XXI

"You understand your orders, Lieutenant?" Amelia asked Alamimo. The two were standing upon the narrow ledge next to the sloop with the wind moaning above them.

"Yes, Commodore," Alamimo replied hesitantly. "Spacer Koholo and I are to remain here until the day before the flotilla is due to return to Situla. If you and the others have not returned by then we are to sail the launch back to the Smollette and deliver your orders."

"I'm sure we will be back long before then," Amelia assured the young woman. "Keep a careful watch. We don't know what it was that removed the drive from the sloop. Wouldn't do to have the same happen to the launch."

"No, ma'am," Alamimo said and looked down uncomfortably. "I would like to reiterate my protest at being left behind, Commodore."

"Duly noted, Lieutenant," said Amelia gently. "You are most needed here. Aside from Dr. Doppler and myself you are the only one who could get back to the ships. Study my charts and prepare your calculations. It would be difficult enough to make the needed adjustments with only one hand to steer her."

"Yes, Ma'am." Alamimo felt as if she were being left behind. She understood the necessity but that was small comfort to her. She had been through so much with these people, to be left to guard the launch now felt wrong.

Amelia turned to go but Alamimo put a hand out, stopping her. Amelia looked into her young face filled with worry.

"Good luck, Commodore," Alamimo said.

Amelia smiled and patted her hand. She turned then and joined the rest of the party in the entrance of the tunnel. Sound droned from deep within the rock. It was very low and not unlike the sound of water moving deep under the ground. The members of the party pulled their packs onto their shoulders and hefted their muskets. All looked to Amelia and she gave a nod. Fidda took Jack's compass, opened the lid and watched as the needle settled on a heading straight down the tunnel. With torches turned up to full illumination they strode in in single file.

Worried and frustrated Alamimo watched them go until the light of their torches faded into the gloom. A soft breeze rustled the furled sail and made the launch sway at its mooring lines. Alamimo was aware of these things but paid them no mind. She felt the weight of command on her shoulders consuming her, restraining her. Were she still the young, wild green Alamimo would have rushed after her friends. She had not been that child for ten years and never would be again. She closed her eyes and wished she were in her father's tree once more with his comforting songs in her ears. Her wishful memories were interrupted by the sound of Intepere clearing his throat. Alamimo turned to see him at the gunwale of the launch with a tray in his hands.

"Sorry, Lieutenant, but I know you haven't eaten since breakfast," he said sheepishly. "I took the liberty of assembling a small meal for you."

"A meal?" Alamimo said blinking. "I'm not sure I could eat just now, Mr. Koholo."

Intepere frowned thoughtfully down at the contents of the tray before he spoke again.

"I don't know as much about regulations as you do, Lieutenant, but I think there is a part in there stating that an officer must remain healthy and ready to do their duty. Officers are supposed to set an example for their crews. Is skipping meals the sort of example you intend to set, ma'am?"

This brought the slightest twinge of a smile to the young woman's lips.

"Very well, Mr. Koholo," Alamimo sighed. "I shall eat and set you an example. We'll dine in the cabin."

"We?" squeaked Intepere, his eyes widening in surprise.

"I don't intend to set an example on my own." She gestured at the tray. "Fetch enough for two but do not be extravagant. We may have a long vigil."

Intepere joined Alamimo in the little cabin aboard the launch a few minutes later. He entered with the same tray somewhat more heavily laden, but in accordance with the instructions, not to extravagance. Alamimo nibbled at first, hardly looking away from her plate. Intepere was still new enough to the life of a spacer to find even these survival rations interesting in their own way. Perhaps it was the strange world or the distressing situation that made him more nervous than usual. Perhaps his nervousness could simply stem from being this close to the unpredictable, fiery and quite beautiful young lieutenant. Either way, he was nervous and like many young men he began to babble.

"Until I joined the crew I had never tasted ship's biscuit." He nibbled the corner of one with a slight, bemused smile. "I'm still not sure if I like them. And the salted meat ration is always different. Never get it served the same twice. Still, as plain as the fair is I find it quite satisfying. A little heavy on breads and meat but filling and good for peasant food."

Alamimo's eyes rose from her plate at that statement. A mere spacer being so free with an officer present was not proper. She reminded herself, though, that Spacer 3rd class Koholo was very new to ship's discipline and since he was a privateer he was not actually a member of the fleet. She chose to overlook his indiscretion. This time.

"Peasant food?" she asked evenly.

"It's what my father calls it, ma'am" Intepere shrugged. "Father is of the opinion that the Fleet is fed too much and there are more ships than necessary. Too many officers getting admitted to the Academy and far too much spending on the ports and the expansion of the various facilities. He thinks more should be invested in mechanical monitoring stations and the like."

"And what do you think, Mr. Koholo?" Her voice contained a touch of irritation and smidge of anger. Intepere completely missed both.

