Floodworld

by Tom Huddleston

  But the light was growing. He was certain of it. And in the glow he could see Bobby a few feet to his right and several more ahead. The boy’s strokes were powerful, his legs curving with long, easy kicks. He glanced back over his shoulder, shooting Joe an effortless grin.

  And in that moment, Joe knew the race was lost. Bobby wasn’t just older, he was fitter and far stronger. He hadn’t been raised on rat meat and scrapings, he was a Mariner, born on the ocean. Joe might be the best Beef in the Shanties but that didn’t mean a thing out here. He could only stare as the gap between them widened.

  Then he spotted something else, a silver shape coming towards them, bouncing along the underside of the Disc like a ball rolling down a slipway. Joe recognised it immediately – an oxyacetylene tank, the kind you’d hook up to a welding torch. The cylinder hissed towards them, trailing bubbles.

  Joe tried desperately to wave at Bobby, to warn him. But it was too late. The tank slammed into the boy’s side, knocking the air out of him. He crumpled, eyes wide with shock. The steel cylinder twisted past him and on into the black.

  Joe felt the pressure in his lungs. He could see daylight up ahead where the Disc broke against the steel-plate side of the Hub. He knew he could make it if he swam straight for it. But Bobby was already starting to drift, his limp body dragging him down. What if Joe couldn’t find him again? He tried to focus, to remember where he was and what was happening, but it was all getting muddled.

  He grabbed his own wrist, twisting hard. The pain shocked him and he struck out towards Bobby, kicking with all his might. He seized the boy’s arm, pulling him up.

  But now he was out of air. With a last effort Joe turned, distant sunlight dazzling his eyes, water boiling against the side of the ship. It was too far. He’d never make it. He was dead in the water; they both were.

  Then a black shape darted across his vision, like a ghost in a dream. It curved towards him, back arched like a dolphin. I’m hallucinating, he thought. My brain’s switching off and it’s making me see things.

  The shape had blue eyes, wide open in a dark face. It smiled at Joe, strong hands locking round his wrists. This is no hallucination, he thought. It’s an angel. A sea-angel, come to drag me down.

  Then, like a light, he was gone.

  13

  Cortez

  Kara stood on the Disc’s inner edge as the minutes ticked by. Ahead of her rose the central ship, and between them was a ribbon of dark water just wide enough for a boy to squeeze through. Any moment she’d see Joe’s skinny brown body clambering into the light. Any moment now.

  “They should be up,” Nate muttered nervously. “Cane, shouldn’t they be up?”

  Kara saw a flicker of uncertainty in the tall girl’s eyes. “If your boy’s messed up,” she hissed. “If he’s put Bobby in danger, I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” Kara snapped. “This was your idea. If anything’s happened, it’ll be your fault.” She dug her nails into her palm, trying not to think about Joe down there in the dark.

  “Come on, Bobby,” Cane hissed through gritted teeth. “Don’t you—”

  “There!” Nate cried, pointing. “I see something!”

  There was a shape in the water, a figure rising; darker than Bobby but bigger than Joe. The surface broke and Kara stepped back in surprise as a man emerged, all in a rush like a buoy cut from its moorings. He had skin the colour of driftwood and his skull was perfectly smooth, his muscles standing out like knotted rope as he heaved both boys on to the Disc.

  Joe rolled on his side, coughing helplessly. Bobby slumped back, his eyes closed. The man crouched between them, breathing hard. His arms were long and with a rush of horror Kara saw that his fingers were grossly malformed, strung together with lengths of dark webbing.

  She dropped beside Joe, shaking him. To her relief he opened his eyes, gasping and nodding. “I’m OK,” he managed, spitting seawater.

  “Bobby, wake up!” Kara turned to see Cane straddling her friend, slapping his face with the flat of her hand. She tipped his head back, blowing into his mouth.

  The strange man knelt beside her. With a shiver of disgust, Kara noticed that his feet were webbed too.

  “Remember what I taught you,” he said. “Three times, gentle but firm.”

  Cane pressed down on the boy’s chest, once, twice. On the third push there was a snap, and she jerked back in horror. “What was that?”

