The Atomic Sea: Part Five: Flaming Skies

by Conner, Jack

  A dark, limping shape approached through the fog—Sheridan. Lank hair fell before her eyes. She clutched her upper left arm, but Avery didn’t think her environment suit had been ruptured. “I’m fine, too, in case you were wondering,” she said.

  Avery glared at her. “How do you cure Ani?”

  She clicked her tongue wearily. “When I’m safe.”

  Avery turned to Layanna. Serene and beautiful, she still floated inside her sac of phantasmagorical flesh, her tentacles plunged into the rippling silvery sphere. Gods, would she never finish working on the thing? He felt sweat drip from his brow. He moved to wipe it away, saw blood on his fingers. It barely registered.

  Suddenly he hurried toward the ladder and rushed downstairs.

  “Ani!” he called, heart in his throat. “Ani!”

  The door sealing the three Octunggen crewmen in had swung outward, and as Avery blasted by it he noted the forms of three bodies riddled by gunfire and heaped in a pile, blood pooled around them.

  Dear gods! Not Ani, too!

  He tore open the stateroom door. She was pinned against the wall by the bed, which, though fixed to the floor, had torn loose and was now nearly crushing her. With all his strength, and it seemed to have tripled, he heaved the bed off her and crouched, checking for signs of life. The world seemed to stop.

  Little puffs of air misted her face-plate. He sagged against the wall, relief overwhelming him.

  “Ani, can you hear me?”

  He shook her gently and her eyes fluttered open. In a sleepy voice, she said, “Papa? Papa ... what ... what happened?”

  He crushed her to his chest with one arm, careful of the burning silver rod in the other. “We crashed, honey. We’re on the sea. But everything’s okay.” He looked around. He thought he heard the gurgle of water somewhere, but the stateroom wasn’t flooded. It couldn’t be long now, though. But gods knew what would happen on top in the next few minutes.

  “Stay here,” he said. “If it starts to flood, even if you just see a little water, I want you to come topside immediately. Until then stay here. Okay?” When she didn’t immediately answer, he pressed, “Okay?”

  She nodded. “I’m scared, Papa.”

  “Me, too.”

  He returned to the deck. A steady breeze blew across the sea, stirring the fog and making it seem to move of its own accord. Strange lights flickered to the east, and he couldn’t tell if they were caused by flora, fauna or some specific phenomenon. He supposed it didn’t matter.

  Janx and Hildra were checking their guns, making sure they were ready and loaded. Frederick was staring up at the battle through vun Cuvastaq’s telescope.

  “The Over-City’s getting closer,” he said.

  The body of the colonel himself had been pitched against the gunwale, and already some sort of mottled emerald crabs had found it and were ripping into his flesh. Avery shooed them away but knew it would only stop them for a moment.

  He saw Sheridan eyeing the extradimensional weapons, the three long crackling lances. Layanna was not far away ...

  “Don’t even think about it,” he told her.

  “What?” Sheridan said. “I’m your ally, remember.”

  “Some ally.”

  They scowled at each other for a minute, then the fight seemed to go out of her.

  “Thank you, by the way,” she said. “For taking me on board.”

  He nodded, his own anger leaving. “Thank you for Admiral Jons.”

  “Oh, fuck it all.” The voice was Hildra’s.

  She and Janx were staring at something in the direction of the battle, but on the level of the sea. A boat? Avery moved next to them and studied the water. Through the fog, he could see little.

  “What ... ? Oh, no.”

  The fog shifted, and he had to clutch the gunwale for support. It was a great turbulence in the water, a sort of V shape, churning and bubbling and alive with malice—and it was coming right for them.

  “Is it him?” Janx said.

  Frederick observed the phenomenon through the telescope. “Too far away,” he said. “But it’s gotta be, right?”

  Hildra grabbed one of the black lances, Janx another.

  “To hell with that,” Frederick said, when Hildra offered him the third. “I don’t want to get that close.”

  Shrugging, she passed him her other-dimensional gun. He looked at it doubtfully, and Avery didn’t blame him. Avery had tried to kill Uthua with just such a weapon in Golna and it had proven useless.

