Free Rising Tides by Taylor Anderson Page A

an auxiliary, she carried only a few guns to save weight for things Irvin’s project might require, but like so many Allied ships, she was a highly modified Grik prize captured after the battle of Baalkpan. Even as he stared at her, Laumer began to feel a little dizzy and her masts almost seemed to blur.
    “At the mountain, sir! Look at the mountain!” Hardee blurted. Laumer turned to see and automatically looked up. And up.
    “Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat!” exclaimed Shipfitter Danny Porter, joining them from below. Far in the distance, a massive mushroom cloud of dark ash piled high into the otherwise clear late-afternoon sky above the volcanic mountain that dominated the island’s landscape. The ash resembled a titanic, roiling, spreading blot in the heavens.
    “What do you think, sir?” Tex asked. “Maybe it’s just a fart, like all them others.”
    “Bigger this time,” Porter said. “Might be just clearin’ its throat for something really big.” That was the closest anyone had come to suggesting that the Talaud Island volcano might “pull a Krakatoa” since Laumer’s own long-ago ill-considered comment.
    “Shut your hole, you mindless monkey turd!” Tex demanded. “You’ll jinx us for sure.”
    “Maybe not,” Laumer said thoughtfully. “According to reports from Mr. Ellis, and now General Alden too, Krakatoa hasn’t ‘pulled a Krakatoa’ on this world. They said they saw it, and it’s a humongous mother, but all the ’Cats who hang out around there say that aside from spewing a lot of red fire, it never does very much.”
    “Well,” Porter said, “ just because Krakatoa hasn’t ‘pulled a Krakatoa’ doesn’t mean Talaud’s not fixing to pop its cork.”
    “If you don’t shut the hell up, I’m going to feed you to the spiderlobsters if they come back,” Tex declared.
    Laumer put his hand on Tex’s shoulder. “Skip it,” he said. “You’re both right.” He looked at Porter. “You do need to lay off. You’ll upset the fellas.” He forced a laugh. “Shoot, you’ll upset me . You’re right, though; I don’t know anything about volcanoes, but that thing’s starting to give me the creeps.” Even as he spoke, the tremors slowly subsided and the relief he felt around him was palpable. He sighed. “Anyway, we’ve got to find some way to pick up the pace. Adar hasn’t come right out and ordered us off the project, and neither has the Skipper, but I guarantee Toolbox has already reported this latest burp. Her captain isn’t any happier about hanging around here than we are, and I can’t say I blame him. If we don’t wrap this project up pretty quick, I expect we will be ordered out.”
    “Maybe the transmission didn’t get picked up,” Tex said. “Comm’s been pretty spotty.”
    “Maybe not,” Irvin agreed, “but they’ll send it again. It usually does get through at night.”
    “Well, so what’s left?” asked Porter. “We’re afloat and the starboard diesel’s up and running. We could get the boat underway . . . well . . . today, for that matter, if only ...”
    “Yeah,” agreed Laumer, gazing at the beach-locked puddle the submarine floated in. “If only.”
    “Sid has six boats, nearly a hundred ’Cats, and the whole Toolbox dredging us a channel. They’re going as fast as they can,” Hardee defended.
    “I know. They’re all doing a swell job.” Laumer looked back at the mountain and rubbed his face with his hands. “We’re going to get some ash tonight. Make sure everyone’s under cover. Bring them on the boat if you have to. Maybe we can get an early start in the morning.”
    “Aye, aye, sir.”
    Irvin took a last look around at the battered submarine that he was determined to deliver—intact—back to Captain Reddy, and the ’Cats working so hard to help him succeed. Then he glared at the mountain in the dwindling light. He was on the very brink of accomplishing his mission—and the almost more important mission he’d set himself: to