Tsunamis only manifest themselves in shallows. Digger had been researching Bill’s library, and there were stories of people in small boats going over them without ever knowing it. That happened because the bulk of the wave was submerged. When the ocean became shallow, the water had no place to go, and, consequently, it pushed high into the air, forming the wave.
“Traveling at 630 kph,” said Bill. “I still make out three of them. Big one’s in front. They’ll hit about fifteen minutes apart.”
“One for each ship,” said Julie. “Tell me again how we’re going to do this.”
Digger had seen her disapproval the first time he’d explained the plan. “Same way we did things on the isthmus. We’ll use the Lykonda projection.”
“Okay. What is she going to tell them?”
“Bill,” he said, “run the program for Julie.”
Lykonda appeared on the overhead. The implication that she’d been through a struggle was gone. Her garments were white and soft, and an aura blazed around her. She said that it was essential for the ships to turn west and to continue straight out to sea until she told them to do otherwise.
When he’d translated for Julie, she frowned again. “What happens,” she asked, “if the wind is blowing in the wrong direction?”
He hadn’t thought of that. “I’m not sure,” he said. “Can’t they tack against the wind or something?”
“I don’t think so,” said Whit.
She smiled patiently. “If a goddess gave me that kind of command, I’d expect she would supply the wind.”
Digger didn’t know which way the wind would be blowing when they reached the eastern continent. He did know that where they were it seemed to be blowing out of all directions at once.
He’d been considering another idea: They had a sim library on board, which would unquestionably include the previous year’s big horror hit, Fang. The show had featured batwinged horrors that would have scared the pants off the Goompahs. If those things came out of the forests and seemed to be attacking the ships, there was no question which way the ships would turn. It would save a lot of talk. But it still wouldn’t work if the winds weren’t right.
“We need Marge,” said Whit. But they’d lost all contact with the Jenkins.
“Something else to think about,” said Julie. “The waves are going to get there less than an hour after we do. These are only sailing ships. Even with a good wind behind them, they aren’t going to get far in an hour.” She sighed and shook her head. “Small wooden boats. I wouldn’t give them much of a chance.”
“You have a better suggestion?”
“I’d tell them to land and climb trees.”
Digger was tired and unnerved. He knew Goompahs were going to die in substantial numbers before this was over, and he was in no mood for Julie’s acerbic humor. “Just let it go, will you?” he said.
Whit caught his eye and sent him a silent message. Cool down. She’s telling you stuff you don’t want to hear, but you’d better listen.
As they proceeded east they were headed into the late afternoon. Digger wanted to bring off the warning, do whatever they could, and get clear before night came.
He saw lightning ahead and thick dark clouds.
“Hang on,” Julie said. “It’s going to get a bit rough.”
“Can we go around it?” asked Whit.
“If we had time to spare, sure.”
They got hit before they even got into the storm. Digger heard things sizzle, lights went out, an alarm sounded, and it was free fall, grab the arms of your chair, and hang on. Julie fought the yoke and stabbed at her panels, and the lamps blinked on and off. He smelled something burning. The sea spun around them, and Julie damned the spacecraft to hell. Then he was rising against his harness. They continued dropping toward the sea, but she finally gained control, more or less. Digger started breathing again and looked out the window, and the ocean looked very close.
She leveled off just over the waves. “Room to spare,” she said. “Everybody okay?”
We’re fine. Whit laughed and commented he’d never been so scared in his life. Thought it was over.
Digger’d had a few bad moments himself, but he wasn’t admitting it. Didn’t want Julie to think he didn’t have confidence in her. The cabin seemed extraordinarily quiet. He couldn’t hear anything except heartbeats.
“It hit the tail,” she said.
“Are we okay?” asked Digger.
Her fingers moved across the status screen. “Yes. We’re okay. We can stay in the air. Some of our sensors are out. Long-range communications are down.”
“That’s not good,” said Whit.
“Doesn’t matter. We haven’t been able to talk to anybody anyway. I can jury-rig something later.”
“Okay.”
A frown creased her forehead. “But I think we’ve lost Bill.”
A large sea animal surfaced near them, a thing that seemed mostly tentacles. Then it slipped back beneath the surface.
“Bill? Do you hear me?”
