THE OTHER BIG SECRET 3: SAFELY OUT AT SEA / CH. 9:LEARNING NEW TRICKS
AZORES BASE, 9AM, THURSDAY, 26TH JULY, 2277.
The base commandant addressed Sue, “Commander Reynolds, this is midshipman Robert Wiseman. He has read your report concerning the Mer people and culture. He considers himself an expert in unarmed combat, and has admitted to me that he finds the line in your report regarding expecting to lose in a fight very hard to believe. Probably because he doesn't remember ever being humiliated in the training arena.”
Sue understood; the commandant was leaving her the option of taking this proud young officer down a peg or two.
“As you may be aware, RV7403, was lost at sea due to operator error, fortunately without loss of anything else beyond the idiot's commission. It has been agreed that it will be recovered by our Mer almost-allies as a gesture of good will, and once it's been repaired, it is highly likely that midshipman Wiseman is going to be given its helm. It is expected that he will be in regular contact with merfolk as he carries out his duties. You will be his trainer for the next month, both in operating the submarine and in any areas of mer culture you feel are necessary to avoid him starting a war. Your assessment as to whether he is likely to embarrass his Majesty's navy in any way will of course be taken very seriously.”
“Very well, sir. Would you feel it would be conducive to his training if I were to humiliate him in the training arena, sir?”
“I am sure that it would wipe the silly grin off his face, commander.
I just hope that you will succeed. He is still at his youthful invincible stage, and I heard you were unwell on your leave day yesterday.”
“I feel perfectly recovered, sir. It was almost certainly some unusual seafood I tried.” Amos had brought her some potion.
“Well anyway, perhaps you should make sure you're up to it. Warm up with thirty or forty lengths of the pool?” the commandant asked. The midshipman blanched slightly at the idea of a sparing match after that much swimming.
“Demonstrating the effective use of the equipment I have available, sir?”
“Absolutely, commander. First, however, midshipman Wiseman might like to see how he does against you without any equipment, say, in a simple five length underwater race.”
“Sir, too much humiliation in one day can't be good for him.” Sue protested with a vicious grin.
“Nonsense!” the commandant said “Let him know you can beat him on land, in water and under the water, commander. Midshipman, the rules are simple: anytime you come up for a breath, you do so treading water. Commander, do you have any objection to the whole of this little contest being a demonstration for the rest of us?”
“No, sir. But I feel that perhaps some more company in the pool might be appropriate. Just so that we can see how the midshipman does compared to others on the base. I'm quite sure I'll win, of course.”
“Permission to ask a question, sir?” Robert asked.
“Go ahead. You can even claim jetlag if you like.” the commandant replied.
“The equipment referred to, are we talking about some kind of scooter?”
Robert asked.
“Not at all.” Sue replied, “But while I was in Atlantis I acquired a set of what they call scales, the fish-like tail the mer use. They will be selling the type I got to tourists eventually, once they've worked out the currency conversion. I ended up bartering, which was rather an interesting experience. I've also got a proper, made-to-measure set on order, which is supposed to be significantly better once you've had some practice. Now, I'd like to point out that I've only been practicing in the scales for a few days, and someone from Atlantis was quite literally swimming circles round me yesterday. Feel free to wear flippers.”
“Thank you, maam.” Robert replied, feeling a little relieved. Forty lengths in flippers was a lot easier.
“Just remember the forty lengths aren't a race. You won't be able to keep up with me anyway.”
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“How did you do that, Maam?” Robert asked, after the underwater race. By the end, he'd been stopping three times every two lengths. He'd realised that the commander had only stopped once every two lengths; Sue hadn't wanted to show off, and she'd beaten him comfortably.
“I've always been good at underwater swimming. I discovered on Friday that my father is mer.” Sue said. “I'm not the practiced apex predator that people raised mer are and I'm not accustomed to goofing off, but I am genetically mer.”
“Oh. I've just been challenged by a mer-woman to a swimming contest.” Robert said.
“No no no, this is just going to be the gentle warm up. You've been challenged by a mermaid to unarmed combat. Get your facts right.” Sue said, tying on her scales over her swimming costume and slipping into the water.
“Did I have the option of refusing?” he asked.
“Midshipman, you cast doubt on the veracity of the report of a superior officer.” the commandant said. “At no point have you attempted to apologise.
If there is justice in this world then you will be entirely trounced.”
“Maam, I meant no insult.” he said.
“But you still don't believe what I wrote.” Sue said. A few strong beats of her tail later she was turning at the other end of the pool. “Hurry up, midshipman. I've done one length already.” Idly she glided back to the other end of the pool where he was still putting on his flippers. The pool was too short, really, and too confining, but it was swimming. She's always enjoyed a good swim, now she knew why. She ignored the midshipman who was thrashing along in his lane making a lot of noise, and started to concentrate on her swimming technique and her flip-turns. It was easier to do that all underwater, so she swam to and fro until she felt the need to breathe. Surfacing she realised she'd lost count of how many lengths she'd done. Her flatmate Tina had been in the lane beside her during the underwater race, and she on the edge of the water now. “Tina “, Sue called, breathing deeply, “any idea how many lengths that was?”
“About thirty. And ten minutes.”
“That explains why I felt like coming up for air might be a good idea.” Sue said, taking another deep breath as she overtook the concentrating midshipman, and turned again.
“Commander, you've done thirty two lengths, midshipman Wiseman has done fifteen.” The commandant offered.
“Thank you, sir. I expect he's pushing himself too hard.”
“Yours was an impressive display of speed, commander.” he added.
“Sir, I was concentrating on my technique and turns, not on speed.” She found she wasn't out of breath at all.
“Then, by all means, give us a few fast lengths, if you don't mind.”
