THE OTHER BIG SECRET 3: SAFELY OUT AT SEA / CH. 8: DECISIONS
TUESDAY, 25TH JULY, 2277, 6PM.
“Hi, Sue.” Amos said. “How did it go?”
“The jeweller apologised profusely, but said he couldn't in all honesty accept any of the pieces.”
“Not good enough?” Amos was surprised.
“No. Too good. He didn't think he'd be able to sell them at a fair price. He says he sells to the rich-tourist trade, mostly, and while they're willing to splurge on something, the price tag he feels he ought to put on it was outside that range. That's based on his earlier life as a diamond assessor, so I'm guessing that he's right about that.”
“Oh.”
“He did allow me to persuade him to let him put the smallest one in his shop window, complete with its certificate of authenticity. If he sells it then he gets twenty five percent of the value. If it's stolen his insurance pays. All legally stamped, verified, etc.”
“Urm... how much was he thinking they were worth?”
“Well, putting it in Atlantis terms, he guessed a kilo of gold.”
“You're joking!”
“Putting it in my terms, two or three years of my income.”
“Wow.”
“At least. Each.”
“I won't feel guilty about accepting that kilo of ham then.”
“Good. So, how is the market for ham?”
“Dropping, like you predicted. According to people that know, the scales-maker only made a two hundred percent profit compared to what she was originally asking. And that was just the ham, after she'd tasted some with her family.”
“So... there's a growing trade in ham and the like?”
“Still no passports, but I need to spread the word about diamonds being worth far more than people think.”
“Yes. Otherwise, how is my favourite forcefield designer? You've been talking to dad, I hear. Mum's just rung.”
“It's all your fault.”
“You're going to make a plane?”
“Not to start with. For some reason we don't mind a kilometre of water above us, but the thought of lots of air underneath us makes most of us scared.”
“Then what?”
“Ever hear about ground effect vehicles?”
“Cunning. With propellers, I presume?”
“Probably. Though I'd like to bet we've got some other options in the archive. Your dad'll be doing the hard work of designing the thing, I'll just play around with some force fields to get them the right shape.”
“I think he looks on things the other way round, so you're probably a good team.”
“I agree. And his company are happy for him to work on side projects as a consultant, so we just need to get me a passport and then I can sign lots of paperwork.”
“You're going to pay him in diamonds, aren't you?”
“How did you guess?”
“Because you're not allowed to... oh... you could offer him enough Pearls to buy a sub, couldn't you?”
“Not personally, no.”
“And this is a personal project?”
“So far.”
“But... dad knows how easily you can get diamonds.”
“I know. He knows I know, too. It's not about the diamonds though, is it?”
“His dream?”
“You've heard about that too, then?”
“Oh yes. Last night, he had the idea of putting wings on a submarine, and flying to space.”
“It could work.”
“Oh yeah.”
“No, I mean it could, actually, genuinely work. It's a variation on an old dream, actually. Escape from land-folk by going into space. The biggest problem has always been a self-sufficient food supply or resupply missions. The second is how to take an ocean.”
“And the third?”
“Why bother when there's everything we need in the oceans, and how do you goof off in space?”
“You'd never store enough energy to launch a submarine!”
“Oh, that one we solved hundreds of years ago. The antimatter devices. They were this great idea for lift-off batteries for a space-sub. The plan was to ionize the air and accelerate it using the submarine's drive. I'm not sure how feasible that actually was, but I guess if a jet engine can work then why not? But then the land-folk started their cold war and the council decided it wasn't a good idea to start a nuclear war by a experimenting with a plasma jet powerful enough to lift a sub. But your dad's idea of using shaped forcefield wings? That ought to make the whole thing far more feasible.”
“You are teasing me, aren't you?” Sue asked.
“No. But I think we'll stick with ground effect for now. Like I said, most Mer are scared of heights.”
“I'll tell you something, Amos. You're certainly not boring to be around!”
“Sorry.” Amos said, realising that maybe he'd scared her off with his crazy ideas.