  Red water leaked from Bobby’s mouth as the man probed his chest cautiously. “It feels like a rib. You must have pushed too hard.”

  “I didn’t!” Cane cried in panic. “I swear.”

  “That’s where it hit him.” Joe’s voice was small. “On that side.”

  “What hit him?” Cane started up, a wild look in her eyes. “You murdering mudfoots, you lured him down there and—”

  “It wasn’t the boy’s fault.” The webbed man stood, holding Cane back. “Daughter, calm down.”

  Realisation broke over Kara like a cold wave. Of course, she should’ve seen it right away. She’d been expecting someone old and wicked, a wind-worn sea captain with cruel eyes. But John Cortez was the exact opposite: he was trim and agile and, she could barely bring herself to think it, sort of handsome. His features were finely arranged, his gaze intense but friendly as he turned towards Joe.

  “It was a welding tank, wasn’t it?” Cortez’s accent was impossible to place, as though drawn from all corners of the world. “I was working with Pavel on the Orca and he dropped one over the side. I offered to retrieve it. I never dreamed anyone would be swimming down there.”

  “They were doing the keel run,” Nate said, ignoring Cane’s resentful glare. “I told them it was against regulations.”

  “I thought as much,” Cortez said, then he heaved Bobby on to his shoulder. “Come on, all of you. We need to get him to the infirmary.”

  Kara staggered to her feet. Everything was happening so fast, her emotions ricocheting from anger to fear to relief and back again. She looked up and the sky was spinning, the ship looming like a steel blade, cutting her off from everything she’d known. Then Nate grabbed her wrist and she snapped back. “Leave me alone. I’m fine.”

  Joe had gone ahead, stumbling after Cane and her father, following the Disc to a hatch in the Hub’s side. A gangplank spanned the channel, sided with low railings. Kara froze. She couldn’t go in there; it was the centre of everything, the heart of the Ark. But Joe was already inside, so with an effort of will she followed.

  She found herself in a steel hangar half as wide as the Hub itself and blazing with artificial light. Cortez marched across it to a bulkhead door in the far wall, the others behind him. Inside was a white room, the air humming with machinery.

  “What happened?”

  A woman in cream-coloured robes bent over Bobby as Cortez laid him down.

  “An accident,” the captain said. “He’s got a broken rib, maybe two. But he’s breathing.”

  “Will he be OK, Doctor Chandra?” Cane asked, reaching for Bobby’s hand.

  The doctor pushed past her, sliding a mask over the boy’s face. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  A machine began to chime, a green line jumping in time with Bobby’s heartbeat. The doctor forced a tube down his throat, mopping up the blood that came spilling out. Then suddenly she turned, looking at Kara and Joe.

  “You’re the mudfoots,” she said, a statement not a question. “I’ll want to take a look at you too when I’m done. I can already see you’re malnourished. Look at that boy’s ribs.”

  Joe covered his chest and blushed. “I left my T-shirt behind.”

  Unexpectedly the doctor smiled. “I’m sure we can find you a new one.”

  “You’ll have to examine them later,” Cortez said. “There are things they and I need to discuss. Cane, you too.”

  The girl flushed. “No, I have to be here in case—”

  “I’m not asking,” Cortez said. “The doctor will inform us if anything changes.”


  “Can I c-come too?” Nate looked nervously at Kara, wringing his hands. “I was just showing them around the Ark, you see. Explaining how we d-do things. They were interested.”

  For a moment Kara was perplexed. Why was he so determined to join them? Then she realised – he’s reluctant to leave us alone with Cortez. He’s scared, and he doesn’t know what’s going to happen. It was oddly touching.

  Cortez smiled approvingly, clapping the boy on the shoulder. “We can finish the tour together. After all, no one knows a vessel better than her captain.”

  Nate’s face turned pale and he muttered something unintelligible.

  Cortez led them back to the hangar, Cane bringing up the rear. The lights in the ceiling pulsed, making Kara’s head throb. They crossed to a pair of metal doors that slid open at the push of a button. “This is called an elevator,” Nate said, glancing at Cortez as though seeking his approval.