"I'm not yet sure." He picked at a slice of hard cheese. "Seems like a great deal has been spent on getting the Fleet up to strength and yet there are all those ships still sitting in the graving docks back at Mhoth. Why bother refurbishing them if they aren't going to be used? And then there are all those dockworkers and tradesmen standing around or getting in each other's way. It's almost as if someone intentionally over staffed the yards so that they could make more money from the civil contractors."

"Money?" Alamimo asked suddenly genuinely interested. Her concern for the commodore and the rest quietly receded. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I hate to admit it but my father has been known to send three times as many workers to a project just so he can earn a larger bump from the contract holder." Intepere shrugged again. "It's a common practice."

"Bump?" Alamimo blinked at the unfamiliar usage of the word.

"When a contractor sends workers out to a project he gets a certain amount of money for each worker who actually shows up on time," the young Heliwr explained. "It's called a 'bump'. Government contracts usually have large budgets and are somewhat understaffed in the accounts department. The excess number of workers generally goes unnoticed for a few days so the bump is considerable. The more workers, the larger the bump. And the more days it goes unnoticed the more money a contractor makes. Smaller, privately run projects usually turn workers away after their roster is full but that doesn't decrease the amount of money for the contractor on the first day because the contract holder is still obligated to pay for all of the workers who show up on time."

"That sounds very unethical," observed the Lieutenant.

"Perhaps, but it is still legal," Intepere shrugged again. "It all depends on how the contract is written. The trade guilds are perfectly fine with it because their members get at least twenty percent of a day's wages if they are turned away. The contract holders normally budget more for a project than it is actually worth because they know this part of the game as well as anyone. And the contractors like my father always send just enough workers to make a fair sized bump without breaking the contract holders."

"And you say the number of workers on Mhoth is far in excess of the amount of work available?"

"I don't know about that, but it looked as if they were very poorly organized and since it is a government contract it's likely that the contractors are making a gigantic bump."

"That's war profiteering!" Alamimo snapped as she stood bolt upright. Her features twisted into an expression of outrage and indignation. Her Fleet was being used to line the pockets of unpatriotic thieves! Spacers were dying on the front lines of the war because someone wanted to get richer! To her these were not merely faceless individuals in uniform. They were her classmates, comrades, friends and family. Loyal men and women who were laying down their lives to stave off an invasion so these parasites could live in luxury and safety. Something had to be done!

"Who would these contractors be?" she demanded.

"Aside from my father?" Intepere said concerned at her sudden change of mood. "Most of the members of Parliament have some tie or other to the war industry. If we had the contracts we could find out."

"Where would we get the contracts?"

"Copies of them would be on Mhoth. Other copies would be in the records offices at Fleet Headquarters."

Alamimo paced in the small cabin like a lioness in a cage. Many thoughts and ideas blossomed in her mind. There were members of her family who might be able to get at those contracts. She might be able to initiate some action or other to force the contractors to do their duty and get those ships out to where they were sorely needed. Commodore Amelia had already taken some steps to help the Chief Administrator but surely there was more that could be done. And certainly those responsible would have to pay. She stopped pacing in front of one of the small portholes. She didn't at first know why she had done so but then realized there was something beyond the glass that had caught her attention. It was floating in the air and looking in on her. No larger than her clenched fist it seemed to ooze and shift with the eddies of the wind. A gelatinous pink body with no features other than a pair of very innocent-looking eyes and a small mouth that suddenly spread into an engaging smile.

"What the devil is that?" Alamimo breathed in confusion.

Considering how bad things had looked from the outside Jack thought the tunnel was rather more pleasant than he'd expected. Smooth walls and floor had transitioned to a vaulted roof supported by heavy iron beams with a uniformly red-orange floor of some material very like stone. There had been a gentle sound not unlike a river deep under the earth. Now it was clearly not a river and it was just as clearly not a single sound. Many whispers of metal on metal and tiny ticks and scrapes as of a great many clocks all spinning their gears under the pressure of many little springs blended together to give the illusion of a single sound. Deeper grating noises rumbled through the stone at levels almost too low to be heard but distinctly felt through the soles of his boots added an undertone of strength. These sounds were almost pleasant. Add to all these things the fact that there had been no signs of anything that might be considered dangerous and Jack had to wonder why he was absolutely certain they were all about to die a hideous and ignoble death.

Jack was very much in tune with his instincts and knew when he should pay close attention to them. One of his chief instincts at the moment indicated he should be drinking a large quantity of rum in some comfortable tavern on some warm tropical island anywhere on Earth rather than marching stoically to his death under the surface of an ancient and forgotten world so many millions of miles from the planet of his birth. This instinct was supplemented and reinforced by a slightly less powerful but far more persuasive instinct to turn and run away as fast as he could, perhaps even going so far as to do so while screaming like a little girl. He was held in his place by the very strong realization that he was, in fact, Captain Jack Sparrow, Pirate Lord of the Caribbean and Pirate Lords faced dangers others ran from. At least they did so whenever there were witnesses who might someday be able to tell others what had transpired. And then there was Fidda. Not only did she have his compass but he felt something strange whenever he looked at her. There had only ever been one other girl who had so captured his fancy. Unconsciously he breathed her name.

"Angelica..."

