Forces from Beyond

by Simon R. Green

  The Captain gave a series of quiet orders, and the crew moved quickly to obey, carrying off the half dozen dead and helping the wounded. There were a few resentful glances at the new arrivals, but no-one said anything. One crewman set to work with a mop and bucket, cleaning up the blood before it had a chance to dry.

  “I suppose I should be grateful you’re not better shots,” said Katt.

  “I was shooting to wound,” said Latimer.

  “Speak for yourself,” said Melody. She caught JC looking at her and glared back at him. “We are on the run from everybody and under attack from all quarters. Those bastards opened fire on us without even checking who we were! I am way past the point of playing nice and turning the other cheek!”

  “I know,” said JC. “But when did you start enjoying it so much, Mel?”

  Melody glanced at Happy, sitting slumped and exhausted on his crate. Her mouth tightened into a straight line. “I need to have something I can fight . . .”

  “Somehow, I knew this would all turn out to be my fault,” said Happy, not looking up.

  “My apologies for the reception,” Katt said stiffly. “We’re all on edge. And I am under orders to ensure no harm comes to the scientists on board. I’m told their work is important for Humanity’s survival.” He smiled, briefly. “Not the kind of work I’m used to in the Project.”

  “Don’t get too used to it, Captain,” Chang said briskly. “This is a strictly temporary situation.”

  “Let us all fervently hope so,” said Katt. He glanced at Latimer. “You did well, against such odds. Your people are lucky to be alive.”

  Kim stepped out of JC and smiled dazzlingly at the Captain. “Luck had nothing to do with it.”

  The Captain seemed more shocked than startled, then openly appalled. He looked to Chang, who just shrugged.

  “She does that. You’ll get used to it.”

  “You’ve brought the dead on board my ship?” said Katt, his voice rising. “As well as enemy agents from the Institute?”

  “Think of us as rogues,” said JC.

  “You don’t want to know what I’m thinking,” said Katt.

  “Play nicely with our new friends, Captain,” said Chang. “They have top-security rating, for now, which means they get to hear everything. These orders come from the top. The very top. We are here to put an end to the Flesh Undying, once and for all.”

  “You have to admire her ambition,” said Melody.

  The Captain nodded slowly. “Vivienne MacAbre already contacted us. She thought you might choose to come here directly. Without going through proper channels, or giving me proper warning. So she sent someone ahead of you—to represent her interests.”

  “Oh joy,” said Chang. “Anyone I know?”

  “I wouldn’t be at all surprised,” said Katt.

  | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |

  He took them up to the Moonchilde’s bridge. Somewhere along the way, Kim quietly disappeared. No-one saw her go, not even JC. He assumed she’d gone off on her own to check out the situation and make sure everything was as it was supposed to be. A ghost can cover a lot of ground, moving unseen and unsuspected, and it’s hard to hide anything from the dead. They see so much more clearly than the living because they have less distractions. JC supposed he approved of her caution. Just because they were temporarily allied with the Project didn’t mean they should let their guard down. It’s always the knife in the back you don’t see coming.

  When they finally got to the bridge, Vivienne MacAbre’s representative was already there waiting for them. The Baron Samedhi scarecrow stood at the rear of the bridge, silent and unmoving, resplendent in its morning suit and top hat. They could all feel the pressure of its gaze, somehow made even worse by the monocle glued to its face. The crew at their stations were doing their best to ignore it. Captain Katt scowled at the scarecrow.

  “Unnatural thing . . .”

  “I would have thought you were used to things like this,” said JC. “Working for the Project.”

  “I usually prefer to maintain a safe distance from MacAbre’s personal attack dogs,” growled Katt.

  JC looked to Chang. “Did you know that thing was going to be here?”

  “No,” said Chang. “I did not. I really don’t like people checking up on me.”

  Melody walked right up to the scarecrow and glared into its stitched-cloth face. “Why is it here? What does it do?”

