The Icerigger Trilogy: Icerigger, Mission to Moulokin, and The Deluge Drivers (113 page)

The mast held, the sails held. They were off for Poyolavomaar. Inside the small cabin, the three humans clustered around a stone Tran cookstove. Since the cabin had stayed above water, the stove had remained dry, along with its highly combustible contents. Now a small but intense fire crackled within, the smoke rising through a narrow pipe fashioned from a single bone from which the marrow had been removed. The blaze heated the stone walls of the stove which in turn radiated a luxurious warmth throughout the cabin. The heat would have driven the Tran to distraction, but for the three humans it was an echo of home.

September had stripped off his survival suit and laid it out to dry and recuperate. His naked form occupied one whole end of the cabin. A couple of thick furs lay draped over his legs and like his companions he held his palms out to the fire until the skin threatened to crisp. He was no longer shivering.

“Terrific things,” he said, nodding in the direction of his survival suit which hung from a hook like a discarded skin, “but they’re not omnipotent. There at the end I thought I’d lost it all because I couldn’t climb up on that damn ice. I could feel my legs starting to go numb, or is that a contradiction in terms?”

“If you hadn’t gone for that swim,” Williams told him, “we’d still be floating back there, waiting to sink.”

“Or be swallowed,” Ethan added. “You think they’ll send out the other skimmer to look for us?”

“I doubt it.” September pulled back his hands and shoved them beneath the furs, a blissful expression on his face. “There’s going to be a lot of shouting and yelling when that skimmer doesn’t return. It’ll be natural for Antal and his people to assume it might take a day or two to run us to ground. By the time they figure out their gunners aren’t coming back we’ll be too far out for them to find us. They can’t have long-range tracking equipment.”

“Why not?”

“No need for it, first of all. Even if they did they couldn’t use the stuff. Emissions would be picked up by the survey satellite or in Brass Monkey itself. All they can do is assume their people got us and then crashed or something on the way back.” He grinned at the thought. “Bamaputra’s not going to sleep real well for a while, wondering what really happened.” He stretched out on the combination bed and bench. “Now if you fellas don’t mind, I’m a mite fatigued.”

They were all exhausted, Ethan knew. No reason to worry with Ta-hoding guiding the boat. He lay down next to the exquisite fire and closed his eyes.

The last thing he saw out the rear cabin window just before he fell asleep was Grurwelk Seesfar, standing close by Ta-hoding and staring back the way they’d come.

Ethan could not penetrate the veil she drew over her emotions during the voyage to Poyolavomaar, but he was glad she’d come along. Whatever she was feeling inside she kept to herself and devoted all her energy to retracing the course they’d traveled on the journey south. When Ta-hoding’s navigational abilities failed and Hunnar’s instinctive sense of direction became confused she was ready and willing to choose a path based on her previous memories of travel in this region. Gradually the others came to treat her as a full-fledged member of their expedition and to rely on her knowledge. Ta-hoding accepted her boldness as a challenge and matched it with daring of his own.

An example of the captain’s courage came five days out as they were overtaken by a
wyrsta.
While not as violent as a rifs, it presented a more subtle threat since it was composed of swirling ice particles. These created a complete whiteout. Anyone sitting in the stern was unable to see beyond the central cabin.

A less confident skipper would immediately have turned the bow into the wind, set the ice anchors, and waited for the storm to pass. Not Ta-hoding. With Seesfar assuring him no obstacles lay between their present position and their goal he kept the sail up and maintained speed. Half a day’s travel found them through the storm, whereupon he was persuaded to surrender the wheel to Hunnar. Ice particles had collected in the captain’s frozen fur and beard until he resembled a feloursine version of Father Christmas.

Williams looked back at the storm. “I imagine that’s what a sandstorm must be like, only with ice substituting for sand.”

“I could stand a nice, hot sandstorm right now.” September leaned against the cabin while he perused the southern horizon. “Anything to get warm.”

“Still no sign of pursuit.” Hunnar reached out to tighten a loose stay. “Can your sky people devices track a fleeing vessel even through a wyrsta?”

“Depends on what instruments are being used,” Ethan told him. “I think the ice might scatter high-res radar and I don’t know what it might do with infrared. I’m starting to think that we just might pull this off.”