“Not the right response.” Sue said, confused, wondering why he was apologising for being impressive.
“Pardon?”
“You saying sorry, it wasn't the right response. Surely?”
“Oh. What should I say? I don't want to scare you.”
“You're not scaring me, Amos, you're impressing me. I'm not afraid of heights. And I grew up with dad's ideas, remember?”
“Yeah. That's encouraging.”
“Encouraging?”
“That I'm not going to scare you away with wild ideas.”
“Boring or unreliable are far more likely to scare me away, Amos.”
“I'll try and remember that.”
“Good. What might scare you away?”
“I don't know. But there is something I want to ask.”
“Yes?”
“Your service oath. Is there a time limit on it?”
“Sort of.”
“Could you explain?”
“Part of it says 'As long as I serve...', but there's bits before it too, about protecting my country against aggression, and such like. Those don't expire.”
“Oh. And the bit that does expire?”
“I've got another eighteen months. But.. I've also been asked to consider something, and if I accepted then it'd be at least another five years.”
“Gulp.”
“So, yeah. Difficult question. Your prayers very much appreciated.”
“Of course. But, Sue, that sounds like a long time to wait.” Amos said.
“To wait? What for?”
“I'm sorry, I'm jumping to lots of conclusions, forget I said it.”
“I'm going to jump to conclusions about what conclusions you were jumping to, if you don't tell me.”
“Urm. What sort of conclusions?”
“I'm jumping to the conclusion that by talking about waiting, you are thinking about our relationship might have a future, but that you'd want me out of the navy, if we are ever to ever make any oaths of our own. I guess I can understand that because there's a lot of commitment involved. I'm guessing that your bit about it being a long time means that if I sign on for another five years you'd think that I was saying I didn't think we really had a future together and you'd be looking for another girlfriend and it'd be 'let's just stay friends.'”
“Oh. I guess I'd better tell you what I was assuming... I am assuming that our relationship probably has a future, that it's not just chance that let us meet, but God, and that wasn't just to introduce you to your heritage, or to fulfil your dad's dream. But... that's a lot of guessing. I was assuming that we couldn't take vows of our own while you were in the navy, but from what you've said it sounds like it's not the case.”
“Good job we talked about it, then.” Sue said.
“Do you think we've got a future together?” Amos asked.
“I want us to, but I'm sure that decision's at least a year away. What about you?”
“Ditto.”
“But... if I sign on for longer and we end up breaking up, that's going to be difficult, I expect. And if I don't sign up, and the reassignment I requested comes through, then that's really going to split us up. Physically I mean, because I requested that I be assigned a warship — any warship — instead of a little submarine a midshipman could learn how to pilot.”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“Oh. What's the longer assignment? Or is it secret?”
“Sort of secret.”
“Oh. Sue... just so you know... urm...”
“Yes?”
“Since I was, urm, seventeen, girls, women have found out who my sister was, or heard me speak about my work, and run away. One even did so literally. You're the first who hasn't, the prettiest, and the cleverest.”
“And you're not intimidated by my rank, or a total sleaze-ball.”
“What's one of those?”
“Hmm... slimy kind of shark. Or maybe a jellyfish with entirely too much backbone.”
“Oh. Right.”
“And you keep on impressing me. And do you realise how unusual that is?”
“Given your dad's accomplishments, I can make some guesses.”
“So, I want us to succeed, I want us to get past the 'wow she's pretty and not intimidated'/'what a good swimmer he must be' phase, and work out if we've actually got anything to base a lifetime's relationship on, other than hormones and being each other's ideal match.” Sue summarised, then added “I didn't say that last bit by the way, that was just your imagination.”
“I must have a good imagination.” Amos said “But I do tend to agree.”
“Amos, why did girls run away when they learned who Karella was?”
“Oh, she has a bit of a reputation.”
“As what?”
“Sometimes she's been known to say things like 'Ryllis, why are you still walking together with Zana? You both know it's not going anywhere.' or asking couples who are only a month or two into walking together 'What are you two waiting for? Temptation to get too strong?'”
