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CHAPTER FOUR

CROSSING

Twelve days since landing


Bart Saxon watched uneasily as the sailors lashed the cargo container to the reinforced deck of the big ship. There was activity all around him. Longshoremen and deckhands loaded the ship next to them with copper and tin ingots, another ship down the way was being loaded with charcoal. Saxon could see the fires from the charcoal kilns all around the port city.

This was the last of the twenty-foot containers. The first had been safely taken across to Nikeis by Haskins and Sandori while Saxon stayed to watch the other two. Haskins had returned to report it safely across, installed in Senator Avanti’s palazzo with Ms. Sandori to watch it, then went back over with the second. Saxon had been surprised to see Haskins return with the ship after shepherding the second cargo container. That left two of the containers in Nikeis with only one star guard.

Of course there was nothing to be done about it. Sandori had sent him, claiming concern about Saxon. Haskins wasn’t precisely afraid of Sandori. Intimidated would be a better word, Saxon thought. But it all added up to his coming back to Terra Firma leaving two containers on the island with only Officer Lorraine Sandori to guard them. Saxon frowned at the thought. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Sandori, but she’d become increasingly friendly with the young Senator Avanti, and the Senator was understandably curious about the contents of those containers. Moving them was expensive, and Avanti had never lost an opportunity to remind Saxon of that. For all his suspicions, what were the alternatives to cooperation with Avanti and the Serene Republic? Saxon could think of none.

What the hell can she be planning? Probably nothing. Keeping her options open, not closing off any. That would mean she wouldn’t go too far, not just yet. But she’s thinking of what she can do on her own. I’m sure of it.

Those cargo containers were almost certainly the most valuable objects on the planet, but it wasn’t clear whether the Nikeisian elites understood that. Sandori certainly did, which probably meant that Senator Avanti did . . . Saxon shook his head in frustration. Saxon had the only keys, but that wasn’t anything permanent. The best locks would yield to a sledgehammer.

And it only takes one dagger in the right place to get the keys away from me, Saxon thought.

If anyone planned on doing that, it wasn’t obvious. The Nikeisian officials they had met were uniformly polite, and their hospitality was exaggerated. They were meticulous about recording every ducat they spent on this operation, but the charges they made didn’t seem excessive. From what Saxon could discern, gold was important here—and there was a modest but weighty bag of Krugerrands in this last container, and only Saxon knew about them. It ought to be more than enough if the Nikeis officials were as honest as they protested they were.

Odd, Saxon thought, but they do seem to be honest. Merchant societies often are. Maybe they have to be.

Honest or not, the Nikeisians were certainly efficient. Within a week of their landing on Tran a sizable expedition of oxen and wagons had appeared in the clearing. The containers were far too large for existing wagons, but in four days new and very large wagons had been built and the containers had been manhandled onto those wagons. Teams of twenty-four oxen had pulled each container over the trail to the main road, then eighteen-oxen teams had pulled them the dozen miles to the sea. Progress had been slow but quite steady, and everything was done professionally. Clerks had noted every expense as they moved from the clearing to the road, then into the fortified harbor city. It added up to an impressive sum in ducats, but when Saxon found what they paid for gold he stopped worrying about it. He could afford this—and Spirit might be paying in something other than coins.

Not my concern, Saxon thought. Or I hope it isn’t.

The journey to the sea had been interesting. This area was obviously a center of industrial activity. Loggers were everywhere. On their first day Saxon saw what looked like an enormous tipi of logs stood on end. Men were plastering the outside of the tipi logs with dirt. Saxon thought hard about what they were doing, but then he saw a similar structure on fire, and realized they were making charcoal. Charcoal would be important in metal refining and forging, and the Nikeis workers seemed to know precisely what they were doing. This wasn’t anything they’d learned recently. They passed several more charcoal kilns as they made their way to the sea coast.

And we almost certainly have ways to improve the charcoal-making process, Saxon thought. That’s in the books I brought. The Britannica was a gold mine of information about the early technology of the Industrial Revolution. That alone should be enough to pay the debts we’ve run up. Charcoal. Black powder. Maybe even nitric acid and guncotton. Smokeless powder. Nitroglycerin . . . The last thought brought a mischievous grin to Saxon’s face. Dad would be proud . . .

