by David Drake
The yacht rocked as two sailors boarded carrying a large piece of equipment slung to a pole between them. Adele didn’t have any idea what it was. More batteries, perhaps, though she’d have thought the crew had by now stripped every vessel in the harbor that had a compatible electrical system.
Adele stepped around the forward solar sail; its furling mechanism was under discussion by three sailors. The sky was still an hour short of true dawn, but the crew needed to learn how to operate the equipment on which their lives would depend.
She entered the open cockpit just as Hogg left Daniel with a wave and a loud, “Okay, sir, you leave it to me!” Woetjans had been about to speak, but she nodded to Adele in deference.
“Daniel, you said you didn’t trust the ship’s navigation equipment,” Adele said. “The Alliance fleet dropped a geopositioning system in orbit as soon as they arrived. I’ve tapped it. On a minute’s notice I can tell you our location within three meters.”
“You can?” Daniel said. “You did? That’s wonderful! Woetjans, tell Racine to stop worrying about harmonizing the gyros and go help the team rigging the charging system shunts.”
“Right,” said the petty officer as she left the cockpit at a gliding run. After a lifetime among academics, it amazed Adele to see people who moved fast as a regular practice.
“I also modified the satellite controller to void all record of our use of the system,” Adele added. “There’s no risk of anyone tracing us back through our queries.”
“What?” Daniel said in a tenser version of his previous surprise. “Is that really possible? I didn’t think it was.”
Adele sniffed. Her smile mirrored the cold pride within her. “I could do it,” she said. “Though since the trace would have to be done through the Kostroman grid, I couldn’t do it very easily.”
Daniel laughed and clapped her on the shoulder. She blinked. That sort of friendly contact wasn’t a part of academe either. “Well, we’re getting there,” he said. He seemed to relax to a degree as he talked to her. “I want to get under way as soon as the sun’s up enough to power the engines, but …”
He shrugged, grinning like a little boy. “Until it happens, I won’t be sure,” he said.
Palfrey walked down the quay toward the yacht with fishing rods over one shoulder and a large case of some sort in the opposite hand. “The material you’re taking,” Adele said, nodding toward the sailor. “We’re taking …?”
She let her voice trail off in question.
“As of earlier today,” Daniel said, “Cinnabar is at war with the Commonwealth of Kostroma.” His voice now had no more give in it than a stone block does. “I won’t countenance looting by any person under my command, but I’ll cheerfully seize any material of military value.”
His mouth quirked up at one corner; the expression was nothing at all like Daniel’s normal friendly smile. “And if it’s necessary to destroy civilian property to disrupt the enemy’s military objectives,” he went on, “I’ll do that too. One of their objectives being to neutralize my detachment.”
“Ah,” said Adele. “Yes, I see that.”
She wasn’t used to thinking in military terms. She wasn’t a member of the military herself, of course. She wondered if that meant she’d be hanged as a—what, pirate?—if she was captured.
Daniel cleared his throat. He’d turned his head to examine the automatic impeller mounted at the right rear of the cockpit. With his eyes still on the weapon he said, “You know, if that was really the first time you’d used a pistol, you’re a very fast learner.”
He met her eyes and grinned shyly. “And a good thing for us, too.”
“Yes, I’m sorry about that,” Adele said. She caught herself turning away and overcame that embarrassed reflex by effort of will. Fiercely she continued, “I’d misunderstood your original question and I didn’t correct my statement when I did understand. The Mundys of Chatsworth have always been great duelists. That tradition, at least, was one to which my father subscribed.”
“He taught you well,” Daniel said, nodding approval. “My family wasn’t much for duels. I suppose if I’d lived in town I’d have had some training, but in the country it wasn’t the thing. I’m a good wing-shot for bird hunting, but it’s not the same thing.”
“No,” said Adele, “it’s not. As you say, dueling is a skill of urban life, like eating with ruffed sleeves, that I’d prefer never to need. Never to have needed.”
