The League of Sharks

by David Logan

  Hundrig bellowed the order to unfurl the sails, and in the blink of an eye the canvases, each one blood red, dropped into position. The Casabia lurched forward, rapidly picking up speed as it thundered out of Turanay station. The suddenness of its forward momentum took Junk by surprise and he yelled joyously as they sped away.

  *

  The journey to Garvan’s island would take the best part of two days. Junk spent time getting to know the crew. His Jansian was getting better all the time, but, much like crews back in Junk’s time, when language let them down, they always found some way to communicate.

  The Casabia’s crew liked and accepted Junk almost immediately, sensing in him one of their own. A seafarer. In particular he bonded with the captain and with the ship’s navigator, an impossibly tall, impossibly thin man called Gaskis. The two of them talked endlessly about the stars. Gaskis was fascinated by Junk’s description of the constellations three million years ago. Junk would show him where Orion’s Belt or the Plough once were, and in return Gaskis taught Junk the names of the celestial clusters that they were looking at now.

  Hundrig took a shine to Junk because of the boy’s enthusiasm for all things nautical. The big captain was moved by Junk’s story about Ambeline and his search for her killer, and Gaskis explained that Hundrig had lost his wife and young son many years before to disease. Despite the brash exterior, Gaskis said, the captain was a big softie at heart.

  Junk, Garvan and Lasel spent time together, sitting up on the foredeck, watching the land or sea go by. Garvan was looking forward to seeing his island again. He described his home in vivid detail to Lasel, but Junk noticed that he left out the ravenous, flesh-eating Neanderthal birdmen. By this time the three of them were able to switch almost unconsciously between Jansian and English.

  ‘What are you going to do when you find him?’ Lasel asked Junk. He knew without her having to clarify who she meant: Ambeline’s killer.

  Junk shrugged. ‘Kill him,’ he said, a little too casually. He said it the same way he would talk about making a cup of tea or reading a book.

  ‘How?’ asked Garvan.

  Junk shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’ He paused. ‘Yet.’

  ‘But he’s big,’ said Garvan. ‘Very big,’ he added pointlessly, for emphasis.

  Junk knew exactly what Garvan meant: How do you expect to kill someone who could easily flatten you? ‘I was just a kid when I saw him.’

  ‘And what are you now?’ asked Lasel. One corner of her mouth twitched, trying to hide the smile that said she was teasing him. Their friendship had reached a stage where she could tease him, but it had got there a little too quickly, so even though they were both comfortable with the actual teasing, they both felt subconsciously uncomfortable with the idea of the teasing. It made for a lot of internal confusion.

  *

  At dusk on the first day Garvan went below, leaving Junk and Lasel alone. They sat side by side, their legs dangling over the side of the ship, watching the sun setting. The sky was magical. Streaks of orange, red, pink and gold. It took them a moment to realize that their fingers were touching. They both became aware simultaneously and neither moved. They didn’t look at one another or try to move their fingers apart. The proximity made them feel a little light-headed. It was intoxicating. Their hearts galloped. Junk felt his mouth dry up. Lasel was the same.

  Slowly Lasel shifted her weight so her body leaned into Junk’s. He opened his shoulder, creating a hollow that allowed her to sink subtly into him. The movements were tiny. Anyone watching probably might not even have noticed a change, but to Lasel and Junk they were massive, grand gesticulations. Both blushed.

  Lasel started to turn her head towards Junk, but not her eyes. Not yet. As if he could sense her, Junk started to move his eyes to her but not his head. Then, slowly, Junk started to turn his head too and Lasel her eyes. Both were hugely conscious of their own breathing, which sounded deafeningly loud to them but of course was practically inaudible to anyone else.

  They both moved to look at one another … but instead found themselves facing a plate of dead fish. Both jumped in fright and pulled back. They were so wrapped up in the moment that neither had heard Garvan returning. He had a small plate of mackies that Hortez, the Casabia’s cook, had just prepared.

  ‘Mackie?’ he said, already chomping on one. ‘Fresh.’

  Junk and Lasel pulled rapidly apart. Garvan didn’t notice anything unusual, assuming they were just making plenty of space for him to sit between them.