We’ve been well treated. It’s been expensive, but all’s well so far, Saxon thought. The Nikeis officials treated them as wealthy visitors. They’d been advanced local currency—ducats, which Saxon remembered from Shakespeare but had never seen before—and a line of credit for food and drink. Every item was written down by a clerk. But then, damned near everything they do is written down. Damnedest country for record keeping I ever heard of.

Yes, all was well and they were treated as wealthy and honored guests. But there had never been any discussion of where they were going.

* * *

The ship was about a hundred and fifty feet long. Saxon paced it off before they boarded. A hundred and fifty feet long and more than forty feet wide amidships, with a high forecastle forward and a narrow poop deck a full deck higher aft. A stubby, sawed off tub. It was fitted to row, but it also had a pair of masts. It bore the name Queen of Heaven, and the locals called it a navis oneraria. A merchant ship. It hadn’t been built for anything as large as a twenty-foot cargo container, but the sailors had made do. The deck had been beefed up with square timbers the size of railroad ties, and the container rode on those amidships, ahead of the mainmast and between the left and right rowing benches. The middle benches on each side had been cut short to make room for the container between them. Saxon could see the raw wood at the edges. The container was lashed down by ropes to both sides as well as fore and aft, and it wasn’t going anywhere.

“Actually, it might keep the ship floating,” Haskins said. “If it came to that. Them things are pretty watertight.”

Saxon shuddered.

“Thanks. Well, two are safe over there, so I guess we’re all right. What’s it like? On the island?”

“Islands. Lots of them. You keep askin’ me that, and I keep telling you, I didn’t get far from the docks,” Haskins said. “Now Miss Spirit can tell you more, I reckon. She seems to be doing all right with that Senator kid.”

“They were getting pretty thick on the trip coming to the harbor,” Saxon said. “Are they sleeping together?”

“Don’t know for sure, but it wouldn’t surprise me none.” Haskins shrugged. “They sure spend enough time together. One thing, if’n the women I saw are typical, she’s got competition. Some real hot babes in that city. On the other hand, Miss Spirit’s likely the thinnest woman on the island.”

“The women are fat?”

“Not so much fat, maybe, but sure more rounded out than Miss Spirit,” Haskins said. “Lively, too. Not that I saw all that many women around the docks, but there was some. Some real fancy dressed, too, not just the kind of women you expect to see around sailors. Didn’t seem to mind what color I was, either.” Haskins chuckled. “Miss Spirit wasn’t so happy to see them, though. Kept saying she had to find a hairdresser and a dress shop. Real insistent about it.”

“That doesn’t sound much like her.”

“Sure don’t, Bart. But that’s how she was.”

“All right. Now why are you carrying that?” Saxon indicated the H&K battle rifle slung over Haskins’ shoulder.

Haskins shrugged again.

“They asked if we had star weapons to protect the ship,” he said. “Miss Spirit told them we did, and they wanted me to carry mine.” He grinned. “Not like I’ve ever had to use it. We didn’t even do a demonstration, not that it’s needed, I think these guys know all about what a rifle like this can do.”

“How would they know that?”

“I don’t know, Bart, but they sure haven’t acted all that curious. Maybe they seen them in action already.”

Saxon thought about that for a moment.

“You know, you may be right,” he said. “Galloway’s been here for years. There’s no way these people can make a smokeless powder rifle, but they’ve got to have heard of them.” Saxon looked at the bronze fittings of the ship. There was a forged pump of bronze and iron. No cannon, but once the idea occurred to these people they’d be able to make cannon, he was certain of that.

“If the signori please,” Captain Fieschi said. “It is time to depart. The tide will be in our favor.”

“Certainly,” Saxon said. He let Fieschi lead them up the wide gangway. “Will the weather be favorable?”

Fieschi shrugged.

“Only God knows, Signor Saxon, but we usually have favorable winds and small seas at this time of year. And it is less than two days’ voyage at worst.”

The gangway led to the main deck. They went aft between two benches of oarsmen.

No chains, Saxon noticed. Apparently the Tran version of the Serene Republic was like Earth’s Venice, free oarsmen. Venice, or classical Athens, he thought. A strong man could make a reasonable living as an oarsman. A good one might even become a ship captain.

They climbed a stairway to a poop deck that rose above the main deck to almost the height of the cargo container, so they could look right over the container to the front end of the ship. Rowers were taking their places at the benches. Armed marines stood on the forecastle. There were two devices up there. Onager. That’s the name, Saxon thought. A small stone-throwing torsion catapult. There was no sign of ammunition for the two onagers, but the marines who stood next to them were apparently the crew for the weapon. They seemed to be doing something, but Saxon couldn’t make out what. The entire ship had an air of ordered confusion, with everyone familiar with what had to be done so no one was giving orders. Things just happened.

