Free World of Water by James Lovegrove Page A

topside. Get some fresh air.”

 
    16
     
     
    T HE AIR OUTSIDE might have been fresher, and indeed warmer, but it didn’t do much to dispel the chilling memory of the massacre in the storage hold. The Egersund was a floating tomb, and Dev felt no great urge to remain aboard any longer than he had to.
    Sigursdottir insisted that they perform a search of the ship’s forward deck section, the only part they hadn’t checked yet. There was the accommodation level underneath the bridge, and a forecastle beyond that. If by any chance a crewmember had managed to escape the Tritonians’ depredations, they might be hiding out in one of those places.
    The forecastle was home to the Egersund ’s harpoon cannon.
    Or rather, to what was left of it.
    The large, swivel-mounted device had been dismantled, vandalised, destroyed beyond repair. The shattered debris lay strewn. This cannon wouldn’t launch an explosive-tipped projectile at a redback ever again.
    As Dev surveyed the wreckage, he noticed something odd. The distribution of the broken parts was not as random as it first looked. He took a step back to obtain a better view.
    Yes, the bits of cannon hadn’t just been tossed about any old how.
    They had been heaped up. Arranged.
    The pattern they lay in was essentially symmetrical. There was a shallow arch over two small circles, and then a pair of lines projecting out at acute angles, each ending in a V-shape.
    He studied the pattern from the other side. This way round it resembled a smiley face with strange, angry eyebrows. That didn’t seem right. The first view felt more apt, more meaningful. He wasn’t sure why, wasn’t sure how he knew that, but he was convinced it was the correct way of looking at the pattern. Arch on top, circles, outward-pointing lines at the bottom.
    He summoned Sigursdottir over and showed her what he’d found.
    “Make any sense to you?”
    “None whatsoever.”
    “I’m not deluded, though, am I? It’s something the Tritonians put there. They made it on purpose. Yes?”
    “I can’t help but think so. A kind of symbol.”
    “But what’s it for? What does it mean?”
    “Beats me. Must have some significance for them. Maybe it’s a way of marking the ship. Celebrating what they did here.”
    “Or like a gang sign. A graffiti tag.”
    “Possibly. Why don’t we wake Handler up, get him over and ask him? He might know. He might have seen it before.”
    “Good idea. He’s napped long enough anyway. ISS aren’t paying him to –”
    A thunderous boom resounded the length of the Egersund . The ship lurched, throwing Dev and Sigursdottir off-balance.
    “What the – ?” Sigursdottir ran to the port-side gunwale and peered aft. The explosion, or impact, or whatever it had been, had come from that direction.
    Dev, looking over her shoulder, saw a mist of spray hanging in the air and, below it, the sea seething white, effervescing. The carcass of the redback bobbed wildly, rocked by the suddenly turbulent water.
    “We’ve been hit,” he said.
    “No shit,” said Sigursdottir.
    “The Tritonians. They’ve come back for more.”
    “Looks that way. We need to get off this ship before –”
    A second boom shook the whaler, this time coming from its starboard flank.
    “Before that,” Sigursdottir finished. “They’re not content with leaving the Egersund crippled. They want it sunk.”
    Milgrom and Blunt arrived on the forecastle at a run.
    “Sir!” Milgrom said. “I’ve spotted a Tritonian cuttlefish sub just beneath the surface. Looks like it’s going round systematically ramming holes.”
    “Contact Gunnery Sergeant Jiang on the Winterbrook . Tell her to seek and engage.”
    “Yes, sir!”
    “Blunt, where’s Francis?”
    “Last I saw, she was in the cabins.”
    “Get her out here, if she isn’t on her way already. We are leaving .”
    Milgrom and Blunt activated their commplants and relayed Sigursdottir’s orders. Francis appeared a moment later, and the five of them