Oceana
The next morning we were driven to the suburbs, found our ship, boarded and got ready for the next leg of Mawgri’s business trip. A Putkur passenger also boarded; his scales were white and gray, a color combination that I had not see before, and he wore a simple brown wool bodysuit, a wool cape and hood, and plain, unpolished brown boots. He was shown to his quarters, which were across the corridor from mine, but he kept to himself. I was reluctant to talk to him without an introduction, not knowing who he was.
Mawgri had my camera’s contents fed into a printer that printed the full English version of The Logbook of Captain Christopher Hennessey. As soon as he had dispatched the manuscript by messenger to President Komplas, he gave the order to go and our ship rose with the fifty others into the peaceful stratosphere far above the fighting.
I followed Mawgri into the communications room where he once again used the large digital screen to view the planet. We saw in succession Radimeer’s western fleet retreating back to its home continent, Radimeer’s northern fleet likewise retreating, Ladimeer’s fleet retreating, and Ladimeer’s coastal cities burning. Buoyed by the news of the defeat of the invasion fleets against Saca and Kunwyz and the attack on Ladimeer, Polimeer and Sobimeer stood firm, knowing now that they could receive aid from their powerful allies.
Mawgri scanned into the Foaming Sea, an uninhabitable area a hundred kilometers east of Ladimeer. He suspected that the Foaming Sea had been the staging area for Kunwyz’s surprise attack. On the western edge of the foaming sea was a gigantic reef that ran the length of the continent and blocked any ships going east. Twenty-five kilometers east of the reef was the beginning of an archipelago of low islands formed by volcanic activity. Those islands were actually the tips of volcanoes, and the area was constantly bubbling and steaming and smoking, hence the name the Foaming Sea. The smoke and steam created a hot smog bank that drifted between the islands and the reef.
Between the islands and the reef was a deep-water trough, a canyon that dropped a kilometer below the sea. On that deep stable water a fleet could rest and be camouflaged by the drifting smog bank and protected by the reef on one side and the hot lava archipelago on the other.
Directly opposite Ladimeer, he spotted Kunwyz’s fleet: five large seaplane tenders plus twenty tankers and freighters and a dozen warships protecting their flanks nestled in the Foaming Sea. A western wind had blown the smog bank over the volcanic islands and revealed the clandestine fleet. Mawgri zoomed in until we could make out submarines taking on more missiles from the freighters and two-engine bombers being armed and fueled near the tenders.
Mawgri said, “They seem to be arming for another attack. I’m sure Ladimeer has sent scout planes to try to find them.”
“But wouldn’t the scout planes have been sent out at the crack of dawn?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s possible that the fleet was covered by the smog bank at the time any scout planes flew over the area.”
“True. In fact, the smog bank would not only make the fleet invisible, it would hinder refueling and re-arming, which is why in late morning the fleet is just now getting ready for another attack.”
Our ship descended. We were evidently at our first destination.
Mawgri said, “You will enjoy this stop. Come with me.”
I went with him. “Where are we?” I asked.
“In the middle of a group of islands along the equator. The other ships have deliveries to make, but we can take some time to relax.” The hatch before him opened and he stepped down onto a sandy beach. I followed him.
The air was humid and warm; the sky, pale blue with scudding clouds. He tore off his clothing and rushed down to the water while I watched his muscular form receding. I shed my uniform and my shoes, and then my underwear. I folded everything and lay the clothing atop the shoes.
I strolled down to the water’s edge. Mawgri was already in and swimming. I waded in slowly, feeling the cool surf swirl around my legs. When the water was up to my waist, I lowered myself into it until it covered my head. Then I swam parallel to the shore. For a while I felt like I was on Earth again, swimming in the Gulf of Mexico or the Caribbean Sea. I had not had such massive liquidity around me while I moved smoothly through it for a long time. The only swimmable water on Mars was in man-made swimming pools, and starships used water only for cooking, drinking and bathing and rationed it strictly. I luxuriated in the ocean’s cool, smooth wash.
Then I felt something brush against me and I splashed up and began striding toward shore—I had no idea what kinds of creatures inhabited the oceans of Putkwyz.
Behind me came laughter and Mawgri’s voice, “It’s just me. You were so self-absorbed that I couldn’t resist surprising you. I’m sorry I frightened you. Come back!”
I splashed water at his grinning face and went back in, but I asked, “What creatures does a swimmer on Putkwyz have to be aware of?” We rested with the water up to our necks while he explained.
“In the equatorial region, nothing big comes close to shore, so your life is not endangered. The worst that could happen is your stepping on a poison seabed crawler, but they don’t come after you. It would be an accident. There are also stinging jellyfish to avoid. To my knowledge, none of those stings would be fatal, but you would become very ill for a few days until the toxins are controlled and expelled by your immune system.
“Deep water is another story. Deep water holds quite a few terrors. There are mingos and paukos.