There were cabins under the poop deck, and they were shown to two of them, presumably officer quarters vacated for Saxon and Haskins.

“Can’t complain nohow about the hospitality,” Haskins said. “See you up on deck in a minute?”

“Sure.” Saxon looked around the cabin.

Stateroom. They’d call it a stateroom in English, Saxon thought. God knows what that is in Italian. I guess cabin will have to do.

The room was larger than he’d expected. It was stuffy, owing to a complete lack of windows or portholes. A bed was built in against the hull side of the cabin. Saxon noted that it had high sideboards so that he wouldn’t fall out if the ship rolled in high seas, and nodded in satisfaction. He expected to be seasick, and he was pleased to see a bucket half filled with seawater set securely into a wooden structure fastened to the bulkhead by his bed. Apparently they thought he might be seasick too.

There was no sign of a bathroom. There had to be something. The ship didn’t stink. The maritime crew and the oarsmen had to have some place. The bucket? Maybe more buckets? He could ask Cal.

There were shouts and the sounds of rushing feet. Saxon came out into the hall between cabins and went up the ladder to the deck above. The oarsmen were in their places with the oars raised high, while linesmen cast off and pushed the ship out from the dock with long poles. Once they were away from the dock the oarsmen dipped oars and began to push.

Push, Saxon thought. They’re standing and facing the direction we’re going. Using their legs. I don’t remember reading anything about that. But they sure are.

He looked back to the shore. The dock was part of a fortified harbor, a walled castle with stone breakwaters extending out to make a small basin. The castle flew banners with the winged lion and battle-axe of Nikeis. Saxon had seen similar banners in books about Venice, except he didn’t remember any battle-axe on the Venetian banners.

Hills rose steeply beyond the walls of the port town. Saxon saw logging operations on every hill in sight. As he watched, loggers felled a tall tree near the top of the nearest hill. If they kept up operations at that pace the trees would be gone in no time—but it was pretty obvious that this wasn’t any ordinary forest. The trees were too regularly spaced, and mostly the same size. Planted? They must have been planted a long time ago to have gotten so big! And there were charcoal burnings everywhere, giant tipis smoldering away. Other big trees were being dragged down hill. A raft of trees floated near shore.

They moved out past the breakwaters and into the open sea. Not far outside the breakwater a brisk wind came up from the left quarter behind them, and the captain shouted orders. Lateen sails quickly appeared on both masts. Sailors rushed about with lines, everyone moving with precision without more orders. Soon the ship began to move rapidly through the water. The oarsmen, seemingly without orders, brought the oars inboard and secured them, then sprawled on their benches.

And we’re on the way to Nikeis, Saxon thought. Now what?

* * *

Later in the evening the wind was stronger. There were whitecaps on most of the waves. They had an evil reddish cast in the light of the Demon.

Saxon had little experience on water, and none outside San Francisco Bay. He’d heard of the Beaufort scale for rating the strength of winds, but he didn’t know how to use it to rate the strength of this wind. Whitecaps on all the waves, one wave in twenty breaking. Half gale? Fresh breeze? For that matter, would the Beaufort scale work on another planet? He didn’t see any reason why it wouldn’t, but the thought nagged him. Gravity about the same, but atmospheric density would be different. How different? He couldn’t think of a way to measure that. Pressure he could manage if there were any mercury on the planet. How many millimeters high could mercury rise under a good vacuum? Or in strong wind? But the gravity would be a bit different, acceleration wouldn’t be thirty-two feet per second per second. But he could measure that and then come up with the local planetary gravity. Drop something and time it? Galileo used inclined planes and balls. That would work. He’d have to do it before his watch stopped working. Get that local g acceleration and it would be the key to a lot.

Maybe he could work that out another way. Use a pendulum—he shook his head to rid himself of the speculations. Time for that sort of thing when they got settled. The formulae would all be in the books.

Whatever the wind strength, the waves didn’t look dangerous from the decks of the Queen of Heaven, but Saxon thought he would hate to be out in that in a small sailboat. I’ll have to look things up when I get my laptop running. A lot of what I need to know will be in one or another edition of the Britannica.