Hogg trotted down the quay, paused, and jumped the narrow gap to the Ahura’s stern. He stumbled as he landed but two sailors grabbed him before he fell.
“It’s all set, master!” Hogg wheezed. “Transmit on fifteen point five for three seconds, that’s all it takes.”
“Woetjans?” Daniel called.
The busy confusion of moments before on the yacht’s deck was past. Lamsoe took the grip of the automatic impeller and rotated it to point toward the buildings. Dawn was already lighting the roofs of the little community. The tiles were fiery orange, and the topmost windows reflected the sun in opalescent splendor.
“All present and accounted for, sir!” Woetjans said. She stood beside the cockpit, splitting her attention between the vessel and the shore. Sailors held the bow and stern lines, which were looped around posts but no longer tied.
“I have the helm,” Daniel said, gripping the Ahura’s joystick control. He squeezed the thumb button; the two masts squealed as they rotated, aligning the solar sails with the rising sun.
“Twenty percent,” Racine called from the power board readouts on the left side of the cockpit. “Thirty-two percent.”
The sailors had rigged four analog dials in addition to the original light-column display. The Ahura was designed for one-man operation if necessary, but Adele wouldn’t have wanted to be that single man even without the equipment the Cinnabars had added.
“Cast off,” Daniel ordered. Sailors whipped the lines they were holding away from the mooring posts.
Daniel’s index finger touched another button on the joystick; a pump began to whir without load. “Fend us away from the dock.”
Barnes and Dasi leaned into poles—cut-down jackstaffs. The yacht quivered, then inched sideways into the harbor.
Daniel twisted his joystick slightly and squeezed the throttle lever. The pump throbbed as water entered it and spewed out the rear. The Ahura drove forward, her bow swinging to port and Woetjans adding her strength to Dasi’s pole to prevent the stern from rubbing.
“Fifty-nine percent!” Racine called.
“All right, Hogg,” Daniel said. His servant touched a key of the cockpit radio.
A white flash lit the underside of Ganser’s truck, still parked beside the ruined harbormaster’s office. The sharp bang an instant later was simultaneous with the billow of orange fire enveloping the front of the vehicle. Hogg’s small explosive charge had ruptured the fuel tank and ignited the contents.
The Ahura drove toward the harbor entrance at increasing speed. The blaze on the waterfront would hold the attention of those in the houses. Lamsoe kept the automatic impeller trained on the community; other sailors had their weapons ready as well, but the yacht might have been leaving a city of the dead for all the response Adele saw.
The masts adjusted automatically so that the solar panels gathered the maximum available sunlight. Daniel was giving orders and the Cinnabar crew seethed with meaningful activity as the shore receded, but Adele’s mind was in a place of its own.
The boy she’d killed had haunted her dreams for fifteen years. Now that accusing corpse would have five fellows for company.
* * *
“We’re at a hundred percent and rising, sir,” Racine called. “Shall I bring the charging system on line?”
Racine was a fitter from the Aglaia’s power room and seemed comfortable with the inside of delicate electronics. The riggers who made up the bulk of Daniel’s detachment were resourceful and extremely good with their hands, but they tended to think in terms of breaking st
rain rather than impedances.
“Not yet,” Daniel said. “I want her up on the skids first.”
He turned toward Woetjans and said, “Prepare to deploy skids!”
“Grab hold, everybody!” Woetjans bellowed.
Daniel wasn’t concerned about the ratings knowing what to do, but he glanced over his shoulder in the other direction to make sure that Adele had obeyed. She held one of the handgrips bolted to the cockpit sides. Her hair, almost as short as that of the naval personnel, ruffled in the twenty mile per hour breeze. This was the best speed of which the Ahura was capable with its hull wet.
Daniel grasped the lever in front of him with his left hand. He drew it back firmly.
The two narrow skids made a grinding noise as they rotated out of their housings in the forward hull. Miniature ball lightnings appeared to port and starboard, six feet from the cockpit. Daniel’s hair rose on end. He’d been aboard electrofoils a dozen times, but this transition phase always made him wish he’d stayed on shore.
