The Atomic Sea: Omnibus of Volumes Six, Seven and Eight

by Conner, Jack

  Off Avery’s expression, Jeffers said, “Those are the processing plants. Cleans the fish as much as they can. Beyond them’s the dam. You pro’lly wanna go on up to another level.”

  Avery thanked him and climbed out of the boat, then made his way past the infected people coming and going from the docks, all seemingly about the business of fishing or, in some cases, apparently, scavenging; he saw two men unloading a boat filled with various cast-offs and debris: a sheet of metal, a wooden cabinet that had been broken apart and half rotted, and a great box overflowing with wiring. The locals spared Avery a glance or two, but most seemed intent on whatever they were doing, though three small children, all infected, did approach him begging for food or money. He passed out some coins and they scattered.

  Beyond the docks stretched the machines and plants of the processors, and beyond them Avery could see, far in the distance, the lights and bulk of what might be a dam. I’ve tumbled into a dream, he thought.

  He found a wooden ramp that led up to the next level and took it. This level was lined on the wall side by shops and eateries and other establishments of dubious quality and a broad walkway on the side facing the river. Bridges spanned the gap to a mirror of this tier on the other side.

  One business had blacked-out mirrors and a doorway covered with a tattered velvet hanging. A half-naked woman, having thrown back the velvet partway, reclined against one side of the frame, displaying her body to any that walked by. She might have been attractive once, but she’d obviously led a hard life, and it had mapped her face and body with lines and wrinkles before her time. Her left leg ended in a flipper, and Avery could see the melding skin tones where flipper met flesh.

  “Want some comp’ny?” she asked. She squeezed one of her breasts and moaned in an unconvincing way.

  “Thank you, no,” Avery said. “I am, however, looking for the Hooded Monkey.”

  “The Monkey, now is it? Well, let’s see, can I remember where it is …” She let the silence linger leadingly, and he sighed and handed her a few dollars, even though he was certain in a town this small the place wouldn’t be hard to find. “Next level up,” she said, “and across the bridge.” She pointed to a building whose façade was painted a garish green. “That’s the one.”

  Avery nodded in thanks, found another ramp and ascended to the next level, then located the nearest, sturdiest plank bridge and crossed it. His stomach lurched as he felt the wood creak beneath him, and he glanced over the side to see dark, gurgling fluid rushing toward the dam. Something finned broke the surface, then vanished from sight. He moved on. As he reached the other side, four figures in robes bustled by, and he shrank back from them on reflex. They were priests of the Collossum. Shit, there must be a chapel here, too. Just how much of the Underneath had gone over to the R’loth?

  He hastened to the Hooded Monkey, pushed his way inside and peered around the shadow-draped interior. He eyed the bar and felt a surge of relief to see the person he expected to see there. The two made a pretence of not recognizing each other. There was no sign of General Hastur, however.

  A man approached him. The fellow was trim and fit, his hair short and his face business-like. Avery detected a military air about him.

  “Are you Francis Avery?”

  “I am.”

  “I’m an associate of … our friend. I’m to conduct you to her.”

  “We were supposed to meet here.”

  The man smiled grimly. “It wouldn’t actually do to give out a location where she’s going to be, would it? What if the wrong eyes or ears found the message? No. I’m to take you to the real location.”

  Avery’s gaze moved to the figure at the bar, who was frowning, probably unable to overhear their conversation.

  “Fine,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  “I’m Reynolds, by the way,” the fellow said as he led Avery out the door, down the platform and up another ramp. “Colonel Ashlan Reynolds, to be more precise.”

  “Ah.” It didn’t surprise him that Hastur wasn’t entirely alone. She must have made her escape with several of her highest officers. That was good, he thought. That would help. He looked over his shoulder as they went, hoping to spot the shape that had been by the bar, but the walkway was too narrow and the press of people too thick.

