World of Water by James Lovegrove Read Free Book Online Page A

can take over,” Dev said. “You go down and get some rest.”
    “You’re okay to pilot this thing? Not too sick?”
    “Give me my next nucleotide shot and I’ll cope. How hard can sailing a boat be? There’s the throttle, there’s the steering wheel...”
    “Ship’s wheel,” Handler corrected.
    “Whatever. The turny thing that makes you go right or left. We’re running on autopilot anyway. If I get into difficulties, I’ll give you a shout.”
    “All right. We’ve a few hours to go before we hit the tropical latitudes. Wake me when we’re below the twenty-third parallel.”
    “Which I’ll know we’ve done because...?”
    “Because that big red dot on that map screen there, which is us, has a number beside it, which is our GPS co-ordinates, and when the first bit of that number starts to read twenty-two degrees, then we’re –”
    “Okay, Captain Condescension. I get it.”
    “Please tell me that’s not my nickname.”
    “Captain Condescension? Nah. I can come up with something better than that. At the moment I’m edging towards Manhandler, on account of the way you shoved me into the sea yesterday and pushed me under.”
    “Manhandler,” Handler said, as though trying it on for size. “Could be worse.”

 
    11
     
     
    O NE SERUM PATCH later, Dev was left alone on the flybridge, minding the ship while his ISS liaison slept.
    After half an hour he was bored. One stretch of seascape looked much like another. So he searched the local commplant directory for 1st Lieutenant Eydís Sigursdottir.
    Her personal details were classified, but one of the few perks of working for ISS was high security clearance and the master-key override software that came with that. Soon he had a link for her, and called her. Handler was right: connection times on Triton were ridiculously slow. It was nearly a minute before he got through – he had begun to think Sigursdottir was asleep and had her commplant switched off.
     
    Yeah?
    Lieutenant Sigursdottir, how goes it?
    Who is this?
    Dev Harmer. We met last night.
    ISS guy? Charming nature? Dazzling personality? Great sense of humour?
    The fish-looking one who came with the other fish-looking one? And who can’t hold his drink?
    That’s me. Hailing you from the Reckless Abandon , currently cruising alongside your fine and rather intimidating catamaran.
    What do you want? It’s early.
    You’re up, though.
    I’m CO. Of course I’m up. Wait, how did you get hold of my commplant address?
    I’m sneaky. I only want to say hi. We didn’t really get a chance to chat before, did we?
    So?
    I thought, as we’re working together now, we ought to get acquainted. Break the ice. Strike up a rapport.
    Why do we have to do that?
    Because it’ll foster a close professional relationship.
    I have a unit of eight Marines under my command, all of them well trained, highly disciplined, and good at taking orders. Right now, a close professional relationship with them is the only one I need.
     
    Sigursdottir was going to be a tough nut to crack. But then Dev preferred it when women didn’t make life easy for him. He was perverse that way.
     
    So what do you do for fun around here? When you’re not busy with your Marine-y stuff, that is.
    Are you hitting on me?
    It’s called polite conversation. That thing where you find out things about other people and they find out things about you and it becomes a thing. That thing.
    In my down time I practise my Krav Maga, hit the weights racks, clock up hours at the shooting range, and keep on top of my studies for my diploma in interstellar logistics. And when I’m not doing any of that, sleep.
    Wow. I did say “fun”, didn’t I? You did hear that?
    We clearly have different definitions of the word.
    You don’t go for a drink, then? Maybe download a movie? Grab a pizza and just chill?
    Mr Harmer, I am a member of a Marine force stationed on one of the remotest Diasporan planets, more light years from home than I care to think about,