Warblegrub and the Forbidden Planet (13 page)

“Which way?” asked the Colonel, as the light grew around them.

They were drawing level with the seabed but as 395 tried to get his bearings, Fardelbear struck again. Appearing suddenly from the shadows below, he ploughed through the company and scattered them. 207’s torpedo trailed after him, exploding in the distance. Held together by the Colonel and the Sergeant, the company regrouped, but before they had left the trench he struck yet again and grabbed another soldier. Once more the Redeemers fired too late and Fardelbear vanished with his victim.

“Hold formation!” the Colonel ordered, as they scattered again, and though most obeyed, several kept swimming, overcome with terror.

207 slotted another torpedo into the Redeemer. “Running low!”

“Better make these count then,” said Peter.

As they readied their weapons, Private 312 saw Fardelbear’s red eyes below and yelled a warning. Peter and 207 fired in quick succession and though Fardelbear dodged one torpedo, he darted right into the path of the other. The missile failed to explode but it carried him back down into the trench and slammed him into the cliff wall. Stunned, he tumbled down the rock face and the falling boulders inspired the Sergeant, who ordered Peter and 207 to fire their remaining torpedoes. Soon a great section of the trench wall was collapsing and an avalanche poured down on top of Fardelbear. When it ceased, both he and the submarine were buried deep.

Crowding round the Sergeant, Peter and Private 207, the survivors congratulated each other. Those who had fled began to return and, though the Colonel scowled, as yet he said nothing. But when Sarah failed to appear, he refused to search for her or wait a moment longer. Peter, however, refused to obey and his comrades waited, hearts in their mouths, while the Colonel eyed him dangerously.

“With respect, Sir,” the Sergeant intervened, “we don’t leave people behind!”

She swam to Peter’s side and 395 was feeling the compulsion to join them when Sarah’s torch reappeared in the trench below. As she approached, they could see she was tapping the side of her helmet, indicating a fault with the com-link. Under the Colonel’s glare, she rejoined the company.

The Colonel turned to the Sergeant. “236, you are demoted to the rank of corporal and will face charges for insubordination on completion of our mission.” Then he turned to 207. “Sergeant 207, can I count on your loyalty and obedience?”

207 saluted smartly.

“Corporal 236, can I count on yours?”

Stoney-faced, the former sergeant saluted.

“Further disobedience will be punished summarily,” the Colonel warned the others, and they all swam on.

Deeply shaken, they soon forgot their joy at Fardelbear’s defeat and fell in line, saluting the new Sergeant as they passed. Last of all, Corporal 236 offered her salute as smartly as the rest.

Chapter Fourteen

“What more proof do you need?” Shmi demanded, as the rainbow bubble bobbed to the surface in a trough between huge waves.

Warblegrub was still concentrating, his eyes shut tight. She cast an anxious look at the sky. Full of thick black smoke, burning gases and flickering tongues of lightning, it was an apocalyptic sight. A wave crashed over the bubble with little effect but though neither Alex nor the three birdpeople woke, a wing stretched out and brushed Warblegrub’s face. His nose twitched and his eyes opened. His expression was troubled. Another wave crashed over them and the bubble rolled a little.

“What’s wrong, dear?”

“It’s Fardelbear; something’s happened to him!”

Shmi was horrified. “Is it the Bomb? Has it…?”

Warblegrub shook his head. “He managed to protect himself. And in any case we don’t know if the bomb
can
actually destroy us.”

“Hardly a hypothesis you’d want to test!”

Warblegrub looked round at the sea and sky. “Let’s get away from here,” he suggested. “There’s too much confusion.”

The rainbow bubble began to move swiftly through the waves and soon reached calmer waters, where it slowed down. Warblegrub’s face lit up with a smile.

“Some friends are coming!” he exclaimed, pointing ahead, and Shmi saw the humped backs of a bale of turtles approaching.

The creatures’ dour expressions changed to delight when they saw Warblegrub and Shmi, but when they noticed Alex cushioned among the soft feathers of the birdpeople, they began to mutter angrily. Reassured that the human posed no immediate danger, the turtles recounted Fardelbear’s pursuit of the metal monster but when they came to the avalanche in the trench, their faces darkened and they fell silent.

“What happened to Fardelbear?” asked Warblegrub apprehensively.

The turtles bowed their heads. “The humans killed him,” one of them mumbled.

Warblegrub sucked sharply through his teeth. “He won’t like that one little bit!”

Shmi frowned. “What do we do?”

“I think we’d better split up,” replied Warblegrub, after some thought. “You’d better go see if Kali will help – she might listen to you.”

Shmi glanced at Alex. “I’ll take her with me then.”

An eyebrow shot up. “Is that wise?”

Shmi looked perplexed.

“Kali will….” Warblegrub made claws and a fierce face.

Shmi rolled her eyes. “You do exaggerate, dear,” she chided. “She’s not as bad as that!”

“Not as bad!
She makes Fardelbear seem positively kittenish!”

