The Beast of Cretacea (38 page)

After dinner Gabriel invites Ishmael to join him and Diana beside a fire.

“T’what we owe this visit?” Gabriel asks, a cautious edge to his voice.

Ishmael takes a steadying breath and tells them everything: how he, Queequeg, and their crewmate Pip were captured by pirates, how the pirates were going to kill Queequeg and him, but Pip saved their lives . . . by telling them about the islanders farming terrafins.

Diana bangs a fist against the ground. “I knew it!” She glares at Gabriel. “And ye were so certain he’d never tell!”

Ishmael hangs his head and accepts the blame. Ultimately it will make no difference that it’s not actually his fault: that Pip found out about the islanders’ terrafins by eavesdropping on a private conversation he was having with Gwen. All that matters now is that the islanders are in danger.

With sadness in his eyes, Gabriel speaks to Diana. “’Tis true t’we have been betrayed. Yet he has returned t’warn us. ’Twas not compelled to do this. ’Tis a mark of character.”

Diana’s response is a contemptuous guffaw. “We must redouble our efforts t’protect ourselves. ’Tis time t’train the older children in the arts of combat.”

Ishmael steels himself for what he has to say next: “Wait. There’s more. I have to ask you for a favor.”

Diana stares at him in disbelief. “Art ye mad? After what ye’ve done t’us? Ye should be cast off forever!”

With a pained look, Gabriel watches the red sparks of the fire vanish into the night air. “What ’tis this favor?” he asks quietly.

“Ye can’t be serious!” Diana sputters, but Gabriel holds up a hand to silence her.

“The pirates still have Queequeg,” Ishmael says. “We may be too late to save him, but we must try. Except my friends and I can’t do it alone. If we’re going to have any chance of succeeding, we’ll need your —”

“’Tis out of the question!” Diana spits. “Even if ye deserved our help, we need everyone here t’ defend against those demons. ’Tis only a matter of time till they come.”

Gabriel reflects for a moment, then speaks to Ishmael. “We must think of more than one life. There art the lives of all our people t’ consider.”

Ishmael anticipated this reply — indeed, he knows he would react the same way were he in their position. “I understand. But what if I had a way to save Queequeg
and
stop the pirates from ever attacking you?”

“’Tis utter nonsense!” Diana contends. “A handful of ye against a whole host of demons? Impossible!”

But Gabriel asks, “How?”

Ishmael lays out his plan. When he’s finished, Gabriel picks up a stick and stirs the coals in the fire while he thinks.

“Ye can’t seriously be considering this,” Diana warns him. “’Tis madness. A false promise t’ get us t’help him save his friend. How many times must he mislead us before ye understand?”

Gabriel entwines his fingers and stares at the fire without answering.

With a hard look, Diana tells Ishmael, “We’ve heard ye and will discuss it among ourselves. But ye shan’t hold t’hope.”

While Fayaway remains behind to listen to the discussion, Ishmael, Gwen, Charity, and Billy go down to the beach. The great orb hangs in the night sky, casting a rippling, luminescent stripe across the black water.

Sitting on the shore, Charity lets the gentle tide lap at her feet. “I can’t get over how beautiful it is here.”

Once again, Ishmael must gulp back the guilt he feels, knowing he could be responsible for the violence and mayhem that may soon visit this place.

“How did ye come to be captured by the pirates?” Billy asks.

In the glow of the orblight, Ishmael catches Billy up on all that’s happened since they left him. Though Charity and Gwen have heard the stories before, this time around Gwen seems confused by one detail: “You’re saying that the pirates let Pip go once they found out he was of the Gilded? How could the Gilded be so powerful, not only on Earth but throughout the galaxy, without the rest of us even knowing they existed?”

Once again, Charity casts a curious look at Ishmael. Then she says, “What if I told you there’s a whole industry devoted to making sure you don’t know about the Gilded — or about much of anything, really.”

They listen while she goes on to explain that between her job as the ship’s stasis tech, things Starbuck said to her while under the influence of the serum, and what she’s picked up from a bit of judicious snooping, she has a reasonably good understanding of what’s really been going on back on Earth:

“Everything is controlled by the Trust. What was once ‘the government’ was sold off and privatized during the Resource Wars — when the east and west fought over Africa and Antarctica for their natural resources. Only it wasn’t
countries
fighting those wars, as you were led to believe. It was corporations.”

Ishmael thinks back to Pip saying that Queek had no comprehension of how powerful the Gilded were. “So, the Trust and the Gilded are the same thing?”

“When the war finally ended and the truce was signed, the few hundred families who owned the corporations got together and formed a trust that controlled everything,” Charity continues. “Obviously it was in their interest not to let the rest of the citizenry know that the result of centuries of sacrifice, death, and destruction was the Gilded’s enormous increase in personal wealth and power, so steps were taken to make sure no one found out.”

Like a holographic image coming together over a holodeck, Ishmael sees a picture forming. “Queek said they banned the manufacture of electronic memory in tablets so that they could control the flow of information. And they outlawed Lectors, who were the only ones who could record and preserve the truth.”

Billy, who’s been listening quietly so far, speaks up: “Right. But the Gilded themselves still learn how t’decipher the symbols. Ye can’t control information if ye can’t make sense of it.”

Ishmael is silent for a moment, thinking. “While we were being held by the pirates, we found out that Pip had learned how to swim on Earth. And he once slipped and said he’d never had Natrient in his entire life.”

“What the Gilded eat ’tisn’t much different from the scurry, meats, and vegetables the islanders eat,” Billy says. “Except the Gilded’s food starts as stem cells and ’tis grown in agar, micronutrients, and amino acids.”

