The Atomic Sea

by Jack Conner

  The troops picked themselves up, turned to the monstrous amoeba spreading outward from Layanna and enveloping the room—and fired. Guns roared, and troopers cursed, sweated and ducked behind furniture. Bullets punched into the amoeba-form but seemed to have no impact. More and more bullets hit it with the same lack of result.

  Avery, struggling and gasping in the grip of the lacy, pinkish tentacle, stared at Layanna, who now floated in the midst of the beautiful, horrible being as if it buoyed her up, her eyes closed, her face serene, otherworldly light bathing her and streaming her hair out behind her. Organelles bobbed amid the amoeba, green and purple and turquoise. Avery knew this was the result of the crustacean’s meat, and the meat of the eelfish; Layanna had told him such food nurtured parts of herself, extradimensional parts, that he couldn’t see. Now I can.

  Tentacles whipped toward Sheridan, but she dodged and ducked, eerily adroit. The attacks only delayed her in her progress toward the gun.

  Other tentacles wrapped around armored troops and hauled them screaming off the floor. Some passed electric current into the men so that they jerked and spasmed. Some tore the men and women open in geysers of blood, ripping them violently in half and flinging their pieces across the room. Some stung them with what might be jellyfish-like venom, or brought them, kicking and cursing, through the purplish wall of the amoeba’s sac and into the thing itself. There the substance of the being ate them like acid, dissolving their flesh and bones slowly and creating majestic swirls of blood that trickled throughout the being’s body, running through amoebic veins and tingeing organelles.

  “No!” Avery yelled at Layanna. “Don’t kill them. They’re just following orders.”

  She slew one soldier after another.

  Avery told himself that it was necessary, that despite being good men and women the soldiers would have followed orders to have him and the others tortured and killed, that they would have prevented the good Layanna might be capable of, that simply by following orders they would only hasten the collapse of Ghenisa and the deaths of countless millions. Yet, as they screamed and were torn apart, their blood spattering the walls, Avery thought, I’m helping a monster.

  Sheridan reached her gun. With a victorious shout, she wrapped her hands about it and turned toward Layanna.

  A pinkish tentacle wrapped around the admiral’s foot. She screamed. It hauled her up into the air, dangling her upside down. Some excruciating poison must have passed into her, as she threw back her head and screeched in agony. Veins stood out on her forehead. Her body writhed and jerked.

  She almost—almost—let go of the pistol.

  But then, even through her misery, she seemed to gain control over herself. Avery saw her jaw clamp shut, her eyes narrow, and her gun arm raise toward Layanna.

  “Watch out!” Avery said.

  Too late. Even as Layanna stretched out another pseudopod toward Sheridan, Sheridan pointed her strange gun directly at Layanna and fired.

  The shot distorted the air immediately around the gun, and for a moment Avery thought he saw odd colors and lights.

  The bullet punched through the phantasmagoric substance of the amoeba form, barreled straight toward Layanna, through swirling clouds of blood and fantastic organelles, and struck Layanna in the abdomen.

  Immediately, Layanna’s eyes opened, and her expression of serenity became one of pain. Just as immediately, the amoeba form shrank, dwindling and dwindling, seeming to be drawn directly into Layanna’s body, and Avery heard a vast, wet sucking noise. A weird reek lingered on the air, a smell of sulfur and ammonia, seaweed and rot.

  The weird lights and smells vanished, as did the amoeba form. Layanna collapsed to the ground.

  Sheridan, suddenly not dangled upside-down by the tentacle, dropped to the floor and groaned.

  Avery, also no longer supported, fell on the ruins of an old couch. He rolled off, hitting his head on the floor.

  Bodies and parts lay everywhere, strewn about the room along with wrecked furniture, priceless antiques that were now rubbish, a dozen shattered lanterns, broken sculptures, and assorted expensive debris. Blood rolled down oil paintings on the wall that would have fetched a fortune at an art auction.

  When he recovered, Avery found himself next to the upper half of a soldier’s body. The man stared glassily. Blood drooled from his mouth.