“Mingos are broad-finned, long-necked, air-breathing saurians. They swim in packs, and often hunt in packs; they are quite intelligent. Pups raised in captivity can learn tricks and bond with Putkurs, although they are usually released as adults since they can be very large and difficult to control. They vary greatly in size and coloring, depending on the species. I’ve heard that their meat is very tasty, but I’ve never eaten any. They have been known to attack Putkur fishermen if caught in a net, but have also been known to shepherd Putkurs to safety in the water.
“Paukos are very large fish with large heads and powerful jaws and sharp teeth. They are solitary hunters and gather in groups only for mating. They eat almost anything they can catch, but have a preference for certain types of fish.
“Those two are the most dangerous for Putkurs as they roam near the surface. If a Putkur dives deep, then there are other dangers: dagger fish and vacuum monsters.
“By the way, the Foaming Sea and the adjacent deep trough are the ocean’s most fertile breeding ground, from the smallest creatures to the largest. We leave the deep trough alone because it spawns such a great variety and massive amount of fish that can be harvested elsewhere. You might say that area is the fisherman’s engine.”
“Does this island have a name?”
“Not that I know of. It’s tiny and has no permanent fresh water source and thus no inhabitants except birds and insects.”
Suddenly he pulled me to him and kissed me and made the water around me boil. “Why did you do that?”
“I felt like it. You look so delicious with your wet hair and smooth skin.”
“Why don’t some of your crew come down?”
“Have you noticed that they’re rather hairy and wear long sleeves and pants?”
“Yes.”
“The saltwater mats their hair, and they find the equatorial temperature too warm. Sea swimming makes them rather uncomfortable.”
“Why aren’t you as hairy as most Stuwkreen?”
“It’s the Putkur part of me. Would you like to stay on this island a day? I would leave you supplies, food and water for two days, in case we were delayed.”
“Why? Where are you going?”
“I have something I must do, but it’s a bit dangerous, so I’m giving you the option of staying here until I return.”
“What if something happened to you? Then I might as well die myself. No, let me come with you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. I’m dropping supplies into Radimeer.”
“Radimeer?”
“Yes, to a democratic organization that wants to overthrow the emperor . . . so you understand the danger?”
“Then I’m definitely going. You’ll need someone you can count on for back up. If I’m to die on this planet, let it be in service with you.”
He kissed me again. “Then let’s eat, rest, and prepare ourselves for the mission. Follow me. The seabed is covered with edible creatures.”
He dove into six feet of green water and I went down after him and saw what he was after: large exoskeleton creatures as large as serving platters that were scuttling along the sea floor. They were blue and yellow and had long pincer arms. Mawgri scooped two up by grabbing their rear end in the center and lifting them out of the water, thus avoiding the pincers. I imitated his example and came up with two more. He laid his two on their backs on the sand; the creatures were helpless in that position and could get no traction to right themselves. I laid my catches on their backs as he had done. We each made three more trips until sixteen of the creatures were lying on the beach in the breeze and waving their pincers helplessly about.
Mawgri slapped me on the back and said, “Good work. That should be enough for the entire crew to have platoes for lunch.”
So it was. Despite the crew’s disdain of the warm, salty water, they had no problem eating its creatures. The platoes were boiled, and then cooled, and their now brittle shells cracked apart to reveal thick white meat that was scooped out, quickly sautéed in gwarg butter with salt and slavva and heaped onto platters. The large pincers were also cracked, but left to the eater to open and pull out the juicy white meat. Their flesh had the consistency of lobster flesh, but its tanginess reminded me more of crab meat.
After the crew had eaten, I learned who the mystery passenger was. Mawgri gathered a plate of plato meat, taloos, and wyrd. He covered it, asked me to accompany him, and we went to the passenger’s cabin. Mawgri announced himself and the door opened and we stepped in.
“Good day, Aldeman. I have brought you lunch. Eat, rest, and then we’ll begin our mission.”
Aldeman stood. “Greetings, Mawgri. Thank you.” He looked at me. “Is this the ambassador from the Sol System?”
“Yes, this is Malcolm Talbot. He will come with us.”
Aldeman and I bowed to each other. I said, “Enjoy your lunch, Aldeman.”
Then we left him alone.
On the way to our rooms, Mawgri explained. “Aldeman is an exiled leader of the democratic movement in Radimeer. Part of our mission is to deliver him to his supporters.”
Then we retired to our separate quarters to sleep, although I have to admit that I couldn’t fall asleep right away because of the recent events and questions I had about Mawgri: who he really was and why so many diverse people trusted him. He was more than just a business person, although he obviously was a very successful one. He said that Stuwkreen couldn’t interfere on Putkwyz, yet he constantly involved himself in its politics. Did he feel entitled to interfere because he was part Putkur? But for whom was he working? Sacacon? President Komplas? Aldeman? Or some entity I had yet to encounter?
End of Chapter 12.
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