Emerald Sea

by John Ringo

  The sonar blast that the orca released was like nothing that Herzer had ever heard, the shriek of a dying child the size of a whale was the closest he could imagine. It thrashed its way to the surface and blasted out air, flailing its tail and spinning around the cavern until it impacted nose first on one of the unyielding rock walls.

  "Quit this!" Herzer shouted. He put his knife by the eye of the beast and it quieted.

  "Leb go ob my ho!" the orca said as distinctly as it could. Its surface method of communication was its blowhole, which Herzer still gripped, although less firmly.

  "The hell I will," Herzer said. "I've got a cutting edge on this thing. I can cut right through the muscle. You won't be able to submerge for weeks until it heals. You'll starve to death first."

  "Baberd," the orca said. "Pleab?"

  "No," Herzer replied. He suddenly realized that the orca, by its dorsal fin, size and, hell, demeanor, was no more than a teen, probably a young one. "Where are the rest of the orcas?"

  "Nob gonna te'," the orca said. "Leb go."

  "Fisk you," Herzer said, engaging his pinky muscles and bearing down with the internal gear.

  There was another shriek from the orca and it sobbed in pain.

  "Where are the rest of them?"

  "A' da fron," the orca sobbed. "Wai'ing."

  "For you to bring them little mer-snacks?" Herzer said, nastily. "I don't think so. Turn around and put your tail up on the ledge. And no tricks; I can press harder than I have. Not to mention putting this knife right into your brain-case."

  He maneuvered the orca's tail onto the ledge and had one of the mer-women secure it with his leather belt to a projecting rock. Then he let go of the creature's blowhole and swam around to where it could see him with eye and sonar. Herzer ducked below the water for the conversation.

  "I know what it is to fall in with the wrong companions," Herzer said. "Which is the only reason you're still alive. I'm going to ask the mer-ladies not to kill you. On the other hand, did you catch any of the children?"

  "No," the orca said. "I didn't want to do this, but Shanol . . ."

  "I know," Herzer said. "And I also know that having power over the defenseless can be a rush. I know that you enjoyed yourself, even while you hated feeling that way. Am I right?"

  "Yes," the orca whispered.

  "I don't have time for this, but you need to think about something while you're tied up here. Which side do you really want to be on? Who are you, inside? A good guy or a bad guy? Think of this as a chance to correct a mistake. And use it."

  He popped up to the surface of the water and looked at the mer-women, still huddled on the ledge.

  "Ladies, this young man is very sorry for causing you all this distress," he said. "For that reason, and because he's a source of information, I'd appreciate the hell out of it if you could see your way clear to not beating him to death with rocks."

  There were a few half hysterical giggles at this speech but one of the mer-women crawled forward in a furious slither.

  "He nearly ate my Gram!" she shouted. "I want him dead!"

  "Yes, well, as I said he's sorry," Herzer replied, heartily. "And we all have our character flaws. I, for example, get angry when a reasonable request isn't granted. Am I making myself clear, ma'am?"

  "Yes," she said, gulping.

  "Glad we've got that sorted out," Herzer replied. "Now, I think I need to go see what's waiting at the entrance."

  "You're crazy," the mer-woman said. "The rest of the orcas are going to be out there!"

  "Well, better out there than in here," Herzer pointed out. "And if this youngster doesn't bring them out little mer-snacks they might try to wriggle their way in. I think I need to go make sure that doesn't happen."

  "Why?" the mer-woman asked. "Why are you doing this?"

  "As I said," Herzer replied, sadly. "We all have our character flaws." Then he ducked under the water and headed for the blackness of the tunnel.

  * * *

  The tunnel was pitchy black, a solid darkness that seemed to creep into his soul. It also was so tight in places, he had no idea how the orca had wormed its way in. Possibly there were better ways through, ways that would be visible to a creature with sonar. But Herzer could only grope his way along, hoping against hope that there were no side turns that would take him off into some tunnel from which he might never find his way. Again and again he hit projections of rock, once solidly on his forehead, and he brushed against things that he really was sure he didn't want to see. Once his hands settled into a mass of corruption that burned his skin so that he flailed back wildly, shaking his good hand as it tingled and burned.

