It was very different from the last time she’d seen it. The lights were out, illumination now being provided by work lanterns and torches the pirates had brought. A cluster of pirates was grouped around the captain’s chair, speaking quietly. They moved aside to allow Kane through.
“Something you should see, Katya.” He looked back as if internally debating something. “Though you won’t thank me for it.” He stepped back and parted a way for her. She took a step forward and stopped, horrified.
Lit obliquely by the harsh white lights of the work lanterns, Captain Zagadko sat in his command chair quite at peace. He seemed so serene, almost happy with a faint smile on his lips, that the realisation that he was dead was a long time coming. “Oh, captain,” said Katya in a tiny whisper. “Oh, Captain Zagadko.”
“It looks like he was hit by a round from the Gatling gun,” said Kane. Out of the circle of light, Katya realised that the captain’s uniform was glistening slightly, soaked. She took an unconscious step back and was appalled when her boot stuck to the floor for a moment. “Yes,” Kane spoke again. “I’m afraid it’s blood. The floor’s thick with it. At a guess, the femoral artery in his leg was nicked. He bled out quite quickly.”
“Why,” said Katya, her voice shuddering with revulsion, “are you showing me this?”
For his answer, Kane shone his torch on the dead man’s left hand. It lay on a panel of the captain’s status board; a security plate over the panel had been unlocked and lifted.
“You recognise a handprint scanner of course. This one’s special. Between needing a key to access it, requiring the handprint of a senior officer and then the inputting of a code, it’s very secure. Not the sort of thing you can do by accident.”
“A code…” Katya knew what the captain had done and so she knew why all the lights were out.
“The scuttle code. The captain crawled back in here after being blown off the deck with half his leg dangling off by a thread – don’t look, it really isn’t a pretty sight. He must have come in by one of the rear locks. I can’t even imagine swimming while that badly injured. Then he crawled forward, straight past the sickbay where he might, just conceivably, have managed to save his own life by getting into the automedic. Of course, that would have drugged him into a dreamless sleep where we’d have found him. He knew that and that’s why he kept crawling. All the way back to the bridge and into his chair, to open that panel and issue the scuttling code, killing his beloved ship rather than let her fall into our hands. Then he sat back and fell asleep.” Kane drew strength from somewhere and straightened up. “In a fairer universe, captain, they’d sing songs about you. I salute you.” He snapped a salute of a type she’d seen in the same stupid dramas that said the Grubbers had no honour, that showed them spitting on the corpses of their enemies. He held it for a long moment and then finished it, and seemed to age even as he did it. “Organise the funerals for tomorrow morning, please, Tasya. Ours and theirs. I want a full turn out.”
He started walking slowly, almost shambling towards the hatch. “Why did you show me this?” asked Katya again.
“Duty, Katya Kuriakova. He knew his duty, as I know mine.” He paused to look back at her. “Do you know yours, Katya Kuriakova?” He turned to continue walking but paused instead, touching his brow with his fingers. “Oh dear,” he said to himself, and collapsed.
The crew of the Novgorod and the Baby were moved off the waterside and put into a large low room that appeared to have been an open plan office at some point in the past. It only had two exits and the pirates welded one of them shut, putting a chain and lock on the other. Petrov and the other surviving commissioned officers gathered around and listened grim-faced as Katya told them what had happened aboard the crippled war-boat. They showed little reaction, but the way Zagadko had chosen to die seemed to give them some satisfaction. Petrov nodded when she told them the Novgorod was dead at her captain’s hand and another officer muttered, “good man” under his breath. They seemed uninterested in Kane’s health beyond hoping that, whatever was wrong with him, it was terminal. In this they were to be disappointed.
