Undersea (28 page)

Ralla was sure he looked interested. He had been lost in thought halfway through her speech about the Fountain, but she was sure he believed her.

“Where is this initial tower going to be built?”

“I’m not sure. I wasn’t briefed on that part of the project,” Ralla lied. He studied her for a moment, then nodded slowly. “We can contact my ship. They’ll fill you in on the details.”

Oppai jolted out of his daze.

“What do you mean? How can we contact your ship?”

“We can send a signal out on a frequency they’ll be monitoring. They’ll be able to send back whatever information you want.” Ralla tried to hide her enthusiasm. Could this really be the beginning of the peace between the two ships? She forced herself not to get too excited.

“What’s the frequency?”

“I’ll need to show you. I don’t know the name of the equipment but I’ll know it when I see it.” Also a lie, but it was a worth a try to get out of the cell.

“OK, but remember,” he said, tapping the gun more forcefully against the door.

They left the brig and wound their way up towards the front of the ship. The hallways were deserted. Even in the main concourse had only scattered foot traffic. Ralla tried to ask the Governor about it, but he paid no attention.

The bridge had a similar layout to the one on the
Uni
: Banks of computers with manned stations along the sides. Large wheels and levers made up the forward-most wall, with two young pilots driving the ship. Closer inspection revealed differences. Many screens were off or visibly damaged. Many of the working screens seemed several generations behind what currently outfitted the
Uni.
The center of the room held a large table, similar to what was on the
Uni
 bridge, but this one didn’t seem to have an embedded video display. What Ralla assumed was the Officer of the Watch saluted Oppai as they entered. Not seeing a Captain made Ralla wonder what time it was.

“OK, where is it?” the Governor said, motioning towards one of the communications terminals. She quickly located the one she needed and pointed to it.

“Set that at 24.8 and I can send a message.”

“We’ll send a recorded message, thank you. I’m not that stupid.” Headsets with microphones were scattered on the surface of the communications terminal. The crewman stationed there slid aside, allowing Oppai free reign over the equipment. “Here,” he said, handing her one of the headsets. “Record your message.”

Ralla took the set, and nodded that she was ready.

“
Universalis
, this is Councilwoman Ralla Gattley. I am being held prisoner onboard the
Population
.” The Officer of the Watch shot Oppai a glance but the Governor ignored him. “I have convinced Governor Oppai of our desire for peace. I have explained to him the outline of our Fountain project to show there is no longer a need for conflict and that our two peoples can finally join as one. He is interested, and would like to see more of our research. Please respond on this channel.” Ralla removed the headset and placed it on the table. “Now we wait.”

The crewmember reached awkwardly around Oppai to the terminal behind him. “Message encoded and ready for transmission,” he said.

“Go,” the Governor said immediately. “Make note of the time. I'm sure they're smart enough to delay their response, but you never know. Maybe they'll be stupid enough to give away their distance.”

It was almost two hours before they started receiving a response. Ralla had sat on the floor leaning against one of the several disused terminals and was nearly asleep. It was several more minutes before they had enough of the message buffered to start it. A pulse of excitement and surprise bolted through her as she heard Thom’s voice.

“
Population
, this is Commander Thom Vargas of the
Universalis
.” Commander? Ralla thought. “We are happy to hear that Councilwoman Gattley is alive, and would like to arrange for her release. We would like to assure you that the Fountain project is real. Data on said project will follow this transmission. We would be very interested in the prospect of peace, though final terms will have to be negotiated in person. We await your response.”

Lines of data slowly started to fill the screen closest to the transceiver.

“Peace indeed,” Oppai said.

Ralla uneasily got to her feet, not sure what to make of Oppai’s expression as he looked over the incoming data. After a few moments, the Governor placed on a headset and keyed the recorder.