“Not at all, sir.” Sue agreed. She finished the length she was doing on the surface, trying to make sure that she'd re-oxygenated her blood and muscles. Then, she flipped and swam fast. The pool was definitely too short, she decided, breaking the surface at the other end, to gasps of amazement. Taking a breath she swam to the other end as fast as she could, but made a messy turn and accidentally splashed the people crowding at the end of her lane, and went back and forward again. “Sorry about that last turn this end.” she said to her splashed colleagues. Turning to the commander she said, “The pool's too short to for me to go any faster, sir.”
“Do you have any idea what the top speed of a mer is?” the commandant asked.
“Amos sprinted down a fifty kilo tuna, sir.” Sue said between breaths “He says he surprised it, but it still earned him lots of bragging rights and the nick-name 'Tuna-speed', so I'm assuming that even the mer found that impressive. I'm afraid I've no idea how fast a surprised tuna is. It was certainly very tasty.”
“Enjoy your swim, commander.”
“Thank you, sir.” Sue said, and did another twenty technique lengths before coming up for air beside the midshipman. “I've done something like fifty-five lengths, midshipman, I'm happy to carry on, but feel free to declare the warm-up over.”
“Thank you, commander.” he replied obviously tired and breathing raggedly. “I give up, you can clearly beat me in the water.”
“That was never in doubt, midshipman.” the commandant chipped in. “Prepare to be beaten on land too. Do try not to incapacitate him too badly, Commander.”
“I'll allow him to admit defeat anytime he likes, commandant.”
As she walked to the sparring area, she heard Robert decide that she must be a thought-hearer. She was probably six metres away.
“That took you a long time to work out, midshipman.” she said, over her shoulder. “If you've been paying attention, you will also note that I have a range that corresponds to my genetics. I also point out to you that what you now know is not public knowledge.” But she had told Edwin over the weekend, finally.
“Might I ask what ranking you hold in unarmed combat, maam?” he asked, almost catching up.
“Formally, I am black belt, fourth dan.”
“I am eighth, maam. Expect to be beaten.” he said entirely too smugly.
She turned to face him. “As all thought-hearers who compete, I only complete for belts with my thoughts hidden. Else there is no contest, no honour.
"You did not listen when I told you twice of the time in the pool as a gentle warm up, and from your foolish pride you sought to race, when there was no race. You have tired yourself out needlessly, even knowing you would face one who all expect to trounce you. Now, you will fight without the control you might have had when fresh, your reactions will be slowed, your thoughts and decisions will betray your plans, and yet you still act with the arrogance of someone proud of his three dan stripes on his belt, towards an eighth dan master who wears a plain black belt.
"You have come to be educated, there is no dishonour for me to educate the student who speaks proudly of things he does not understand.”
Reprimanded, he remained silent.
He was good, Sue noticed, even when tired. But since he was broadcasting his every intention and she didn't have her receiver turned off, it was simplicity itself to respond to his every attack, quite boring in fact.
Robert Wiseman, on the other hand, was running out of ideas. Not one of his attacks landed as he intended, none of his follow-ons or feints worked. What was worse, to his mind, was the bored attitude with which she faced him. She was right: he'd tired himself out with the swimming, and he felt his muscles reacting slowly to her attacks. He was not defending at his best, but that was only half the point. His teacher was ninth dan, and Robert was able to land some attacks on him, and make him work at defending himself. Now, facing this woman, he was at a loss. Nothing connected! He tried a desperate move. If he connected properly it might disorientate her, but it was risky.
“Idiot!” she snapped, as he launched himself at her. Her instant reaction had been to step move away, but she altered it, accepting the blow and rolled with it to lessen its impact, allowing him to technically score a hit, and then she pinned him to the floor with ease. “If I'd responded to that properly I might have put you in hospital. You knew you were beaten, but continued. Why?”
“Urm. Didn't want to admit defeat, I guess. I'm not used to losing.”
“Exactly. That attitude among the mer is going to get you dead. We'll spar daily until you do get used to losing. To make it interesting, sometimes I'll fight you with my thoughts hidden, sometimes I'll start that way and then start listening, and sometimes I'll just trounce you. You will learn to realise when you're against a superior opponent, and if you try anything suicidal again, I'm going to declare you unfit for contact with merfolk. Understand, sailor?”
“Yes, maam.”
“Good. And then you're going to practice the same approach on others too.”
“Maam?” he asked, confused.
“I am not going to personally fight every person on this base. I will convince the commandant; if you are eighth dan, you must teach. In your teaching you must not destroy the lesser student, you must educate.”
Sue heard him think that his teacher had said he must learn to teach too.
“I do not have the temperament to teach, commander,” he said. He liked winning too much.
“Then in my book you are not truly eighth dan, you are just an arrogant first or second dan who knows some moves, and until you learn to at least pretend to have the right temperament then that is what you will stay. All dan are teaching ranks. So. On your feet.”
“You still pin me, maam.”
“Yes. Get up.”
He struggled. “I cannot.”
“Then learn your first lesson. Did your mother teach you nothing?”
He finally got the point. “Please will you release me, maam?”
“Certainly.” she did so. “What did you learn today?”
“I cannot beat someone with combat skill who is a thought hearer.”
“And?”
“I need to apologise.”
“And?”
“I cannot swim as well as you, nor can I cannot dive as well as you.”
“And I cannot swim, dive or knife-fight as well as my tuna-killing friend. And he, while he is fast, is not the best knife fighter amongst the mer. As I said in my report, the mer-men concentrate on hunting, the women on fighting. It is not just play, or sport to them, it is survival. So, if you get into a conflict with a mer-man or mer-woman with the attitude you fought me today, then you will probably die. And if you were on my crew, then what I would put in my report would be 'he failed to obey safety-related orders and died as a consequence.' And I would apologise to the person who put you down like a mad dog for any insult, pain or discomfort. And that way, there might not be as much embarrassment to our government.”
“But... the value of human life!”
