Heretical Fishing

Chapter 84: Reconnaissance

My hand went to my cheek absentmindedly as Maria closed the door behind her.

The touch of her lips lingered, and I replayed it over in my mind.

I shook my head, dispelling the rumination—not because I wasn't enjoying it, just didn't want someone to come outside and see me standing there like a weirdo.

"Maybe it's time for Operation Sweet Tooth..." I mused aloud as I wandered back toward my home.

***

An arc of blue energy shot from Sergeant Snips and sliced through the log with ease, hit the sand beneath it, and made a ground-shaking thump.

The wood split in two, and as I collected the two halves, I leaned down, squinting between both. They were cut as if by sawmill; the line was straight and free of imperfection.

Sergeant Snips had cocked her head at my request—and the code name—yet happily joined my undertaking.

I smiled over at her.

She puffed up and nodded as she hissed her agreement.

"Alright, could you do the same, but right here, this time?"

I marked the spot I wanted with my fingernail, then set the wood down and stepped back.

Snips cocked her claw back as her ability engulfed her.

Then the claw slammed shut, and power shot forth.

***

I stroked the rather-content crab in my arms as I strode for the forest.

When we stepped beneath the forest canopy, the temperature almost immediately dropped ten degrees as the midday sun’s baking heat made way for the forest’s cool air.

I breathed deep, enjoying the moisture-laden oxygen that chilled my nose.

"There's just something about the forests here, Snips."

She shrugged.

"I guess you're more inclined to the ocean, aren't you?"

She nodded, leaning her head into my hand.

Realizing I'd stopped scratching her, I laughed and resumed.

We arrived within minutes, and as I gazed at the tree, I smiled.

Insects flew in and out of a hollow, the bees looking healthy and active.

"This is why I want to build something, Snips."

She cocked her head, blowing questioning bubbles. She leaped from my arms and scuttled toward the tree, her head moving back and forth adorably.

"Remember when I told you about these guys? That feels so long ago, but it's been what... weeks?"

She turned and hissed at me in agreement before returning her attention to the bees coming and going.

"So, bees make honey, but I'd have to destroy this hive to harvest it, which I don't want to do. I might just make some hives, leave them next to this one, and hope for the best. That way, the bees might expand, or another queen might make the new hive her home....?"

I shook my head.

"I have no damn clue how bees work, and I'd be more likely to kill them off by accident than to move them successfully. I just wanted to see if they were still here before I wasted wood, and more importantly, time."

I looked at the tree again, enjoying the chaos of so many bees darting about.

"Alright. They're here. Let's see how we go with the build."

She nodded, blowing happy bubbles as we pottered back toward the beach.

***

"If I were a bee," I said, "I'd not only avoid moving into this thing—I would also move my existing hive as far from it as possible."

Snips, my ever-supportive friend, made a so-so gesture with one claw as she looked over the abomination.

"I guess not measuring wasn't my brightest idea..."

In my head, having slightly different lengths for each plank would lend the otherwise-square hive a rustic look. In reality, it made it, well... not a square. The oblong shape sat there on the sand, taunting me.

I grabbed one corner and pulled it apart, the nails standing no chance against my enhanced strength.

"Let's try this again..."

After a few cuts from Snips, I started over.

I nailed sixteen different planks into a rough square. It was rickety and would twist under the slightest amount of pressure.

I sighed.

"I mean, it will probably work..."

Snips nodded, having entirely too much trust in my woodworking ability.

"If I'm going to do it, I may as well do it right. Let's cut some more planks, then I'll take a little trip into Tropica."

Snips bubbled along happily, always pleased to help out.

***

"G'day, Brad. How are ya, mate?"

Brad, one of the woodworking brothers, looked up from his workbench, startled from his focus.

"Oh... hello, Fischer." He looked at my armful of wooden planks, raising an eyebrow. "What can I do for you?"

"I was hoping I could make use of your tools for a bit... I'm happy to pay."

