Floodworld

by Tom Huddleston

  “There’s nothing,” Kara said. “It’s empty.”

  A sudden sound cut the air, a hollow moan reverberating through the walls of the ship, making the hairs on her neck stand up. It came again: a weird, keening cry that seemed to resonate all around them, near and distant at the same time.

  “Um, Kara,” Joe whispered, “can boats be haunted?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said uncertainly. “Whoever heard of a haunted b—”

  Something slammed into the side of the boat and it tipped violently, throwing her back. She tried to keep her balance but the floor was too steep; her feet skidded as she slid helplessly towards the door. To her surprise it swung open and she caught a glimpse of Redeye’s startled face as she crashed through, hitting him square in the chest.

  The boat righted with a splash. Kara and Redeye landed in a tangle of limbs.

  “Get off me,” he barked, kicking and struggling to his feet. “Don’t you try anything.”

  “You were the one who opened the stupid door,” Kara complained, sprawling on her back.

  “We weren’t escaping,” Joe called from inside. “The boat just rocked. Did something hit us?”

  “Right,” Redeye said, his good eye widening. He stepped through the door, pulling a rusty blade from his belt.

  “Hey!” Kara yelled. “If you touch him I’ll— Oh.”

  Redeye sliced through Joe’s bonds, pausing to frown back at her. “You’re very mistrustful.”

  She glared. “I get like that when someone kidnaps me.”

  “Where are we?” Joe asked. “Kara looked out but she couldn’t see anything.”

  “We’re in the mid Atlantic, about sixteen clicks south-west of Ilha das Flores,” Redeye said. “I’m delivering you to Cortez. If he takes a liking to you, maybe you’ll get out of this alive.”

  “I don’t want some terrorist to like me,” Kara snarled. “I’m going to spit in his face and tell him to jump in the sea.”

  Redeye sighed, pulling her to her feet and cutting her loose. “We get it – you’re tough. But try to be smart too. There’s no sense lashing out at people who are only trying to help you.”

  “How are you helping?” she asked, rubbing her wrists. “By locking us in a cupboard and dragging us off to meet the world’s most wanted man?”

  “By getting you out of the Shanties before…” Redeye shook his head. “Never mind. I was going to offer you something to eat, but now I’m not sure you deserve it.”

  “I want food,” Joe said from the doorway. “I didn’t say anything bad.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Redeye admitted. “But there’s something I need you to see first.”

  A wooden staircase sloped up and Redeye climbed, leading them through a square hatch into the silver light of evening. They were on a single-masted fishing trawler, its sails furled. A brass nameplate read Orca, and at the wheel Kara could see the big Mariner, the one Joe had called Pavel.

  “It’s a boat,” she said. “I’ve seen one bef—”

  The strange groan came again, so loud that the deck vibrated beneath her feet. It was a living sound, full of emotion, not sadness or joy but something in between. But it had an almost metallic edge to it too, like a hinge creaking and a dog howling and a man moaning all at the same time.

  Suddenly the ocean erupted, a pillar of water rising into the air barely fifty feet ahead of them. It was followed by a wall of blue-grey flesh so massive it blocked out the sun. Kara saw a mouth big enough to swallow the Orca, lined with glistening white ridges. There was a black eye set deep into the furrowed skin and for a moment she was transfixed – it was like gazing into an ancient, bottomless pool. Then the whale rolled and a barnacled fin swung towards them, slapping the surface with a consonant boom.

  The wave hit them, tipping the Orca violently. Kara grabbed Joe as water sluiced across the deck, soaking them. “There she blows!” Redeye laughed as the great beast dived, its forked tail flicking up a shower of shimmering spray.

  The whale angled away, a vast bow wave rippling behind it. Ahead Kara saw two more smooth dark backs breaking the surface, silhouetted in the haze.

  “They were almost gone, you know,” Redeye said, watching solemnly. “Humpbacks had been hunted to extinction in the wild but the Mariners brought them back. Just a few breeding pairs, kept safe in our sanctuaries. Eventually we were able to introduce them back to the ocean.”

  Joe smiled. “That’s awesome.”

