An Accidental Alliance (17 page)

     
“Better wait until they are officially our friends,” Park warned. “We’ve been invited to their nearest city, Ghalati.”

     
“Is that the one up on Hudson’s Bay?” Arn asked.

     
“Yes, the Mer don’t have a single capital and their government meets electronically as often as in person,” Park explained. “The officials move around meeting in whatever city seems more convenient.”

     
“It’s a hell of a way to run a country,” Arn shook his head.

     
“It works for them,” Park shrugged.

     
“What happened to the bug prophet?” Arn asked in a sudden change of subject. “I haven’t seen him around in days.”

     
“Okactack,” Park replied in rebuke, “left a few days ago. Once we had the computer stuff out of the Mer boat, Taodore gave it to Tack so he could go home in comfort and convenience.”

     
“Won’t he have trouble getting past the portages downstream?” Arn asked.

     
“Not really,” Park replied. “The Mer boat is equipped with the same sort of anti-grav lifts they wear to walk around. When he gets to them he can float over them.”

     
“Isn’t that a rather extravagant gift to give to a…” Arn paused to think of the right words.

     
“Neolithic barbarian?” Park prompted him impudently. “A man of the cloth? A witch doctor?”

     
“Well, it seems to me that if the Mer normally only trade steel knives and other trinkets with the Atackack,” Arn replied, “a boat is entirely out of the normal range of gifts.”

     
“Taodore is rich,” Park informed Arn. “He is also an aristocrat among his people. He can afford to make such a gesture and he also feels honor bound to see Tack home safely.”

     
“So why did Tack come here in the first place?” Arn asked. “Sight-seeing?”

     
“In a way,” Park replied. He was tempted to add, “Tack just wanted to talk to Iris and me,” but held off on that. Arn had more important issues to deal with than the shaman’s vision. “Iris and I saw him off and had to stop Taodore from repeating all his cautions for the umpteenth time. He was especially worried Tack might try to sail directly across the Sink. It may no longer be the Indian Ocean, but it is fifteen hundred miles across and three thousand long. But all Tack would say is ‘I follow the divine path, Taodore Waisau.’ Iris warned him that those water gods are a capricious lot, but he merely bowed and made that odd gesture they do in place of laughing.”

     
“He thought that was funny?” Arn asked. “Most devoutly religious people are a bit more serious about the gods than that.”

     
“I think he was being polite,” Park chuckled. A moment later he returned to their earlier topic. “You know, if we do launch that rocket, don’t we have to build a launchpad?”

     
“We already have one,” Arn replied. “Haven’t you seen it?”

     
“It wasn’t on my list of priorities,” Park replied. He looked around. Down below them he could see the new airport with the jet parked just off the runway, lashed securely to cleats in case of foul weather. It seemed a logical precaution with the rainy season due any time now. He also saw the farm, still smaller than planned but already producing some fresh food and the various building. There was also a large pile of timber that had been carted in from the nearest tree some hundred miles away. It was being cut into lumber and put aside to dry properly. One thing the base did not have was a kiln, so until one could be built, the lumber would have to dry naturally. Houses would just have to come a little later. “Where is it?”

     
“Built into the base,” Arn replied. “We have to produce our own fuel, but we do have the equipment.”

     
“Having a giant firecracker next to my bedroom doesn’t sound like the sort of thing I would want,” Park told him.

     
“It’s almost a quarter of a mile away and near as I can tell, the top of its silo is still two hundred feet down as well,” Arn explained “We’ll need to cut it out and also put in vent holes at the bottom or the whole thing will just explode when we light it off, but that will still be easier than moving it outside.”

     
“How the heck did they ever get it down there?” Park asked.

     
Arn just shrugged. “The tunnels in are just barely large enough, I guess.”

     
“They would have to be,” Park laughed. “Glad it wasn’t my job though, carting a rocket piece by piece down over half a mile and then assembling it. Some of those pieces are huge as I recall.”

     
“It you look carefully you can probably see gouges in the sides of the access tunnel,” Arn laughed. But Park did not think that was funny.

     
“That’s actually a good point,” Park decided. “We had better check that bird out from stem to stern before daring to launch it. The slightest bit of damage could be a disaster.”

     
“I’ll put you in charge of inspections,” Arn told him.

     
“Oh thank you so much,” Park replied snidely. “What do I know of rocket science?”

     
“I thought you knew everything,” Arn jabbed verbally.

     
“Apparently, I wasn’t issued omniscience while we were sleeping,” Park replied.

     
“But you do understand enough to supervise the team that does the inspection, Park,” Arn reminded him. “You thought of the possibility and the possible consequences. I hadn’t. I need to rely on you and everyone else to know what I don’t and so do you. Grab our experts and figure out what we need to look for.”

     
“We have rocketry experts?” Park asked.

     
“Two, in fact,” Arn replied. “Former NASA men. Put them in charge of training others in what they have to do and ask them how it all works.”

     
“If we had a ship I could probably fly her,” Park replied, “but I doubt I’ll ever be an expert on launching. But then I don’t have to be. I just have to understand the answers. All right. I’ll get that in motion today before we leave for Ghalati. We’re supposed to be there in time for dinner you know. It’s been a while since we had fresh seafood.”

     
“Makes me wonder what passes for a lobster these days,” Arn remarked.

     
“I’m just glad the lobsters don’t talk,” Park laughed.

     
The Van Winkle jet could hold twenty passengers, although Arn chose only twelve to accompany him to Ghalati. Paul Gonnes, the former Air Force man, turned out to be the only professional pilot, with experience with this particular sort of craft, but there were over fifty people at Van Winkle Base with licenses to fly various craft, Park included. So it was Park who acted as copilot for the flight north to the Mer city. “Just trying to get experience with everything,” Park told Paul. “You never know when it may be essential.”