"What was that?" Anamaria asked as if surprised by the barely audible word.

"Hmm?" Jack replied suddenly aware he had spoken. He was about to say it was nothing, merely a passing thought, but Anamaria had not been talking to him specifically.

"There it is again!" she whispered harshly. Fear etched her features. She did not like this place. Anamaria was a child of the wide open seas and broad skies of Earth. Fresh wind and sparkling water had always been her companions. Down here with nothing but rock and iron revealed in patches of light cast by their torches she felt afraid and closed in. She would have long since turned back had it not been for the people around her. They were a comfort in this dark place but only enough of one to keep her going. "Did anyone else hear that?"

The whole party paused and listened. Among them Commodore Amelia had the sharpest hearing. Her ears pricked forward as she focussed on the tunnel ahead of them. She slowed her breathing and closed her luminous eyes to allow her mind to filter all the small noises and observe them for what they were. An instant later they snapped open and her torch panned down to a point some distance along the tunnel. In its light a tiny shape could be seen moving along a large conduit on the wall.

"What is it?" Anamaria asked with a mixture of relief and anxiety.

"A robot, I think," said Dr. Doppler. He peered at the little thing with fascination. It was no bigger than a loaf of bread with six short legs marching in sequence much the same way as an ant might. Small protrusions from its back and sides seemed to be various tools. For its part the robot completely ignored them.

"I thought robots were like that metal man, B.E.N." said Jack carefully observing the boxy little thing make its way along.

"B.E.N. is a robot but not all robots are the same," Delbert told him. "This one seems to be some sort of maintenance machine. With all of those tools and armatures it must be."

The little machine halted at what appeared to be an access plate on the side of the conduit. Tools unfolded from its back and in short order the plate was removed. Steam or smoke rose from the opening but the robot ignored it, inserting several of the small appendages into the conduit. In spite of himself Mr. Grugh eased over to the little thing and watched as it made whatever repair was needed. Carefully he lifted the access plate to examine it. The little robot having completed the repair extended an arm in quest of the plate but did not find it where it had lain. More arms sought the plate in vein. From its back what appeared to be a head rose. A blue lamp flared to life and the head rotated until the light of the lamp shone on Mr. Grugh's hand and the plate. With surprising speed an arm shot out and snatched the plate away replacing it over the opening with quick, precise movements. Its job done the robot folded its various appendages back in and crawled back along the conduit in the direction from which it had come.

"Mr. Grugh," Amelia said in a low voice. "That could have been a very dangerous thing to do. You saw what those things did to the drive aboard that sloop."

"Nothing that small pulled that drive, begging your pardon, Commodore." Grugh scratched at the base of one of his large, curling horns. "That one was naught but a pip, ma'am."

"Indeed," Amelia said absently. "We must be more wary."

"There is no place for us to hide," observed Dr. Meriwether. "Our lights expose us to any that might chance to cross our path. The noises reduce our chance of hearing anything beyond the torch's light. I don't mean we should be foolhardy but it seems a little late for wariness, Commodore."

"Wariness is all we have, Doctor," Amelia retorted gravely. "Fidda, does the compass continue to point true?"

Fidda shone the light of her torch on the small dial in her palm then down the tunnel. She nodded the affirmative. In the strange angles of light her face looked much younger and far more care worn than it had at any point on their journey. She was feeling greater stress now than she could remember feeling in her entire life. Even in the thick of the Battle of Muliphein she had not felt such apprehension. Of course, then she had been able to see her enemies and strike out against them. And her father had been there, too. Down here in the dark a host of enemies could lurk just beyond the patches of light and never be seen until they sprang upon the party. Some instinct made her draw closer to Amelia and Jack. She needed support. She desperately wanted to be somewhere else but she would not, could not leave here without her father. Fidda knew in her very bones that if all the others left or were killed she would go on until her da was safe.

"Very well," Amelai said stepping forward once more. "Let's continue on. As Mr. Grugh said, that one was only a pip. Nothing really to be feared."

"Aye, ma'am, but 'e's like as not got bigger brothers," Grugh grumbled. "We ain't seen the worst of it yet. Mark me words."

"Consider them marked," Amelia said in a droll, irritated tone. She stepped forward pushing the dark back with her torch as the others followed. It took only a few strides before she held up her clenched fist in the universal sign meaning 'halt'.

"What is it?" Jack asked. He felt the weight of his pistol in his hand and did not wonder how it had got there.

"Something moved down there." Amelia panned her torch back and forth a bit suddenly stopping when she caught a glint of light off some object or other. "Come on. No sense dallying about, eh? Weapons at the ready."

The party spread out slightly with Mr. Grugh at the far left and Mr. Brraadtt at the far right. They proceeded in a wedge keeping their weapons up. Whatever it was Amelia had seen did not retreat at their approach and soon they were able to make out a vaguely humanoid shape. Again Amelia halted them. She made an adjustment to her torch which tightened the beam but gave it greater range. In this narrow light she got the shock of her life.

"It's... you..." Jack breathed as he stared at the figure.