  “I don’t know that, either,” said Chang. “MacAbre didn’t get to be Head of the Crowley Project by giving away her secrets. But given that this is her personal bodyguard . . . I wouldn’t turn my back on it if I were you.”

  “Have you seen it do anything?” JC said to the Captain.

  “No,” said Katt. “Not yet. Let’s go down to my cabin. We can talk privately there.”

  “If we can’t do that here,” said Latimer, “why bring us to the bridge in the first place?”

  “Because I wanted you to see what kind of representative MacAbre sent,” said Katt. “Just to remind you that even though we’re out in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean and miles from everywhere, it doesn’t mean we’re on our own. Big Sister is always looking over our shoulder.”

  | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |

  The Captain’s cabin turned out to be comfortably snug, with everything tucked and tidied away because that was the only way to fit everything in. There was only just room for all of them. Latimer sat on the narrow bed, with Happy and Melody jammed in beside her. JC and Chang had to stand, leaning against one wall, while Katt took the only chair. JC spotted a family photo on the far wall—of a perfectly ordinary-looking wife and two teenage daughters, smiling in the sun. JC wasn’t used to thinking of the Project’s agents, the evil opposition, as just . . . people, with families.

  Katt produced a bottle of whiskey from his desk and offered it around. Everyone declined. Katt shrugged and poured himself a large drink into a mug marked World’s Best Captain.

  “I never used to, but I do now. Everyone on board does. Stay here long enough, and you will too. In self-defence.”

  “I know the feeling,” said Happy. “Trust me; it never ends well.”

  “A report on the current situation if you please, Captain,” Chang said firmly. “Starting with, how many people do you have on board?”

  “Twenty-two crew, now,” said Katt. “Used to be thirty-six. Seven killed by forces unknown, one jumped overboard. Presumed drowned if he’s lucky. Six that you people shot.”

  “Moving on because I don’t care,” Chang said briskly. “What about the scientific contingent?”

  “Three,” said Katt. “Used to be five.”

  “Two killed?” said JC.

  “Sort of,” said Katt. He paused to take a large drink. It didn’t seem to help much. “Both suicides. One stabbed himself in the eyes, to stop him seeing things. When that didn’t work, he shot himself in the head. Three times. That man really wanted to die . . . The other scientist locked himself in his room and ate himself.”

  “What? All of him?” said Melody.

  “He made a damned good effort,” said the Captain. “But he bled out before he got very far.”

  “And you blame all of this on the Flesh Undying’s influence,” said Latimer. “Are we talking direct . . . or indirect?”

  “Who can say?” said Katt. He finished his drink and poured himself another. His hands were steady; but there was something a little lost about his eyes. The look of a man who’d been hit hard and hit often. And no longer knew how to defend himself.

  “What’s been happening with the Flesh Undying itself?” said Chang. “Have there been any changes in its situation since it destroyed your drone submersible?”

  Katt shrugged. “It hasn’t moved. Doesn’t appear to be doing anything, physically. But anything that gets too close, just dies. Used
to be an area roughly half a mile wide around it, where the local sea life had learned to stay clear. Then the perimeter widened, and things started dying again. The area is over a mile in diameter now and still growing. Every morning, I go up on deck and look over the side, and there are hundreds of dead fish lying belly-up on the surface. All around the ship . . .”

  “Why is it doing that?” said Latimer.

  “The scientists have their theories,” said Katt. “Lots of them. Which I’m sure they’ll be only too happy to share with you, till you scream at them to stop. But they don’t have any real answers. Who knows why this thing does anything it does?”

  “What else do we need to know, about life and death on the good ship Moonchilde?” said JC.

  “If you’re wise, you’ll get out now,” said Katt. “While you still can.”

  “Not an option,” Chang said immediately.

  Katt smiled at her. It wasn’t a pleasant smile. “Wait till you’ve been here a while. Till you’ve seen what walks this ship at night. Wait till you wake in the early hours of the morning and find something standing at the foot of your bed, watching you.”

  Chang smiled at him. “I love a midnight feast.”

  “What are we talking about here, really?” said JC. “Ghosts, demons, monsters? What?”

