<What have you done, Jakob?> Pol’s voice somehow sounded small.
<Consider yourself neutered.>
<You really hate me so much you’d disfigure yourself?>
<I hate you more than that. But I didn’t do it for you.>
<Then why?>
I felt no rush to explain myself, so I let him and his question dangle in the dark that had become my entire world. To test my hearing, I put my fingers against my windpipe and felt the vibrations as I hummed a few notes that must’ve sounded like pain-stricken groans. I spoke the next words out loud even though neither Pol nor I could hear them. “You don’t own me anymore. I do.”
I let the corkscrew tongue fall to the floor and reached about until I located the pail. Finding the handle with my fingers, I stood up. With my other hand, I felt for the top of the chair back, which I’d been sure to aim at the hatch. Mentally drawing a line for my feet to follow, I walked with one hand stretched before me.
<If you don’t mean to kill yourself, Jakob, why did you gather the poison?>
Reaching the hatch, I spun the wheel.
<Why so much poison, Jakob?>
<I’m taking over.>
The hatch was open. I couldn’t let myself be seen, but without sight or sound, there was no way to know if anybody was nearby. I stepped out to the corridor, trusting that the Empire’s engineers had moved on to Staircase 5.
<What do you mean you’re taking over?>
I turned right to head for the air lock. Dragging a palm along the wall to keep on a straight line, I counted my steps. At thirty-three, I turned again.
The next run would be sixteen steps, but a bout of dizziness made me stop halfway. Leaning against the wall, I took several calming breaths until my balance returned and started counting again.
<What do you mean by taking over, Jakob? Tell me.>
<I’m going to disable the air lock. I won’t let them escape.>
<You’re lying to me. You’re curled up on the floor like a little baby.>
My hand brushed across wet air tanks, which served as proof that the scuba teams had already come in for the night. Arriving at the air lock, I worked the controls by memory. I reached out a hand to verify the air lock had opened before stepping inside and moving toward the back wall. Making contact, I worked my way down and to the left until I found the screen.
<I’m in the air lock, Pol. I’m pulling the screen off the water intake and setting the pail of fish inside.>
<You’re a liar. I think you’re with the doctor. You’re in tremendous pain, and you finally realized you need help.>
I struggled to get the screen back in position, and once I did, I turned the handles and sealed the bucket inside. <When they try to escape, the water that flows in will be poisoned.>
<Escape from what?>
I was in the corridor; my next destination was back up the stairs to Dome 4. Dragging a hand along the corridor wall, I counted paces back to the T and turned for the staircase, which would be exactly nineteen steps away.
I was keenly aware of how dangerous it was for me to walk these corridors. If spotted in my current condition, all was lost. For all I knew, the governor herself was standing by the stairs, and she was watching me approach, horrified by what the crazy idiot had done to himself.
But I wouldn’t let myself be paralyzed by such possibilities. I chose to believe in my destiny. Nothing could stop me from defeating the Empire.
On the nineteenth step, my hand bumped a bulkhead, and I ducked through and started up the stairs.
The Empire hadn’t survived for millennia because it met the needs of its people. It had survived because of inevitability. But this little backwater world had done the impossible. With a successful revolt, it had cracked the Empire’s aura of infallibility.
The Sire called it a fluke. And now that his minions had returned to broadcast the atrocities that occurred here, he called it a failure.
But what would he say when the Empire fell a second time? What could he say?
The Empire’s foundation was cracking, and I held the hammer. The blow I was about to land would be the epicenter of a massive quake with the power to topple the Sire.
Let it be known that it started here.
Yes, it started with Mmasa. And as Sali had said, it would end with me. I only wish she were here to see it.
My heart pounded with the exertion of the climb. Every heartbeat tightened the tourniquet of pain wrapping my head.
Reaching the top, I bumped my way through shelves and rows of boxes until my hand landed on the chill of steel. With effort, I lowered the object to the floor and felt for seams with my fingers until I managed to find the control panel and pop it open.
I recited the numbers for Pol. <Four . . . three . . . three . . . zero . . . >
<What are you doing, Jakob?>
I kept stating the numbers until I finished punching them in.
Pol’s voice had turned to ice. <That’s the manufacturer’s code for the missile.>
<Still think I’m with the doctor?>
<You’re not as clever as you think, Jakob. I see now how you fooled me into repeating the code over and over until you’d memorized it, but arming a missile isn’t going to get you what you want. Detonating this missile will level the domes, but the people below will survive, and they’ll continue to rule this world. Proceed, and you’ll be nothing more than a terrorist.>
With total concentration, I pictured the interface in my mind as I set the timer for thirty minutes. I had no way to verify success, but I trusted my ability to navigate without sight. I’d been journaling blind for weeks now, and although I suspected my typing abilities left much to be desired, the missile’s interface was so much simpler. All I’d had to do was press timer, three, zero, start. Then yes, yes, yes through the verifications just like the last time I’d set one of these missiles to blow. Except that time I’d gone out of my way to disable the main payload so only the hull-piercing head would detonate. This time I’d unleash the full payload’s destructive power.
