Dead in the Water_A Space Team Universe Novel

by Barry J. Hutchison

  “How do you know?” Ollie asked.

  Finn shrugged. “I picked up a few things from my cousin,” he said, then he pointed to something that wasn’t there. “Also, there’s no sail.”

  Ollie regarded the empty space, then smiled at him. “Right,” she said, her pink skin reddening at the cheeks. “That’s… You’re so clever.”

  Finn beamed back at her. “Thanks. So are you.”

  Artur rolled his eyes. “Oh for feck’s… A little sail or whatever, I think you’ll find I said,” he retorted, then he turned back to Ollie. “Anyway, the point is it’s not technically stealing on account of that lot all being insufferable arseholes and deserving whatever the feck they get. D’ye understand?”

  Ollie looked at the boat. She regarded the cities above her. “Not really,” she admitted.

  “We’re borrowing it. How about that, then?” Artur asked. “Does that make ye feel better, if we say we’ll take it back?”

  “Uh, maybe. Yeah. I guess,” said Ollie.

  “OK, then!” said Artur. He leaned over to where Ollie’s hand was resting on the bench beside him and patted her on the finger. “You just tell yerself that.”

  Up front, Dan stood behind the yacht’s controls, trying to act like he knew what he was doing. He’d been on a few boats before, mostly back in his Tribunal days, but he’d never driven one, and those he’d been on hadn’t been anything like this.

  The controls seemed to be motion-guided. Move your hands a certain way and the yacht moved forward. Shift them just a fraction and it changed direction. After a few false starts, some creative swearing, and twenty minutes with the instruction manual, he felt like he might finally be starting to get the hang of the basics. He also felt like he might capsize them at any moment, which was less encouraging.

  Glowing green spots clung to the tips of his fingers, growing brighter or fainter depending on how he moved his hands. Pushing them forward made the boat move faster and the lights more vibrant. Easing back slowed them down and dimmed the lights to a dim glow.

  That was easy enough to grasp. But what happened if he moved his hands suddenly sideways? Or pushed one forward and one back? Or raised them above his head? The fear of suddenly flipping the whole fonking yacht into the air was almost paralyzing, and if Dan could sweat, his shirt would’ve been sticking to his back by now.

  The bewildering array of dials and readouts weren’t helping. They were mostly green, but occasionally one would flash red for reasons not made clear. When that happened, Dan made some imperceptible movements with various fingers until whatever had turned red turned green again.

  The yacht plowed on over the waves – ‘over’ being the operative word. Unlike the other vessels they’d seen at the dock, this one hovered just above the surface on a cushion of light. The lazy hum the light gave off was the only sound from the boat itself, although the whistling wind was more than making up for that.

  “You sure you don’t want me to drive?” Finn asked.

  “No. I got it,” said Dan. “We’re not going far.”

  “Because I could, if you wanted,” Finn said. “I know a lot about boats.”

  Dan shot him a glare. Even this little movement shifted the boat’s direction a fraction and made three different displays flash angrily, so he faced front again.

  “I got it. It’s fine.”

  Finn nodded and gazed out through the transparent canopy at the unending ocean ahead. “You don’t trust me, do you, brah?”

  “I don’t trust anyone, kid,” Dan told him. “But yeah, you’re way down the list. And I might trust you more if you stop calling me ‘brah.’”

  “And I might stop calling you ‘brah’ if you stop calling me ‘kid,’ brah.”

  Dan’s eyes darted sideways, briefly regarded Finn, then flicked back to the front. “I’ll consider it.”

  Finn puffed out his cheeks, clicked his fingers a few times, then shrugged. “OK, well if you don’t need me, I might go and sit with Ollie.”

  Dan stiffened.

  “That’s OK with you, right? If I go sit back there?”

  “Actually, you know what?” Dan said. “You can take a turn at the… lights.”

  Finn managed to look both pleased and utterly crushed at the same time. “Oh. Really?”

  “Sure,” said Dan. “Why not? It pretty much drives itself. What’s the worst that could…”

  Roughly fifty percent of the yacht’s readouts turned red. Several of them began to flash. The words ‘PROXIMITY ALERT’ scrolled across the transparent canopy like a news ticker.

