by Murray, Lee
“Never trust those bastards,” I say.
He laughs, a big belly laugh. “Your daddy taught you well, young lady.”
I smile at this large, hairy man. His beard swirls down to his knees, his enormous muscles are atrophied from his long confinement, but his eyes sparkle through the sediment-rich water. He is the only one keeping me sane in here.
“My daddy had nothing to do with it.”
“Well, we’ll have to put our trust in one of them if we’re ever to get out of here, and Shiv is the only one who’ll keep an eye on Bastion.”
I haven’t seen Bastion since I watched him hauled aboard the ship. Fastion said he’d been taken to another area. He said Shiv is keeping an eye on him and will report any progress to us. Fastion has become friendly with the alien. I don’t trust that Sprat as far as I can throw him. For all I know, he could have been the one to wound Bastion in the first place.
Unbidden, the image of Bastion’s golden hair and blue toned body flashes into my head and I can’t hide my reaction to it. I’m too tired.
Fastion gives a deep chuckle. Infuriated, I turn away and come face to face with my grandmother, floating in the next tank. She has yet to say anything else, but Fastion has confirmed who she is. I gaze at the scars on her body and run my eyes over the wrinkles that form a map on her face. I remember those eyes.
“Thala,” she whispers again.
“Mrs T has been saying your name for years now,” says Fastion gently. “In fact, she doesn’t say much else.”
“I noticed. What did they do to her?”
My grandmother turns over on to her back as if her granddaughter, lost to her for decades, hasn’t turned up out of the blue.
“You don’t want to know,” says Fastion, shaking his head and folding large forearms across his broad chest. There is grey in his hair and the shine has gone out of his scales.
“Fastion, how long have you been here?” I ask.
“Two human years.”
A heavy silence falls between us as I think about all the things I’ve done in the last two years, while Bastion’s brother has been imprisoned in this tiny tank.
“We must get out,” I say.
“Indeed, we must,” he replies. “Or Bastion will die. It is certain.”
I meet his eyes, my mouth set in hard line. “I won’t let that happen. I’ll help both Bastion and Jaes or die trying.”
“They have never had access to one of our children before,” he says sadly. ‘If only Prastion had made it.”
I hang my head. “I’m sorry.”
“No need for you to be sorry,” he replies. I sense Fastion’s sorrow, but it’s only one more layer of sadness, like oil sitting on the top of deep water.
The small Sprat called Shiv has regained his composure and returns to his tasks. I peer at the back of his bulbous head.
“Were you serious when you said you trust the alien, Shiv?” I ask Fastion.
“I trust him to have some compassion for us, which is more than I can say for the others,” he says. “Befriend him or influence him, Thala. He’s our only hope. I’ve tried my best but he will leave this ship soon and then we are lost. When the bombs went off, I thought we’d have a chance but…” He stares down at his tail, his first hint of true dismay.
“I’ll think of something,” I say. In my mind, the key word resonates. Determination.
“But be careful, child, they like the taste of us.”
“What? Those bastards eat us?”
“We’re a delicacy, I’m afraid.”
I can’t process it all. Did Uncle know about this? Did my parents? A sudden thought makes me feel sick. “Fastion, did you or my grandmother ever get to see my parents here, two other Tellurians who looked a bit like me?”
Fastion shakes his head, his face expressionless. “Apart from Mrs T, everyone before me is gone. Those who arrived with me are gone. Those who arrived after me are gone. I’m sorry. They are all dead and gone.”
21
Shiv hesitates outside the door to the living area. His head throbs from the mind shove the Mergirl threw at him, but he smiles at the memory of it. She’s a strong creature.
Inside, Professor Juder is talking to someone. A grating feeling at the edge of Shiv’s awareness warns him.
“I think the only thing she’s good for is as breeding fodder, highness. We can learn something from that.”
“It’s unlikely.” The Original’s voice is a high-pitched squeak in the dry.
Shiv cracks the door to peer through.
“Highness,” replies the Professor and brings his hands to his forehead.
