“Crap,” Herzer said, looking around at the sea as if to see a black sail on the horizon.
“We’ll deal with it,” Edmund said. “We’ll deal with it… diplomatically.”
“Who are they sending?” Rachel asked. “Do you know?”
“No. I only know what I picked up in town.”
“Most of the people do not like New Destiny,” Herzer said. “I know that for sure. But I’m not so sure they want to join with us, either.”
“Well, we’ll have to find a way to get them to see the error of their ways,” Edmund replied. “Somehow. I wish the damned ship would get here, but with the winds the way they are it might be a week.”
“What happens if they meet up with the New Destiny ‘diplomatic mission’?” Herzer asked.
“Hopefully they’ll deal with it… diplomatically,” Edmund replied.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Great day to be sailing,” Commander Mbeki said as he reached the quarterdeck.
“Sure, if we were sailing the right way,” the skipper said sourly. The ship was currently on the northerly tack, as it had been for a good half the morning. To sail to the east required turning first one way and then the other, tacking, so that the winds could be caught by the sails. They had been taking long tacks, far out to sea, to ensure that they avoided the shoals along the north side of the isles and the voyage was, unfortunately, taking longer than anticipated. “At this rate it’ll be a week before we get to Whale Point. And what happens if they’ve hared off somewhere else by then?”
“We’ll deal with it,” Mbeki said.
“Sail off the starboard bow!”
They were well off from the islands so it was unlikely to be some stray fishing vessel. Chang and Mbeki both shrugged almost simultaneously.
“We’ll stay on this tack,” the skipper said. “We’ll come up on it.”
“If it’s hostile, it will have the weather gauge,” Mbeki pointed out.
“We’ll figure that out soon enough. Get Donahue up on the mast with a pair of binoculars; I want to know what we’re dealing with as soon as possible.”
In no more than thirty minutes the midshipman called down.
“Square-rigged ship,” he yelled. “Looks something like a caravel. No flags that I can see. Looks like some dolphins swimming around it.”
“If it’s a caravel we can sail rings around it,” Mbeki said.
“Sure, but we don’t have so much as bowmen on board,” the skipper replied. “Get me Evan.”
When the engineer was shown onto the bridge he nodded at the news and frowned.
“I’ve been working on something, but I don’t know that you’d want to use it on the ship,” he admitted.
“What is it then?” Mbeki said impatiently.
“It was an idea that Lieutenant Herzer had,” the engineer temporized.
“The materials he asked to bring on board?” the skipper asked.
“Yes, sir,” the engineer said. “He wanted a way to make the dragons an offensive weapon. He was working on that but I thought I’d make something else.”
“What is it, man?” Mbeki snapped.
“A flamethrower,” the engineer said nervously.
“Shit,” the skipper said, looking around at the tinder-dry wood of the ship. “You’re right, I don’t want that used on my ship.”
“Sir!” the midshipman called down. “Sir! There’s a flag hoisted now, I can’t make it out exactly but it’s red and blue! And they’ve changed course towards us!” The New Destiny flag was blue field with red ND on it.
“That caps it,” the skipper said. “Clear for action, all hands stand by to repel boarders.”
“I have an idea, sir,” the engineer said after a moment. “But we’ll have to have them to port.”
“We’ll figure that out later,” the captain replied. “Get moving on it. And don’t you dare fire that damned thing on my ship.”
“Yes, sir. I mean, no sir!” the engineer said, hurrying to the companionway.
The two ships continued on nearly reciprocal courses, the caravel bearing down on the clipper. Normally it would be no contest; the clipper was far and away the faster ship. But the skipper kept her on her course, headed towards the other ship. After a few minutes he climbed up to the rigging for his own look and returned shaking his head.
“They’ve got a ballista,” he said. “And those are orcas around their ship.”
“Changed?” Mbeki asked.
“Probably.” He stood there with his hands clasped behind his back, feet spread to counter the roll of the ship. “We should show them our heels. We could outrun even the orca over time.”
“With all due respect, sir,” the commander said. “That would look like hell on our report.”
“It would look worse if we lost the carrier,” the skipper said. “We should have brought armed sloops with us, I said it at the time.”
“Yes, sir,” the commander replied.
“But you’re absolutely correct that it would look like hell,” the skipper frowned. “I wonder if our wonder-boy has come up with anything.”
“You want me to what?” the rabbit said. “No way in hell.”
“You said one favor,” Evan replied. “This is it.”
“And I also said ‘nothing unreasonable,’ ” the rabbit replied. “This is clearly unreasonable.”
“No it’s not,” Evan said, doggedly. “It’s more than likely that you’ll survive. Especially if you have the flamethrower.”
“I can do a lot of impossible things,” the bunny said. “But I cannot swim with the flamethrower on my back! Well.”
“You’re not going to swim.”
“This is your plan?” the skipper said, looking at the rabbit at Evan’s feet.
“Yes, sir,” the engineer replied, nervously. “This is all I could come up with on the spur of the moment.”
The rabbit was wearing a black suit with a smoked-visor helmet. Attached to his harness, in place of the pistol crossbow, was a small circular tank with a, yes, rabbit-sized nozzle attached. But the harness still held all his knives.
“This is insane,” Commander Mbeki commented.
“You’re right,” the rabbit said, hopping towards the companionway. “It’s crazy. I shouldn’t do it.”
“Come back here,” Evan said. “I don’t know what happens to you if you go back on your promises, but I’m willing to find out.”
“Damn,” the rabbit said. “Does anyone think that this constitutes unreasonable as well as insane?” he asked hopefully.
“Nooo,” the skipper said, thoughtfully. “Insane, yes. Unreasonable, no.”
“But insanity is defined as unreason,” the rabbit said.
“Not really,” Commander Mbeki said. “Psychotics are, by definition, insane. But they can be quite reasonable people.”
“You’re really going to make me do this?” the rabbit asked. “That’s unreasonable.”
“But it doesn’t matter, if the task is not. If it’s stupid, but it works, it’s not stupid,” Evan replied with the logic of an engineer.
“We really don’t have time to debate this,” the skipper said. “Either you’re going or you’re not. On the other hand, you’re an AI. I don’t feel that I can, with conscience, force you to do something that is clearly insane.”
“Damn,” the rabbit said, trying to scratch through the suit. “I can’t even get to my damned ear. Okay, put me on the catapult.”
Evan had even rigged a small launching seat.
“How long have you been contemplating this?” the rabbit asked.
“When did you board the ship?” Evan said as the clipper fell off to starboard. A ballista bolt from the oncoming ship whistled through the air with an evil hiss and poked a hole in the mainsail.