The Karasor Read online

  Jamadar shook his head, “Our evidence is too slim and a large movement of ships might provoke the Taira into thinking we’re attacking them and not preparing to defend the empire from an exterior, and thus far invisible, force.”

  “The Taira have no ships in this region; how would we be ‘provoking’ them?”

  “Any movement of our fleet would look suspicious,” said Kruvak. “After my encounter with the Harima Nada and the attack on the Kara Kum, they’re expecting retaliation of one kind or another. Jamadar is right; they will not believe we’re preparing to meet a new enemy unless we can prove it exists. However, you don’t agree that we should go looking for this army either – so what should we do, War Master?”

  “I’m certain we need to resolve the quarrel between our clans first.”

  “How do you suggest we do that?”

  “By stopping Uigur from whatever he’s planning across the border from Sarillon...”

  “We don’t know that he’s planning anything,” Durgah said. “His behaviour towards the prince may have been rude and intended to insult the Shōgun, but he wouldn’t disobey him so completely, would he?”

  “I don’t know, Durgah,” said Kruvak. “But the thought that he might deliberately start a war with the Taira does worry me. Narikin, do you have an opinion?”

  Narikin shook his head but asked, “Do we know what the population of Tenrec was?”

  Nobody knew exactly but the figure was in the hundreds of thousands. “What’s your point?” Kruvak asked.

  “If you’re right and the insects were not just being tested but fed, won’t they need to feed again? The Rickobites could be committing acts of genocide across their empire.”

  “They could be,” he agreed.

  “The Taira would say that’s a matter for their consciences, not ours,” said Durgah.

  “But our colonies could be next...”

  “He has a point,” said Quassin. “If there are caches of the monsters along our border, we could at least deprive the Rickobites of the element of surprise. We need not try and destroy them but if our previous visit forced them to withdraw from Tenrec, perhaps it would have the same effect elsewhere…?”

  “Then the Taira would say the threat is over and they would definitely withdraw from the Third Sphere,” said Durgah.

  Jamadar asked, “Captain, what are your thoughts?”

  Kruvak thought for a while and then replied, “If I was the Rickobites, I would be keeping my weapon as secret as possible until I was ready to use it. They eliminated the Tenrec and destroyed their factory so we wouldn’t know how many of the creatures they’ve made. We need to open a dialogue with the Taira; both our navies will be needed to protect the border worlds. If there is an insect army waiting, not at Variola but on Lobose or Storax or any of the other Rickobite systems in this region, we will not be enough to stop them on our own.”

  “What are your orders?”

  “I want to catch up with the Kyzyl Mazhalyk. After his behaviour towards my cousin, I don’t trust Uigur; it would be a small step for him to cross the Meros and pick a fight with a Taira ship on their side of the clearway. We know he believes our clan should control the destiny of our empire in the Third Sphere and this would be his way of bringing the argument to a head. And a war between our clans would allow the Rickobites to feed their creatures on whomever they choose - including our people if we’re not there to defend them, together. Do we agree?”

  Even though the captain had the last word, Narikin was impressed with the way he consulted his officers first. And they may have disagreed with his final decision but now it was made, they followed his lead without further questions. “Yes,” said Durgah and the others nodded too.

  After the meeting was over, Jamadar stopped Narikin in the corridor and asked if he was all right. “You seemed a little distracted,” he said.

  “I’ve never seen a dead body before, let alone hundreds, and the whole experience has left me a bit shaken.”

  Jamadar patted him on the shoulder, “I know it was a harsh introduction to the Third Sphere but there are many more wonders than there are horrors.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Talk to me if you need to,” the War Master smiled.

  Narikin had to re-live everything he’d seen on Tenrec when he developed the photographs and found it difficult to sleep afterwards. He dreamt of luminous eyes coming at him out of the darkness, scimitar arms spread wide, and he woke up sweating and nauseous.

