John Ringo - Emerald Sea

“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.”

“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.”

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.

“Great day to be sailing, sir,” Jerry said as he scrambled up the ladder to the bridge. “Do you want to launch?”

“Hell, yes,” the skipper said, bellowing for all hands to turn the ship into the wind. When the crew was engaged he turned back to the rider. “I want constant top cover. Keep an eye out for that damned kraken. And, of course, any New Destiny ships. We’re not going to bother parleying; I am not willing to be Mister Reasonable with this cargo.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” the warrant said, saluting. Shep had already been brought from below so Jerry settled his gloves, glad for the first time in nearly a week to be in proper gear, and loaded her on the catapult. As soon as the wind was off the port quarter he launched for the dawn patrol.

Jerry had been recovered and Koo was aloft when the lookout called down to the bridge.