Pressure

by Brian Keene

  Mariotte and Maberry approached the rusting hulk as a Japanese man descended the accommodation ladder clinging to the ship’s side. He was short, stout, and somewhere in his sixties, Carrie judged. His greasy black hair was streaked with white, as was the goatee around his mouth and chin. A horrific, wide scar ran from the right side of his forehead to the lower left of his jaw, zigzagging at various junctures. The flesh inside the ragged mark was a sickly shade of pink. The contrast against his darker features was jarring. The scar was made worse by his general demeanor. His expression was like curdled milk.

  The scarred man huddled with the agents at the bottom of the ladder. Although Carrie couldn’t hear what was being said between them, it was easy to tell from his body language and his tone that he wasn’t pleased about the inclusion of Abhi and herself. They argued for a few minutes, and then the man’s demeanor suddenly changed. He seemed satisfied, if not happy. Turning, Mariotte motioned for Carrie and Abhi to approach. They did so with some trepidation.

  “I don’t like this,” Abhi whispered.

  “Too late to back out now,” Carrie replied.

  “This is Katashi Takenaka,” Mariotte said, introducing the Japanese man. “He’s the captain of this vessel, and in charge of this expedition. I’ve informed him of Miss Anderson’s objective, and he is to give you his full cooperation while at sea, provided it doesn’t interfere with his mission.”

  Well, Carrie thought, now we know why he looked so pissed off.

  She stuck out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain Takenaka. This is my assistant, Abhi.”

  “Assistant?” Abhi frowned.

  Carrie ignored him. “I’m sorry that we’re meeting under these circumstances. I’m sure it must be an inconvenience for you, but we’ll do our best to stay out of your way, and not trouble you or your crew any further.”

  Takenaka nodded curtly, his expression dour, but did not shake Carrie’s hand. Instead, he turned his head, snorted, and then spat a wad of mucus into the water.

  “Yes,” he said. His English was almost flawless, if somewhat clipped, but his voice sounded like car tires crunching on gravel. “It is an inconvenience. My crew and I are not babysitters. But now I am being paid more money than was originally contracted, just for taking you both aboard, so … welcome aboard.”

  He swept his hand toward the ship, and smiled. It looked more like a grimace. Carrie had the impression that this was a man who was unaccustomed to displaying joy or happiness or good cheer. She noticed a long tattoo running along the inside of his left forearm—a series of Japanese letters. She had no idea what the translation was, but the tattoo had obviously been there for some time, judging by how faded the black ink had become. Another old scar bisected the tattoo’s middle.

  “You’ll be the only vessel out there tonight,” Mariotte informed them. “Our superiors made an arrangement with both the Mauritian government and the international research flotilla. No marine traffic is allowed in these waters until dawn.”

  “What about air traffic?” Takenaka asked.

  “There’s also a no-fly zone in effect until dawn, as well,” Mariotte said. “Just make sure the job is completed before then.”

  “Make sure you have my money,” Takenaka replied.

  “You’ll be paid the second half upon completion of the mission, Captain.”

  “I’d better be.”

  The two security agents didn’t wish them luck or say goodbye. They simply returned to their vehicle and drove away. As their taillights faded into the darkness, Carrie and Abhi followed Takenaka up the ladder. When they reached the deck, a seaman approached the captain and said something in Japanese. While the two spoke amongst themselves, Carrie and Abhi observed the ship, taking it all in. The crew was a ragged, swarthy bunch composed of different nationalities and races. They seemed to emit a collective atmosphere of danger. She saw no other woman onboard. Despite the disconcerting vibe the sailors gave off, they obviously knew their craft, and went about preparing to get underway with a skill and efficiency that left her impressed.

  “What do you think?” Abhi whispered.

  She leaned close to his ear. “I feel like we just walked into the Mos Eisley spaceport.”

  Nodding sagely, Abhi tried to do an impression of Sir Alec Guinness. “We must be careful.”