  But Kara just snorted. “What do you want, a medal?”

  Redeye’s mouth dropped, and for a moment he couldn’t speak. Then he gestured out to sea. “I brought you up here to show you something amazing, to teach you what the Mariners are really about. And all you can do is throw it back in my face.”

  Kara faced him. “So you think because the Mariners saved a fish once that makes it OK to go around kidnapping people?”

  “Kara,” Joe whispered. “Please don’t.”

  “Don’t what?” she snapped. “What’s he going to do that he hasn’t done already? Shoot me?”

  “We don’t shoot children,” Redeye said impatiently. “We’re not monsters, Kara. We don’t shoot anyone if we can help it.”

  Kara hooted. “I’ve seen you shoot, like, ten people. Did your hand slip?”

  Redeye flushed. “I had my orders. I needed that map.”

  “So what about the battles?” Joe asked. “Why do you start the battles if you’re so against shooting people?”

  Redeye was confused. “What battles?”

  “Between the Mariners and MetCo,” Joe said. “Like in the films. There was one last year, Silent Waters. We couldn’t afford it but my friend told me. George Ford, he’s a famous actor, maybe the most famous, he played Mr Remick before he started MetCo, and his ship got sunk by Mariners, and he got tortured, only he wouldn’t tell them anything, and he escaped back to his platoon, and there was a big battle with the Mariners and he won.”

  Redeye stared in disbelief. “People believe that stuff?”

  “It won awards,” Joe protested. “It was a true story.”

  “A true—” Redeye spluttered. “I can’t even—” He knelt, taking Joe by the shoulders. “Here’s the true story about your precious Remick. One of our Arks found him drifting. They picked him up, patched him up and sent him home. There wasn’t any battle; there’s never been an open engagement between the Mariners and London.”

  “So everything in the newsfeeds is a lie,” Kara said doubtfully. “All that stuff about John Cortez being a terrorist who raids our ships.”

  Redeye pursed his lips. “OK, we might raid the occasional tanker, hijack the odd shipment. But every missing boat, every warehouse fire, every freaking bar brawl, your newsfeeds say it’s Mariners, it’s terrorists, it’s Cortez.”

  “So what happened in the harbour the other day?” Kara asked. “Come on, it’s not like we can do anything about it now. Your friend Elroy was inside the Wall, we heard Remick say so. He must’ve set off that explosion to distract MetCo, but it didn’t work. And you weren’t with him or you’d have reacted when Joe said ‘Wellington’. I think Elroy’s map leads to something in the City. I think the words are clues, and he kept them vague in case he was captured. I think you’re planning something big. Bigger than any tanker raid.”

  Redeye glared at her. “You shouldn’t think so much. It’ll get you in trouble.”

  “Hey,” the big Mariner broke in, pointing towards the horizon. “They’re here.”

  Kara shielded her eyes. There was a shadow on the water, just a speck against the setting sun. Stilling her breath she could hear the throbbing of engines, low and powerful.

  “What is it?” Joe asked. “A ship?”

  “Not exactly.” Redeye handed him a pair of macrobinoculars. “It’s home.”

  Joe squinted through them, twisting the focus wheel. “I see something.” He drew back in surprise. “Whoa. It’s really big. Is it a tanker?”

  “That is the Ark Ne
ptune,” Redeye said proudly. “The largest vessel in the Mariner fleet. The ship in the centre we call the Hub, she’s got sixteen solar turbines, twenty-three upper decks and seven lower, two thousand tons of pure haulage. But that’s not the good part. Look down.”

  Joe angled the binoculars. “There’s something on the water. The ship’s pulling it along!”

  “That’s the Disc,” Redeye said. “And it’s pulling and pushing, and lifting and towing at the same time. The Hub is just the engine. The Disc is where it all happens.”

  Kara took the binoculars, her heart thumping. At first she could see nothing, just shades of grey and gold. Then something obscured her view and her mouth fell open. Joe was right. The Ark was huge.

