The waters beneath him swallowed even the darkness. Light did not fade so much as squeeze to death, leading to the real bottom, the old ocean floors that would never freeze. Those depths were the true dark. Somewhere down there was where all Fish went. The currents rising from them, lashing upwards to the surface were suddenly drawn back down like giant tentacles, carrying ripples that spoke of minds.
In the depths, day or night, reality or Dream, who knew? In his sleep, he could feel other Dreamers circling him. Unlike at the surface, where the other Dreamers were shadows and shapes barely glimpsed beneath the surface, underwater he knew their evil, their care, their disdain, their disinterest, their love, their amusement; but above all, even in the deepest Dream, when things he couldn’t see and could not bear to, loomed over and around him in his sleep, he knew that he was safe.
The recruits were not. Nights could go by without an incident, but one day three never woke up, two were never found, and one could not be identified for missing a head, suit, and skin.
“Do you have any idea what’s happening to them, Dad?”
Some recruits spoke of darker shadows, moving faster than the currents, of muffled noises around them on nights when their companions disappeared, of deafening sounds and a stink of decomposing flesh.
The Fish feigned incomprehension; they were too far ahead in the mission to cause further panic by voicing speculations. It helped reassure the recruits that Fish died and went missing too, floating away when the Dream took them.
“I don’t know, Son. None of this has ever happened in Fish memory that I know of. Told Khadivi about them. They’re trained and they knew what they were getting into, but they’re not clawing off their own faces in their sleep or drifting off careless, I can tell you that much...”
What his father did not dare voice was the presence of the Dreamers, the sense of looming beings in the night, the sense of safety the Fish all shared, inevitably translated into one, or several, dead recruits.
Never was a Fish found eviscerated and fed on in the morning. Sea creatures could be as vicious as they were playful, attack with blinding speed in the blind waters. Jellyfish, brainless and indiscriminate in the thousands, and things with mouths... But in the Dream there was always safety, safety until morning.
Chunks of flesh and suit were still tied to the rocky surface, nibbled on by tiny eels working their way around the fibre in the suit, stripping them clean of bits of bone and sinew.
“We found three more partially eaten corpses like this.” Ari added, “The other three...gone...”
His father nodded gravely and floated away mumbling “I told them, I told them...”
Once they installed the relay stations, the recruits would be safer, and it would be possible for them to keep guard and alternate working shifts. They would be safer.
“West... West... West...” Their teammate Rebecca’s communications were erratic, confusing and often rhythmical. For days, between flashes of lucidity, she kept muttering the same word over the com-lines. ‘West, west, west...’ he could not shut her out without cutting himself off from the network, so he endured on. They would lose her any day now, and the sooner the better, for them as well as for her.
“Becky, we’re heading north-northwest,” someone would chime in every now and then, keeping Rebecca focused enough so she would not try to head back southeast in the opposite direction she urged them towards.
It was a burden they all shared, and none of them wanted to be alone when the Dream and reality became indistinguishable, but it had been down to him for several days, and he didn’t bother to respond to her anymore, just as long as she kept pace.
Things were easier now that they had left the recruits at the relay stations with supplies. They were swimming over a city called Budapest, or what remained of it. There was nothing left to offer in the city or in the nuclear power plants further north. Bridge foundations remained intact, but everywhere metal frames spiked out of shattered buildings, massive structures open to the waters, with rows of seats surrounding empty stages, flooded plazas covered in rock and algae. From above, you could clearly tell where the river used to flow under bridges and around the central island. All of the city’s wealth in wiring, batteries, glass, plastic—anything that could be used, fixed, or recycled—had been plundered by generation after generation of Fish.
They would head northwest from here towards France and with luck, the ice would have retreated far enough that land would be free up to London and most of the old industrial zones that were open to scavenging.
Or so Jonah hoped.
Without luck England would still be under, Northern France would be iced over already, and if the ice had reached the Western Alps then they would have to double back and pray; it would be the last winter before returning to the Cave.
