We Are Legion (We Are Bob)

Book 5: Chapter 53: Preparations

Book 5: Chapter 53: Preparations

Howard

August 2344

Jabberwocky

Dragons are excellent ropemakers. And a damned good thing, too. The stresses from tossing out even a small net from a couple hundred yards in the air, then winching it back up, required some good specs. We weren’t going for anything trawler level, though. It had to be something that muscle power could handle, so a series of quick casts and retrievals should bring in enough for dinner. For, uh, about thirty thousand dragons.

Word had finally gotten out about what Alexander was attempting to do and why. Of course, he’d been trying to spread the word for maybe a couple of years now and had been roundly ignored. But several sudden volcanic burps in the last couple of days had taken out not only a lot of the local fish stock but also two floaters and their passengers who had been too close to the emissions. And people were starting to notice the poor fishing, which was hitting them right in the belly.

And I got to see, from a distance, what a burning floater looked like. I began to understand what watching the Hindenburg burn must have been like.

So now people were starting to believe, which meant people were scared. And scared people could go from resistant to insistent in a heartbeat. Virtually every floater within a day’s flight had immediately joined up. All of which meant that waiting for spring was a nonstarter.

Now, we were heading north, from whence we would be setting off across the sea. I tried for a more dramatic description, but even as a posthuman computer, I had all the poetic talent of a hammer.

It was far too soon for starvation to set in, or even significant belt-tightening. But perception was a funny thing. Dragons began to act as if we were all on wartime rations. There was even a black market for fish. How in hell do you have a black market for fish when there’s barely a legitimate market? I was beyond understanding any of it. When it came down to it, dragons as a group were just as nutty as any other so-called sentients.

But my work crew was a different matter. Dragons were pragmatic when it came to any kind of construction. They followed orders without argument, even when those orders seemed nonsensical. But they got the idea quickly enough when they could see the finished product starting to take shape. At that point, it became more a matter of restraining them than motivating them.

It took no more than three days before we had a working winch and boom setup that would haul up a smallish net, hopefully full of fish. We couldn’t really test it on actual fish until we were over a big enough lake, but we improvised by filling the net with sticks and firewood until it seemed about the right weight.

We lost two nets before we got the weave and cord weight right.

The engineering crew swiftly turned into the trawling crew, as they understood the system better than anyone. We’d only had time to make the one unit so far, which gave my engineer’s mind a bad case of the shakes. But I made sure the crew laid in enough spare lumber and rope to make more of everything in a pinch. We might even be able to construct more setups on the trip, weather permitting.

At just short of the two-week mark, Bridget declared that we would need another week of travel north. She’d been touching base with Mario about the increased volcanic activity. He said the view from low orbit was ominous. I don’t know if the volcanic activity was contributing, but in any case, the winter storms were gearing up for a truly stupendous performance. As a result, Bridget wanted some extra wiggle room to avoid missing landfall entirely.

Erik, my crew foreman, walked up. “Everything’s stowed, Chief. Nothing more to do until we’re over water, I guess. Then we’ll find out if this bitch does its job.”

I tried not to show amusement, lest it be seen as condescending. The cursing wasn’t really translating well, and I was looking forward to a little time to update Gandalf’s database.

“Meanwhile,” I replied, “start cutting and shaping the spare lumber for parts. If we need to replace something, we don’t want to have to wait while someone cuts new notches.”

Eric gave me a sloppy salute, which looked suspiciously like something I did to Bridget occasionally, and turned to give orders. I hoped Bridget wouldn’t see that. I doubt she’d be amused.

Someone handed me a tuev, and I absentmindedly took a slow sip as I inspected the site. Not bad. I’d make engineers out of these people yet.

*****

I was helping lift a pole into place for part of the winch system when I got an email from Mario:

Hey, Howard & Bridget—

$1

$1

Well, that sucked.

Bridget contacted me via intercom immediately. “We’re not far enough north, Howard. We can’t turn yet.”

