Warblegrub and the Forbidden Planet (12 page)

“Why can’t we fly under your protection here?” asked Alex, as her mount drew alongside Shmi’s.

“We can,” she replied, “but these wonderful creatures are such experts. I couldn’t do better in an atmosphere like this.”

Crossing the river, the flock followed the long road to the harbour. Alex looked down and wondered how her comrades were faring, and how many more of them lay dead in the darkness below.

*

Having trouble recalling the procedure for flying, Warblegrub was studying the gulls circling over the harbour when he noticed the flock of birdpeople descending. They spiralled down and landed in a perfect circle around him, unloading their passengers then bowing reverently. Shmi, however, marched straight up to her husband, inspected him thoroughly and frowned.

“You need a haircut and a shave!” she concluded sternly then took his face in her hands and kissed him tenderly on the lips.

Blushing, Warblegrub looked round. Seeing Alex among the flock, he waved and grinned sheepishly.

“Where now?” Shmi asked.

It took him a moment to gather his thoughts then his arm shot out, pointing out to sea. “They’ve stolen a submarine! We’d better catch them before Fardelbear kills them all!”

“Didn’t you promise him that he could?”

“I suppose I did,” Warblegrub hedged, “but he had such a puss on I had to tell him something.”

Shmi gave him a penetrating look. “Are you sure they’re worth saving?”

He considered this, gave Alex a sidelong glance and nodded. “I think so.”

Shmi sighed. “Then we’d better get a move on!”

Within minutes the huge harbour was a small silver rectangle and soon the bay itself was just a dimple in the great sweeping curve of coastline. As they left the land behind, Warblegrub searched the moonlit sea below, peering over the wings of his mount, and when they were far out over the ocean, he sniggered.

“What is it?” asked Alex.

“Fardelbear’s trying to catch up with your friends,” he chortled, “but he can’t swim very well!”

“Good job he didn’t try and fly then!” said Shmi, but Warblegrub pretended not to hear.

“Any sign of my friends?”

“Not yet. They had quite a head start and that submarine of yours is very fast.”

Shmi looked worried. “If we can’t stop them, we’re going to have a hell of a problem!”

“I know,” replied Warblegrub testily.

“I mean it,” Shmi insisted, “we’re going to need her help!”

Alex was alarmed. “Whose help?”

“Fardelbear’s wife,” replied Warblegrub.

Having endured more than enough disturbing revelations in recent days, Alex decided that, at present, she had no need to learn any more about Fardelbear’s wife. “Oh!” she said and lapsed into silence.

The flock flew high over another great bank of storm clouds and on into the light of dawn. Open ocean lay below them as far as the eye could see and there in its midst was the sleek black body of the submarine.

“There’s the sea monster!” cried the leading birdman, and the flock descended.

*

“The twin suns on my settlement camp are very beautiful,” Sergeant 236 recalled, as she and 395 kept watch from the conning tower in the early light of dawn, “but they’re far away, so the light is cold and you can always see the stars through the thin atmosphere. It’s an incredible sight but it makes you feel really vulnerable and insignificant. Here the sky seems all there is and you can forget the big scary universe beyond.”

395 failed to reply and she saw he was preoccupied, watching the others exercising on deck with a grave expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“He’s losing it, you know!”

“He?”

“The Colonel”

“He’s under pressure!” replied the Sergeant defensively.

“We’re
all
under pressure!” 395 flared then glanced round to see if anyone had heard him. “First time I served with him the mission was a disaster,” he continued quietly. “The brass sent us in unprepared, undermanned – typical snafu! We lost half our people to a minotaur – a really nasty one! We were out of ammo, on our last legs, all but buried – trapped at the end of a long winding canyon.” 395 paused, recalling the monster’s fearful bellows echoing in the ravine. “Colonel faced the beast down armed with a large stick and a hunting knife. Cowering in the shadows, I watched him – he never even broke a sweat! When we got up, he had the creature dead and gutted at his feet!”

“Awesome! A hero!”

“Or maybe a madman?”

“Your point being?”

395 shrugged. “He’s losing control and you’re second in command!”

They fell silent at the sound of footsteps on the ladder and when the Colonel appeared, they wondered if he had been listening.

“Don’t you know how to use those?” he snapped, indicating the pair of binoculars 395 had found in the operations room, then directed their attention to a cluster of specks to stern, low in the sky.

“Birds!” exclaimed 395. “Big ones!”

“I’ll bet it’s that meddling friend of yours!” snarled the Colonel. “Privates 207 and 585, get up here now with your weapons!” he yelled. “The rest of you prepare to dive!”

*

Alex could just make out the submarine’s conning tower, bobbing amongst the waves. A great swell rose directly ahead and the cold spray splashed her face, but the birdman lifted effortlessly over the crest. Turning from the freezing wind, she glimpsed Warblegrub to her left, leading the first wing – a long undulating line of birdpeople stretching out on either side. A glance behind showed Shmi leading the second wing. When she turned back, the submarine was very close. Another wave rose and fell, then flames flickered in the conning tower and the birdwoman to her right dropped like a stone.

Bullets zipped past and several more birdpeople fell. The first wing returned fire and where their arrows found the target, the submarine glowed red. Alex shielded her eyes as her birdman passed through the clouds of steam that were boiling up and swooped low over the deck. He fired several more arrows then began to climb as the second wing attacked, but before they could find their mark, the submarine slid beneath the waves. By the time Shmi joined the circling flock high overhead, it had vanished into the depths.