The Original nods, her mottled head pulsating. “At least the scholar forced them to reveal information,” she says.
Shiv freezes. What information? He sees Juder flush violet. “Highness,” he replies.
“You doubt the importance of this intelligence, Juder? Knowing these creatures’ stories and the existence of a previously unknown human weakness is an essential key in the plan to resurface. Without knowing it, this scholar has given us the power to go forward.”
Shiv startles at the comment. He opens the door wide and rushes into the room. “What do you mean? What have I done to help you?”
The Original’s milky green stare appears brighter in the glare from the ship’s lights. She pinches her thin lips together in displeasure. In the dry she is shrunken and green, her skin falling in ancient folds. She angles the side of her head toward Shiv.
“The Scholar has been busy,” she squeals. “Pity he didn’t think to record his findings.”
Juder bares his teeth in contempt. “We are aware you were talking to them, Shiv. Your weak nature encouraged them to communicate with you. They confided in you, told you their stories, and we recorded it. We have the technology to do that, you know.”
Shiv stumbles forward. “But I can’t think of anything they’ve said that would help.”
“On the contrary, it has been educational,” replies the Original, drawing closer. Shiv smells something dank, like a dead fish left floating on the surface. “You helped us to identify the emotion the big one calls ‘compassion’ and, from his stories, we made the deduction that humans have this, too. Knowing they have this weakness is invaluable.”
“His name is Fastion,” Shiv mumbles.
The Original ignores him.
“However, now that we know this, it’s enough. Tomorrow they’ll be terminated.”
“But why?” exclaims Shiv.
“Because they invaded our city!” screeches the Original, her skin changing from light green to a deep indigo. Shiv tries not to stare.
“Tomorrow our leaders will announce vengeance on the Merfolk who bombed us, delayed our resurface plans and put our future at risk,” says Juder, nodding at the Original. “That means, they all die.”
Shiv’s face falls. “All of them?”
“Yes, of course. They’re no longer needed.” The Original’s colour has faded and she appears ready to leave. Juder guides her to the exit.
Before the door swings shut, he calls back. “I’m glad they’re going. They’ve been like a sea urchin in my behind for too long. Soon we will feast on human flesh; we no longer have need of Merfolk.”
Shiv shudders. Fastion and the others would be dead by morning. And the resurface involved eating humans? He didn’t know how they planned to do it, but once the Originals decided a path of action, no one questioned or stood in their way. Right?
Shiv feels dazed. How is he a part of this? Who were these people he’s always called his own? The Originals told him this sea was a foreign environment to be feared from the moment he was born, not home. The Originals taught him to fear everything and everyone around him and never to ask questions. Shiv looks around the interior of the antique ship. Now they were going to kill his new friends.
“I’m not from the Homeworld,” he says aloud. “This sea is where I was born and live now. Earth’s sea is my home.”
The r
ealisation hits him like a punch to the gut. He doesn’t belong under their control anymore. His stomach churns with anxiety. It feels like the hard metal of a boat anchor clawing at his insides, drawing the truth to the surface. He can’t accept the execution of his friends. He can’t believe the Originals’ mission to change an entire planet to suit their needs. He can’t agree to their lack of compassion for another species who might easily have been an ally in a strange new world. Nothing about the way the Originals rule makes sense anymore. But what can he do?
22
All three Merfolk are where Shiv left them. The old Merwomen rolls in circles, her hair a halo of grey.
It is the end of the light cycle and the artificial lighting reflects the change. Shiv pushes through the doors in a hurry.
Before he can speak, the girl calls out. “Your name is Shiv.” Her voice is soft and melodic, like a soothing touch. Her hair has grown to waist length. Shiv stops just inside the door. This is the first time she has engaged him in conversation.
He nods. “And you?”
“Thala.”
The one the Merwoman longed and cried for: Thala.
“Thala, I have something important to tell you.”
“What can be more important than getting to know each other?” she replies smoothly.
Shiv is confused. “The small one is safe, Thala, if that is what worries you. He is in another laboratory. The injured one is doing well too, but his wounds were significant. And for your information, I do have ears.”
