Undersea

by Geoffrey Morrison

  The entire Council, save one. A wave of guilt and pain washed over him, but he fought it back down, such was its familiarity. During his walk to the meeting, a few paces behind the rushing assistant, he hoped Ralla’s father wouldn’t be there. On that, at least, he was lucky.

  The rest of the Council—plus Cern, Thom was almost amused to see—was seated at the black glass table, and all eyes turned to him as he entered.

  “I was told you were uninjured in your escape,” Jills asked, looking genuinely surprised. Thom’s eyes had already started to blacken, his nose was taped, and there were lacerations down the side of his face.

  “I fell,” Thom replied. After a moment of silence while they waited for him to elaborate, he looked around for a place to sit. An assistant appeared, as if decloaking from the wall, and wheeled him over a chair. He sat at the end of the long table, facing Jills, in the spot normally reserved for the Captain. Cern was at Jills’ left, and if he felt shame or regret for the damage done, he didn’t show it.

  “The Captain briefed us this morning,” Jills started. “But we would like to hear it again from you. Please don’t take this as a trial of any sort. Dr. Gattley backs up your story to the extent she can remember it.”

  Thom told them step-by-step what had transpired, every detail he could remember. The firefight at the end he told in exacting detail, including what Ralla had mouthed to him as he was pulled away. He left out his reply.

  “Mr. Vargas... sorry, I guess Lieutenant Vargas is more accurate,” Jills began. “I have no doubt the decision you made concerning our Councilmember and her mother will be a difficult one for you to live with. I have decided, against the judgment of several elder Councilmembers, to allow you to stay and hear Awbee Gattley’s report regarding her work of recent months. Then you will at least understand why Ralla chose her mother’s life over her own.”

  Jills motioned to one of the assistants, who left the room and returned a few moments later with Awbee. Despite a cast that covered her entire left leg, she looked ready, willing, and able to throw Thom and everyone else out the window. Thom slid his chair aside, and another was brought for Awbee. While she looked at everyone in the room with contempt, Thom saw her eyes narrow as they fell on Jills and the wiry and oddly silent Larr.

  “Mrs. Gattley...” Jills started.

  “Doctor,” she corrected flatly. He ignored her.

  “I get regular reports from you and your team, and the Science sub-council and I have, to this point, kept them secret. Your, shall we say, colorful...”

  “Vehement.”

  “...disagreement with that decision is a matter of record, one that will be irrelevant soon. Your most recent reports are exciting to a degree that I don’t think should be kept from the people of the Universalis. For those here not on the Science sub-council, and our invited guests,” Jills said with a nod towards Thom, “please tell us of your work, from the beginning.”

  Awbee remained agitated for a moment, but as she collected her thoughts, she seemed to calm. Her tone of voice changed, like she was teaching a class of young students.

  “Our world, such as it is, has two problems: One of water, and one of radiation. The impact spread radiation over much of the globe. What didn’t spread from the initial impact was circulated by the wind. It would have killed everything on the surface within a few months, had it all not been dead already by problem number one. The asteroid, despite our best efforts to knock it off course, hit at the very roof of our world, instantly vaporizing all the ice and snow there. What the floods didn’t take care of, the endless rain did, and that’s how we ended up down here.

  “I tell you all of this,” she continued. “Because I know what kind of science grades some of you got,” she said, looking at Larr, “and I want us all to be on the same page for the rest of this. There wasn’t much research done post-impact. Everyone was either dead or trying to get to whatever safety they thought would work. What we’ve determined, using methods I’ll get into in a moment, is that the impact didn’t significantly alter our orbit or rotation. So with time, the ice caps will reform, the waters will recede, and eventually there will be land again.”

  Awbee was about to continue, then paused when she noticed what was to her a rather mundane fact was obviously a bombshell to the rest of the room.

