Conclave

by Murray, Lee

  Bastion shifts position and groans, his arm thumping across my legs. He doesn’t notice and continues to sleep. I look down at his long, strong arm and something stirs inside me. It feels like a school of fish nibbling at my heart.

  Bastion chooses this moment to start snoring. Prastion and I laugh quietly together.

  The motion of the ship and the engine’s deep rumble lulls me, and my eyes close. I shimmy down onto the mattress until I’m curled at my end of the bed, letting Bastion’s arm slip off my leg.

  So much has happened over the last week, and I’m finding it hard to work out whether I’ve done the right thing. I know Uncle, Anna and Murdoch will be worried sick by now, especially considering Jaes is missing too, and who knows what Kastion is doing. If I know Uncle, he’ll be rallying them into a search party. But if Bastion is right, and they took the bait, it would probably be a search into the nearby human town.

  Well, there’s nothing I can do now. I’m here. I’m committed. I look down at Bastion. I’m Tellurian and I’m where I want to be.

  17

  A sailor raps on our cabin door. It feels like I’ve been asleep for five minutes.

  “We’ve reached the coordinates, sir,” he says.

  “Thank you,” rasps Prastion, climbing down from the top bunk. He rubs his eyes, then starts pulling off his clothes.

  “What are you doing?” I say, as he gets down to his underwear.

  “The crew has instructions to return within a five hour period. They can’t anchor out here, it’s too deep, so they’ll stick to a strict route and drift to save fuel. I want all my clothes waiting for me, dry and warm, when I get out of merform. I’ll show you on the map what coordinates are safe. Can you do that? Can you keep them distracted but on course?”

  I nod and turn my back. “Where’s Bastion?” The bunk bed is empty.

  “Probably getting the explosives ready.”

  “The what?” I freeze. “I’m decent,” Prastion says. He has wrapped a towel around his waist, and he reaches for his coat.

  “Prastion, what explosives?”

  He touches my arm, as if to calm me.

  “That’s our plan, Thala. We’re using human divers to lay explosives at what we believe to be the outskirts of their stronghold, to create a distraction so we can get closer. We know they’re there but it’s hard to get close. They’ve never seen humans as a threat and we’ve never thought of working with the humans against them before. They’re unlikely to attack humans unless they sense danger or they get too close, and because humans have never been involved in anything like this before, the Sprats will think they’re recreational divers. This will work.”

  “But it’s so dangerous and will destroy a lot of life down there,” I say.

  “I’m afraid it’s collateral damage,” he replies, looking away.

  “No, Prastion. Even if you can distract them, or do some damage, there’s no way two of you can get in there and rescue someone you can’t even be sure is still alive.”

  Prastion shrugs. “We’re going to try. Meet me on the bridge in half an hour. Bring your jacket, it’s cool out here.” He closes the cabin door.

  I sit down on the side of the bunk with a heavy thump. This is insane. Outside, I can hear Bastion talking to one of the sailors. His voice is tense and low, a grumbling murmur. I gulp down my fear.

  “Are they really going to blow up the reef, Thala?” Jaes is sitting up in bed, hugging his knees. He still looks pale.

  “Not if I can stop them,” I say.

  “But what are you going to do?”

  “I’m not sure, Jaes. Please sit tight here, okay, buddy?”

  He nods, looking glum. I lean over and give him a quick hug before I shrug on my jacket and head out into the apricot light of dawn.

  Bastion is near the helm. He dismisses the sailor and heads toward me, no doubt taking in my worried expression and tousled hair. Suddenly, he pulls me to him in a fierce hug. It’s so unexpected, I gasp. Warmth rises through my body.

  “Thank you, Thala. Thank you for being here. It means a lot to me, to my family.”

  Tears spring to my eyes and I swallow a hard lump in my throat. He pulls away from me but keeps a tight grip on my hands, as if anchoring himself to something real. He stares at me with a sad smile.

  “Bastion, this is a foolish plan. You’ll get yourself killed or captured. Please don’t do it.”

  Bastion’s expression hardens. But his eyes reflect some deep hurt.