  Up here, this far from the river, the air smelled better, and the shops and eateries seemed much more appealing. The people who ran the establishments seemed to live on or near their businesses, he saw, noting several shacks sticking out of the commercial structures. Reynolds led him to the very edge of town to a tavern perched on the lip of the drop-off (or overlooking it, anyway), and a waiter seated them at a table abutting the railing that was all that separated them from the void. Below was the dam, roaring and spuming, and, just past it … nothing. The natural chasm the town bordered plunged down into a vast, deep well, though whether there was some body of water at the bottom of it Avery couldn’t tell. He could see no end to it, only blackness. When the waiter asked him if he would like a drink, he answered in the affirmative.

  “I’ll leave you to get comfortable while I fetch our friend,” Reynolds said and departed. Some minutes later the tall, spare form of General Tavelina Hastur (Avery easily recognized her from that day on the docks of Hissig when she had saved them from the Navy troops) entered the tavern, only she wore no fatigues this time but was dressed in rags and had even gone to the trouble of wearing make-up that gave her face the appearance of being scaled. Her rigid military bearing gave her away, though, and Avery doubted any of Sheridan’s agents would be fooled should they spot her.

  Avery stood to receive her, and the two took their seats and regarded each other in silence. A group of flails, flapping mucus, winged by the terrace in pursuit of some prey, and Avery sipped his drink. Neither of them seemed to know how to proceed, so he decided to be the first to open the dialogue:

  “So, fancy meeting like this, General—”

  “Please. Don’t use my name or rank. Call me Veronica.”

  “Very well, Veronica.” He glanced about. No one was sitting nearby, although the terrace was far from unoccupied—this seemed a popular destination—and there was no sign of the man from the previous bar. Hopefully he had followed them here and was just out of sight. “What are we going to do about Haggarty?”

  Hastur’s face, rawboned and freckled beneath her false scales, twisted into a scowl. “That bastard. I can’t believe one of our own betrayed us so villainously. He’d better hope I don’t get my hands on him.” She snorted. “As to what our next move is, I wish I knew. I have a few men and women with me, and they’re good people, but they’re not enough for me to launch any sort of attack.” She paused, and it was clear her next question was important: “How are you situated?”

  Avery nodded, as if he’d expected this, which of course he had. “Better than you might think,” he said, hoping this was true.

  “And you want to help me unseat Haggarty and restore Denaris?”

  The waiter arrived, took her order, and she fell silent until he returned. When he was gone, she took a sip, as if to fortify herself, and said, “If she can be found, yes.”

  “I think we should proceed under the assumption that Denaris—or should I say ‘our friend’—can be found,” he said. “Either way, Haggarty needs to be gotten rid of.”

  “I agree.”

  “I’ve heard that you still have many supporters in the Army. Is that true?”

  “It is.”

  “And that you could retake your old command under the right conditions.”

  “I’d need some muscle,” she said, without dissembling. “A show of force to rally my loyal troops. With that, I could lock up the traitors and lead the Army against Haggarty.” Her eyes glittered. “You said you were well situated. Does that mean what I think it does?”

  “What do you think it means?”

  “Obviously, that you have people you can call on. Soldiers, of one stripe or another.” Her eyes sent to the str
iations on his face. “If you’ll forgive the choice of words.”

  “As it happens, I just might.” He glanced about, and there, finally, was the figure he’d been looking for, and just at the proper time. He waved the man over.

  “What’s this?” Hastur said. She leapt to her feet, one hand going to the gun at her hip, hidden under a fold of her rags.

  Boss Vassas paused, his fishy face frowning. He wore a broad-brimmed that had been pulled low over his face and a long coat that trailed his ankles. Avery was glad to see the crime boss, and half surprised, too. Vassas had agreed to help him, but he hadn’t been sure that truly extended to venturing out, alone, to a town he didn’t control. He had arrived, as per the plan, ahead of Avery so as not to alert Hastur’s suspicions. Now, it seemed, they needn’t have bothered.

  “Please,” Avery told Hastur. “Don’t shoot him. You want muscle, he’s your muscle. Now I suggest we all sit down and talk about this like adults.” Other patrons had turned and were staring at them.