That thought brought up another—more of a worry, than just a “thought,” he admitted to himself. He’d made certain he had at least one printed copy of the Britannica, and there was hard copy of several other sources, as well. But an awful lot of what he had was only on CD-ROM. CD-ROMs were wonderful, and he had just about every book ever written. There was a whole course on sailing ships on one of them, for example. But they weren’t going to do him any good without power. Still, there seemed to be plenty of wind here, so if it held up out at the—islands? archipelago?—there ought to be enough for the windmill to keep the laptops charged. The disassembled windmill and its generator took up more than a quarter of container two. The bicycle generator was in three, this one, along with some laptops and a lot of CD-ROMs. Somewhere in there was an inventory of what was in all the containers, but Saxon hadn’t tried to find it since their arrival. Time enough for that when they were settled.

The containers had been sealed back in the clearing where they landed. They’d all agreed that once they had retrieved their personal gear and weapons, they wouldn’t reopen the containers until they were settled in Nikeis and all three of them were present.

Sandori had used a melon to demonstrate her pistol to Caesare Avanti. He hadn’t seemed surprised. Another reason to think they’d seen star weapons before. But they’d been astonished when Haskins and Saxon had shown the capabilities of their personal radios to communicate without shouting.

“There’s a lot more,” Sandori had said. But that had been enough to get Avanti moving on bringing in wagons and oxen.

“Keep him guessing,” Sandori had said. “Look, these people are mostly merchants. They know knowledge is valuable, and they’re sure we know a lot they don’t. That makes us valuable.”

“Don’t hurt that he’s a right handsome stud, though,” Haskins had answered. That had brought a blush.

But she’s right, Saxon thought. We aren’t strong enough to just bull our way through. We need to deal with civilized people, and these seem to be just that. But how do I establish contact with Captain Galloway? And do I let them know that I want to?

Dinner was in a large cabin that served both as the captain’s quarters and a wardroom. Saxon was surprised to have an appetite despite the ship’s motion. Maybe I’ll get through this without getting sick after all. Maybe. Captain Fieschi tried to keep a conversation going, but the wind and sea noise and Saxon’s inadequacy in Italian made that difficult, and after a while they ate in silence.

The stew was reasonably tasty and the bread quite fresh.

“Baked today?” Saxon asked. Captain Fieschi shrugged.

“Probably in town,” Haskins said. “Never saw them bake on board ship. Galley’s pretty primitive. Hot water, boiled cereal, and stews, but I never saw any baking.”

“So how do I take a pee?” Saxon asked, and Haskins grinned.

“Lee rail, there’s a place just for that,” he said. “Took me a while to get the hang of it.”

“Better show me now,” Saxon said. His stomach growled and he tasted bile. “Right now, I guess.”

“Sure.” Haskins stood and bowed to the captain. Saxon noted that and bowed as well, then followed Haskins out onto the poop deck forward of the stern cabin. Haskins led him down steps to the main deck. Most of the oarsmen were seated in small blanket-covered groups, talking and throwing dice, but a few were stretched out asleep on the deck.

“No chains,” Saxon said.

“Nope. All free men,” Haskins said. “Some of the professional oarsmen make good money. If anybody has galley slaves it’s not the Signory. Just over here, Bart. There’s one on each side. You go to the one on the lee side. That’s the opposite of the windward side. Just now it’s the starboard side, which is on your right when you’re looking forward, just in case you don’t know.”

Saxon nodded.

“Thanks. Starboard and—port?”

Haskins shrugged.

“Port in English, but here it’s starboard or something like that, starboard’s close enough, and babordo. Babordo means left. We call them starboard and port in English. Starboard and babordo, forward and aft. Those don’t change like windward and leeward. Just now leeward’s the starboard side.”

He pointed to a small opening in the ship’s railings where a platform jutted out a couple of feet over the ocean. Ropes and rail posts made it relatively safe and easy to use.

“Thanks, Cal. Hate to do this in winter,” Saxon said.

“Maybe them as have cabins use buckets when it’s cold out.” Haskins shrugged again. “Bart, what the hell are we going to do when we get settled onto that island? I expect it’s easier getting to this place than getting away from it.”

“We try to find a way to get word to Captain Galloway that we’re here and looking for him, I think,” Saxon said.

Haskins nodded.

“You agree that it’s best to work with Galloway?” Saxon asked.

“Bart, I’m leaving that up to you. Whatever you say is okay with me. You like Galloway, that’s fine with me.”

“Glad you came?”