  ‘Nice view,’ he said with his mouth full.

  ‘I’ve just got to …’ Lasel didn’t put a huge amount of effort into finishing her sentence. She quickly got to her feet and dashed away.

  ‘Maybe she’s gone to get some more,’ said Garvan, indicating the plate in his hand, which was now empty. ‘We’ve finished these ones.’

  Junk was silent. His head was spinning from the surge of adrenalin. He stared out at the sunset and tried to make sense of what had just happened. Had it been mutual? Had he imagined it?

  ‘What do you think of Lasel?’ asked Garvan, as if he could read Junk’s mind.

  Junk shrugged, a little too forcefully. He shook his head and shrugged again. Put it all together and it looked as if he was having some sort of fit. ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘I don’t know. Not … nothing. Why? What do you think?’

  ‘I think she’s lovely,’ said Garvan.

  ‘What?’ This brought Junk to his senses. He turned to look at his friend. What was he saying?

  ‘It can be quite a lonely place, my island,’ said Garvan.

  ‘What?’ said Junk. Nothing more meaningful came to mind just at that moment.

  ‘It was nice when you were there,’ said Garvan. ‘I’ve been alone a long time. I don’t want to be alone again.’

  ‘You like Lasel,’ said Junk. It was a statement, not a question, and most people would have picked up on the disappointment in Junk’s cadence. Garvan did not. Junk knew there and then that Lasel was now off-limits for him. Even though something had happened between them – he was sure of it, and sure she was aware of it too – he had not been the first to vocalize his interest in her. That had been Garvan. Junk would have to put all confusing thoughts about Lasel out of his head. There was a pain in his throat that ran all the way down to the centre of his chest. He didn’t know why.

  *

  For the rest of the trip Junk avoided Lasel as much as he could. She noticed the change in his attitude and, knowing nothing about Garvan’s interest in her, put it down to Junk feeling uncomfortable about what had happened between them. She decided it was best to forget it had ever happened.

  *

  Late in the afternoon on day two Junk was up on the top deck with Gaskis when he heard Garvan let out an excited bellow. He looked down to see Garvan on the main deck below jump to his feet and run to the port side. He was big enough to rock the ship but only momentarily.

  ‘Junk!’ Garvan shouted. ‘JunkJunkJunkJunkJunk!’

  Junk had never heard his friend so animated. He went down to see what was wrong.

  As Junk reached Garvan, so too did Dr Otravinicus, Cascér and Lasel, all attracted by Garvan’s rambunctious hollering.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Junk. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Look,’ said Garvan, and he thrust out one of his mammoth arms, pointing into the distance. On the horizon Junk saw an island. It wasn’t familiar from this vantage point, but he knew it was Garvan’s island. Of course it was. It was the only explanation for Garvan’s excitement.

  And then, suddenly, Garvan’s excitement spilled over and he swept Lasel and Junk up into a powerful embrace. After trying so hard to avoid one another for most of the day, now Junk and Lasel were closer than ever.

  ‘I’m home!’ said Garvan.

  15

  Garvan stood outside his cabin. There was little of it left. The birdmen had trashed it. They had smashed every window, torn off most of the roof, broken down walls and then rip
ped, shredded and destroyed almost everything inside.

  Junk, Lasel, Otravinicus, Cascér, Hundrig and three of the Casabia’s crew stood behind Garvan. All could sense his heartbreak. Finally Junk felt as if he had to say something. He stepped up and put a hand on his big friend’s arm. He couldn’t tell if Garvan even noticed.

  ‘We can fix it,’ said Junk. ‘I’ll help you.’ Garvan didn’t respond.

  ‘It’s getting late,’ said Otravinicus after a few more moments of silence. ‘We should be getting back to the Casabia. We’ll go diving first thing. Garvan?’ Still no response. ‘Garvan?’ His forceful tone jarred Garvan from his thoughts and he turned to look at the doctor. ‘Will you be able to show us your fishing spot tomorrow?’