A couple of hours later, the door was unchained and Lieutenant Tokarov and the marines were escorted in at gunpoint. Once they were clear of the door, Kane entered with Tasya the Chertovka close behind, flanked by guards. “As you’re doubtless aware,” said Kane, “your captain is dead.” His voice was strong again and he carried himself with authority. “I regret that. I had a little time to know him and, well, I regret his death. You also know that he issued the Novgorod’s scuttling code. Your boat is dead. It will take months to strip out all the systems permanently damaged by the code and replace them.” A ragged cheer went up from the Novgorod crew. Kane waited until they’d quietened down again. “He did the right thing, as far as he knew. We, however, know the bigger picture. Beyond these stone walls is the Russalka ocean and somewhere in that, very close at hand, is the Leviathan. It sank their boat,” he pointed at where Katya and Lukyan sat, “it crippled yours. Now it has our boat, the Vodyanoi, stoppered up too. Before long, it will realise that we haven’t run to a settlement after all and there will be no more boats coming and going. When it realises that, it will go on and search for settlements. Lemuria’s closest; it will probably be the first. Before the Leviathan leaves here, though, it will make damn sure we’re all dead. Novgorods, Vodyanois, it really doesn’t care.”
“How does he know so much about it?” murmured Tokarov to Petrov. Petrov only nodded slightly in agreement.
“With the Novgorod operational and reparable, we might have been able to bluff it. Now we’ve got just one boat. We’ll be working on a plan to try and get past it, to get us all past it. In the meantime, it would be appreciated if you would curtail any attempts to escape. We really don’t need the distraction. If you, however, feel obliged to try, be warned that all your guards have been ordered to fire first and not bother asking questions afterwards. I’m not in the mood for FMA heroics; you either stay in line or you die. Just remember, we’re trying to save your lives too.” They left to a chorus of catcalls and swearing.
“You know what I don’t like?” said Lukyan. “What I really don’t like is the way he kept calling whatever’s out there it. You saw it on camera, didn’t you, Katya? You said it looked like a submarine?”
She nodded. “Yes, but I’ve never seen a boat so featureless. And it’s size…” She shook her head in disbelief. “Colossal.”
“That’s what I don’t like. Kane may be a Grubber by birth but he’s a submariner by adoption. He would never call a boat it. A boat is always a lady. All the way through that little speech, though, he kept saying it’s this and it’s that. Never once she’s this, she’s that. Perhaps it is a monster after all.”
Lieutenant Petrov was listening. “It’s a sub. We all saw it. Besides, it launched torpedoes.”
“That’s as may be,” replied Uncle Lukyan, his frown heavy and dark, “but even a submarine can be a monster.”
Katya looked closely at him, wondering why he’d become so abstruse all of a sudden. Then she understood and coldness curled around her guts; he was frightened. Nothing frightened Uncle Lukyan. At least, nothing had. What, she thought, do you do when the man who has always been there, always met every emergency, always been the anchor of your life, what do you do when he is afraid? Except grow afraid yourself?
“He knows what it is,” said Tokarov.
“What?” blurted Katya, startled by the intrusion into her own thoughts.
“Kane. He knows what that thing is. How, I don’t know.” He pursed his lips. “Hold on, he’s a Grubber, isn’t he?”
“My own suspicion exactly,” agreed Petrov, cutting straight to the conclusion. “This Leviathan is some sort of Terran weapon. It must have malfunctioned during the war so it was never used against us.”
“Thank God,” said Lukyan.
“Yes. It’s highly formidable. Perhaps it lost the ability to tell friend from foe and was deactivated. Tha
t would explain Kane’s comment about us all being at risk.”
“And it’s been sitting there at the bottom of the Weft ever since,” finished Tokarov excitedly. He paused. “I wonder what reactivated it.”
“It came under fire,” said Katya wearily. It all made a sort of sense now and the worst of it was that they were indirectly responsible.
The others were looking at her. Lukyan’s widening eyes showed he was reaching the same conclusion. “What do you mean, it came under fire?” asked Petrov.
“We detected it on the seabed and thought it was a metal deposit. We were probably the first boat to have gone through there since the war. Nobody’s stupid enough to go through the Weft unless some dimwit Fed orders them. We detected what looked like enough high quality metal ore for us all to retire on, even me.”
