Chapter 34 - Flexible Fishing

The impeller came completely out of the water, goblins tumbling off the crank assembly and rolling toward the bow. Several goblins hoisted spears and ran to the front of the ship. But that just made the list worse as we started to move on the line.

“No, no! To the stern! The stern!” I shouted.

Some stayed to throw spears at the thrashing shadow in the water. But enough listened to my orders that we got the back of the trawler back in the water and I started working the impeller myself, cranking as hard as my little goblin legs could pump. Neil joined me, and I reached out and turned the ring with one foot, angling the vector of thrust to keep us steady in the water.

The river monster pulled against the line, and wood creaked. My feet were wet in the bilges from where the bow had dipped so low it started to let water in.

“Boss!” shouted Chuck from the shore, pacing his clifford back and forth. “I think you got somethin’!”

“Ya think?” I muttered. Another goblin came up, and I traded places with him and stumbled my way to the bow. In the water, the river monster had swallowed the offal bait, helpless to resist the siren song of javeline tripe. It gnawed and clawed at the line. But I still hadn’t forgiven it for the goblin it had dragged off. I locked eyes with it as I gripped the lever built into the forward assembly and yanked.

The retaining bar on the flex-a-pult built into the bow of the ship slipped out of its bracket, and the pole under tension snapped taut, yanking the river beast out on a perfect parabolic arc. It soared above the staring goblins and had just enough line to strike the rocks on the shore. hard.

Angular momentum is a bitch. The back 2/3rds of the river monster turned to instant puree with a sound like a gunshot, splashing fish guts over everything within five meters—which included the wranglers and their cliffords. The dogs leapt back, yelping in surprise and fear at the noise and sudden movement. And then leapt back in as they realized lunch was served. The wranglers tried to rein them in, but eventually just dismounted and joined in before the dogs ate all the best bits.

The front third of the river monster still gripped the offal bait with teeth and claws. It had held on better than the goblin rocket jockey from earlier that morning. I looked at the shocked expression on its fishy face—which, I suppose I’d be surprised too, if I’d suddenly accelerated at 20+ G’s and come to a terminal stop.

Wait… ugh. I can’t believe I could commiserate with 1/3rd of a fish.

“Wicked,” said Neil, surveying the damage as the boat drew closer to shore. “Lunch is on, lads!” he shouted. “Truss some up to take back!

The goblins all abandoned the boat in a frenzy of blue fur and flashing teeth, reducing the few recognizable parts of the salamander in a few minutes, stuffing their faces with some and wrapping the rest in leaves and stowing it in baskets for the evening meal.

I watched the carnage, shaking my head. “They’ll be useless all afternoon,” I said.

“Waste not,” said Neil. Not one to mince words, but one for minced meat. I clambered up on Chuck’s clifford, which only growled at me this time. Chuck finished chewing what I think was half a liver and swung back up into the saddle. He offered me… I’m not up on my fish organs. But my stomach growled. I sighed and took it. When in Lanclova…

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We wheeled around and bounded south back toward the bluff. I heard another shwoosh…. POP! and looked up to see a starburst in the sky at the end of a spiraling rocket trail. I wondered if this goblin had remembered to let go.

Guess not. I shook my head. Definitely needed access control on the sulfur. With how much goblins enjoyed a free launch, I felt like about two thirds of the tribe would willingly go full Major Kong and ride a rocket all the way to the big goblin graveyard in the sky. Then again, with what I had planned for the rest of the day… well, maybe I was the one that ought to be worried.

We reached the bluff just as a load of bricks was going up the lift. Chuck ground to a halt so suddenly I tumbled over him and my leg caught in the netting. Chuck leapt from the back of the clifford and latched onto the net next to me.

“You’re not slated to go on this run,” I said, confused.

He barked a laugh. “You think I’m going to let you out of my sight on this thing? I’m launching right after you. Besides, you owed me a glider.”

“That I did!” I gave him an upside-down salute as the goblin counterweights passed me headed the other direction. Truth told; I was glad for his presence. Of all the verbal goblins, Chuck was the one I trusted the most. The hobgoblin was capable, clever, and hard-working. His crew had rescued me, brought down a night haunt on their own, and now he would be watching my back. Once up, I waited for the minders to hook the load and pull us over onto the bluff before dusting myself off.

Most of the tribe still on the bluff was gathered around the eastern rails, where I’d launched the glider from the greased rails to go explore the other bluffs. Sally had the prototype heavy glider mounted up, and Eileen waved at me from the front where she was strapped in. Six of Sally’s engineers were attaching long, wooden devices to the underside of the glider just outside the rails.

“Just in time, boss! You want to take the reins for this one?” asked Eileen. She’d adopted a skull mask of just the orbital bones and a rough hide cap, which made the bones look a lot like a pair of old-timey flight goggles without the lenses.

“Nope!” I said. I moved over and climbed to the netting on the glider. “I need to make sure you can function without my micromanagement. I’m just here for the in-flight movie.

“Good, I’d have fought you.”

“You’d have fought your king?”

“And won!” She reached over and grabbed a pair of semaphore flags made out of two colors of fur. “Preflight checks!” she shouted. Her crew assembled and took their places as she hoisted flags and watched their responses. Satisfied, she called out “Passengers aboard!”

Almost a dozen goblins climbed aboard, including one of the two new scrappers. Each of the goblins had a basket strapped to their back like a parachute. I joined and fixed myself in place with the available cord.

“Safety disengaged!” Eileen shouted.

I looked around for Sally. “You included a safety?” I asked.

She lifted one hand and wiggled it about. Sort of. One of her goblins unhooked a rope from the rear of the glider. Two more approached with hot coals. I tightened my grip on the frame. Just like the first time I’d flown, I started to feel an invisible pressure that I’d come to recognize as the System’s direct attention. I’m not sure why it was so interested in flying, as compared to hunting or fishing or whatever any of the civilized peoples of Rava were doing. But then, from what Rufus had said, no one on the planet was doing anything as interesting as experimenting with flying machines—not that he’d seen, anyway.

“Begin launch sequence! Step 1!” shouted Eileen.

The two engineers held the coals to the ends of the rockets. One of them didn’t get out of the way fast enough as its motor caught and started to burn. The goblin went up in a bright burst of glowing blue fur.

The other motor caught as well, and the flames became a torrent that lurched us forward. Two of the passengers lost their grip and fell off the back of the glider, which solved my concern about adding my weight to the flight. I held on for dear life as the roar mounted and we slid along the wooden rails towards the ramp, teeth chattering from the vibration. This takeoff was going to be at a much higher speed than my first flight with the glider. The aircraft rattled so bad I thought it might come apart in the violence.

But then we were off the rails, into the afternoon sky, and still accelerating on the icky-sicky rockets.

“What’s step 2?” I shouted over the rush-roar of the rockets.

“There is no step 2!” Eileen shouted back.