by Jack Conner
She hesitated, and he could tell she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the answer to the question she was about to ask or not, but then she gathered her courage and said, “How long do we have?”
Avery glanced at his watch. “About …” He cleared his throat. “About nine hours.”
She swayed backward. “Gods.”
“Yeah.” He tried to inject a note of humor into his voice, but he could tell it came out flat: “Good thing we’re not cutting this close, right?”
“Good thing.”
They squeezed hands just as the radio at Avery’s hip squawked, and they both jumped. When he answered it Grand Admiral Jons’s voice said, “Your Majesty, we still can’t make any forward progress. The storm and lightning are too much. What’s more, some thing just destroyed the GS Hegulun. Other ships are reporting attacks from still more creatures. It’s them, sir. They’re sending their pets against us.”
“Can your submarines dive?”
“Aye, I suppose, or those we can spare. We’ll need some to help stave off the creatures, if you don’t mind. But it’s the same for them down below as it us up here. The sea is thick with demons and oddities.”
“We can use the squid-ships,” Sheridan said, and Avery, with some misgivings, agreed.
The two readied their squid-ships while the submarines formed up into several formations, one for Ghenisan, one for the Ysstral Empire, and various small ones from other countries. As Avery and Sheridan approached their squids, which had been brought via crane to the outer deck, bright lightning cracked nearby, and the sky seemed to shimmer and shake, illuminating the squids in eerie light; the animals squirmed in their slings but were fairly quiescent.
Sheridan laid a hand on Avery’s arm. “This could be it,” she said, her breath misting her face-plate. “This could be the end.”
He knew she didn’t mean the end for the R’loth. He’d kissed her before they donned their helms, but suddenly he wished he’d kissed her a dozen times.
“One more time into the furnace,” he said.
“One last time,” she agreed, with more finality than he cared for.
Prime Minister Denaris arrived, looking as ill as Avery felt. Hildebrand had contrived to half–hide himself behind her neck, his tail curled around her throat, his bright eyes peeking around one ear.
“I thought I would see you off,” Denaris said. Then, with surprising grace, added: “Both of you.”
Avery nodded, accepting that. “Thank you.”
“I wish you luck.”
“We’ll need all of that that we can get.”
Hildebrand chittered mournfully. Sheridan said nothing.
“You have command of the surface fleet while I’m gone,” Avery told Denaris. “You command up here while I’ll command below.”
The Prime Minister shook her head. “I’ll let Admiral Jons run things, thank you. I’m simply here to bear witness and report back to Ghenisa what I see … if I’m able to. And if there’s any Ghenisa to report back to. I wish I were a religious person, Doctor. I would say a prayer for you. Just know that all my thoughts are with you, and know that millions of people throughout the world are praying for you.”
“That’s reassuring,” Sheridan said.
It was time. Avery helped Sheridan into her squid, then slithered into the maw of his own and installed himself inside. He knew his face was pale with terror; everyone’s was. Damn it all, he thought. Are we really doing this? Piloting these squids into the hells themselves?
When they were ready, Avery and Sheridan said their farewells to Denaris, then drove the squids into the deep, and the fleet of two hundred submarines followed. Avery stayed in touch with them via radio, and he and Sheridan could speak through the squids. Sure enough, the seas boiled black and strange around them, and Avery could see vast and terrible beings all around. The submarines fired, shooting out their new energy weapons, which turned the sea green with their bursts, and the creatures fell back, in fear or in pieces. Down and down the fleet dove, and the denizens of the deep were even stranger than their counterparts above, and just as vicious. Fortunately they were also just as susceptible to Ygrithan fire. Avery’s terror didn’t retreat, but a new optimism began to rise in him, not replacing his fear but coexisting with it. We can do this, he thought. The weapons are working! That had been his secret fear all along, that the R’loth would have found a way to counter the Ygrithan technology. Fortunately even the Lords of the Abyss couldn’t overcome the fire of the Elder Race.