  “At the current rate we’re seeing in our tests, this will take around 30 years. Though, that’s not our only problem. The radiation from morons like you trying to knock the big rock out of the sky flooded our world with something else. The scientists of the day estimated the fallout wouldn’t last for more than 20 years. They were wrong.”

  Awbee seemed to be enjoying being the center of attention and was really getting into her presentation.

  “My lab, what I hope won’t be my former lab, was perched over one of the deepest trenches on our world. My team and I could take infinite samples from any depth all the way down to the bottom, and all the way up to the surface. We did this so we could compare ‘old’ water and ‘new’ water. What I mean by that is the water at the bottom of Grengen is relatively stagnant. The currents are slow, so the water there has been there for a while. By comparison, the currents near the surface are such that any given molecule of H2O could travel around the world in just a few months. The fact is, there’s still a lot of radiation on the surface and in clouds above. But here’s the thing: it’s decreasing.”

  “How quickly?” Jills asked.

  “Very. We could see livable levels of radiation within ten years. Negligible amounts in another five after that.”

  “I’m sorry, are you saying we could be living on the surface in 15 years?” Thom blurted out. He expected to be chastised for overstepping his bounds, but from what he could tell, most were glad he asked what was on their minds.

  “If everything continues as it is, yes. And possibly on some tiny speck of mud within another 15 after that,” she replied.

  Larr had been silent and still the entire meeting, but now he leaned forward and looked right at Awbee.

  “Is there a way to... accelerate this process?” he asked.

  Jills simultaneously raised his left hand to stop Awbee from answering, and placed his right on Larr’s arm.

  “Thank you, all,” Jills said, rising to his feet. “We will keep you informed of further developments. For now, if you would like to tell your constituents there is a chance we’ll be living on the surface in our lifetimes, that would be fine. But do not give them details or specific deadlines.”

  The Councilmembers thanked Awbee as they left the room. She remained seated, as did Larr. Thom had no sooner stepped out of the chambers than Cern stepped out behind him and grabbed his arm, leading him forcefully down the hallway.

  “You know, I was going in this direction already,” Thom said. The grip tightened. When he saw their destination, he didn’t try to fight, but he did get a bottoming out feeling in his stomach. The door opened, and it was worse than he imagined.

  Ralla didn’t think it was possible, but the crowd compacted itself even more so that the new arrivals, herself included, had a place to sit. Aisles had been maintained, so some of her group wandered through the crowd in search of familiar faces. A young woman seated near the door, a tech from the looks of her uniform, wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked a little. She looked at Ralla.

  “They do feed us, once in the morning, once at night. Vegetable paste, mostly. There’s not a lot of it, but it’s something. There’s water and bathrooms in the corner over there,” she said, pointing with a tilt of her head.

  Ralla looked where she had indicated and saw a few dividers and a pair of water fountains. Both had long lines. There were at least 3,000 people in this one room.

  “Are there other rooms like this?”

  The tech shrugged her shoulders.

  “Can’t say. There were 2,000 people in my dome, and I’ve only seen a few people I know. I hope they’re all right, wherever they are.”

  “Hasn’t
anyone tried to overpower the guards. There were only a few that brought us in.”

  The tech looked on the verge of crying, and her eyes darted to a nearby cot with a blanket covered shape.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...”

  The tech shook her head, and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. She continued to rock a bit.

  “My name is Ralla.”

  “Dija. Dija Yunner. I’m a Technician 1st Class in Dome F511.”

  “A tech in an F dome. What did you do there?”

  “Repaired the farm equipment, mostly.”

  Ralla smiled at her, and Dija smiled back. Ralla extended her hand, and the other woman looked at it for a moment, released her knees from her own grip, and shook Ralla’s hand.

  “What do you do, Ralla?”

  “I recently took over my father’s business.”

  “Oh.” Dija said, then looked unsatisfied when no further explanation followed.

  “I’ll tell you, I could really use a shower,” Ralla said with a smile.