  “Guess it’s better than this,” Frederick said, patting the knife depending from his utility belt. “But this is it, isn’t it? We’re all going to die.”

  “Probably,” Hildra said. “If you want, you can hide below.”

  “And miss the fun? No. Never thought I’d live this long, anyway. At least I won’t go down with a needle in my arm. And dying’s gotta be better than withdrawal.”

  Sheridan cleared her throat. “May I ... ?” She gestured to the third lance, held by Janx.

  The big man almost smiled, but it was not with humor. “I don’t think so.”

  Her mouth tightened.

  The thing in the water—Uthua, surely—drew closer. Avery could make out the black mass, the thick tentacles trailing behind. Still far out yet, but soon ...

  Avery glanced around, casting about blindly, he didn’t know for what. It was when he noticed Sheridan that he paused. There was a strange look on her face. A look of ... satisfaction. She was watching Uthua come in like death itself and looking satisfied about it. When she noticed him, the look dropped away.

  “Sheridan—”

  “What?”

  It was then that he got it. Everything clicked into place. “You weren’t arrested at all, were you?” he said. Uthua was far, yet. Avery had time to learn the truth before he died.

  “You saw me arrested yourself,” she said.

  He shook his head, hardly believing it. “Only ... yes, but only in the way police informants are arrested with the sweep, to make it look convincing to the real targets in case the informant’s services are needed again. That’s right, isn’t it? But that means ... that means it was you that informed on your own side! You’re the one that betrayed the Red Hand! But ... but why?”

  She gazed at him, and it was a long, steady look.

  “I’m sorry, Doctor, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Once again he switched his attention to Uthua, then back to Sheridan. He would know the truth.

  “You must have gone along with the Red Hand’s plan, to use Layanna, just to keep them playing their parts before the arrest,” he said. “It’s what they expected of you, or ... maybe . . . no ...” He grunted. “You only mentioned the Hand after we got the better of you, when you needed to convince us we shared common cause in overthrowing the Collossum. You would never have brought the Red Hand into it at all if you hadn’t needed them in that moment. And when you came to me on the platform, with your gun in hand ...” He felt cold. “You were going to kill me and ... and activate the Device yourself. It was only when you saw me waving at the yacht that you stopped.”

  Her face was hard. She said nothing.

  “I can’t believe it,” Avery said. “I just don’t understand why—”

  “Get ready!” Janx bellowed. “Here it comes!” He and Hildra readied their extradimensional staffs.

  The churning water, and whatever was beneath it, shot straight for them. Uthua, if it was he, was in his natural habitat. Avery could still only see a vague, monstrous mass hurtling toward them through the water, fog stirring above it. He braced himself, coiling the silver lance as if it were a weapon, and perhaps it could be. The conventional gun at his side wouldn’t do any good, and he could not wield the rod and the third extradimensional staff at the same time.

  He staggered under a sudden pain that nearly knocked him to his knees. Uthua, it had to be. With all his resolve, Avery straightened. Beside him, the others wore the same looks of pain that he su
rely did. Frederick, gun clutched in one hand, had pressed both palms over his ears. Only Sheridan looked at peace, as if she suffered no discomfort at all.

  Avery started to snap something at her, but then he noticed something else. Behind Sheridan, Layanna stirred. For the first time in minutes, Layanna’s human self opened her eyes. Her expression was radiant.

  Her lips moved. Avery heard no words, not physically, but in his mind formed the beautiful phrase, couched in Layanna’s soft voice, It’s done.

  Hope filled him. He started toward her—

  Uthua struck.

  The impact knocked Avery off his feet. Tossed him to the ground like a discarded bone. Spitting blood, he swiveled around. The rod smoked against the deck. He jerked it free.

  Uthua, a mountain of otherworldly black flesh, towered above him even though he was twenty feet or more away. The near-Elder had struck the stern and grabbed the ship with his many limbs, tilting it downward with his immense weight even as he hoisted himself onto the deck. He was massive, though, and he only glommed onto it in sections, slipping onto the wet, broken expanse of wood like some great black sea serpent rising from the depths, tentacles and pseudopods smashing gunwales and tearing out planks all around him. The air shook. Reality splintered. Uthua’s ammonia reek, chittering noises and unwholesome lights filled the air.