“
Universalis
, this is Governor Oppai of the great ship
Population.
No terms of peace will be discussed. Any attempt to rescue Miss Gattley will result in her immediate execution. Any attack on this vessel will result in her immediate execution. We will continue our campaign of reclaiming our domes and facilities. We will not allow your doomsday weapon to be built. We will find out where you are building it, and after we destroy it we will destroy
you
.” Oppai made eye contact with Ralla. “Crewman, send when encoded.”

“Yes, sir.” There was pride in the man’s voice.

Ralla sunk back down to the floor in horror. Her own emotions had clouded her judgment. In her desire to make peace, she had completely misread Oppai. Again. Of course he wouldn’t negotiate. There was nothing to negotiate. He stood to lose everything, to gain nothing. Such was the shock, she barely noticed being dragged back to her cell.

“No way. The deal’s off,” Thom said as definitively as he could. They had just listened to the return message in the Council Chambers. Larr and Jills sat silently, watching him. Larr had just instructed him to be ready to leave with his fleet within the next 24 hours.

“Commander Vargas,” Larr said in his usual chilling tone. “There is no deal. You are an Officer in our fleet and will do as you’re instructed. We require you to use the ships at our disposal to distract the
Pop
while we ready the Fountain.”

“And the moment I do, they kill Ralla.”

“I don’t see how Councilwoman Gattley is any of your concern.”

“Don’t see... are you insane? He just said he’ll
kill her
if we attack.
I’ll be attacking
. How is that not exactly my concern?”

“There’s a bigger issue here, Thom,” Jills broke in, motioning for Larr to remain silent. “I understand you have a friendship with Miss Gattley. I understand that you feel responsible for her current situation.”

“I am responsible.”

“But the fact is, there’s a larger matter to address.”

“Yeah, yeah, your Fountain.”

“Not my Fountain, our Fountain. Every person on this ship and on the
Pop
’s
Fountain
.
This is about the future, Thom, and if Ralla were here, she would agree. We can’t let her life get in the way of the survival of our entire species.”

“I’m not an idiot.”

“I’m not saying you are.”

“No, you are. What you have to understand is that I’ve left her behind twice, and now you want me to kill her. How can I live with that? How do you expect me to live with that?”

“Command is hard choices, Mr. Vargas,” Larr said flatly.

“I agree,” Thom said, standing abruptly and leaving the room.

Maybe it was habit, or some deep repressed desire, but Thom walked in nearly a direct line to the bar. The hand painted sign “The Landing” seemed oddly inviting, homey. It seemed like it had been ages since he had been here last, but it was all the same. His friends were at the bar, well into their third round judging by the empty glasses. If they were upset he hadn’t talked to any of them in weeks, none showed it. Their welcome was warm and genuine.

After a few pats on the back, the time apart seemed forgotten. He settled down on a stool, watching the bartender slowly fill up a tall glass with foamy amber liquid. His friends jokingly pulled at his uniform, its fit and condition a sharp contrast to their own. The sound of the alcohol filling the glass was all he could hear. Around him his mates jostled each other in response to some story or joke he hadn’t heard. The other patrons in the bar did their usual best to ignore his little gang. The foam crested the top of the glass ever so slightly, and a finger sized portion started a long slow descent down the side of the glass. The light from the overheads caught the bubbles inside, making the beverage appear to glow.

Sliding back from his reverie, he saw that the glasses of his friends were all full, and they were looking to toast his return. He took the glass in his hand, the liquid inside chilling it. He caught a whiff from the constantly bursting tiny bubbles of foam.

“We heard you captured an enemy sub with a bunch of refugees on it,” Olly said with only a slight slur of his words.

“Did you kill any of them while you were over there? I heard they killed a bunch of people in our domes,” Yully said, looking for confirmation. He had gained some weight, mostly muscle on his small frame.

“Are you back for a while?” Hett asked, his beard now reduced to a mere line along his jaw. The questions seemed to come at once, or maybe hours apart.

“Come on, Thom, what’s next?”