  “I like your dress,” Dija replied.

  “My dress thinks I could really use a shower.”

  That did it. Dija smiled a big smile, and seemed to forget about the room, the ship, the world around her for the barest of moments.

  “Di, I’m going to go have a look around. Will you watch my stuff? Don’t want all the riff-raff coming by and stealing all my nice furniture.”

  Dija smiled wider and nodded.

  The room only had two doors that weren’t barricaded, each attended by two guards. As she passed one, the door opened, and she saw several more well armed goons outside. Looking up, she noticed a few missing ceiling tiles (spy holes maybe, should couldn’t tell). She didn’t see anyone she knew, which was probably a good thing for now, and after doing a full loop she ended up back at her spot with Dija.

  “Some guy tried to steal your dresser, but I beat him with a stick and he ran away,” Dija said with a bit of a forced laugh. Ralla smiled back and slumped into the tiny little spot she was already starting to think of as her own. The people around her and Dija were either sleeping or just lying down for lack of anything better to do. It smelled of humanity.

  The room was much as he saw it last, though the man in the bed was a fraction of who he used to be. Mrakas Gattley was limp as a nurse attempted to pull him upright in the bed. The old man’s eyes burned as he saw Thom.

  “You couldn’t have had the decency to tell me yourself?” he bellowed. His voice filled the room. “Don’t stand there staring at your feet like a child, get over here.”

  Thom did as instructed. Cern followed, and took a seat by the balcony as the nurse left the cabin.

  “Well, I can see someone gave you a good working over,” Mrakas said, his eyes falling from Thom to Cern. Thom tried to explain what had happened, but Mrakas stopped him.

  “The fact of the matter is, you left my daughter with them. And because I’m stuck in this damn bed and can’t do anything about it, you will. I don’t care how you do it. But you must do it.” He meant this as a statement, but there was a tinge of pleading in it as well. Thom was caught off guard. The thought had never occurred to him that he would be in a position to fix the problem he helped create.

  “Cern is temporarily sitting in on the Council in Ralla’s absence. He is going to convince the Council that a rescue mission is required. The details of which can be worked out after you get their permission. They’ll understandably question his motives. They all know his relationship with Ralla; that’s why he’s there. So it will fall to you to convince them that getting her back by force is possible, and that you’re the natural choice to lead the assault.”

  “Me? This week was the first time I’ve ever fired a weapon at anybody.”

  “Congratulations, you have more combat experience than every marine on this boat, and you’ve been on the Pop, something else that makes you uniquely qualified. We’ll make sure you have the best team we can muster, but it’s up to you.”

  “I can brief them on what they need to do. I don’t need to be there.”

  “So they can get in harm’s way to clean up your mess. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “No, I’m not...”

  “Thom,” the old man interjected. He shot a glance at Cern, who stood and left the room without a word. Mrakas’ demeanor changed dramatically: he softened, letting his age and illness show. “I need you to do this. There is no way the Council will sanction a mission to get back one person. They have no interest, and most of them never liked me or my daughter to begin with. You and Cern are the only two that can convince the Council that this isn’t madness, and you’re the only one mad enough to actually make it work. Cern is a good man, but despite his looks, he’s quite soft.”

  Thom resisted the urge to touch his face.

  “I see a fighter in you Thom,” Mrakas continued. “I see the potential for greatness. Had you been born up-bulkhead, you’d be where Cern is now. Probably higher. You’ve handled every challenge I’ve put in front of you—all except bringing my daughter home safely, and to be fair, I only asked you to bring my wife back. But you can do this, Thom. You need to do this. Get my daughter back. Go to the Pop and bring her back. If she’s not there, tear the seas apart until you find her. But whatever you do, find her.”

  Thom let those words rattle around for a bit as he drifted towards the Council chambers. Cern was waiting outside. Thom let the silence between then grow nearly intolerable before breaking it.

  “I would have hit you too.”

