Sharksinger

by Jay Aspen

  Aluna sighs. ‘Traitors. That means our education for peace isn’t working.’

  Olewala concedes. ‘True. But our immediate concern is to arrest these intruders who may already be in one of our underwater caves. And once we find them I suspect our mission won’t be very peaceful.’

  ‘And these people you have brought. You can trust them?’

  ‘They have already risked their lives more than once to stop this war before it starts.’

  The captain dips her head in acknowledgement and hands back our weapons.

  ‘Come. The Webdancers are waiting. They’ve been staying close to the island since Janna left for Merkaan. I summoned them as soon as Mebele reported your call-sign.’ She leads the way back into the tunnel and up a long spiral staircase carved into a natural curve in the rock, her powerful movements setting a brisk pace. The few Rhangarians we pass step hastily back out of our way, giving Aluna a respectful salute.

  I explore the rough rock surface with my fingers as I climb, fascinated by the way all the construction here blends so seamlessly with the strange shapes of the natural outcroppings.

  ‘Geology,’ explains Olewala, pointing to the spirals and arches around us. ‘Alternate layers of hard and soft rock folded by geological pressure, then uplifted through the ocean until they broke surface. The salt waves eroded the soft rock, leaving folds of hard rock with tunnels and caves in between. Over the years our ancestors laid in floors for living and for gardens. Now the whole line of islands is a labyrinth of caves, rooms, gardens and terraces.’ His voice echoes his Rhangarian pride at the achievements of their colony.

  We emerge onto one of the terraces. Slender rock arches curve overhead, lofty blue-grey shapes silhouetted against the sky, their lower pillars festooned with the bright flowers and fruit of climbing vines. The far side of the terrace is guarded by a low parapet below which glistening wet rocks fall sheer to the ocean.

  From below comes the dull swoosh and roar of pounding waves blending with the cries of seabirds above and the chittering of lemurs in the trees surrounding the courtyard. The arched doorway through which we’ve come is one of several in the rock wall behind us, each leading to a shadowy passage that disappears into the heart of Rhangaran.

  Three men and three women, their hair woven in many long slender braids and wearing ankle-length blue-green robes are standing in the middle of the courtyard, circling a large hologram of the islands that hangs in the air like a mirage. As Olewala strides towards them the nearest woman looks round and breaks into a broad smile.

  ‘Ollie! Good to see you again. We got the message from Mebele. You’ve come back for a little social visit? He’s fetching the pearapple brandy.’ She gives Olewala a fond hug, then steps back so he can greet the other five.

  I turn to Aluna. ‘Janna and Olewala cut their hair when they came to Merkaan so they’d blend in with everyone else?’

  Aluna’s face remains impassive. ‘Given our history, it’s a reasonable precaution.’

  I watch, fascinated, wondering what new insights these island Webdancers have gained from their five generations of isolation from the mainland. I have never seen so many experts from their elite Order together before. In fact, apart from school visits for occasional days of specialist teaching from Kar University’s Principal, Olewala and Janna are the only other adepts I’ve met.

  It’s hard to define what gives them this aura of being so exciting and special. Perhaps it’s the quiet confidence that comes from their heightened awareness of their surroundings, or perhaps it’s the way this awareness enables them to anticipate and act ahead of anyone outside their discipline.

  Just watching and listening makes me feel slow and fuzzy by comparison, longing for the training I know would bring together some of the wilder fragments of my lieth awareness and take me to the next level of heightened sharpness and clarity I glimpse occasionally, only to lose it again a few seconds later. I’m not alone in finding the life-enhancing connection with infinity alluring enough to persevere with the training to explore it further.

  A short middle-aged man with a beaming plump face at odds with a droopy grey moustache marches into the courtyard from one of the arched doorways. He carries a bottle in one hand and a piece of folded turquoise cloth in the other.

  ‘Ollie! So they let you out of the dock without subjecting you to a full truthseer grilling! Hope you’re ready for the pearapple brandy?’

  Olewala turns towards him. ‘Good to see you too, Mebele. But I think celebrations will have to wait till we have something to celebrate.’ He waves a hand at the hologram. ‘Looks like you’ve prepared a good gestalt holo out of what everyone’s discovered so far.’

  Mebele hands the bottle to Aluna. ‘Take care of that till we’re ready for it, will you?’

  She rolls her eyes in mock exasperation. ‘Mebele! I wish you’d remember I’m not supposed to be your personal valet.’

  He gives her a mischievous grin, clearly enjoying his somewhat exempt status as chief Rhangarian gestalt.

  ‘Don’t worry Aluna, we’ll save it till you’re off duty and we’ll make sure there’s a glass for you.’ He turns back to Olewala, his face suddenly serious. ‘I hope you’ve brought enough information to fill the huge gaps in what we’ve managed to collate over the past weeks. You ready for this?’

  Olewala straightens his back and takes a deep breath. ‘Best get it done straight away. The other two will have things to add as soon as I’ve finished.’

  Mebele shakes out the long robe he’s carrying. ‘You may have been living in that foreign city for a while, but we need to keep up our traditions.’ He drapes the folds of shimmering turquoise silk around Olewala’s shoulders.