“Beats being on the streets,” Haskins said. “Feels like I may be some use here. Maybe. Sure better chance of that here than in the Tenderloin.”

Saxon considered that and decided that he agreed. He wasn’t sure he knew what he was doing, and he hoped to hell Agzaral and Lee hadn’t picked the wrong man, but at least he had a purpose now. A purpose and a future, and that was a lot more than he’d had in San Francisco. He nodded to himself and carefully climbed out onto the platform. It was more secure than it looked, but he’d hate to have to use it in stronger seas. He finished his task, and found there was a bucket with a line on it next to the rail opening. He used it to dip up some water and washed his hands.

“Now you wash down the area you used,” Haskins said. “They don’t know about germs here, I think, but they do know they don’t like stink.”

“Don’t blame them. Cal, I don’t know exactly what we do next, or how. What I want to do is find this Galloway, but I don’t know how to do that.”

“Yeah. We don’t have a lot of choices,” Haskins said. “Least this outfit has people and ships to move all our stuff. No sign of anyone trying to steal it, either. They seem friendly enough. Reckon that’s Spirit’s doing. She’s sure one good terms with that Caesare Avanti, and Avanti’s daddy is a big cheese over there.”

“But you don’t know if they’re sleeping together?”

“Like I said, if I had to bet, I’d say they were, but I don’t know anything. Just everyone’s damned friendly. And they don’t care that I’m Black. Takes ’em a minute to get used to it, I don’t think they ever saw a Black man before, but once they do it’s okay. I think I like this place.”

* * *

The boy said something in Italian, realized he was not understood, and switched to the mainland trade language. He strained to keep his voice calm.

“Captain Fieschi wishes to speak with you on deck,” he said, and Saxon frowned.

“Now?”

“Yes, Signor, you and the other signor, please.”

“Right away,” Saxon said. He put his head into the other stateroom. “Cal, we’re wanted on deck.”

“Roger that.”

They went up to the poop deck. Captain Fieschi pointed towards the west, where the True Sun was setting.

“If you look closely, Signor, you will see there are two ships on a course to intercept us.”

Saxon brought out his binoculars. He could make out few details. Two ships, galleys, one big triangular sail on each but oars dipping at what Saxon thought was a slow but steady beat.

“Whose?” Saxon asked.

“I do not know. They are not ours,” Captain Fieschi said. “What are those marvels?”

“Binoculars. You don’t know that word. Lenses? Make things look closer.”

Fieschi looked doubtful.

“May I look through them?”

Saxon put the binocular strap around Fieschi’s neck.

“Be careful, they break. You look through here, and use this rocker to change the focus—move that back and forth until you see best.”

Fieschi looked puzzled at first, then disappointed, then startled.

“I see!” He lowered the binoculars, stared, then raised them again. He did this several times. “Do you have many of these?” he asked.

“Several.”

“They will be immensely valuable,” Fieschi said. “Now I understand why the Signory were willing to pay so much to lease my ship to convey you safely to Nikeis.”

He went back to inspecting the distant ships.

“Who are they?” Saxon asked.

“No insignia on the sails, no flags. I think pirates.”

“Pirates,” Saxon said. “Are they dangerous? Can they catch us?”

Fieschi shrugged. “Normally I would say no to both questions,” he said. “Queen of Heaven is well able to defend herself. But with that large—container—on deck, it is not so certain. And we are much slower.”

“I see. So what will you do?”

“Try to stay out of their reach, unless you request otherwise,” Fieschi said. “Unfortunately, our destination is well known, and altering course to run before the wind would put us downwind of Nikeis. That container is a hamper with the wind off the babordo quarter, but I do not know by how much. I am certain that we will be a great deal slower than they are when trying to climb into the wind.”

“And if we can’t outrun them?”

“Then we fight, of course.” Fieschi shrugged again. “I was hoping you would have weapons to assist in that.”

“Cal? You understand what he said?”

“Some of it. Pirates?”

“Right on. We may have to fight. You’re going to be better at that than I am.”

“Which ain’t all that great,” Haskins said in English. “I was never much of a rifleman. Qualified with the M-16 all right in basic, so I know what I’m supposed to do. But—”

Fieschi had been listening to them without understanding.

“You can do nothing now?” he asked.

“Good grief no,” Haskins said. “How far you reckon they are from us?”

Saxon squinted.

“Couple of miles?”

He took back the binoculars from Captain Fieschi. They’ve got some kind of markings in there I can use to find distances, but I don’t know how to do that, he thought. Principle’s easy enough, wish I’d thought to take a lesson or something. Oh, well. He looked again.

