Scott Warren (books)

MBGSP Chpt 31-34

Added 2024-07-04 14:07:03 +0000 UTC

Daily updates are devouring the story at a crazy rate, so I'm trying to keep ahead as best I can on the Patreon while still taking time to relax on my vacation!

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Chapter 31 - Reading Material

Back at the village, I started looking through the volumes that Rufus had left. The first was the iron harvesting guide. From its descriptions, it sounded like that we were in the right space and that bog would likely have unharvested iron deposits. But then, the book also said that the iron was fermented by the presence of ‘good humours’ in the water. I had to remind myself that this primitive world might have people who didn’t know what they were talking about. Still, I would need to get some goblins down there and figure out how to get the iron. The good news was that, thanks to the river feeding fresh iron into the bog, the iron was a renewable resource. The bad news was that it took about a generation to restore. And a human generation was about a hundred times longer than a goblin generation. Once we’d harvested all the iron and fired it into steel, we’d have to find a new source.

I needed steel. It was a necessity internal combustion, for space flight, for rocketry, and though I hated admitting we would need them, for firearms. At least, if I wanted the goblins to be properly equipped against larger-scale threats in Lanclova like the javeline and their own taskmasters. We still needed to do something about predators and nuisances in the bog. The tesla wasps and the croc-knocker were nigh-insurmountable problems for a species whose technology did not yet include things like nets or helmets that weren’t other people’s skulls.

The bestiary was, if anything, even more unscientific than the iron guide. At least, I hoped it was. It depicted four different species of dragon, six hostile wild cats, several creatures from Greek mythology, and had only a rumor on night haunts. It did mention the croc-knocker, the river monster, the javeline, and the stone-sloths.

Of goblins, it simply said “inedible and primitive. Best avoided.”

We were barely a footnote. It didn’t even mention our tongues or ears, which meant this publication must predate the dubious discovery of snorting goblins ears to raise elven banners. Or maybe those were just as unscientific as they sounded—this world’s equivalent to rhino horn and ginseng.

In the late afternoon I spent time helping Sally design a snare for the wranglers. It was basically a hollowed out wooden pole with a loop of cord, similar to what you’d see in an old-timey cartoon with a dog catcher. But enough of them looped around the throat of a night haunt should let the wranglers bring them down and finish them. After sawing a pole in half, we scraped out a hollow and fed the loop of cord through. Then we sealed the pole back together with resin and more cordage.

<Goblin Technology Unlocked: Hollow sticky-stringy snatcher>

<Goblin Component Technology Unlocked: Hollow-stickies>

<Goblin Component Technology Unlocked: Stringy snares>

A few minutes later, Chuck rode up the lift and jogged over, eyes wide. I held the prototype out for him, and he admired it, working the loop. I’d designed it with notches in the back and knots in the cordage, so that the loop could be pulled taught and set with the notches.

“Fantastic, boss! This’ll make roundin’ up more rides a breeze. Might even get one or two o’ those meat pens occupied.”

“That’s not all they’re for,” I said. I measured out the pole. It was half again as long as a hobgoblin. “Long enough to keep away from a night-haunt’s claws, yeah?”

Chuck grinned, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Tonight’s the night, then?”

“Make sure each of your wranglers has one ready.”

“Got it, boss!”

I wanted to make sure every wrangler had these tonight. We needed more night haunt hides. Especially since I’d crashed the first one.

Just after we finished that, Neil came back to the village with dire news.

“Fish at the bank ain’t bitin’,” he said. He held up the meager catch the fishermen had managed to take—which might feed a dozen goblins. On a day when half the hunters had been sent to retrieve javeline supplies and sulphur. That was problematic. Not only that, but I’d lost 5 goblins to attrition already, bringing the tribe’s total back down to 71.

“We might have overfished the river,” I said.

“Still fish,” said Neil. “Just deeper.”

