Undersea (29 page)

For what must have been the first week, Ralla barely left the cot. She was so ashamed of what she had done, she couldn’t bring herself to eat or even move. Sometime during the second week, there were brief flashes of realization that she had to do what she had done. That anyone would have jumped at the chance to bring peace. But these flashes were just that, and within moments the depression would settle back in, knowing what she had cost her people.

At least she thought it was her second week in this cell. That was just a hazy guess, though. Every surface she tried to mark to indicate days had been too hard to mar. Eventually she tore the sheets, but they had changed them twice since she had been there. If the constant darkness at first had hampered her perception of time, the constant light now completely destroyed it. But two weeks felt right somehow.

The guards rotated often. To her surprise, one of the guards had slid a book into her cell. It was old, bound, and seemed to be real paper. The cover crackled when she opened it. It must have been a family heirloom. While she would have rather just slept, this was clearly important to someone, and she treated it with the respect it deserved. She finished it quickly. It was a fairly mediocre story about time travelling adventurers causing havoc during famous moments in history. Not something she would have normally read, but it did take her mind off things.

She kept the book hidden when guards opened her door to leave food. After several days (weeks? hours?) one guard—a middle-aged woman with long braided hair and a particularly mean grimace—came in with food and took the sheets off the bed. She tossed them outside, then flipped the thin mattress cushion over. Ralla had hidden the book under her clothes. The guard seemed to have figured this out as she came over and brusquely grabbed at her. Book found, she stormed out of the cell. But as the door shut, there was a brief moment of eye contact where the guard looked down at the book in her hand, then at Ralla, and flashed a kind smile. Another book appeared under her food tray a few days later, this time an illustrated short novel. A different guard picked that up a few days later, a nervous young man with short hair.

To fill time, Ralla remembered a trick her father had told her about from when he was in the war. After a particularly bad battle, his sub had become damaged and crashed into the seabed. Trapped in the cockpit with no power and few rations, he could do nothing but watch the battle unfold and hope for rescue. It took three days. To stave off boredom, the elder Gattley had imagined himself walking through the ship. Every hallway, every cabin he had seen. From the textures of the walls to the conditions of the carpet, he walked around and around in his mind.

Ralla started doing the same the best she could. She pictured herself on the floor of the Yard, her favorite place on the ship. The thick soft grass cradling her like a living bed of green. The picosun providing the light of midday. Beside her lay Thom, and suddenly it was no longer a thought exercise but a memory. They had been walking after a great meal of words and vegetables. She had just said something that had made him mad. They laid in silence for minutes before he spoke.

“I don’t know why you think I’m some kind of leader. That’s not me. That’s you.”

His compliment caught her off guard, and it took her a moment to respond.

“I’m flattered, but I’m not much of a leader either. My dad is, for sure, but I’m just stepping into his shoes. When the time comes for a real election, we’ll see what the District thinks.”

“Well, I’d vote for you.”

“Then maybe we’ll just have to move you forward so you can be in my District.”

They laughed lightly and awkwardly, both reading into her statement more than she had said. After the silence that followed, he said something even sweeter.

“Seriously, I trust your instincts. I’ve seen what you can pull together in the past few months. You’re a natural at this. I wish I had half the brains you do.”

She reached over and gave his arm a squeeze.

The grayish decayed cell slid back in around her, and like that, she got over herself. Had her father been there, or Proctor Jills, it’d be a tough case to say they wouldn’t have done the same thing she had. Oppai was a charmer and a fantastic liar. Maybe they would have seen through his ruse, but probably not.

In her mind she thanked Thom for being his usual supporting self, even if he was a hemi away.

With renewed vigor, Ralla rolled out of bed and stood in the middle of her cell and began a new daily routine. First she exercised. Then she meditated on possible scenarios. She was still biding her time. But now it was with a purpose.

