Twenty Trillion Leagues Under the Sea (35 page)

Impossible to gauge the passing of time.

Consciousness returned, or a hazy approximation of it, once more; Lebret was aware of Jhutti pressing a soaking piece of cloth to his mouth, to enable him to drink.

‘Monsieur Jhutti,’ he croaked, in a faint voice.

‘Monsieur Lebret,’ returned the scientist. ‘You are still alive, at any rate.’

‘Not for long, I fear!’ He coughed, and shivered, and then managed a smile. ‘It seems stupid for me to survive all I have survived, only to die of a child’s fever like this!’

‘Can death ever be anything except stupid?’ Jhutti wondered.

Lebret lay for a while. The white walls of the chamber hurt his eyes, so he closed them. ‘How is Dakkar?’

‘The monster-man? The hydrocephalic fellow?’

‘He is human, Monsieur, and one of your countrymen too. But he has been … altered.’

‘Billiard-Fanon wanted to kill him,’ Jhutti reported. ‘I think I dissuaded him. He has gone mad, I’m afraid – the ensign, I mean. Religious mania. And anyway, we stand no chance of killing the large-head fellow, now; for I fear he is already dead. He is not breathing, at any rate.’

Lebret twitched and opened his eyes. ‘Dead? A great shame. He was Prince Dakkar, once.’

‘I have heard of him,’ Jhutti said, wonderingly. ‘Although I thought him a fictional creation.’

‘Fictions
have
been written, based upon him,’ Lebret said. ‘But he is the authentic figure at those fictions’ heart. Or – he was. Did he say nothing? Did he tell you nothing, before he passed?’

‘He said a few things. Most of it was hard to follow. Billiard-Fanon baptised him! Crazy.’

‘What did Dakkar say though? It may be important.’

‘He told us to repair the
Plongeur
, and go back the way we came. He said we were in terrible danger from the Great Jewel. Whatever that means. Billiard-Fanon told him he was a devil. That was about the extent of our conversational exchange.’

Lebret was silent for a while. He could feel his own blood scraping along his arteries and veins. It was hard to breathe. ‘Is Ghatwala … ?’ he asked.

‘Dead, I’m afraid,’ said Jhutti.

‘And Boucher? What about Le Petomain?’

‘Boucher is still alive; but his mind has gone. I don’t know how long he will last aboard the
Plongeur
, unattended. As for Le Petomain …’ Jhutti concluded the sentence with a shake of his head.

The two of them were silent for a while. In the corner, a gentle bee-buzz hummed louder, softer. It took Lebret’s hot, muddle brain a while to realise that this noise was Billiard-Fanon snoring.

‘I’m sorry, Amanpreet,’ Lebret whispered, shortly. ‘I’m sorry, truly I am. Ghatwala and I
did
conspire together. Perhaps we should have trusted you. Dilraj fitted a secondary system to the main machinery of the
Plongeur
, cunning camouflaged. We used it to direct the vessel down here, without the knowledge or consent of her captain or crew. We could not trust them. Perhaps we should have trusted you. We acted, as we thought, for the greater good.’

Jhutti was leaning as close to Lebret’s mouth as he could. ‘I’m afraid I can only understand some of what you say,’ he said.

‘Beware the Jewel,’ Lebret said, and closed his eyes.

He did not open them again.

Billiard-Fanon woke, declared himself enormously refreshed by his nap, and plunged his head through the bubble of water. ‘I am hungry,’ he announced. ‘Jhutti! Wake up Lebret, there. He promised us food! Let him tell us where the food is.’

‘Monsieur Lebret will never wake again, I fear,’ Jhutti reported.

‘Oh!’ Billiard-Fanon sounded surprised. ‘So he
was
unworthy, after all! God’s test is severe.’

‘Indeed,’ agreed Jhutti, distantly.

‘Only we two remain. Of the entire crew!’

‘You discount the lieutenant, aboard the
Plongeur
?’