  “It’s our only chance.” He pushes past me, then looks back, suddenly all business. “Come to the foredeck. The scuba divers are set to go. They’ll mark out the blast zone with buoys so you and the crew can stay well out of range. Once they’re done laying the waterproof charges, Prastion and I will give the signal and they’ll set them all off remotely, You’ll be well away by the time that’s done. I guess we only need you to distract the humans if it becomes totally necessary, otherwise you and Jaes stay out of sight, okay?”

  “And you, what will you do then?”

  “We’ll use the confusion and wing it,” he says, then grins brightly, his aquamarine eyes shining. He squeezes my hands, bringing them to his mouth and holding them against his lips as if they are a precious prize. All of a sudden, he lets me go and strides off. I shiver in the cool morning air.

  He waves. “See you in the soup.”

  18

  Shiv feels the vibration before he hears the pounding roar. The ship shakes and the tanks holding the Merfolk shudder and groan. His colleagues shout and run from the room.

  Shiv freezes in place. As another huge explosion threatens, his eyes are on Fastion. He’s smiling, broadly. The Merwoman too is uncharacteristically alert, her webbed hands hard against the transparent wall. Fastion beckons him over.

  “Hear that, Shiv? They’re coming for us. I’d bet my tail on it,” he says, grinning. “Shouldn’t you go investigate?”

  “I’ll stay.” These last four light cycles of observation and communion with the big Merman and the strange, silent Merwoman have left him with an odd sense of responsibility for their wellbeing. Working each day to observe and record their ways has been fascinating, and hearing Fastion’s stories of the Merfolk world and culture has brought a whole new dimension to life. If Fastion’s accounts are true, they are a brave and adventurous people with leaders who give them the freedom to make their own decisions. Somehow, the fact that Fastion has chosen to speak with him, rather than with his colleagues, makes him feel...unique. So special, in fact, that he has neglected to record the communications in his log book. What difference would a few stories make?

  The noise stops, and Shiv drops his shoulders. Whatever has happened, the Originals will contain it. Explosions happen at sea—boats blow up, oil rigs misbehave, submarines malfunction.

  “Besides, I’m not used to transforming back and forth,” he says. The thought of morphing back into his wet form both excites and frightens him. He isn’t looking forward to the pain, but his time is almost up. He tries not to think about leaving the Merfolk.

  Living in the dry ship and speaking with another species had changed the way he looks at his world. He now understands the benefits to his people of being able to inhabit both environs; the extended territory they could command, perhaps the opportunity to commune with humans and share technology. But the fact remains, the people can’t survive Earth’s atmosphere without significant changes to that atmosphere, or significant advances in the bio-ability of their own bodies. Do the Originals and Professors really think they can work that out? And if they can’t achieve it? What will they do to the planet Earth? His head spins with the implications. In any case, there’s nothing the Merman has said that will help the leaders in their hopeless mission.

  Another small explosion rocks the ship, but this one feels further away. Within seconds, Juder is shouting for help from the holding area.

  “We have prisoners!” Shiv watches from the observation porthole as guards force two creatu
res into the holding area. They don’t bother strapping them in. Within seconds, they are gasping in the puddles on the other side. A young Merfolk male and a boy. As Shiv watches, they transform. One is bleeding.

  “We’re to treat and confine them immediately,” says the Professor, his face strained.

  “This other one is deceased,” says a medic, indicating the body of a long, thin Merboy flung through the holding shoot after them.

  The medic shoves the corpse aside and nods as three more medics enter, helping him strap the injured male and small boy to stretchers and carry them out the door. The older cries out in pain. As Shiv moves aside to let them through, he meets the small boy’s terrified gaze. The child’s lips move but before Shiv can lean in to hear his whisper, the medics have rushed them by.

  “Incoming!”

  Juder gestures for Shiv to come and help. Another one? Had these Merfolk been the cause of the explosions?