She ignores him. “Shiv, tell me more about you. I seek to understand you.”
Shiv realises what she’s doing and blushes violet. The girl is trying to sing to him. The mesmerising tone of her voice tangles the threads of his mind. She has a talent something like his own. He wonders if the Originals are aware of it.
“Tell me what Merfolk taste like,” she says, a sarcastic smile twisting her beautiful face.
“Thala!” interrupts Fastion. “This is not a joke.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” she yells. “Don’t interrupt me!”
“It’s okay, Fastion,” says Shiv and turns back to the girl. “You taste delicious, however now that I know you’re sentient, I no longer wish to imbibe you.”
“Tell me what you do like to eat, Shiv,” she trills, her voice as smooth as a fresh scallop.
“Thala, please don’t sing to me. It’s... uncomfortable.”
“Uncomfortable?” she says, twirling a lock of dark brown hair between her fingers seductively. “I’ll tell you what is uncomfortable... When shithead aliens kill your whole family. That’s somewhat irritating, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’m terribly sorry, Thala, we had no idea you—”
“Shut up!” she shouts, then changes direction, her voice taking on the soft, lulling quality of her earlier queries. “Shiv, I seek to be your friend, out there, in the open ocean. Us together. Will you do that for me, sweet Shiv?” She projects pictures of the two of them entangled in an intimate embrace and, without thinking, he leans his body against her tank, the blood rushing to his face and other less obvious parts.
“Please stop…” he says, not meaning it. He can’t stop looking at her. She is mesmerising. Her dark hair swirls around her beautiful, oval face. Her green eyes trap him in their glowing, watery depths. Her voice is strong. What had he been about to tell her? Why had he come back into the tank room? It had been urgent. He’d been listening to Juder and the Original, then he’d decided he didn’t like what they said. It had been something to do with the humans. An important decision, something good for her, something that would help Fastion...to escape. A plan… He sang it back to her. He called on all his skill to sing her a picture of freedom...
“What?” Thala exclaims. She gulps in surprise. “What did you just show me, Sprat? Help us escape?”
Shiv breathes deeply in relief as he feels her release his mind. He leans over, hiding his physical response to her ministrations, panting. “I will help you. I will get you out of here. I will help you escape! They plan to execute you tomorrow, we must escape then.”
“How?” shouts the girl.
“I will tell you, but...there is one condition.” Shiv straightens.
Fastion presses against the glass, fire in his eyes. “What, Shiv? What?”
“You must take me with you!”
23
It isn’t until I’m surrounded by the aggressive snarls of the Spratonite masses that I feel true fear. Shiv’s plan is so full of holes it’s like a donut-shaped sponge. And his demands are impossible. Why had I agreed to trust him?
He meets my eyes now, his alien head bobbing in the ocean current. He shows no emotion. His face is the only one I look at, ignoring the hateful stares of the rest. I can feel Fastion shaking beside me, but my grandmother floats upright, seemingly oblivious to the festering energy around her. I’m almost sure her mind is gone. Somewhere in this hell she has succumbed to the small voices and fading memories of her past and found it a whole lot nicer place to be than stuck in a glass prison being prodded by needles. Right now, I get it.
They let us out. We’re in some kind of shallow water central meeting area, a long half circle of coral reef at our backs. The surface of the ocean is still about thirty metres above us, but it might as well be as far away as Venus. If it weren’t for the hordes of angry aliens, our surroundings would be beautiful. Schools of brightly coloured tropical fish scurry around, nibbling at the silver on our tails. Colourful coral is bathed in beams of light from above. Silver lining, it’s good to be out of that tank.
Two Sprat guards holding coral spears approach, dragging Bastion between them. His face is a pallid shade of blue. Fastion freezes beside me.
“Bastion,” he whispers. Bastion manages to lift his head and open his eyes for a moment, fixing them on my face. I raise a hand to my lips. I swear he smiles but it’s gone in an instant. The guards haul him toward us, and I can see the angry wound on his shoulder stretching against the harsh movement. I ache to touch him, to soothe his pain. The guards push him into our huddle, and I put my arm around his waist.
