The Lotus Eaters

Puerto Lindo, Balboa, Terra Nova

"Engage the clicker," Chu ordered, from his post in the sail. Almost immediately a small box mounted to the hull began emitting a regular clickclickclick, simulating a slight irregularity in a jet propulsor, badly insulated from the escape of sound. It sounded exactly like what one might expect of an inherently complex naval system, built in—and to the usual standards of—the undeveloped or semi-developed parts of the planet. The sound from the clicker was faint. Chu could only just hear it, and then only if he concentrated.

"Take us out."

There was a slight disturbance in the water around the sub's bow, and a marginally more noticeable one aft. The boat eased itself forward, very slowly and aimed directly at the gate. In a control room overlooking the interior of the pen, one of the sailors pressed a button. Immediately, the armored gate—it was as well armored as the rear portal over the rail lines—began sliding open with the expected deluge of sound. Chu's Meg passed through the open gate and made its way toward the middle of the bay.

About two thirds of the way to the middle the captain ordered, "Course one-eight-seven. Take us past the island." The boat began a slow veer to port.

* * *

There was a single trixie, bright green and red quasi-feathers clear against the blue sky, circling the tree-crowned island as it passed astern to the left. Almost immediately, the waves, which had been practically non-existent, grew to a height of a couple of feet. A medium yacht would have noticed them; on the Meg they had no real effect.

A small yacht, its passengers engaged in fishing just at the mouth of the bay, sheltered behind the small island, saw the sail of the Meg pass by about half a mile away. The passengers, sport fisherman from the Federated States, to all appearances, waved at Chu, which wave he returned.

Chu then disappeared into the hull of the Meg. A few minutes later, the sail began to sink into the waves.