Hmm… That wasn’t an impossible challenge. The solution was simple, really: boating. I should have created boats for the goblins right after I made fishing poles and lures. The fact that we, as a civilization, had invented gliders before boats was basically unheard of on Earth. But since goblins had no recourse against aquatic predators, I had wanted them safely on land. And since goblins had super-light bodies, it made them ideal pilots for unpowered flight. But gliders weren’t going to keep a growing population fed. Fishing was a staple until we could get livestock. To get livestock, I needed more wranglers. I already had Buzz’ crew building simple fenced paddocks at the base of the bluff for the wranglers to use, but so far they just contained some cliffords (who couldn’t climb or abide heights, according to Chuck) while the stone-sloth club still had its enclosure at the top of the bluff when the wranglers weren’t carrying it around and coddling it with bits of cooked meat.

“Alright. Bring me Sally.”

Neil motioned to one of his fishers, who bounded off in the direction of the engineering division.

I sat down to sketch out some designs on bark. By the time Sally came by, I had two designs for platform rafts with pontoons that would allow goblins to get to deeper water and be stable enough for several of them to fish off of. I also had an addition to one of the glider designs that got Sally extremely excited.

“Split your team, half and half. These are the priorities,” I said.

Sally took the drawings of the boat and pointed down and to the north. I nodded. “Yes, we’ll have to assemble these by the river. I’ll go down in the morning to do this personally. You work on these gliders. I want two of them ready to launch as soon as we have wing material. Do we have enough ceramic parts?”

Sally nodded enthusiastically, so I sent her off to decide which of her team would accompany me in the morning. We’d take some of Buzz’ construction crew, as well, to speed up the raw materials processing. Thinking about it, if I wanted the iron, I’d have to have them build an out-station to keep the iron-harvesters safe during the night, as well. The bog was far enough away that goblins couldn’t reasonable traverse the distance, work, and return home by nightfall. They also needed a way to deal with the predators in the bog. The high-level croc-knocker would probably devour goblins by the dozen if left unchecked.

Speaking of nightfall, it was almost sunset before the rest of Neil’s goblins returned with sulfur, food from the javeline stores, and canvas from their tents. The engineering crew worked tirelessly with what light remained while the hunters and wranglers enjoyed the windfall that came from having chased off the rutters.

Still, with the fishing growing more challenging and the tribe growing, I had to wonder how many more nights the tribe would go to bed with full bellies. I made sure every wrangler had a snatcher and an extra goblin who hadn’t fed to stay up and assist them. Though my stomach growled and twisted at the smell of roasting fish and actual bread, I held off. The night haunts were critical resources. Their ribs were even better than the stone-sloth claws for framing airfoils, and I wanted to make sure we didn’t end up losing half the wranglers trying to bring one down tonight.

Chapter 32 - Haunted

<Your tribe has reduced to 67 members>

“Keep behind me, boss,” whispered Chuck.

Above, I could see the twin yellow eyes circling high above, nestled in the dark, winged shadow silhouetted against Raphina’s open eye. In my hands, I clutched a slinger with the first of Neil’s poppers nestled in the sled and hoping for all the beans that it didn’t explode the instant I pulled the catch. Every goblin in the tribe had gone to sleep with dirt and moss stuffed in their ears so that the poppers and night haunt shrieks wouldn’t wake them and cause a panic. Goblins woken early didn’t produce more goblins, and right now warm bodies and a lack of variants was our biggest bottleneck as a tribe.

The last time I’d interrupted a night haunt during its night haunting, it had dealt me lethal damage three times, on top of killing several other goblins outright. When I thought about it, even though I couldn’t gain levels, the tribe itself was still something like my health bar in a video game, and went up as the tribe expanded. That was a very sociopathic view of the situation, but a potentially exploitable one. As much as I didn’t want to be responsible for the deaths of loyal goblin followers, the fact was I lost multiple goblins a day just due to them being goblins. Attrition and replacement was an in-baked element of their species.

The rambunctious, non-verbal basic goblins spent most of the day throwing themselves off cliffs, charging through the forest while screaming their heads off, experimenting with explosives and other weapons, and picking fights with things much larger and more ferocious than they were. From my initial survey of the other two bluffs, it seemed like tribes without kings had a poor survival rate—though my sample size was admittedly too small to be scientific.

What I’m saying was that even getting them pulling in the same direction had resulted in greater longevity and population for the goblins under my demesne. And in order to do so, I’d ironically had to send several to their deaths. Was it really any different if they died from me taking the hit? I’d tried to avoid it, but sacrificing a goblin here and there might mean 3 more birthed later, which would go on to birth 9 of their own. Logarithmic growth makes calculating the benefits over any length of time a little nutty. But we’d have to make hard decisions to survive any given length of time.