The crowds of jeering Sprats part, and a large collection of weird old women approach, pushing Jaes in front of them. Each woman is bald, their skin a mouldy green. A mottled pattern dots their bulbous heads with brown. Their eyes are lidless like the common Sprats, but each opaque jade eye is rectangular and placed closer to the sides of their heads. Their ancient breasts hang almost to their knees, like oranges in the bottom of wet socks. The creepiest one has her claws wrapped around Jaes’ little shoulders, and Fastion grabs me just in time to stop me darting forward.
These must be the Originals. The leaders of the Sprats. The key word creeps. Shiv says they’re powerful and can sing like I can. He says they are the oldest of his long-living people and everyone reveres and obeys them because they have set foot on the Homeworld. He says we must never underestimate them.
One of the creepy old women floats to the forefront of the crowd. The word ‘silence’ penetrates our minds. I recoil from its power.
Her voice is like a chainsaw. “These are the Merfolk! They are at fault! They have attacked our city. The people must have vengeance!” The Sprats raise their arms, fingers splayed, claws extended and scream their consent. “They have destroyed property. They have taken lives. They have harmed the Homeworld ships!”
I bristle. What about all that the Sprats have done to us? I try not to project my thoughts. I watch Shiv for a sign, his eyes seemingly intent on the leader’s words.
I have no idea how I’ll manage to keep my promise to him. It’s an outright lie. How could he possibly hope to come with us? One look at his Spratonite face and my uncle will attack. Everyone back home wants revenge. Surely, he knows this? But his demand is to join us in our escape or no deal. Supposedly, the alternative is certain death. Stupid fish face doesn’t realise he’ll get the same from our kind, if we ever manage to get out of here.
The Originals
approach, the crowd roaring their approval. This is where Shiv is supposed to distract them somehow. He refused to tell us the details. He said his leaders were no longer listening in, but he didn’t want to take any chances. I wanted to make him tell me everything, but what choice did I have? He said: “Trust me.” But right now he’s doing nothing.
“Now, with the power extended to us by the Homeworld,” shouts the woman, “we proclaim you enemies of the people and sentence you to be killed by those you have wronged. My people, you may eat!”
The crowd surge forward. “Pull them apart, limb from limb!” cries the evil Original. The crowd roars. “Pull the heads from their bodies! Pluck the tails from their torsos!”
“Shiv! You krill head, do something!” I cry. The press of bodies come closer. I grip Bastion’s drooping torso and feel Fastion ready himself beside me.
“Trust me!” Shiv yells back.
Panic engulfs my mind in a bright red terror, and I prepare for their attack. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the Original holding Jaes lean toward him. She opens her revolting mouth wider than any Mer or human creature could, as if her jaw is on a hinge. Three rows of sharp teeth aim at Jaes’ jugular, and he squeals and strains to escape her.
But just as I think Jaes is a goner, Shiv begins to sing. Loud and strange, his voice surges in waves over the crowd, distracting them enough to stop their onward rush. The Sprat holding Jaes closes her huge mouth in slow motion, her eyes glued on Shiv in surprise. He swims into the crowd, his alien melody reverberating around the natural coral reef amphitheatre, expanding through the ocean’s blue spaces and echoing out to the surrounding waters. A long, melodic tone replies as something nearby answers his bidding. A small pinprick of hope blossoms inside me, and I try to join in the alien song, lending it strength, two opposites creating harmony.
Bigger than jumbo jets, huge shadows approach the clearing, their bulk looming closer until we make out their shape and form. Whales, maybe ten or more. The Spratonites watch the behemoths’ advance in awe. But only one whale draws near enough to fit into the shallow space, nudging its way past the Spratonite crowds. Its long, pale length is speckled with light grey patches. Shiv keeps singing, beckoning the leader closer. Until it stops beside him. Shiv falls silent.
