Undersea (35 page)

After three weeks, they reached the e-zero line equidistant from n- and s-poles and spread out along it. The other, smaller, fleets sent by the
Uni
did the same around the world. They formed a blockade stretching around the waist of the planet, each sub separated by vast distances. Messages were relayed to the
Reap
over the following days: ships announcing they had taken position on the layer, external sensors deployed. In areas where it was deep enough to have a second thermal layer, specific ships with additional towed sensor arrays were positioned. Now, all they could do was wait. Wait for the inevitable noise of the massive ship
Population
screaming north, bent on destruction.

For the next week and a half, Thom barely left the bridge. His beard grew long, his hair ratty. Meals were brought to him. The central table’s screen had been fixed, but the protective glass surface still wore the cracks Thom’s body had created. Thom sat in his command chair, slept in the chair, and only left to use the head adjacent to the bridge. He watched the sensors. He watched the data relayed by the rest of the ships spread around the world, all now under his command. There was silence on the ship and silence in the sea.

His relentless vigil concerned his crew. Soli tried to break through his shell, but his efforts were lost. Thom had become a man obsessed. To the eyes of the men and women under his command, it was a tireless pursuit by their commander. His fixation troubled them, but inspired them. Word spread quickly throughout the fleet. A feeling of rigid determination replaced the anxiety of the wait. Quietly, the obsession spread. Their leader’s resolve pushed them, motivated them to be ever alert. Showed them all, without words, what was at stake.

As he sat, part of Thom’s brain registered the data, registered the sensors, registered the crew milling around him. Deeper, though, his mind was occupied by his real mission. No matter what happened in the next few weeks, he was going to rescue Ralla. Everything else was a distraction.

Eight days after they had taken up station at e-zero, a panicked message from a torpedo sub three days east relayed in. They had engaged the
Population
, and were fleeing north. Immediately, coordinates were spread to the entire fleet. A staging area was calculated far enough north that the majority of the fleet could assemble before the first attack on the enemy. Every ship in the fleet was faster than the
Pop
, even when it was running at full speed. Regardless, they were going to end up far closer to the
Uni
than anyone was comfortable. Thom stoically twirled his finger in the air, his operations officer understanding the silent order.

Far below, the powerful engines of the
Reap
, silent for over a week, began their long spool up. The sound rose gradually from low whine to fevered pitch, all their energies waiting to be unleashed on the sea.

Around the ship, the crew braced themselves. The ops officer watched his board light up green, then turned and nodded to Thom. Without glancing over, Thom pointed forward with the same fingers. The officer flipped a series of toggles, and instructing the techs in the engine room to throw the levers that engaged the propellers. The
Reap
launched forward as if struck, gathering speed like it never had before. Speed increased, faster and faster. Water forced aside by the bow rushed violently around the ship, the cavitations sounding like a waterfall crashing against the hull. Thom rose from his seat and gripped the table with both hands, glaring intently out at the blackness.

Ralla was sure the guards didn’t know what to do with them. Her team had finished the inner wall of the engine room, and as far as they could tell it was holding. The search had lasted about a week, the engine load and occasional violent turns a noticeable giveaway. Then they were off, the engines driving under maximum power. The guards would forget about them for a few days, leaving them all in their cells. Then they’d round them up and dump them in the engine room, but there was nothing to do. Some of the guards were visibly conflicted, though Ralla wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or a very bad thing. During the days in the engine room, Ralla and her crewmates rested or played games with homemade playing pieces. The expected retribution from Oppai hadn’t come. Yet.

She was in her cell when the explosions began reverberating angrily through the hull. For a moment, her excitement mixed with fear as she worried this was the final assault on the Fountain. But she thought better of it; there was no way the
Pop
was fast enough to be at the n-pole this quickly. This could only mean the
Uni
was launching a preemptive attack. It was time to act.