  The upright shape in the centre did resemble an ocean-going tanker, its steel sides lined with portholes and bristling with radio antennae, crane emplacements and a pair of mounted defence cannons. But extending from the tanker’s upper deck she could see a slender metal spike like the mast of a sailing ship. From its tip sprouted a web of cables branching out and down towards the ocean’s surface. And suspended from those wires was another larger object floating on the surface of the sea – a raft, maybe, but a huge one, many thousands of feet across.

  An image flashed into her mind, a story the Sisters used to read about a bear who floated down the river in an upside-down umbrella. This was the same principle, except that the umbrella was wider than two tower blocks and there was a ship in the middle instead of a handle.

  The raft was pale blue and dotted with semicircular domes, like blisters on skin. Dark shapes moved on its surface. “I see people,” Kara said in disbelief. “There are people on it.”

  “Of course there are,” Redeye said. “That’s the whole point. Think of it like a village, a settlement. A town that floats.”

  The front of the raft – the Disc, he’d called it – was cut open in a deep V, forming an artificial harbour. If the Neptune kept its course, this inlet would swallow the Orca whole. The engines hummed louder and she felt Joe’s hand wriggle down into hers, clinging on tight.

  11

  The Neptune

  The Ark drew closer, filling the western horizon. The Disc slid over the surface of the sea, suspended on the cables branching down from overhead. A floating town, Joe marvelled. Filled with living, breathing Mariners.

  He could see them clearly now, turning to look as the trawler entered the harbour. At first glance they didn’t look so different from the people back home – their skin came in all the usual colours and they had the same number of arms and legs. But they wore dark, almost military-looking uniforms, and he noticed that many had pistols clipped to their waists. They ranged from kids Kara’s age to weather-faced old folks, though the majority were just regular grown-ups.

  The Orca came to a gentle stop and Redeye hit a switch, a steel gangplank rattling from the side. Joe glanced uncertainly at Kara but she just shrugged. What choice did they have?

  They descended cautiously, all eyes on them. The Disc was springy, Joe’s sneakers sinking almost an inch into the rubbery blue surface. The sun had set and lights were starting to blink on across the Neptune, pale green like flickers of phosphorescence. He heard a seagull screech and wondered how it must appear from way up there, this ring of lights surrounded by darkness. Then he realised exactly what it would look like – a blue circle with a green oval inside. The Mariner symbol, the same one he saw pinned to the uniform of every person here.

  “Where’s the captain?” Redeye asked, scanning the watchful faces. “Where’s Cortez?”

  “He’s resting.” The girl who stepped forward was taller than Kara, but she couldn’t have been much older. She wore close-fitting black overalls and there was something in the tilt of her head and her tea-dark skin that Joe found strangely familiar. “He was out all night in one of the submersibles, and left strict instructions not to be disturbed.”

  Redeye looked around at the empty ocean. “He took a sub out here? At night? Why?”

  The girl shrugged. “My father keeps his own counsel. You should know that by now.”

  “Well, he’ll want to see me,” Redeye said. “These two as well.”

  “Why?” The girl glanced sharply at Kara and Joe. “What’s so special about them?”

  Redeye shook his head. “Sorry, Cane, that’s classified.”

  The girl’s eyes widened. “They were there, weren’t they? When my brother … when Elroy…”

  That was it, Joe realised. She had the same narrow face, the same determined eyes as the young man on the jetty. He wondered how many years they’d had between them; four or five at most.

  Then another thing the girl had said filtered through. My father. She’d been talking about John Cortez, the one the newsfeeds said was a terrorist. She was his daughter, which meant that the man who saved Joe’s life had been his son. There was clearly more to all this than he’d realised.

  “I can’t say anything until I talk to the captain,” Redeye said, starting forward. “He ordered these kids to be brought to him, and as head of security it’s my duty to—”

  “Former head of security,” the girl interrupted. “You handed your duties to Mr Hillard when you left, but he’s in the infirmary recovering from something he picked up at a mudfoot tavern in Pontevedra. In his absence, the captain put me in charge.”

  “But … you’re a child,” Redeye protested.

  Cane’s face reddened. “I’m of age. I’m a sophomore cadet, and—”

  “Listen,” Kara cut in, stepping between them. “Can we just see Cortez and get this over with? We’re tired and I’ve had enough.”