You might think it’s difficult to justify. Well, let me put it in perspective. There are two kinds of astronauts: those that become astronauts doing everything by the book, following every rule to perfection, and exemplifying the ideal person. And then there are those that do whatever it takes to get what they want, and let no obstacle or shortcoming stand in their way. I was going into space without legs, so I’ll let you do the calculus on which set I fall into.

“Easy lads, ‘ere he comes,”

I squeezed my slinger tight, watching as the dark silhouette slowly spiraled down to the village. It was nearly silent on those wide wings. Its shape against the moon triggered fears rooted deep in the goblin parts of my brain. Being outside when these things were in the sky was not a survival trait for this species. Not yet, anyway.

The thing came in for a glide, finally stretching out its talons and lighting upon one of the shelters with barely a whisper, despite its size. And it was a big one. Level 14, as the System labeled it. It looked around, swinging its beaked muzzle to make sure it hadn’t been noticed landing on the clay roof tiles—but we were well-concealed. Then it put its eye to the roof, looking for cracks and weaknesses as it shimmied around on narrow claws. Finding none, it went to the edge of the roof and found the new shelter we’d laid out.

Ten goblins slept in a dome woven from flexible branches, blessedly unaware of the predator among the village. The night haunt jumped down from the roof of the shelter and padded toward the dome. It could see the goblins sleeping inside through the loose weave, but the lattice of the shelter was too tight to get its claw through. The tips of its talons came just shy of the nearest goblin’s shirt. Frustrated, it began to climb the shelter, towards one of several circular openings in the lattice wall that looked just large enough to allow a night haunt’s arm and shoulder.

What the night haunt didn’t realize was that the inside of the hollow was a trap of flint chips on a concave funnel. When it tried to pull its claw back out, it ran afoul of the one-way opening. It tried to pull back, then screeched in pain, and seemed to realize what had happened.

“Now!” shouted Chuck. He and the other wranglers jumped out from where they hid behind the materials stockpiles. Three goblins erupted from the bone pile with slingers of their own. Two of the ‘sleeping’ goblins inside the dome stood up and grabbed spears concealed in the bedding.

The night haunt howled, enraged. It was smart enough to know it had been tricked, and smart enough to realize what a precarious position it found itself in. It stopped trying to free its hand as the goblins inside the dome started to thrust their spears through the lattice. But that was just a diversion.

Chuck and his wranglers moved forward with the pole snatchers, loops extended. The night haunt still had back talons that were more than sufficient to disembowel a goblin, and a muscled tail that would crack bones every bit as well as their jaws. It lashed back and forth, lifting one of the wranglers off his feet and tossing him careening through the bone pile.

I kept my slinger trained but held off on the release lest the explosive go through the lattice and into the sleeping mound. I also kept my eye on the sky in case the terrified shrieks of the night haunt called any of its buddies down for the assist. It was tough to tell, but one of them might have descended some.

One of the wranglers darted forward and managed to get his loop around the back claw of the night haunt, digging in his heels and pulling against the beast. That put pressure on its trapped arm, and it shrieked and kicked, trying to pull away. It only had one avenue of escape, and it was one I hadn’t considered.

With beak and claws, the night haunt tore open the trap wide enough to get his entire body through, although not without taking a dozen small wounds on the branches and flint. Its heavy body thumped to the floor, twisting the creature as the snatcher pole hit a fulcrum. The thing about night haunts is that they weigh substantially more than even a hobgoblin. So the one that refused to let go of the pole soon found himself airborne, flying over the enclosure as the pole snapped.

He never hit the ground. A second night haunt snatched the unfortunate wrangler out of the air with its back talons and disappeared over the edge of the bluff.

<Your tribe has decreased to 66>

Damn! The cavalry had arrived. Spears and snatchers turned skyward as swooping shadows swung low over the village. Chuck managed to jump and get his snatcher around the neck of a haunt, bearing it to the ground with the help of another goblin. His remaining wranglers moved in with their own snatchers. But two of the regular goblins were picked up and carried off by winged shadows.