  The Captain looked at him steadily. “It starts with dreams. Then comes the shakes, hysterical fits, crying jags for no reason. Fights over things that don’t matter. Then your hair starts falling out, and something that looks like radiation burns, though the Geiger counter swears not. Accidents are always happening—bad ones, stupid ones. By men experienced enough to know better. It’s like all the luck on this ship has turned sour. I think . . . people just aren’t supposed to live near things like the Flesh Undying.”

  JC decided to change the subject. Partly because the Captain was starting to freak the hell out of people who were not easily freaked but mostly because he felt the need for a few facts, some hard information about the situation that he could get his teeth into.

  “How are your scientists studying the Flesh Undying? More drone submersibles?”

  “After what happened to the last one, we do everything from a safe distance now,” said the Captain.

  “I saw the scientific equipment on deck,” said Latimer.

  “There’s a lot more underwater,” said Katt. “Attached to the underside of the ship by Project divers. Mostly sensors, short – and long-range, and state-of-the-art information-gathering apparatus . . . I don’t know. I don’t understand that stuff. I just run the ship.”

  “Is there any chance we might be interrupted in our work?” said Chang.

  “Hardly,” said Katt. “We are way out in the Atlantic, a long way from anywhere. Nearest port is a month’s hard sailing; and anywhere half-way civilised would be even further. We are way off the main shipping routes, so we don’t have to worry about unexpected company. There’s no-one else out here but a whole bunch of fish. Mostly dead fish.”

  “Any whales?” said Happy. “I like whales.”

  The Captain shook his head. “They stay well away. They’ve got more sense.”

  “What if a spy satellite were to spot this ship and someone decided to investigate what we’re doing out here on our own?” said Latimer.

  “The scientists assure me the Moonchilde is very heavily shielded,” said Katt. He was on his third whiskey now, but his voice seemed entirely unaffected. “We are scientifically and psychically invisible.”

  “That kind of blind spot can attract attention,” said Latimer. “There are certain spy satellites specifically tasked to look for just such unnatural conditions and raise the alarm.”

  “How do you know shit like this?” said JC.

  “Hush, boy,” said Latimer. “Grown-ups talking.”

  “Let them look,” said the Captain. “No-one’s going to find us.”

  “Still, I think it would be a good idea to get a move on,” said Chang. “Don’t you?”

  | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |

  She went belowdecks, to check on what the scientists were doing. And then probably shout at them a lot. Melody insisted on taking Happy to a private cabin, so she could see he got some rest. No-one argued. He really wasn’t looking good. Latimer decided she could do with a rest as well. The Captain sorted them out two cabins, not far from his. And found himself left with JC.

  “You don’t have the look of someone in need of rest,” said Katt.

  “I don’t think I could sleep right now if you put a gun to my head loaded with industrial-strength tranquillizers,” said JC. “I’m still trying to sort out what use I can be here.”

  “I feel the same way, most of the time,” said Katt. “Let me give you the grand tour, such as it is.”

  They strolled through the ship together. The Captain seemed a little easier in JC’s company, now he had a few drinks inside him.

  “Are you people really on the run from the Institute?” he said finally.

  “Looks like it,” said JC. “Hopefully, we’ll be able to go back, someday.”

  “I used to feel that way, a long time ago,” said Katt. “You know, the way most Project people talk about Ghost Finder agents, I was expecting you to be a lot . . . spookier.”

  “We can be,” said JC. “Goes with the job. But I know what you mean; we feel the same way about the bad guys of the Crowley Project.”

  Katt shrugged. “Soldiers in a war are always taught to hate the other side. Makes the killing easier.”

  “There’s a war?” said JC.

  “So they tell me,” said Katt. “You must understand; I have no interest in ideology. I am in this strictly for the money. Once I have enough, I am out.”

  “Is there ever enough?” said JC.

  “Hell yes,” said Katt.