The Ahura lurched onto her skids with a crackling roar. Without the drag of her hull the yacht jumped ahead, though for the moment the waterjet continued to provide the propulsion.
The Ahura was levitating on static charges induced in the sea beneath her and precisely equal charges in the skids. Unlike a hydrofoil, the electrofoil could hover at a dead stop without any portion of the vessel touching the water.
“No drop in power, sir!” Racine said. “She’s clean and the current’s still going up. Shall I—”
“Not yet!” Daniel repeated. He set the automatic pilot for 60 mph, then engaged it while watching the bubble level.
The waterjet, the vessel’s last contact with the sea over which she floated, retracted into the lower hull.
The Ahura surged ahead again, her speed continuing to build. The electrical charges were no longer in balance: the induced field migrated sternward by a matter of a few centimeters. The difference meant that the charges’ repulsion thrust the hull forward instead of merely lifting it.
The yacht reached sixty miles an hour and steadied. Windthrust was a serious force, particularly for the ratings on the open deck. Daniel was sure he could increase speed by another twenty miles an hour, perhaps more, but the punishment the crew would take wasn’t worth the increment.
The Ahura was as sweet a craft as a man could wish. She handled this heavy load with a smooth ride and perfect docility in the controls.
“Engage the charging system, Racine,” Daniel ordered. “Cafoldi, come take the helm.”
The batteries would charge from the excess of solar power over the needs of the foils. With luck the Ahura would be able to continue all night without reducing speed.
Cafoldi squirmed into the cockpit. He’d been a fisherman before he enlisted in the RCN. He placed his hand over Daniel’s, then took control as Daniel stepped back.
Daniel relaxed with a great sigh. He hadn’t realized how tense he’d been for how long.
They were well out of sight of land. Daniel met Adele’s eyes and grinned broadly. “Getting away was the first stage,” he said over the wind roar. “Next thing is to get somewhere. Can you find us an uninhabited island at least a thousand miles out, Adele? Say, fifteen hundred miles.”
“I can find an island,” Adele said. As she spoke she squatted in the back corner of the cockpit and drew out her personal data unit. “I can’t guarantee that there won’t be anybody on it, but I can find something that doesn’t have a permanent population registered. There’s probably a thousand possibilities to choose from.”
“Wonderful!” Daniel said. “We’re heading due east now, but direction doesn’t really matter. I want to drop off our prisoners where they won’t be found any time soon. Then we’ll go somewhere else to wait things out ourselves.”
He stepped past Adele and up on deck. Ratings grinned at him, though many had gone to the cabins below. They’d be packed in tight to use sleeping quarters meant for six civilians, but that was the way most of the spacers would like it.
Daniel walked forward to the far bow, bending against the wind of the yacht’s passage. He lay flat with his face over the edge of the deck. Because the hull didn’t touch the water there was no roostertail of spray lifting to either side, but an occasional wind-blown droplet slapped him with its familiar sting.
Below, the vivid life of Kostroma’s seabottom shimmered with a beauty that relaxed him. First, to get away. Second, to plan and prepare.
And finally to come back, bringing the message the RCN had always brought to the Republic’s foes. But that could wait until it was time to think about it.
BOOK THREE
Adele sat in the swivel chair that unfolded from the right side of the bow, comparing the atoll before her with the image projected from the little computer in her lap. The seat and the similar one across the deck were intended for sport fishermen; each was fitted with a rail and safety belt. Even now as the Ahura slid toward the shore on inertia alone, Adele felt better when she was strapped in.
Daniel was at the controls again. Cafoldi stood in the extreme bow, shading his eyes with an arm as he peered toward the water ahead. The Ahura had electronic depth-ranging equipment of the standard to be expected on a luxury yacht, but none of the navy men trusted it.
“Ease her right!” Cafoldi called. The Ahura rode a flat, crackling bubble of electricity. At this slow speed, the ozone which the system generated wasn’t blown astern. Adele’s nostrils wrinkled. “That’s it, just a cunt hair!”