     
“Yes, sir,” Paul responded. “I would feel better if we had the radar tower installed already.”

     
“Nothing but those neobats and big insects in our airspace today, Paul,” Park told him. “Hopefully that won’t last, but for now, we’ll just have to keep an eye out. Once we’re in Ghalati airspace they’ll give us course corrections, I’m sure.”

     
“Then I’m glad I have you in the cockpit, sir,” Paul told him. “I’m terrible with languages.”

     
“I wouldn’t worry,” Park laughed. “They already have the auto-translation algorithms from Taodore’s computer. They’ll be giving us instruction in perfectly good English and they’ve promised to give each of us torqs on our arrival.”

     
“Those necklace things?” Paul asked. “Are they really all that useful? I mean having a translator is nice, but…”

     
“They’re a lot more than translators, Paul,” Park told him. “They are more like the ultimate Personal Digital Assistant, smartphone and encyclopedia all rolled into one. They connect to the Mer computer net and can be used to access anything in their data banks, well anything we have permission to see, but Taodore assures me that aside from personal data, very little is hidden. They only have one government so there are far fewer secrets to be kept, I guess. In any case they operate both by vocal commands and through manipulation of the buttons along the outsides and when you pull up a video-based file it will project it for you on a nearby wall or even just a piece of paper you can hold in front of you.

     
“I still need to improve my ability to read in Merish,” Park added. “I’m still not too far past the ‘See Dick and Jane’ level and while they have vocal translations, I do like to read for myself. Besides their translators are only as good as the input we have given them. They make the occasional error. It can be amusing at times.”

     
“Yes, sir,” Paul nodded noncomittally. “VW1 to tower, are we cleared for takeoff? Over.”

     
“All clear, VW1, have a nice trip and bring us back some souvenirs from the beach,” came the reply.

     
“Wasn’t she supposed to supposed to say, ‘Over?’” Park more commented than asked.

     
“Civilians, sir,” Paul commented as the jet’s engines revved up and they started to roll down the runway. “Besides, it’s an old convention. It’s not really necessary with duplexing transceivers and hasn’t been for a very long time.”

     
Three hours later they made their approach to Ghalati. “Short runway here,” Paul grunted after he received landing instructions.

     
“Not too short, I hope,” Park commented nervously.

     
“Longer than a carrier deck, sir,” Paul shrugged, “but no net to catch us either. There’s room for error, though. We’ll make it.”

     
Park looked at the approaching runway and decided that maybe it was just as well Paul was flying today. To distract himself, he took his first look at the City of Ghalati.

     
The airport had been built to the east side of a river they later learned had the name Towint. The city itself was built along the banks of the river and into the shallows of the very southern tip of Hudson’s Bay, which the Mer referred to as the Bay of Coolinda. Park already knew the Mer preferred to expand horizontally rather than vertically, but he had not realized how far they expanded. The business district was composed of three-story tall buildings that had all been built on dry land, but the residential neighborhoods were in the bay itself where there were waterways for streets, reminding Park strongly of Venice before the Innundation.

     
Ghalati was a very large city as well and as they came in for a landing, Park began to wonder how the denizens got from one place to another quickly. Then he turned his attention back to what Paul was doing and made careful note of how he landed on the short strip. After it was over, Park realized that he had worried for no reason. The small jet had no trouble stopping in the available strip length.

     
“You make it look easy,” Park told Paul appreciatively.

     
“Nothing to it, sir,” Paul replied with a smile. “This baby’s no 797. I could have brought us to a complete halt one hundred yards behind us if I’d needed to. So could you.”

     
“I think I could have kept us from going into the drink,” Park replied, noticing the river just beyond the end of the runway, “but I’m fairly sure we would have used most of the runway to do it.”

     
“Nonsense, sir,” Paul laughed. “I’ve seen you fly. You brought her in about the same way I did in practice at Van Winkle.”

     
“Didn’t seem that way,” Park admitted.

     
“No, sir,” Paul continued to laugh as they taxied off the runway and toward a long terminal building. “The length of the strip just makes it seem tight in comparison. Our strip is long enough to accommodate anything that flew in our day. I imagine our friends are going to wonder why we built it so long.”

     
“That could be,” Park smiled. “Maybe they’ll think we meant to be able to land two planes at once; one from either end.”

     
“Ha!” Paul laughed so hard Park took hold of the jet’s steering yoke just in case. “I wouldn’t even want to try that in an air show, but wouldn’t that be something to see?”

     
“That it would,” Park agreed. “Looks like we’re expected. That’s quite a crowd we’re attracting. You would think these folks had never seen a two hundred and fifty million year old jet plane before.” Paul grinned back at him, but then turned his attention to bringing the plane to a halt near what seemed to be a platform with a brass band playing on it. “I’m supposed to be one of the first ones out. See you on the ground, Paul.”

     
“Looks like your people are welcoming us with full honors, Taodore,” Park chuckled as he went back to join the others. Iris had just opened the exit door and Tina was about to extend a small ladder for everyone to ascend to the ground on. The music from the band sounded all wrong to the humans. It was obviously something being played in a march tempo, but the notes all seemed sharp or flat to their ears.

     
It was obvious the Mer did not compose their music using a diatonic scale. He thought back and remembered Marisea being fascinated by human music and saying how much she liked it, although Taodore had never said anything about it. Had he been polite? It was possible. Park decided to emulate the younger Mer and keep his mind open to new experiences. Taken on its own merits this was no better or worse than the marching band music he had grown up with.

     
“Did you expect any less?” Taodore asked with the same smile Park was wearing. “We don’t welcome new people to Earth every day, you know.”