  They walked along the open deck, enjoying the view and the cool breeze of falling evening. The sky had darkened to a dull grey, and the waters around the ship seemed even darker, as though they were concealing secrets. Various crew members went about their work, keeping their distance.

  “So,” said JC. “These scientists . . . are they Project people?”

  “They are now,” said Katt. “The Moonchilde used to be their ship. The Project bought them out when it realised it needed a research ship out here in a hurry. Just threw money at the scientists until they couldn’t refuse. Then we replaced their crew with our own people and put the scientists to work for us. By the time they realised they wouldn’t be allowed to leave until the job was done, it was a bit late to complain.”

  “What were they doing, all the way out here?” said JC.

  “Mapping the sea bed, fish-migration patterns . . .” said Katt. “And a whole bunch of other stuff they tried to explain to me until I begged them to stop.”

  “Doesn’t sound like the most lucrative research,” said JC.

  “Probably why they jumped at the deal,” said Katt. “Our people installed new tech, and the scientists settled down to study the Flesh Undying. I’m told its true nature came as something of a shock to them.” The Captain paused, to smile wryly. “They do love their new toys, though. They’d never had access to sensors as powerful as ours.”

  “How did they react to the Flesh Undying once they’d had a good look at it?” said JC.

  “Fascinated at first, then horrified. Followed by quite a bit of vomiting, fits of the vapours and tears before bedtime. They would have cut and run; but by then I was here to make clear that wasn’t an option. Unless they wanted to swim home. Now I think they’re scared to stop working in case they miss something important. They spend every hour there is down in their own little bunker, studying every detail of the Flesh Undying. And arguing loudly with each other as to what it all means. Sometimes we have to remind them to stop and eat.”

  “They sound . . . very dedicated,” sai
d JC.

  “They keep talking about the important work they’re going to publish, once this is all over,” said Katt. “They must know they’ll never be allowed to talk about any of this, in public or in private. Assuming we survive, of course . . .” He stopped, to look thoughtfully at JC. “Did the Flesh Undying really come here from another reality?”

  “Yes,” said JC. “I saw it arrive.”

  “What the hell is there, outside our reality?”

  “Trust me,” said JC. “Nothing you’d want to see.”

  “Why did the Flesh Undying come here?” said Katt.

  “Put it this way,” said JC. “It didn’t jump; it was pushed. That’s why it’s so determined to get home again, even if it has to break this world apart to escape the ties that hold it here.”

  “What could hold something like that?”

  “Being Flesh,” said JC.

  “Conversations you never thought you’d have . . .” said Katt. “Let me take you down to visit the brains trust. See if they depress you as much as they do me.”

  | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |

  They went below, through narrow passageways and down steel ladders, until they couldn’t go any further. To where the scientists were tucked away in their own private lab, so they wouldn’t be interrupted while they were working. A series of locked bulkhead doors led to a long, narrow room packed with all the very latest equipment, and a great many illuminated monitor screens, presenting more constantly updated information than the mind could comfortably deal with. JC didn’t even try. Cool and characterless artificial light bathed everything because there were no port-holes this low on the ship.

  Chang was striding up and down, berating and bullying the scientists into providing her with the very latest information and not giving a damn when they plaintively complained that she was interrupting their work. She wasn’t happy to see JC and the Captain and sat sulkily in a corner as Katt introduced JC to the scientists.

  Dr. Darren Goldsmith was a neatly dressed man in his early fifties, with grey hair, grey eyes, and a grey personality. He was fine as long as he was talking about the things that interested him; everything else just sent him into shrugs and mumbles. Professor Bernie Hedley was a fast-talking New Yorker in his late twenties, wearing a Massive Attack T-shirt and shabby jeans. A man with too much personality for his own good. Dr. Ilse Hamilton was tall and stocky and Swedish, a faded blonde in her late thirties. And the only one wearing a white lab coat. They were all polite enough to JC, under the Captain’s watchful gaze, but it was clear they just wanted to get back to their work. Every time they finished answering one of JC’s questions, one or the other of them would look plaintively to Katt or Chang, hoping to be excused.