For Love of Mother-Not - Alan Dean Foster [55]
“I’ve lived my whole life in Drallar,” he said, which for all practical purposes was the truth.
“We don’t use these to kill the fish,” she explained. “Only to slow them up if they get too close to the boat.”
Flinx nodded, trying to picture the weapon in use. He knew that the lakes of The-Blue-That-Blinded were home to some big fish, but apparently he had never realized just how big. Of course, if the fish were proportional to the size of the lakes . . . “How big is this lake?”
“Patra? Barely a couple of hundred kilometers across. A pond. The really big lakes are further off to the northwest, like Turquoise and Hanamar. Geographers are always arguing over whether they should be called lakes or inland seas. Geographers are damn fools.”
They exited from the lodge. At least it wasn’t raining, Flinx thought. That should make tracking the fleeing mudders a little easier.
Flinx jumped slightly when something landed heavily on his shoulder. He stared down at it with a disapproving look. “About time.” The flying snake steadied himself on his master but did not meet his eyes.
“Now that’s an interesting pet,” Lauren Walder commented, not flinching from the minidrag, as most strangers did. Another point in her favor, Flinx thought. “Where on Moth do you find a creature like that?”
“In a garbage heap,” Flinx said, “which is what he’s turned himself into. He overate a few days ago and still hasn’t digested it all.”
“I was going to say that he looks more agile than that landing implied.” She led him around the side of the main lodge building. There was a small inlet and a second pier stretching into the lake. Flinx had not been able to see it from where he had parked his mudder.
“I said that we’d catch up to them.” She pointed toward the pier.
The boat was a single concave arch, each end of the arch spreading out to form a supportive hull. The cabin was located atop the arch and was excavated into it. Vents lined the flanks of the peculiar catamaran. Flinx wondered at their purpose. Some heavy equipment resembling construction cranes hung from the rear corners of the aft decking. A similar, smaller boat bobbed in the water nearby.
They mounted a curving ladder and Flinx found himself watching as Lauren shrugged off the rifle and settled herself into the pilot’s chair. She spoke as she checked readouts and threw switches. “We’ll catch them inside an hour,” she assured Flinx. “A mudder’s fast, but not nearly as fast over water as this.” A deep rumble from the boat’s stern; air whistled into the multiple intakes lining the side of the craft, and the rumbling intensified.
Lauren touched several additional controls whereupon the magnetic couplers disengaged from the pier. She then moved the switch set into the side of the steering wheel. Thunder filled the air, making Pip twitch slightly. The water astern began to bubble like a geyser as a powerful stream of water spurted from the subsurface nozzles hidden in the twin hulls. The boat leaped forward, cleaving the waves.
Flinx stood next to the pilot’s chair and shouted over the roar of the wind assailing the open cabin. “How will we know which way they’ve gone?”
Lauren leaned to her right and flicked a couple of switches below a circular screen, which promptly came to life. Several bright yellow dots appeared on the transparency. “This shows the whole lake.” She touched other controls. All but two dots on the screen turned from yellow to green. “Fishing boats from the other lodges that ring Patra. They have compatible instrumentation.” She tapped the screen with a fingernail. “That pair that’s stayed yellow? Moving, nonorganic, incompatible transponder. Who do you suppose that might be?”
Flinx said nothing, just stared at the tracking screen. Before long, he found himself staring over the bow that wasn’t actually a bow. The twin hulls of the jet catamaran knifed through the surface of the lake as Lauren steadily increased their speed.
She glanced occasionally over at the tracker. “They’re moving pretty well—must be pushing their mudders to maximum. Headed