Worldshaker 01; Worldshaker

by Richard Harland

  Well, good riddance to her. His spirits lifted. The problem had been solved, she’d escaped by herself. What happened to her next wasn’t his concern.

  He washed, using the hand basin, dressed and combed his hair. He grinned at his reflection in the mirror. What was this announcement Grandfather was going to make?

  ∨ Worldshaker ∧

  Four

  Breakfast took place in the Northumberland Room, three corridors away from Col’s cabin in the middle of Forty-Second Deck. It was a room for the exclusive use of the Porpentine family, and the five branches of the family were already seated at separate tables when Col arrived. White tablecloths, fresh napkins, silver cutlery, gleaming cups and plates – after last night, it was all so right and normal. The linen was decorated with pretty pink motifs, while the cups and plates had borders of primrose yellow. Even the legs of the tables were decently clothed in white ruffs and flounces.

  Col took his seat next to his mother and father, Quinnea and Orris. Facing him across the table were Gillabeth and his baby brother Antrobus. His grandfather and grandmother sat at the head of the table: the twin pillars of his world, Sir Mormus and Lady Ebnolia Porpentine.

  Six Menials wheeled a trolley around from table to table, unloading teapots, kippers and racks of toast under the supervision of two stewards. The stewards were far inferior in rank to the elite Porpentines, but they were still Upper Decks people. Menials, on the other hand, didn’t count as people at all. You looked over them or through them, but never really at them.

  Col studied these six out of the corner of his eye. They wore the grey pyjama-like uniforms of all Menials – in fact, everything about them was grey. Compared to the young Filthy girl, they seemed incredibly old and lumbering.

  “Grace.” Sir Mormus rapped on the table and produced an instant hush. “In the name of her Imperial Majesty, Queen Victoria, may we be truly grateful for the good things here before us. Amen.”

  Evidently he intended to make his announcement at the end of breakfast. As the meal began amid a tinkle of cutlery and murmur of polite conversation, Col turned his attention to his grandfather. There was something magnificently solid and immovable about Sir Mormus’s massive shoulders and large head. His very presence was as much a statement of authority as his braided jacket and high starched collar, or the keys of office on the gold chain round his neck.

  Col couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be so powerful and self-assured. Sir Mormus always gave orders in a tone of absolute command. Col didn’t know exactly what a Supreme Commander did, but he knew that his grandfather was the most important person on Worldshaker after the Queen and her Consort. He was glad to be a Porpentine and share some of the reflected glory.

  “Eat up, Colbert,” said Quinnea. “Not too fast, though.”

  Col focused on the kipper and toast on his plate. Kippers for breakfast were a tradition from the Old Country, though the kippers they ate came from everywhere else in the world, never the Old Country.

  His mother was more interested in Col’s eating than her own, and had pushed aside her plate after a few mouthfuls. Other people were watching him too – he sensed half-smiles and glances directed his way. Did they already guess something about the forthcoming announcement? Adults usually took no notice of the younger generation at all.

  Ten minutes later, Sir Mormus concluded breakfast by wiping his mouth on an enormous handkerchief. When he rose to his feet, every conversation died away.

  He nodded towards the five tables in turn. “Morpice Porpentines. Rumpley Porpentines. Leath Porpentines. Oblett Porpentines. Sir Mormus Porpentines.” Each branch was named after its most senior member. Naturally the Sir Mormus Porpentines were the most important. “I have an announcement that concerns you all.” He crooked a finger at Col. “Stand up, young man, stand up.”

  Col stood. He held himself very upright, though his heart was hammering.

  “My grandson, Colbert.” Sir Mormus spoke with slow deliberation, as though every word had been weighed and found worthy. “Eldest male child of Orris and Quinnea Porpentine. What have you achieved so far in your life?”

  Col thought and came up with an answer. “Education, sir.”

  “Go on.”

  “Lessons with Professor Twillip, sir. My tutor.”

  “That’s all?”

  Quinnea uttered a little pleading sound. “He tutored my sister’s daughter, Sir Mormus…highly recommended…”

  Sir Mormus hardly seemed to hear her. “What do you know about the real world, my boy? Not much, I suppose?”