  Out of the corner of his eye Avery saw Sheridan reach the door and slip outside. Avery grabbed up the soldier’s side-arm, climbed to his feet and, a bit unsteadily, pointed his weapon at the door, but it was too late. Sheridan was gone.

  “What the fuck just happened?” Janx roared.

  “I-I can’t believe it,” stuttered Byron, clutching his bleeding leg and staring about at the wreckage. All the troops were dead—in pieces, poisoned, dissolved.

  Avery’s gaze settled on Layanna.

  He dropped his gun and ran toward where she lay, bleeding and unconscious, on the floor. The air still rippled vaguely about her and smelled of ammonia, but as the seconds passed this faded too. He checked her pulse and examined her wound, a red hole in her side just below her ribs.

  He spun to Janx. “You’re got a first aid kit, don’t you? For sparring?”

  Janx nodded and vanished down the hall, saying over his shoulder, “We don’t have time for this.” Moments later he returned with a far more advanced kit than Avery had hoped for. He remembered the big man’s criminal operations and the need to avoid certified doctors that might be duty-bound to report certain wounds, and thought he understood.

  “We need to go,” Hildra said. Her monkey hunkered low and subdued on her shoulder, eyes darting all around.

  “She’s right,” Janx said. “That bitch’ll have armored transports on the street, with more men, and they’ll be up here soon.”

  Avery nodded. “Very well. Come then.”

  And, very carefully, he gathered Layanna in his arms and followed the others out the window to the fire escape.

  * * *

  Wind howled around them, and Layanna seemed to grow heavier against Avery as they ascended, the fire escape rattling and scraping against the brick sides of the tenement. Soon they reached the roof. With Janx in the lead, they found a makeshift bridge composed of wooden planks nailed together with rusting iron that spanned the gap to the next roof. They crossed over, found a bridge to the adjacent building, then the next.

  They climbed mountains and descended valleys of brick and stucco and concrete and wood, and at times Avery heard shouting in the distance and twice the crack of guns. Desperate, they ran, and ran, sometimes disappearing inside buildings, sometimes plunging down into basements and taking tunnels that connected to basements in other buildings, then ascending to the rooftops once more. This was the Tangle, and Janx’s band knew it inside and out, surely better than their pursuers. Byron cursed and complained with every step, and not without reason; blood pumped through the gauze Avery had hastily tied around his thigh, and he must be in considerable pain. Still, he showed remarkable fortitude in forcing himself on. Avery had to shift the burden of Layanna to Janx eventually, who carried her for a ways, then transferred her to Muirblaag, who seemed to enjoy it a bit too much.

  Avery tried not to think about what he had seen in Janx’s hotel room. Tried not to think about her.

  At last, close to dawn, they paused for a breather atop a certain rooftop garden, and Avery checked on Layanna’s wounds.

  “I think we lost them,” Hildra said, gasping for air. Her monkey Hildebrand climbed down, investigated a patch of vegetables, then the water tank.

  “Yeah,” said Byron. “’less they send out rays.”

  They looked at each other uneasily.

  “Depends on Sheridan,” Avery said, wiping his patient’s bullet wound with alcohol. The pain didn’t rouse her. “Whether she can convince the higher-ups that Layanna’s that important. Of course, she’s already convinced them to lie to the populace, to conduct road-blocks, raids and what-have-you. From what I understand, s
he’s controlling Haggarty himself.”

  “That her name?” Muirblaag asked, staring down at the unconscious woman. “Layanna?” At Avery’s nod, Muirblaag’s wide, fishy mouth turned downward at the corners. “What is she?”

  Avery sighed. “I don’t know.”

  “I have to get to my stash,” Janx said.

  “Come again?”

  “I’ve got bolt-holes all over. Stashes of cash and gear in case I have to light out. We’ll need money, and one of my stashes is near. I’ll go to it while you play doctor.”

  Janx disappeared over the next roof as Avery prepared for surgery. Hildra helped during the procedure, handing him necessary tools and restraining Layanna when a spasm seized her. The operation proceeded slowly, handicapped by instruments, conditions and even Layanna herself, who jerked in pain. At last Avery removed the bullet and carefully sewed Layanna back up.

