Battle for Earth (14 page)

“Then we'll build you another one,” screamed Johnny, exasperated. “Alf—take off your jacket. I need your braces. We can make a harness.” He would have Kovac pull him through the water like a miniature submersible.

“A harness? Like a common mule,” said Kovac.

“Exactly,” Johnny replied.

Every second counted. The braces weren't as secure as he'd have liked, but they would have to do. Johnny had taken off his boots and was standing, beside the hovering Kovac, holding onto a pair of makeshift reins while peering into the gloomy depths. Alf was looking anxiously at him from across the shaft. If Johnny didn't jump soon, he knew he'd lose all courage.

“On three,” he said to the computer. “We'll jump together and then you can pull me to deck 18.”

“I fully expect to regret this course of action,” said Kovac, his casing lighting up the gloomy bridge as he spoke.

“One …” said Johnny. The water was already around deck 34 and coming up very quickly. “Two …” He took a very, very deep breath and wrapped the ends of the braces around his wrists. “Three.”

Johnny jumped, pulling Kovac down with him. He hit the water, feet together, and carried on under. Never had he felt such cold. His whole body screamed—any air in his lungs must have frozen. It was like having a million shards of ice jabbing into his forehead. He pivoted as though in zero G, somersaulting to face down the shaft, but there was no blood reaching his legs to drive the muscles to kick out. He hung hopelessly in the dark salty water, miles below the surface of the ocean, tucking his knees into his chest as he desperately tried to warm himself.

The harness jerked. He clung on for all he was worth as a survival instinct kicked in—to let go meant certain death. Kovac plunged into the depths pulling Johnny behind. Once, what seemed a lifetime ago in Atlantis, Johnny had been pulled through an underwater tunnel by a dolphin. Then at least the water had been warm. With his whole body numb, even if he found Clara and Bentley, he wasn't sure he'd be any use.

Down further they went—he couldn't hold his breath much longer. Kovac must surely have missed the turn. He considered simply opening his mouth and welcoming the ocean inside. It would be quick and the pain would stop. Then he pictured another mouth—the Krun Queen's—opening before him. He could still hear her voice in his head. He thought of Clara and how, despite the cost, she'd folded him away to safety. No way was he going to abandon his sister.

Deeper still … he could see lights in the darkness as the water pressure squeezed his eyeballs. The reins yanked sideways. Johnny's fingers slid to the very end, but he held on … just. He let a little air out of his lungs, or else they would burst, and saw it rise in the direction Kovac was pulling him. They were going upward. He broke the surface. There was an air pocket. He gulped it down, filling his lungs hungrily.

His head above the surface, Johnny's teeth began to chatter uncontrollably, but there was another noise too—the sound of Bentley barking.

“K-K-Kovac,” said Johnny, “t-t-talk to me.”

“Haven't I done enough already without engaging in mindless conversation?” asked the computer. As he spoke, the light from his casing illuminated the garden deck. Almost everything was submerged except the very tops of a couple of trees. It was from one of these that the Old English sheepdog was barking.

“B-B-Bents,” shouted Johnny. “Here, b-b-boy. K-K-Kovac—k-k-keep t-t-talking.”

“And what, exactly, do you want me to say? Perhaps you would like to question my solution to the Riemann Hypothesis?”

The gray and white dog had seen them. He leapt into the water and paddled for all he was worth, holding a large bundle in his mouth.

“Or it may be that you have a more succinct formulation of my unified field theory?”

Now Bentley was closer, it was clear the “bundle” was wearing clothes.

“I suppose there is my quite brilliant, if controversial, analysis of the many-worlds hypothesis.”

The Old English sheepdog paddled into the pool of light cast by Kovac, holding Clara by the scruff of her neck. Her eyes were closed. Her body had a blue tinge and felt even colder than his own.

“G-G-Good b-b-boy, g-g-good b-b-boy,” said Johnny as he forced his unresponsive limbs and numb fingers to strap his sister's limp body into the harness. Kovac was still prattling on so at least there was light. Even if Clara was dead, Johnny couldn't leave her sodden, saturated body down here, all alone in the dark, but he had to hope against hope.

Bentley's head sank beneath the water's surface. Johnny's arm darted under and hauled the exhausted sheepdog up by his matted fur. Then Johnny took a trailing end of one of Alf's braces and tied it around the dog's collar, hoping it would be enough.

“K-K-K-Kovac,” he said, “t-t-t-take them t-t-t-to the b-b-b-bridge. Then c-c-c-come b-b-b-back.”

He wasn't at all sure the quantum computer had heard the last bit. The lighted casing was already vanishing under the water and soon went out. It was freezing. Johnny kicked his legs to tread water and keep afloat, but his toes and calves were cramping up. Clara's body had looked so cold, worse even than Nicky's, seen through the thought chamber. Bram had said that death was not the end, and Johnny's mom and dad had “gone beyond,” whatever that meant. If he closed his eyes and stopped fighting, maybe he'd join them.