“We fired a probe at it,” said Lukyan in a ghastly voice, disbelief at their staggeringly bad luck etched in every syllable.
It all made horrible but perfectly logical sense, Katya found, as she reran the events through her mind. The Leviathan had probably heard them coming – they’d made no attempt to be stealthy – and gone to a low level of alert. Then they’d pinged it hard with sonar and as good as told it that they were looking right at it, taking it to still higher states of alert. The probe torpedo was the last straw, the moment when it believed it had been located and attacked by hostile forces, and its old wartime programs took over.
“There was never anything wrong with the Baby’s sensors,” said Lukyan. “That thing must have some sort of stealth gear well beyond anything we have. Even active sonar didn’t show it up.”
“It came for us,” said Katya. “It launched torpedoes. That was the cavitation I heard, wasn’t it, uncle? The sound of the launch tubes opening.”
“Torpedoes,” Lukyan echoed. “Strangest damn torpedoes I’ve ever come across. No motor sound, no active sonar pulses, and no explosion.”
“It was the same with the Novgorod,” agreed Petrov. “Just holes punched through. What kind of warhead could do that?”
Katya was thinking back to something Kane had said. “Kane said the Novgorod was deliberately damaged just enough to force her back to port.”
“Rubbish,” scoffed Lukyan. “No torpedo is that accurate.”
“Yes,” said Petrov quietly. “No torpedo is that accurate. So what exactly was used against our boats, Captain Pushkin?”
The men fell silent, unable to make anything but vague guesses.
Katya couldn’t guess what form these mysterious weapons might take, but, then, she didn’t need to guess, not when Kane definitely knew.
“I need to talk to Havilland Kane,” she said standing.
“Kane certainly has some answers,” agreed Petrov, “but why would he talk to you?”
To be honest, Katya wasn’t entirely sure, but she knew he would. “I think he feels obligated somehow, responsible for dragging me into this. He won’t talk to any of you; you’re the enemy. You were taking him to be delivered to Secor. He’ll talk to me.”
“He’ll talk to us,” said Lukyan, joining her. “I’m not letting you wander off in the company of a bunch of pirates.”
Katya didn’t argue. It would be pointless and, anyway, she would be very glad of his company.
They walked to the door and opened it as far as the chain would allow. The pirate on the other side stepped away and raised his gun. “You should pay attention, girl. The captain’s orders are to kill anybody who even looks like they’re thinking about escaping.”
“I’m not escaping,” she said, trying to look waif-like and unthreatening with her face framed between the door and jamb. She was glad that Lukyan was out of sight behind the door. It would be hard to stir sympathy with his glowering face visible above hers. “We need to talk to Captain Kane.”
“Yeah, of course you do,” said the pirate in a bored tone. “Now get back in there before I give you a maser burn.”
“I’m serious. Tell him Katya Kuriakova wants to talk to him urgently.”
“And I’m serious. Get your head back in there before I kill you! I’m not joking, girl.”
“Please…”
The pirate made a show of releasing his gun’s safety catch and levelling it at her face. Katya decided that she’d rather back down than be shot down and moved away. Lukyan’s expression indicated that he might be about to attempt punching through the door and strangling the guard, which probably would not work out well for him or any of the prisoners. As soon as the pirate closed the door, she shot her uncle a “Don’t you dare” face. He shrugged and stepped away from it with surly grace.
They turned to the corner where Petrov and Tokarov waited and Katya shook her head. Her uncle walked back to them, but she paused and looked at the door. Perhaps if she left it a couple of hours and tried again, there might be a more sympathetic guard on duty? It was worth a go. She started walking back to the corner to suggest a second attempt later, and had perhaps taken five paces when the thin steel wall between their makeshift prison and the corridor exploded behind her.
Katya was thrown headlong and finished sprawled untidily on the floor. The lights flickered frantically before going out altogether except for some red emergency lights out in the corridor. She looked aghast at the damage. It seemed like a great claw had torn an untidy rent across the metal wall six metres long. The door was about two thirds of the way along the cut and had lost its upper hinges as well as half its height. Katya blinked in disbelief; the edges of the tear were glowing in the dim light. The wall hadn’t been torn or blasted. It had been melted. It seemed that the Leviathan had finally run out of patience.