<Your tribe has decreased to 65>

Not only that, but the night haunt inside the lattice dome had become enraged, and the once-safe spearmen inside were now the entire subject of its attention. It pounced, rebuffed only by the ceramic tips, and climbed up the inside of the dome for another attack.

“Gunners to the dome!” I shouted. I hefted the slinger and ran to the lattice, angling my lathes to make sure the projectile went through a gap and didn’t explode in my face. I pulled the catch and the lathes snapped back into place, launching the sticky-icky jar directly above the night haunt. It burst against the roof of the dome with a pop right where the creature had been holding on. It lost its grip and fell directly on the sleeping pile, scattering the mound of diminutive creatures.

Other slingers thrummed, and the pop pop of icky-sicky bombs which left behind an after-odor somewhere between an outhouse and the Fourth of July. Rudely awakened goblins were tossed against the inner walls of the dome by the concussions and woke enough to see what was in the dome with them. And then they went from zero to panic without hitting a setting inbetween.

As one, ten goblins ran for weapons stashed inside the dome. The night haunt, maybe triggered by retreating prey, maybe more than a little concussed itself, pounced unsteadily, stumbling and crushing two goblins against the wall of the dome—not enough to kill them, but I could see their squishy goblin faces deforming through the weave as though their skulls were rubber. More yet picked up spears and cleavers.

I reached into my bag for another icky-sicky jar and stuffed it into my sled, working the lever to reset the catch. Goblins inside the dome had a small thicket of spears pointed at the night-haunt now, standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Shoving the end of the slinger up to the lattice, I called out again.

“Volley two!”

Pop, pop, pop!

<Your tribe has decreased to 64 members.>

Unfortunately, one of the slinger goblins had made the mistake I’d taken pains to avoid. His jar smashed straight into the lattice and blew up in his face, sending the goblin flying and setting the lattice on fire as the thick, burning putty coated it. It splashed over one of the unfortunate spearmen in the dome, as well, who dropped his spear and panicked as his fur started to smolder.

Behind me, the night haunt the wranglers were tangling with yowled. I risked a glance to see that two of its limbs were caught and Chuck was atop it, driving a spear down into its back. A lot of its blood was on the ground, but the wranglers on the snatchers were pulling as hard as they could to make sure it couldn’t find any purchase to fight back.

More of the cage started to burn, and I whistled for attention from all the goblins not already fighting the howler with the wranglers.

“To me!” I shouted. I still had ten panicking goblins in a structure that was now at risk of burning down. I put my back against the dome, gripped the lattice, and lifted as hard as I could. Prosthetic legs aren’t really built for lifting heavy loads, though, and they started to slip out from under me. Luckily, the rest of the goblins rushed to my side and combined what meager muscles they had into hoisting up one edge of the shelter high enough for the goblins inside to scramble out.

Within a few moments, all that was left inside were two goblins with spears and the night haunt, who saw the small opening we’d made. It darted toward the lifted wall and I made the decision.

“Drop it!” I shouted.

The edge of the shelter thumped back into the dirt just as the night haunt’s front claws raked at the base, scrabbling to get under and get out. Several goblins thrust spears through, dissuading the beast, who finally turned, coughing and sputtering from smoke, and dashed toward a different side. The goblins raced around to continue keeping it away from the wall, and the wranglers joined in as well with longer spears.

Finally, the night haunt abandoned its goal, and turned its attention at the two goblins still trapped with it. I turned away as it pounced, intent on getting its last meal before the execution. Even while choking and dying from the smoke and small, myriad wounds inflicted by the spearpoints the goblins were thrusting back through the lattice, it persisted. They are nothing if not spiteful creatures, it seems.

<Your tribe has decreased to 62 members>

Chapter 33 - Deeper Waters

<2 Hobgoblin scrappers have been added to your tribe>

<1 Hobgoblin wrangler has been added to your tribe>

<1 Goblin taskmaster has been added to your tribe>

<Your tribe has increased to 75 members>

I could still smell the smoke when I woke up. The survivors of the night before had tucked in immediately to the night haunt the wranglers had brought down in order to not miss out on enough sleep to put us in a stupor the following day. I couldn’t afford to waste the day.