“More like double that, I think,” Haskins said. “Too far for me. When it’s a couple of hundred yards, let me know.” he frowned. “They likely to have those catapult things? How far can they shoot?”

Saxon struggled with languages but managed to ask Fieschi, then frowned at the answer.

“Sorry, didn’t understand.”

Fieschi thought and tried again.

“Nine lengths of this ship? But not with much accuracy above three lengths of this ship. That is what we can do with our ballistae. Theirs will not be as strong unless they have captured one of our ships. Or a Roman ship,” he added begrudgingly.

“Cal, he says they shoot about four hundred fifty yards max, maybe a hundred and fifty with any accuracy.”

Haskins nodded.

“Well, we can shoot farther, but I wouldn’t bet on hitting nothing closer than a hundred yards. Maybe not that far. I ain’t no marksman, Bart.”

“That ought to be good enough,” Saxon said. “They don’t want to set fire to us, they want to capture us. We let them shoot first. If they don’t shoot we let them get close enough you can hit someone. If they still look hostile, then you spray down their poop deck. That ought to do it.”

“Yeah,” Haskins said. He didn’t sound very sure of himself and he glanced back at the unknown ships. “Maybe nothing will come of it. They don’t look like they’re closing much.”

“So does that mean we can outrun them?” Saxon asked.

“It may.” Captain Fieschi sounded doubtful. “But it may simply be that they choose not to close with us, instead. Queen of Heaven is a formidable ship, Signor. Our ballistae crews are well trained. The rowers have weapons and most of them are trained in their use. That is without your star weapons.” He indicated Saxon’s holstered pistol. “I would not care to be the pirate that attempts to take this ship.”

“There are two,” Saxon observed.

“Yes, and if they are accustomed to working together that could present problems,” Fieschi said. “We will not maneuver well with that container on the deck. Is it your advice that we avoid contact with them?”

I hadn’t thought I was giving advice, Saxon thought. Interesting. Was this some kind of council of war?

“Yes,” he said. “If that’s possible, we should avoid them.”

“I will have the rowers stay ready. If those ships begin to approach we will add their power to the wind.”

Saxon had been watching the oncoming ships.

“I think they just slowed the beat,” he said. He chanted slowly. “Dip. Pull. Return. Yes, I’m certain they’ve slowed the pace.”

Fieschi stared into the setting sun.

“You are correct. They need the oars to keep up with us, I think. So it would appear their ships are slower than Queen of Heaven, despite the container. On this heading with this wind.”

Dusk came quickly, leaving the evil red glow of the Demon Star.

“I will set three to watch,” Fieschi said. “The demon will give enough light to see if they come closer. You may as well go to bed.”

Sure, Saxon thought. I’m on an alien world being chased by pirates. No point in losing any sleep over it.

* * *

He slept badly until near dawn, then managed to get into a deeper sleep with strange dreams he couldn’t quite remember. It was bright outside when he woke. He went up on deck and stared west, then took out his binoculars and searched the horizon.

“They are gone,” Fieschi said from behind him.

“Did we outrun them?”

“They did not try to catch us,” Fieschi said. “The lookouts tell me they followed until shortly after dawn, then turned to the northwest.”

“That’s good news.”

“Yes, Signor, but it remains disturbing that pirate ships should follow an armed ship of the Serene Republic even for a short time. Their usual concern is to avoid us. I was hired to be the supply ship for a squadron that chases pirates before the Signory leased this ship to transport your—containers—and without that”—he pointed to the big metal box—“and in this wind it would have been no difficulty to catch one of them, close as they approached. They are bolder than I have found them to be in the past.”

“Why would that be?” Saxon asked.

“I believe they have heard stories of the great value of our cargo,” Fieschi said. “They wish to be sure of our destination, and are now certain we are bound for Nikeis. Signor, I have heard stories that tempt even me! Your lenses—”

“Binoculars.”

“Binoculars.” The captain said the word again. “Your binoculars alone would be of great value. Imagine being able to examine a ship from far away while they are as yet unaware of any details about Queen of Heaven! I have heard of such instruments in the hands of the Warlord Rick, but I never thought to see any. And that weapon your man carries, I presume it is what they call in Drantos a battle rifle. I have heard that it can strike down an enemy far beyond crossbow ranges. And these are but what we can see! The pirates must be tempted by the prospects of such booty!”