Running silent didn’t mean they had to actually remain silent on board the ships, but often they did. Normal procedure was to cruise quietly along the edge of a thermal layer. The
Reap
towed an arrow-shaped sensor device that sank below or floated above the layer, relaying data to the techs on board. If an enemy craft was detected by it or one of the minisubs at the edges of the fleet, the information was relayed by laser to all the other ships. Instructions were given to stop, descend, or rise depending on how close the ship was, and where. But so far they had gone undetected.

Their first target was a mining dome the
Pop
had set up recently. It had been discovered by accident by a scouting ship looking for new mining locations for the
Uni
. It was tiny dome, without much room for personnel. A convoy of transports arrived every week, and departed within 12 hours. If their timing was right, the
Reap
and the fleet should arrive just before the convoy arrived.

The stealthy minis, not much larger than their single pilot occupants, ducked below the layer to have a peek. They reappeared above the layer a few minutes later to report the convoy was already docked, and seemed to be making preparations to leave.

Thom looked around the bridge at his crew. They waited for his instructions. As he knew they would, his thoughts went to Ralla. Knowing she would want him to do what he was about to do gave no comfort. He apologized to her again in his head.

“All craft, report status,” he said. The comm officer relayed the message. In the close quarters of the bridge, he could hear each craft in the fleet respond through the officer’s headphones.

“All craft report green boards and are ready for combat.”

“Fleet to Combat One. Begin descent and attack on my orders.”

Around him his crew busied themselves at their consoles, relaying orders and modifying aspects of the ship. After a few moments, he received a nod from his second in command.

“Go,” Thom barked.

He felt the
Reap
lurch as water was taken into its ballast tanks. Out the viewscreen, the few craft of the fleet he could see in the dim light started to descend. The small fighter craft, with their smaller ballast tanks, were pivoting vertical to gather speed as they launched the first wave.

The
Reap
passed the invisible thermal layer and suddenly the sensor screens lit up with the activity and noise from the dome below. There were a few patrol craft lazily making their rounds within sight of the dome. The convoy—really just a series of transport subs linked together—had just set off. The clear dome lit up the surrounding seafloor with an amber glare.

The patrol craft took far too long to realize what was happening, and were disabled by the fast-diving minis before they had a chance to react. The transport did what any poorly trained crew would do. They sped up, futilely trying to escape. All this did was dramatically increase their signature on the sensors. The transport sub in the lead, the only one with a crew, labored against its heavy train of ore-laden trailers. After a moment they detached themselves, rocketing forward, the instant removal of mass increasing the engine’s effectiveness tenfold. Two of Thom’s corvettes had entered the fray at the point, sending out grapples, and started towing the ore train back towards the
Reap
.

The transport hadn’t gotten far before it was pounced on by two more minis. The engines were knocked out first, and the sub slowly came to a stop.

“Assault teams. Go,” Thom said, watching the action on the sensor monitors. Thom could feel the
Reap
shudder slightly, its buoyancy changing as the two shuttles detached from the hull, diving rapidly towards the dome below. Cameras along the keel zoomed in on the action, and Thom watched as the heavily armed assault teams subdued the staff of the dome. His assault teams went about systematically destroying every piece of equipment they could find. The staff was herded into the small lifeboat attached to the top of the living quarters. Thom didn’t see it happen, but knew the plan was for charges to be thrown down the open mine shaft, while others were sent down the conveyor belt deep into the mine.

It was all over in minutes. Soli signaled that he and his team were returning. There had been little to salvage. No sooner had the shuttles detached and started their return than flashes of explosions could be seen from the center of the dome. Water burst up from underneath the equipment, flooding the dome to at least waist height. The lights flickered out, cloaking the event in darkness. All that remained were the small emergency lights on the lifeboat, trapped inside a partially flooded dome. Thom had the comm officer send the recall command, and the ships formed up and rose away from the ruin they had caused. Around him his crew seemed elated. He wished he could have shared their joy.

