Dada. Felix want to play. Dada play with Felix.
"Soon, my boy. Very soon,” promised Norton, patting the top of the monitor affectionately.
* * * *
Left alone with his fears, Durgay did not master them but quelled his anxieties enough to no longer be frightened silly. Fretting was pointless. Najoli floated beyond his reach, yet she was safe enough within the bowels of this island of ice. Norton, alias Nupterus, was not the totally unfeeling monster image he projected. He genuinely cared for his creations, in his own cold-hearted, possessive manner. Going by Norton's demonstrations already, Durgay did not doubt for an instant that the false god could back up his claims of power with action.
The Landhoppers were in for an unpleasant surprise.
Biting off the head of a thawed out cod, Durgay overcame his dislike of defrosted fish and tucked into his newly provided snack. Fresh was better than frozen, but living inside a freezer meant everything wound up iced over.
As he chewed within his protective cage of unravelled cabling, Durgay pondered the beastly kraken. The light of life had left its huge globular eye and, true to his word, Norton kept his pet under restraint. But even sharks slept with their black eyes wide open and they had a dangerous habit of waking explosively without warning.
Made sleepy by his meal and the boredom stemming from nothing else to do but wait for Norton to notice him again, Durgay nodded off. He slumbered lightly, ready to snap instantly awake. There were lessons to be learnt from sharks.
"Time to resume our chat, Em-Two."
Durgay roused himself in response to Norton's intruding voice. “What do you want to ask of me?"
"Straight to the point. Good,” said the unseen manbot, “because time is of the essence and we can't afford to waste a single second of it. You've been to Landhopper isle."
"I was briefly their honoured guest,” Durgay admitted, making light of his capture.
"I'm aware they tortured you."
"They invited me to stay for lunch, only I declined to be the main course."
"Obviously you got away, which makes you resourceful. You'll need that sea-savvy for what I've got in mind. I'm restoring your freedom."
Durgay immediately grew chary. “As we Fishers say, “What's the catch?""
"I want you to run, or rather swim, an errand for me."
Brightened by the prospect of a return to the open ocean, Durgay's distrust wavered. “Sounds intriguing. What's involved?"
"Nothing too taxing. Delivering a rather potent gift, that's all."
The Fisher foolishly relaxed his guard completely. “Must be someplace down the coast,” he supposed, thinking he might be transporting a weapon to the resettled Cetari.
"Very perceptive of you, Em-Two. You're going to revisit the Landhoppers."
* * * *
"You have no choice. There is no other way. This you must realise."
Durgay was not sure he completely grasped what was being asked, no, demanded of him, even after Norton's explanation.
"You want me to swim into the lair of the Landhoppers and drop off a pearl,” he repeated dubiously. “It's suicidal."
"You escaped from there once before."
"That was a fluke."
"I don't care how you get away, or if you even do make it out. Your going is the only available recourse.
The pretend god had explained it thoroughly. Due to the immense distances involved, Norton required a fixture of greater intensity than mere Landhopper vileness to target his wrath upon in order to smite their accursed isle. He would concentrate that allure into a charm, likening it to an oyster pearl for Durgay's understanding. But in order for the reprisal to be most effective, it needed to be deposited on the bottom of the atoll's lagoon. The kraken was too big to accomplish this and Norton had no other mechanical pets left at his disposal capable of achieving such an ambitious penetration.
Which left only Durgay, the sole merman living and at his disposal who possessed the greatest firsthand knowledge of Harvest Shallows.
"It's such a long way to swim,” he murmured bleakly.
"I will assist you to journey there,” Norton said cryptically. “But haste is paramount. You must leave now."
"I'll go, after I take a final look upon Najoli."
"There isn't time to indulge your feelings!” Norton coldly hissed.
"I want to tell her goodbye."
"And by doing so risk your mortal enemies rising again,” argued Norton. “If they are to be destroyed by my hand, I can only do it now. Don't stuff this up, Em-Two. If you want to see the Landhoppers exterminated, you must depart quickly."
"You're sure this is the best chance?"