  “No, sir. Not much.”

  “You’ve had a sheltered upbringing, my boy. From now on, you will attend school. I have come to a decision about you.”

  Sir Mormus swung to face the other four tables. “Look at him, all of you. See how tall he stands? Straight back, fine chest, firm mouth. Particularly good eyebrows. Very black. What do you think?”

  The Porpentines at the other four tables looked attentive.

  “I’ll tell you what to think. This boy is the future of our family. He will go to school and learn control and authority. I nominate him as my successor. I shall prepare him to become the next Supreme Commander.”

  Col’s gasp was lost among all the other gasps. Successor! Supreme Commander! The idea was so staggering he couldn’t take it in. He wanted to look round at his mother and father. But something told him to maintain his posture, keep his eyes straight ahead.

  “What do you have to say, my boy?”

  “I shall do my best, sir.”

  “Only your best? You have some doubts about yourself?”

  “No, sir. I shall become the next Supreme Commander after you.”

  Col had no notion where the words were coming from, but he knew exactly what to say. It was as though Sir Mormus’s influence had spread across to him. The announcement was completely unexpected, yet it was also right, very right. He felt that some part of him had known all along.

  “Good, good.” Sir Mormus approved. “You will have competitors, of course. But if you possess the true fibre of a Porpentine, my support will see you through. We have had a Porpentine as Supreme Commander for all but twelve of the last one hundred and fifty years. The tradition is in your hands, my boy.”

  The entire Porpentine family broke into applause. Even baby brother Antrobus brought his hands together like a little mechanical toy, imitating the adults. Gillabeth clapped, but with an expression on her face as though she were having teeth pulled.

  Col continued to look serious, though inside he was grinning fit to burst. I can do this, he thought. I can really do it.

  When the applause died down, Sir Mormus lowered his voice to a meditative rumble. “I once stood as you stand, Colbert Porpentine. When I was your age, my father made the same announcement about me. I was overwhelmed. I feared I wasn’t ready. I trembled at the prospect.”

  “No, no.” Murmurs of protest came from around the room.

  “Yes, I trembled. Even I. Yet I rose to fulfil the role bestowed upon me. When summoned, I found the necessary strength of character. Willpower is what it takes, my boy.”

  And I’m not even trembling, Col exulted inwardly. Aloud, he said, “I have willpower, sir. I shall do as you did. I shall serve my family and my Queen.”

  Another round of applause confirmed that he had said exactly the right thing once more. Col had never been the centre of attention before – but yes, he could get used to it!

  “Sir, I have a request.” Sir Mormus’s stare was like a battering ram, but Col refused to flinch. “I don’t know much about the real world, sir, as you said. I’ve never gone beyond the upper levels of the Upper Decks. If I’m to be prepared for supreme command, I’d like to see the whole of our juggernaut, sir. From top to bottom, sir.”

  There was a fraught silence. Had he pushed things too far? Although he hadn’t actually said ‘Below’, that was what the word ‘bottom’ implied.

  Sir Mormus let out a snort like a trumpe
t blast. “Very good, my boy.” It was a snort of approval. “A suitable request. I shall take you from top to bottom myself. The top first. Is that all?”

  “That’s all, sir.”

  Sir Mormus turned to the room again. “I shall be on the Bridge at nine o’clock. Someone can escort him there. This breakfast is at an end.”

  The head steward hurried up with the chit for Sir Mormus to sign. Then Lady Ebnolia rose and attached herself to her husband’s arm. With slow and stately steps, they made their exit from the Northumberland Room.

  ∨ Worldshaker ∧

  Five

  Col remained the centre of attention for the next half-hour.

  The male heads of the four other branches shook his hand and wished him well. The women fussed over him and seemed surprised that he’d grown so tall without their noticing.

  “You must come to one of our whist evenings, young man’. ‘Perhaps you’d like to attend our book club?’ ‘Will you take him to the Fefferleys’ high tea, Quinnea?” Col’s mother nodded silently and dabbed at her cheeks with a tiny handkerchief.