The recruits had held them back more than they’d expected. They were over a week behind; a few more days and it would be the longest Ari had ever spent underwater, and never this long over Europe. He had been as far as Istanbul, and much further southeast for oil, where most Fish missions went. He could have reached here sooner, but this was a different route, further southwest towards Lebanon, then north to Greece to install another relay station before B-Team headed west towards Spain and A-Team caught currents heading north. We should have sent Rebecca along with them.
Ari hated himself for thinking that way, but couldn't help it. Before the Dream took you, some of the things you said had meaning. Most of them did not. Sometimes they were prophetic, but prophecy is as much a matter of minutes as of centuries; it will happen sooner or later, and you would lose your mind trying to decipher every random thought.
“B-Team, do you copy? B-Team, do you copy? We have reached Munich and found evidence of deep icing at the bottom. What is the situation in Spain? I repeat, what is the situation in Spain?” Jonah vocalised on the com-lines.
With the winter it was not uncommon for communications to go out for a few days between teams. Any change in the ice cap could muddle communications over very long distances.
Jonah switched frequencies to the recruits at the relay stations. “Relay Station 2, do you copy?”
“We copy, A-Team.”
“Relay Station 2, inform the council that ice has encroached to Munich, I repeat, ice has encroached to Munich. By our estimates the glaciers must be no further than 3-400 miles north-northwest. North-northeast might be safer, but not for very long. Water has solidified overhead. Relay Station 2, do you copy?”
“We copy, A-Team. We will inform the Council and communicate their instructions. A-Team, do you copy?”
“We copy, Relay Station 2. On stand-by for instructions.”
Ari spun. “West, Ari! West!” Rebecca’s voice exploded through the com-lines propelling him backwards into a tower. For a second an orca appeared where she floated, swallowed by a lantern-eyed beast the size of the buildings beneath him.
“Ari? What fool games are you playing? If there was anything here we wouldn’t be picking ice out of our noses,” Jonah said pointing upwards. “See how thin the crust is? It’s pretty damn sharp too, so don’t tempt it.” His father’s voice was thick with nerves.
Ari shook himself out of the rubble and floated up to his father. “I’m sorry, did you not see that!?” he yelled through the com-unit, pointing at empty waters.
Jonah followed his finger. “See what?”
“Becky! She was right there, she...” His voice trailed off when he saw nothing behind him but cerulean flows.
Panic registered beneath his father’s helmet. He activated a sensor meant for locking arms to half-ton transport cubes, and clamped Ari’s shoulders, the sudden pressure nearly breaking bones and sending a flash of searing pain through his skull. “Kid... Becky’s gone. Do you understand me?”
Ari started heaving frantically into his breathing unit. Jonah unclenched a hand, turned it, and caught Ari across the face with a blow, while his other hand kept him from spinning.
; “When was the last time you saw her?”
“Just a moment ago...she was right behind me before she-”
Ari turned around, looking upwards and downwards; all five hundred Fish left in A-Team were focused on them—some swam in concentric and overlapping circles around the group but all com-units were silent—intent on the conversation. None appeared to have seen Rebecca, or an orca, or a giant stomach with teeth, or heard a Fish burst into whale song.
“When was the last time you remember her interacting with the team? Anybody but you?” Jonah’s words were slow, and the deafening silence on the com-waves made the ocean feel like a Priest, his tilted head passing judgement.
“About...four days ago, she kept babbling on, same as she had for days, she started drifting east. I caught up with her, and turned her back our way. Been keeping an eye on her ever since.”
“Son, Rebecca was gone in the morning, she drifted off in the night...and she’s been behind you since?”
He didn’t answer. The A-Team kept floating around them effortlessly. He should have been worried, his father was, but Rebecca’s voice in the Dream, while terrified, had sounded helpful.