"This is our only chance."
Love warred with duty in Durgay's confused mind. Najoli meant the seaworld to him, but the future peace and prosperity of the Cetari seemed to rest entirely on his unworthy shoulders. In the end, destiny won out over personal happiness.
"Promise me she'll be treated like a Merprincess."
"Eff-One will be treasured. She's extremely valuable to me."
"I just want her cared for."
"Oh, she will be. I guarantee that."
For some unfathomable reason Norton's assurance bothered Durgay. But what could he do about it? Since arriving at the Ice Station his life was no longer his to manage. Norton ultimately governed the fates of all Cetari, but controlled Durgay and the others directly. He hated the thought of being parted from Najoli, of leaving her in the company of that younger merman. Still, Jumo was nearer her own age...
"The biological clock is ticking,” Norton prompted him.
Durgay, having no idea what that meant, picked up on the mounting urgency inflecting Norton's contrived voice. “So be it. Let's get underway."
Norton laughed in that mirthless, infuriating chuckle of his. “I swear you won't like what comes next."
"I haven't much liked anything of what has happened to me since finding this place."
"How do you feel about getting eaten then?"
* * * *
Sea Dog cruised out of the submarine dock and briskly cleared the hangar doors, entering the polar sea. Diving decisively to avoid iceberg entanglements, the machine inspired by and mimicking squids quickly gathered speed and depth.
And all the while Durgay was lodged sedated in its dark, dank belly like undigested food.
Showing great restraint not to personally assume piloting of the submersible, Abe Norton turned away from the console and left the view of the emptied undersea dock on the monitor screen. Sea Dog's onboard computer brain had captained the craft without incident countless times before. He would have to trust it to do so again.
But so much is at stake, and the timing for everything critical.
"Is Sea Dog getting up to speed?"
"Velocity is at fifty knots and increasing,” Dog verified. “The submersible is accelerating within operational parameters."
"That sub will have to exceed design specifications if it's going to deliver its cargo on time. Once Sea Dog clears the ice field, crank the reactor up to ninety-nine per cent capacity."
"Such power yield is dangerously high."
"But still within safety margins,” stated Norton. “I want energy output maximised without melting the reactor or frying Em-Two."
"I am sure it is his wish not to be irradiated either."
"Stop trying to crack jokes and keep supervising Sea Dog's command computer,” ordered Norton. “We can't afford to mess this up."
"The submersible may disintegrate. It has never been pushed to its maximum design speed."
"Then today is a good time to test it out. How long is it again until Sea Dog reaches the target?"
"Twenty-two point five hours."
"That'll be cutting it fine.
"I cannot predict with certainty if the satellite's instruments will detect the tracking beacon when it is in place on the atoll. It is not a spy satellite and lacks pinpoint accuracy."
"Seei
ng-eye Dog was not just a weather watcher. It was also utilised for geological surveying. It'll pick up any broad-spectrum ground metal. At least I hope it will, once you patch up its wonky sensor array."
"You have calculated flight time for the missile?"
"Ten, fifteen minutes at most to the target from here."
"Felix will be critically impaired by then."
"But I'm hoping he'll be no dummy."
* * * *
Nine hours later found Sea Dog streaking parallel to the eastern Atlantic seaboard. Propelled by a similar mode of jet propulsion to that used by the squids whose general body plan it emulated, funnelling seawater into a frontal siphon and expelling it out the back at higher pressure, that simplistic form of locomotion turned Sea Dog into an aquatic greyhound. The boosted submersible was speeding at the breakneck speed of 400 knots in fifty feet of water a few miles offshore. The commotion of its passage did not go unnoticed or unreported.
"The trawling party is sure of what they saw?” Lasbow pressed Brost, his hopes rising.
The Seaguard captain remained adamant about his account. “The Fishers swear to it. The monster they witnessed hightailing it south could not have been anything but the kraken. Its appearance fit the description of legend.
"That's not the oddest thing, Sire. They marked the beast as coming from the north. It was moving much more rapidly than the swiftest sailfish."