  “Oh, he really must get out into society more. I hear the Dollimonds are having a soiree.”

  “And don’t forget the Imperial Gala Reception coming up’. ‘You’ve been hiding him away, Orris, I do declare.” Col’s father responded with one of his slow, sad smiles.

  “No, no. We’ve been waiting and hoping for this moment to arrive.”

  Eventually the crowd thinned out, until only the members of Col’s own family branch remained. Then Orris spoke up in his funereal voice.

  “I’ll escort you to the Bridge now, Colbert. As your father, I think that’s appropriate.”

  So they set out. As always, Orris’s presence had a depressing effect. Col loved his father like a dutiful son, of course, but he had always been aware that there was something not quite right about him. Something more than the droop of his shoulders or the sag of his jowls. An air of perpetual gloom clung to him like a shroud.

  They ascended a staircase to Forty-Third Deck and walked past the Wiltshire Room and the Imperial Staterooms. Then more staircases, up to Forty-Eighth Deck. Here they left behind the residential regions and arrived at the administrative regions of the juggernaut.

  They passed offices with glass doors, offices with maps on the walls and metal filing cabinets. The carpets were unpatterned green or brown, and the paintwork a dull cream colour.

  “This is the highest I’ve ever been,” said Col. “Forty-Eighth Deck.”

  “Ah, well. The Bridge is six decks higher.”

  “Can you see outside from the Bridge?”

  “Yes. It’ll be a new experience for you.”

  Col thought back. “I’ve seen outside before. On Garden Deck, when we went on our holidays.”

  “It’s not the same, Colbert. Garden Deck is walled in at the sides.”

  “I saw the sky, though. Real day and night. Real sunshine.”

  “That’s nothing to what you’ll see from the Bridge.” Orris pulled thoughtfully at his chin. “Let me show you.”

  He turned suddenly down a side passage and arrived at an oil painting of their own juggernaut hanging on the wall. Col had seen similar paintings before; in fact, his only idea of how Worldshaker might look from the outside came from such pictures. But the settings were always dramatically obscure, with clouds or swirling haze, dazzling sun or jags of lightning.

  This one was clearer than most: Worldshaker by moonlight. Tier by tier it rose, like a mountain blotting out the stars.

  “So big,” Col breathed.

  “Two and a half miles long, three-quarters of a mile wide. Still the largest human construction on the face of the earth. Here’s the Bridge, up here.”

  Orris pointed to a spot of brightness at the top of the black silhouette. The Bridge faced forward from the brim of a towering cliff of superstructure.

  “Twenty-six years ago,” he went on, musingly to himself. “I looked out there once.” He cleared his throat. “And this is Garden Deck, down here.”

  He moved his finger to indicate an area below the cliff, towards the front of the juggernaut.

  “What about Below?” asked Col. “Where’s that?”

  Orris sketched a rough line across the silhouette. “The bottom quarter of the hull. I…well…” He broke off.

  Col studied the painting, but there was no visible division on the black side of the juggernaut. Then he noticed something else.

  “What’s that?” He pointed to a shape in the background. “Another juggernaut?”

  “Frederick the Great. The Prussian juggernaut. We’re over…overtaking it.”

  Orris seemed to be having difficulties with his words. Col turned and saw that his father was blinking back tears. Suddenly it all fell into place.

  “You looked out from the Bridge twenty-six years ago?”

  Orris nodded. “I was fourteen years old.”

  “Grandfather showed you from top to bottom of the juggernaut, didn’t he? Just like me?”

  Another nod. “I was to be his successor. Until I failed.”

  Of course, it was obvious. Col was amazed he hadn’t realised before. Sir Mormus’s son should have been first choice to follow in his footsteps, not his grandson.

  “How did you fail?” he demanded. Then, realising he might sound less than respectful, “Can you tell me, sir?”

  This time, Orris shook his head. “That would be inappropriate, Colbert. Come. You wouldn’t want to be late for your grandfather.”

  Col was used to the way the word inappropriate closed off all further discussion. They walked on up through Forty-Ninth, Fiftieth and Fifty-First Decks. On Fifty-Second Deck, Orris came suddenly to a halt.

