Free The Continent Makers and Other Tales of the Viagens by L. Sprague de Camp Page A

engineering, electronics, calculus, strength of materials, aeronautics . . . He did a good job. Now, you!” He glared at the cringing Qarao. “Would you like to answer questions, or join your lamented master in the sea?”
    “I—I’ll answer, good my lord.”
    “Good. Who built this ship? I mean, who converted it to a steamship?”
    “Ahmad Akelawi, sir.”
    “And Ferrian and he fixed up a scheme to take the mummy to Earth, stuff it full of technical literature, and bring it back to Krishna, yes?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “What did Akelawi get out of it?”
    “Oh, His Sublimity had figured out a complicated scheme for converting some of his ancestral treasure into Earthly dollars. Also he was going to make Akelawi his Minister of Science, if Akelawi ever got back to Sotaspé.”
    “I see,” said Abreu. “He’s an original, this prince of yours; I’m sorry he’s drowned.”
    “Do we arrest this one?” said Castanhoso in Portuguese. “We could take the mummy along for evidence.”
    “Hm,” said Abreu. “It occurs to me that we made a serious mistake in letting the mummy back into Krishna without examining it more thoroughly, didn’t we?”
    “Pois sim.”
    Abreu mused: “And if we arrest this man, and so forth, that fact will come out. The results might be bad for the service, not to mention us.”
    “Yessir.”
    “If we drag Qarao back to Novorecife on charges of conspiracy to violate I.C. Regulation 368, Section 4, subsection 26, the native Krishnan states will make a terrible howl about illegal arrest, and we’ll be called murderers and imperialists and all sorts of hard names. Whereas if we let this one and his men go with a warning, and burn the ship, the matter will be ended to the satisfaction of all. Since the unfortunate prince is now fish-food, and we’ll be on the watch for Akelawi, there’ll be no more violation of the technological blockade from this source.”
    “True,” said Castanhoso, “but I hate to burn this handsome ship. It seems wicked to destroy knowledge.”
    “I know,” snapped Abreu, “but we have a policy to carry out. The peace of the universe is more important . . .” He turned to Qarao and spoke in Gozashtandou: “We’ve decided that this conspiracy was not your fault, since you merely carried out your master’s orders. Therefore, as soon as we’ve cleaned up and burned the ship—”
    “Iyá! Generous masters, pray do not burn the pride of the Sotaspeo navy . . .” and Qarao began to shed big tears.
    “Sorry, my good sir, but it must be. Zardeku, collect your men . . .”

    ###

    Meanwhile Ferrian bad-Arjanaq, Prince of Sotaspé, clung to the lowest paddle of the port wheel with only his head out of water. He could not been seen from the deck of the Kerukchi because the other paddles and the wheel structure were in the way. He had thrown off his helmet and was worming his way between duckings out of his mail-coat. After much straining exertion he got the thing off. It sank silently. Now at least he could swim.
    Although he could hear voices on deck, he could not make out the words over the sounds of wind and water, especially since the larger waves ducked him from time to time. A couple of loud splashes told him that the fatal casualties of the light were being disposed of. More tramping and voices, and sounds of things being broken up and moved about.
    Then a crackling that he could not at first identify. It took him some minutes to realize that the smell of woodsmoke, which normally clung to the Kerukchi , was much stronger than could be accounted for by stoking up the engine. When he realized that his prize ship was actually burning, he cursed by all the gods of his pantheon and added a salt tear or two to the Sadabao Sea.
    Well, he couldn’t hold this paddle all day. Presumably the other ship would push off from the Kerukchi ’s side and stand off a safe distance to windward to make sure that her prey was fully consumed. Nor would the Kerukchi simply