We Are Legion (We Are Bob)

Book 5: Chapter 50: The Big Guy



Book 5: Chapter 50: The Big Guy

Book 5: Chapter 50: The Big Guy

Howard

June 2344

Jabberwocky

Bridget managed to get herself ensconced in the Research Division, which was a not-completely-incorrect translation of the dragon name for the table-and-scroll group. She wasn’t one of the senior scribes, thank the universe. That apparently always involved de-feathering, and neither one of us was willing to stand still for that. But Bridget had displayed just enough reading skill to make the librarians think she’d be useful as an assistant and gofer. Maybe the scribes wrote down their latte orders or something.

In any case, she was taking every opportunity to ask questions and pick up more of the written vocabulary. And fetching food and tuev.

And speaking of tuev, Ursula seemed to have the kind of sense of humor that people sometimes killed you for, because she apparently thought it would be just a rip-snorting rib-splittingly funny thing to transfer me to Supply and Logistics, where I was assigned to—wait for it—brewing and providing tuev to the army. Yeah, funny girl.

It was only a cover story, of course, so I didn’t really mind, but the thought of her chortling around the campfire about how she’d pulled one over on the noob made my teeth grind. I resolved that if I could ever get her assigned to keel control, it would be a good day.

But meanwhile, Bridget had gotten a whole lot more info on Alexander, although much of it was contradictory. We were sitting in our apartment in Trantor during a dragon sleep period, and she was updating me.

“The unofficial word is that Alexander is from the western continent—”

“Nope,” I interjected. “No dragon population. Mario said so.”

“I know, Howard, but that’s the story. He supposedly sailed here on that canoe made from metal given to him by the Ancients—”

“If you stretch the definition of given, sure.”

“Say, who’s telling this story? Mind shutting up?” She glared at me, and I made a zipping gesture across my lips. “Thank you. So he sailed here and discovered that the fish are dying off, and he wants to take everyone back to his continent, where the land flows with milk and honey. Or the local equivalent.”

“Come the socialist revolution—”

“Howard!”

“Sorry.”

She gave me another glare, then continued. “There are a lot of holes in his official history, not the least of which is that he seems to have local friends from way back before he first supposedly appeared on the scene. Also, of course, the Ancients are just a myth. But at least we know his endgame. He’s trying to get a large number of dragons across to Lemuria.”

“But why is he capturing all the floaters?”

“Because he only has one canoe, Howard. Dragons can’t make that flight. There aren’t enough thermals over the ocean to glide on, and dragons don’t have the range in flapping mode.”

“But floaters avoid the ocean.”

“I don’t get the impression he intends to ask politely. They’re being tied together, and he’s got teams learning how to drive them by controlling their keels. Also, if he takes a lot of floaters, he can lose some and still make it.”

“Fine, okay, he can theoretically pull it off. But why? Because fish stocks are falling? It seems like an overreaction.”

“I don’t know, Howard. Maybe I can convince him to talk to us … ”

“Hopefully without getting beheaded.”

“I’d prefer that as well, thanks.”

*****

We stood, staring at Alexander on the throne, and I took the opportunity to get a close look. It actually appeared to have been assembled from stone, mortared together into an oversize chaise of sorts. Obviously designed to impress visitors. ?Ã?????

Alexander regarded us indolently. He was not physically prepossessing, at least in terms of size. But he obviously had what it had taken to raise, control, and maintain an army big enough to absorb all of dragon civilization.

“I understand you have concerns about my plans,” he finally said. Not in a mocking tone, either, which was unexpected.

Bridget glanced at our guards, then, plainly deciding to ignore them, plunged right in. “I understand now that you’ve been tracking fish stock, and I understand that you want to take people to the west continent before the food chain crashes. What we don’t understand is why you think it’s going to crash that badly. Removing all these floaters from Atlantis is going to cause a lot of harm as well. Do you not care about that, or do you think things will be so bad that it won’t matter for the people left behind?”

“You can read, right? I’m told you’ve been examining the appropriate scrolls.” Alexander held up a hand to forestall Bridget’s reply. “You haven’t seen all of them, though. The histories show that this has happened before. Three times for which we have records. Each time was worse than the previous. Each time lasted longer. And it’s not just the fish. The air becomes foul. Breathing becomes difficult. Many die before they have time to starve.”

I was surprised enough to speak up despite my decision to let Bridget take this. “You have historical data? How far back?”

Alexander smiled at me. “My family has been tracking these things for thousands of years.”

“Seems like an odd kind of hobby.”

Alexander laughed easily. “I come from a family of scribes. Members of our clan have always been what many might call obsessive, so we were always record keepers. We tracked movements in the heavens—eclipses, occultations, the changing of the seasons. This has been our family’s main vocation for millennia. But it leaves one with a lot of spare time. It was a natural sideline to begin keeping track of movements of animals, population changes, dragon lineages, and yes, availability of fish. I was the first to examine the whole sweep of recorded history and notice the patterns.”

“So you aren’t from Lemuria.”

Alexander smiled without reply.

Bridget spoke to me over the intercom. “If he’s right, we should be supporting him, not trying to stop him.”

“I guess the Prime Directive is out the window again,” I replied.

“We were always interfering, Howard. It’s just a question of how.”

The exchange had only taken a moment, but Alexander was gazing at us with narrowed eyes. “You two almost seem to be talking sometimes, though there’s nothing to hear. Everything about you is strange. Why should I not remove you just out of a sense of caution?”

“Because we can help you get to Lemuria,” Bridget said.

Well, that’s it, I thought. Decision made.