  “We know,” Kara said, stepping inside. “We’ve got one at home.”

  “It doesn’t work, though,” Joe added.

  The lift began to rise, moving up through the ship. The walls were glass, giving them a clear view over the massive hangar. “The H-Hub is one of the largest ocean-going vessels in the world,” Nate stammered. “The hold is so big that the whole Disc is able to fold away inside it when we come into port, or if there’s a really big storm.”

  “It is a remarkable thing to see,” Cortez said. “Mariner ingenuity at work.”

  They ascended through floor after floor, Nate pointing out the gymnasium and the discotheque, the lecture hall and the laboratories. Cortez repeatedly spoke over him, describing the different projects his teams were working on, the ways they were making life better not just for the Mariners, but for everyone. Watching him, Kara got a sense of absolute self-confidence – like Remick, she could never imagine him being scared or surprised or out of his depth. He was in complete control.

  They passed through the arboretum, the green so vivid it stung Kara’s eyes. Flowering shrubs sprouted from banks of earth and the walls were strung with vines trailing pale white blooms. Above it was a sports hall where two teams competed to put an orange ball through a hanging net.

  At last the lift stopped, the doors opening on to an expanse of windswept deck. The steel spire rose overhead, the cables branching out like the spokes of a wheel. They had reached the highest level of the Hub.

  To their left was a large forward-facing cabin; inside Kara could see banks of computers and digital charts. Nate started towards it but Cortez held up a hand.

  “The bridge is no place for newcomers. Or first-year cadets.” He checked the comwatch on his wrist. “However, there is one more thing I would like you all to see. Step this way.”

  He led them across the deck, proudly indicating the long-range radio antennae and banks of meteorological sensors. Joe stared at his hands in fascination and Cortez smiled, spreading his fingers in the sunlight. The webs were almost translucent, moulded to the skin.

  “I designed them myself,” he said. “In partnership with one of our plastic surgeons. I’m not a young man, but I could outswim anyone on this ship.”

  “Do other Mariners have them?” Joe asked.

  “Not yet,” Cortez admitted. “But perhaps it will catch on. After all, the waters are still rising.”

  The wind whipped at Kara’s hair, tasting of salt and chem-smoke. They reached a low guardrail and below them she saw the blue expanse of the Disc dotted with tiny figures.

  Suddenly she could stay silent no longer. “Why did you bring us here?” she asked Cortez. “Why did you tell your men to kidnap us?”

  He turned, his blue eyes fixing on her like search beams. In his gaze she felt exposed, vulnerable. “In part it was because of what Redeye told me,” he said. “I had to meet the children who outsmarted my best lieutenant. But I had another reason. A more personal reason.”

  “Elroy,” Joe realised. “You want to know what happened to your son.”

  “I do,” Cortez said, nodding. “And so does Cane.”

  “But we already told Redeye everything,” Kara said.

  “It’s not the same as hearing it from someone who was there. According to Redeye, Elroy’s last words were that he was sorry. Why do you think he said that?”

  Joe shook his head. “I don’t—”

  Kara reached out, squeezing his shoulder. “No,” she said, facing Cortez. “If you want something from us, you have to give us something back.”

  Nate looked at her in alarm, and Cortez’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “We want to go home,” Kara said. “We have to. We’re not going to tell you anything until we’re safely on our way.”

  Joe looked horrified. “Kara, it’s his son.”

  “And if he cares that much, he’ll let us go,” Kara insisted. “We don’t belong here anyway. We’re not like them.”

  Cortez smiled almost admiringly. “Redeye told me you were tough. Now I see that he was right.” He leant back against the railing. “I will consider your offer, ruthless though it is. But the truth is, we are more alike than you know, Kara. I wasn’t born a Mariner either. My parents were plantation slaves; I was put to work from the day I could walk. But the Mariners saved me. They helped me see that this world isn’t all hate and cruelty. It can be beautiful too.”

  “But Redeye said you raid ships,” Kara said. “And N—Um, someone told us you sank a whaler.”