*

The seabed rose as the divers drew nearer the island and they entered a forest of seaweed. As they wound their way between the tall fronds cuttlefish fled, their fins rippling, and shoals of brightly-coloured fish darted away. An octopus vanished in a cloud of ink, and lobsters, crabs and crayfish scuttled off at their approach.

They found strange rock formations among the weeds and thought they could see parts of buildings: a window and a chimney, a flight of stairs and a balcony. Their suspicions were confirmed when they came upon a long stone wall. Though covered with corals and anemones, it was still several metres high in places and sections of battlements and a gatehouse were intact. They swam on, with narrow winding streets of roofless houses below, choked with drifts of sand and seaweed.

“What the hell’s a town doing down here?” Private 856 exclaimed.

“No great mystery about that is there, S.O.?” said the Colonel.

“No mystery at all, Sir. Sea levels rise and fall over time, land sinks for all sorts of reasons: plate tectonics, liquefaction; there are drowned settlements all over the planet.”

In the world above, the sun shone out from behind the clouds and reached down into the gloom, revealing a plaza at the centre of the town. Now home to huge shoals of fish, armies of crabs and jostling crowds of corals and anemones, it was surrounded by tall buildings whose façades still showed the remnants of decorative statuettes and gargoyles. They had all clearly been very splendid in former days but the building on the far side of the plaza, at the head of a broad flight of steps, must once have dominated the town. Although little was left above the height of the other buildings, the remains of a soaring arch and the base of a crumbling tower hinted at an erstwhile glory.

“This was probably a temple,” 395 concluded, as he studied the carvings above the great double doorway. “The images seem to be religious.”

“Who are they?” asked Sarah, pointing to three well-preserved figures above the doorway; a man and woman beneath a tree laden with round fruit, and an old man in a long robe, pointing away from the tree.

“I believe they’re characters from a very ancient story,” said 395. “I think they’re meant to be the first humans, Adam and Eve. The tree is the Tree of Life – or maybe it was the Tree of Knowledge – whose fruit they ate without the god’s permission; he’s the old man in the robe. And can you see the snake?” The creature was coiled around a branch. “He tricked them into eating the fruit.”

“A snake?”

“It was a symbol of evil – considered deceitful and cunning by some of our ancestors.”

“Stories!” the Colonel sneered, and swam on.

“The god’s pointing away from the tree,” observed Sarah, then she continued in sign language.
“He’s banishing them!”

“Will we ever learn?”
replied 395.

They followed the others, their shadows slithering over the threshold of a long hall lined with rows of pillars and arched windows, but without a roof. Mounds of rubble, thickets of seaweed, and wooden beams encrusted with barnacles – all teeming with life – covered the floor. Fascinated, 395 paused to study a colony of tiny blue crabs, noticing as he did so that the stone over which they were scuttling was carved as a face. Brushing away the weeds, he uncovered the effigy of a man in primitive armour, lying on a large stone chest, clutching a sword to his breast.

“What is it?” asked the Colonel.

“I think it’s a tomb!”

Similar effigies lined both sides of the hall; warriors in armour, some with their wives beside them in elegant gowns and elaborate headdresses.

“Must’ve been important people in their time,” said Private 856.

“And now they sleep with the fish,” said the Colonel, ushering them on.

They were near the centre of the building where four great wings met beneath the broken arch. Ahead of them, the most complete wing revealed the building’s former dimensions. A roving shaft of sunlight shone through the tall arched window at its end and illuminated a stone table on a dais.

“That must be the altar where sacrifices were….” 395 stopped, noticing that Peter had raised his weapon. Following his gaze, he saw they were being watched from above the altar.

The face was so lifelike that the company had taken up firing positions before they realised they were looking at a statue. A man hung there, clad only in a loin cloth. His arms were outstretched and they shuddered to see he was nailed to a cross and wore a crown of thorns on his head. The image was familiar but 395 had always been more interested in natural history than human history and he was unable to recall the man’s name. He thought the face both wise and sad, as if it knew something of profound importance about their fate and wanted to warn them.

Private 856 was especially drawn to the statue. “It’s beautiful,” said the medic, captivated by the image of compassion. “Who is he?”

“No idea,” replied 395.

Turning aside, they made for a small doorway in the side wall. Last to pass through, Peter sensed a movement behind. Though the sunlight had gone, everything seemed normal until he noticed the statue had many more arms than before. The creature floating above the altar was almost exactly like Fardelbear, though somehow Peter knew that it was not he. But before he could activate the com-link, the creature launched itself at him. Slamming into him, it knocked the breath from his body as it grabbed him and they were gone without anyone noticing.

Oblivious to their loss, the company headed on into shallower waters where the houses petered out. The forest of seaweed grew sparser as the land rose more steeply, and from what would once have been a hilltop overlooking the town, 395 looked back at the dazzling array of sunbeams at play among the ruins. He heard the voices of the townsfolk and imagined the streets and plazas bustling with human life, while the rising seabed became a landscape of fields and orchards.