FANTASTIC PLANET v2.0 (10 page)

'Prudence
imposes a minimum
of half a stadia
.

But I've
just spoken about this with the engineers. They're worried the ships will not
bear up at one hundred stadia per hour.

'What's
Siwo's speed?'

in
this latitude: thirty stadia. But the rate doubles at the southern
confluence. Besides, the current is strewn with egg-islands. The hulls will
suffer. We'll have to reduce our own speed to fifteen stadia. Fifteen plus
sixty, we'll still do seventy five. But our speed will remain at fifteen
compared with the eggs. We'll break them as we'll pass them. If we go faster,
we'll end up breaking our hulls.'

Terr
frowned.

'What about
the prongs?' he said

The
quartermaster made a reassuring gesture.

'According
to the specialised headsets, the eggs will not hatch there, especially in this
season. The incubation is still not over.'

He pointed
to the map, in the middle of the seas tinged with red:

'This is
where the hatching begins, right by the equator. We're not heading that way.'

'What about
induced hatching?'

it's
rarely dangerous. Of course the prongs are
alive inside the eggs, but they die as they break.'

'I've heard
cases of survival.'

it's
very brief. They drown very quickly. Perhaps we
should mention it to Sav if you wish, Aedile.'

Terr rested
his hand on the telecable, hesitated and said:

'I'll go
find him myself.'

The
quartermaster saluted and climbed up the ladder leading to the gangway. Terr
went out to the corridor. He made his way to the lower deck, crossed the side
holds where Oms were checking the cables holding the cargo, and reached the
left hand side gangway. A few hundred steps led him to the living quarters. He
entered and was greeted fondly by everyone.

'Where's
Sav?' he asked.

'Third
room', someone said.

He went
through the crowd, dispensing here and there a friendly word or some
encouragement, warmly touching the shoulder of a female Om bent over with
nausea. In the third room he found Sav sitting in a corner, sprawled amongst
maps of the wild continent.

The
naturalist raised his greying head.

'Well, the
Aedile! Do you need me?'

'You don't
have to be so formal in private,' said Terr. I've come to speak to you of
prongs.

'Yes?'

'Are they
dangerous?'

'As dangerous as can be!'

Terr shook
his head:

is
it dangerous to induce explosions?'

Sav pinched
his nose.

‘It
depends', he said. 'They're too weak. Not as weak as premature Oms, however.
Due to their weight, their movements can be "heavy" in consequences.'

He winked,
commenting:

‘I know how
to pick the right words, eh!'

'You're very
funny!'

'Thank you.
As I was saying, according to the headsets a new born prong can move clumsily
as it dies. Last month a pillaging unit brought back some old headsets where I
picked up more information on the matter. Nine times out of ten there's no
danger.'

'What fun!'
said Terr. 'As we'll come across thousands of them, we'll only have a few
hundred hard blows. Don't you have anything reassuring to tell me?'

'Yes.
They're too young to swim and they yell very loudly as they sink.
Nothing to worry about, apparently.
The more they yell, the
faster they sink, you understand? But they really make a racket! Louder than
the sea! I can't wait to hear it!'

'I really
hope we'll not see it too closely. Do you know of a way of making them totally
harmless?'

Sav nodded.

'Yes. Go as
fast as possible. That's what the Traags used to do when they travelled on
small vessels.'

Terr sighed.

'Unfortunately
we can't do that, as the hulls will not hold. But... what did you just say? The
Traags themselves feared the baby prongs?'

'Of course!
It dates back to the old days
of navigation. At that time it was quite common for prongs to tie their
tentacles around the propellers. They could easily destroy a ship before dying.
Even if it got away, with its damaged propeller it risked going in circles for
months in the Siwo before smashing into the Ambala reefs. Ray weapons didn't
exist then, and bullets bounced off the prongs and didn't finish them off fast
enough to avoid accidents. But as I said to you before, that sort of thing was
rare. The Traags went full speed ahead and burst all the eggs before the prongs
had time to cause any damage.'

Terr got
hold of Sav by the sleeve.

'And you're
telling me all this now!'

'You never
asked me!' protested the naturalist. 'You told me through Char to focus on
studying the wild continent's fauna and flora! I assumed you knew all that and
had taken all the necessary precautions.'

Terr let go
of him and shook his head:

'You're
right', he said, 'it's my fault. I couldn't imagine... it's my fault.'

'We have
weapons!' suggested Sav.

'Using them
is impossible. We'd need to mount them on the hull and...
it's
too late.'

'Avoid the
Siwo.'

impossible
too. The trip is planned to
last a fixed time. Not going through the Siwo will cost us two days. And the
reactors must be maintained every ten thousands stadia.'

'Then I see
just one solution: travelling underwater.'

'We'll never
hold out that long underwater.'

'I mean dive
as often as we can.'

'And lose
time', Terr whispered slowly. 'I'll have a word with the quartermasters. We'll
see.'

He made as
if to go but then turned around.

'How heavy
is a new born prong?'

'Ten to fifteen thousand weights.'

'As much as
the three vessels', Terr sighed. 'Thanks, Sav.'

All the
ship's bells rang suddenly. Terr sprang up, went through the three rooms and
pounced on the gangway telebox.

'The Aedile
here!' he screamed. 'What's happening, quartermaster?'

'Traag
bubble to the south!' the officer announced. 'We're diving, all lights out. I
don't think it spotted us.'

'What about
the others?'