  A tendril lashed at Janx. The big man had been flung to the deck, too, and he was closest to Uthua. The tilt of the deck made him slide toward the terrible R’loth. Slipping, unable to find a handhold, Janx pressed a button on the black staff he carried. The other had been lost. Its end burst with blue light. With a roar, he stabbed it at the tentacle, which recoiled, sparks flashing.

  Uthua bellowed. The roar was both audible and psychic. The whole ship rocked.

  Uthua struck at Janx again. Again. Tentacles flailed and lashed. Janx rolled, one way, then another, staff crackling with blue light. With every flash, a dark, dripping limb recoiled.

  Hildra, who had caught herself on the netting that draped the gunwales, threw herself into the battle and stabbed with her own sparking lance. Black flesh heaved. Strange lights exploded from inside Uthua with every blow.

  Frederick, further up the deck, closer to Avery, fired and fired into Uthua, using Hildra’s extradimensional gun. Uthua lashed out at him. Frederick ducked and wove. Fired again. But Uthua was too quick. He wrenched Frederick off the deck and passed unearthly venom into him. Frederick screamed, his face turning red, and burst into flames.

  Layanna’s eyes latched onto Uthua with fury. She seemed torn between proceeding with activating the Device or engaging the near-Elder in combat. But if she didn’t do the latter there would not be time to do the former. Her gaze settled on Avery.

  It’s up to you, he heard in his head.

  She placed the Device back in the round depression in the open trunk, which had been lashed to the deck, then gathered herself and surged directly at Uthua. She struck him with a blow that sent shockwaves through air, deck and mind, and Avery could not help but scream as the two Collossum collided. Frederick, still aflame, was hurled through the air to crack against the gunwale and collapse into the water, which quenched the fires that engulfed him.

  Layanna tore into Uthua with a savagery Avery had never seen before in her, plunging her tentacles into him, filling him with fire and poison, ripping out gobs of flesh which flamed and burned as soon as they were separated from him.

  Uthua ripped into her brutally in turn. Bulwarks of dark, phantasmagorical flesh slammed down on her, sending bright, searing pulses throughout her whole body. Where he struck, her organelles withered. He thrust his thick, awful tentacles through her amoebic wall and toward her fragile human body. If he reached her, if he managed to destroy her human self, the rest would follow.

  Screaming and shouting wordless cries of battle, Janx and Hildra stabbed into Uthua, their strikes lighting him with blue flashes. He bucked with every strike, but he was too powerful. He was almost an Elder. Their weapons could only hurt him, not kill him. But they did slow his destruction of Layanna.

  Avery, gritting his teeth, gripping the silver spear, pulled himself hand over hand toward the Device. His knees scraped the wood, as did the heels of his hands, but he hardly noticed. All he could see was the Device, round and glimmering and silvery, the only hope for mankind, misty in the fog. Behind him, the battle raged, but he forced himself not to look.

  The Device approached ... approached ...

  Sheridan slammed into him. She attacked from the side opposite the rod. Kicked him in the neck. Another blow to his ribs. He rolled.

  He punched her in the stomach. His fist rebounded. She punched him in the nose. The world faded. Another blow landed on his jaw. He jerked backward. She kicked his crotch. He doubled over. She punched at his throat. The angle was wrong. She clipped his chin instead. His head shot back.

  She threw herself at him.

  Gasping, he edged back. Back. She came on, murder in her eyes.

  “But why?” he choked.

  “You fool.”

  She punched him. Kicked him. He didn’t have long.

  Desperate, he thrust at her with the lance. Hit her in the chest. Black smoke rose up. She screamed and hurled herself backward. He could not tell how badly she was hurt.

  Grunting, he heaved himself toward the Device.

  Sheridan clutched at his ankle.

  “No,” she said. “Don’t ... If you do it, Ani will die.”

  He tried to pull loose, but her fingers dug tight.

  “Why?” he said. “Why do you want that thing to win?” He tilted his chin toward Uthua. “Your side lost! You should be siding with humanity!”

  Her eyes blazed. “I am. You idiot, I am.”