His head banged against the roof of the deck. In the dark he hadn't seen how fast the water was rising. He felt around, found a nearby strut and wrapped his arms around it. There was very little room—soon the air would be gone.

A mighty clang rang out along the
Spirit of London
's hull as the great ship shook and lurched, continuing its fall down into the trench. Briefly, Johnny found himself dangling in midair as the water receded—they were going to be saved. Then it washed over him, all the way to the roof, down his throat and filling his lungs. The wave subsided. There was air again—just. Johnny retched with what little energy he had left, spitting out salt water.

Another bang … and another and some scraping, as though the poor ship was bashing rock after rock on her way down. There was a voice. Perhaps his family was calling to him from beyond. He tried to make out the words, but his frozen brain was so slow.

“Clara … Johnny … coming.” The ship lurched again as she plummeted ever deeper, the water even blacker and colder. Again Johnny was hanging, but this time the swell still came up to his knees. Below the surface his feet were so cold that for all he knew they'd fallen off. This time he was prepared as the wave roared back, closing his mouth to the icy wash. It subsided a little, but remained above chin-level. With all the strength he had he lifted his body higher, keeping his mouth above the water line. There was a light—tiny, but glowing softly, coming from his arm. His brain tried to make sense of it. The luminous dial—his wristcom. Someone had been speaking in his ear. Perhaps Clara was still alive. The gears whirred faster in Johnny's brain.

“I cannot stabilize the ship,” came Alf's voice. “If only Master Johnny were here.”

“I-I-I-I am h-h-h-here,” he tried to shout. He lowered his mouth as close to his wrist as possible, taking it right down to the water line. “Where's C-C-C-Clara?” he stammered.

“Johnny!” came his sister's squeal. The wristcom was under water. He couldn't lift it to respond.

“Master Johnny—Kovac must be close to your position,” said Alf. “Hold on.”

The computer had heard him and was coming back. The
Spirit of London
shook again, but then everything went silent, as though she was away from the canyon wall, still falling—falling forever. There was a light coming closer, as if he was reaching the end of a long tunnel. He'd read that this was what you saw when you were about to die. The water came over
his mouth and up to his nostrils. The light was brightening. He didn't want it to be the end—not when he'd heard Clara's voice. Again he lifted himself, pressing his lips against the very ceiling of the deck for one final lungful of air.

“There you are,” said Kovac, bobbing up beside him.

In the computer's glow Johnny saw his own skin was blue with cold.

“Hold on,” said Kovac. “Let's hope I can find my way back. Of course I expect I will, although any lesser machine …”

Johnny's fingers had locked rigid around the roof strut. He stared hopelessly at them. He tried to bite at them, even gnaw them off—it was as if they belonged to someone else. He willed them to move and roared with rage. He wanted to live—he wanted to see his sister again. Finally, slowly, agonizingly painfully, his muscles responded. Johnny twisted a piece of Alf's trailing braces around his wrists.

“Don't let go,” were the quantum computer's final words as it yanked him into the depths.

There was no left or right, up or down. He just held on and went where he was dragged, his lungs all but exhausted of air. Once more, in the distance, he saw a light, shining at the end of a long corridor, only this time it was different. This time it told him there was power on the bridge. Kovac was pulling him to safety. Whatever he did, he mustn't let go. He gripped his makeshift reins as tightly as he could, but even as the bridge loomed large, they fell slack. Something had gone wrong—the harness had slipped off Kovac. He'd come so very close. Johnny tried to kick with his legs, to propel himself the final few meters up the elevator shaft, but it was no use. His momentum slowed and then he stopped, hovering agonizingly close to the surface. Then he was sinking, falling away into oblivion.

Something was pushing into the small of his back, bashing the last of the air from his body, sending little bubbles floating
past his face. It seemed too soon to have reached the foot of the ship. Then he was moving upward again—being forced through the water. Lights swam before his eyes—he couldn't hold out another millisecond. They broke the surface, Johnny first, then Kovac, shunting him on and into the air, out of the shaft and onto the floor of the bridge. He tried to breathe but his lungs were full of water. Warmth surrounded and engulfed him. A long tongue slopped over his face and he closed his eyes. He felt burning—even his insides were on fire as a hot fluid poured down his throat.

“
Live ones …
”

It was so very cold. Johnny tried to curl up into a tight little ball for warmth, but his body was unable to bend. He wondered if somehow none of it had been real—that he remained deep inside the Krun Queen's belly, his chattering teeth the effect of some slow-working poison, freezing his veins and sending him mad. He couldn't see properly, but could still hear her voice. It was so very cold.

Apart from opening his eyes, he still couldn't move. Slowly Johnny was able to focus on the ceiling, not very far above him. Everything looked orange. His eyes might have been damaged after so long in the water. Something about this place felt familiar and reassuring. Now a thick orange glove was in front of his face. He wanted it out of the way and it dropped to his side. Finally Johnny twigged—it was his own hand. He was in a gel pod.