Wrapping my arms around the missile, I lifted it upright. Letting the shaft lean into the crook between my neck and shoulder, I squatted low to wedge my fingers under the missile’s tail. I stood, hands cupped under the heaviest end. I felt the strain in my legs and back. Felt it in my shoulder and the way the muscles in my neck stretched like bands.
I felt around with the toe of my boot until it landed on a rope I’d left lying flat on the floor. Like a tightrope walker, I followed the rope’s snaking path through the dome’s cluttered shelves. When the short run of rope ended, I knew the door was sixteen paces dead ahead.
Sweat streamed down my forehead to sting my open eye sockets. My torqued back screamed from the strain. But I kept moving, one agonizing step at a time. Counting step number sixteen, I felt with my toe for the single stair that would drop me outside the dome. Not finding it, I took another step forward. Still not locating it, I took another step and repeated the process.
Don’t change directions, I told myself. If I’d veered off course, I’d hit the wall. Figuring I’d probably been taking shorter paces thanks to the weight of the missile, I kept up my slow forward progress and was rewarded upon finding the stair on step number nineteen.
<I’m taking the missile outside now.>
<The guards will see you.>
<No they won’t. They’re always looking outward. They have no reason to watch the dome. Even if they see me, it will be from a distance, and in the low light of dusk, they’ll see my uniform and think I’m one of the engineers.>
<They’ll see the missile.>
<But they won’t know what it
is. They’ll most likely think it’s a pipe or a piece of conduit—why would they think there’s a missile here?>
I was outside now. I’d turned right but stayed close to the dome wall. My fingers had gone numb with lack of circulation. My head pounded with such ferocity I felt the need to vomit. But I couldn’t stop making my way around the dome.
It was impossible to know exactly where I was, so I stopped every few steps to balance on one foot while reaching for the dome wall with the other. When I made contact, I kept on my path. When I didn’t make contact, I angled to the right to close the gap between me and the dome.
<Nobody has stopped me yet, Pol.>
<Where are you going?>
<I’m between the fourth and third domes now. I’m heading for the water. The ship must be destroyed, or the drones it contains will rain fire on Maritinia.>
<You can’t destroy the ship. The missile won’t fly without its launcher.>
I’d hugged the dome long enough that my current angle had to be aimed at the water. Abandoning the dome wall, I picked up my pace before my back gave out.
<The missile doesn’t have to fly,> I said.
<The ship is floating at least two hundred feet from the atoll. What are you going to do? Throw it?>
Greased by sweat, I felt my handhold on the missile slip from my first finger joints to my second. Accelerating my pace, I couldn’t keep the missile from sliding down to my fingertips. Hustling toward the water, I knew I’d soon have to slow down or risk falling in.
I’d barely finished that thought when my left foot landed on open air. I tried to pull it back, but my balance was already lurching forward. The missile tipped out of my grasp, and I was instantly surrounded by a rush of seawater.
A pain I’d never felt screeched from my ears and eye sockets. Whether from shock or from being locked too long in one position, my arm muscles were slow to react. Sinking, I gasped with fear only to find water rushing into my lungs. My arms unlocked, and I thrashed in a fit of violent choking.
An instinctual kick of my legs thrust me upward. Propelled by a stroke from my arms, I surfaced.
Treading water, I shook my head to get the water from my ears. Forgetting I had no eyes, I instinctively tried to rub the salt out my sockets and sent lightning bolts of pain through my head. I vomited. Then sputtered water from my lungs. Then vomited some more.
<Did you make it to the water yet?>
<I fell in.>
<Where’s the missile?>
<On the ocean bottom?>
He laughed. <A lot of good it will do down there. It’s over, Jakob. You’re a failure.>
No. I couldn’t fail. My destiny wouldn’t allow it. This world’s future depended on me. What I had to do was find my way out of the water. But which way was the atoll?
<Time to call for help before you drown, Jakob. Did you really think you were smart enough to pull off an operation on your own?>
I looked all around as if I could see. I listened for the telltale lap of water on stone as if I could hear. Stretching a hand straight out, I spun myself helplessly round and round. The atoll could be just inches out of reach. Or the current could’ve already sucked me out to sea.
<You’re pathetic, Jakob. You should be proud of what you accomplished in the name of your Sire, but all you do is snivel over your lost love like a stupid teenager.>
The words stung almost as much as the salt water. But I couldn’t think about that now. I had to find the atoll. After slipping off my boots, I picked a direction at random and kicked forward.
<You’re going to drown, Jakob. You fumbled your only weapon away, and now you’re going to drown.>
I continued on my path for five, now ten seconds. Stopping, I turned around to go back the way I’d come.
<The cuda must smell your blood. I wish I could hear you scream when they tear your traitorous body apart.>
I swam with my head raised. Was I getting closer? Farther? Had I properly accounted for drift? Drift in which direction?
I chose another angle. And another. Each failure made my breathing more labored, my swim stroke more desperate.