  Cortez glanced at Nate, whose bottom lip was quivering fearfully. “Don’t be afraid, you won’t get in trouble for telling the truth. Yes, my methods can be … bolder than the Mariner High Council would like. I put a hole in that stinking death-ship, and I have been known to raid the occasional vessel. But tell me, Kara, if you knew that a ship was transporting guns to a warlord who was going to use them on his own people, what would you do? If you knew a freighter’s hold was full of slaves heading for some wildcat diamond mine, wouldn’t you try to stop it?”

  “Nate said some Mariners want to help other people,” Joe put in, “but some think you should all just keep to yourselves. What side are you on?”

  The Captain’s eyes flashed with amusement. “Both, and neither,” he said. “I am on humanity’s side, Joe. The Mariners are our last, best hope, the only ones shining a light while the world slips back into the dark. If our species is to survive we must all learn new ways to live, we must strike a new balance with nature, with the land and the oceans. Everyone on this planet will have to become Mariners.”

  Kara snorted. “I’d rather drown.”

  “That is the only other option,” Cortez told her. “The great cities are all ruins now, Shanghai, New York, Cairo. I’ve seen them. ‘Death has reared himself a throne, in a strange city lying alone… Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best, have gone to their eternal rest.’ London will follow, unless something drastic happens. Unless someone steps up, and takes matters into their own—”

  There was a sudden sound, an air horn giving three short blasts. Cortez’s head snapped round and he smacked the railing purposefully. “Good. Right on schedule.”

  Below, Kara saw Mariners streaming to the edge of the Disc, pointing excitedly. Beyond them the ocean began to boil, waves of white water rolling back as a vast shape broke the surface. Sunlight gleamed on a black cylinder the size of a skyscraper with a tail fin taller than ten men.

  “A submarine,” Joe said in awe. “Is it yours?”

  “Oh yes.” Cortez nodded. “She’s most certainly mine. The Kraken is the most advanced vessel in the Mariner fleet. So new the mudfoots don’t even know she exists. Yet.”

  A conning tower jutted from the submarine’s crown, half as high as the Hub. Diving planes branched from the sides like wings, and the entire craft bristled with rocket launchers, barrage blasters and energy cannons. On the bowsprit a twisted face was painted, fifty feet high with mad eyes and a mouth crammed with pointed teeth.

  Kara suppressed a shudder. “Why is it … she
… here?”

  “For a party,” Cortez smiled. “No, I’m serious. If you’ve never been to a Mariner party, you’re in for a treat. I’m talking music, food, drinks, lots of drinks. Tonight we’ll celebrate, because soon…” He broke off, a smile playing on his lips.

  “Soon?” Kara prompted.

  “Soon there’ll be a storm coming.”

  14

  The Party

  Clouds were gathering in a sky streaked with crimson as the three of them weaved between the domes towards the Neptune’s harbour. The sea was calm, the Ark lying so still that Kara could almost fool herself into thinking they were back on land.

  Nate had found them some Mariner clothes – light brown robes that looked better on Joe than they did on her. He’d also introduced them to something called a shower, a more complicated version of the bucket on a rope that Kara remembered from the Sisterhood. Joe had laughed out loud when she’d emerged from the stall, her face scrubbed clean and her hair free of knots. Nate had gone red and looked at his feet. “You look … nice,” he’d muttered.

  They could hear the party before they saw it, a rolling melody drifting on the evening air. Mariner music wasn’t like the stuff at home, Kara had discovered. In the Shanties they liked punishing beats and angry rhymes about the hurts you’d suffered and the wrongs you’d avenged. It made you feel tough, but it could get a bit much. Mariner music was wider somehow, grand and majestic. She could feel it getting inside her, squeezing her heart without her wanting it to.

  The clatter of an outboard engine rose above the music and she saw a dinghy curving into the harbour. It was crammed with men from the Kraken, all of them shaven-headed and muscular, pistols rattling as they clambered on to the Disc. They laughed and jostled, bellowing a crude chant about the differences between Mariner girls and mudfoots.