“Oh. Unasked for relationship guidance?”
“I think it's actually asked for, but she won't say.”
“I guess I can see how that might be scary, though.”
“Are you scared, now you know?”
“No. Actually, I wonder if you could ask her to talk to me sometime.”
“Sue, we hardly know each other.”
“I know. But I've been told I'm going to train a midshipman — that's a very junior officer — to drive my sub. So, it might be that I've got about three days to decide if we don't see each other for a year and a half or can hardly avoid bumping into each other for the next five, no matter how well we're getting on or not and irrespective of how your cooperation goes with Dad.”
“Oh.” Amos said “Right now I'd prefer the second.”
“Me too.” Sue said. “I'm just wondering what your sister would say.”
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TUESDAY, 25TH JULY, 2277, 6.30PM.
“Karella, we need more export controls, or education or something. People are feeding their pearls to sharks.” Amos told his sister.
“This ham trade?”
“It's related, yes. I asked Sue to sell some diamonds for me. Cut ones that Ryllis did when he was trying to train me, remember? I thought it'd pay her back for the wrist units. She told me they were worth more than that.”
“Yes.”
“The jeweler guessed three years of Sue's salary, each. And she's got a good salary. Or alternatively a kilogram of land-folk gold. A wrist unit is roughly a day's income.”
“And people are swapping them amongst themselves for bits of ham?”
“Yes, which is bad enough. But where is the ham coming from? There's got to be someone smuggling them. Quite possibly for gems. It's going to be pearls all over again, only worse, and faster.”
“I have a request from the DeBeers mining corporation, who Sarah tells me used to be the monopoly supplier of diamonds, that they be allowed to set up a trading post here. Sarah said that when they were the monopoly they were accused of various abusive deals, but now they're `more honourable' how's that for faint praise. But I expect they'll be better than smugglers. I also have a stack of similar requests from food sellers, asking the same thing.”
“How would they deliver the produce to Atlantis?”
“The sensible ones ask about that. Others are suggesting things like a floating 'out of town' shopping area. Can you imagine the traffic nightmare if everyone was trying to leave the city to go shopping every day as well as collecting their own lunch? Double the traffic overnight?”
“What's worse than a nightmare?” Amos asked “Chaos?”
“Apocalypse?”
“Hopefully not that bad. So, we extend Atlantis, your majesty?”
“I think so. Quickly, brother mine. Very quickly. I think we'll need another dome, like you suggested once.”
“Forcefields, or crystal?”
“First one then the other?” Karella asked. “Put your guild onto it please.”
“Will do. As for transport, there's the food-collector's boat, but that's busy most of the time. Oh, what about that ancient fifty-seat monster that never seems to be used? That could do some delivery runs, surely?” Amos suggested.
“Probably. But the owner's been asking about how much to charge tourists.”
“OK. Urm, one of the lads had some ideas for a forcefield-operated lift, that might be good for deliveries. I'll talk to them.”
“That sounds an excellent solution if it works! While you're sitting down with the architects to design the dome, plan on putting some accommodation in for tourists too.”
“We'll brainstorm first thing and have some sketches on your desk by lunchtime. So, the plan is that by the time we've built something, everyone gets an I.D chip, and we all swap a diamond or two for some land-folk money, then we can all get fat on ham and apples and the rest?”
“Yes. And you put your personal projects on hold and concentrate on this.”
“Speaking of personal projects. Sue wants to think to you. She's got a big decision to make, fairly quickly.”
“That was fast work, Amos!” Karella teased.
“Karella! No, I haven't asked her to marry me. But she's got to decide if she takes some new assignment or not. By the sound of it, it would mean she comes here quite a lot for the next five years, and the alternative is she might be on a warship for eighteen months.”
“Why does she want to talk to me about it?”
“I explained why some girls I was interested in got scared away by my big sister's reputation.”
“They were just after your muscles anyway, Amos. You were only seventeen and they weren't good matches.”
“You did it deliberately, you mean? It wasn't just your reputation?”