  “What’s that all about?” Dan wondered, then a shout from Artur shone some light on the situation.

  “What in the name of all that is fecking holy is that?” he cried, pointing out at the ocean on the ship’s starboard side.

  No, not at the ocean, Dan realized, at the thing in the ocean.

  Its mouth was a vast sphincter of a thing, lined all around with spear-like teeth, and big enough to swallow the boat whole. A series of interlocking armored frills ran from the top of its head and down its snake-like back, and three gelatinous yellow eyes glinted demonically at either side of its face, roughly where its ears might reasonably have been expected to be.

  The occupants of the yacht had just a moment or two to take in all these details before the thing slid beneath the waves again without so much as a splash.

  “Was that it? Was that yer toilet monster?” asked Artur.

  “No. That wasn’t it,” Dan said. “That’s something else.”

  The vast majority of the planet Parloo was covered by ocean, only a fraction of which had ever been explored. While the land-dwelling Parloo natives – the Parlooqs – were a tediously slow-moving and dim-witted species who had positively welcomed centuries of invasion and oppression, the water-dwelling locals were far less passive.

  Nobody really knew what lurked out there beneath Parloo’s oceans but based on countless reports from fishermen – not to mention the lack of reports from those who never returned to dock – most of it was either A) huge, B) fonking horrible, or C) both.

  Whatever had just buzzed the yacht was definitely A, and despite no real evidence Dan was prepared to guess it would tick off B and C, too.

  “What was it?” Ollie whispered.

  “Nothing to worry about,” Dan said.

  “Ye what? Have ye lost yer fecking mind or something? Did ye see the size of the bastard? And the teeth on it? Holy shoite, the teeth!”

  Dan sighed. “I was trying to reassure the kid.”

  “Oh,” said Artur. He cleared his throat, then patted Ollie on the hand again. “I mean, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Should we go back?” Finn asked.

  “Before that thing swallows the whole fecking boat with us on it, ye mean?” said Artur. He smiled up at Ollie. “Again, Peaches, nothing to worry about. That was just a figure of speech.”

  There was a thud beneath the boat, shuddering everyone on board.

  “We’re all going to die,” Artur whimpered.

  “Maybe we should cut the engines?” Finn suggested.

  “And leave us stuck out here?” Dan scowled.

  “Just until it goes away. Maybe the light’s attracting it.”

  Dan didn’t like to admit that the kid had a point, but the kid had a point.

  But still.

  “We can outrun it,” Dan said. “This thing practically flies. No way it can keep up.”

  The yacht rocked again, more violently this time. Artur rolled along the bench, bounced once, and was only saved from being flung overboard by a frantic grab from Ollie that almost made his eyes pop out.

  “For feck’s sake, Deadman, whatever ye’re doing, ye’d better do it fast!” he wheezed. “Oh, and thanks, Peaches,” he added, kissing her on her thumb. “I mean, ye squeezed me ‘til I explosively shoited meself, but it’s still appreciated.”

  The ocean frothed behind the boat. Ollie screamed and Artur cursed as t
wo slimy green feelers snaked up over the stern, wriggling and squirming as they explored.

  “Deaaaaadmaaaaan!” Artur hollered. “Get us the feck out of here!”

  Dan thrust both hands all the way forward until green light encased them all the way to the wrists. The boat’s response was almost instantaneous. It shot through the water like a torpedo, the sudden burst of acceleration almost catapulting everyone backward into the water.

  Flailing his arms out to steady himself, Dan sent the yacht into a surprisingly graceful spin. On the third or fourth rotation they all caught a glimpse of that tooth-filled sphincter mouth rising from the water, then Dan bellowed at everyone to “Hold on,” and shoved his hands forward again, albeit a little more gradually than last time.

  The humming of the yacht rose in pitch and volume as it streaked across the waves, heading straight for the horizon. The city was still clearly visible in the distance behind them. Dan knew if he didn’t keep it in sight they might never find it again. But, on the other hand, they were being chased by a huge fonking sea monster, and charging straight on at full speed gave them their best shot at outrunning it.