  “She should be healing better,” Avery said when it was done. “Now that she’s fed.”

  They had all been quiet about what had happened in Janx’s apartment. Stunned by their friends’ deaths and the manner of Layanna’s transformation, if it was a transformation, everyone seemed afraid to bring it up. Nobody wanted to poke it for fear of waking it. But the dam had to break at some point.

  “What the fuck did she do, anyway?” Byron said.

  As soon as he spoke, the others erupted in questions. Avery looked at them warily. Janx was just returning, a money belt slung over his shoulders, a revolver strapped under his arm, and he heard the chorus of questions, too.

  “Come on, Doc,” he said, throwing down the belt with a grunt and leaning against a wall that contained a riot of winter greenery. “It’s past time we knew what we’ve gotten ourselves into. Tell us. What by Thog’s cancerous cock happened down there?”

  Avery leaned back and looked up at the stars and moons. “She told me that this ... her physical body ... was only part of her. She’s an extradimensional being, as you heard her say, and part of her, perhaps most of her, exists outside.” He let that sink in. “I think we saw a glimpse of what the rest of her looks like. She brought it over to save us. But it cost her.”

  “The bullet, you mean?” asked Muirblaag.

  “That too. She has extraordinary healing abilities. I’ve seen them in action. I saw her heal herself from terrible burns inflicted on her by the gastric juices of a whale, and from the sea itself. I think she could heal now if she hadn’t spent so much of herself bridging the dimensional gulf, bringing the amoeba-facet over.” He saw them staring at him in awe, as if he knew what he was talking about. “Of course, I don’t really know. I’m just guessing, putting what I do know together. But I think if we brought her some unprocessed seafood she would be able to regain her strength, maybe recover.”

  They exchanged secret glances amongst each other, and he let them. They were a closed group, a wounded group, with two of their members down. They needed to maintain their exclusionary status to maintain any status at all. If they opened to him, they might just dissolve.

  Finally Muirblaag stood. “I’ll go. I know all the finest rotgrub in the city.”

  The others agreed wordlessly. While he was gone, Avery tended to Byron, who had drunk himself into such a stupor from his flask that he almost didn’t seem to mind. The bullet had passed clean through the meat of his thigh, but it had nicked an artery, just barely, and done considerable damage to the muscle. He was lucky to be alive, and it was possible he would be crippled for life. Avery patched him up as best he could, but he knew it was not his best work. He had neither the proper instruments nor resources.

  The pain seemed to provoke Byron enough that he regained a semblance of sobriety by the time Avery finished. “Thanks for the patch,” he muttered, grimacing. He tipped his flask to take another sip, but only a drop came out. A sly look entered his eyes. “Hey, Doc. Got any painkillers?”

  “Any painkillers I gave you would render you incapable of flight.” Avery held Byron’s gaze to make sure he understood. “Do you want me to give you one, or would you rather live?”

  Byron sulked a bit, and Avery knew the pain must be extreme and felt a bit bad about his tone. It worked, though.

  “Alright,” Byron said. “But I want double later.”

  “We’ll see.”

  When Muirblaag returned, he carried an assortment of dodgy seafood, from mutant squid to clams with teeth to iridescent, faintly glowing spinefish. Layanna, still unconscious, had to be hand-fed. Avery twisted the clam, wringing its juices into her mouth. He gutted the spinefish and let its liquids fall past her lips. He placed a small, rubbery piece of squid onto her tongue, helped her chew and coaxed her to swallow. It worked. She seemed to stir, and her temperature decreased.

  Her eyes opened.

  Avery couldn’t help but laugh. He hadn’t realized how nervous he’d been, not just for her sake but for his and the others. It would have been farcical if they had destroyed their lives to aid a dead woman. For him it almost would have been worse if she’d remained unconscious, if he had to tend her through another coma.

  When he saw her eyes open, however, something ran through him, and he knew there was something more to it than that. Perhaps tending to her for so long reminded him of caring for Mari. He didn’t know. But there was a tightness in his chest that lifted when he saw her wake.

  “Can you hear me?” he said.