  Finally, when he was sure that he had lost his way and would be wandering around in this watery tomb forever, or until his air ran out, there was a faint gleam of blue light. His eyes, adjusted to the darkness, started to let him distinguish the walls around him and he sped up, headed for the light, headed for hope. Until the light was extinguished as an orca head popped into the opening and blasted him with sonar.

  "Well, what do we have here?" Shanol said. "If it isn't the little lieutenant. What happened to Tomas?"

  "He saw the error of his straying ways," Herzer said, suddenly tired. He could see the other orcas cruising back and forth; it looked as if most of the pod was out there. He could hold the entrance against them, he was sure, but his every bit of training resisted simply standing on the defensive.

  "You'd better hope he's still alive," Shanol said.

  "What do you care?" Herzer said. "You were the one that sent him into a tunnel that could have killed him."

  "I knew he could get through," Shanol said. "There's a lot I know. Like what happened with you and Daneh. Do you dream of her at night, Herzer?"

  "Oh, man, you have been reading too much pop psychology," Herzer laughed. "There's a degree of anger there. But anger is such a useful emotion when you learn to properly channel it." With that he darted forward and slammed his knife into the orca's eye.

  Shanol had opened his mouth to dart forward and catch the human but the narrow entrance of the tunnel prevented him from moving and Herzer's sudden attack caught him off guard. He screamed in sonar, bubbles pouring out of his blowhole and backed up, his tail flailing wildly.

  Herzer lost his grip on the dagger as he was slammed into the roof of the tunnel and he backed up into the entrance as the orca swam backwards, blood streaming from his eye, the hilt of the knife standing out like some bizarre ornament.

  "Kill you!" the orca screamed, heading to the surface and getting a breath of air. But the sound he made was as much sob as scream.

  "Come on and do it, then," Herzer shouted back. "Come into the tunnel! I can stay under as long as I like. You have to breathe. Come into my parlor, little fly!"

  "I'll kill you," the orca sobbed. "Kill you and eat you! Eat you alive, from the legs up! Nittaatsuq!" he continued, leaning the knife towards one of the other orcas.

  Like the delphinoids the Changed orcas had stubby fingers and the indicated orca drew the knife out of the eye socket with a quick jerk and a scream from his leader. Then Nittaatsuq got what he thought was a brilliant idea and swam forward, thrusting his pectoral fin with the knife gripped clumsily in its fingers into the narrow crevice.

  Herzer simply laughed and grasped the blade with his prosthetic, wrenching it out of the grip of the orca with an expert twist.

  "Thanks for my knife back," Herzer laughed. "I was sure I'd lost it for good."

  "BASTARD!" Shanol bellowed, charging at the entrance, then turned aside, trailing blood.

  "Hey," Herzer said, in a thoughtful tone. "Don't sharks home in on the smell of blood?"

  "I'm going to kill you," the orca ground out.

  "You keep saying that," Herzer responded. "I don't think you're orca enough. I've had much better people than you try to kill me and so far they've all failed. By the way, the orca that was after the delphino found out that he really doesn't like dragons. And as soon as they get done with
the ixchitl, they'll be back for me. I'd suggest you beat feet before they get here."

  "We will," Shanol said after a moment's pause. "But we'll be back. You wait."

  "Breathlessly," Herzer replied. "I'm so looking forward to it."

  When the orcas were gone he took a deep breath, noticing for the first time a slight constriction on his breathing caused by the mask. He started to panic, his breath coming faster and faster, feeling that he couldn't get enough air into his lungs. Finally, he got a grip on himself, thrusting the dagger into a convenient crack and holding onto the walls as he strove to conquer his breathing. Finally, when he stopped hyperventilating, he started to calm down, as the mask finally had enough time to pump the built-up carbon dioxide from the fight out of the area. Eventually he hung, limp, from his deathlike grip on the rock until Chauncey and a group of worried, spear-wielding mer-men appeared in the entrance and he could finally leave his lonely vigil and swim to the surface to gulp in lungfuls of good, clean, salt-tainted air.