Lasbow showed more interest in the titan's direction than speed. “Brost, would it be a stretch of the imagination to assume the kraken's home range is in the polar seas and not hereabouts?"
The lead Seaguardian weighed the Merking's suggestion. The top two mermen floated in the battered skyscraper's lobby where King Lasbow had set up temporary court, illuminated in the bobbing glow cast by strings of light-fish lamps. All about them merwomen bustled, clearing away sediment and debris from the lower floors of Atlantis, helped by those mermales not tasked with fishing or patrolling their new borders.
"That's an assumption I'm not happy to make myself, Sire. Guessing wrong might have lethal repercussions later on."
Lasbow smirked at Brost's hesitancy. “Hard to shake a scout's cautiousness, eh?"
Brost grinned sheepishly back.
"Prudence is admirable, Captain, but in this case I'm prepared to ignore it. The clearance party searched this stack from bottom to top and found no evidence of a kraken nest. An abundance of unafraid fishes in the area confirms there is no predator of noteworthy size in residence. Factor in your fresh report, and I'll confidently predict the kraken's territory lies in colder, northern waters."
"What of Spid's brush with death?” worried Brost.
"A chance encounter,” Lasbow supposed.
"The myths are clear. Atlantis is the haunt of the kraken. It belongs here."
"Apparently not anymore,” said the Merking. “We moved caves. Maybe it did too. I'll consult the Fishers, but my personal view is that the kraken uses this part of the coast as an infrequent hunting spot. Spid and his partner just happened to get in its way while it was visiting."
"Then it's likely to reappear sometime."
"And when it does we'll discourage it, like we do to nosey sharks."
Brost was not so reassured. “Sire, it's at least as big as a megashark, if not bigger. A cordon of tridents might not thwart it."
Patting the captain's shoulder, Lasbow counselled, “Nothing good in life ever comes easy."
Just then, Princess Ahlegra came swimming elegantly around the corner, attended by a bevy of her mother's handmaidens.
"Welcome news, dear,” Lasbow clicked, by doing so calling her over. Her satellites went their separate ways on individual assignments.
Waving off Brost's courteous bow, the Merprincess smiled at him. “There's no need to float on ceremony, Captain. It's obvious that formal court won't be in session for a while.” She snared Lasbow's gaze. “The news I'd most welcome is that you've found a way to speed up the cleanup of this dump. There's mud everywhere. This tip isn't fit for a pigfish!"
Flashes of Ahlegra's waspish sister reappeared. Lasbow hoped his news bulletin would placate her. “The kraken threat has lessened considerably. It's been sighted migrating south at high speed. I'm not expecting it to resurface anywhere nearby."
"At least the monster won't gatecrash my wedding,” Ahlegra said, mildly appeased. “Not that there's much chance of that taking place in this mess."
"Aren't we holding the ceremony outside, dearest?"
"But the reception will be in here! Whenever that's ready."
Unable to win this argument, Lasbow resumed talking to Brost. “Go tell the Seaguard they can relax their patrols."
The captain glanced shiftily at Ahlegra. “Is that not premature, King Lasbow?"
"Not when word spreads at the same time that the kraken was seen leaving these waters in great haste. I sincerely doubt any snooping Landhoppers will be left in the area the beast charged through,” reasoned the Merking. None alive and sane, anyway. “In fact, I'll do the spreading myself. The Sea God knows our folk could use some cheering up. A day off cleaning to celebrate might be a welcome gesture."
When Lasbow made to leave, Ahlegra grabbed his shoulder. For a slip of a mergirl she had an amazingly strong grip. “Oh, no you don't, Your Majesty. You aren't going anywhere. Mother's eaten some bad fish and has taken to her seabed. You're filling in for her as my wedding planner."
Helpless, Lasbow looked imploringly at Brost.
"Don't worry, Sire. I'll pass on your regards to the manlier mermen,” the captain said on his way out, an impish smirk curling his mouth.
