The Karasor Read online

  Narikin returned the bow, “They were fine, thank you. The tea was excellent. I didn’t like the pie very much - but don’t tell Chef Huldi I said that.”

  Gader smiled, “They are an acquired taste. I’m not fond of them either but the captain loves them and thinks we should too.”

  As they were standing by the lifeboats, it seemed a good opportunity to ask about what would happen if they ever had to abandon the Kyzyl Kum. “Are there enough places for everyone?” he added, looking at how small the boats were.

  Gader smiled, “These are for the engineers in the hangar above. You’ll find four more behind the bridge and there are twenty-two in the outer hulls. But in an emergency, we would rely on the big launches outside to evacuate the majority of the crew.”

  “Has that ever happened?”

  “Just once since I’ve been on board; one of the nuclear missiles fell from its cradle and we cleared the ship until it was made safe. But pray it never happens – our launches are short-range and there’s only enough water on board to last three days at the most.”

  After talking to Gader, Narikin went in search of Nokodo, the Chief Communications Officer. The radio equipment was shielded behind thick walls of iron plates on ‘B’ deck and the room hummed with the sound of glass valves and the fans that kept them cool.

  Nokodo was busy checking wires and connectors, taking each one out and listening carefully to the sounds they made as he put them back. He was pleased to meet his prince again. “Welcome to my world,” he smiled, his tiny moustaches flapping like wings.

  “I didn’t think the radio would be so big,” said Narikin, looking at the solid banks of cabinets.

  “That’s why it’s not on the bridge.”

  “How does it work?”

  Nokodo took him on a tour of the room, from the banks of amplifiers and modulators, to frequency generators and transmitters. There were filters, oscillators and vacuum tubes. “The mast carries the aerial,” he added. “The signal is amplified by the solar and planetary spheres so it will travel further with less power but, as you can see, we still need a lot of equipment to make it work.”

  Narikin found he understood the principles even if the complicated web of switches, dials and wires baffled him.

  “It’s one of the advantages we have in the Third Sphere,” Nokodo added. “Without our network of radar and radio stations along the border, we would find it impossible to respond quickly to potential threats.”

  Narikin thanked him for his time and left the technician to his sockets and plugs. He was glad he didn’t have to sort it out if or when it went wrong.

  Next on his list was a visit to Quassin’s elite warriors. He found his palms sweating as he made his way to their quarters. Stories of their bravery were known across the empire; how they were fearless in battle and lived a simple life on board the ship. He didn’t like to think about what they might make of him. A mouse among cats, came to mind; a toy to be mocked and thrown around.

  Their quarters were easy enough to find, being at the other end of ‘B’ Deck to where his own cabin was. There were two long rooms separated by a corridor that led to the aft turret. The doors were open and he could see the warriors cleaning their rifles, pistols, and swords. There was a strong smell of gun-oil and wax.

  Tentatively, he entered the barrack on the left. The bunks were along each side with just a thin strip of tatami matting on the deck between them. There was nothing else in the room; no decorations on the walls except weapons and the bunks were just wooden platforms.

  The room was hot and most of them were not wearing their shirts. They were all as big as Fengtai but even more muscular than the fisherman’s son. There was a rawness about them, as though their power was barely contained and Narikin was glad they were on his side.

  They leapt to their feet and stood to attention as soon as they saw him. He should have introduced himself but his mouth was too dry to speak.

  He walked down the length of the room, nodding to each warrior in turn. They nodded back, with their fists over their hearts in the traditional Karasor greeting, and then stared into space as Narikin moved on to the next.

  Afterwards, he breathed a sigh of relief and ran back to his cabin for a break. He sat on his bunk and hoped he hadn’t embarrassed himself too much.

  He should have said something, he thought, but what wouldn’t sound patronising, to a warrior, coming from a ridiculous squib like him?

  However, when he met Quassin later, the Sword Master was full of praise, “They did not expect the son of Shōgun Karasor would bother to visit them and your gesture is appreciated.”

  Narikin was surprised, “I didn’t think I’d made much of an impression.”

  “It was the manner of your visit that impressed them.”

  “I couldn’t even speak...”

  “They took your silence for dignity and respect.”

  Narikin almost burst out laughing but Quassin was being serious. “Please tell them the honour was mine.”

  There was no such formality when he went to see the rest of the crew’s quarters. Nobody stood by their beds as he entered but gathered around him, eagerly. He had met many of them in the mess-hall already and they treated him as one of their own, which he liked.

  Their quarters were adorned with colourful bits of tat. There were bright curtains around their bunks for privacy and the floor was covered in rugs. Drying clothes hung from lines across the room and between them were boxes being used as chairs and tables with unfinished games on the top.

  Narikin showed them his list and pointed to the sentence on ‘helping to load a turret’. There was a quick discussion: “The aft turrets are full,” said one.

  “The magazine on the forward turret has four slots left,” said another.

  There was no shortage of volunteers to show their prince what to do but eventually they agreed Ensign Naja should have the honour - not because he was necessarily the best but he was the only one who had finished his laundry.

  Narikin bowed to the crew and thanked them for their help, which seemed to embarrass the humans and confuse the rest. Except when they were working, they were not used to being shown respect.