‘Poor mad Lieutenant Boucher!’ laughed Billiard-Fanon. ‘Shall we use the magic speaking slate to address him? But I cannot think he would welcome our conversation. What would we say? Tell him to swim to us? The devils would devour him.’

‘They did not eat us,’ Jhutti observed.

‘Ah, but God has plans for
us
,’ Billiard-Fanon said, in a conspiratorial voice. ‘I suggest we search this place. Perhaps Lebret was lying about the food, but then again, perhaps there
are
hidden drawers and cupboards filled with cakes and ale, eh?’

The two men floated up and down the walls of the chamber. Jhutti moved the bodies of Dakkar and Lebret to one side, as respectfully as he could; Billiard-Fanon occupied himself with slapping and knocking the sides of the room.

‘Nothing!’ he said. ‘What’s this?’ He picked up the tattered remains of Lebret’s diving suit, and shook it. A clutch of grey-white strands spilled out and floated through the air. ‘Snakes!’ Billiard-Fanon yelped, throwing the suit from him. ‘I shall crush their heads, lest they bruise my heel!’

Jhutti caught one of the filaments as it floated towards him, like limp spaghetti. ‘These are no snakes,’ he said, scornfully. ‘I cannot tell
what
they are – some kind of seaweed, perhaps?’

‘Edible?’ asked Billiard-Fanon, eyeing the spread of spilled strands.

‘Be my guest and try,’ said Jhutti.

But Billiard-Fanon’s attention had already moved on. He returned to the bulge of water, and thrust his head through it. After a while he came back for air.

‘There is another chamber in there,’ he announced. ‘Flooded, of course, but perhaps containing food. You must dive into it, and have a look about.’

‘And I say
you
must,’ retorted Jhutti. ‘At any rate, I choose not to.’

Lebret eyed him, but did not become angry. ‘God has chosen we two,’ he told him. ‘I do not pretend to know why he chose you, a pagan. But though I
am
the Holy One, and exalted, even in these impossible depths, yet I do not presume to question His providence. But I do say this:
we must get along
.’

Jhutti did not reply.

‘At any rate,’ said Billiard-Fanon, having toured the room again. ‘The water is potable. A body can live for a long time on water and no food – Christ managed forty days and forty nights. Perhaps God wishes us to fast, in imitation of Jesus.’

‘I thought God spoke to you directly,’ Jhutti said.

‘He does,’ Billiard-Fanon returned, immediately, his eyes flashing. ‘But he has not communicated with me on
this
matter. Are they both dead? Lebret, and the big-head monster? I mean, not in a coma, or anything like that?’

‘I’m afraid so,’ Jhutti replied. He went over to the bodies, and felt for Lebret’s pulse at his neck. ‘Nothing.’ Conquering his revulsion, he did the same with Dakkar’s neck. ‘Both dead.’

‘Well we must dispose of them, or they shall go bad. Shall we carry the bodies up the corridor, and pitch them topside?’

‘If we do,’ Jhutti noted, ‘then those terrible fish will devour them.’

Billiard-Fanon shook his head. ‘Too terrible. They deserve better. Let us put them out of our sight, into the lower chamber.’

‘But will that not poison our water supply?’

‘We can draw water from above
or
below,’ Billiard-Fanon noted.
‘This way, although we must drink from above, we can at least ensure those devils do not desecrate their corpses.’

‘What if,’ Jhutti asked, ‘the lower chamber connects directly to open water? What, then, is to stop the devil-fish from swimming round and devouring the corpses anyway?’

‘I had not thought of that,’ Billiard-Fanon conceded. ‘Well, in that case it hardly matters
which
exit we use to dispose of the bodies. Come! Let us put them both below, and I shall say a prayer.’

The truth was that Jhutti cared little, either way. The succession of bizarre events had worn away his grip on reality as a solid quantity. He helped Billiard-Fanon push first Dakkar and then Lebret through, and kicked them both away. Then, for the sake of cleanness, he rounded up all the loose, dead strands of – of whatever they were. These also he thrust into the lower chamber.