  The girl’s lip curled. “Quiet, mudfoot. My father is not to be interrupted. He’s in mourning for his son, the one your people killed.”

  “I was there,” Kara told her. “But then your people shot at us and kidnapped us and we still don’t really know why, so I think we’ve got a right to be annoyed. If we can’t see him, can we at least lie down somewhere?”

  “Somewhere with food,” Joe put in.

  A thought seemed to occur to Cane, a slow smile breaking over her face. “Actually, I know exactly what to do with you.” She turned, calling out, “Nate? Mudfoot! Where are you, boy?”

  There was a commotion in the crowd and someone shouted, “He’s here! He was trying to sneak off.”

  The Mariners parted and a boy was shoved forward. He was older than Joe and a fair bit wider, the uniform tight across his waist. His face was half hidden behind a curtain of greasy black hair and he scowled at Cane as she took his arm.

  “Nate, this is your lucky day,” she said. “Two of your mudfoot friends have come for a visit, and I’m putting you in charge of them.”

  He pulled away. “Stop saying I’m a mudfoot. I’m a Mariner; my blood’s pure salt water.”

  Cane snorted. “Right. That’s why you go green at the first sign of chop.”

  There was laughter and the boy blushed. “I was sick one time. Why does everyone go on about it?”

  “Because it’s funny,” Cane said. “Anyway, take these two back to your pod and give them some of that food you’ve got stashed. They can stay there until my father’s ready for them.”

  “But my pod’s a one-roomer,” the boy protested. “Where are we all meant to fit?”

  “That’s not my problem,” Cane snapped. “You’re not in the Academy now; this is my father’s boat and he put me in charge.”

  “And me,” Redeye put in.

  “And Redeye,” Cane agreed. “So if we order you to do something, you do it.”

  The boy looked at them, his face turning scarlet. Then he threw up his hands and stormed away, muttering. He stopped as he reached the edge of the crowd, glaring back at Joe and Kara. “Are you coming or what?”

  For a moment Joe stood frozen. The faces surrounding them weren’t exactly friendly, but they didn’t look like bloodthirsty terrorists either, especially not that boy Nate. None of this was like he’d expected – i
t was somehow weirder and more normal at the same time.

  “Let’s go along for now,” Kara whispered. “We can figure out how to escape later.”

  Joe nodded. “I hope there’s actually food this time, though.”

  The Mariners parted to let them through and they followed the boy out across the Disc. Nate moved expertly over the rubbery surface, leaning back on his heels to push himself forward. Joe tried to do the same, but he kept feeling like he was about to fall flat on his face. To their right the ship rose like a steel cliff; beyond it was the moonlit sea. Looking up he could see a cold ribbon of stars spanning the whole sky. The real world seemed every bit as far away.

  A forest of differently sized domes closed in around them, the same blue blisters they’d spotted from the Orca. Some glowed from within and Joe saw a pair of Mariners pushing inside one, a curtain sliding across the opening. This is where they live, he realised.

  Nate waited beside one of the smaller domes, drawing back the curtain as they approached. “It’s only meant for one person,” he said. “But I guess we’ll have to manage.”

  He clapped his hands as he stepped inside and a light in the ceiling flickered. The dome was made from the same material as the Disc, smooth and pale blue. The floor was perfectly flat and on the wall were three zipped pouches and an electronic panel.

  “Have a seat,” Nate said, gesturing.

  Joe looked around. “On the floor?”

  The boy frowned. “Sorry. I forgot you don’t know how things work.”

  He tapped the panel and the floor began to swell, assuming the shapes of three bulging armchairs. “We call this stuff RPV,” Nate said, dropping into the nearest one. “Responsive polyvinyl. The whole Disc’s made of it.”

  Joe sat cautiously, feeling the material firm up beneath his bottom and his back. It was strange but rather comfortable. “The Mariners invented this stuff?”

  “It’s been around since the Tech Age,” Nate said. “But our scientists came up with new uses for it. It’s waterproof and it floats, unless you tell it to sink. It can be hard as rock if you want.”