  It took over a day to develop all the evidence. As he hung the last of the photographs on the line, the storeroom was thick with fumes and his head was aching. He turned on the main light and turned off the red one. Hundreds of wet sheets of photographic paper were hanging in rows between the bulkheads. He had used up two rolls of film and turned them into pictures of various sizes, from small four-by-six-inch snaps to twelve-inch squares showing as much detail as could be managed without blurring too badly.

  If it hadn’t been for the nature of the images, he would have enjoyed using his new darkroom. His equipment was working perfectly and he had everything he needed in abundance. There was enough photographic paper to print thousands of pictures and the bottles of chemicals would last for months. But line after line of skeletons, pegged up to dry, many belonging to children, made him feel sick to his stomach. The stink of the chemicals didn’t help.

  Ducking under the lines, he opened the door into his cabin and took down the ‘Do Not Open’ sign. The fresher air wafted over him. He stood still and breathed deeply, hoping to clear his head. He hadn’t realised how hot the storeroom had become.

  There was knock on the outer door. Narikin opened it and found Quartermaster Pelike and an assistant waiting in the corridor. “We came earlier but you were busy,” he smiled. He was carrying a box of tools and his assistant was laden with bits of metal boxing and strips of metal.

  Pelike was one of the older members of the crew. He was from the Ishan clan rather than the Karasor and wore a dark blue scarf. Some people said he’d helped to build the Kyzyl Kum. He had broad moustaches and his hair was tied-up in a complicated knot with pens, pencils and rulers sticking out at different angles.

  “The captain says you need a better ventilation system.” He wrinkled his nose at the smell from the storeroom, “I think I can see why.”

  “It does get pretty strong,” Narikin agreed, leading the way through his cabin to the room at the back.

  The sight of the ghostly skeletons seemed to unsettle the assistant but Pelike ignored them and turned to a problem he could solve instead. He looked at the ceiling and the connecting duct, pulled a pencil out of his hair and began to make notes.

  “We can’t have you poisoning yourself,” he smiled.

  “Or anyone else,” Narikin added.

  “We’ll fit a parallel duct, open up the wall and pass it to a separate filter on the other side – I’ve got one spare left so I hope none of the others break down.”

  “Is that likely?”

  He looked at Narikin ruefully, “I wouldn’t like to tempt fate by saying either way. I don’t want to have to start stripping down the landing craft for parts but we’re getting close. The whole ship needed an over-haul a long time ago. She’s running on nothing but prayers and good will – so don’t be insulting her, even in your sleep.”

  “I saw the Kara Kum being re-fitted on the Kyzylagash.”

  “She’s the reason we’re having to pull double-duties out here. If we had her with us, we wouldn’t be so stretched and maybe we could fix the really serious problems.”

  “We’re not going to break down, are we?”

  He shrugged, “You can never tell - what works perfectly well today could be broken tomorrow. All it would take is one leak in a pipe, a few seconds of water flowing where it shouldn’t and we could be stranded for days.”

  Narikin shook his head, “I didn’t know things were this bad...”

  Pelike smiled, “They’ve been bad for years,
young prince, but where there’s a will and a hammer,” he waved one in the air, “There’s no problem that can’t be fixed.”

  Narikin left the quartermaster to his work and took a bundle of dry photographs to show his cousin. He found him alone in the wardroom with the forearm of the giant mantis on the table in front of him. He was sipping tea and looking at it pensively.

  Narikin put his photographs down and Kruvak poured him a cup. “Take a seat,” he said.

  “I have a picture of it too,” he said, sifting through the finished prints, “Here - I put my father’s tantō-blade beside it for scale...”

  “Good – we will send a copy back to him and the council on Pentī Prime. The seal on the scabbard should give it some authority.”

  “What will they make of it?”

  He sighed and said, “It won’t convince them the threat is more than a localised problem; a few rogue insects on a world outside our borders – nothing extraordinary.”

  “I have an image of the crater too...”

  He showed him. It was a good picture; he’d managed to avoid getting the scout’s outrider in the shot and there was minimum reflection from the canopy. But Kruvak merely nodded and said, “What does it really prove?”