'All good!
Vessel 3 is following us. The
cables are holding up. We're slowing down to five stadia.'

Twenty long
hours later, a grubby dawn rose above the water. The wine coloured sea was
split from east to west by a lustrous current: The Siwo.

The three
ships were travelling in convoy,
half a stadia away from each
other
. All around them, flying fish were leaping from golden crests to
crimson troughs. They were glistening on the sea like sequins on a coat's
folds. Some occasionally fell on one of the ships' dark deck and jumped about
before getting thrown off by the next roll.

An hour
later, the first prong egg could be seen, like a greenish rounded hill waddling
in the waves. It was avoided easily. It twirled around for a long time in the
ships' wake before disappearing in the distance.

But two
giant balls could already be seen looming on the horizon. Travelling at thirty
stadia, the vessels soon caught up with them. Vessel 1 had to tread a delicate
path between them.

Then there
were groups of five, seven, fifteen eggs which had to be avoided. Time was
being wasted. When the sea was covered in them, Terr, his heart aching, gave
the order to increase the speed and go straight ahead.

All excited,
Sav had asked to be authorised to climb on the gangway. Five Oms were already
there: the Aedile, the quartermaster, the under quartermaster, the helmsman,
and the telebox operator sitting in a corner. As the three ships had split up,
wireless communication had to be used, using a code.

The
naturalist took up a position out of the way, his hands holding tight on the
guardrail and his eyes wide open.

The first
egg was not rammed. It rolled along the hull in a thunderous noise. The second
one collided head on and burst on the bow spurting out a greenish liquid which
spattered the gangway's window. The Oms felt like they were going through a
marmalade jar.

Going into
a nose-dive
in a trough, as if it was shaking itself, the
ship washed off the viscous trails spilled across the deck and attacked another
egg. With a terrifying creak, it poured its cream into the waves. Flabby pieces
swept along both sides, mixed with orange embryonic organs.

Sav looked
at the Aedile, smiling.

'So far so
good', he said. 'These eggs are still very young. In an hour or two we may well
come across slightly stronger prongs.'

Terr said
curtly:

‘It seems
this makes you happy, Sav!'

The
naturalist took refuge behind a sheepish expression.

'Not at
all!' he said awkwardly.

But the
glint in his eyes betrayed his words.

The deck was
boiling with spilled acids which were quickly swept off by the waves. From time
to time the two other ships could be seen to the right and to the left. They
were gaily smashing into the balls blocking their way. The telebox brought only
good news on their behalf. It all seemed easy and without danger.
At first the Oms tookvulgar sporting pleasure in smashing up the
obstacles.
Then, accustomed to the racket and reassured as to the hulls'
relative solidity, they began to find this strange navigation somewhat
monotonous.

The
explosions carried on. It even seemed like they were more and more successful.
Some eggs exploded like bombs, with a deafening artillery din. Some seemed to
deflate like balloons. Others saw their shells flying off in the distance and
bouncing off the waves.

'Gases!'
said Sav.
it
must really stink outside!'

Terr looked
at him:

'What,
gases?'

'Yes',
confirmed the naturalist. 'These eggs are loaded with gases caused by the acid
on the inside of the shell. They are nearer to natural hatching. Here!'

He pointed
at the deck. A torn-off piece of greenish convolutions was beating in spasms as
it was being swept off.

'That was a
heart', said Sav, 'already formed! Each prong has five of them.'

'Five hearts?'

'Yes, and
two livers, just
like
the Traags.'

A gigantic
egg appeared like a thunderbolt. Hoisted by a wave as the ship was dipping its
head, it crashed on the gangway's cover, discharging a coating of bluish liquid
which blocked all visibility.

The
quartermaster gave the order to dive to get rid of the refuse spattering the
windows.

As it surfaced,
the ship rammed another sphere. Strips of membranes where floating like wet
linen on the gangway's cover. But the ship managed to sail into the open waters
and was heading for another shoal of eggs looming in the distance.

The telebox
operator passed a note to the quartermaster who read it to the Aedile: Vessel 3
indicated some damage. Thrown off balance by the blows, two heavy induction
coils had broken their straps and damaged the installation as they fell.

'Ask how
long it will take them to repair it', ordered Terr.

The reply
came quickly:

'Thirty
minutes!'

Terr scanned
the horizon filled with round mounds. He raised an eyebrow towards the
quartermaster.

'We'll reach
it in twenty minutes', the officer estimated.

'Switch off
the engines!' ordered the Aedile. 'Give the same order to the other ships.'

Some eggs
were exploding far away to the left. Ship 2 and 3 soon neared the Aedile's
vessel which was still drifting along. A giant egg was spinning in its wake.
Its polished shell soaked by spray reflected the tormented sky.

As vessel 2
passed by, the egg toppled over in a swirl and headed straight for vessel 3.
The ship did not try to avoid it. A cracking sound was heard and the Oms saw
their first living prong!

The
spectacle's enormity caused its phases to slow down. Like in a dream, a long
crack opened up along the outside of the shell. The ship disappeared under a
flow of hazardous secretions. Like a devil out of a box, a greenish being
appeared to stand up in the lower part of the egg as if in a gondola. The prong
looked as if it was standing on the sea, its newly born eyes half closed. Its
parched face was enormous and adorned with tufts of tentacles at the corner of
its mouth. The comical site of this bouncing baby sporting a moustache and
balancing on a wave gave way to its cry.