<You disgust me. What will your father think of you? How could his little boy become such a vile little traitor?>
I kept trying until my arms and legs wearied, and I had to struggle to keep my head above water.
<You still haven’t found the atoll, have you? What kind of idiot starts off a complex operation by blinding and deafening himself?>
Despair took hold. A thick and unforgiving nothingness crept in from all sides. I wasn’t in open water anymore. Unable to see or hear the world around me, I was inside a black box. Crammed into a little hole.
Buried alive.
<Jakob, do everybody a favor and let yourself sink. That way nobody will ever know what you did. This isn’t a time to be selfish. For once in your life, think of others. Think of your father. Live, and he’ll learn of your treason. Live, and you’ll crush a proud old man.>
<I can’t find the atoll.> My words came out absent any emotion. A sure sign that I’d already given up.
<Let yourself sink, and you won’t have to worry anymore. Sali would want you to sink. She knows you’re suffering. She knows you can never forgive yourself for throwing her over the wall. She doesn’t want you to suffer anymore.>
<I can’t sink. The water hurts my eyes.>
<That will only last for a few seconds. Then you’ll find peace. All you have to do is stop moving your arms and legs. Relax, and tranquility will find you.>
I cranked an arm over to slap the water. Then the other arm. <I’m not quitting. I’m going to find it, Pol.>
<Why bother? You’ve already lost the missile. You can’t defeat us. Even if you do make it out of the water, the soldiers will eventually find you, and when they see your condition, you’ll be forced to admit what you’ve done. I won’t let you lie your way out of it. You’ll be executed for treason. Stop swimming. End it now.>
<No.>
<Why not?>
<Because that’s what you want me to do.>
I chose another direction, and something brushed my ankle. Probably a kelp leaf. Then it bumped against my ribs. I stopped swimming and reached with my fingers. Its body was long and solid and ridged with fight scars. It moved gently forward, and my fingers trailed down its flank to a tattered battle flag of a tail.
I spoke aloud. “You’ve come to scold me again, have you?”
It slapped my fingers with what felt like a flick of its tail, and it was gone. I swam after it. Ten, twenty strokes, I stayed true to the line. The water cooled by several degrees, and I knew I had to be swimming through runoff from the water pumps. I’d drifted all the way to Dome 2.
My fingers landed on a stone wall. Reaching up to press my palms flat on the atoll’s stone floor, I summoned up what few reserves of strength I had left and lunged upward, my bare feet scrambling against sharp barnacles until I managed to wiggle my torso onto flat stone.
I stayed that way for a while, my legs dangling in the water, before finding the will to pull myself up the rest of the way.
<I found the atoll. I’m lying on the stone right now.>
<You’ve got quite the survival instinct, Jakob. I’ll give you that. But I’m certain you’ll be found soon, and you won’t escape the executioners.>
I was close to Dome 2, but I needed a better idea of exactly where I was. I stood on tender feet and walked away from the water. Four steps later, I reached a sloped wall textured with smooth, overlapping tiles. The water pumps were on the other side of this wall.
I followed the dome a ways. Far enough that I’d moved a fair distance from the water but not so far that I had passed to the lagoon side of the dome, where a soldier could more easily spot me even though it must be dark by now.
I checked my pocket and was somewhat surprised to
find the comm unit I’d stolen still wedged inside the wet fabric. I doubted it would work after such a long soak, but maybe one day the data could be recovered. I was curious to see if any of the ramblings I’d made in my journal might be worth saving.
<I was never crazy, you know.>
<You plucked your eyes out with fishhooks, Jakob.>
I smiled. <Okay, I might be a bit touched, but I was never as insane as you thought.>
<You must be insane if you thought you could destroy the ship with a missile that can’t fly.>
I took a seat on the stone before responding. <It doesn’t need to fly.>
<You dropped the missile in the water. It probably rolled down the face of the reef all the way to the bottom. It won’t damage the ship from under a hundred feet of water.>
<It will after the divers attach it to the ship.>
His voice turned wary. <What are you talking about?>
<In fact, I was lost in the water so long, the divers have probably already brought the missile to the ship. I wish the divers hadn’t been waiting so deep, or they probably would’ve seen me fall in and helped out.>
<You’re not making any sense, Jakob.>
<You read my story.>
<I read the ravings of a lunatic, yes.>
<I knew you wouldn’t understand it. But the Falali Mother has been trained since she was very young to interpret events and stories. I gave her the story knowing that only she would understand the true meaning.>
<What true meaning?>
<The Sire is the Flesh Eater King. Emmina is the queen who is forced to ally with him in order to protect her people. And I am the new king. I carved out my eyes and drilled into my ears. With my sacrifice, I gave her a choice.>
<What kind of choice?>
<Instead of my leg on a platter, I’ve given her a missile to transport from this island to the Flesh Eater King’s island.>
<From the atoll to the ship.>
<Yes.>
<It won’t work, Jakob. She could’ve interpreted that story a million different ways.>