  They walk up to the hovering image and Mebele spreads his fingers onto the holo-vis keys controlling the projection. A tall young woman steps forward, her blue-green silk robe rustling softly against her long braids as she moves. She holds Olewala’s gaze.

  ‘My name is Saroyan. Truthseer of the Rhangarian Webdancers.’

  He smiles. ‘You were only a child when I left for Merkaan seven years ago. You must have a powerful gift to be given this responsibility while still so young.’

  Saroyan returns the smile a little hesitantly, clearly in awe of the experienced Webdancer.

  ‘Are you ready?’

  He nods silently. Saroyan begins speaking softly and rapidly as she guides him around the floating holo-image, pointing out marked features and icons as she goes.

  I listen intently. Up to now I’ve been twitching with impatience, wondering why they’re wasting time looking at a holo instead of going out hunting for traitors and invaders, but suddenly it all starts to make sense. Saroyan’s description of the Rhangarian discoveries is the most compelling and vivid account of anything I’ve ever learned, whether in school or out of it.

  The positions and access points to the underwater caves emerge bright and clear into my mind, Saroyan’s softly spoken words conjuring images and ideas so compelling I know I’ll remember them in every detail. I learn that these islands contain several large caves, each with the same kind of security locks as the one through which we just entered.

  It would probably need the whole of the Rhangarian military and a carefully planned attack to gain control of whichever one has been occupied by armed and determined conspirators. The Council will have to figure which is the right one before acting.

  When Saroyan has finished speaking, everyone stands silently. I sense they are committing all of this to memory, just as I am, even though the other Webdancers must have been through all this already.

  Aluna whispers an explanation. ‘Saroyan is a powerful truthseer. She can connect directly with your mind if you can remain open to her. It makes her descriptions more vivid and easier to remember, but it takes a lot of concentration by both participants.’

  I’m guessing the collective silence is meant to help the group come up with creative solutions.

  ‘I think I already noticed som
ething, even as an observer. Even though I wasn’t expecting it.’

  ‘Good,’ says Aluna approvingly. ‘It’ll get better with practice. You’ll get a second chance when it’s your turn. They’re both having a short rest, then Ollie will start to describe what he knows and Mebele will key that input into the holo while his gestalt awareness works on finding the connections. Saroyan will do her best to connect with both of them and improve the clarity of their communication.’

  Olewala completes his input in less than fifteen minutes. Even as an observer, I feel transported into the intricate workings of the islands and the significance of the new information. When the next period of silence comes, Aluna nudges my arm.

  ‘They’re waiting for you.’

  I look round. All eyes are on me.

  Suddenly feeling overwhelmed and intimidated, I step forward and face the holo.

  13

  Olewala gives my shoulder an encouraging squeeze before moving back out of the way. He looks exhausted.

  I step as close as I dare to the holo and Saroyan turns to face me. I find myself gazing into the truthseer’s cool grey eyes... and the mind-connection suddenly becomes almost painfully intense.

  Saroyan blinks in surprise.

  You have ayan awareness!

  I feel a wave of prickling embarrassment. I’d been so relieved when the effects started wearing off, feeling I could finally put my past mistakes behind me. Maybe the connection with Saroyan has reawakened some residual effects. Then it suddenly occurs to me that the young truthseer hadn’t actually spoken the words.

  Saroyan lays a reassuring hand on my arm.

  I read your confusion. Leave it behind. The danger is great and we must use everything we have. You’ve already learned enough about the islands so we can go direct to your input. Focus on me and on Mebele.

  It feels like leaping off a cliff into the unknown. Or maybe like the moment I took a chance and threw myself at Talaya and her gun. I let myself be carried by the powerful concentration of Saroyan and Mebele, and start telling them my story.

  And I’m several minutes into it before I realize I’m not actually speaking either.

  I FEEL OLEWALA’S STRONG hands gripping my shoulders.

  ‘Hannik, are you all right?’ He sounds concerned. I feel dizzy and exhausted, almost as if I’ve been physically running round the islands several times already. In spite of Olewala holding me upright I’m swaying on my feet, my heart racing and my thoughts overloaded with information.

  ‘I must have been listening as well as talking...’

  I break off, wondering if the others have any idea what has been happening if I haven’t spoken aloud.

  Olewala either knows or guesses. ‘I was watching you. I think you’ve been following Mebele’s calculations at the same time as giving him your information.’

  Severin elbows his way forward and grabs my wrist. ‘Hannik, your pulse is too high again.’ He reaches for one of his darts. I try to push him away.

  ‘No, Severin, I need to stay awake and think! There’s something I’m missing and I’ve nearly got it...’ I see the pain on his face as he struggles to overcome his concern for me but I have to focus on the emergency instead. ‘Just hold off for a minute. I’ll figure it out soon.’

  I try to relax and let my focus go where instinct takes it. ‘It’s the tunnel leading from Eden. Everyone’s assuming it’s the conspirators’ planned way to break in, but it would never work. The Webdancers have already sensed it and it’s still several miles from reaching Rhangaran. They’ll know when a disturbance that great finally arrives and they’ll be ready for it. It’s for something else.’