  He hoped.

  “Is it still there? Can you see it?” Dan hollered.

  “It’s gone back under,” Ollie said, scanning the surface behind them.

  “No sign,” Artur confirmed. He was still clutched in Ollie’s hand, and while he still appreciated the save, it’d be nice if she stopped squeezing him whenever she was startled. The cleaning bill for these cream slacks was already going to be through the roof, and every ounce of pressure around his midsection was only making it worse.

  “Get up here,” Dan told her. “Both of you. Get up to the front.”

  “On a boat it’s called ‘the bow,’” Finn told him.

  “Well, on this one it’s called ‘the front’. Now shut the fonk up and give them a hand.”

  Finn shuffled back along the deck. It was sloping downward, the front of the boat raised a little as it powered on across the waves.

  Reaching the end of the covered area, Finn took hold of the edge of the canopy and steadied himself. Stretching, he held a hand out to Ollie. “Grab on,” he instructed.

  The ship’s speed fought against Ollie as she tried to stand, shoving her back toward the lowered stern. She flopped back onto the bench and yelped as the air was knocked out of her. Artur grimaced and concluded that, on balance, his pants were probably now ruined.

  Dropping to her knees, Ollie crawled up the incline until she could reach Finn’s hand. He caught her by the arm, his powerful fingers wrapping all the way around her wrist. He pulled while she clambered, and Artur sighed with relief when they were safely under the canopy.

  “Are you OK?” Finn asked, gazing into Ollie’s wide and frantic eyes.

  “She’s fine,” Dan said.

  “Can ye seal us in here?” Artur asked. “Is there, ye know, like a magic door ye can close, or something?”

  “Don’t know. Check the manual, kid,” Dan instructed.

  “Sure thing, brah.”

  Before Finn could reach for the doorstep-sized instruction book, the warning on the canopy display blinked out. Several of the red displays turned amber, fluctuated between the two for a few seconds, then became a soft, soothing green.

  “That’s good, right?” said Ollie. “Does that mean it’s gone?”

  Finn turned and searched the ocean on all sides. “I can’t see anything,” he said. He exhaled and broke into a wide smile, then patted Dan on the shoulder. “It’s gone. Looks like you lost it, brah.”

  Dan’s neck creaked as he turned to look at the hand on his shoulder. He let his stare linger there for a while, before raising his gaze in Finn’s direction. “Let’s not get cocky, kid,” he warned.

  The yacht slowed as Dan eased his hands back.

  “Why are we slowing down? Should we be slowing down?” Ollie asked. “I don’t think we should be slowing down.”

  “We need to turn around,” Dan explained. “If we lose sight of the city we could be stuck out here forever. We’ve got no food or water.”

  “And I’ve shoite meself,” Artur added.

  Dan opened his mouth as if about to ask for an explanation, but then shook his head as he concluded he probably didn’t want to know.

  “I reckon we head over that way for a few miles,” he said, nodding to the boat’s starboard side. “Then, assuming nothing else tries to eat us, we head back to land.”

  There was a general murmuring of agreement from everyone but Ollie. She bit her lip and looked out to sea. “But what about the thing that killed Banbara? That’s the whole point of us being out here.”

  “Look at it. Look at the size of this ocean,” Dan said. “No way we’re finding anything out here.”

  “And sure, ye saw what the neighbors are like, Peaches,” Artur said. “Spikes or no spikes, yer toilet monster won’t stand a chance out here with things like that swimming around. Sure, I bet it’s already been eaten by something big and ugly. And no, I wasn’t talking about ye there, Deadman, I meant a fish.”

  Ollie smiled, relaxing a little. “I guess you’re probably right.”

  “Of course I’m right. I’m always right,” Artur said. “Now let’s turn around, get back to land, smash this boat to pieces out of sheer bloody-minded spite, and – dare I say it? – all go have ourselves a drink in the closest available pub.” He raised his bushy eyebrows at everyone in general. “Any objections?”

  A single display flickered amber. It lasted just a moment, but the atmosphere aboard the yacht, which had been creeping in the direction of ‘almost jovial’ changed instantly. Breath was held. Lips were bitten. Bowels were evacuated.