“Is high, yes. Would you run with a knife in your hand towards his majesty?”
“Of course not.”
“Or towards another head of state?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I'd probably be shot.”
“Because you'd be seen as a threat, or because of who you'd be seen as a threat to?”
“Probably the latter.”
“OK. Imagine yourself on the edge of a war-zone. You're in a bar, there's a bunch of soldiers of another nation, who have just returned from a battle where they'd seen their friends or family members killed. Human nature being what it is, right now they seem to want to be having a good time. Would you do anything that might seem like a threatening move towards one of them?”
“They'd rip me to shreds.”
“Exactly. Consider the mer to be in that state of mind, and tread carefully. They have lived with that level of stress for three thousand years, or more. They have feared being seen by us, to the extent that parents did not try to prevent ships from dropping depth charges on their children, but tried to hide instead. If you go in to that situation thinking it's your natural right to land a blow every fight you get into, then you're fish-food. Like I wrote, if you get hit or sliced open in a fight, then you apologise, because you caused it and at the moment you're still breathing.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, maam.”
“Good. Then let's start again.”
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5.30PM, AZORES BASE.THURSDAY, 26TH JULY, 2277.
“Congratulations on educating our young martial arts expert, commander.” the commandant said,
“Did you receive the wildly exaggerated version of the rumor, the mildly exaggerated version, or were you somehow one of the few who got a true and faithful account?”
“I probably spread a mildly exaggerated version, since I watched. Very well handled, commander. Your war-zone analogy is almost certainly something that ought to be spread. We're all aware of what combat stress does to people.”
“The thing is, sir, I think it is a metaphor. What it seems to me that they've done is enshrined those reactions in their culture. A fourteen year old girl who's lived in Atlantis will probably not have seen those things, but she will be quick with her knife. The response to drunken seduction, for example, that's not a reaction to an immediate threat, but a dishonoured woman has every right to carve off the wedding tackle of the guy she went to bed with the night before, walk away with his wallet or marry him. I must admit, it's effective.”
“Effective?”
“Zero rapes since the law was passed. Of course, the adult population is ninety five percent committed Christian. But statistically speaking, there ought to be a few guys who can't restrain themselves.”
“But the women are all armed and the law says carve him up if you feel like it?”
“Exactly.”
“So how long do they spend sharpening those knives of theirs?”
“They don't need to. You could cut steel with them and they'd still be as sharp. They use the same stuff to cut diamonds.”
“I hope they're not planning to sell them to tourists then.”
“I think they've got good attitude there, sir. For their own safety, tourists are not going to be permitted to carry or buy anything that might even look like a weapon.”
“And embassy staff?”
“Tricky problem there, sir. I raised the issue with their queen. They don't really mind protection officers carrying stunners if they have to, except that they make as much noise in the ultrasonics as a cannon. I know, sir, I had the misfortune to fire one, and had ringing in my ears for weeks. But firearms? Cracks on the inside of their dome really scare them. We're far more likely to get permission to use a short-range version of their light-sabres than to take guns inside.”
“Light-sabres?”
“What they call a stone cutter. I saw one in operation and I thought, oh look, he's got a light-sabre. Only it's more useful, you don't need to throw it at something a long way away, you just twist the knob and select 'yes I really know what I'm doing and I'm not inside a building.' There's five separate safety interlocks to get it onto that setting, which doesn't surprise me at all, considering what it would do to Atlantis or the neighbours.”
“And you can see a glow?”
“Only when it's cutting, and that might be plasma from the annihilated stone. There's a laser spot or cross-hair so you can see what you're going to slice, then you press the button and it does.
"I don't know how they get the depth control, or what it's using for power, but I wouldn't be at all surprised if it was ripping atoms out of the material, not melting it. There was no slag, no molten rock, not even any smell, just fine some dust.”
“So you think it's an X-ray laser or something like that?”
“If you told me it was making an artificial black hole along the cutting blade I might believe you, except they call it a laser cutting device.”
“I was meaning to ask you, you wrote that you've got a carved stool?”
“Yes, sir. Amos was rather concerned it would fit into the submarine, so it's not a large stool. I think It'd be better to call it a coffee table, actually. Would you like to see it?”
“Certainly.”
“Being a lump of rock it's not exactly light, but I can bring it tomorrow. Or actually, would you and your wife like to come to dinner tonight? Amos has his nice shiny passport and is planning to bring some fresh fish along.”
“We wouldn't want to intrude...”
“Sir, we're not going to be gazing into each others eyes. I believe it may be useful for Amos if you were both present, actually.”
“Useful?”
“Amos and the other members of his guild of forcefield geeks have been given the challenge of building a trade-park that will become part of Atlantis; a second dome. Eventually the forcefields will be supplemented by the same harder-than-diamond crystal walls that the current dome is built with. The architects are doing their part, and the naval architects are moaning about what it'll do to the hydrodynamics and the propulsion systems, and so on. But they don't seem to have anyone who knows about logistics, sir, other than 'Oh, we could put in a forcefield lift'.”
“Trade for an entire city of half a million?”
“Yes, sir. Half a million people, most of whom thought, until yesterday morning that trading a two carat uncut diamond for a kilo of ham sounded like a good deal. I guess they thought it was like caviar or something. I'm sure they'll go back to eating fish sometime, but right now they think croissants, meat and strawberry jam are the most wonderful things they've ever tasted. Oh and potatoes. I suggested that maybe a three metre by three metre cargo lift might not quite fit the bill.”
“They can actually start forcefields under water? I thought they needed to stay bone dry until they were operational.”
“They can do all sorts of impossible things with forcefields, sir. Electrical power is not an issue, and they've already put their construction subs to work cutting up rock to be the floor and counter-weight of the trade park.”
“So they need a cargo port, complete with a cargo distribution centre, transport...”