  Garvan didn’t answer immediately. He just turned back to the remains of his house and looked desperately sad, but after a moment, he nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I can show you.’ And with that he turned and walked away. The others exchanged awkward looks and then followed him.

  *

  The next morning the Casabia was anchored in the middle of Garvan’s fishing ground and all the crew and passengers were up on deck. It had been decided that Cascér, as the best natural swimmer, would accompany Junk on his dive. Junk was wearing only a pair of shorts. Cascér wasn’t even wearing that much. All the crew stared but she didn’t seem to care.

  ‘Do you have air?’ Junk asked Hundrig in Jansian.

  ‘Air?’ answered the captain in his usual restrained bellow.

  ‘Yeah, you know, air tanks? Diving equipment? How do I breathe?’

  ‘Oh, of course,’ said Hundrig. ‘Lethro’s catching it now.’ Junk assumed he had misunderstood: catching the air? Lethro was another member of the Casabia’s crew. Junk looked around for him and was curious to see him on the bow wielding a fishing net. As Junk watched, Lethro, a short, stout man, about as wide as he was tall, let out a triumphant cry and starting hauling in the net.

  *

  Moments later, Junk was looking with unrestrained incredulity at a translucent green jellyfish-like creature that was flopping restlessly on the deck.

  ‘Come again?’ said Junk.

  Otravinicus stepped forward to take charge. ‘This is a commust,’ he said, pointing at the jellyfish. ‘It secretes a viscous substance that forms an airtight and waterproof shell.’

  ‘Right …’ said Junk, still not getting it.

  ‘The gunk goes over you,’ explained Otravinicus. ‘You go in the water; the shell protects you, allows you to breathe.’

  ‘Underwater?’ asked Junk.

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘For how long?’

  Otravinicus had asked Junk about how time was recorded in Junk’s era, and Junk had explained seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and years. ‘About twenty minutes,’ said Otravinicus.

  ‘OK,’ said Junk. It wasn’t very long, but back home diving with an air tank would afford him a finite amount of breathing time as well. This wasn’t so different. ‘How do you get the jelly out?’ asked Junk, and almost immediately wished he hadn’t. Lethro picked up the commust and threw it to Hundrig, who was standing behind Junk. Hundrig held the creature over Junk’s head and popped a large fluid sac on its underside. A viscous yellow substance, that looked a lot like pus but smelled much, much worse, flowed all over Junk, who cried out in shock. It was ice cold on his skin.

  ‘Don’t move,’ said Hundrig, and Junk didn’t move. The liquid oozed slowly down over him. Where separate rivulets met, they joined seamlessly. Soon Junk’s entire body was covered in a mould that fitted him perfectly and afforded him full movement.

  ‘Can you hear me?’ asked Junk. Otravinicus nodded. His voice was muffled but still audible. Junk touched his ears and realized the jelly had seeped inside and clotted. The same with his nostrils. His entire body was enclosed.

  His view of the world was a little blurred as he looked at it through the jelly shell, but after a few moments the substance became clearer and he could see perfectly well. Hundrig burst another of the commust’s fluid sacs over Cascér and Junk watched as the liquid contents flowed over and around her, encasing her as it had done him. Seeing it from an observer’s point of view, he realized that there was more than mere gravity determining its direction. It was almost as if the material was alive and chose which way to go. It actively sought out more of itself to join with. In less than a minute, Cascér was covered too.

  ‘Now don’t lose track of time,’ Otravinicus reminded them. ‘Twenty minutes.’

  ‘Got it,’ said Junk.

  As he watched Cascér dive gracefully over the side of the ship, the thought occurred to him that he didn’t have a watch and therefore had no way of knowing how long he was under the water. He would just have to guess. And with that he jumped after Cascér.

  *

  The water was clear, and the light from above illuminated the world around them to a depth of several metres. Cascér looked Junk meaningfully in the eye and nodded. He guessed she was trying to tell him something but he wasn’t sure what. Then she wrapped one of her big arms around him and drew him into her, squashing his jelly-covered face into her robust jelly-covered breast and started to swim powerfully downwards.