“Sorry Amos, I thought you knew. Tyra wasn't a real Christian at the time, and Japathe is a fourth cousin.”
“She is? I didn't know that.”
“I didn't actually warn them off, but I did turn up, didn't I?”
“I noticed that. All disapprovingly, too.”
“But I've got nothing against Sue, and I am fully planning on letting you and her work everything out yourselves.”
“She might not want to hear that.”
“I'll talk to her. No promises that I'll do more than talk.”
“That might be all she needs. I'll go and knock on some doors.”
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TUESDAY, 25TH JULY, 2277, 7PM.
[Hi Sue! Convenient time?] Karella asked.
[Yes. Thank you for calling. Did Amos tell you what's come up?]
[A bit, he said you'd like to chat. Mostly we were talking about how to make space for all the people who want to set up businesses on, near or above Atlantis. We really don't want everyone using their submarines to visit some floating market place like some companies are suggesting.]
[Oh. Do you have some way to contact Sarah Williams?] Sue asked.
[Yes, why?]
[She's got companies that do commercial leasing type stuff. If you're in contact, I'm sure you could pick her brains about what companies might expect to invest in the whole planning, and building phases, as well as taxes, land rental, water, heat, power.... Come to think of it... she might be happy to trade some of your diamonds as well.]
[I did ask her to get some opinions on some. I'll have to check if she's managed it yet. But you think we should charge companies to come and offer our people work. That seems to be what they're highlighting.]
[Of course charge them! And to use your port facility and then there's customs duty and tax on profits. I personally wouldn't expect many of your people to work for any of those food-suppliers. The pay is not good.]
[We really need a way of knowing how much your money is worth.]
[Yes. I've been thinking about that. You shouldn't use gold, you certainly shouldn't use diamonds, ham, and probably not fish either but that's better.]
[Fish? You'd trade for fish?]
[Of course. People have to go and get it, putting their lives at risk in exceedingly unpleasant weather.]
[Sorry, it's a strange concept.]
[OK, let's not use fish either then. Vegetables?]
[Yes, we'd trade them. Farming is hard work.]
[OK, Karella, if I went to buy food for myself, that'd cost me about forty per week. That's meat, fruit, vegetables, buying what I feel like at the time, and most of the food for cooking from scratch. Students would get by on more like twenty, buying what the shop has cheap that week, and not getting any luxuries more than maybe a bar of chocolate.]
[Prices change by that much?]
[Not normally, but the shops do vary their prices. Mostly it's the luxury items. Ham is not a luxury item, Salmon, however, would be.]
[OK. So, food for a week living extravagantly, forty, frugally twenty.]
[Not extravagantly. If I was living extravagantly I could go to a restaurant and eat little dainty dishes someone's laboured over all day, for a hundred a meal.]
[And you could afford that?]
[Not very often. So that's one way of comparing. I'm guessing your farming involves more hard work than ours. You probably need an economist.]
[Ha! Sarah tried talking to one on my behalf, on Friday. The man got in a total strop and said that our economy was a total disaster, and if it wasn't a complete work of fiction there was no way it would be stable more than three months.]
[Did Sarah forget to tell him something?]
[Yes, that we've not had a total collapse in our economy since we finished building Atlantis.]
[{laugh}]
[But anyway, none of this is much to do with your problem. Amos said something about you coming and going to and from Atlantis a lot for the next five years if you choose one option, and vanishing for eighteen months if not?]
[Oh, that would be an even worse decision wouldn't it? No. Urm don't tell him this.]
[No problem. Or is there one?]
[Just... if I told him the whole truth, then I think I'd be hit with a lot of enthusiasm from him for the new role, but, I'm really not sure it's me.]
[So, what is it?]
[Naval attaché to their majesty's ambassador.]
[You wouldn't be coming and going?]
[No, I'd be poking my nose in to all sorts of things, and saying have you thought of that? Can I take a picture of this? What does that button do? And so on, but in general, trying to help my navy understand mer concerns, and vice versa. While, of course, being a polite official spy. But fundamentally, I'd be based there.]
