captain. I hope to see you later.”

“What time?” Shanea asked. “And shouldn’t you ask Bast?”

“That wasn’t… I need to go see the captain,” Herzer said, giving her a two-fingered salute and retreating to the quarterdeck.

“What did I say?” Shanea said, turning to Bast.

“If I wasn’t such a good judge of humans,” Bast replied, “I’d think you were toying with the poor boy. As it is… I probably couldn’t explain it. How’s your head for heights?”