“I’ve been to Lemuria.” Alexander pointed to the canoe. “I don’t need help.”

“Did you explore the entire continent?” Bridget asked, gesturing at the map on the wall. “Do you know the shortest distance? Do you know the water and air currents? Can you be forewarned about bad weather?”

“And you presumably have all this knowledge? Where does it come from, pray tell?”

“My home library has maps of the world, including the continent of Lemuria. It is said they were given to us by the Ancients. I don’t know about that, but I do know they are considered very accurate. My trip west was at least partly about measuring what the maps say against reality.”

Alexander stared at her, silent, his canines protruding slightly. My autonomous system wasn’t giving me an automatic translation, so I queried my database. That was a threat or defense posture, generally meaning the subject wasn’t quite sure how to respond. I had to admit, I couldn’t think of a direct human equivalent.

“May I see these maps?” Alexander asked.

Bridget tapped her head. “It’s all up here. But I can draw one for you if you want.”

Alexander nodded, making a decision, and stood up. “Very well. Let us begin.” He walked deeper into the pavilion, gesturing at us to follow. We found ourselves at a large table, on which was painted a detailed map of the dragon home continent of Atlantis. To the west, a vague outline of Lemuria had been chalked in, and a dotted line extended from our position straight across.

Tapping the dotted line, Alexander explained, “This is the most obvious route. But is it the best?”

I ran my finger down across the line. “The main air current between the continents runs northeast to southwest. You’ll be blown off course and be constantly beating northward to get back on track. Right into the teeth of the winter storms.”

“And the western continent,” Bridget added, “has a large bay to the south, making the distance to shore even greater. You’ll be better to start north of our location and beat straight west, letting the airflow pull you south. About”—Bridget squinted—“a hundred miles north. Here.”

Alexander frowned. “At the best speed we can coax out of the flotilla, that will take almost two weeks. It’s a late start and puts us further into winter weather.”

“We could wait until spring,” I suggested.

“I don’t think we can,” Alexander replied. “The fish stocks will not recover next spring, if they are following the pattern. We will have spent the winter eating our reserves, with no way to replenish them. Then an ocean voyage of several weeks? No, not workable. Many would starve en route.”

“But if we leave now from here, you’re doubling the duration of the voyage,” Bridget replied. “Even without the issue of a bad storm, do you have the reserves?”

Alexander looked at her, then dropped his eyes, a rare display of fallibility. “Unlikely. Again, starvation. No matter how we attack this, we do not have enough food.”

“What happened in previous cycles, when everyone stayed put? I’m assuming no one ever tried heading west.”

“Some did try heading west, in fact,” Alexander replied. “But generally, they were driven by hunger, and already weakened. I met no dragons on the western continent, so I don’t think they would have survived the voyage.”

“And the people who didn’t leave?”

“Several years of famine and bad air from eruptions. Most fish stocks died. More than half the population starved as a result. Many floaters died, so battles over territory took out many of the rest of the dragons. Our family was always well respected, and we had always maintained a personal army, so we came through and preserved the records.”

I paused to digest this. It seemed that Alexander’s plan wasn’t a power trip or based on a whim.

“What about ocean fish to forestall starvation?” I asked.

Alexander gave me an unbelieving look. “Are you serious? Ocean fish are more likely to pull you out of the air and make you the meal.”

“There are small fish in the ocean,” Bridget retorted. She grabbed a piece of chalk and drew something that looked like a mutated salmon.

“Grills. Pretty good eating, and they come pre-salted.” Alexander gave a dragon shrug. “Some villages that hang around the shoreline catch them in the spring during their mating run, but the rest of the year, they swim too deep and too far out.”

“Land animals?” I asked. “I mean, they aren’t what people would normally eat, but they are edible.”

“I have … eaten land meat. It’s fatty, rank, and hard to keep down. If you’re hungry enough, you’ll eat it. But not until you’re hungry enough. Batlings are good, but there’s not a lot of meat on them.”

“Have you never done net fishing?” Bridget asked, changing the subject.

Alexander gazed at her with incomprehension, and I suppressed a groan. I already knew, because I’d looked it up while they were arguing, that net fishing was not in the dragon repertoire. Nets were a known technology, as they were used for catching batlings, but there was no way you could cast a net from high up without being pulled out of the air when you caught something, and boating technology was practically nonexistent. What could you possibly need boats for if you could fly? Alexander’s canoe was revolutionary enough to be considered almost magical by many.

So what was Bridget suggesting? Building a fishing boat? That would take forever.

“With a much stronger net than you use for catching batlings, you could pull the net through the water and bring up grills, or some other fish.”

“Pull it how? From the back of a floater?” Alexander said derisively. He started to laugh, then his eyes slowly grew wider as she stared back impassively, and he finally almost squeaked, “You’re serious?”

“Float down low enough, toss it over the back end with a long cable … use a winch setup so you don’t dig into the side of the floater.” Bridget shrugged. “I’m not an engineer, but it seems workable. Or you could ask an engineer.” She pointed at me.

I wasn’t sure how engineer was translating into dragon, but it seemed to be something coherent, as Alexander turned to me expectantly.

“Uh, yeah,” I replied, feeling very much under a spotlight. “We could whip that up with some posts and a crew with adzes. Even put out a boom to clear the edge completely … ” I started to warm to my topic and was about to grab the chalk and start diagramming when Bridget put a hand on my arm.

“Wrong audience, dear. Save it for your work crew. We just need to know that it’s doable.”

We? I looked from Bridget to Alexander and back, and realized that she’d just been promoted to management. And I was still crew.


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