Gwen snorts. “Next you’ll tell us that they live on a part of the Earth where there’s no Shroud.”

“No, they art under the Shroud like everyone else, but they live inside enormous domes built over the rare aquifiers not contaminated by fracking wastewater. They have artificial sunlight, filtered air, and almost unlimited amounts of fresh water.”

“That can’t be true,” Gwen protests. “It’s not possible. We would’ve known —”

“It’s true,” Ishmael breaks in. “My foster brother and I once climbed a smokestack and saw one. It was so far away that it was just a bluish-green convex shape. We didn’t know what it was at the time, but now I think it must have been one of their domes.”

Billy scoops up a handful of sand and lets it slip through his fingers. “Ye once asked what my family’s company did. We disposed of the dead. ’Tis the one business the Gilded want nothing t’ do with. We were the only non-Gilded allowed in the domes.”

“Why don’t they want anything to do with the dead?” Ishmael asks.

“T’ cease terrifies them. ’Tis their greatest dread.”

“But everyone has to die,” Gwen says. “Even the Gilded.”

Billy doesn’t respond, and when Ishmael glances at Charity, she looks away. He senses there’s still something they’re not revealing. But before he can press either of them to explain, Fayaway comes down to the beach. She kneels beside Ishmael and their shoulders touch. “’Twill not help you. ’Tis not in our nature t’ be warlike. Even this”— she gestures at the defenses that have been built in the past few weeks —“’twas unnatural for us. So what ye ask . . . ’Tis too much.”

The lagoon’s tiny waves lap at the sand. Ishmael and Fayaway sit together. Billy has insisted that he join them against the pirates, saying Queequeg is his friend, too. Now he, Gwen, and Charity have gone back to the village.

Fayaway bites her lower lip. “When will ye leave?”

Ishmael looks at her, wondering if after tomorrow they will ever see each other again. “First thing in the morning.”

Her fingers weave into his and squeeze. In this moment, in the gentle glow of the orblight, with the infinite sparkling night above and the vast ocean beyond, Ishmael wishes he could stay on this island for the rest of his years, in this place unscathed by everything the people of Earth once thought of as progress and now know to be annihilation.

Strangely, Ishmael sleeps soundly. Perhaps it’s being in the hammock in the fresh air scented with night-fragrant flowers. Or maybe it’s being among the islanders. Though he can’t remember his dreams, he knows they were pleasant. But then he wakes, and the agreeable sensations vanish.

The islanders have prepared a breakfast of purple and yellow plant foods and treestone meat, but Ishmael is too wound up to eat. There will be four of them, armed only with blowguns — alas, that only Billy has learned to use — against dozens of heavily armed and benumbed pirates. What chance can they possibly have? Ishmael is haunted by the thought that he is leading this small band toward certain death. Even if his plan were to somehow miraculously succeed, it isn’t conceivable that they will all return unharmed.

While they eat, Gabriel tries one more time to dissuade him. “Ye don’t even know ’tis Queequeg still alive.”

For a moment, Ishmael contemplates abandoning the mission. He and the others could stay here and help defend the island. But no sooner does he think this than he sees the foolishness of it. Even with all of Diana’s preparations, the islanders wouldn’t stand a chance. Now that the pirates know about the terrafins, they will be relentless, sooner or later breaching the island defenses. Ishmael has already spent too much time imagining the terrible cataclysm that will follow.

He holds Gabriel’s gaze. “I appreciate your concern. I may not live through this, but I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try.”

When it’s time to embark, Fayaway is not among the islanders who come to the beach to see the crew off. Ishmael suspects that she can’t face him, knowing what his fate will probably be.

While the crew board Chase Boat Four, Gabriel and Diana stand at the water’s edge, engaged in a low, heated debate. At one point Diana raises her voice enough for Ishmael to hear her say, “No! They may have saved Thistle, but ye don’t owe them ye life in return.”

Gabriel looks up and locks eyes with Ishmael. The two stare . . . and then Fayaway’s father appears to make a decision. He wades into the shallows toward the chase boat while Diana watches, stone-faced.

“’Twill come with ye,” he says when he reaches them. “But one of ye must stay here.”

“Why?” Charity asks.

Ishmael can guess: “To make sure that if we succeed in freeing our friend, we’ll come back and not just abandon you?”

“’Tis a foolish notion,” Gabriel allows, “but also a way for Diana t’ save face in front of the others.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Gwen says. “Of course we’ll —”

“We don’t have time to argue,” Ishmael tells his crew. “Gabriel could be our key to defeating the pirates. He swims well and knows how to navigate by the stars and traverse the jungle in silence. And he’s a skilled hunter. Whoever stays behind could help the islanders prepare for an attack, in case we don’t succeed. . . .”

He eyes Billy, who shakes his head. “Gabriel and I art the only ones who know the blowguns. Ye shall need us.”

Next, Ishmael tries Charity, who shakes her head firmly. “Don’t even think about it, honey.”

That leaves Gwen. She looks ready to argue, but then exhales an exasperated breath. “So it has to be me. All right, as long as you promise to give those pirates what they deserve, okay?”

The others promise they will. Gwen climbs out.

And Gabriel climbs in.

The night sky is cloudy and, without benefit of orblight, very dark. The chase boat floats a dozen yards from shore. In addition to the nightly cacophony of jungle creatures, the sound of a raucous fight and the flicker of firelight come through the trees from the pirate camp. It has taken the chase boat several days to get here. The air is thick with nervous energy.