He set his chisel down and smiled at me.

"As long as you don't break anything, you're more than welcome to use the space."

I smiled at him—the people in this village were just too damn wholesome.

"Thanks, mate. In exchange, just let me know if you need any help down the line. That's what mates are for, yeah?"

"Sounds good to me, Fischer."

He pointed at the other end of his long desk.

"Take up a spot wherever you want."

I took up position behind one of the four vices atop the workspace, on the far end from Brad—I didn't want to impose.

After collecting a chisel, handsaw, ruler, and a pencil, I started measuring.

***

Brad continually glanced up from the slab of wood he was planing, checking up on Fischer's progress.

He'd figured it was a basic box given the materials he'd brought, but when Fischer started marking down measurements on the ends, his curiosity grew.

Given Brad's experience with woodworking, it didn't take him long to understand Fischer's intent—he was making dovetail joints.

Brad said nothing, only keeping a tentative eye on the project from afar.

Fischer checked all the measurements repeatedly, double-checking his work, and Brad nodded to himself.

Measure twice, cut once—clever.

As with the reel he'd crafted in their workshop, Fischer's speed was infuriating, and Brad once more found himself wondering if he was some hidden woodworking master.

He shook his head, smirking at himself.

What in Hephaestus' rock-hard chisel would a woodworking master need to hide from...?

Fischer finished chiseling the joints of one plank, nodded to himself, then put it against the ends of another, checking the measurements didn't need adjusting. He smiled to himself, then picked up the saw.

"Wait!" Brad yelled when he saw where Fischer placed it.

***

I jumped, Brad's unexpected yell surprising me, and my head shot toward him.

He strode toward me, smiling.

"Sorry, Fischer—I didn't mean to startle you."

He pointed down at the saw in my hand.

"You were about to make a mistake."

I blinked.

"Really...?"

I glanced at the wood, the saw, and cocked my head, uncomprehending.

"Don't think I was, mate..."

He grinned as he reached me, then nudged the saw's blade to the other side of my mark.

My eyebrows furrowed as I tried to work out what he was doing, then it hit me, and I laughed.

"Well, that's embarrassing."

I'd put the saw on the wrong side of the line, and would have wasted a plank of wood with my mistake—not the end of the world, but I would have had to go home and fetch a replacement if not for the timely intervention.

"Nothing to be ashamed of," Brad said. "I'd be lying if I said I never made simple mistakes like that, even ten years into owning my own workshop."

He gave me a kind smile and patted me on the shoulder.

"If anything, you should be proud—those joints look perfect so far."

"Minus the one I almost just ruined."

"Aye," Brad responded, laughing. "Except for that one."

"Well, feel free to jump-scare me if you notice any other mistakes. Thanks, mate."

Brad walked back toward the slab of wood he was carving away at, grinning at me over his shoulder.

"That I will."

***

With all the pieces carved—and with no mistakes, thanks to Brad—I started assembling the beehive.

It was a simple thing, with only two boxes—one for the bees to make honey in, and one for the queen... hangout area?

What was the non-harvestable area called again...? The part where the queen lives...?

I smirked to myself.

I'm just gonna call it the 'queen bed'. New world; new rules. That's assuming I have to collect another hive of bees, anyway—with any luck, the existing hive will use both boxes.

I constructed the queen bed first, all the pieces easily slotting together with a bit of elbow grease. I recalled it was normal to place a screen between the queen's area and the rest of the hive, but I didn't want to spend time weaving wire, and figured a little wooden paneling would do the trick.

Next, the honey collecting... area?

I'm just gonna call it the busy-bee box, I decided, the goofy name bringing me entirely too much joy.

I started putting together the aptly named box, and the wedged joints slid together after a little fist-hammering.

With both of the boxes complete, I started putting together the frames where bees would build honeycomb. I'd cut a single dovetail joint into the ends, and they slid in with ease. There were fourteen frames in total; seven for each box.

