Chapter 748 – Party at Sea (Part 3)

Qian Duoduo now served as navigator, with Li Quan acting as her runner—loudly relaying measurement requests to whichever adult was playing lookout, then reporting the readings back. The young girl was less self-conscious than the adults; at first she had been too timid to shout orders at figures the locals regarded with such awe, but after being repeatedly assured that this was her duty, she gradually relaxed. Before long it seemed as though she were the one commanding the entire ship.

"Report the angle to the battery flagpole," Qian Duoduo called out, bent over the chart spread across the helm console.

"Starboard, report the angle to the battery flagpole!" Li Quan shouted.

"Starboard reporting! Battery flagpole bearing two-two-one point four degrees!" Zheng Shangjie announced, holding a digital survey compass. Through the telescope she aligned the target with the center line in the eyepiece, pressed the measurement button, and read the figure off the LCD display. The compass used true north as zero, with a full 360-degree scale.

Upon hearing the relayed reading, Qian Duoduo drew a long, thin line from the battery's position on the chart. She then requested bearings on the Customs House and the Fengcheng. With bearings on two reference points, the yacht's current position could be fixed on the chart; a third reference point served to verify accuracy. If all three bearings were taken swiftly and precisely, the lines would converge at a single point; otherwise, they formed a triangular error zone.

After some practice, both speed and accuracy improved. Qian Duoduo continually erased the extra pencil lines, leaving only marked fixes and the ship's track. From time to time she glanced at the telltale streaming from the masthead, asked the captain for the heading, then instructed everyone whether to hold course, change heading, or tack. After sailing downwind for a while, Qian Shuiting suggested they come about and practice working to windward. He soon regretted it—Qian Duoduo dramatically increased the frequency of sail changes, keeping the deckhands constantly busy. This posed little trouble for Beiwei and Xue Ziliang, but Qian Shuiting, a man accustomed to office work, found even his much-improved post-transmigration physique struggling to keep up. First he swapped places with Qian Shuixie; then he had Zhou Weisen coach the two girls to reduce the number of tacks. Excessive sail changes cost the vessel momentum and kept it crawling at low speed, so mastering heading and timing when working to windward was a key measure of a captain and navigator's experience.

Beiwei was keenly interested in the handling of this kind of sailboat. As commander of the special forces, what caught his attention was not the battleship or cruiser but small craft capable of operating in a variety of coastal waters—boats suited to transporting and screening infiltration teams. In his view, the Feiyun was agile and well-designed, and above all easy to sail. If it could be replicated, it would make an excellent platform for coastal infiltration and combat operations. As he handled the sails, he paid close attention to every navigation and helm command, watched Zhou Weisen's steering technique, and asked about anything he didn't understand.

"We ought to teach these skills to the recon troopers," Beiwei said, mopping his brow with a towel. "Boat handling would be a useful skill for scouts."

"We may not be able to build an air squadron in the next ten years, but at least we could put together a boat squadron," Chen Sigen remarked, sipping his juice. Since he didn't plan to shoot, he had mixed rum into his drink. "Vinny, don't you know how to handle a boat too?"

Xue Ziliang was currently lavishing attention on Salina. Having spent months consumed by the counter-insurgency campaign, he had effectively neglected her the entire time. Now that he was finally back, he intended to make up for lost time—and get her into bed.

At the question, he replied perfunctorily, "I only know how to handle motorboats or kayaks. I'm no good with sailboats." Then he returned to his conversation with Salina.

"Qian Shuixie can handle boats as well. Have him give everyone some lessons," Qian Shuiting said, quickly promoting his younger brother.

"Sure, though he's currently squad leader in Sanya," Beiwei mused. "Let's get a few small sailboats and start training there. The sea-training conditions are better in Sanya."

Lin Chuanqing spoke up. "It would be better to use these digital instruments sparingly—they're idiot-proof enough, but who knows how long they'll last. We ought to develop old-fashioned gear. It's more tedious, sure, but at least it can be repaired and manufactured. During those first days after D-Day I really struggled—I was so used to radar and navigation instruments. All of a sudden having to calculate everything by hand made my head spin."

As he spoke, he was filleting fresh fish and lobster on the prep table, arranging sashimi on a large platter. Wu Nanhai grew a small quantity of horseradish at the farm, so wasabi and soy sauce were available. On the barbecue grill, oysters and whole fish roasted as Lin Shenhe periodically sprinkled spices over them, releasing wave after wave of mouthwatering aroma. Shi Niaoren had already started eating.

The group soon fell into a lively discussion about equipment. To this day, the transmigrator collective had an utter blank when it came to precision-instrument manufacturing. Although a standard metrology workshop had been established to produce various measuring tools, precision instruments—telescopes, vernier calipers, sextants, and the like—still drew entirely on old-time-space stock.