‘Now,’ said Billiard-Fanon. ‘We shall see how God intends to deliver us from this place.’

Jhutti looked at his companion. There was no trust in his look.

30

THE TETRAGRAMMATON

Billiard-Fanon first prayed silently to himself; then he repeated the Lord’s Prayer in a loud voice. Finally he insisted that Jhutti join him. Jhutti declined. ‘My religious beliefs are not yours,’ he noted, in a level voice.

‘All that has been overturned!’ Billiard-Fanon insisted. ‘Surely, after all you have seen down here, having passed through this entire damnable dimension – surely after all that, you don’t cling still to your paganism?’

‘My religion is my own affair,’ Jhutti repeated. ‘But I will say that calling me
pagan
is offensive.’

‘All offence is dissolved in the Lord Christ!’ replied Billiard-Fanon, with a giggle. ‘Come! I shall teach you the Lord’s prayer, and in reciting it you will prise open your oyster heart.’

‘No, thank you.’

‘I insist!’ said Billiard-Fanon. He reached inside his own shirt, and brought out a small oilcloth bag. ‘Here!’

‘Does that bag contain your prayer?’ Jhutti asked.

‘In a manner of speaking,’ said Billiard-Fanon. Untying the end, he brought out a pistol. ‘Here!’ he cried, joyfully. ‘The staff of Moses! Dry as a bone! Although is that not a strange idiom? For your bones, and mine, are never dry, washed continually by blood and lymph as they are!’ He weighed in the weapon in his hand, and then pointed it at Jhutti.

Jhutti was almost too exhausted even to be scared. ‘What now?’ he asked. ‘Will you shoot me too?’

‘You know I will not hesitate,’ Billiard-Fanon said, smiling strangely. ‘You know I possess the strength of will to pull this trigger, and end your life?’

Jhutti nodded.

‘Then, repeat after me:
Our Father, who art in heaven
.’

Jhutti looked at the barrel and then at Billiard-Fanon’s gleaming face. He could repeat the words, of course; it would mean nothing. And defiance would serve no nobler purpose. But something in him refused to do as he was instructed. He shook his head.

Billiard-Fanon’s expression hardened. ‘Say the words,’ he ordered. ‘Say them, or displease me. You do not wish to see the displeasure of the Holy One!’

‘I do not wish to see the Holy One at all,’ said Jhutti.

For a moment Billiard-Fanon’s look was that of a hurt child. He dropped the pistol to his side, as if rebuked. But then his eyes narrowed. ‘I shall better be able to worship the almighty Tetragrammaton without you here,’ he announced. ‘JHWH has chosen me, and me alone. That much is clear.’

He raised the gun again, and pulled the trigger. There was a monstrous detonation, ear-hurting. Jhutti flinched. He couldn’t help it. But the bullet did not strike him. There was a faint hum in the air, as if (perhaps) it had scudded close to his ear – although Billiard-Fanon had been aiming at his chest.

Jhutti opened his eyes. A huge shape, geometrically precise, sharp-edged, blue-green in colour, had interposed between himself and Billiard-Fanon. It was a moment before Jhutti understood that it had manifested just in time, and presumably therefore
in order
, to block the trajectory of the bullet.

‘God, God, God, God!’ howled Billiard-Fanon, throwing the weapon aside. ‘You appear to me! I
am
the new Moses!’

The shape was a pyramid, comprising four equilateral triangles, each joined to all the others. A voice emerged from the jewel-shape, ‘You are Amanpreet Jhutti?’

‘No!’ yelped Billiard-Fanon. ‘Not him –
me
! I am the one elevated by your grace, even in the deepest of depths, in order to …’

‘I have no interest in
you
,’ said the Jewel. Its voice had a weird flatness of pronunciation, although it spoke French fluently enough. There was a distant, chime-like underlay to the sound. ‘Amanpreet Jhutti, you are expert in the engineering of nuclear power?’

‘Yes?’ Jhutti replied, his heart suddenly running-on-the-spot inside his chest. ‘What? What do you want?’