“And they've had enquiries from various cruise ship operators if there would be any chance of them offering cruises to Atlantis. And hotel chains too. They're basically thinking that trying to accommodate all that in current Atlantis is going to be an utter disaster, so they'd like a connected trade-and-tourist city.”
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“It has to be connected?”
“Traffic is already bad. They don't want everyone using their private submarines to go from one to the other. They're also thinking long term though, the and tourist trade city will eventually be entirely self-sufficient, just in case the dome starts to crack and they need to evacuate old Atlantis.”
“So this trade city will be as big as the current one?”
“I'm not sure. I don't know if they know that yet. Lots of ideas, no firm solutions.”
“They need an urban planner as well, don't they.”
“Yes, sir. Am I right in thinking your wife is one?”
“That's what she trained as, yes.”
“As I said, sir, it would be quite helpful if you could come and talk to Amos.”
“And not detrimental to your romance?”
“It has occurred to us both, sir, that if we get this part of joining our two cultures together done right, we might learn quiet a lot about each other in the process and give ourselves more time for romantic walks later on.”
“Not romantic swims?”
“Sounds idyllic, but there's lots of songs about the happy couple going for a romantic swim in what ends up as a shark. Historical songs that is, sir, relating real events. The ideal merfolk honeymoon apparently involves a swim together, with both being very self controlled and alert, followed by finding pretty deserted island where they can relax together. Unfortunately, these days, you need to pay and check into a hotel on most such locations, because we've caught on.”
“Next question... what is the chance of us getting an invitation to Atlantis?”
“Quite high, sir. Quite high indeed. Your wife would of course need to see the current city, talk to architects and so on if she was to be a real help, and of course with your naval logistics background it would be really useful for them to listen to you. But since it's been going South at about ten knots, I'm afraid Atlantis isn't just an hour or two away now. So you'd probably need to arrange for leave, rather than go for the night like my brother did.”
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ATLANTIS, 9AM FRIDAY, 26TH JULY, 2277.
“Karella,” Amos said “Please allow me to bother you with revised, revised, revised sketches, care of Sue's commandant and his wife.”
“What's this thing that looks like a harbour?”
“It's a self-propelled harbour, made out of lots more rock, iceberg-style for stability in bad weather. That tower thing is a cargo crane, and that connects to what we're still calling the cargo elevator, which we scale up so it can take a couple of their shipping containers each trip, otherwise we'll never be able to keep the stores full. The other side of the harbour is for cruise ships.”
“What are we going to do with shipping containers worth of stuff?”
“We're going to eat it, Karella. If we're going to get rid of the ham trade, then we're going to have containers of food coming in until people decide it's cheaper to go and find their own fish. We're going to need a way to get data to the surface, so their suggestion is that we have a lot of fibre-optic cable down a supplementary shaft beside the lift shaft.”
“And yours, I presume, involves someone looking up the designs for the predecessor to the stonecutter?”
“Exactly. Why dangle bits of string which will need to be rolled up really carefully if Atlantis moves, when you can have a laser link?”
“But you will be dangling 'bits of string' for the lift, I presume.”
“For the passenger lift, yes. But for the cargo, I'm actually thinking, why bother going to all the trouble of emptying a massive volume of water out of the shaft so you then have enormous problems stopping the container from dropping like a stone? Let's just make the forcefield lift box like we're planning to anyway add a slab of rock and an up/down drive to it. It can still go up and down a forcefield channel, but let's let buoyancy do its thing.”
“And the drive would pump water from the channel to above and below the container?” Karella asked.
“Exactly. Ancestor Jacob would be proud of us, let's have these lifts working as a hydraulic piston.”
“I don't think ancestor Jacob knew much about magneto-hydrodynamics, but it certainly sounds a good idea. But why not do the same for the passengers? Isn't the whole system much simpler?”
“We'd need some air tanks in case of a problem.”
“So?”
“And that'd probably need a lift operator.”
“It'd probably make the tourists feel happier, anyway.”
“And it'd block the views.”
“Why not just put the drive pipe up the middle?”
“Because I'm not a genius like my beloved monarch.”
“Go on, get on with it! Oh, how's the rock base coming along?”
“Just about ready for some air injection to help it float, so ahead of schedule, actually. But Ella, I know you said personal projects on hold....”
“Yes?”
“Last night's discussion with her commandant was a massive help, his wife is an urban planner. I'd love to invite them for the weekend, it'd be really helpful for the whole design team, but Atlantis is almost at full speed, and according to Christoph we will be by the end of the weekend. That means every day we'll be getting an hour's journey time further from Sue's base.
Either I don't see her again until until she comes here, or we move back north again, or everyone wastes days travelling.... or, with your permission, I spend half a day, and follow her dad's instructions and make my sub into a flying fish. And before you ask, the external fans I'll need were already in the fabricator's queue when you said no time on personal projects.”
“And a whole two weeks is too much time to be apart?”
“Urm. I suppose when you put it like that...” he shrugged.
“How fast does he think you be able to go?”
“Probably about three times faster, so by next week that'll be three and a half hours travel time instead of more than ten. How long are we planning to stay there?”
“Staying time is undecided. Largely depends on any radiation levels, I expect. That's going to be a fairly hair-raising three hours, isn't it?”
“I've got the radar, remember?”
“Oh! I'd forgotten your sub was that old.” old submarines had been equipped with radar for use above water. Amos's sub was thus an ideal machine to convert, assuming that the forces didn't destroy it. “You're certain that you're not going to destroy your submarine? I'm fairly certain that Sue would be almost as upset with you about that as I would. Assuming you survive.”