“
If
we can find the spot where we brought the
Slanderscree
across the equatorial ice ridge, and
if
we can pull, push, or otherwise cajole this windboat back the same way,” September reminded him.

Ethan’s expression fell. “I’d forgotten about that.”

“Do not worry,” said Williams, trying to bolster his spirits. “We’ll find the place again and we’ll get across if we have to carry the boat on her backs. In any event the exertion will help to keep us warm.”

“I’d prefer an induction heater,” Ethan muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

They managed the crossings—though Ethan was convinced his back would break and his legs give out—just as they made it all the way back to the wide, welcoming harbor of Poyolavomaar. Despite their exhaustion the Landgrave insisted on seeing them immediately, whereupon all adjourned to a private meeting chamber in order to avoid the stares and speculative gossip of the court. As T’hosjer T’hos listened quietly to their tale, interrupting only occasionally with a terse, pointed question, Ethan realized that fond as he was of Hunnar Redbeard, the Landgrave of Poyolavomaar was the Tran best suited to represent his world in the councils of the Commonwealth:

He was being premature, he told himself. There might yet not be anything left to represent.

When they’d finished, T’hosjer had a tray of hot drinks brought in. He watched in silence as his guests drained their goblets, the grateful humans not even bothering to inquire as to the nature of the contents. He spoke again as a servitor refilled the containers.

“I do not understand your kind, friend Ethan. What these people attempt beggars reason.”

“Don’t let it bother you.” September leaned back in his chair, held his hot goblet against his forehead and put his feet up on an exquisitely carved table. “We humans have been puttering around with intelligence for about ten millennia now and we don’t understand ourselves either.”

“But why do such a thing? Why condemn tens of thousands of innocent cubs and elders to death? We would be pleased to share our world with any of your kind who would like to live among us.”

September wagged a sardonic finger at the young Landgrave. “Ah, but in that case you’d have to be paid. Commonwealth law requires it.”

“Whenever sentient beings are regarded as nothing more than statistics affecting a profit and loss column, morality is the first casualty of the final reckoning,” Williams solemnly declared.

“Clearly these people have to be stopped and an end put to their evil enterprise.” T’hosjer spoke quietly, thoughtfully. “But how can this be done if they possess the magical light weapons you have spoken of?”

“We’re hoping they had only one of the most powerful kind of light weapon, and we saw that vanish in the belly of something you wouldn’t describe in detail at a polite supper.” September handed his own hand beamer to the fascinated Landgrave. “If all they have left are more of these then we have a chance. Not to defeat them, but to keep them occupied until serious help can arrive from Brass Monkey.”

Ethan nodded. “Milliken will return and confront the Resident Commissioner, explain what’s going on, and see if we can’t have a peaceforcer ship sent from the nearest base to shut these people and their operation down permanently.” He glanced at the teacher. “He’s better at explanations, and Skua and I are better at fighting.”

“The fastest ship in Poyolavomaar will whisk your scholar back to your outpost to give the alarm,” T’hosjer assured them as he rose. “Nor will you brave friends be returning alone. I will mobilize the fleet. But it will take time.”

“It will cheer those we left behind just to know you are coming,” Hunnar assured him.

“Begging your pardon,” said Williams, “and I don’t mean to denigrate your generous offer, sir, but I don’t think that’s a very good idea.” Everyone stared at him.

“If we return alone, we might be able to sneak back into the harbor and aboard the
Slanderscree
without alerting anyone. If we arrive with the whole Poyolavomaar navy in tow, Bamaputra will know we got at least this far. He’ll be forced to attack if only to find out what’s going on. I suggest we allow them to believe we perished along with their missing skimmer. That way they won’t be tempted to throw everything they’ve got at us in an attempt to take the ship. Let them continue believing they’ve achieved no worse than a stalemate. It will save a lot of lives.”

September looked excited. “It’ll do more than that, by damn. If they see us limp back to the
Slanderscree,
the first thing they’ll think is that we didn’t make it anywhere. Otherwise why return? We’re not going to be giving any interviews and they won’t have had the chance—unless they’ve managed to take the ship, which I doubt—to count heads except through monoculars from a distance. Six leave, five come back. I think, we can fool ’em.” He turned back to T’hosjer.