  “Too tight. Too tight,” Artur wheezed.

  All readouts were green again, but Dan lowered his voice to a whisper, just in case. “I’m going to start us moving again,” he said.

  And then the boat was buffeted on a sudden wave and the console ignited in a wave of flashing red warning lights.

  The thing rose straight up out of the water ahead of them, its shizzhole-like maw opening and closing, its elongated teeth turning outward and gnashing at the air.

  “Oh… fonk,” Dan groaned, leaning back to take in the monster’s full height. It towered thirty or forty feet above the surface, revealing that its snake-like body was merely a snake-like neck. Only a suggestion of its torso was visible through the churning ocean foam, but it was enough to give the impression of something hugely, stupidly, impossibly big.

  Dan stared. Ollie screamed. Artur soiled himself, only without any external pressure this time.

  Finn fell suddenly forward, throwing up his hands and grunting as he was slammed against the boat’s deck. “What the fonk? Get it off!” he cried, kicking out at a slimy tendril that had wriggled up over the port side and ensnared him by the ankle.

  He grabbed for the deck, fingers splayed, nails digging into the rough flooring. Ollie moved to help him, but too late. A sudden yank flicked him into the air. An animal-like squeal burst from his lips as he was swung up and over the side of the boat. He grasped at nothing but empty space as he hurtled backward.

  For a brief, all-too-fleeting moment, his eyes met Ollie’s, and then he smashed into the ocean and vanished into its watery depths.

  THIRTEEN

  “FINN!”

  Ollie’s cry carried across the rippling waves, but only the sloshing of the water and the humming of the boat replied.

  Up front, Dan had some more pressing concerns – namely the huge fonking sea monster looming above them. Its head and part of its neck were silhouetted against the blue glow of the Up There engines, making it look even more menacing than it already did. Which was really saying something.

  “Maybe if we stay very still,” Artur suggested, but then the monster’s head came crashing down toward them, its teeth spinning like the blade of a circular saw. “No, feck. Move, move, move!”

  Dan pushed and pulled simultaneously, and
the yacht careened into a frantic spin. It powered forward just as the thing’s head smashed into the water’s surface, violently rocking the boat and knocking everyone aboard off their feet. Especially Artur, who rocketed upwards, smacked against the canopy, then thudded against with floor with a “Ye bastard!”

  The monster’s yellow eyes swiveled and pulsated as its spinning teeth churned the sea into foam. It took it just a second or two to locate the boat again. Its vast neck creaked as it swung its head in the yacht’s direction.

  “Mindy, explosive rounds!” Dan barked, tearing his gun from its holster. “Everyone down!” he commanded as the chamber spun and illuminated.

  “We’re already down! Just shoot the fecking thing!” Artur hollered, but the last few words were drowned out by the scream of gunfire and the squelchy boom of an eyeball exploding.

  A spray of a yellow mucus-like gunge splattered across Ollie, but she barely noticed. Her gaze was fixed on the water, on the spot where Finn had vanished.

  “Come on, come on,” she whispered. “Where are you?”

  Dan opened fire again. This time, two rounds exploded against the monster’s teeth as it raised its head from the water. It squealed or roared, or some combination of the two. It sounded like a ship’s foghorn and the sheer volume of it flattened the squally ocean surface for a second.

  “Yeah, didn’t like that, did you?” Dan growled, opening fire again. This time, the shot rebounded off the creature’s neck, arced through the air, then hit the ocean with a hiss.

  “Don’t hit that bit,” Artur suggested. “That bit didn’t work.”

  “I noticed,” Dan snapped.

  “Aim for the eyes or the teeth.”

  “I know!” Dan said. He fired again. The monster thrashed, deflecting the shot. It hit the ocean just a few feet from the yacht’s starboard side, spraying the deck with hot water.

  “Ye weren’t aiming for the eyes and teeth!”

  “I was aiming for the eyes and teeth!” Dan insisted. “It moved.”

  “Of course, it fecking moved!” Artur roared. “Ye’re trying to shoot its face off, it’s bound to move! Ye should’ve anticipated where it was going to go. Call yerself a marksman?”