At last the Great Mound hove into view, lit by the countless bolts of lightning cutting through the seas around it, as well as by the many exploding gas pockets. Avery heard the admiral of the Ghenisan fleet (who was coordinating them all, in effect making it one combined fleet) swear in awe through the radio, and smiled; the Mound was indeed impressive.
“Hang back,” Avery ordered Admiral Herobnic, when they had descended down the Mound some ways. “I think I see the location Azacuida told me to look for. Admiral Sheridan and I’ll go ahead alone to meet with him, then we’ll come and take you through the pass into the city.”
The submarines stayed back, forming a defensive position to ward off the horrors that assailed them, while Avery and Sheridan darted forward in their small, nimble vessels to approach the grand blue brain coral where Captain Azacuida had told them he would leave a small patrol to await them. Sure enough, as Avery and Sheridan drew close the squad of a dozen squid-ships jetted out and fanned around them. As luck would have it, leading them was none other than Captain Azacuida himself.
“Well met, King of Ghenisa,” Azacuida said through the organic intercom of the squids. “You’ve come late, but hopefully not too late. The king’s been awaiting you. Did you bring the weapons?”
“We did,” Avery said. “What’s more, I’ve had these squid-ships outfitted with the energy weapons, so I know they’ll work on yours, too. We can outfit your whole fleet.”
The captain’s eyes gleamed. “Excellent. Come with me and meet with His Majesty.”
Avery and Sheridan followed the squid patrol through the valleys between corals, having to travel some distance before finally arriving at the coral the Gaelythans had relocated to after Gaelyth had been compromised. Azacuida hadn’t wanted to tell Avery the actual location ahead of time, in case Avery had been captured and questioned, instead electing to have someone keep an eye out for Avery at the brain coral and meet with him if he came under his own power, not obviously compelled by the R’loth. Apparently the ex-slaves would have been able to discern the stamp of the Great Ones upon him.
Captain Azacuida showed Avery and Sheridan into a yawning coral cavern inside a bright lavender tabulate coral and down twisting tubes and shoots until they reached a hangar pool much like that at their former location, if more basic and without decoration. The captain escorted them through the halls, which were tightly packed with refugees from Gaelyth—they hadn’t had time to pump air throughout the dead parts of the coral system and could only live in a relatively small area, at least out of the water—into the room Lord Halayus Marqua-thon was using as his throne room. It, too, was small and basic, but it was filled with frantic activity, knots of soldiers and nobles conferring with each other urgently, and with their king. Marqua-thon didn’t occupy his throne but stood in conference with people that might be his generals or advisors, listening grimly to a briefing.
He glanced up at Avery and Sheridan’s arrival. “I hope you have good news.”
Avery spoke, and Marqua-thon’s eyes veritably sparked when he learned his ships could be outfitted with the Ygrithan weapons.
“I recommend bringing your squid-ships to my fleet,” Avery said. “They’ll fit in the submersible bays, and there the ruby people can begin adapting them, a few at each submarine, in shifts, until they’re all done. Meanwhile we can begin ferrying the rest of your people, the non-combatants, to my ships on the surface. Some have been set aside just for the purpose. Before battle commences, they’ll
be taken somewhere safe, toward an island called Eberlith. The people there have just lost a great many people, and they’ll appreciate you helping them rebuild.”
“It still seems strange, abandoning the Great Mound and all the wonderful corals here ...”
“I know, and I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do for the corals. If we’re successful, this whole area will be destroyed and made uninhabitable.”
King Marqua-thon took a breath. “There is a problem.”
“What now?” said Sheridan.
“Tragulocnabath. The blue coral. It’s completely overgrown the pass into the city. There’s no way through.”
“Then let’s give it a taste of Ygrithan fire.”
They began preparations. The squid-ship pilots were gathered in various groups, given their orders, and other orders were distributed to the non-combatants. The whole place buzzed with the news, and Avery and Sheridan allowed the Gaelythans to move at their own pace, which was not slow. Lord Marqua-thon invited them to dine with him, and they agreed, even if they could only drink the wine; the food here was still contaminated to them. From the king’s apartment, which had been filled with all the furnishings he could take from his old haunts, they faced a wide membrane window with a magnificent view out over the Great Mound with all its many corals. A thousand textures and shapes and colors spread out before them, all flocking with a multitude of life that called this place home.