  Narikin felt disappointed with his reaction. His head was hurting, he stank of fixers and he hadn’t eaten properly for days. He drank his tea quietly and tried not feel critical of his cousin.

  Kruvak noticed and apologised, “I’m sorry, cousin; you have done your best and these are excellent photographs. You’ve justified my faith in your ability to use this clever technology. I am sorry I could not place you in a position to take definitive evidence. If we had arrived sooner on Tenrec, we may have caught the Rickobites in the middle of leaving.”

  “We might also be dead.”

  Kruvak shrugged, “That’s an occupational hazard. But you have done well and I’m pleased.”

  “You won’t tell anyone I threw up, will you?”

  Kruvak smiled, “I would be more worried if you hadn’t. However, I have a new mission for you that I think you will like much better.”

  “Mission...?”

  “It’s customary for new recruits to spend time getting to know the whole of the ship and not just the area they’re assigned to. What with going to Tenrec and you being busy in your darkroom, we have neglected that part of your training.” He opened a drawer and took out several sheets of paper. “I have made a list of places for you to find, people to speak to and things to check. It will be your opportunity to introduce yourself to key members of the crew and for everyone to meet you in person. Having the Shōgun’s son on board is a great asset but he needs to be seen to be one of us. We are a family on the Kyzyl Kum and I want your face to be as familiar to them as mine.”

  “I will do my best,” Narikin replied, taking the papers from him.

  “I know you will,” his cousin smiled.

  Not only were there places and people he would have to track down but tasks to be done as well: munitions to be counted, storerooms to be checked, dials to be read and levels to be drawn. And thus far, he could barely find the lavatory without having to ask. But Kruvak was right; it was a good opportunity to meet the people he was serving with and he embraced the task with enthusiasm. At the very least, it got him out of his cabin and away from the photographs of the dead.

  15 - The crew of the Kyzyl Kum

  First on the list was a trip to the galley to meet Chef Huldi. Narikin took the stairs at the end of the wardroom corridor back to ‘B’ Deck where his quarters were. He had to wind his way towards the ranger quarters and then the main staircase, past ‘C’ Deck where the majority of the crew had their bunks, to ‘D’ Deck. He nearly turned the wrong way into an ordnance store but the smell of cooking turned him around and he found a door marked ‘refrigerator’ that suggested he was on the right path.

  He could hear chopping and followed the sound until he arrived in the galley. “Chef Huldi...?” he said.

  Chef Huldi was Ainos, one of the quasi-alien race the first Pentī had created to serve and do menial tasks. Narikin’s friend, Chikutei, was also Ainos, but where the gardener had a tendency to fall asleep while leaning on his rake, Huldi was fiery. When he ate in the mess-hall, Narikin had often heard the chef shouting and didn’t quite know what to expect.

  The Chef stared at him for a moment. “Who are you?” he demanded.

  Narikin told him and wasn’t surprised when the Ainos looked blank. “Have you come to peel some carrots?” he asked, angrily.

  Narikin looked down at his list and there was definitely an expectation that he should help in some way. ‘See Chef Huldi,’ it said, ‘and spend an hour in the galley’.

  “Yes, Chef,” he replied.

  Chef Huldi beamed at him, “Then, you’re welcome.”

  Like all the Ainos, his skin was yellower than a Pentī and his eyes were a lighter purple, almost mauve. He had blue tattoos over his enormous arms with lines like twining ropes. He wore a spotless apron, huge baggy trousers and sandals made of wood. His hair was tied back and there was a little paper hat sitting incongruously on his head.

  His kitchen was small and cramped with barrels of grains and sacks of produce on the deck and rows of sauces in bottles on shelves around the walls. There was a serving area on two sides looking out across the columns of tables in the mess-hall. There was a large stove at the back with extractor fans whirring above it.

  The chef introduced him to a thick chopping board and a lethal collection of knives. Narikin had never chopped a carrot in his life and had to be shown what to do. While he worked, the chef moved around him with considerably grace and speed, despite his size.