  * * *

  "I warned you about the dragons!" Mosur said.

  "I am in no mood for you," Shanol replied, tightly. The salt water in his wound stung like fire.

  "We need to get out of the area," Shedol said. The orca second in command had returned covered in punctures and slices from Joanna's attack. "We can't stay down long enough to keep out of the vision range of those damned dragons."

  "We can just go back," one of the pod pinged nervously. "There's too many of them."

  "No," Shanol replied.

  "The ixchitl are calling for us to ambush them," Shedol noted. "They have a plan."

  "BE DAMNED TO IXCHITL PLANS!" the big orca boomed. "No. I have a plan." He turned to Mosur and ran a wave of sonar over him. "You're of no use to us now."

  "Good," Mosur said. "I'm quit of this."

  "And we have a long way to go," the orca continued, running his sonar over the mer again. "And I'm hungry."

  With the small bone that they used to communicate underwater, it was almost impossible for the mer to scream.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The wind was fair from the northeast and the carrier rolled over a slight sea with a string of islands to its north.

  "If this holds we'll be up to the mer-town by dusk," Commander Mbeki said.

  "Three days late," the skipper growled. Beating around the edge of the islands had been a slow process, especially since they'd had to negotiate some tricky shallows.

  "You can't control the winds, sir," the commander replied.

  "No, and I can't control New Destiny, either," Chang replied. "We lost half a day with that little encounter."

  "Well, so far, so good," Mbeki said.

  "Something in the water to port," the lookout called.

  "I think I should have knocked on some wood," Mbeki said. "Could you be clearer than 'something'?" he yelled.

  "No, it's . . . coming up from the depths. Looks like a . . ."

  Before he could complete the sentence a gigantic tentacle snaked over the side of the ship, smashing the rail and twisting into the ratlines of the mainmast. The ship heeled hard over to port and shuddered as the weight of a giant squid caught it.

  "KRAKEN!" the skipper yelled. "Chief Brooks! Axemen! Sound general quarters!"

  More and more tentacles slithered over the side of the ship as the beak of the immense squid was revealed. One intelligent eye was just visible below water level and it rolled from side to side, searching for prey. It found it as one of the sailors dashing at the tentacles was caught around the waist and hoisted, screaming, over the side of the ship. The screams were abruptly cut off as the sailor's head was thrust into the half-meter-wide, parrotlike beak of the squid. It crunched with bitter finality.

  Mbeki found himself down on the deck, snatching up the fallen axe of the sailor and hacking at a tentacle that had wrapped itself around the mainmast. The beast was trying to turn the clipper over on its side and its immense weight might just manage it. The body of the beast was half out of the water, its tentacles given free play around the maindeck. It caught another of the crew, one of the marines who were stabbing at the tentacles with boarding pikes, and the marine was dragged over the side, still stabbing at the immense tentacle wrapped around his waist.

  Mbeki and Brooks were hacking at the tentacle around the mainmast, in a rhythm with one striking as other raised his axe, when one of the blindly thrashing tentacles wrapped itself around the commander's ankle and started dragging him towards the edge. He grabbed a stanchion and his arms were nearly ripped from their sockets as he struggled to keep from being taken to the beast's maw.

  Brooks leapt over the half-severed tentacle attached to the mast and hacked downward at the one wrapped around the commander's ankle. The tentacle had only caught him with a tip and a single blow from the chief severed it to lie flopping on the deck. But even as he turned back to the one around the mast, the ship heaved over on its side and the water came up over the bulwarks as the squid half humped itself onto the ship. Now that it could see what it was doing, its tentacles attacked the axe-wielders and Brooks found himself wrapped in its slimy clutches.

  He hacked futilely at the thigh-thick tentacle around his waist but it was to no avail and he found himself in the air, being lowered to the beast's maw. He saw it open to receive his head just as a jet of fire went past his ear, and impacted squarely on the beast's mouth.

  The tentacle around his waist tightened convulsively and he felt his eyes practically pop out of their sockets as the air was driven from his lungs. The next thing he knew he was flying through the air.