“How long for your best ship to make it to Brass Monkey and back?”

The Landgrave discussed figures with Williams, who transposed to metrics. The results left Ethan nodding with satisfaction.

“Not as bad as I thought it would be. Meanwhile, sir, if it pleases you to alert your forces, then do so. We don’t know how Bamaputra will react to our return and you ought to be ready to defend yourselves if nothing else.”

“Then all is settled.” They rose to leave.

September stepped in front of the teacher. He towered over most men; Williams he dwarfed completely.

“You’re going to be all alone for a bit, my friend. Just you and the Tran.”

The smaller man smiled up at him. “I do not feel uncomfortable among the Tran. We’ve lived with them for nearly two years now. As for human companionship, I’ve spent much of my life living within myself. I’ll be okay.”

“Well, don’t waste time, and don’t stop to ogle the scenery.”

“I intend to stop for nothing.”

The three of them had been together for so long it felt unnatural to be standing on the end of a dock waving farewell to Williams. That was what Ethan and September found themselves doing the following morning as the sleek, narrow-hulled ice ship crewed by the best sailors in Poyolavomaar pulled out of the harbor heading north. Not that either man held any illusions regarding something as archaic as Three Musketeership. They’d been thrown together on this world by accident and kept together by circumstance instead of by choice. But the teacher had been a boon companion; soft-spoken, sensible, and silent unless he had something worthwhile to add to a conversation. They would miss his good counsel.

Skua September was anxious to head back to Yingyapin. His eagerness was matched by Hunnar’s, who though he would not admit it aloud was obviously frantic to be with his Elfa once more. Ethan assured the knight that even if their adversaries had somehow managed to regain control of the
Slanderscree,
they weren’t likely to engage in a massacre of the escapees.

By mutual consent no one discussed what they would do if for some reason Williams didn’t make it back to the outpost. Tran-ky-ky posed plenty of problems for long distance travelers without opposition from the likes of renegade humans. Stavanzers, wandering barbarians, drooms, storms of varying suddenness and awesome power—any one of these could obliterate a ship and its crew. T’hosjer tried to get them to relax. Williams was traveling on the best ice ship this part of the planet had to offer, assisted and watched over by the finest crew an ice-going city-state could put together. He would make it back to Brass Monkey healthy and ahead of time.

“I sure hope so,” September commented, “or there’s going to be a lot of corpses lying in Yingyapin harbor, and they won’t be of ice.”

Ethan eyed him in surprise. “I thought you liked fighting, Skua.”

“When it serves a purpose. A little war between our people and the citizens of Yingyapin won’t do anyone any good. The Tran would be the ones to shed the real blood, and for what? You know, we’re supposed to be the advanced race on this world. It would be to our credit to settle this trouble without spilling any more local blood than absolutely necessary.”

J
UDGING BY THE LOOKS
he drew from passing humans as he trudged toward the administrative complex, Williams knew he must have looked rather like a Tran himself. Weeks out on the ice ocean could do that to a man. His survival suit was battered and discolored, the face visible behind the ice-scoured visor haggard and unshaven.

His companions from Poyolavomaar drew equally curious stares from the local Tran, garbed as they were in their strange attire. For their part, the Poyo sailors valiantly if unsuccessfully strove to gawk at the peculiar alien constructs as inconspicuously as possible. They were fascinated by the distant shuttle port and the smooth, seamless buildings.

The first thing he’d noted upon their arrival was the presence of a shuttle on the ice landing strip. It was in the process of being lowered to the underground hangar dock. He badly wanted to spill his story to its pilot, who could then relay the details to the interstellar vessel lying in orbit overhead, but decided to follow protocol and talk with the Commissioner first. They would be in touch with the proper authorities soon enough.

If anyone had a right to know what was going on, it was the members of the outpost scientific establishment. But what was right and what was necessary didn’t match up at the moment. He had to meet with the Commissioner so she could disburse the crucial information via the deep-space beam. Friends could wait for news of their comrades until the forces of law had been goaded into motion.