“I'm reliably informed that it should be able to cope. It was designed for surface use, after all, so it's got the aquaplaning hull and the bottom drive intakes. It's already been strengthened for the cheat device and the cargo wings, and you know mine was set up to be an experimental platform, so I've got the extra control channels, so what I'll be doing is reshaping the cargo wings. The fans will connect to the drive plates, and fold mostly out of the way for when the sub is being a sub. I'll lose a bit of top speed, but I can test the wings just by turning them on when I'm being a surface speed boat.”
“You've got it all planned, you mean.” Karella said.
“Erm, yes. I just need to fit the fans and work out all the forcefield parameters.”
“And when did you have time to work out all of this?”
“Oh, most of it before I ever spoke to Sue's dad.”
“I didn't know you were that far ahead with it.”
“Well, he wasn't that sure it'd work, but he's fairly sure now.”
“Fairly sure? I don't want you smeared all over the landscape, brother mine.”
“I'll take slow careful steps.”
“And someone with a fast boat to pick you up if something goes wrong and you crack your hull, or your skull”
“You mean I can?”
“If you're really that far advanced, and certain it'll work, then it'd be silly not to wouldn't it? You'll save half of that time bringing Sue, her commandant and his wife for the weekend. Pass on these designs to your team, get them to work on them, and then concentrate on working out if Sue and co can get here by flying fish, or if I'm sending Mabel and Sathie to pick them up.”
“Thank you, Karella.”
“Just make sure you talk through all the plans for the trade city. And try not to die while you're testing it, OK?”
“I'll try, sis. I'll even wear a full harness and a crash-helmet.”
“Good.”
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ATLANTIS, 1.30PM, FRIDAY, 26TH JULY, 2277.
“You know, our fabricators are some of the most wonderful people on the planet. You tell them, 'I'd like to turn my sub's drive units into ducted fans with such and such thrust when I'm above the water and fold out of the way when I'm in water, and a few days later they say 'here you are sir.' Sue is absolutely convinced she has no idea where do get such service on land.”
“So, how much did you pay for them?” his friend Theophilus asked.
“Never you mind. Your boat is fast enough as it is, and you don't have the hull space for the wings anyway. Or the right hull shape.”
Theophilus had what was generally agreed to be the fastest boat in Atlantis. It's speed was undoubtedly due to the fact that it barely had space for two people, without much luggage, and rather than the normal arrangement of a drive tube either side, his had six overgrown drive tubes. He admitted it was silly and impractical, but he'd found a wonderfully rich pocket of gold once and had indulged himself. He liked speed.
“You mean, I'd need to get my boat melted down to look like yours if I wanted it to go as fast as yours might be able to do?”
“Even if mine works, Theo, it's only ever going to go quickly about a metre above the waves. And as my dear sister has pointed out, I might crack my hull or my skull in this little test.”
“Hence you want a chase boat. Yeah. Have you tested those fans?”
“Yes. Only at low speed of course. It would've really embarrassing to break the rope and dent my boat on the rock.”
“And you've double checked the wings you get are the right shape?”
“It's too crowded down here. I need to go up to the surface.”
“So why are we standing around here?”
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“How does the shape look?”
“All measurements good, by looks of it.'
“Why are they that funny purple colour? Why can I see them at all, in fact?”
“I decided that people might get seriously scared if they saw a flying submarine without wings.”
“Are they actually glowing?”
“Yes. I couldn't make them reflective, or anything normal like that, but I could make them glow.”
“Will I be totally unable to understand the answer if I ask you how?”
“Urm.... probably. Want to try?”
“No. I want to see your monstrosity fly.”
“First I'm going to try getting up onto the plane without the wings. I've never done that, you realise. Then I'll slow down to more sensible speeds and see what happens as I speed up. If I can't get back onto the plane then I'll turn off the wings, get planing and see if I can get airborne.”
“Sounds like a plan. How fast will you be when you're planing?”
“Not sure. I didn't look it up. More than fifty knots, I think. That's the whole point, it's supposed to be cheat-mode fast, but it's not exactly invisible or quiet.”
“OK. Well I'll use cheat mode, of course, and as long as you don't go over two hundred, then I'll be able to keep up with you easily.”
“I thought your boat had a top speed of more than that.”
“It does, deep.”
“OK. I'm just trying for straight lines at the moment, so if you do need to go deeper to catch up then fine.”
“You think it might be faster than two hundred?”
“The land-folk have some surface boats that go at that sort of speed. They don't use fusion power, but they do use propellers, and they don't weigh as much as my sub. So... I've no idea. Maybe I should have read up on aquaplaning more. It's certainly supposed to be unpleasant.”
“So why are you starting with planing?”
“Because that's probably how I get airborne, and it's certainly how I'll land.”
“Ah. Got it. Ready?”
“Yep. I'll just strap myself in.”
“That uncomfortable?”
“Yes. Or worse.”
Once he'd strapped himself in, Enoch adjusted the various settings on his boat, selecting that he wanted power to the bottom drives only. He drained the ballast tanks, and eased forward on the power control. Thirty bone-jarring seconds later, he slowed to a stop, and spoke to Theo on the ultrasound device they used among themselves. “You know I said it was supposed to be uncomfortable?”
“Yes?”
“It was really uncomfortable.”
“OK. You hit sixty-five knots.”
“That's what my instruments said too. Not bad.”
“Not bad at all. Wings next?”
“I think I need to do some steering. It'll be gentle, but I need to get the hang of this.”
“OK. You enjoy shaking your teeth loose. Don't flip.”
“I'll try not to.”
Steering was surprisingly easy, but Amos was careful not to do anything too quickly. It felt dangerous. He told Theo that he'd be going in a straight line with the wings turned on next. There was an immediate difference, as he increased speed to get to the planing speed, he found that he wasn't getting the same buffeting, but he was also getting warnings from the drive unit. It was getting air. He slowed down and reported to Theo.
“I'm getting lift, and less power.”
“How come?”
“Air doesn't conduct as well as seawater.”
“Oh. Next step fans?”