Lamsoe stood at the automatic impeller, scanning the shore. Most of the sailors were armed and on deck, some of them aiming toward the vegetation. Adele wasn’t sure whether they were really concerned about a threat from the island or if they were just showing off with the armament they’d captured from Kostromans of various stripe. It seemed an empty exercise to her.
According to the satellite image, the atoll was comprised of a ring of eight islands connected by reefs. All Adele saw from the sea was a heavily overgrown hump against the lighter green of the water. Small birds flitted from the twisted shrubbery to the sea and back, dipping among the insects; their larger ocean-coursing brethren circled high overhead.
The Ahura glided toward the spill of tawny sand at the island’s left end. Still farther left, water frothed in the currents and occasionally showed the teeth of the coral which combed just below its surface. The next island of the chain was a quarter mile beyond, shimmering like a mirage in the sea haze and the noonday sun.
The Ahura’s static fields collapsed. She slid onto the beach, her hull grinding softly on the coral sand. Daniel threw switches in the cockpit, shutting down all the yacht’s driving systems.
Adele felt enormous relief at the removal of the high-frequency tremble that had been a part of her existence for the day and a quarter of high-speed running. She’d become aware of the vibration only now that it stopped, but it had been present all the time—creating discomfort that she’d blamed on psychological factors.
“All right, let’s get this cargo off-loaded!” Woetjans ordered. “Port watch, haul them up from the bilge; starboard watch stay on guard.”
Adele put her computer away and unstrapped herself. Insects glittered silently in the air, sometimes lighting on her skin with a ghost touch. One brushed her eye; she grimaced and blinked rapidly in an attempt to wash it away.
Daniel came forward to join her. “Lovely, isn’t it?” he said. “A real paradise. Of course, I don’t suppose our prisoners are going to feel that way about it.”
“I’m on their side,” Adele said dryly. “Thus far it reminds me of the unsorted storage in the subbasement of the Academic Collections building, bugs and all. Mind, the lighting’s a lot better.”
She waved her hand in front of her to keep more of the minute insects from landing on her face. It was like trying to sweep back the tide.
Cinnabar crewmen were bringing the prisoners up from below. Ganser and his thugs looked sickly and gray. They’d rema
ined trussed like hogs throughout the run with only minimal time on deck for sanitation.
“Of course,” Adele added, “some of them may be smart enough to remember what the alternative was. I doubt it. People like that prefer to invent realities in which they’re always in the right.”
“Not only people like that,” Daniel said with a smile.
Four sailors hopped to the sand. Four others on deck took the bound prisoners by the shoulders and ankles and tossed them over the side. Adele blinked in surprise. She’d wondered how the thugs would be landed, but she hadn’t expected anything so brutally efficient.
Although … it wasn’t actually brutal. The Cinnabars treated their captives like so many full duffelbags, but the sailors on the ground caught each flung body and lowered it to the sand brusquely but gently. Most of the sailors would have been willing to put Ganser and his killers over the side in deep water, but needless cruelty wasn’t a part of their character.
The sea moved in long swells, licking the shore of the island and surging against the reef. The water of the lagoon stood still and jewel-like, unmarred even by diving seabirds. It was dark blue in contrast to the pale green of the open ocean.
“Where do you want to go now?” Adele asked Daniel quietly. Most of the prisoners had been unloaded; Hogg walked among them with a pair of wire-cutters, snipping the bonds from their wrists and ankles. The Kostromans remained where they lay, perhaps unable as well as unwilling to rise while their captors grinned at them over gunsights.
“We’ll get over the horizon before I decide,” Daniel said. “Probably on a completely different course. I think we’re all right, but I don’t care to test our luck needlessly.”
Adele nodded. She’d set the base unit in the Elector’s Palace to search message traffic, Alliance and Kostroman alike, for any reference to Cinnabar, Daniel Leary, or Adele Mundy. She then used her personal data unit to scroll through the literally thousands of references to Cinnabar. Neither of the individual names had rated a mention.