Luckily, I seemed to have gotten a good roll on the new goblin births overnight. 13 new goblins off of 5 sleeping mounds was, as far as I could tell, near the max possible. That was good. We needed a real win after the previous night’s quite literal pyrrhic victory.

Buzz was up early, as was his usual. His crew was clearing away the remains of the cage and hauling the second dead night haunt over to the tannery to be processed. He waved me down, and I headed over. His entire crew were now wearing gloves, which they’d stitched from left-over small hides the hunters had brought back.

“Didn’t go quite as planned, eh, boss?”

I looked at the ash trails. “Not quite. But your trap worked great. Think you can rig up another?”

Buzz pulled a scrap of bark from his trouser with a nub of wrapped charcoal in it. “Have one done by nightfall with six o’ the lads bangin’ it out.”

“Good, I’m going to get a few more under your team. I want that other project started today, as well. Like I showed you in the book.”

Buzz nodded excitedly. “The lads are on it, boss. Trust. Be up to your specs. Other priorities?”

We were interrupted by a loud whoosh accompanied by a scream. I looked over at the spiraling smoke trail and the goblin who almost managed to hold on to his booster.

“Houston, successful stage-1 separation,” I said as the goblin lost his grip and fell somewhere in the forest to the west. “That one wasted no time. I need to invent locks so we can lock up the sulfur.”

“Sounds like a Sally job. Wot about my boys?”

“Fuel,” I said.

Buzz’ eyes slid over to the scat mound.

“Fire fuel. I want to run up the kiln again soon. We’re going to need a few things to start getting iron out of that bog.”

“Chuck wants more space on the west side. We’ll pull timber from there”

I slapped Buzz on his shoulder. He dashed off to relay the news to his crew. While he did that, I pulled up the system menu and assigned half the fresh goblins to his team, and half to Neil’s hunters. Sally’s team suffered the fewest attrition, since they rarely left the bluff, so I kept her with the same roster. Though, they did have a tendency for projects to explode in their faces. I gave her 1 extra.

The new taskmaster found me while I was sifting through the new arrivals to see which of the new arrivals were best suited for which teams. She dashed up, skidded to a halt, and stood stock rigid like a soldier.

“Sir! Ready and able to tackle any and all challenges!”

I’d already looked at her skills in the System, so I knew what she was good at. I dismissed the window and looked at my newest taskmaster.

“Eileen. You ready to fly a test flight?”

Eileen practically vibrated with anticipation. She had high stats for agility, perception, and mechanical operation—which was a trait I hadn’t yet seen. It must have been a side benefit of starting to unlock various simple machines on the Goblin Tech Tree. So, any goblins I put under her should get a bonus to operating machines as well. “Always, sir!”

I pushed off my chair and folded my hands behind the small of my back, strutting like a general. “I’m putting you in charge of the tribe’s air delivery wing. Assemble your crew and report to the east launcher at mid-day. Until then, help Sally with her preparations. She’ll brief you on the plan.” I stopped pacing and considered what I’d just said. I wondered if Sally was more talkative around the other taskmasters. If not, the brief would be very brief.

Eileen saluted and dashed off.

I’d have loved to stay and help with that project, but I had boats to build. Neil had all his hunters staged on the north side of the bluff with sets of tools, bones, in addition to their usual assortment of slingers, spears, and cleavers. Two of his group also hoisted one of the ceramic impellers that we used to force air through the furnace.

Everyone threw themselves down the slope except for the ones lugging ceramics, which I made sure took the lift down. It wouldn’t do to have the whole ensemble shatter before we even got it to the river. I still wasn’t keen on the vertical approach to travel. I took two of Sally’s engineers and two of Buzz’ builders over and loaded into the flex-a-pult with a handful of the rare mini-gliders to start getting everything we needed prepped.

Neil’s hunters split off to look for game, but he accompanied me to the river with the fishers. The goblins buzz-cut their trail, criss-crossing previous trails until we hit the bank of the river. It still mesmerized me how a collective group of goblins almost moved more like a swarm of insects than a pack of intelligent creatures. The area northeast of the bluff toward the old stone-sloth den and clay deposit had been criss-cut so many times it looked a bit like a checkerboard. It was, by far, our most trafficked area outside of the bluff itself.