  Severin moves the dart towards my arm but I shake my head and push him away again.

  ‘Wait, there’s more. They have a reason for arriving here before the tunnel does. It’s something to do with the blueprints I saw for the stolen guns...’ I close my eyes, frustrated by my lack of tec education to help me put the ideas together.

  Severin suddenly lets go of my wrist.

  ‘I know what it is!’ He turns to Mebele. ‘Do you have a replicator here?’ Even as Mebele signals assent, Severin is unrolling his holo-vis. ‘Can you bring up the spec for it on a separate holo? I think if I input the extra components that went missing from the university, we’ll suddenly see your device with the extra capacity to replicate parts for hundreds of far more powerful weapons than a few handguns.’

  He turns back to me. ‘Now, please let me do this! Promise I won’t give you the whole dart, just enough to slow your heart down a bit.’

  ‘Just make sure I stay awake so I can watch,’ is all I can manage before there’s a sting in my arm and everything goes dark.

  When I wake up I’m sitting on the ground with Olewala kneeling behind me and supporting my back.

  Dammit, I missed learning the complicated bit on those blueprints that I didn’t understand!

  ‘Severin! You promised!’

  He looks round from his place by Mebele’s holo-images. ‘I promised I wouldn’t give you the whole dart. I didn’t promise to keep you awake the whole time. I think I learned that ruse from you when you got around Alis’ orders to stay with your sister. Anyhow, you’ve only been out for ten minutes and it’s all been tec-talk anyway.’

  He catches my annoyed glare and walks over to sit beside me. ‘The Webdancers need a few minutes to help Mebele and Captain Aluna work out a plan. Then we’ll be ready.’

  I’m too curious to stay annoyed any longer.

  ‘Fine. Severin, you’re forgiven. Just tell me where you’ve got to.’

  He pauses for a moment to work out a short version of the information exchange he’s just completed.

  ‘About fifty years ago a few people from the islands were encouraged to start visiting the capital. The government in Merkaan hoped improved communications would decrease the risk of them starting another war. They offered a gift of a replicator so the Rhangarians could build things like security locks for their ports and repair the three recon shuttles they’d salvaged from crash sites on the Eden coast. The Rhangarians had to sign a treaty promising never to upgrade the device so it could build weapons. And those extra components that disappeared from the university are exactly what’s needed for the upgrade.’

  My gestalt is already in action.

  ‘The conspirators’ plan is to make the Rhangarians their scapegoats so they can blame them for the war. Then they will kill them, claim they’ve saved Pangaea where the government failed, and that’s how they’ll complete their takeover. The main purpose of the tunnel is to create evidence that will incriminate them.’

  ‘Whoa! That’s quite a jump of ideas. How did you work that out?’

  ‘A bit of dark news I’d completely forgotten about till you mentioned the replicator here being used to make far more powerful guns. It said descendants of the terrorists who started the previous war were planning to start again and the government was deliberately covering up the risk. When I thought about it, everything sort of jumped into place.’

  Mebele is staring at his holo-images. He merges the replicator spec into the main island map and steps back.

  ‘I think Hannik’s right. Obviously, we can’t connect to your message-net all the way out here, so I have no idea what dark news is, but the rest of the pattern in the holo agrees with what she said.’

  ‘How big is the replicator?’ I’m already struggling shakily to my feet.

  ‘About half the size of a small recon if you disconnect the reservoirs for different feedstocks.’ Severin grabs my arm before I fall.

  ‘So even if it’s partly dismantled, it would be in several quite heavy sections?’

  ‘So?’

  ‘The traitors will be in the cave nearest the replicator station. Less distance to lug it through corridors.’ I look round at the Captain of the Guard, but Aluna is already on her com unit, ordering her teams to the replicator station even as she heads for the doorway. Severin and I follow, ignoring Mebele
’s pleas to leave it to the professionals.

  We race down a series of twisting rock passageways linking several levels. I hear footsteps following and turn my head to see that Olewala and Saroyan have thrown aside their traditional Webdancer robes for gestalt-gathering and are close behind us.

  We burst through the open door to the large fabrication facility that up to a few minutes ago must have housed the replicator. Barrels of powdered feedstock are stacked along one side but the middle of the space is empty except for the dark print on the floor where the replicator once stood.

  I barely notice this detail, all my focus moving to the furious battle being fought on the far side of the space. The security guards Aluna had sent ahead have surprised the intruders in the middle of their heist and are desperately trying to get past the enemy rearguard to stop them escaping with the replicator. Several technicians lie dead or wounded on the floor.

  Suddenly I feel rather than hear Saroyan’s voice in my head.

  Get down!

  It’s utterly compelling, almost as if someone else is guiding my arm as I reach out to grab Severin, pulling him to the floor and tripping Aluna in the process. We roll behind a pile of feedstock barrels just as the explosion blasts through the station, a shower of rock fragments ripping the air and battering the walls.

  My ears are ringing and the shouts and screams of the others seem faint and far away. I rub my ears with my hands, trying to hear properly, trying to recall where I am and what I need to do next. Then I see Severin lying still in the rubble, covered in dust and blood. I crawl across to him through the grit and splinters.