John Ringo - Emerald Sea

“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.”