The Errant Tree

The Sea of Serenity

The sea churns. The wind whips at Oskar until his nose numbs and his ears ache, but still he keeps his eyes wide and fixed to the horizon astern of his tiny ship. Likewise, his tiny crew keeps their frozen, blistered hands glued to their oars. They row hard, grunting with every effort, and Oskar hopes they're grateful the exhausting work at least keeps them warm.

Without his consent, Oskar's body has conformed to the rhythm of the strokes; he exhales with the whoosh of the paddles against the frigid waves, and his heart beats the measures in between. Though it maddens him, he has counted every stroke since they pushed off from Haemus Isle nearly two hours ago:

Three-three-nine-one. Three-three-nine-two. Three-three-nine-three.

At least they're traveling fast: twelve knots, he estimates, without a sail.

"I can see home!" Tall Kelly cries from the bow.

Oskar feels a pang of guilt; he has deceived his crew into thinking that Penn's Isle, the feeble islet to which they are now fleeing, will become their new home-a safe-haven from their pursuers where they can found a settlement of their own. Oskar, however, knows that will not be the case. But he must not think about that now.

"Keep going!" he commands, barely turning his head. "We're close, but we're not there, yet!"

"We'll make it!" Tall Kelly yells back.

She's overeager to be out of danger, and Oskar cannot blame her; she knows the prowess of those from whom they've stolen. Yet mere kilometers from safety, there are no sails on the horizon, no sign of pursuit, nothing to break the skein of shifting, gray hills of water. Oskar reaches across his chest to feel that the leather pack is still slung over his shoulder. His fingers feel that the knot of the drawstring is still tied fast. His mind wanders to the precious cargo within.

Four-oh-nine-nine. Four-one-oh-oh.

Moment by moment, the count feels less like the ticking away of his life and more like a point scored in a game he's nearly won. Get to five-thousand strokes and it's over. Five-thousand and he will have pulled off the greatest heist of his time. And perhaps, if he is lucky, Tall Kelly and the rest of the crew will never learn of his betrayal.

"o kute, I hear something!" Dana, one of the people at the oars, calls out. "It's a vehicle!"

It is the rhythmic whirring of propellers, Oskar realizes: the sound of a helicopter.

"It's the Lunar Guard!" Tall Kelly cries, pointing ahead. "They're heading right for us!"

Oskar sees the helicopter and, careful not to show it, breathes a sigh of relief.

Thank god, he thinks.

True, in the minds of his crew, the Lunar Guard is just as much a threat as the others from whom they've been fleeing. But the Lunar Guard is civilized; capture by them means detention, deportation, at worst incarceration. Capture by the Knights Errant, on the other hand...

But none of that matters now. The Lunar Guard will, as per the agreement, take possession of the contents of Oskar's pack, and then he will be relocated to one of the more successful lunar colonies: the English-speaking island-state of Selenia, perhaps, or the Chinese-speaking crater-city of Shajiang. Perhaps they will even permit Tall Kelly to come with him, if she agrees. They could have a family together, and a real home, and be happy and free. Free of Haemus Isle. Free of the Lunar Guard. Free of the Knights Errant. Free of the Arbormind.

But as Oskar gazes at the approaching aerial vehicle, his reverie is disturbed by a question: Why has the Lunar Guard dispatched to intercept them at sea, when the plan was to wait for them on the shore of Penn's Isle? It is there that they were supposed be arrested and searched, the all-important item in Oskar's bag confiscated, and the lot of them whisked away to Conon Neck Base for questioning. Why has the plan changed? Is there something the Lunar Guard knows that Oskar does not?