We came to a slow bend in the river where a few of Buzz’ goblins were already cutting logs to size and Sally’s engineers were weaving cordage from vines. Some of the fishers went to trawl the banks for small fries while I set the rest to task shaping structural poles into a platform and lashed them together. We started to make a shallow-draft boat according to my sketches, with a pair of pontoons that would hopefully keep it stable enough that excitable goblins wouldn’t capsize the whole thing at the earliest opportunity. The space between the wood was packed with pitch and chewed bark on the outside, while the inside got another layer of sap and then the canvas from one of the javeline tents. I had another pole mounted on bearings, to which I added the impeller and crank assembly near the back. And on the forward end of the boat, I added a second column, with a long crossbeam and ceramic winch assembly to pull a flexible pole under load and secured it with the crossbeam.

We were losing daylight, but Neil informed me that the best fishing was during the daily eclipse anyway. The javeline rations (and the javeline themselves) were a nice one-time windfall, but I had to make sure I could keep the tribe fed when the night haunt haunches ran out—which they would. I had them smoking over the coals with some salt, but they’d last the tribe two, three days at max. And my hope was that having killed two of them, the rest would be more reluctant to attack the village.

Just as the sun slipped behind Raphina, we carried the boat to the water and pushed it down the muddy bank into the river bend.

It sank immediately.

“Well, that’s disappointing,” I said. At least the technology had been unlocked. I sent two goblins wading into the shallows to retrieve the ceramic parts we couldn’t easily replace.

It took us a couple extra hours to rig up a second one, and this time Sally’s engineers made multiple adjustments. This time, when we pushed the assembled craft into the water, it wobbled, but didn’t sink.

Neil’s fishers looked at each other excitedly and re-doubled their pushing. I had to take a running jump in order to make sure I actually got on board. And let me tell you, stone-sloth claws are not meant for walking on the uneven surface of a wooden boat. The fact this thing was water-tight at all was nothing short of a miracle of Goblin Tech Tree engineering.

Several of the goblins helped me to my feet, including Neil. Others had already set trawling lines or were rigging bait to poles. Two more clambered onto the impeller cranks that I’d set up like bikes using the chains that had once bound my wrists. They started pumping away with their little legs and the water at the back of the boat churned. I had to stumble over and grab the steering ring to get them spun around to the right direction before they could ground us on the bank.

Rather than forcing air through the impeller, they were forcing water. It was much less practical than a direct-drive propeller, but it was smoother and caused less chop in the water, which I figured would be better for a fishing vessel and less likely to tangle in the river weeds. As soon as we got to the deepest part of the river bend, I had the goblins hop off the impeller cranks and help me kick a bundle of rocks over the side to serve as our anchor. We drifted a bit with the current, but the line drew taut and I looped it around a cleat.

Two of the fishing teams got quick bites and pulled in their fish. Both of them needed extra help wrangling the bigger deep-water catches on board. I nodded to myself as I watched. By any measure, it wasn’t an impressive vessel. It would have struggled to keep three or four humans afloat. But it easily held more than a dozen goblins. And it was just the first (sorry, second) prototype. I had no doubt the fishers would iterate and improve the design, as well as work on things that hadn’t even occurred to me. This was overdue. If everything hadn’t been such an emergency since I’d been reborn, this would have been much earlier on my to-do list. But it would become an emergency soon enough if I put it off any longer.

“Boss,” said Neil, from the aft end of the boat. I walked over and joined him. He pointed to the water about thirty meters back from where we trawled. It was about as long as three goblins laid head to feet, and several fish were leaping out of the water ahead of it.

River monster.

The bestiary had sketches of multiple aquatic predators. The one specific to rivers and moving waterways that preyed on humanoids was an amphibious predator that looked like a cross between a salamander and a barracuda, long and lithe with powerful jaws, a long, finned tail, and a set of stubby limbs. It veered away from the boat, for the time being, and Neil relaxed.

I walked up to the forecastle of the boat and kicked off a special bundle that included chunks of javeline offal that even the goblins hadn’t wanted to eat. Then, I sat back to cast my pole along with the rest of the fishers for an hour or two of just casting and pulling while I listened to the river and the bugs and the birds, and for some reason the occasional explosion. Being back on the water was almost as good as being back in the air. And really, this is what reincarnation should have been about: sailing and soaring and working on engineering projects. Not getting stabbed by pig-men and fighting for my life against beaked bat monsters to protect a tribe of creatures that spent the time they weren’t actively getting murdered finding creative ways to get themselves killed.