  She comes at them in a whirl of fists and kicking feet. This one transforms at speed, like a rock thrown at full force. The rotund Professor goes down first, flattened by her larger size and weight. Shiv calls for help as he’s thrown hard against the wall. The girl slips in the wet, falling on her backside. Two medics jump her before she can get to her feet again. She writhes, spits and screams, until one manages to shove a needle into her thigh. Slowly, with hate in her eyes, she calms and passes out.

  “Put her in the tank with the bearded one!” says Juder, wiping himself down. “Get rid of that body. Keep the injured one and the boy in the dry, but sedate them.”

  Shiv sits in a heap on the wet floor, watching the medics lift the Mergirl onto a stretcher. Even covered in blood and spittle, she is ferociously beautiful.

  19

  When I come to, I’m in Merform. There’s sediment in the water here and a fine layer of grit sprinkles the floor below me. It’s obvious from the taste of the water and the staleness that I’m not in the open ocean. I stretch and flail, trying to get the feel of my surrounds, but my tail brushes against the sides of a large glass partition. Oh, my God, I’m in an aquarium. I’m Nemo! I thrash my way towards a light shining into the tank and place my hands against the glass wall. I try to call out but can’t make a sound. Tentatively, I use my mind. I reach out, but I come across something horribly foreign, like finding an eel in a warm winter jacket pocket. I draw it back, snapping shut the gates of my thoughts.

  “Thala?” It’s a whisper, echoing across the density of the water. I know that voice from my dreams. It can’t be.

  “Grandma?”

  “Direct your thoughts to me, girl,” says a strong male voice, in my mind. “Wall up any random communication. Where have you come from? What pod are you from?”

  I try to focus on the other creature in my tank but my eyes are heavy, my thoughts dull. His form is blurry. His mind feels clear, though, almost familiar.

  “Tellurian, I’m Thala Tellurian, out of the Pacific,” I whisper.

  “Thala, my God. I’m from the Cherienne pod. Are my brothers not here?”

  My mind whirls. A Cherienne? “They are here!” I say.

  Or they were. I try to think. Suddenly everything comes rushing back to me. The explosions going off too early, the water surging around the boat. Prastion and Bastion out of sight beneath the waves. The sailors moving toward me as my breathing falters and the pain rams into my chest again, like it did when Bastion and I were fighting. I remember Jaes trying to fend off the sailors with his small fists and the big men plucking him from the deck as if he’s a toy and throwing him overboard. I remember thinking maybe that was the best place for him. I pulled myself to the starboard side, trying to catch a glimpse of Jaes or the others. I dived over, thinking I could help them. But beneath the water a kind of hell reigned. Spratonite body parts littered the depths, followed by happy sharks. Sprats swam in circles deep below me, screeching their distress into my head, and there was no sight of my friends. I swam around the outskirts of the destruction, avoiding detection by clinging to the reef. At last, the swirls of sand and exploded rock cleared enough for me to see.

  Spread out below me like a maze, the Spratonite city ran for kilometres. Made up of a multitude of long, oblong shapes lying dormant on the ocean floor, their dark outlines appeared utterly alien against the white sand. As I looked, I realised the layout of the shapes created narrow streets and sudden corners as if it were town planning. These were ships. They still had their spaceships.

  I gripped my rocky hiding place to keep from swimming away. The incredible scope of this place was beyond anything I had imagined. No wonder these aliens had overrun my people for hundreds of years. Spaceships represented an alien technology and power we had no hope of beating. And there were so many of them. Why hadn’t they beaten us sooner? Why hadn’t they joined us above the waves, beaten us there, too? The answer came at me like a poke in the eye. Maybe they couldn’t. I had always presumed Sprats chose the ocean over the land, as the best preference, to rule below the surface. But maybe they simply couldn’t acclimate to life on land?

  “Thala, try to rest, child,” the man’s voice interrupts my thoughts. It sounds kind.

  “Thala,” repeats the woman, her voice low-pitched.

  As I hid, cowering against the dark nooks and crannies of the reef, the water cleared even more. I could make out details. The Sprats were so much smaller than I had imagined, hardly bigger than a twelve-year-old child. But their smaller, faster bodies belied what I knew to be vicious strength and merciless fighting ability. I must remain hidden.