More lamps blinked.
Digger realized what a good thing it was to have a human pilot along. “Can you fix him?”
More fingers across the screen. “No. He’s gone.”
Digger felt a wave of remorse.
“It’s only a software program,” she reminded him.
“I know.”
“When we get to one of the other landers, he’ll be there.”
“Can we still find the mission?” asked Whit.
“That shouldn’t be a problem.” She went back to her status screen, changed the display, and made a face. “There is one thing, though—”
The moment stretched out. She continued poking at the screen while Digger waited, holding his breath.
“We’ve lost Bill’s memory banks. I should have realized.”
“Why’s that a problem?” asked Digger.
“That’s where Lykonda was stored.”
“Are you saying we can’t use her?”
Julie nodded. “She’s kaput.”
Whit looked over at him, having assumed his most reassuring face. “We’ll have to talk to them directly.”
“Won’t work,” said Digger. “We’ve had experience with that.”
“What else do you suggest?” Whit was wearing a bright green shirt, as close as he could get to the styles favored by the Goompahs, and a coffee-colored vest.
“What do you think would happen if they saw the lander?” Julie asked.
“Don’t know,” said Digger. “They’d probably panic. Jump overboard.”
Another bolt hit nearby. They were passing over an island chain. “Pity,” said Whit. “A whole world to explore. The ultimate odyssey, and they run into one of these clouds.” He gazed at the islands. There were eight or nine of them, big, covered with forests. Rivers cut through them. As they passed overhead, hordes of birds rose from treetops.
Digger was more concerned that they’d take a second bolt up the rear end and wind up fried or in the drink.
“Odyssey,” said Whit.
Digger looked at him. “Pardon?”
He was opening his notebook. “I have a thought.”
THE THREE SHIPS were moving steadily, if slowly, south. Trees and shrubbery pushed down to the water’s edge and spilled into the ocean. The sun was approaching the horizon.
The Regunto was immersed in a sense of foreboding, a conviction that the thing in the sky was on top of them, that it would come for them that night. Krolley was on deck constantly, strolling about as casually as if there were nothing to worry about. Telio had to concede he feared nothing. But under the circumstances, courage and defiance were not virtues.
A few of Telio’s shipmates were gathered aft, talking idly. A couple were in the rigging, getting ready to come down. No one was supposed to be up there after dark, unless specifically ordered.
The night before, when they’d passed beneath the cloud, the sky had been black and threatening and streaked with lightning in a way he had never seen before. He would not be on duty again until morning, and he thought it would be a good night to spend in his bunk, belowdecks, away from the spectacle.
The Hasker was still running behind them, shoreward; and the Benventa was off to starboard. But the three ships had uncustomarily pulled closer together as night approached.
There was a sudden commotion near the rail. Several crewmen were jabbering and pointing. Toward the Hasker. He joined them and was surprised to see that the other ship had put up a signal and was engaged in turning toward shore.
The signal consisted of three pennants, two red, one white, the white on the left, signaling a turn to port and requesting the other vessels to follow. As Telio watched, they dropped anchor, and began preparations to put a boat over the side.
That was extraordinary behavior since the fleet commander was on the Regunto.
One of the officers went after the captain, who’d just gone below.
There was a harbor coming up ahead, and the Hasker had anchored in its mouth.
Then Telio saw what appeared to be a canoe, a couple of canoes, running alongside the Hasker.
“What’s going on?” demanded Krolley, who appeared on deck like a summer thunderstorm. He was not happy.
Everyone pointed.
Three young females sat in each of the two canoes. They were half-naked, despite the coolness of the evening. But incredibly, they wore the green-and-white colors of Savakol!
He stared.
“We’re home,” said one of the crew. And a cheer went up. They’d done it. Completed the mission.
But it wasn’t true. Telio wasn’t the only one there who knew the home coast too well to mistake it for this wilderness. But how then did one account for the Korb females and their Savakol colors?
He scanned the shore and saw nothing but forest and hills. The canoes were turning into the harbor and apparently making for shore. Beyond it, atop one of the ridges, he saw flames begin to flicker. Someone was building a campfire.
“Hard to port,” said the captain. “Bekka, signal the Benventa. We’ll lay up alongside the Hasker.”