The Godwhale (S.F. Masterworks) by T. J. Bass

Author:T. J. Bass [Bass, T. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
ISBN: 9780575130135
Publisher: Orion Publishing Group
Published: 2014-03-13T07:00:00+00:00

8

Deep Cult

Opal changed Clam’s bandage. The teeth marks in his forearm had become purulent. Cloudy fluids oozed, odours foul, fevers hot and cold. The arm was swollen to twice its size. Fingers could not move.

Sister White Belly stared into Clam’s glazed eyes. ‘He doesn’t know me!’ she wailed. ‘We must go up to the beach and build a fire. He needs hot broth. We must boil the dressings more thoroughly. This dome’s hot spot just can’t produce enough heat.’

Opal shook her head. ‘The Hive has too many ships Outside. We couldn’t hide a fire from them.’

‘But Clam is dying. He smells bad.’

‘We’ll have to amputate; remove the dead tissue. Go for the Listener. He has had experience in these matters.’

Young White Belly brooded as she swam to Halfway. Listener nodded as she described Clam’s injury – livid, purple skin, dusky grey punctures, orange serous drainage.

‘Clostridia!’

They swam quickly to the dome where Big Har and Opal had spread out the cutting tools. Clam’s toxic condition kept his mind wandering through old memories – battles and love affairs. He was unaware of Listener’s hands on his swollen arm.

‘There may still be time,’ said the shaggy old Benthic. ‘Notice how the finger pulps blanch on pressure. Then they pink up. The capillary beds haven’t clotted yet. If we can get him down four more levels the increased oxygen might kill off the organisms. Clostridia is an anaerobic bacillus. Oxygen kills it.’

‘Four levels? The squeeze?’ said Opal.

Listener nodded. ‘We’ll have to hurry. CLAM!’ He slapped his face ‘CLAM!! Can you hear me? We are going to move you. Hold your breath.’

They dragged the delirious male from bubble to bubble as they descended into the abyss.

‘Don’t come any farther,’ cautioned Listener. ‘We don’t want to risk the fits and giggles. I’ll take Clam down to that dome on the left. He’ll have plenty of air and fresh water. If he isn’t better in twelve hours there is nothing more we can do.’

White Belly and her parents watched from the level-eight umbrella while Clam was towed down another ten fathoms and into a pale glowing dome. A few minutes later a humanoid butterfly visited the deep dome. It had wide lacy wings – one of the Deep Cult that lived off the Benthics’ offerings. Opal tugged White Belly back to the upper level.

‘We must stay home for a day after visiting the squeeze or the pops will get us,’ said Opal. ‘Then you must do Clam’s chores. He was harvesting South Reef. But beware of Leviathan.’

White Belly pushed away a curious fifteen-pound fish – one of the basses with pale yellow and brown blotches on its back.

‘I’ll be careful. What was that big creature on the Leviathan that bit Clam – another Benthic?’

Opal shook her head. ‘No, child. It was not one of our people. Listener says it was an ARNOLD. The Hive can build people as easily as you or I can draw their pictures. Before you were born – the Hive designed a warrior to fight Clam.

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