The drink was almost to his lips, his eyes focused on the foam. Then he looked past the foam across the top of the glass at his friends. Wide-eyed and a little drunk, they were waiting for some response from him. It hadn’t even occurred to them he hadn’t said a word since he sat down.

And all at once, like a dream, he saw where he was. On a bar stool. In the bar. Below the Basket. On the
Uni
. In the ocean. On the world. In his mind he saw the world. The solid blue sphere hung in the black of space. Then, slowly, like in the graphic he had seen, the water started to peel away. As if the land below was tearing through, ripping the azure surface skin. The brown grew larger and larger. Soon entire continents marred the pristine blue surface with their turbid, waste-like, jagged forms. But then these too changed. The tawny scars of land succumbing to a new color. Green color. Randomly at first, then spreading and swarming recklessly, swaths of green reaching out with their tendrils of life over every continent.

His friends had gone silent and were looking at him quizzically. The glass poised so close to his lips, the smell of it in his nose. Then it started to move, gradually lowering back down to the bar. A bit of the foam spilling over the side and down over his thumb.

Thom stood, handing over enough credits to the bartender for a night of rounds for his slack-jawed friends. Thom started for the door.

“Thom?” Olly asked, all joviality gone. “Are you all right? Where are you going?”

“To kill her.”

IV

The bridge of the
Reappropriation
had changed since last he saw it. New equipment had replaced the inferior
Pop
-installed devices. There were other terminals squeezed into the corners for better monitoring of the other ships in the fleet. Six officers crowded the bridge, and over 150 elsewhere throughout manned weapons, engines, and any number of other vital systems.

Two squads of marines led by Soli and Lo had ready rooms near fast-fill locks on either side of the ship. Nearby were two sleek new short-range shuttles embedded in the hull. The exterior bristled with upgraded guns. Two dozen torpedo ports, their flat exterior doors masking the destruction held within, lined every side of the ship. In the stern, a small bay above the propellers held six mini-subs waiting for action. Docking clamps released, the
Reap
floated above the darkened, silt-covered
Universalis
.

Thom couldn’t see them, but saw on the monitors at the rear of the bridge the four corvette-class attack subs, six converted transports now highly armed torpedo boats, and a dozen mini-sub fighters all forming up with the
Reap
as it readied for its official maiden voyage. Every ship knew its assignment, every person on every ship knew the mission. All knew the risks. Thom had trained many of the pilots now spread out in the sea around him. Others came highly recommended. The first leg of their patrol was three straight days south. It would be a long haul for those in the minis, even with regular breaks docked aboard one of the larger subs. He motioned towards his comm officer.

“This is Commander Vargas. Our boards are green and we are ready to go.” He clicked the mic to mute for a moment. His impulse was to tell them what he was feeling. To let them share in his fear, his dread, his knowledge. But it didn’t seem right. They were all feeling that already—they didn’t need that from him. He turned the mic back on. “The importance of our mission, of our success, cannot be understated. No less than the lives of everyone on board the ship below us, and countless more in far away domes, are relying on us. But you know that. Let me tell you what I know. Our enemy is underequipped, under trained, and spread thin. But that doesn’t mean they won’t fight. We will be successful because of you. I know how hard you have trained, and I know how outstanding each of you is at the job you are doing. If I wasn’t so sure, trust that you wouldn’t be here to do it. We will approach each conflict with caution, but deliver with precision and might. We will hit them hard, and then retreat. My goal is to return to the
Universalis
with every one of you. That, above all, is our goal. We must do widespread damage, but our damage per location can be minor. We are the greatest fighting force ever assembled in this sea. History will write of us as heroes and warriors. Right now, we are just people. Let’s do our job, then celebrate with our feet on land, arms to the sky, backs to the sea.”

There was silence as he clicked off the mic. Then off in the distance, down the corridors, then on the bridge itself: applause. He closed his eyes and cringed as he thought of Ralla, and how proud she’d be of him at that moment.

“I’m sorry,” he said to her. Then to the pilot, “Take us out, ensign.”