“More than you are.”

“Of course more than me, Signor. I have a contract with the Serene Republic. My home is in Nikeis. I have traveled to many places, but I would not care to live anywhere else.”

Interesting, Saxon thought. Very interesting.

* * *

Nikeis was well in sight by midmorning.

Saxon studied the island complex with his binoculars. At first there was nothing to see, just an irregular shape above the sea. As they got closer he could see that Nikeis was bigger than he had expected it to be. There was a lot more than one island. First there was a low stretch of land a few feet above water, no more than a sand bar. It had low wooden buildings and docks. Crews dried nets on some of the sand bars, but there was not much other activity. Beyond that were grassy marshes, and past those was a complex of higher islands. One large island rose no more than twenty feet out of the sea, and was entirely flat. It was covered with grain fields and some barns. Farms, but not houses. Other islands were covered with houses. The main island, irregularly shaped, had a low shelf at sea level then rose steeply to a plateau nearly a hundred feet above the sea. The whole main island seemed to be a single city, and there were palaces and houses on the other islands near it. Further away was another farm island.

Stone forts stood guard on islands near the channel entrances. Saxon examined them curiously. The fortifications were small in area but surrounded by treacherous sandbars. Each fort was several stories high, all built of stone. Otherwise, the marshes and sand bars weren’t well developed, but the land on the real islands was either farmland or covered with ornate multistoried buildings with balconies, all painted in bright colors. There were banners and flags everywhere. The True Sun was high overhead. Nearly noon, Saxon thought.

Two small ships, ten oars to each side, came racing out of a channel between two of the stone forts. When they came near, Queen of Heaven turned into the wind and Captain Fieschi shouted something to the master of the first boat. They conversed at length, then the two galleys turned and raced away towards the city. They raised bright ribbons to the masthead and looked very festive as they went.

After Queen of Heaven turned into the wind, the crew quickly furled the sails as the rowers unlashed their oars. When the oarsmen were ready they steered towards the narrow passage that led into the interior of the island complex. Captain Fieschi stood by the steersman and quietly gave instructions.

The ship moved more slowly under oars, and Saxon frowned as he discovered something else he hadn’t realized about ships.

Funny, I always assumed they’d be faster under oars, but we were actually faster under sail! Not as maneuverable, I’ll bet, but faster. And those other boats, those “fusta” Fieschi called them. They’re a whole different design. A lot narrower for their length, and I bet they aren’t as deep, either. They are faster rowing, too, I’ll bet . . . at least until the rowers get worn out.

He supposed that wasn’t the kind of things navies worried about if they had steamships and gas turbines and nuclear power. Something to keep in mind here on Tran, though.

The captain steered them through twisting narrow channels between islands covered with buildings until they came out into a wide lagoon a quarter mile from the main island. Just in the center of the main island was a low plaza.

Palazzo, Saxon corrected himself. Palazzo. And apparently they use the same word for palace? Cheez.

An ornately dressed group waited for them on the palazzo. A floating wooden platform about two feet high had been built along the water’s edge. Much of the paved palazzo itself was under six inches of water, but even so hundreds of people stood in the square, all waiting for them in ankle-deep water, all cheering. Two dozen men and a few women stood on the platform. Saxon scanned the crowd with his binoculars. Sandori and Senator Caesare Avanti stood in the center of the welcoming committee. Everyone seemed to be smiling.

The crowd in the palazzo was definitely happy despite having wet feet, and they continued to cheer loudly as Queen of Heaven came closer. Most of those in the palazzo were men, but not all. Of those closer to the platform where the Doge sat, several were couples, generally middle aged to elderly. The women were all well dressed, but they mostly ran to overweight. Most of the women Saxon had seen, both here and on Terra Firma, were definitely full figured. A slender teenaged girl in the first row of those in the palazzo caught his eye. Well dressed, slender waist. She stood out from the crowd.

Best not go there, Saxon thought to himself. I don’t know what their version of the Tenderloin looks like, but I bet it looks like a grave.

The ship’s officers shouted orders, and the oarsmen on one side backwatered as the others pulled. The ship turned and was brought slowly alongside the floating dockwork at the edge of the plaza. As they threw lines out and made fast, Saxon saw two men standing near Sandori and Avanti. One of them was dressed more or less like other men of rank in the welcoming party, although there were differences. The other was wearing US Army battle dress. Both wore shoulder-holstered pistols.


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Framed