  “How? By handing us over to them?”

  He tore loose of her and hauled himself toward the Device. As he went, he heard her calm, implacable voice behind him. It was her most serious, grim tone, trying to impart something important to him.

  “Francis,” she said, slowly, calmly, as if he were a spooked horse, “if we let Octung win, they will transform all humankind into people like you. Slaves and food for the R’loth. But we will continue to exist.”

  “What—what—?” He hauled himself closer. The Device grew larger in his vision.

  “What do you think will happen if they don’t win?”

  The wind blew cold. Just for a moment, he paused.

  “Yes!” she said, seizing on it. “What will their masters do then? What will the R’loth do if Octung loses?”

  He imaged great, awful beings, beings who had never undergone the transformation to human like Layanna and the other Collossum, things who could not even conceive of the thought patterns of humanity, emerge, dripping and wrathful and unknowable, from the blackest depths of the Atomic Sea and sowing terror and destruction upon the world.

  Sheridan sensed his understanding. “If Octung loses, they will rise. And you can’t beat them.”

  He reached the Device. With swears and gasps, he pulled himself waveringly to his feet. The deck was tilted, but he could stand, if he tried hard enough.

  No, he thought. She was wrong. She must be. She must be.

  The Device glimmered below, all silvery and bright, its surface dappled and moving like water, but slowly, as if it were molten. It was ready. Finally. The lock was ready to be turned. He could almost hear it calling to him. The spear thrummed in anticipation.

  “No!” Sheridan said, struggling to drag herself toward him.

  With effort, he ignored her. In both hands, he hoisted the lightning rod over his head. All he had to do was plunge it home and the war would end. It would all be over. Behind him, his friends swore and screamed. Uthua bellowed. The deck trembled.

  Avery poised his arms to impale the Device.

  “No!” Sheridan said. “Do it and Ani dies!” This was her last bargaining chip. “I won’t cure her. She’ll die and the world will follow.”

  He grit his teeth. “N
o. I don’t believe it.”

  “I’ll do it!”

  He raised the spear, just a fraction, coiled his muscles to ram it into the silvery surface of the Device, started to bring it down—

  Something tore it out of his hands.

  Startled, Avery spun about. Uthua, raging and lashing the air, had seen what he was about to do and was hauling himself toward him. Sheridan had delayed Avery just enough—

  Uthua unleashed a psychic blow so strong that Avery stumbled back. He saw that Janx and Hildra had fallen. Both still moved, but they were bloody and battered, both clutching gunwales for support. Layanna’s sac had been ripped and much of it eaten away, but she still lived inside it, weak and strained. As he watched, the sac faded.

  Avery backed away from the towering, awful mass of Uthua. A thick tendril curled around the silver spear. Avery had not been swayed by Sheridan’s words, but once again he had allowed her to make him look over the abyss. He hadn’t leapt, but looking was enough. His hesitation had cost them the war. No, please no, it can’t end like this.

  Uthua, swollen and awful, slithered up the deck toward the Device—

  “No.”

  It was a small, ragged voice.

  Frederick.

  Limp and weary, most of his environment suit torn away by the otherworldly flames, his extradimensional gun lost, he struggled to his feet, shedding the remains of blackened suit as he did. Fog churned about him. He sucked in the toxic air in harsh wheezes, his eyes tearing. Already infection would be passing into him.

  Janx and Hildra, too weary and sore to move, could only stir feebly toward him.

  Frederick gathered himself and seemed to shake off his pain. Wind stirred over the deck, whipping his unkempt salt-and-pepper hair around his head. His scarred, drug-ravaged face looked especially noble at the moment, and his eyes held a sinister glint. In his hand gleamed his knife.

  Not noticing him, Uthua reached the Device and loomed above it. He would take it with him and vanish back into the sea—after killing them all, surely. He had merely to secure it—

  Frederick climbed onto the gunwale. Arms out to either side, he trotted down its length toward Uthua’s broad, gelatinous back. Layanna had savaged the near-Elder, not as badly as he had savaged her, but his sac was smaller than it had been. Perhaps only five feet separated his mortal self, the body of Muirblaag, from his amoebic wall.