“I can’t believe it will die,” the king said, and his eyes were moist.
There was nothing Avery could think to say to that. Surprisingly, it was Sheridan who saved the moment: “This place may die, but the world might live on.”
Slowly, King Marqua-thon nodded. “If we’re successful.”
“Yes. If we’re successful.”
Some hours passed, and Avery glanced at his watch impatiently. Eventually, Lord Marqua-thon’s daughter Yuloqi, whom Avery had never met before, entered the apartment. Apparently she was the lord’s heir and second in command. “Father, the vessels are all outfitted, and most of our people have moved to the ships topside.”
“Then it's time for war.”
King Marqua-thon rose to his feet, looking regal and in command, and Avery and Sheridan rose to theirs, as well.
“I’ll see you on the other side,” said Marqua-thon, and then added, in unconscious echo of what Prime Minister Denaris had said mere hours ago: “If there is one and we are there to meet it.”
“How much time do we have left?” Sheridan said when the king was gone with his daughter, and Avery knew she meant before the Central Processor reached critical mass.
For the hundredth time that day, he looked at his watch. “Five hours.”
When he glanced up, she was watching him. Her face was still, her eyes sober. He held her gaze, then squeezed her arm. She stepped in closer, and he wrapped his arms about her.
“Doctor,” she said.
He almost smiled. “Sheridan.”
When she tilted her face up to him, he could see that her eyes glimmered, just faintly, with moisture. She looked very beautiful in that moment, and he pressed his lips to hers and kissed her, hard. She opened her lips to his and molded her body against his own, and, as lightning crackled in the sea beyond and the entire world went mad around them, they kissed passionately, and he could feel his heart hammering like jungle drums. The kiss lasted for a long time, and he knew, as she surely did, that it might be the last kiss they would ever share.
Chapter 15
“Sir, the ships are all in position,” said Admiral Jacob Herobnic, commander of the submarine Avery was operating from, the GS Cavalier, as well as the entire submarine fleet—newly outfitted with Ygrithan technology—which made Avery in fact the true commander.
“Very good,” said Avery, and swept his gaze about the bridge. Everyone looked alert—not just alert but tense, their faces tight and sheened with sweat. In moments the final assault would begin, the strike that would either doom them all or save the world from the R’loth and their plans.
Sheridan, too, stiffened at Avery’s side, and he knew that she was annoyed not to be in command of the ship herself. Still, she understood; it would not have done to throw over the fleet’s admiral on the eve of battle. Plus, of course, there was the fact that few trusted her, and many distrusted her. Rumors ran wild of her involvement in the death of the Royal Family, and nothing Avery could do suppressed them adequately. His gaze settled on Gallansi, what he had taken to calling (at her own request) the ruby girl. “Are the weapons online?”
The ruby girl nodded, the facets of her eyeballs twinkling in the scattered lights of the bridge. “All is in readiness, sir, not just on this ship but throughout the fleet. I’m in contact with my counterparts on each ship.” The ruby people were necessary to operate the Ygrithan weapons, Avery knew, and to make sure they functioned correctly. Gallansi was their leader, as much as they had one—Avery wasn’t sure they were individual beings at all, really; more likely they were aspects of a greater whole, although it was possible the aspects did have some distinctness—and only Avery could issue Gallansi orders.
He paused, desperate to know something but afraid to ask.
“Yes?” she said.
He cleared his throat. “Ani ... are you there?”
It was the ruby girl’s turn to pause. Then, at last: “Yes, Papa. I’m here.” The voice had changed, losing Gallansi’s slick inhumanity and becoming the hard, scared voice of a little girl trapped in a terrifying cosmos. For a moment Ani didn’t appear to have anything else to say, but then she added, as if having to wrest the thought loose, “Good luck.”