Chapter Thirty
Disgorging its revived cargo, the kraken closed the clamshell doors to its stark hold and wheeled smartly away. Caught in the sub's considerable turbulence, Durgay spun wildly about, furthering his disorientation. The Fisher's recent memories were of confusion and terror. He dreamt of being swallowed whole, a modern day Jonah and the Whale; trapped, immobile but partially awake, in the belly of the beast.
But it had been no nightmare.
Righting himself, Durgay glimpsed the swaying tentacles of his monstrous ride vanishing into the hazy near distance. That alone should have convinced him this was no dream. He clutched at the tiny orb of warm metal chained around his neck, pulsating with a miniature life all its own, additional proof that what he had experienced was indeed real.
Norton's instructions came flooding into his reeling mind, a hypnotic suggestion whispering to his brain that guaranteed his compliance.
Infiltrate the Landhopper lagoon. Plant the beacon. Let nothing and nobody stop you. You cannot fail. You must not fail. You will not fail.
Galvanised into doing the god-bot's bidding, Durgay swiftly found his bearings. The sprawling plinth of Lunder Atoll sloped away beneath him on his left, rooted in the sunless seabed thousands of feet below the reach of even his sound-sight. Pah Ocean brooded voluminously all around him. The kraken had regurgitated him on the western side of the island, as directed by its metal master.
Coasting over the skeletal Desolation Reef, Durgay straightaway made for the Surge. He had traversed this coral cemetery in daylight hours once before, what seemed a lifetime ago. Only this time he was alone, his sole encumbrance disloyal thoughts of morality.
All Landhoppers deserved to die. Durgay sincerely believed that. But wishing for the entire death of a race, desiring the annihilation of a species, was a seaworld away from the reality of being instrumental in bringing such genocide about. And Durgay was the implement of that malice. He was Norton's tool, his agent of destruction. More importantly, he was the focus of Cetari salvation.
Touching base again with his hatred for Princess Lorea's butchers, Durgay hardened the resolve to carry out his terrible, binding act. He would not let his sense of decency betray his merpeople. Norton was the presiding judge and Durgay would execute god's will. Even if the Sea God was now only an illusion of faith.
A horrible fear struck Durgay as he
approached side-on to the tricky passage over the dead reef facilitating the only entry into the lagoon. Reading the adverse currents worsened his concern. The tide was running the wrong way, draining the lagoon's entrance! Durgay had no hope of crossing the waterless gap in the algal ridge without the cushion of water an incoming tide generated.
Waiting was not an option. Norton impressed, repeatedly, upon Durgay the magnitude of the situation. While the details stayed unclear in the Fisher's head, the pressure to perform as quickly as possible remained.
Making for the surface, Durgay noted how the underside of the sea looked ominously foamy the second before he breached, popping up into a maelstrom. Spume blanketed the shrieking air like snow. Monstrous winds howled their fury, agitating the ocean. Mountainous seas, latticed with foam, reared ugly and foreboding over the reef, cresting in 70 foot waves before rolling down in sprays of thundering whiteness that trembled the lifeless coral.
Caught by one such monster breaker, Durgay was flipped over and sucked backwards into the wave's spiralling vortex, corkscrewing violently. The brutal wave action ripped the pendant chain from the Fisher's neck, twisting his head cruelly. Despairing, he grabbed for the jewellery just as the mixer spat him out.
Sinking into the calmer subsurface water, his gill covers flapping excitedly from exertion and anxiety, Durgay opened his closed fist uncertainly. It was an enormous relief to see the marble-sized ball of latent power resting in his palm. Acting on impulse, he gobbled down the transmitter and swallowed it with a tortured gulp. Not trusting to hold it safe in his grip while braving the stormy Surge, Durgay figured there was no better way of keeping it close. If only it tasted yummier!
He remained submerged for several minutes, studying the immense, roiling wave patterns from beneath until satisfied he could anticipate their frequency and ride such a monster up and over the reef crest. The intensity of the underwater currents, the way the white bottom sands swirled with blinding ferociousness, persuaded Durgay it might prove less hazardous to travel into the lagoon topside. But if he judged his attempt wrongly, he would become ingrained on the reef top.
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