  “Yes, I will tell you.” He turned to Col. “You ought to be prepared.”

  Still he didn’t speak immediately. When he did, he lowered his voice to a whisper. “A softness of the heart betrayed me, Colbert. It was my weakness that no one had ever suspected. I’d never suspected it myself. But when I looked down Below and saw them…”

  “You mean the Filthies? Sir?”

  “Yes, yes. We can speak frankly about them, now that you’re moving beyond childhood. You’ll have to face up to many hard facts of life we don’t mention before women and children. You’ll see sights you never imagined.”

  “You went down among them?” Col was horrified at the thought.

  “Not among them, no. There are viewing bays for looking out Below. Sir Mormus will take you to one, eventually. Not close. But you can still hear them…sometimes you can see them…”

  For a moment, Orris couldn’t go on. His Adam’s apple went up and down as if he was trying to swallow something painful.

  “My reason told me that the Filthies aren’t like us. They’re not sensitive to pain and suffering in the same way. But I felt something for them. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t bear to stay. I broke and ran, I said mad, hysterical things…Oh, the shame, Colbert! The shame of it!”

  Col felt ashamed for him too. Before, he’d been curious, but now he only wished his father would keep his secrets to himself.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry to be taking your place.”

  “No, don’t be sorry!” Orris spoke with sudden forcefulness. “I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to glory in your success. Be proud of your strength of character. Be thankful you don’t have my kind of weakness. You mustn’t make the mistakes I made.”

  With his father’s lugubrious, froglike eyes upon him, Col could only think to say what he’d said in the Northumberland Room. “I shall serve my family and my Queen, sir.”

  Orris appeared satisfied. “Yes, there’s no morbid taint in you. You’ll prove it was only an aberration. Whatever happened to me, the Porpentine bloodline runs true in my son.”

  In silence, they continued up to Fifty-Third Deck. Col made a promise to himself: he would honour his father as a dutiful son, but he would be as unlike him as possible. He understood n
ow what wasn’t quite right about Orris Porpentine, the aura of failure he carried like a smell. Col vowed he would never, ever have that aura.

  The last flight of steps led up to a steel-panelled door. Guarding the door was an ensign armed with a long-barrelled rifle. Col goggled. He had seen pictures of guns, but he’d never seen one in real life before.

  “Master Colbert Porpentine,” said Orris, standing back. “To see Sir Mormus Porpentine.”

  The ensign snapped to attention, turned a handle and flung open the door.

  “The Bridge is through there, Colbert.” Orris lowered his voice. “You’ll do what is right, I know you will.”

  “Aren’t you coming too?”

  “No, not me. But you go in.”

  Col could hardly bear the sight of his father’s sad, hopeful smile. He went in to meet his grandfather.

  ∨ Worldshaker ∧

  Six

  The Bridge was a hubbub of organised activity, with thirty or more officers pulling on levers, rotating wheels, speaking into voicepipes. Control units stood in rows, square cabinets of dark polished wood with glass dials and gleaming brasswork. Bells rang, buzzers buzzed, orders were shouted.

  Looking in from the doorway, Col saw that the floor rose level by level to a curving strip of clear glass windows at the front. Sir Mormus Porpentine sat enthroned in a carved wooden chair on the topmost level. Blue sky and white clouds were visible through the glass, so much bluer and whiter than in any picture.

  A senior officer caught sight of Col and spoke in the Supreme Commander’s ear.

  “Maintain course for Palk Strait,” Sir Mormus boomed.

  He rose from his chair and came down to where Col waited. “Well, grandson. What do you think of the Bridge?”

  “Amazing, sir. So many controls.”

  Sir Mormus nodded. “Every officer knows his role. If anyone did the wrong thing at the wrong time, the consequences would be disastrous.” He pointed to a particular bank of dials, monitored by three officers. “For example, without those officers, our axles would overheat through lack of lubrication and our turbines would go into meltdown.” He pointed to another five officers hovering over a row of levers. “And if those officers didn’t balance the steam pressure in our boilers, the boilers would explode and destroy us all. A finely tuned system, my boy.”