He sighed and shared a look with Sheridan. She nodded. It would have to do. He might never get closure with Ani, and he would just have to live with that—or, more likely, die with it. The world wouldn’t wait for his little family drama to balance itself out. Still, it was reassuring to know that at least in some small way Ani was here with him, watching through the multi-faceted eyes of the ruby girl and able to speak through her lips.
“Thank you,” he said, and returned his attention to Admiral Herobnic, but not before glancing at his watch. “We have about four hours before this entire exercise is pointless, Admiral. Let’s get under way.”
The admiral visibly swallowed. There: the order had been given. It was as if the command shifted the reality of the room. Everyone adjusted their stances, or blinked sweat out of their eyes, or sucked in deep breaths. The world had been altered somehow, the eye of the storm passed and the first mad winds beginning to howl.
“All ahead,” Admiral Herobnic instructed the helmsman, then, to the Chief Radio Operator: “Instruct the fleet that the assault is beginning.”
Avery took turns with the admiral and Sheridan watching through the periscope. The thousands of squid-ships of King Marqua-thon guided the great metal vessels of Ghenisa and the Ysstral Empire toward a certain coral valley, which, sure enough, had been completely overgrown or filled in by the malevolent blue coral, Tragulocnabath.
“Proceed,” said Avery.
“Attack,” ordered the admiral, and the hundreds of submarines of the fleet, as well as the thousands of squid-ships, began to blast the blue coral. The charges of the squid-ships were devastating, augmented as they were by Ygrithan technology, but even more deadly were the torpedoes of the subs. The torpedoes had been outfitted with Ygrithan energy bombs and were far more brutal than the simple (if enhanced) blasts of the squid-ships.
The blue coral melted away, streamers dissolving into the water, which began to boil as Tragulocnabath grew agitated. The walls of blue flesh squirmed and defended themselves. Tragulocnabath extruded its stomachs to dissolve and devour the squid-ships. It squirted clouds of acid to wilt the submarines. It poisoned and crushed and slashed and grasped.
And died. The massive coral was mighty, but it stood no chance against the combined assault of the Gaelythans and the submarine fleet. Gradually the walls of flesh began to fold back, then Tragulocn
abath withdrew itself from the canyon in ever-faster globs, whole slopes of strange flesh sucked back into the holes in the exoskeleton. The fleets cruised into the now-revealed canyon, still firing, and Tragulocnabath vanished before them like a shadow before the sun, or like a bad dream upon waking.
Marqua-thon’s fleet took the lead, navigating through the twists and turns, of which there were many. There wasn’t just one canyon but a multitude, an entire interlinked labyrinth leading to Xicor’ogna, and Avery was glad for the presence of the Gaelythans.
At one point an ensign popped onto the bridge from the engine room, blood on her uniform. “Sir, one of the squid-ships tried to eat Ensign Grason.”
“Did it succeed?” asked the admiral.
“No, sir. The ensign’s being transferred to the medical bay even now.”
Admiral Herobnic turned to Avery. “Sir? They’re your ships.”
Avery wondered how the two squid-ships he and Sheridan piloted were doing tucked away in the torpedo room; the submersible bay there had been outfitted to accommodate the organic vessels, facilitating easy coming and going by Avery and Sheridan; the arrangement had proven useful in dealing with Marqua-thon and might prove useful again.
“Feed them some fish,” Avery said. “You still have a supply, don’t you?”
The ensign nodded, her face pale. “I hate to get too close to them, sir.”
“If their bellies are full, they’re harmless. Make sure their bellies are full.”
The ensign nodded and slipped forward again, to the torpedo room. Avery imagined the young woman gingerly feeding the great squids and almost smiled. Sheridan too looked amused. Still, it was a dangerous business.
The sub groaned around them as the helmsman guided the submarine down a channel, taking the turn at a speed brisker than Avery was comfortable with. Hopefully the man knew what he was doing. Not for the first time, Avery wished Sheridan had had some experience with submarines; otherwise he would have been tempted to appoint her helmsman, if nothing else.