[Yes. I must say when I heard about the spying bit of the job, I wasn't too keen, but I understand that a certain amount of information passing between friendly but different countries is a good idea.]
[Yes. Like I said, an attaché is a polite spy. If any attaché sticks their nose where they're not invited, you can kick them out. You can probably execute them too, but that's not considered a very nice thing to do.]
[So, plus points?]
[I'd be there. A permanent fixture in Atlantis. If all goes well between us then us marrying in a couple of years would not be a problem as our countries are going to be allies before then, we hope. No travel, no separation for eighteen months when the transfer I requested gets processed. Negative points, if it all ends badly then I'd be there, in a job I don't think I'm suited for, thinking that if only I hadn't run there after Amos then maybe I'd have had command of a warship like I've been dreaming of for all my adult life. That... that could be really painful. Even if Amos and I aren't at the point of screaming at each other, then I can see that being a poisonous thought.]
[How likely is the warship?] Karella asked.
[I don't know. I applied six months ago, re-applied three months ago. Yesterday I got told I needed to train someone to drive quote 'a submarine like the one you drive' As far as I know, my submarine is unique, and there are several other people who qualified at the same time I did, and others who were being trained after me. So I started thinking, 'Oh wow, maybe I'm getting my chance at commanding a warship. What horrible timing.' Today, I got presented with the question of reassignment as attaché.]
[And there's no one you can ask?]
[My commanding officer just said that he'd sent my report up the chain on Friday, and these orders came down yesterday and then the option today.]
[So it could be that they decided you'd been doing attaché style work while you were here, were ideally suited for the job, and have given it to you.]
[I.... I have?]
[Haven't you? You've been finding out things, formatting them in a way that makes them understandable. Amos told me about your report. Clearly argued why, on one hand why we'd be a terrible enemy to have, and equally why we weren't a threat. I really love the way you've identified goofing off as a key part of our culture.]
[Sorry, I didn't want to insult you.]
[You haven't. You're right too. That's the worst thing about our hiding. We haven't been able to goof off enough. We're getting serious. And a serious mer is dangerous. Amos told me you've got outer mer blood. That is what can happen when mer get serious and don't have vows to contain them.]
[That was thousands and thousands of years ago.] Sue objected.
[Yes. But I'm not convinced we've really changed that much. Not really. We've learned some new tricks, but we still keep our oaths, we still keep our knives sharp. By the way, did you tell your superior officer about Amos, and about being half-Mer?]
[I did.]
[When?]
[As part of a cover note attached to the report.]
[So, he might have forwarded that information up through channels too?]
[Urm. I guess so. I hadn't thought of that.]
[Next question. Who would be involved in the decision to assign an attaché to a new-found ally with a different culture, hair-trigger reflexes and sharp knives?]
[Urm, I hadn't thought of that. If I had to guess, I'd say that it might even be the king.]
[Two last questions: your oath. Is it to protect, or to fight? And how can you protect the highest number of your colleagues?]
[Your majesty, thank you. You are a wise woman. I will keep my oath and seek to prevent trouble between our peoples.]
[Your peoples, Sue. For you are of both of us. I can think of no one who will work harder to stop misunderstandings than one who loves both.]
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AZORES BASE, 8AM, WEDNESDAY, 26TH JULY, 2277.
Sue nodded to the secretary who guarded the door to the base commandant. He indicated a seat to wait and alerted the commandant to her presence.
The commandant didn't take long to respond. “Yes, commander?”
“Sir, regarding the reassignment and extension of service I was offered yesterday.”
“You're turning it down?”
“No, sir. You know that I've always hoped to have my own command, and I admit to having some misgivings about the implications of the assignment on my personal life, but my oath of service says nothing about fulfilling my dreams. I do not believe that my superiors would offer me this challenging post if they didn't think I could fulfill it, and I certainly recognise the importance of preventing misunderstandings between our nation and that of the mer-folk. I am honoured to accept.”
“Well done, commander. Very well done indeed.”