One of Neil’s fishers hooted and yanked in his pole, aided by his partner. A sizable fish flipped out of the water and smacked another fisher in the face. The three of them fell in a tangle of punches and bites and ended up tying themselves in a knot with the fishing line.

If I couldn’t protect these guys, I’d never walk on the moon. So, even if I hadn’t grown attached, they were worth every squawk, squabble, and scrap.

The sound of cliffords barking drew my attention to the riverbank. Chuck and a few of his wranglers bounded through the trees, pulling up just shy of the water. He stood up in the saddle and shaded his eyes. “Boss-man, you over there?”

I put my foot on the gunwale and cupped my hands. “Yeah, I’m here!”

“Sally says she’s almost ready. Wanted me to come bring you back.”

I whistled and pointed to the impeller cranks. Two of the goblins not currently casting bounded over and clamored up on the assembly and began pumping. A few others helped me reel in the anchor. We started to move, and I twisted the ring to get the impeller pushing us toward the bank.

“Boss, this one’s stuck,” said Neil, from over by the bow.

I looked over as he tugged on the line. “Careful with that one, it’s loaded to the…”

The line thrashed in the water, nearly pulling Neil overboard. Two goblins dove over and grabbed his feet, keeping him from dropping into the drink as the boat dipped toward the bow.

The thick cord drew a perfect line to a dark shadow writhing beneath the surface.

The river monster had returned.

Chapter 34 - Flexible Fishing

The impeller came completely out of the water, goblins tumbling off the crank assembly and rolling toward the bow. Several goblins hoisted spears and ran to the front of the ship. But that just made the list worse as we started to move on the line.

“No, no! To the stern! The stern!” I shouted.

Several goblins threw spears at the thrashing shadow in the water. But enough listened to my orders that we got the back of the trawler back in the water and I started working the impeller myself, cranking as hard as my little goblin legs could. Neil joined me, and I reached out and turned the ring with one foot, angling the vector of thrust to keep us steady in the water.

The river monster pulled against the line, and wood creaked. My feet were wet in the bilges from where the bow had dipped so low it started to let water in.

“Boss!” shouted Chuck from the shore, pacing his clifford back and forth. “I think you got somethin’!”

“Ya think?” I muttered. Another goblin came up, and I traded places with him and stumbled my way to the bow. In the water, the river monster had swallowed the offal bait, helpless to the siren song of javeline tripe. It gnawed and clawed at the line. But I still hadn’t forgiven it for the goblin it had dragged off. I locked eyes with it as I gripped the lever built into the forward assembly and yanked.

The retaining bar on the flex-a-pult built into the bow of the ship slipped out of its bracket, and the pole under tension snapped taut, yanking the river beast out on a perfect parabolic arc. It soared above the staring goblins and had just enough line to strike the rocks on the shore. hard.

Angular momentum is a bitch. The back 2/3rds of the river monster turned to instant puree with a sound like a gunshot, splashing fish guts over everything within five meters—which included the wranglers and their cliffords. The dogs leapt back, yelping in surprise and fear at the noise and sudden movement. And then leapt back in as they realized lunch was served. The wranglers tried to rein them in, but eventually just dismounted and joined in before the dogs ate all the best bits.

The front third of the river monster still gripped the offal bait with teeth and claws. It had held on better than the goblin rocket jockey from earlier that morning. It had a shocked expression on its face—which, I suppose I’d be surprised too if I’d suddenly accelerated at 20+ G’s and come to a terminal stop on sharp river rocks.

“Wicked,” said Neil, surveying the damage as the boat drew closer to shore. “Lunch is on, lads!” he shouted. “Truss some up to take back!

The goblins all abandoned the boat in a frenzy of blue fur and flashing teeth, reducing the few recognizable parts of the salamander in a few minutes, stuffing their faces with some and wrapping the rest in leaves and stowing it in baskets for the evening meal.

I watched the carnage, shaking my head. “They’ll be useless all afternoon,” I said.