  “You’ll be dead,” Takenaka barked, startling them. Then he attempted another smile, and failed once again. “Yes, I know Star Wars, too. And yes, it applies to these men. Most of them have worked for me for years. I know them all too well. They are hard men. But no harm will come to you. This is business and we are on the job.”

  “Do you get a lot of jobs like this?” Abhi asked.

  Takenaka shrugged. “Until Alpinus Biofutures hired us, we were fighting pirates off the coast of Somalia. Protecting merchant vessels, mostly, for various companies and magnates. Before that, we fought sex-slave traders off the coast of Yemen. Before that, a militia in Sudan, and we also provided security after the tsunami back in 2004. But Alpinus offered us more money than any of these.”

  “I see,” Carrie replied. “And what, exactly, did they hire you to do, Captain?”

  “Ah, well. I cannot say. I signed a non-disclosure agreement. You understand? Legally binding and all that. I don’t want to jeopardize my payday.”

  “I won’t tell anyone.”

  “Neither will I. That’s the point of a non-disclosure agreement. Things were much easier before we had those. I would like to find the lawyer who invented them and gut him like a fish.”

  Carrie ignored this, refusing to be dissuaded from her questions. “Were you paid to capture the creature?”

  Takenaka’s eyes shifted. “Not capture. No.”

  “To kill it then? They are paying you to do that?”

  “As I said, I am forbidden to discuss the details of the arrangement. But we are not being paid to capture it.”

  “So you are being paid to kill it,” Abhi said.

  Something that could have been either a smile or a grimace crossed Takenaka’s face. The scar on his face seemed to grow larger.

  Carrie rubbed her forehead. “But why would Alpinus Biofutures want this thing dead? The United Nations already revoked their contract. It doesn’t add up.”

  Takenaka’s expression turned sly. “The only thing I care about adding up is the money. And now, we get a nice bonus for helping you. You need a poison gland from this fish, yes?”

  Carrie nodded. “Yes. Although I don’t know that fish is the right term, exactly.”

  “Does it need to be alive when you take this gland?”

  “No.”

  “Then we can help you. There is no one better qualified.”

  Carrie realized that, despite his expression and gruff way of speaking, Takenaka was trying to put them at ease. She also realized that he had just confirmed, at least indirectly, what she and Abhi had guessed, and in a way that didn’t violate the terms of his non-disclosure agreement. She was impressed.

  “What exactly are your qualifications, Captain?”

  “I am a mercenary. These days, I know the term is … how do you say it? Private security professional? I never liked that term. It was invented by the same men who invented non-disclosure agreements, I think. I fight for money.”

  “But how does being a soldier of fortune qualify you for this particular mission?”

  His expression turned sour again. “Before I became this, I was a whaler for many years.”

  “A whale hunter? Isn’t that illegal now?”

  “It is now, except for scientific purposes. It was not when my father did it. And not when I started. I grew up in Osabe. Always, the people there were poor, except for the fishermen, and especially the whalers. So, I became a whaler, like my father. When they imposed the moratorium on commercial whaling in 1986, there was no more money to be made. Now, in Osabe, the only jobs are pouring concrete for the seawall they are building to keep out the tsunamis. There is no more whali
ng. No more fishing of any kind. So, I became a mercenary instead. It is better wages. Plus, my children do not hate me if I kill a pirate or a sex trafficker, like they do if I slaughter a whale. They want to be friends with the whales. I blame cartoons.”

  Carrie nodded again, unsure of how to respond. Abhi made a point of watching the crew bustle about.

  “You may go up to the bridge,” Takenaka told them. “Make yourselves comfortable. I must see to preparations before we raise anchor and get underway. Then, we will find your fish.”

  He walked away, laughing humorlessly. They watched him go. Carrie shook her head.

  “He’s … something.”

  “Aye,” Abhi agreed. “He is something alright. Let’s just hope he’s right about that thing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That we find it before it finds us.”

  There was a sudden commotion overhead. Carrie and Abhi both glanced up at the sky, in time to see a massive flock of seabirds, all heading inland and traveling fast. The noise they made was deafening. Even the mercenaries were momentarily distracted, all staring skyward as the squawking mass swooped by, blocking out the fading sunlight. Dollops of white excrement splattered the ship and the dock as they passed. A few unlucky sailors were also targeted.