Out in the corridor from the direction of the moon pool, the sound of shooting started.
Chapter 8
Devil Driven
“Orders, sir?”
Katya rolled over and found Petrov crouching nearby the engineer who’d asked the question. Of course, she thought; with Captain Zagadko dead then Petrov was the new commanding officer. As in any military hierarchy, the chain of command is never broken.
“We’re leaving,” said Petrov bluntly. “I think the Vodyanoi’s crew have their hands full and don’t sound as if they’re having an easy time of it. If we stay here, whatever is killing them will exterminate us like fish in a liquidiser.” He stood up. “Everybody! We’re leaving here and heading for the second dock. This place is still well signposted, Lieutenant Tokarov? Good. Make your own way there and don’t be afraid to take circuitous routes. Getting there quickly isn’t important, only getting there alive matters. Don’t bunch up and don’t get killed. Go!”
He was the first to the door and, after a fast look to check that the pirates really were too involved in combat to notice them, led the way. Katya felt her uncle take her hand in his but didn’t look up at him. “Is he doing the right thing, uncle?” she asked.
“It’s crazy to go out there. It’s suicide to stay. Yes, it’s the right thing to do. Let some more Feds go and then we’ll take our chance.” They waited in the shadows as the room thinned out by ones and twos. Katya had assumed some crewmembers were behind them so it was a shock when they found that they were the last ones. They crept closer to the destroyed wall and listened but could only hear the occasional crack of maser fire, now sporadic and reflexive. Lukyan squeezed her hand and they stepped out into the corridor.
Tasya the Chertovka, the She-Devil, was waiting for them, her gun levelled and ready. “Kane sent me to let you out. Said you deserved a chance. And here I find you scurrying into the shadows like vermin.” Her lips thinned and she raised the gun to aim at the ceiling. “Very wise.”
“What’s attacked?” demanded Katya. “How can the Leviathan reach us in here? It’s too big, it can’t possibly have got up that tunnel.”
“It didn’t need to. Come on, we have to get moving unless you want to end up like that.” She gestured casually at the floor. Katya looked down and found the pirate who’d threatened her at the door - or half of hi
m at least. From the navel upwards he’d been vaporised. He’d been right on the other side when whatever had hit the wall had struck. He had never stood a chance. Strangely, the sight was less horrifying than she would have thought; grotesque rather than nauseating. The stench of burnt human flesh was something else altogether, though, and she covered her mouth and nostrils with her hand until the half-corpse was behind them. Katya and Lukyan followed Tasya into the warren of tunnels at a trot.
The emergency lighting was patchy; whole stretches of corridor were in darkness and they had to stumble along holding hands. “We can’t slow down,” hissed Tasya at one point, “it can see in the dark.”
“What is it?” asked Lukyan, full of frustration, but the She-Devil didn’t answer. Perhaps she just wants to get us out of the way and then abandon us, thought Katya. Or perhaps shoot us and report back to Kane that she couldn’t find us. This was the woman who’d led Terran troops through the maintenance tunnels beneath the Dory industrial complex to launch an attack on half-built warboats as they sat in their dry docks, the woman who’d murdered the yard’s supervisor in front of the workers because he wouldn’t open the hatches to the munitions stores. She was a war-criminal, a cold-blooded killer, a traitor to the Russalkin people and she was holding Katya’s hand right that minute. Katya tried to concentrate on not tripping over anything rather than the possibility that the last thing she’d ever know would be the Chertovka’s gun barrel being clapped to her temple. It wasn’t easy.
Then the darkness started to thin with red light leaking around the angle of the corridor ahead and Katya could see a little again. What she couldn’t see was Lukyan.
“Where’s your uncle?” asked Tasya suspiciously.
Katya's World Page 10