  “We managed to buy fresh fish from the Awa,” he said, “Much better than the dried sort I normally have to use. But if we don’t use it up, it will be rotten by the end of the week.” He slapped a large herring onto another chopping board and took its head off with a single stroke of a cleaver.

  Narikin sliced the carrot he was holding delicately and tried not to cut his fingers off. “Is finding food a problem?” he asked.

  “We can spend weeks in space and there are 206 mouths to feed; sometimes we get down to a handful of rice a day and whatever I can scrape from the bottom of the barrels.” He took the fish apart with a series of violent strokes and scooped the pieces into a pot.

  He paused to watch Narikin’s feeble efforts, sighed and took over. “We will be on Sarillon before you finish – have you never helped your mother in the kitchen before?”

  “My mother is the Shōgun’s first wife – I don’t think she would know a raw carrot if she saw one.”

  The Ainos didn’t seem to understand. “Then how does she feed her husband?”

  “We have servants for that kind of thing.”

  The chef grunted, “On the Kyzyl Kum, even the captain does his turn in my galley.”

  Narikin was surprised, “He does...?”

  “Of course – did you not notice the senior officers helping to serve when you last ate?”

  Narikin confessed he hadn’t; he’d been too busy trying to keep the bowl of soup he’d been given from sliding off the tray. But now he thought about it, he remembered seeing Jamadar hovering in the background and on a previous occasion he had seen Quassin stirring a pot. Neither sight had registered at the time; he’d assumed they were merely inspecting the food rather than actually helping to make it.

  He could see the logic of the senior officers serving the crew. Even on Kimidori, it was traditional for the Shōgun, as head of the house as well as the clan, to serve the first dish of a meal to the guest of honour. The giving of food was an important tradition among his people and the chefs at the palace were treated with respect.

  After his kitchen duty, he went in search of Gader, the Master of the Boat Decks. He took a long time to find. First, he went down to the hangar at the stern, on ‘E’ Deck, where the two scouts were kept, expecting to find him in one of the engineering bays
. He wasn’t there but Narikin introduced himself to Chief Engineer Danaide who was responsible for the exterior of the ship and its propulsion systems. Pelike made sure the quarters were liveable and Danaide was in charge of everything else. He was drilling holes into a metal plate, making it ready to replace a rusted section of the hull. He was pleased to meet his prince. “I have seen you in the mess-hall,” he smiled. “But I am honoured to meet you in person,” he gave a formal bow.

  Narikin returned the bow. “Likewise, Chief Engineer - but you look busy...”

  He shrugged, “My work will never be complete – there’s too much condensation and too few opportunities to let the ship dry – but don’t worry; she is strong, she won’t fall apart just yet. What can I do for you?”

  “The captain has sent me on a quest,” Narikin explained. “I need to find Boat Master Gader.”

  “He was here a few minutes ago, but I believe he has gone to either the port or starboard loading platforms to look at one of the launches. ‘C’ Deck,” he added, helpfully.

  What sounded simple turned out to be complicated in practice. He knew from his brief tour of the Kara Kum the loading platforms were outside the main hull, on top of the nacelles that ran the length of the ship and in between the connecting corridors to the outer hulls. But there were airlocks to negotiate, with wheels and handles he found difficult to turn, and even when he found his way outside, he didn’t find Gader.

  He went back to the engineering bays and was told he had just missed the Boat Master; he had gone down to ‘F’ Deck to check the emergency lifeboats. Fortunately, they were not far away. Narikin descended more stairs, passed the brig where prisoners could be held, and found his quarry replacing water bottles on five small boats under the stern ramp.

  “Prince Narikin,” said Gader, looking surprised, “Is there anything wrong?”

  Narikin waved his list, “I was told to find you.”

  “Ah, the Captain’s famous induction tasks,” he smiled. He put down the bottle of water he was holding and bowed to Narikin. “I am very pleased to meet you again. Were the provisions I put on the scout for you adequate?”