  That seemed to do it, and Cern relaxed a little.

  “Cern, let me try something.”

  The Councilmembers filed back in and took their seats while Thom remained standing.

  “Thank you for hearing me again and on such short notice. I have some understanding of our situation here. The buildup of our fleet and personnel is going slower than we’d hoped, and I can assume the Population continues to strike and occupy our mining and farming domes throughout the hemisphere.” Thom saw a few subtle nods and kept going. “I have been thinking for a few weeks now of a plan that could delay the Pop, hopefully long enough for us to get up to full strength.”

  “Go on, Lieutenant Vargas,” Larr said, legitimately interested.

  “In the time I spent on the Pop, I saw enough to lead me to believe the sub would be extremely susceptible to sabotage. A few well-placed explosives would be enough to cripple the vessel, at least temporarily.”

  “And who would plant them?” Jills said, his tone neutral.

  “I was able to get aboard the Pop once, I see no reason I couldn’t do it again. Given some of the equipment I’ve seen being developed down below, I imagine it would be easy for me and a small team to sneak aboard, plant explosives, and get back out before anyone knew we were there.”

  “Does this have something to do with the... disappearance of Ms. Gattley?” one of the other Councilmembers asked. Thom didn’t know his name.

  “Insomuch as it’s motivated me to bring my plan to your attention. The enemy is obviously getting bolder, and it’s only a matter of time before we’re discovered either by chance or on purpose. We need to put them out of the game long enough to build up our defenses.” Thom stood tall, felt himself puff out his chest a little, only to be deflated by the throbbing ache of his face and the loose tooth his tongue couldn’t help but pester.

  Jills deliberated for a few minutes, and without consulting the Council said, “Coordinate with the marines for equipment and whatever men you need. Keep in mind, Lieutenant: I want every precaution taken. They must not find their way back to us should you be discovered. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you still wish to proceed?”

  “Yes, only because I don’t think it will be as risky as you think. Getting onboard will be fairly simple. Getting back out again, presuming we have the right equipment, will be just as easy. I’m not suicidal, Proctor Jills. I believe I can do this.
”

  “Then work out the details and report back to me. We’ll proceed from there.”

  “Proctor Jills, I would like to request to be a part of Lieutenant Vargas’ team,” Cern said placing both hands on the table.

  “No. Thank you, Thom. Please start your preparations.”

  Cern, startled, looked about to object, but it was clear Jills had ended the discussion. The meeting broke up as quickly as it started.

  As Thom waited for the elevator down to the marine barracks, Cern caught up with him.

  “That was pretty impressive back there. Were you really working on that plan for the past few weeks?”

  “Of course I wasn’t.”

  VII

  It had been two days and Ralla could tell the tension in the room had built to a peak. What must have been squalid conditions weeks ago grew only worse as new prisoners were added to the mix twice a day. Groups started to congeal out of the crowd. Voices were raised. Angry glances were aimed at the guards. It wasn’t long before the number of visible guards doubled. Then tripled. When soldiers came with food the next morning, the air was thick with the potential violence as people shoved their way towards the vats of gruel.

  That evening, the guards with food came with shocksticks, and tapped out anyone who got too animated. This had the opposite effect as was surely intended. After the soldiers left, people became apoplectic. Ralla and Dija watched as a shoving match ensued. The tension was palpable, even among those too weak or too scared to get involved.

  “I wish they would calm down,” Dija said, sounding terrified. She had tucked her knees into her chest, and had resumed rocking. “I wish... I wish someone would say something.” She rocked harder, gripping her legs so tightly that her fingers went white.

  When the fight broke out, Ralla didn’t see who threw the first punch. Fists flew, people tripped over others, who quickly joined the brawl in agitation. The fight spread like fire through the room. Ralla watched in horror as the guards fled, sealing the doors behind them. Dija buried her head between her knees and rocked violently as the room devolved into full-blown riot.