Jonah shook his head. “It’s fine. Night will be on us in a few hours.” He raised his voice. “We’ll bunk in the buildings and wait for word from the Council. The centre of the city has the most remaining structures; we’ll stay in groups of ten within a one-mile radius. We’ll reconvene in nine hours if we haven’t received word. Understood? Good. Ari, you bunk with me.”
The ice was thicker nine hours later. The glaciers had moved southeast enough that the water gleamed with thin particles of ice pushing south.
“Relay Station 2, do you copy? This is A-Team, do you copy?” Jonah said through the network.
“We copy, A-Team. We have just received word from Relay Station 1. You are to stand-by, A-Team; I repeat, stand-by. An emergency session of the Council was called to discuss matters. We have received word from B-Team that significant progress was made in Spain. Stand-by for further instructions. I repeat, stand-by for further instructions. A-Team, do you copy?”
“We copy, Relay Station 2. It’s getting rough out here. Ten to twelve hours. Tops. We will expect word from you. In exactly twelve hours I will give orders to consolidate at your location until further communications. Relay Station 2, do you copy?”
“We copy, A-Team. We’ll be passing on instructions soon. Hang in tight.”
Exactly eleven hours later, just as Jonah was giving orders to double back, Relay Station 2 broke silence. “A-Team, do you copy? A-Team, this is Relay Station 2. A-Team, do you copy?”
“We copy, Relay Station 2. About to lift camp. I repeat, about to lift camp. Relay Station 2, do you copy?”
Temperatures had plummeted since the last contact with the relay station. Where thin particles of ice lit up the dark only a few hours ago, the water was now thick with them, almost slush. Another few hours, less, and the slush would thicken, coagulate, and harden until the moving glacier solidified, creating explosions on the surface, like a giant’s thump blowing dust in every direction, blasting ice further south into the waters ahead.
“We copy, A-Team. B-Team is heading back east from Spain. You are to reconvene over Sicily and help with transport. I repeat, reconvene with B-Team over Sicily and help with transport. A-Team, do you copy?”
“We copy, Relay Station 2. Requesting explanation for the delay in communications. Do you copy? Requesting explanation for the delay.”
There was a long pause before the relay’s response. “We copy, A-Team. A flash storm heading north-northwest hit the colony overnight—communications were disrupted for ten hours. A-Team, do you copy?”
“We copy, Relay Station 2. Relay Station 2, the glaciers are moving faster than anticipated. Conditions over Munich deteriorating exponentially, I repeat, conditions over Munich deteriorating exponentially. At going rates, we will never be more than a few hours ahead of the ice. I repeat; we will never be more than a few hours ahead of the ice. We may have to evacuate Relay Stations after contact with B-Team. Relay Station 2, do you copy?”
“We copy, A-Team, and thank you for fair warning. On stand-by until you make contact over Sicily. Repeat, on stand-by until contact in Sicily. Over and out.”
Priority communications shut down and no one spoke until Amir cleared his throat on the com-line and spun a few back flips for show. Amir made everything he said sound like he was coughing up spite. “Haven’t heard of a north-northeast storm, flash or otherwise, heading for the colony this season since never. My old man might have said something about that but the Dream took him, and he was drunk most of the time so who knows?”
Laughter rang on the com-line. Amir spun a few more back flips and cleared his throat again. He would die before the Dream took him, and that shouldn’t be long. No living Fish had known his father; at nearly sixty Amir was the oldest Fish alive.
“Incoming!” a voice ahead of him rang through the com-lines.
Ari sensed the temperatures drop against his face and barely ducked as a streak of frozen shards, several feet long and sharp as cut diamonds, circumvented a bend in the mountainside along a meddling current, and landed directly in front of him. The two Fish swimming immediately behind were less fortunate, and the waters flashed a momentary red.
The frozen peaks of the Alps towered above the icecap, but beneath, the titanic bodies of the mountains shifted the currents, creating powerful flash maelstroms, yanking Fish into boulders and caves, and smashing them against cliffs.
The ice would move faster in some areas than others, dashing into crevasses and between the stone giants only to reverse its course and rip through the swimmers.