  A team of Sprats swam close by me, carrying something large and limp, a cloud of pink billowing behind them. A hoard of reef sharks hovered at the edge of the cloud, ready but unwilling to advance on the territory of the dominant predator. The group turned to dive deeper and in that instant I recognised Bastion. His long, beautiful tail hung limp beneath him, his gold hair straggled low over his closed eyes. A long gash across his shoulder seeped red.

  More Sprats followed with Prastion hanging between them. I felt and smelled his dead body before the sight registered on my brain. No! My first instinct to dart forward and fight nearly overthrew my fear. But Uncle’s voice beat against my brain like a drum. “Stay alive.”

  Oh, poor Prastion, poor dead Prastion. Their plan didn’t work. Their stupid, foolish plan. Why hadn’t I tried harder to stop them? Why had I thought that somehow they could do it, could stop what no one else had survived. They’d been fools to try. Idiots to think they had a chance. I’d hung my head and would have cried if I could.

  “It’s okay, child, it’s not your fault,” says the creature floating with me. Have I been broadcasting my thoughts to him this whole time? I’m too tired to work it out.

  I picture poor Bastion’s beaten body and Prastion’s wrecked one. Even now I can feel the warm touch of Bastion’s dry lips against my hands, his eyes intent on mine as he said goodbye.

  I decided I needed to get back to Uncle. He’d know what to do. I pictured his old, tired face and knew in that moment that I depended on him. How strange to realise it only then. Had Uncle seen this city? Had he witnessed the magnitude of the Sprat power and come home all those years ago knowing we’d never, ever beat them? That there was no hope?

  And then I’d seen Jaes and all thoughts of returning to Uncle vanished. I spun and swam toward him, only to be stopped at the edge of a sharp coral spear and too many Sprats to count. Damn those boys, damn their crazy ideas and their big, foolish plans.

  20

  The key word for today is determination.

  I wake with a start.

  “Get out of my head!” I scream. But the words are lost in the bubbles on the side of my tank. Daily, the Spratonite Originals send off a mind message that penetrates each and every creature’s private thoughts. It’s quick and violent and lacks any kind of finesse. My mind feels intruded upon, as if a burglar had rifled through my underwear drawer.

  Three days, three words. The first day it had been ‘j
ustice’. The second ‘revenge’ and now, ‘determination’. It’s a rude awakening, and I roll over to see if I can get some more sleep, but something pokes into my side. It’s sharp and I retreat in a hurry. I turn my head to see a long needle magically penetrating the aquarium wall.

  “Hell, no!” I yell.

  I swerve out of the way, twist back and grab the long, steel tube, snapping it in half. “Shove that up your Spratonite arses!” I scream.

  There are two of them. I’ve seen them watching me these last couple of days. They’re small, their heads too big for their bodies, but one is fatter. They wear white coats like lab doctors but their legs stick out the bottom of them, comically, as if they’re in a sit com where the characters have forgotten to dress properly. Their legs are thin and scaled, with large feet showing splayed out toes. They look a bit like toads. The fat one bares three rows of ugly, rotting teeth at me in what I take to be a sign of aggression.

  “Fuck you!” I shout, and I slam my tail into the wall.

  He backs away, mumbling as he exits the room. But the smaller stands his ground. He looks, as far as I can interpret alien emotion, impressed.

  “Fierce,” he says in a thin voice. It tickles my mind like a feather, not an unpleasant sensation, but he’s still one of them. Somehow I know he’s younger than the other.

  I beckon him towards me. He takes a hesitant step forward until he’s close to the tank and I can see purple veins standing out against his scalp. He bends his head toward me.

  “Get the hell out of my mind, coelom!” I yell, putting full force into the mind speak.

  The Sprat falls to his knees, hands holding his head. I smile. “Yep, I can do the old siren tricks too, arsehole! You may not have ears but you can hear that, right?”

  “He means no harm, Thala.” It’s the big Merman, Fastion. “Shiv is the only one I can get through to.”