  Naja was Pentī but dressed like a human in a loose shirt and thick-soled boots. He wore a ring in his ear and his hair was shaved off. Narikin could see colourful tattoos peeking from under his collar and cuffs.

  He took Narikin across the corridor to the ordnance store. It was the third and highest of the three in the main hull. There were thick doors covered in warnings on the outside and inside Narikin found row after row of shells standing up-right in cages. Each shell was nearly two feet long and eight inches wide, made of brass and a grey metal flecked with green.

  “Those are pieces of nicol crystal,” Naja explained when Narikin asked. “They cannot pierce them but when they hit an Exarch field they confuse the enemy’s detectors and it make it difficult for them to track us.”

  “But how do they get through our shield without doing the same to us?”

  “We tune them to our frequency.” He showed Narikin a ring around the base of each of shell. “It’s very important we check them before they’re loaded – otherwise they will bounce back and wreck the ship.” He laughed, “And we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

  “No,” Narikin agreed.

  Naja took the restraining bar off the cage. The shells were as heavy as Narikin could lift but fortunately there was a cart to transport them the rest of the way. Narikin wheeled the four shells to the other end of the ordnance store. In the corridor outside was the lift to take them up to the next deck.

  “Normally, there would be another loader at the top,” Naja explained. “But we’ll have to walk back and use the stairs – nobody is allowed to ride on the lift.”

  “Why not?”

  “If the extra weight broke it, we would have to carry the shells up the stairs by hand.” Then he grinned, “But we could send you up without too much risk, my lord...?”
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  Narikin declined politely. There was no rail around the lift and he didn’t fancy being crushed under the trapdoor if it failed to rise for any reason.

  Naja laughed, “Like a nut in a cracker.”

  He showed him how to line the cart up and then went to the wall to the controls. There was buzzer to warn anyone on the deck above, then a button to raise the trapdoor, and another to raise the platform on its single piston. The cart disappeared and he led the way to the stairs, shutting the doors behind them.

  As they climbed up, Narikin asked, “Why do they call you ‘Naja’? Wasn’t he a Venor?”

  Naja undid his shirt, slipped it off his shoulders, and showed him a tattoo of a snake on his back. “Many years ago, I was a bandit and a member of the Snake Cult of Venor on Wanmori. I didn’t do anything bad except steal from the local farmers but I was caught and sentenced to ten years on Kurō Island. Captain Kruvak, knowing I had been young and stupid, offered me another chance. But he said I must wear the name Naja, like this tattoo, to remind me not to be so stupid again.”

  “What’s your real name?”

  Naja smiled but wouldn’t tell him, “This is my identity now.”

  They retrieved the cart and Narikin wheeled it down the corridor towards the front of the ship. They passed the quarters of the rangers, the ship’s fire station and systems monitors, past his own cabin and those of the other junior officers, until they reached the bottom of the turret on the other side. Underneath the turntable, the magazines hung down through slots in the ceiling. Each magazine held a column of shells in a complicated system of cradles and chains that lifted them up to the launcher.

  Narikin filled the empty slots and then Naja took him up the ladder to show him the inside of the turret. The four launchers pointed forwards through slits in the armour at and at the back was the gunner’s seat under a dome.

  Naja invited him to climb into the seat. “You can turn the turret using the pedals,” he said. “And raise or lower the launchers with the levers – the buttons to launch the shells are on the top.”

  Narikin swung the turret around, motors humming in the background. He was surprised at how slowly it moved, “How can you hit a ship going at speed?”

  “You can’t,” the gunner admitted. “They move too fast – but I would be aiming for their field and not the ship itself. And I rely on orders from the captain or the radar operator rather than finding the target by eye.”

  Narikin climbed down. Like the observation dome, the gunner’s position felt exposed and vulnerable and he was glad to get back inside the ship.

  He thanked Naja for helping him and the gunner was pleased to have been of service. “If you would like to help again,” he added. “I’m sure we would put some muscle on your bones.”

  “I’m sure you could,” Narikin agreed. He’d only carried four shells to the cart, wheeled them to the turret and put them in the magazine, but his arms felt tired already and his back was aching. He couldn’t imagine how Naja and his colleagues kept up a flow of munitions to the weapons, hour after hour, during a battle.

  His penultimate task was to visit the portside hull and its commander, Lieutenant Hidari. He was welcomed with enthusiasm and plied with tea in the operations room. The outer hulls enjoyed a certain amount of independence from the rest of the ship; they had their own quarters and supplies and could survive on their own for quite some time should they become detached from the main hull. “Not that we would want to,” Hidari laughed. “We only have a bucket for a toilet!”

  “I saw what happened to the Kara Kum,” said Narikin.

  The lieutenant nodded, “We heard she lost a hull. When we use the plasma weapons, we have to drop the Exarch field. It’s a powerful weapon but it makes us vulnerable and that’s why we’re stuck out here.” He smiled and held up his cup, “But we’re not worried, are we?” His crew cheered and joined his toast, “To glory and the empire!”