"The precision-instrument bottleneck won't be easy to break through," Shi Niaoren observed, eating charcoal-grilled oysters and sipping rum mixed with fruit-juice soda. "The Planning Commission has a blueprint, but so far there's been no investment. Dedicated fabrication equipment is still nowhere to be found. If anything we have now even remotely approaches precision instruments, it's probably the surgical tools made by the Pharmaceutical Equipment Plant—and those are barely passable."

"At the post-operation review meetings after the Second Counter-Encirclement Campaign and the Pearl River Punitive Expedition, the issue of issuing binoculars to officers was raised. Any idea if that's on the agenda?"

"Given the Executive Committee's working pace, it'll be a miracle if they remember by next summer."

"Actually, the Executive Committee's efficiency is quite high—they're just fundamentally a pack of bureaucrats. They're especially fond of procedures." Shi Niaoren, whose unique position brought him into frequent contact with senior Committee members, was familiar with their thinking. "Chairman Wen runs a Western-European-style bureaucracy; the Director operates a socialist bureaucracy."

"Bureaucratism doesn't distinguish between socialist and capitalist," Lin Shenhe remarked. He was careful not to engage in specific criticism. "As for optical instruments, someone in the Technology Division is preparing to make a start. He's a relative of mine, actually. I hear they'll begin with reading glasses."

"To get a few lenses, doesn't the Medical Division have an automatic computer-controlled grinder and resin blanks?"

Lin Shenhe sprinkled black pepper and chopped scallions onto an oyster, speared it with a fork, blew on it, and popped it into his mouth. "Those are for transmigrators. How many people can actually enjoy them? And what happens when the grinder breaks down?"

"Reading glasses could also be a trade-growth driver. Reading glasses and myopia glasses both have a market; we could even sell 'magic mirrors.'"

"There were people who knew how to grind lenses in the Ming Dynasty. They had all those things," Shi Niaoren said, cracking open a raw oyster, squeezing lemon juice onto it, and swallowing it whole. "But Ming artisans didn't have glass; they used top-quality crystal."

"How wasteful. Grab a few of those craftsmen to work for us."

"Even if they were willing to come, I wouldn't dare employ them. Their craftsmanship is probably fine, but they haven't the slightest concept of diopters."

"I hear the spectacle trade is based in Nanjing. No idea if that's true."

The group chatted casually, and before long they had demolished an entire basket of oysters. Under normal circumstances, oyster soup and the like served in the cafeteria was something no one even wanted to look at. But out here, with the sea breeze on their faces and drinks in hand, appetite returned in force. Qian Shuiting had specifically fetched several bottles of California red and white from the Feiyun's wine locker, plus a bottle of Wuliangye to boot. The wine had come with the charter yacht and would be settled on return; the Wuliangye they had bought before setting out from America. Chinese premium baijiu was not only cheaper in the States—it was virtually impossible to fake. The Qian brothers and Zhou Weisen liked to have a drink when they had the time and had stocked up generously.

After another spell of sailing, Qian Duoduo finally tired of giving orders and demanded that the adults take her and her friend to ride the jet ski. Two jet skis had been included as part of the charter; they had played with them in Hawaii, but once they set sail for Hainan, fuel and mechanical wear had to be conserved, so the machines were drained of fuel and oil and stowed in plastic covers. After the transmigration, the brothers had offered to turn both jet skis over to the collective, but neither the Navy nor the Harbor Authority saw any use for them—no defensive capability, unfit for combat, thirsty for gasoline, and mechanically temperamental. In the end, the Technology Division requisitioned one unit for STC archival storage; the other was left aboard the Feiyun, kept only for emergencies.

To be able to ride this jet ski, the Qian brothers had racked their brains—including inquiring whether it could be converted to run on coal gas or alcohol. None of that was feasible.

Nobody had gasoline at this point. Even the Feiyun's engine had none—the fuel brought from the other time-space was long gone. The Chemical Division's distillation of coal tar could yield small amounts of gasoline, but there was no way to allocate any for private recreation. Liquid fuel was a Class-1 controlled material, managed even more strictly than weapons and ammunition. Obtaining even a drop of gasoline was next to impossible.

Eventually, Qian Shuiting managed to extract a quantity of "sump oil" from the yacht's fuel tank using a hand pump—dregs the engine's fuel pump could not reach, pooled at the bottom of the tank. The amount was substantial, but it had been sitting for close to three years, and no one knew whether it would still work. With nothing to lose, Qian Shuiting poured the old fuel into the jet ski and tried to start it. After belching a plume of black smoke, the engine roared to life and ran normally.

(End of Chapter)