  * * *

  Evan heard the screams from the deck and felt the ship heave over as the big kettle drum on the deck began to pound the signal for battle stations. Without a thought he caught up the flamethrower and started to make his way onto the deck. The ship heeled again and he was thrown against a bulkhead, the flamethrower half thrown over his shoulder catching his arm painfully. He saw the damned rabbit in the corridor, and shouted at him.

  "What the hell are you doing just loafing along?" Evan yelled, getting the other strap over his shoulder. "We've got a problem!"

  "And that means what to me?" the rabbit said, stopping and nibbling at his shoulder. "Me, I'm heading for the lifeboats. You can deal with whatever it is."

  "Damn you," Evan said, stepping over the rabbit and heading for the companionway.

  The rabbit looked after him then pointed a finger at himself.

  "I damn thee," the rabbit muttered. "Shoot, didn't work."

  * * *

  Evan stumbled onto the deck to a scene of pandemonium. Tentacles were slithering across the deck in every direction or were already wrapped around pieces of the ship. As he stepped out of the companionway the ship tilted to an alarming degree and water shipped over the side as the kraken hoisted itself up. He saw Chief Brooks chopping at a tentacle that had caught the XO and then the chief was caught by another tentacle and lifted into the air.

  Evan found himself screaming as he ran through the jungle of writhing arms, desperately clicking at the self-starter for the flamethrower. Finally the pilot light caught and he slid into knee-deep water and pointed the device over the side, triggering it for its first test.

  The stream, he noted in a strange abstraction that made the whole experience dreamlike, was darned near perfect, some droplets coming down from the stream but most of them impacting in the target area. As the jellied gasoline hit the squid just above the mouth—he'd been aiming directly for the maw but close was good enough with a flamethrower—the squid convulsed, its jets closing to pull it back. The tentacles thrashed wildly and then with another massive pulse it slithered off the edge of the ship and disappeared back into the depths so fast it was gone before the ship had heaved back up onto an even keel.

  Evan found himself on the deck, the end of the flamethrower dripping jellied gasoline onto the, fortunately water-covered, deck. He stumbled to his feet and shut down the valves as sailors grou
ped around him, pounding him on his shoulders in lieu of his tank-covered back.

  "Mister Mayerle!" the skipper bellowed from the quarterdeck.

  "Sir," Evan said, spinning in place and giving the skipper a salute that, as a civilian, was not strictly necessary.

  The skipper returned it anyway and then grinned.

  "Damned fine job," the skipper said. "Thank you. But before you use that thing on my ship again, kindly find something that allows us to extinguish those little fires you just left behind."

  "Yes, sir!" Evan said. Buckets of sand had already been dropped on the dribbles that had hit the deck and looking over the side it was clear that the ship had drifted clear of the puddle of burning fuel the scorched squid had left behind.

  "Commander Mbeki?" the skipper called.

  "Sir?" the commander said, getting to his feet.

  "We've got some damaged rigging," the skipper said, turning to look at the sails, some of which were flapping in the breeze. Fortunately the wind was not strong or they would have shivered themselves to pieces. "Get a damage party to work. How's the chief?"

  "I'll live, Skipper," Brooks said, getting shakily to his feet.

  "Bridge!" the lookout called. "Dragon, fine on the port bow! Signaling. Number Twenty-three, forty-seven, fourteen!"

  " 'Enemy in area,' " Midshipman Donahue said. " 'Under attack. Make all sail.' "

  "Bit late," the skipper said. "Get to work, Commander!"

  * * *

  "Wait," Joel said as one of the deck apes started to flip a severed tentacle end over the side.

  "What?" the seaman asked, tired and unhappy from the battle and the cleanup. What he didn't need was one of the damned wardroom stewards slowing him down.

  "We need to keep a souvenir," Joel said, stooping to pick up the tentacle. "We'll put it in alcohol and set it up in the mess or something."

  "Whatever," the seaman replied. "I've got work to do."

  "As do I," the steward said, picking up the tentacle and taking it below.

  Now if he could only get a gene scan out of Sheida, one of his cases might at least get closed.