Ten minutes later, it was like they were never there. The fleet ascended above the thermal layer and set out for their next target. With his second in command in charge of the bridge, and by extension the fleet, Thom headed down towards the back of the ship. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to the constricted corridors of the
Reap
. Two people had to turn sideways to pass each other. Worse, wallplates were still missing in places, leaving exposed tangles of pipes and wires that threatened to snag, burn, or electrocute anyone who traversed the hallway. He got to the ready room where Soli and Lo’s teams were stowing their gear. Soli hopped on one foot as he struggled to remove one of his boots. Thom offered a hand of support, Soli took a shoulder.

“I take it everything went OK?” he asked the marine.

“No resistance.”

“None?”

“None. We walked in and everyone immediately put down their tools and whatnot and sat on the ground.”

“That’s it?”

“They looked pretty ragged, to be honest. When we put them all in the lifeboat, they looked...”

“Scared?”

“No. Disappointed.”

“What?”

“Wait a sec. Lo, come here. Tell the Commander what you told me.”

Lo was combing his hair, having already put on his civilian clothes. He wove his way between the rest of the dressing/undressing marines, his grace belying his mass.

“The management guy?” he asked Soli. The other marine nodded. “There was this one guy, seemed more like the manager of the place than one of the workers. He was watching over everyone as we rounded them up. Not in a bad way, kind of like how parents do with their kids, you know? He asked to be the last one in and when it was just him outside the lifeboat, he asked me if we had any food.”

“For him?” Thom asked.

“I don’t think so. It seemed like he was asking for his whole crew. It was really weird.”

“Did you give him anything?” Thom asked. The marines looked at each other awkwardly.

“We gave them what rations we had,” Lo answered almost sheepishly. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”

Thom stood silently for a moment, and the marines grew concerned.

“Look, if it’s a problem, next time...” Soli began.

“Next time
is
the problem.” Thom replied. “You absolutely did the right thing. On the next run, if the same thing happens, let me know. After everyone is subdued and the place is clear, I think we can spare a few minutes to find out what’s going on.”

“What do you think?” Lo asked. Thom noticed the rest of the marines had stopped and were listening in on the conversation. Thom changed his tone and spoke to them all.

“When Ralla and I were on the
Pop
the people we met were very friendly. A real close-knit group. Closer, I’d say, than we are on the
Uni.
Many of them just had this blind hatred of us. No doubt spurred on by their leader. But now I wonder if there’s a few cracks in that hull. Above all, protect yourselves and your squadmates. But do your best to treat the
Pop
civilians as well as possible. I’ll see about having the cooks siphon off some of our supplies, even if it means we have to RTB a few weeks early for resupply. For the good we’ll be spreading, I think it will be worth it.”

“Got it,” Soli replied.

“Make sure all your men are running on the same layer.”

“Don’t worry. We were all talking about it on the way back. To be honest, we’re kind of freaked out about the whole thing. It’s not like we’re going after soldiers here.”

“Understood. Thank you, gentlemen.”

“Commander,” they said in unison. Thom uncomfortably returned their salute.

V

The cell door slammed open, but Ralla was already awake, so the dramatic effect was wasted. Oppai’s entrance, however, did surprise her. He was fuming. Ralla, having been meditating on her bed, leaned forward to peer out the door at the guards. They looked terrified. Not good.

“Get up!” Oppai barked. Ralla unfolded her legs and did as instructed. The Governor grabbed her arm abruptly and marched her out of the cell and up through the corridors of the ship. She’d been given an ill-fitting jumpsuit after repeatedly complaining about the rankness of her clothing. She kept tripping on the pant legs, causing Oppai to yank her along impatiently. The guards outside the Governor’s cabin opened the doors for them, but Oppai froze unexpectedly as they entered. It wasn’t until she peered around him that she saw why. There were a dozen men in normal clothing clustered in front of the wood conference table. They turned to look at Oppai, but their eyes slid to Ralla. Oppai didn’t seem to have expected them.