  Hastur glared at Vassas. Then she breathed out, removed her hand from her pistol and lowered herself to the chair. Vassas flexed his hands, as if to release his own tension, then dragged a chair to the table and perched.

  “Thank you for coming,” Avery told him, and Vassas nodded, saying nothing.

  “Who are you?” Hastur demanded. Her eyes had narrowed to slits.

  Vassas lit an alchemical cigarette and tipped his head to Avery, allowing the doctor to explain. The boss wouldn’t deign to elucidate the general himself.

  “Our new friend is a businessman,” Avery said, “and he runs, more or less, the nearby town of Muscud. He has many, er, employees that he can summon to his service.”

  Vassas grunted. His eyes flicked to the shadows of the tavern interior, and there Avery saw two men slouched at the bar, their tense faces watching Vassas and the table. One’s hands had gone inside his jacket at Hastur’s sudden movements, and the hand was just then emerging—empty. So, Avery thought. Not so alone, after all.

  “I believe some of his people made contact with you recently,” Avery added.

  General Hastur studied Vassas for a long moment, then Avery. At last she said, “You trust him?”

  At least as far as I can throw him. “Yes. Absolutely.”

  To Vassas, she said, “And you’re willing to help my cause? Restore Ghenisa to the way it was?”

  The underworld boss shrugged, and, for the first time since he’d arrived, spoke. “It’s either that or watch my home go the way of the Carathids, ain’t it? Place won’t be recognizable soon, top or bottom. If it were just the top …” He puffed on his cigarette; the flame glowed teal. “But it’s all of it, and I aim to help—if there’s a way. It’s got to be clean way, though. A way that works. I ain’t throwin’ my boys away on a lost cause.”

  “How many … employees … do you have?”

  “Say over a hundred. More, if I squeeze.”

  Avery held his breath. “Is that enough?”

  Hastur sat back. She seemed to be thinking about it. “Maybe. It would have to be a very targeted strike.”

  Vassas cleared his throat. “I ain’t doin’ this for free. There’s a price.”

  Avery swore inwardly. Vassas hadn’t mentioned this part.

  Hastur arched her thin eyebrows. “Yes?” Her voice dripped scorn. “And what is it?”

  “When the Treasury’s yours again, or yer PM’s, I want my slice.” He named a figure, and Avery forced himself not to flinch; it was a high number.

  The general’s face ticked. She seemed to want to snap at the mobster, but with visible effort she held herself back, and, after a long moment, she named another, far smaller figure. Vassas smiled. His teeth were sharp. The two bargained for several minutes and at last agreed upon a figure. Avery breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Well,” he said, clapping his hands together. “I think that’s decided then. Veronica, with your ability to access the inner workings of the military, we just need to show those loyal to you that you’re no helpless pariah. Our friend here can help instill order in the upper ranks while your people put down those loyal to Haggarty.”

  “I haven’t given up on finding the Prime Minister,” Hastur said. “I still think she’s our only real hope of maintaining order when it’s all done. I won’t make my move until she’s found.”

  “And if she’s found dead?” Vassas said.

  “We’ll deal with that if the time comes.”

  They spoke for a time, hashing out the details, and at last Hastur made her exit, having first ensured that the others knew how to contact her. Three shadows detached themselves from the periphery and flanked her as she vanished, all of them pretending not to notice each other. Despite their affectations of disrepute, all moved like seasoned military personnel.

  “They’d never make it as spies,” Vassas said.

  Avery started to agree, then considered. “Then again, I didn’t see them until just now, did you?”

  Before Vassas could answer, screams sounded. The two glanced at each other, then toward the source of the cries. Others around them were looking, too. More screams came, and Avery and Vassas rushed outside. The sounds were coming from one of the lower tiers. For a wild moment Avery feared General Hastur had been seized, but no, he saw her hastening away down the upper tier, her bodyguards looking over their shoulders and shoving their hands into their pockets.

  Vassas’s two men materialized, their hands likewise concealed, and one said, “What is it, Boss?”

