Balance of Power

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Brian Stableford. Balance of Power

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CHAPTER ONE

Night fell swiftly, darkness consuming the sky as the sun’s vestigial halo faded in the west. One of the crewmen moved slowly around the deck, lighting the lamps which hung head-high on the masts and the roof of the fo’c’sle. Lamps were lit in the cabins, too, and they cast weak orange beams from the portholes to catch the sheen on the long trailers of weed that bobbed in the bow-waves of the ship.

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There was a constant chatter which—though most of it was made by the birds and other flying creatures—could by no means be described as “song.” It was all clicks and rattles, clucks and croaks, with only the occasional half-strangled whistle.

The distribution of the trees was highly irregular—they tended to grow in clumps and thickets, with clearings between where the space might be enjoyed either by waist-high bushes and cane-breaks or by moist sand which looked rather ominous. The crew needed no warnings about not wandering too freely—they showed little inclination to move more than a few yards away from the firm outer rim of the mud bar. There were occasional trees that grew very much taller than the rest, spreading their crowns magnificently and creating oases of shade where grew plants of different character—fleshy things and lichenous crusts.

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