  She nodded, and the others crowded around, murmuring.

  Janx crouched next to Avery and stared down at her. “You sure got us into a heap of shit, darlin’. Two of my friends died ‘cause of you.”

  Pain creased her brow. “Many more will die, I’m afraid,” she said in Octunggen, and Avery translated. She could understand Ghenisan better than she could speak it.

  “You mean the war?” Hildra said.

  Layanna nodded again. She tried to rise, but her face screwed up and she collapsed, trembling. “The war will sweep the world,” she said, then continued in a smaller voice: “All who don’t bow before the Lightning Crown will die. It’s why we gifted our technologies to them, so that none could stand against them. Octung will dominate the world, and through it the Collossum will exercise their will. And that will be the beginning of the end of all you know.”

  Wind hissed around them, blowing soot and soil and splinters of cement. It grew colder.

  “What makes you the authority?” Byron said.

  “You have seen it,” Layanna said. “You saw that I am not ... like you.”

  The small man eyed her, both in disgust and fear. “You’re not human.”

  Avery started to speak, then hesitated. But these people had risked their lives. Their friends had died for this. They deserved to know whatever he did.

  “She’s part of the Black Sect, the Octunggen saboteurs,” he said. “And there’s more. I think ... from what Sheridan said, it sounded like Layanna may be one of the Collossum. I’m sorry, Janx. I lied to you.”

  As one, they stiffened. Some backed away. All stared at Layanna as though they’d received a bucket of ice water in the face.

  “Is this true?” Janx said. “You some kinda Octunggen god, darlin’?”

  She studied them for a long moment. At last she said, “I am one of the Collossum.”

  Shocked silence greeted this. Wind hissed and howled.

  “Well, shit,” Hildra said, visibly trembling.

  “And the others,” Janx said. “The other Collossum. Are they all like you? Can they all do ... what you did back there?”

  “I did not do anything. It’s what I am. And some of them, some of the other Collossum, are much more powerful than I am. Much older, stronger, steeped in the energies of the Outer Lords. And now they’re hunting me.”

  “Holy fucking shit,” Byron said.

  “I can stop it,” she said. “The war. At least ... I think I can.” She opened her mouth to say something, then grimaced and stopped. Her eyes were dimming. She didn’t have much strength left.

  “Tell
us quickly,” Avery said.

  She gripped his hand. Her voice shook as she lifted her head and stared into his eyes.

  “The Black Sect has broken from the Collossum. We have ... gone against them. We wish to preserve humanity, not destroy it.”

  “How?”

  “I need to reach the others. The surviving members of the Sect that set out with me. Most are in Lusterqal, but some ... we set out on a mission ...”

  “Where ... ? Where did you go?” Avery knew that Lusterqal was the capital of Octung, where the Great Temple of the Collossum was located.

  Breath shuddered from her lips. “Just know—those that went with me on the mission, there may still be some living. We were attacked, but ... there is a presence, in the mountains. If there are any still alive, that is where they would be. Take me there and I will ask no more of you.”

  “Why? What will you do there?”

  “Once I rejoin the others, together my friends and I will have strength enough ... to venture to an ... altar.”

  “Like, to a god?” Hildra said, when Avery had translated.

  “To the Collossum,” Layanna replied.

  “You won’t find one of those outside Octung, blondie,” Hildra said. “Or places they’ve taken over, anyway.”

  “No. There are some. Scattered groups outside Octung worship the Collossum, too, but where ... I don’t know. But the presence in the mountains can help us find one, and when we do, my friends and I can use the altar to transmit information to the Black Sect hiding in Lusterqal. If I can send them the plans ... the design I made, based on what we learned on our mission ... I can stop the war.”

  “What plans?” Avery asked.

  “A device ... the Device, as we call it; it is that important ... they’ll build it from my plans. The reason we made our journey was to research how to design it. It’s why so many died. Why I almost died.” Her voice caught, then went on. “The Device will disrupt the extradimensional frequencies of Octung’s weaponry. It will render them useless.”

  When Avery had translated this, Janx and the others blinked, and some of them looked at each other in shock—and appreciation.