  “Some local trouble.”

  More screams followed, along with cursing and shouting and general sounds of unrest.

  “We’d better go now,” Avery said, “before this turns into a riot, whatever it is.”

  The other three came with him down the nearest ramp, along the next tier for a ways to another ramp, then across a bridge toward the next nearest ramp after that. The press of people thickened around them, and many were stopping and pointing downward, or just looking. Avery paused, too, halfway over the bridge, and peered down. What he saw made his stomach lurch.

  On the second tier, priests in purple robes were dragging families out of a line of hovels. The victims were badly diseased and miserable-looking, of all ages, from small children (Avery thought one might have been among those he’d given coins to earlier) to an old, toothless woman. Some could barely walk, either due to age, infirmity or mutation. Some had to be dragged along, flopping and floundering. The priests, and there seemed to be about two score of them, were tying the people’s hands behind their backs and arranging them into groups, then herding them across a bridge to a large structure along the abyss. By the purple light streaming through its windows and the trident over its larger entranceway, Avery knew it to be a chapel to the Collossum.

  “Dear gods,” he said, “they’re collecting sacrifices in mass.”

  Vassas swore. “How many do they need? They must have fifty people down there! Why don’t the townsfolk stop ‘em?”

  Some were trying. The townspeople stood on bridges and at railings and in shop fronts, watching the priests as they gathered their victims. An angry crowd had formed on the second tier and were surging against the priests, but the clergymen fought them back. Aiding them in this were not less than a dozen soldiers of the Navy—Haggarty’s people. In their crisp uniforms, they fired over the townspeople’s heads, sending them back. When one woman hurled a rock at a soldier, he shot her in the head. The rest of the townsfolk muttered and wept but did not interfere. A few prayed and stroked tridents about their necks.

  Vassas was grinding his jaws so loudly that Avery could hear it. “Damn them,” he said. “Damn them all to hell, these fuckin’ priests. They think they can come into my world and pull this shit? Bad enough they take a few here and there, but in numbers like this?” He shook his head. In a lower, more dispirited voice he said, “Better not get like this in Muscud.”

  The soldiers scanned the crowd even as they held them back. A few b
ehind the front lines were holding up photographs and comparing them to the faces in the crowd.

  “They’re looking for us,” Avery realized. “For my friends and I—and the general, too. We’d better get moving.”

  “We should help those people,” said one of Vassas’s men.

  “Ain’t nothin’ we can do,” Vassas said. “Soon enough those poor bastards’ll be on the altar. But maybe … ‘cause of what we did today …” He didn’t finish the thought, as if not wanting to jinx it.

  With the others, Avery hurried down the next ramp, screams chasing him as he went.

  Chapter 6

  Vassas’s fears proved all too germane, and by the time he’d been in Muscud a week Avery had begun to think that coming there had been a terrible mistake. The terror gripping Givunct had spread to all corners of the Underground—spread, and deepened.

  He tried to tell himself that it would all work out. Yet, as songs from the Collossum church drifted over the town and through the grimy windows of the apartment, he felt fear twist in his guts, and he knew he was right to be afraid. Janx, who had been nearly vibrating with energy earlier, paced and swore, clenched-jawed, drinking bottle after bottle of beer to calm his nerves. By the sweat on his face, it didn’t seem to be working.

  Layanna stood at the window, too, on the opposite side from Avery, staring out into the darkness of the town with its streets swarming with activity, and he couldn’t read her thoughts. Perhaps, he imagined, this reminded her of home: hordes of devoted followers singing and sacrificing.

  Another scream rolled out.

  “Who are they sacrificing to, anyway?” Hildra said. With a glance around at the others, she added, timorously, “You don’t think ... don’t think the Collossum arrived, do you?”

  For a moment no one spoke, then Layanna, “I would have felt him this close. It’s more likely they’ve constructed an altar. I think I feel something from the church. A pulse. That’s probably what it is.”

  Hildra slouched at her table, a cigarette in her hand. “Wonder how Hildebrand is,” she said morosely.