  “My God,” Abhi gasped. “I’ve never seen so many birds at once. Not in all my years at sea. What could they be doing?”

  “I don’t know,” Carrie admitted. “It’s not a migration pattern. It’s almost as if they’re fleeing something.”

  Abhi stared at her, and then back up at the birds.

  “I need a drink,” he murmured as the flock was swallowed up by the dark.

  * * *

  They were barely two and a half miles out of port when the trouble started. The moon was just a dim sliver in the sky, and they sailed in blackness—the surrounding sea a rhythmically churning mass of shadows that seemed to envelop the ship. Takenaka had posted watchmen along the upper deck, and each was armed with a variety of weapons, ranging from antique whaling harpoons to fully automatic AR-15s and Chinese-made SKS’s. All of the sailors seemed to speak English, or at least enough of it to get by, which made sense, given the number of nationalities onboard the vessel. They most likely needed to rely on one common language to effectively communicate. But during the time it had taken to get underway, she’d heard snatches of Portuguese, Creole, Hindi, Russian, Pashtun, Somali, Vietnamese, French, and various accents ranging from Australian to Welsh to America’s Deep South. They truly were an international crew.

  Carrie and Abhi occupied the bridge, along with the captain and a half-dozen sailors, watching pensively as the vessel slipped through the darkness.

  “I was told this fish can interfere with electronic equipment?” Takenaka asked.

  “Yes,” Carrie confirmed. “Electronics and living things, both. I’m not sure how, although I suspect it emits some sort of neurotoxins. The effect is also based on the target’s proximity. The closer the person or electronics are to the web of neurotoxins, the better the chances of a disruption.”

  “We are up high enough,” the captain proclaimed. “This is no little boat. Our equipment is beyond this web.”

  “I hope so,” Abhi agreed.

  Takenaka clapped him on the back. “We are, little man. Come, let me show you.”

  He guided Abhi over to a bank of equipment. Carrie suppressed a giggle as Abhi glanced over his shoulder and mouthed “little man” to her. He had at least three-inches height on the rumpled ex-whaler. She followed after them, still grinning. They stopped behind a sailor who was hunched over the sonar.

  “You see?” Takenaka gestured. “Everything is working fine.”

  “Captain?” The sailor did not look up from the sonar, but his voice was tense. “I’ve got something.”

  “What is it?”

  “I … I’m not sure.”

  Scowling, Takenaka leaned over the sonar operator and glowered at the screen. The backlight seemed to illuminate the scar on his face. Abhi and Carrie stepped closer, standing on tiptoe to catch a glimpse. When Carrie finally did, her breath caught in her throat.

  Two massive shapes were hurtling toward the ship from the direction of the collapse. She couldn’t judge their speed, but it was clear they were closing quickly.

  “A school of fish, maybe?” the sailor suggested.

  Without looking away from the screen, Takenaka raised his hand as if to strike the younger man. The sonar operator flinched, and backed farther away. Then, the captain turned to Carrie.

  “A school of fish, alright. Two of them. Two big fishies. I thought there was only one?”

  “I did, too,” Carrie murmured.

  “Well, you were wrong. This is unfortunate. If I had known there were two, I would have demanded more money.”

  Muttering in Japanese, Takenaka returned to the helm and grabbed a handset. He keyed the mic, and a squeal of electronic feedback echoed across the ship.

  “Attention all hands, attention all hands. This is the captain speaking. General quarters, general quarters. This is not a drill. We have multiple targets approaching. All hands man your battle stations, on the double. I repeat, muster with weapons at your stations. Let’s go to work. That is all.”

  The ship erupted with activity as hatches slammed open with metallic clangs and crewmen emerged from the decks below, hurrying to various positions on the main deck. Carrie and Abhi drew aside as the captain stalked the bridge, barking out orders to the other sailors.

  “I don’t understand,” Abhi whispered. “The only time it left the trench before was when we had the egg. We’re nowhere near the trench yet. And now there are two of these things?”

