“Have people around here ever named any of the segments?”
Orrick shook his head. “It’s bad luck. You name your segment, you start to identify with it. Almost like a nation. Then you start to talk about borders and armies. And the next thing you know, you’ve been Scattered as punishment.”
Freda, having finished with the sails, had joined the group. “It's not, punishment it's-”
“Yes, I’ve heard your doctrine before, Freda. It's not for us to judge the Administrator.”
“I'm not judging, Orrick. I'm discussing their motivation, and it does make a difference. Punishments escalate. Guidance doesn't.”
We were interrupted by a snort from midship. “You yokels and your legends about gods and demons. It is to laugh.”
Freda glared at Snidely, which didn't dent the supercilious expression on his face in the slightest. “Legends. Are you defective? The Administrator is as much a fact of life at the weather. Or do you think rain is a myth, too?
“Sure he is. He makes the grass grow, lifts the little birds into the air, and makes the sun rise in the morning.”
I stared in disbelief. This buffoon apparently believed that Heaven's River was a natural environment. I opened my mouth to correct him, then was overcome by the sheer irony of the situation. I was about to explain to an atheist, that god was real. I wanted to face-palm, but that would create questions. Best let the regulars take it.
Orrick and Freda formed an unsteady alliance, arguing against Snidely's amused intransigence. He was a classic case of Dunning Kruger - so entrenched and confident in his ignorance that he didn't even realize how much he didn't know. I let the argument drone on in the background while I watched the shoreline drift by. As enjoyable as the days on the river with my friends had been, there was a lot to be said for the sailor lifestyle as well.
The argument escalated to the point where it attracted the captain's attention though. “Enough!” she yelled. “There’s deck to be cleaned, the bilge needs pumping, the cargo still hasn't been tarped, and the spinnaker still hasn't been raised! Make yourselves useful!”
Well, that was that. And Snidely took this turn of events as a victory, to judge from the pleased expression on his face.
The next couple of days were uneventful. We got caught a brief downpour, which elicited howls of complaint from Snidely. Why a creature that was designed for water should hate rain was beyond me, but then again, the family dog used to be on a first-name basis with every puddle and stream in our neighborhood, but would feign death when we tried to bathe her. Go figure.
I continued to avoid interaction with Snidely. The other three seemed to be able to keep his attention. Orrick and Freda had called a truce over there minor doctrinal differences in order to form common cause against the infidel. I was going to have to discuss this with Bridget. It seemed the Administrator was taking on the aspects of a formal belief system, complete with competing dogma. Against that was a version of atheism that didn't as much pit science against religion as simply refused to go along. I wondered what Snidely's cosmology would look like, but having to talk to him would be too high a price to pay to find out.
We pulled into a town that Ted informed me was named Beetle Juice. No, I'm not kidding. Nor did I tweak the translator. It turned out this town's major industry was a form of liquor made from the excretions of some insect. First, blergh. Second, it made me wonder, not for the first time, if there was some form of sense of humor involved, either from the Skippies or from the software itself. I decided to let the translation stand, and assigned it to the beverage as well.
Beetle Juice was the last town on the Nirvana before the segment mountains. The captain would decide in the next day or two if we'd be continuing down river, or catching the transfer tributary to go back the other way. A lot would depend on what cargo we could get and where it would be the most valuable. It depended on paying passengers, too - if people were willing to pay to get to a particular destination, that would affect the captain's decision. Which made me wonder where Snidely was going. If we weren’t going in the right direction for him, then this would be goodbye. I tried to summon a tear. And failed miserably.
As we got closer, I could see that there was considerable activity at the docks, and it didn't seem to be all from the usual dock business. Four or five cargo ships were tied up while their crews had what appeared to be loud bellicose discussions with official-looking individuals wearing sashes and swords. I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. It seemed unlikely that this had anything to do with me, but by this point, any indication of cops made me as jumpy as a two-bit thief.
Captain Lisa hopped around on deck yelling orders at us, trying to maneuver the Hurricane into a tight space along the dock. This also involved a shouting match with the dock hands, which just added to the general holiday atmosphere. But eventually, we were at dock and tied up properly.
Ted and I grabbed the gangplank and started maneuvering it onto the dock. Before it had even settled a delegation of cops marched up the plank. Captain Lisa moved to intercept them.
“We are searching for a fugitive who