“Don’t worry, we know exactly where….” Warblegrub began, but was interrupted by a cry from one of the birdpeople below.

A missile was rising from the waves, climbing towards them. Trailing fire and smoke, it passed through the flock, scattering birdpeople in every direction. Those with passengers dived straight into the sea and before Alex knew what was happening, she was underwater. A searing light almost blinded her then a hand grabbed her arm, another covered her mouth and she was pulled downwards, deep down – impossibly deep! The light was still growing and the water was boiling. Dragged deeper into the ocean, Alex began to lose consciousness but before she blacked out she thought she saw a bubble of rainbow light forming around her.

*

Several kilometres clear of the blast zone, the submarine slowed down and the soldiers picked themselves up off the floor. By the dull red glow of the emergency lights, they stumbled along the corridor to the Operations Room.

“What happened?” asked Sarah, first to arrive.

“We fired a nuclear missile,” 395 answered, his eyes on the tablet.

“Nuclear!” she exclaimed. “How come we’re still alive?”

“This boat’s designed to get close to its target and get away fast.”

“Against a flock of birds!”

“Against the enemy!” the Colonel reminded her. He glared at the company crowding in the doorway then dismissed them with a gesture of his hand. “You disapprove as well?” he asked 395 when they were alone.

“Disapprove, Sir?”

“You were clearly uncomfortable with my order.”

“With respect Sir, I was!” 395 squared his shoulders. “You risked our safety and the success of the mission….”

“You calculated we could get clear.”

“With no margin of safety whatsoever, to kill a flock of
birds!
”

“To kill Warblegrub,” the Colonel replied, “who’s as great a threat to this mission as that Fardelbear!”

395 had no answer, at least not one he was prepared to give voice to now. He nodded and looked down at the data on the tablet but his failure to salute was noted.

“Don’t go soft on me now, S.O.,” the Colonel warned. “I’ll need you more than anyone before this is over!”

395 saluted curtly.

“Now,” said the Colonel. “What’re we looking at?”

“The sonar, Sir. It’s quite an advanced system – imaging’s crystal clear!”

Having watched the exchange from the doorway, Sergeant 236 now entered quietly and joined them. The image on the tablet appeared in 3D above the map table, and though lacking colour, the sonar revealed almost every feature of the ocean depths in extraordinary detail: blasted rocks, uprooted beds of seaweed, shattered coral reefs, even dead fish raining down, killed by the shock from the nuclear blast. On the edge of the devastation, a much larger creature fell right in their path, and 395 recognised the curved tail and dorsal fin of a dolphin. The Colonel and the Sergeant braced themselves but the impact was soft, and the creature bounced off and rolled down the hull. Another appeared and sank to the bottom, then another. Soon there was a large school of dolphins all around the submarine, twisting and turning, falling lifelessly to the seabed. The Colonel watched them stony-faced, and there was an awkward silence that persisted until they were only a few kilometres from their destination. Then the Colonel ordered the Sergeant to prepare the company but she had barely left the room when 395 gasped out loud.

“We’re passing over a trench in the ocean floor,” he explained. “It’s
very
deep and there’s warm, mineral-rich water welling up.”

“Volcanic?” the Colonel guessed.

395 nodded.

“Is it dangerous?” asked the Sergeant.

“Seems fairly quiet – no particular seismic activity.”

Reminded of her orders, the Sergeant saluted and obeyed, but before she could reach the door, they were thrown to the floor as the submarine stopped dead in the water. Before they could regain their feet, the stern tilted up until the vessel was stood on its nose. Grabbing the tablet before it was wrenched from its connections, 395 held onto the map table but the Sergeant crashed into a bank of screens and computers and the Colonel was left hanging from the periscope. Then the submarine was pushed, nose first, into the trench. It was fortunate for all on board that 395 managed to seal the pressure doors and isolate them from the nose, which was crushed like a tin can when they hit the bottom.

The submarine keeled over and came crashing down, finally settling on the floor of the trench more or less the right way up. The lights flickered and failed but, after moments of terrifying pitch dark, they were suddenly bathed in the dull red glow of the emergency lights.

First on her feet, the Sergeant raced to the crew’s quarters, hurriedly assembled the others and led them to the escape hatch. A wall of lockers held more than enough diving gear for everyone, and when the Colonel and 395 arrived, the soldiers were already scrambling into suits and securing their waterproof backpacks.

“The design’s simple; almost exactly the same as your basic spacesuit.” The Sergeant demonstrated the breathing apparatus that fitted easily over their helmets. “Remember we’re deep down, so we’ll ascend very slowly!”

Once they had tested the equipment, Peter opened the escape hatch and clambered up the ladder. One by one, the rest of the company followed him into the cramped chamber and when the inner hatch was closed behind them, he opened the outer one.

Last to emerge, Private 1805 was surrounded by a ring of his comrades but by some sixth sense he looked up, straight into Fardelbear’s grinning maw. Before he could scream, Fardelbear snatched him up and was gone, shooting away into the murky distance like a torpedo, a trail of bubbles stretching out behind him.

Bunching together in shock and fear, the company rose slowly from the trench, hearts in their mouths. Knives ready, the Redeemers primed with miniaturised torpedoes, they watched every shadow and every movement. Sharks were circling overhead, sleek and menacing silhouettes against the sunlight, but the divers scarcely noticed them.