“Yes. I'll turn them on for five seconds at about a quarter power, and see what happens.”
“OK.”
What happened was that he flew. He didn't have anything like an airspeed indicator, but it seemed that he was going faster than he had when planing.
He reduced power to the fans and settled back into the water.
“You went awfully quiet for five seconds there, Amos.” Theophilus said.
“I was airborne. Any idea how fast I was going?”
“Faster. Maybe a hundred? I was going sixty five. Stable?”
“Seems to be. That was quarter power.”
“Is your next step turning or more power?”
“I'll do turning first, I think.”
“Have you got radar on that thing too?”
“Yes.”
“And it's on?”
“Oh yes. It sounds funny, but it seems to work.”
“Can you judge distances with it?”
“Not yet. But it's got a display too. I'd forgotten that.”
“Well you try going in circles or figures of eight then, and I'll surface so I can see where you are, OK?”
“Absolutely.”
Theophilus saw Amos starting a very gentle turn to start with, and then increasingly sharper ones, but even these did not seem to be very sharp, without the wing tip getting dangerously close to the water. It looked like Amos would not be doing any high speed manouvering in the air. Amos throttled back to speedboat mode. “Theo?” he called.
“I'm hearing you.”
“I got told I wouldn't be able to steer much; very true. I'm guessing I've got a turning circle of more than two kilometres, but what did you see?”
“Not much, but I'd guess at more like three of four.”
“Hmm. Flies like a bird, turns only slightly better than a laser. I'm going to head towards you and Atlantis from here, increasing speed as I go, OK?”
“Fine by me. You sure you want to go towards Atlantis? I thought your friend was the other way.”
“She is. But this is still testing. I can always turn round.”
“OK. I'll head towards Atlantis too, and you see if you can overtake me. The big problem with chasing you is I can't go fast on the surface.”
“I know. But at least you'll know which way I'm going.”
“Yeah. OK. Go for it. No, hold on. This is silly. There are enough boats around, let's get some volunteers to surface a nautical mile apart and see how fast you're really going.”
“Theo, you're a genius!” Amos exclaimed.
----------------------------------------
ATLANTIS, 2.15PM, FRIDAY, 26TH JULY, 2277.
It only took ten minutes to organise a fifty nautical mile course. It seemed that everyone in the area was interested in seeing what was probably the world's first flying submarine.
Amos turned on the wings and put the speedboat drive on, easing in power to the fans too. He had plenty of acceleration from the boat drive, so he was airborne within only a few hundred metres. Slowly he increased the power, and saw the first submarine flash past on his left. He wasn't flying over the observers, that would have been too risky. There didn't seem to be any problem with stability, so as he passed each submarine he increased the power another five percent. For the first few, anyway. but... they certainly seemed to be passing quickly. He was sure that he didn't want to get near the speed of sound, which he knew was about 660 knots. It would probably mess up all Henry-Lamura's calculations. So... more than ten submarines a minute, or less than six seconds a submarine, was getting dangerous. He tried to estimate the time between them, and decided not to increase power beyond 80% - without looking at his wrist unit he thought he was doing about seven seconds between submarines. That seemed plenty fast enough. He passed the last submarine, and reduced power, slowly; he knew that the fans would offer drag, and he really didn't want to have them blown out of the back of the ducts.
The ride had been fairly smooth, not as smooth as underwater, of course, but perfectly acceptable. He wondered if he'd get a wrist unit signal... No. the submarine was too good a Faraday cage for that. Telling Sue would have to wait.
----------------------------------------
ATLANTIS, 2PM, FRIDAY, 26TH JULY, 2277.
[Hi Sue.] Karella called [Amos said he had a good chat to your commandant and his wife last night.]
[I thought it went well.] Sue said
[He also said that he'd have liked to invite them here, but travel time was getting to be a problem.]
[Urm, yes.]
[Now, my family's boat is bigger than Amos's, and has three cabins and beds for six. If my daughters left soonish they could be with you by seven or eight, I'm sure. They could then set the autopilot to bring you here as an overnight trip, or alternatively go quickly and make it here by midnight. Do you think your commandant and wife would be interested?]
[You'd send your daughters on such a long trip?]
[Long? That's not long, that's only four hours, most of it on autopilot. Mabel's piloted more than twice that far on her own before.]
[Sorry... more presuppositions. I'll ask, but I expect the answer is yes.]
[Great. I'll let them know. And Amos, too. He was planning to come and fetch you, but, really, I think I need him here, for the rest of today anyway. I'm assuming you'd come too?]
[With my commandant's permission, all things are possible!]
[Great. I'd like you along, if nothing else so my girls have someone they know on board.... I know Amos let you drive his sub, but....]
[My commandant shouldn't even ask?]
[Exactly. I don't want my girls panicking and causing an incident.]
[Of course not. Would you consider Amos letting me drive as urm... shall we say hormone influenced?]
[It certainly wasn't anything I put him up to. It was a big risk, actually in a number of ways. But I won't go into that now.]
[I'll go pass on the invitation.]
[Thank you]
----------------------------------------
ATLANTIS, 3.15PM, FRIDAY, 26TH JULY, 2277.
[Karella, your Majesty, I am Eliza.]
[Hello, your highness! Please don't majesty me. We are sisters in the gift, after all. How can I help?]
[I am sitting in a security briefing, concerning a series of photographs that have just been taken near Atlantis. An automatic system has just detected what it thought might be a water-based cruise missile launched from inside the exclusion area and heading in the direction of Atlantis.]
[{fear}We're still here at the moment.]