I'd brought my own nails, and now that all the wooden pieces were put together, I picked up the hammer and got to work.

With two hits to each nail, the boxes and frames were complete. I looked down at my handiwork as gratitude and accomplishment spread a smile across my face.

I slotted the frames into the boxes, and they held firm against the bracing I'd hammered to the boxes' inner walls.

Lifting the top box, I set it on the bottom one, and made to pick them both up and head out.

Instead, I froze as the System nudged me, and the beehive transformed.

Time halted as each wall of the boxes went fuzzy, expanded—doubling in size—then shrunk back in and solidified once more.

It didn't lower all the way down, and as the boxes' lines sharpened, I realized something startling. It had created another box from thin air; there were now three.

Handles had appeared in the boxes, and I felt the need to open them up, to see if the internal frames and overall structure had also altered, but then I remembered I wasn't alone.

My eyes darted to Brad. His back was toward me, his body hunched and muscles bulging as he planed the slab of wood atop his bench.

I scooped my beehive up and all but ran from the building.

"Cheers, Brad! Catch ya later, mate!" I called over one shoulder, concealing the boxes in front of my chest.

"See ya, Fischer!" Brad yelled back, his breath heavy from exertion.

***

As the sun set over the eastern mountains, Brad and his brother Greg made their way through the streets of Tropica.

"You're absolutely sure, Brad?"

He nodded, not turning to look at his brother.

"Aye, Greg. I'm certain."

No response came, and they strode in silence, headed for their friends' home. Their steps were hurried, and they reached it in no time. Brad knocked on the door in their usual pattern.

Tap. Tap, tap, tap. Tap.

They could hear something heavy set down inside, and a moment later, the door swung open.

Steven, one of the tailors, and one of their closest friends, beamed a smile at them.

"Hey there, guys. Come on in, it's good to see..."

He trailed off as he looked between them.

"What's wrong? Has something happened?"

Brad nodded.

"Can we talk inside?"

"Of course..."

Steven swung the door wider, inviting them in.

As Brad stepped inside, the warmth of a stove burning replaced the cool air of fading sunlight, but rather than being a comfort, it felt oppressive to his sweat-pricked skin.

"Oh, hello boys," Ruby said from where she stirred a pot.

When she saw the look on their faces, her demeanor immediately changed.

"Is everything okay...?"

The door closed behind them, and Brad took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before launching into his tale.

"Fischer came by the workshop today..."

***

"You're sure you don't mind?" Barry asked Corporal Claws.

She chirped in response, delighted with the task, and Barry nodded his thanks.

"You're most suited for reconnaissance, so I'm glad you agree."

Sergeant Snips bubbled her agreement, and the otter puffed up in pride.

She was the best for such things, given her speed, lithe form, and vastly superior intellect.

Without further ado, she chirped a goodbye, and ran across the sands, her paw-pads falling soft and silent across the landscape.

***

Corporal Claws grinned to herself as she reached Tropica; she was the night.

With the fading daylight, she climbed a building, excited to start her watch.

Following the cultivator incident, and how unprepared they had been for it, they'd realized their, uh... folly? Mistakery? Indis... cretion?

Claws shook her head. Words and definitions were for the less-smarter of their number, and it didn't befit the most intelligent of them all—the fast, speedy, clever, and agile Corporal Claws—to worry about such things.

She dashed across the rooftops, pausing in the shadow of a chimney as she scouted her domain.

Most of the citizens of Tropica had already returned to their homes and started cooking; scents and flavor drifted through the air, none of which held a candle to her master's food.

Given the lack of people traversing the streets, it was notable when two forms, both large men, made haste between the buildings, heading somewhere to the east.

Corporal Claws, master of the rooftops and traverser of tiles, leapt to another building, trailing them.

When they reached a house and knocked on the door, the two men were ushered inside, so Claws clambered down the wall, wedging herself between a pipe and the stones that made up the home.

She closed her eyes, focusing all attention on her enhanced hearing.

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