“Waste not,” said Neil. Not one to mince words, but definitely one for mincemeat. I clambered up on Chuck’s clifford, which only growled at me this time. Chuck finished chewing what I think was half a liver and swung back up into the saddle. He offered me… I’m not up on my fish organs. But my stomach growled. I sighed and took it. When in Lanclova.

We wheeled around and bounded south back toward the bluff. I heard another shwoosh…. POP! and looked up to see a starburst in the sky at the end of a spiraling rocket trail. I wondered if this goblin had remembered to let go.

Guess not. I shook my head. Definitely needed access control on the sulfur. With how much goblins enjoyed a free launch, I felt like about two thirds of the tribe would willingly go full Major Kong and ride a rocket all the way to the big goblin graveyard in the sky. Then again, with what I had planned for the rest of the day… well, you’ll see.

We reached the bluff just as a load of bricks was going up the lift. Chuck ground to a halt so suddenly I tumbled over him and my leg caught in the netting. Chuck leapt from the back of the clifford and latched onto the net next to me.

“You’re not slated to go on this run,” I said, confused.

He barked a laugh. “You think I’m going to let you out of my sight on this thing? I’m launching right after you. Besides, you owed me a glider.”

“That I did!” I gave him an upside-down salute as the goblin counterweights passed me headed the other direction. Truth told; I was glad for his presence. Of all the verbal goblins, Chuck was the one I trusted the most. The hobgoblin was capable, clever, and hard-working. His crew had rescued me, brought down a night haunt on their own, and now he would be watching my back. Once up, I waited for the minders to hook the load and pull us over onto the bluff before dusting myself off.

Most of the tribe still on the bluff was gathered around the eastern rails, where I’d launched the glider from the greased rails to go explore the other bluffs. Sally had the prototype heavy glider mounted up, and Eileen waved at me from the front where she was strapped in. Six of Sally’s engineers were attaching long, wooden devices to the underside of the glider just outside the rails.

“Just in time, boss! You want to take the reins for this one?” asked Eileen. She’d adopted a skull mask of just the orbital bones and a rough hide cap, which made the bones look a lot like a pair of old-timey flight goggles without the lenses.

“Nope!” I said. I moved over and climbed to the netting on the glider. “I need to make sure you can function without my micromanagement. I’m just here for the in-flight movie.

“Good, I’d have fought you.”

“You’d have fought your king?”

“And won!” She reached over and grabbed a pair of semaphore flags made out of two colors of fur. “Preflight checks!” she shouted. Her crew assembled and took their places as she hoisted flags and watched their responses. Satisfied, she called out “Passengers aboard!”

Almost a dozen goblins climbed aboard, including one of the two new scrappers. Each of the goblins had a basket strapped to their back like a parachute. I joined and fixed myself in place with the available cord.

“Safety disengaged!” Eileen shouted.

I looked around for Sally. “You included a safety?” I asked.

She lifted one hand and wiggled it about. Sort of. One of her goblins unhooked a rope from the rear of the glider. Two more approached with hot coals. I tightened my grip on the frame. Just like the first time I’d flown, I started to feel an invisible pressure that I’d come to recognize as the System’s direct attention. I’m not sure why it was so interested in flying, as compared to hunting or fishing or whatever any of the civilized peoples of Rava were doing. But then, from what Rufus had said, no one on the planet was doing anything as interesting as experimenting with flying machines—not that he’d seen, anyway.

“Begin launch sequence! Step 1!” shouted Eileen.

The two engineers held the coals to the ends of the rockets. One of them didn’t get out of the way fast enough as its motor caught and started to burn. The goblin went up in a bright burst of glowing blue fur.

The other motor caught as well, and the flames became a torrent that lurched us forward. Two of the passengers lost their grip and fell off the back of the glider, which solved my concern about adding my weight to the flight. I held on for dear life as the roar mounted and we slid along the wooden rails towards the ramp, teeth chattering from the vibration. This takeoff was going to be at a much higher speed than my first flight with the glider. The aircraft rattled so bad I thought it might come apart in the violence.

But then we were off the rails, into the afternoon sky, and still accelerating on the icky-sicky rockets.

“What’s step 2?” I shouted over the rush-roar of the rockets.

“There is no step 2!” Eileen shouted back.