“Then don’t,” I replied. “The front is still a few thousand miles away.”

“We’ll have to get a little offshore, though. Bridget paused. I’m going to release some drones to monitor air quality. If it goes bad, we’ll have no choice.” ?????ÊŠ

Made sense. The biggest danger from all the vulcanism, short of having an eruption go off under you, was the gases emitted by the volcanoes and fissures. They were generally heavier than air and hugged the ground, but a big enough burp could retain a dome shape for hours or days before it dissipated. If the dome was high enough, it could encompass the floaters and their passengers.

A short time later, I felt a slow, ponderous change in the floater, and the horizon began to rotate. We were heading out to sea, where we hoped we would avoid the worst risks of eruptions.

It was about ten minutes before the horizon rotated back. I looked to shore, frowned, then launched into the air. Thirty seconds of focused flight got me to Alexander’s private floater. I found Bridget and Alexander in a tight huddle, conversing in tense tones.

Alexander did not seem to be happy to see me, either. It was more than just the current situation. He glanced at Bridget as she greeted me, then quickly looked away, and I realized that I was in a competition for my wife. With the most powerful person on Jabberwocky. Someone who could have me disappeared on a whim.

Not ideal. But also, let’s face it, not a priority right now. We had other problems, judging from Bridget’s expression. “What?” I said.

She sighed. “I feel like such a fool for not thinking of this. Everyone knows the floaters don’t like going offshore, and the dragons believe that it’s because they don’t like the open water with no cover. Turns out the problem is salt water.”

“And you suddenly know this, how?”

Bridget gestured to a dragon standing some twenty feet away. “Roger reported that the floaters dipped their tentacles, then pulled back as if they’d been stung and immediately started turning back to shore. The cockpit crew can’t get them to correct, either. The floaters are ignoring the crew input, and if the crew prod any harder, they say they’ll cause injury.”

I knew that floaters were steered and generally controlled using what I’d euphemistically call negative reinforcement. Like reins and spurs, crews used the application of pain to enforce their wishes on the floaters. It seemed, though, that the floaters would put up with some pain to avoid salt water.

To say that this put a crimp in our plans would be an understatement of massive proportions.

I turned and glared at Alexander. “And you never planned for this?”

He flushed, or the dragon equivalent, with either anger or embarrassment. “As Bridget says, it’s always been common wisdom that the floaters just don’t like the open water. They have been directed across bays, and to and from nearby islands, so we’ve assumed that the sight of a far shore was enough to reassure them.”

Bridget cut in. “And that’s almost certainly the case, but they were wrong about the motivation.”

“And you’re sure, absolutely sure, that this is all about salt water.”

She made a face at me. “Given the reaction of the tentacles, it seems like the best explanation.”

“Shit.” I thought for a moment. “Is it a case of drinking the water? I thought they had that big reservoir on top.”

“That’s … interesting,” Alexander said. “The central lake is ballast as well as a reservoir for dry periods. They can obviously use it when they’re not near water. Usually it’s refilled by rain, but the floaters can suck up water to replenish their reserves.”

“Can we make them want to do that?”

Alexander thought for a moment. “There’s lore that says when they’re hot, they load up on water.”

“Well, that makes sense,” Bridget said. “During the summer, they’d want a bigger reservoir not only for cooling but in case of drought.”

“So how do we make them hot?” I asked.

“Heat rocks in fires, then place them on bare patches.” Alexander nodded to himself, making a decision. He called to his commanders. As they gathered around, he began giving orders. We would head for a nearby lake, where the floaters would be persuaded to suck up a lot of water, after which—wait, what?

“Did I understand him right?” I whispered to Bridget. “They’ll cut off the floaters’ tendrils?”

“Apparently, they grow back easily,” she replied. “Like pulling out nose hairs.”

“Ew.” Still, it would keep the floaters from sampling the ocean, which would keep them from mutinying. We might yet pull this off.