Navigation was difficult, communication worse, and they were getting ever less sleep, never more than a few hours rest when conditions were good, and they seldom were. They doubled down in clear streams and they would wake in pre-glacier slush, but worse, the Dream was free of Dreamers. After weeks of feeling their presence it was discomfiting to sleep without them. On any day, hours could go by without sensing them, but now they were gone entirely.
They rested in cities only twice, and only because the weather conditions made sleeping along cliff walls too dangerous. In both Milan and Naples, buildings came down on the Fish during the night, and the slush infiltrated respirators, oxygen converters, and filters.
By the time they reached Sicily there was no sign of B-Team, but the ice had slowed its rapid progress south, the bulk of the glacier still working its way around the Alps.
“Relay Station 2, this is A-Team, do you copy?” Jonah said.
“We copy, A-Team. Over.”
“There is no sign of B-Team, I repeat, no sign of B-Team. The ice is gaining ground, but the mountains are in the way. Evacuate Relay Station 2, consolidate at Relay Station 1. I repeat, evacuate and consolidate at Relay Station 1. Relay Station 2, do you copy?”
“Copy, A-Team. Good luck. Over.”
They would need luck. The Dream was taking them in droves, and several Fish would go missing at a time, falling behind and into the deeper slush. Some would emerge and fall back in again, slower in their movements, weaker in resisting the currents.
Ari held on to sanity for Jonah, and Zohar at home, but fear rode the Dream—not his own fear, although it was there too and blurred his vision almost constantly now. Behind him, he caught a reflection of a whale in the ice wall where there was no ice, and no whale.
Around him and ahead of him was thickening slush, even where the waters were clear. His limbs fell numb as he swam, as if they were not his own. Perhaps the other Fish were all feeling the same thing. If it were not for Jonah’s constant surveillance, he would have fallen behind too.
Relay Station 2 was deserted as expected; the slush had not reached the station from the north, confirming that the northeast was still relatively quiet, yet the recruits had packed all the equipment, including chargers for the propulsion engines, food and energy packs, and oxygen f
ilters.
“Relay Station 1, do you copy? Relay Station 1?” Jonah asked on the line.
The com-line was silent.
“B-Team, do you copy? This is A-Team, do you copy?”
“A-Team, this is B-Team, do you copy?”
“We copy, B-Team. Over.”
“A-Team! This is B-Team, do you copy?” the voice sounded panicked.
“We copy, B-Team, keep calm. Do you copy?” Jonah asked again.
“A-Team, do you copy?! A-Team?! A-Team, head east now! I repeat! Head-” An explosion sounded on the com-line and communication stopped.
“B-Team? B-Team, do you copy? B-Team!”
His father’s yelling on the com-line shook Ari out of the Dream long enough for him to assess the situation coldly: B-Team had lost contact, Relay Stations 1 and 2 were deserted, and it took twenty hours altogether, twenty hours, for the Council to communicate instructions...
Relay Station 1 was not only abandoned, it was sabotaged. Perhaps, if they hadn’t needed to let Amir distract them from the obvious, they would have paid closer attention to what he had said about flash storms this season, and started adding up. Not since never? Maybe his old man? No one had ever met Amir’s old man; he had been dead forty years or more, and if Amir could not be sure... It took a few minutes for each member of the team to put the last few days together, but someone had to ask.
“Jonah. When you met with the councilman, what were his reasons for this mission?”
Fish missions seldom headed north. Monitoring missions would travel regularly to measure changes in the glaciers and alert the colony to ice moving south. But Europe was always intermittently under ice now, most missions headed south, over the Gulf, for oil reserves that were immediately available and easier to transport. Those waters teemed with submarine life, some benign, some not. But in these waters, abandoned by the Dreamers, sifting through the equipment left behind at Relay Station 2, running out of oxygen, food, sleep, and power, finding only enough propulsion engines to get a handful safely back to a colony that had already decided on their fate...
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