[Yes. We're glad about that. I'm afraid the system isn't that rapid, unless we can program it with a specific location to warn about. With Atlantis moving... that's tricky. So, anyway, this was about half an hour ago. The supposed missile didn't fly right for a missile, and it flew over the top of Atlantis and then slowed down and stopped. So, we don't think it is a missile, but the system just thought it was. That was due to a radar signal that almost but not quite matched a missile system that was current about a hundred and fifty years ago. The pictures don't look like anyone's testing a cruise missile, more like someone's experimenting with something, but people are a tiny bit worried, you might say. The other thing that's odd is that in some pictures it looks like a submarine, in other ones it's got wings.]
[Ooops. We need a way of letting everyone know of experimental testing, don't we? My brother's sub is about two hundred years old, and unlike most these days it can run on the surface. To help with navigation, it's got radar. He is actually just testing a set of wings for his sub, from forcefields.]
[A set of forcefield wings? On a submarine?]
[Yes. Sounds silly doesn't it? He had the bright idea of plugging some electrically driven fans into the drive system of his submarine and trying to turn it into a ground-effect vehicle with some forcefields.]
[Ah. I'll pass word around if that's OK. Can we ask him not to use it for a while, say until the radar profile is altered, maybe? If he gets near land with that radar system on, especially if he's hugging the water, which of course he will be, he's very likely to trigger an automatic defense mechanism and be shot down.]
[I'll tell him.] Karella promised.
[Thank you. As for letting each other know... That's one purpose of the attaché system. It's a shame this didn't happen after our attaché was in place.]
[That has quite a funny side, actually.]
[It does?]
[I'm pretty sure that if your attaché was in place he wouldn't be thinking of sprouting wings to meet her.]
[Oh! Same brother?]
[Yes, I've only got the one.]
[We must talk more.]
[Of course! But for the moment, I'll let you get back to your meeting.]
----------------------------------------
[Amos, turn your radar off.] Karella called.
[Urm, it's off. Why?]
[You're triggering automatic systems. Your radar signal looks like a cruise missile, apparently. I was about to call you anyway. It's all very well for you to risk your own neck in your flying fish, but I really don't think we need to risk a diplomatic crisis over how a naval commandant got hurt in a barely tested flying submarine, do we? I'm sending the girls, they'll want Sue along as a familiar face.]
[Oh. Good point I guess.]
[So, did it work? I'm guessing it did since their systems thought someone had fired a cruise missile at Atlantis.]
[Eek.]
[Exactly. You came back straight this way?]
[Yes. Theo realised that he couldn't do it all himself, so we called for volunteers. Timing wasn't exact, but it looks like I got up to about four or five hundred knots.]
[Impressive.]
[Scary, actually, since that wasn't full power. I hope I'd have run out of thrust before getting near the sound barrier, but I don't want to find out. I didn't try turning at that speed either. At slow speeds it turns only slightly better than a laser.]
[So, more work needed?]
[Yes. It's going to a long time before I let any teenagers near one, anyway. But it's a working prototype with some scary sides to it. And somehow I'm going to need an airspeed indicator, and some way of communicating. My wrist unit doesn't work; I tried it as I was slowing down.]
[Hmm. Yes. So, you'll need to talk to lots of people about changing your radar system so you don't get shot down, find out about what radio frequency the land-folk want you to talk to them on, and all sorts of things like that.]
[Yes. But it works.]
[It does. And it doesn't interfere with your cheat device?]
[Urm, it shouldn't.]
[Good. Come home, brother, there's a trade city to build, and assuming her commandant decides he can take the weekend off, you can spend all weekend holding Sue's hand. You don't need to rush off to meet her at nearly the speed of sound quite yet.]
[Ella! It wasn't about...] his thought trailed off. [Oh. It was, wasn't it? It was really all about seeing more of Sue.]
[Of course it was. You, my brother, need to face the fact that you are in love. The beneficial side effect is that with your little invention about ten percent of our boats can potentially be converted into flying fish, once you solve the other technical issues. And that means very good things for diplomatic contact.]
----------------------------------------
AZORES BASE, 2.15PM, FRIDAY, 26TH JULY, 2277.
[Hello, Commander Reynolds.] Eliza thought
[Oh! The mystery voice! Hello! How can I help?]
[Do you know what a class epsilon state secret is?]
[Urm... something so secret even the category doesn't officially exist?]
[Yep, the link between my name and how I'm thinking to you now. So, there's a clue for you to puzzle over, if you like. But I think we're going to be talking quite a bit, with your new role. So, would you like me to just come out an tell you?]
[Gulp. Can I think about that for a while?]
[Of course. Anyway, I've just been chatting with Karella about the little crisis your boyfriend has just caused.]
[Amos? What's he done?]
[Turned on the radar on his sub, which apparently looks really like an out-of-tune Exocet-cruise 500b. Could you please educate him, or whoever is in charge of radar sets in Atlantis, about radar signatures, friend or foe systems and the like?]
[Of course. They have radar?]
[On old submarines like Amos's which can turn into speed boats, apparently. Or in his case, even fly.]
[He flew? I thought it was still all on the drawing board!]
[You can imagine what the AIs think of something showing a radar signature like an Exocet-cruise flying straight towards Atlantis at 510knots.]
[I'll throttle him! He said he was weeks away from testing!]
[Apparently love conquers all.]
[Not rail-guns.]
[Exactly. How's your student getting on?]
[Technically he's doing OK. Attitudinally... let's say he's progressing.]
[That's good. Their majesties suggest that if you don't mind and the Atlantis government agree, it might keep the world a little less stressed if you and your student were in the advance party.]
[You want midshipman Wiseman to go to Atlantis?]
[Problem?]
[Actually, it might be just what he needs. But on the other hand if he's not able to learn his lesson then he's liable to get his stomach sliced open.]
[Cultural insensitivity?]
[Excessive drive to prove he can land one blow, even if it kills him. Problem is that it might. Maybe I should try to arrange for him to get his face pummeled by a fourteen year-old princess. With her mother's permission, of course. It might solve his attitude once and for all.]