  After their tea, Hidari took him to see the weapons at his disposal. “The plasma tubes are like our elephants,” he explained as they looked at the sphere where the plasma was made. It was three decks high, with the accelerators running a third the length of the hull. “We lead with them as we charge into the battle. The turrets are our wolves; they run down our prey. Our torpedoes blind our quarry like the venom of a cobra, the mines spring traps like spiders and the missiles are our hawks for when the beast breaks cover.”

  Narikin smiled, “Those are good comparisons.”

  He wondered what an elephant was.

  “I’ve written a poem, if you’d like to hear it...”

  Narikin waved his list, “I have to count the number of wing missiles first, maybe later...?”

  Hidari nodded happily, “Let me show you our store.” He took him down to the bottom of the hull.

  The wing missiles were over eight yards long and painted green. Six of them sat in wheeled cradles beside the door that opened down like the ramp at the stern. There were chains and rails above and when the lieutenant pulled a lever, the door tipped down to reveal the underside of the outer wing where another ten missiles were hanging.

  “After the missiles are fired,” he explained, “We use the chains to raise the next ones up to the rails and then slide them along the wing. It’s a tricky operation and as you can see, we don’t have room for more than six replacements so it’s barely worthwhile, especially during an attack.”

  “What about the nuclear torpedoes – how many of those do we have?”

  “Just four in this hull, another four opposite and twelve in the main. But once they’re gone, there’ll be no more.”

  Narikin nodded, “That’s what Captain Subarsi said.”

  “Unless we can find a new source, of course. They say we left hundreds behind when we abandoned Bastion but I find that difficult to believe.”

  “I expect most of them were used up when we attacked Variola.”

  Hidari nodded, “Still, that’s a problem for our masters and not for us – would you like some more tea?”

  Narikin held up his list again, “I’d better get back to this – just one more task to go.”

  Lieutenant Hidari escorted him back to the corridor to the main hull. “Come and see us again soon,” he smiled.

  “I will,” Narikin promised.

  “I’ve still got my poetry to show you.”

  Narikin smiled politely.

  The last task was a visit to the starboard hull. Lieutenant Migi was in charge. He seemed less pleased to see Narikin and made a great show of how well-run his part of the ship was compared to his opposite number on the other side.

  As he showed Narikin the conveyor belts that dropped the barrel-like mines out of the back of the hull, he said, “Since I have been in charge, they have never broken down – unlike my colleague’s. Lieutenant Hidari’s belts are very unreliable.”

  And when they were next to the plasma chamber, he said, “I have kept the pressure inside at optimum for six months without a single glitch in the array.”

  Narikin had no idea what he was talking about but he nodded and said, “That’s very impressive.”

  It was a similar story in torpedo bay where several of his crewmen were polishing missiles and making them ready for the tubes at the front.

  “I’m sure the captain would have nothing to complain about here,” said Migi, picking a piece of cotton from a torpedo and putting it in his pocket.

  “I’m sure he wouldn’t,” Narikin agreed.

  The lieutenant frowned and led the way to the operations room on the deck above. It was very clean and tidy. The monitoring stations were dust-free and the paper records were stacked neatly in shallow baskets. His personal area was a model of military precision.

  “Very nice,” said Narikin, wondering why there were no pictures on the wall or other evidence of the crew. Hidari’s room, like the bridge, had been full of bits and pieces.

  “I feel frippery undermines discipline,” Migi said. “I like to keep a strict hous
e - much like your father’s, I imagine.”

  Narikin didn’t think that was such a good thing but he didn’t comment. “How long have you been in command of the starboard hull?”

  Migi looked uncomfortable, “I have served on the Kyzyl Kum for many years.”

  Narikin waited for him to say how long he’d been in charge of the starboard hull but he was oddly silent. Then it began to dawn on him that the lieutenant was new to the post and might even be afraid the prince was going to replace him.

  “I could never command a part of a ship let alone a whole one,” he said, hoping the lieutenant would get the hint.

  Migi didn’t. “We cannot choose how we serve; if the captain decides one person or another is suited to a role, that is his fate and he must deal with it in whatever way he can.”

  “Fortunately, it’s my fate to be the photographer on this ship...”

  Migi paused, “You have knowledge of making images?”

  “Lots of knowledge,” Narikin agreed. “I don’t imagine the captain will have me doing anything else while I’m on board the Kyzyl Kum.”

  The lieutenant let out a sigh of relief, “I thought you were here to replace me...”

  “Not that I’m aware of...”

  He sat down in a chair heavily. “That’s a relief,” he said, his tone changing.

  “I’m sure you’re doing a fine job...”

  Migi shook his head, “To tell you the truth, the conveyor belts haven’t broken down because we haven’t used them, the plasma pressure is at zero so that’s pretty easy to maintain and I’m sure polishing the torpedoes won’t make them faster when they run through the tubes.”

  “I expect your people like to be busy,” Narikin consoled.

  The lieutenant’s shoulders slumped and he shook his head, stared at the deck miserably. “Some of them have complained I’m being too strict with them and I’m afraid the captain is thinking of sending me back to the fire room in the main hull.”

  “I’m sure the captain would like you to run your section of the ship as efficiently as possible. How you accomplish that is probably up to you.”