She started banging on her cell door like a woman possessed. With all the acting ability she could muster, Ralla screamed in terror and cried out for help. It didn’t take long before a guard appeared at her door. Her heart sank. It was young man who had picked up the illustrated novel weeks earlier. He seemed genuinely concerned. Ralla pretended to faint, crashing into the bed. The lock clicked and the door started to slide open. There was no hesitation. Ralla sprang on the man before the door was fully open. Surprise and fear gripped his face as Ralla placed the sharpened sliver of metal against the man’s throat. 

“I’m sorry. I truly am, but I need to go. Please take your sidearm and place it on the ground beside you.”

The young man cautiously did as asked. Ralla blindly reached for it, keeping her eyes on the guard, with her other hand poised to slice. The sidearm was heavy, an older projectile weapon like Oppai had used to shoot at her on the bridge. She rolled off the guard and pointed the sidearm at his chest.

“OK, get in the cell.”

“Please, miss, I’m not...”

“Shut up. Get in the cell,” she barked at him. Ralla felt sorry for him, but her resolve somehow stayed. The young man walked slowly back into the cell, and she shut the door behind him.

The main area of the brig was a round room, with a dozen cells around the circumference. Only one guard had been on duty at a time that she had seen. Her escorts to the engine room weren’t a part of the regular rotation, and with any luck they wouldn’t come looking for her anytime soon.

There were no other prisoners, but across a small passageway outside was another cell block, and here she found two of her team from down below. They were shocked to see her, and reluctant to leave.

“There have to be places you can hide on this ship. Go now, or stay in here to die. The ship’s under attack.”

They nodded reluctant agreement and scampered out of the brig and down the passageway without a word. They look so thin and fragile, Ralla thought, realizing she probably looked no better.

The brig exited onto a wide hallway, the utilitarian design attesting to its military origins. She had always gone right towards the elevators to get down to the engine room. There was little else that way, so she went left. The dull booming continued as weapons exploded near or against the hull. The lack of alarms or rushing crowds puzzled her.

Stairs brought her up and away from the main hallway, and a flexible connector tube put her into a carpeted, wallpapered, residential ship. Brass light fixtures shed warm light. The third door she tried was unlocked, the cabin empty. She locked the door and looked around.

The cabin was similar to those found throughout the
Uni
, and like the one she and Thom had showered in months earlier. This one, though, had age. Frayed carpet and sheets hung limply. Layers of dust implied years of vacancy. She sat on the bed and allowed herself a moment to think and relax. The weapons fire was less frequent, and had been growing more distant for several minutes.

The cabin had a shower unit, and, after a few minutes of dirty sputtering, clean hot water. There was even soap. She did her best to wash her hair, but it was a lost cause. Weeks of washing with no shampoo, and the constant grime from the work in the engine room, had conspired to knot her hair into a matted mess. When she was finished with her shower, invigorated and cleaner than she had been for months, she located scissors in the cabinet above the fold-down sink.

Without a second thought, she sheared her scalp. Her hair had grown long, longer than it had been in years. Despite that, she was elated to see it pile in the sink. Snip after snip, more of the visual representation of what Oppai had done to her left her body. It was freeing. She flushed the discarded evidence of the past few months down the toilet, and took a moment to see her new self in the mirror. The short blond fuzz made her look younger, yet meaner. Her cheeks were gaunt. She’d always despised their cherubic cuteness, and now her father's taught cheekbones had replaced them. She looked not underfed, but wiry. Tilting her shoulder down, she decided her scar was coming in nicely, not a blemish, but a trophy. As water dripped onto the floor, she saw the gun resting on the lid of the toilet. Into the mirror she smiled, delighting in the conspicuous menace.

Ralla stepped out of the bathroom in search of clothing. The closet had men’s and women’s jumpsuits, different shades of green and blue. It shocked her that two people could live in such a confined space. Both inhabitants were clearly much larger than Ralla. A belt and some rolling up of sleeves and pant legs helped, but anything more than a casual glance and it wouldn’t hold up. She looked like a little girl trying to fit into Daddy’s uniform. So be it. One solid sneer and the average person would probably shy away from making any comment.