[You think he might be less likely to go to extremes against a fourteen year old princess?]
[It's possible. I also think she's as good at unarmed combat as I am, technically, anyway. I've got more strength, of course.]
[But you're not unwilling?] Eliza asked.
[Not at all. If I'm in the advanced party I can try and make sure no one gets in to a nasty fight.]
[Are the merfolk that aggressive, then? That's not the impression I got.]
[No, they're not aggressive. But if the soldiers or sailors that visit try acting tough, and won't back down when challenged, they might get themselves classed as dangerous sharks. If there's no one around with a blow-pipe then that'll get messy.]
[So... no alcohol for military stationed there?]
[Hmm... I hope not. The ones who are most likely to get in trouble are also the ones most likely to find themselves an illicit source. If it were up to me I think I'd just say if you're a serviceman and you get yourselves declared a dangerous shark by the good people of Atlantis, then you pay your own hospital bills, or if it's too late for that, your corpse can be fed to the sharks according to local custom.]
[I'm pretty sure it will be.] Eliza said.
[Pardon?]
[I'm pretty sure that it'll be up to you. All military staff assigned to Atlantis are going to be navy, or seconded to navy, for obvious reasons, and therefore under the command of the senior ranking naval officer. i.e. you. You did want a command, didn't you?]
[Naval attaché is a command position?]
[Of course! You don't think the ambassador's going to want find him or herself in the line of command for a bunch of sweaty sailors do you?]
[I... I guess I didn't realise that.]
[And since you're going to be dealing with the local government then any special arrangements for our staff are going to be negotiated or not by you. If someone disobeys your orders to back down immediately in any case of conflict with the mer, then you can court-marshal them for disobeying orders and possibly even oath-breaking, can't you? At which point, of course they pay their hospital bills. Though, perhaps, asking the family if they want to pay for the body to be shipped home might be more diplomatic then just feeding it to the sharks.]
[... and I'd be able to count on support from my superiors in this stance?]
[What, that we don't want special laws for our people? I don't think we normally do. Hold on, I'll just ask Albert.] Eliza did that and said, [Albert agrees, and so does her majesty, and I agree with myself too, of course. Different sets of laws breeds resentment in the local community, and we don't want that.]
[Urm... was that another hint?]
[I suppose it was. Shall I tell you?]
[I don't know if I have a need to know.]
[Ease of conversation. You will be talking to Karella, it may be that sometime you need to ask her to talk to me. And descriptions don't work.]
[Pardon?]
[I can read the mind of anyone I can name. If I see a stranger, I cannot read the mind of 'that man there in the hat'. I can find out his name, or I can make up a name for him, but I cannot read the mind of them unless I have a name in mind that links to them. It might work if you say you need her to talk to a woman called Mystery Voice, but... Eliza works better. Karella knows who I am, of course, but we haven't talked much: she's one of the busiest people I know. Anyway, you are trusted to know this, Sue; guard the knowledge well.]
[In a country full of thought hearers, your highness?]
[Well, try, anyway.]
[I will. Perhaps it is better if I continue to think of you by your other name: Mystery Voice.]
[Good idea.]
[I have a question I've been pondering, if you don't mind? It's nothing personal.]
[Go ahead.]
[I don't know if I'll do anything with the answer... but I was wondering if the truthsayer vow is compatible with my oath of service, do you have an opinion?]
[I know a number of people in Internal Security who are truthsayers. I know the oaths are not quite the same, but they're not that different. Is there a particular issue?]
[There's a bit in it about not revealing stuff I overhear. If it's relevant I have a duty to report it.]
[Oh, that one. I wondered if it was the one to not deceive, that's caused some problems for a friend.]
[Really?]
[She's in Auditing, sometimes that work needs her to get people to believe she's not who she is. Nothing in the oath is intended to make you into an accessory to a crime, Sue. So, if you think there's a problem, add an exception, and we'll call it the military version of the oath. Actually, I'll raise the issue. If there is a problem, it might explain why we don't have any military folk signed up as far as I know.]
[You're saying we, maam?]
[I don't expect I'll ever wear my mask, and you're not going to see me at a meeting, but I am a member. And before the association was founded, I did once serve in a similar capacity.]
[You mean you were a truth-sayer before the association existed, even?]
[Yes. But that's hardly unusual. We just borrowed the term, after all.]
[I only told my brother a week ago. That was pretty tough, so I don't know if I'm going to sign up even if you do have another oath.]
[Well, there's an Atlantis branch, so I'm sure you can call on their services if you need to.]
[Oh! I didn't know that.]
[There's a trainer still there, as far as I know. Listening quietly is quite a tricky skill to learn.]
[I'm sure.]
[Anyway, take care. I don't know when you're going to find yourself relocated, but....]
[I'm invited there for the weekend.]
[Pack quickly, then. You might find yourself being ordered to stay.]
[What about my student?]
[No space for him to go with you?]
[I don't think so. Karella's daughters are taking me as someone they know, and my commandant and his wife so that they can see the sites before the tourist invasion and give some expert advice — his wife's got a doctorate in urban planning, and Karella has decided that Atlantis is crowded enough already and they should build a second dome to house trade and tourist interests.]
[That sounds like a major undertaking.]
[I think the world is going to be surprised. The merfolk can move very fast when they choose to, it seems.]
[But most of the time they choose not to?]
[Exactly. I remember seeing a film from centuries ago talking about how people of the future would have all this wonderful technology and it would give us more leisure time. The merfolk seem to actually manage that.]
[Oh, bliss. But you're mer yourself, genetically, aren't you?]
[Yes. But not culturally.]
[I know which one's easier to learn.]
[Ah, but should I, as a loyal servant of the crown?]
[In your role, it would be a distinct asset to be able to function in both cultures, and explain one to the other.]
[And if I can't explain why we do things?]
[How about admitting we've got traditions too?]