  “Apparently,” Carrie replied. “There’s a mommy and a daddy.”

  “And we kidnapped their baby. That’s just wonderful.”

  Carrie nodded, feeling a surprising sense of remorse.

  “But why would they stray so far from the collapse?” Abhi asked.

  “They’ve learned some things about us. If I had to guess, I’d say the creature—creatures—have no intention of letting any boats back into their turf. They’re defending their territory. Their hunting ground and nest. They see us as just another predator. A boat came into their territory and stole one of their offspring. Now, a second boat is approaching. They don’t intend to let that happen again.”

  “Shit…”

  “Exactly,” Carrie agreed. “We’re going to have to warn the authorities. They need to shut down all traffic in these waters—commercial and private. And we’ll have to make certain the research flotilla doesn’t come anywhere near here until this situation is fully resolved.”

  Abhi’s eyes widened in apprehension. “If these things are bringing the fight to us—if they’ve figured that out—then what else have they learned about us?”

  “I think we’re about to find out.”

  “Okay, men,” Takenaka said over the intercom. “It’s time to earn your pay. Let’s do this like professionals, collect our money, and then we can all go home and spend it.”

  A chorus of cheers went up across the outer decks of the ship. Sailors raised boathooks, harpoons, and rifles in the air, cheering.

  “Captain!” The sonar operator sounded frightened. “They’re almost on us.”

  “Location?”

  “One portside and the other aft.”

  “Distance?”

  “Portside, three hundred meters and closing. Aft, four hundred meters … no, wait … three fifty. Jesus, these things are fast!”

  Grinning, Takenaka hung up the microphone and turned to Abhi and Carrie.

  “You will both stay here on the bridge, where you are safe. I can’t be responsible for you if you venture outside. Yes?”

  Abhi nodded. “Sounds good to me!”

  “Two hundred meters,” the sonar operator called. “One hundred fifty! Get ready!”

  “Anderson?” Takenaka turned to Carrie.

  Carrie s
hrugged. “You’re the captain.”

  The ex-whaler’s grin grew broader. “No, I am the hunter.”

  He turned and strutted off the deck, slamming the hatch shut behind him.

  Sighing, Abhi leaned against the bulkhead. “I’ll bet he’s fun at parties.”

  * * *

  Things escalated quickly as the pair of creatures attacked the large vessel in perfect unison. Carrie and Abhi watched from the bridge as the massive shapes emerged from the ocean, water streaming down their forms. Without the sun as a deterrent, they were much less cautionary than before. Despite this, Carrie still couldn’t get a clear look at their structure because of the pervasive darkness. She caught only glimpses as spotlights flashed over their bulk. Pressed up to the window, she pushed her fist against the glass in frustration.

  Despite their proximity, the ship’s electronics still seemed to be functioning normally. The same could not be said of the mercenary crew. While only minutes earlier they had been cheering with bravado, now, most of them stood motionless, gaping in horror as the sea vomited up these monstrosities, the likes of which none had ever seen before. These men were used to fighting other men, Carrie realized. The foes they now faced were something else entirely.

  Dozens of black-and-brown tentacles burst from the water. They varied in size, from the circumference of a sewer pipe to no thicker than an extension cord. As the swiveling spotlights trailed over them, Carrie noticed that some of the tentacles were lined with suckers, while others were not. As the night exploded with rifle fire and muzzle flashes, the flailing appendages whipped across the main deck, seizing anything they came in contact with. One curled around the antenna mast, and with a tremendous yank, snapped it off. Debris plummeted to the deck, sending sailors scrambling out of the way. Metal barrels, gear lockers, and even a mop were snatched up by the questing tendrils and yanked into the black ocean.

  Abhi’s hand fell on her shoulder, clutching.

  “Oh my God,” he moaned.

  Carrie followed his terrified gaze and gasped. A helpless mercenary struggled and kicked, hovering ten feet off the deck, caught in the grip of a thrashing tentacle. Shrieking, he punched it ineffectually as it hauled him overboard.