  Junk had to twist to turn his head away from Cascér’s body so he could see where he was going. He had never moved so fast underwater and it was exhilarating. They sped downwards. The jelly wetsuit was remarkable. Junk sensed no difference in pressure and only the slightest change in the temperature as they descended. Back home when he went diving, the cold stung him through his neoprene more and more the further down he went.

  It didn’t take them long to reach the seabed, but there had been no green glowing doors on the way. The light at this depth should have been near zero, but Junk noticed that he could still see and realized that his jellied bodysock was bioluminescent. It glowed with a pale blue light that rippled ever so slightly. If he stretched out his hand in front of him, the light from his fingertips illuminated an area a metre or so ahead.

  Without warning him, Cascér started swimming with Junk still tucked under her arm. She swam in one direction for about a dozen metres and then up for a similar distance, before going back the way they had come and then down again. She did the same thing three more times, always coming back to the same starting point. She looked at Junk and shook her head. Junk understood. There was nothing there. He nodded. Cascér pointed upwards with her thumb, suggesting they resurface. Junk had lost track of time but he didn’t feel as if his air supply was waning just yet and he wasn’t quite ready to go back. He shook his head and gestured that he wanted to look around. Cascér frowned but didn’t try to stop him. Junk gestured for her to go back. He wanted to add if you want (he didn’t want it to seem as if he was ordering her to go) but he couldn’t think how to say that through the avenue of rudimentary mime. Cascér didn’t seem to take offence. She just nodded once and shot up vertically like a missile. The pale blue light that encased her dimmed rapidly as she went. Soon Junk was alone.

  He chose a direction at random and started swimming. He couldn’t move as quickly as Cascér but it didn’t matter. He loved being back under the water and with a freedom he had never experienced before. He was unencumbered by a mask, breathing apparatus, an air tank strapped to his back and a bulky buoyancy compensator that stifled his movements. He was very nearly able to forget about the film of jelly that covered him. It was almost as if he was down here only in his shorts. It felt wonderful.

  At about thirty metres or so he came to the edge of a chasm. There was no way of knowing how deep it went, but he decided to explore just a little. As he went down, his presence startled some of the strange inhabitants living in the nooks and crannies of the chasm’s wall. Creatures he had never imagined shot out and zipped through the water around him.

  All at this depth were translucent and shared the same bioluminescent qualities as the commust. They were a whole range of different colours and sizes, most of them small. The largest
one he saw was some sort of sea snake. It pulsated with a transparent orange glow. Junk remembered that some sea snakes in his time were horribly venomous and he didn’t know if that still applied. Nothing he could do about it now. He stayed very still and watched as the snake whirled and danced in front of him. It could have been a show of aggression or attraction. Or possibly it was just lost. However, after about thirty seconds of this, it plunged down further and disappeared from view. It was one of the most beautiful things Junk had ever seen.

  *

  Junk made his way to the surface and came up a fair distance from the Casabia. He swam slowly on his back to the ship and as he went the protective layer covering him started to disintegrate and wash away. It was gone completely by the time he climbed aboard.

  Lasel was waiting for him. ‘We were worried,’ she said. ‘Was everything OK?’

  Junk smiled lazily, a feeling of absolute serenity coursing through him. He nodded. ‘It was magnificent.’

  *

  That evening, as usual, the crew and passengers on board the Casabia ate and drank heartily. The food was all caught fresh off the side of the ship, but Junk drew the line at eating the commust which had supplied him with his jelly wetsuit. He felt that would be somehow ungrateful.

  Otravinicus flopped down next to Junk. He had been miserable all afternoon, ever since Junk and Cascér had come back up and reported no sign of the door. Otravinicus was not good at hiding his feelings. He was wearing a vest, which exposed his puny little body. His long, thin arms had no muscle definition to them. They were like the arms of a child although considerably longer.

  ‘Why was there no door?’ asked Otravinicus. ‘I keep asking myself. Either we’re in the wrong place or it’s closed. Can it open again? Can we open it?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Junk. ‘Garvan knows these waters. Knows where he was when he caught me in his net. Cascér and I went straight down from that point – and no door. It must have closed. It’s the only explanation.’

  ‘Then we need to find another way,’ said Otravinicus.