She tucked the sidearm into one of the cavernous pockets of the dark blue suit and left. It had been less than half an hour since she had broken out of her cell.

Ralla had almost free reign of the ship. The few people that she saw were military, and all were preoccupied with getting ready for battle. The main shipyard was swarming with activity, and any hopes of sabotage there dashed quickly. The engine rooms were a similar story. There were additional guards posted at all the doors, something she hadn’t seen on any of her trips there before. She had no idea how to get to any of the various weapons bays, and while her costume was convincing, she didn’t want to push it.

So that left something more subtle, but potentially more damaging. What would be her worst fear given a saboteur on the
Uni
? Methodically, she went from lock to lock, crosshatch to crosshatch, watertight door to watertight door, and every one she was able to open, she opened, disabled, and jammed into place. With any luck, a few well-placed hits from the
Uni
would sink the
Population
for good.

Something, though, was nibbling at the back of her brain. It took most of the day before it finally congealed into a fully formed thought. As she braced herself against the floor to wedge a dislodged wallplate into the tracks of an exterior lock, she noticed how much the floor was vibrating. She had been on the ship long enough to tell when the engines were running hard, or when they were idle. Now though, as she placed her other hand on the deck to be sure, the whole ship vibrated more than she had ever felt. The engines were driving inordinately hard, well past the point of safety, she was sure.

The
Pop
arrived early. Impossibly early. More than half of Thom’s fleet was still spread across the entire hemisphere. The few ships he had available attacked, but it was a futile effort. The
Pop
blew past them as if they weren’t there. Thom issued a regroup order for the local ships, and a retreat order for the rest of the fleet. Best they make for the
Uni
than waste time coming here. By the time he got the
Reap
turned around the
Pop
had opened up a substantial lead. He ordered engines run past flank speed, but it had little effect. At this velocity, torpedoes were useless. At this distance, cannons were no better than knocking on the hull with a hammer. Even beyond emergency speed, the
Reap
gained on the
Pop
so slowly his techs couldn’t be sure they’d get back into weapons range before the
Pop
was in range of the
Uni.
Even if he could get closer, the power drain of the main guns would slow them back down out of range after a few shots.

This was a disaster. Nothing short of absolute failure. Thom took little consolation in the fact that there was no way to have known the
Pop
could maintain this sort of speed. He ordered the faster ships in the fleet to return to the
Uni
as quickly as they could. Sensor screens showed the smaller ships on his flanks start to pull ahead.

“She’s buttoned up tight, sir,” Thom sensor officer reported. “If they have any additional ships, they’re all still inside.”

“Send a report to the
Uni.
We have failed to engage the
Population
. Currently in pursuit. All attempts at disablement have failed. ETA, 36 hours.” Thom’s comm officer acknowledged and sent the message. That was it. All he could do now was sit in his chair and watch. Watch his one official task hang before him, untouchable and unstoppable. Watch his chance to rescue Ralla slip away. Watch the
Population,
a juggernaut of fear and anger and destruction.

But so close! He could take one of the scout subs. They would be easily fast enough to get him to the
Pop
and he could try to sneak aboard. He’d done it before. Even as he imagined it, he knew how foolish it was. No, for the moment his place was here, with his crew and his fleet.

They’d be ready, though, and he’d be ready. As soon as the
Pop
slowed down, he’d tear the back of that ship off.

If
it slowed down.

VIII

They had been expecting a response from the
Universalis
for hours. The prolonged silence turned out to be by design, as no sooner had they received and decoded the return message from the
Uni
than the great citysub showed up on the
Reap
’s sensor screens. The
Uni
had maneuvered into a parallel course with the
Pop
. Running as hard as the
Uni
was, the
Pop
was still gaining fast and coming up on their starboard side.