The Beast of Cretacea

Seeing her heartache, Ishmael can no longer resist the obligation he feels toward the old man he left back in Black Range: “I know this is none of my business, but have you been in touch with anyone back on Earth lately? I get the feeling that things aren’t so good.”

  “I’ve been assured that he’ll be well cared for.” Grace waves at the nets and ropes and winches. “This is no way for a child of his age to live. No friends. Nothing to do but work. Where he’s going he’ll have access to . . . certain advantages. Once he experiences them, he may find he wants more from life than this.”

  Ishmael feels a prickly sensation spread over him. Certain advantages? Is she saying what he thinks she’s saying — that Benjamin really is of the Gilded?

  By midafternoon, the Pequod is in sight. From a distance it resembles a huge reddish-brown-and-black-striped creature. Crewmen line the railings. The drone returns and circles the trawler watchfully.

  Grace tells Benjamin to get his things. The boy wrinkles his nose angrily but does what he’s told. As soon as he disappears belowdecks, his mother rubs tears out of her eyes. Earlier in the day she’d told Ishmael that her husband, Benjamin’s father, was washed overboard in a storm when Benjamin was still a toddler. That must make sending her son to Earth even more wrenching.

  A chase boat is lowered from the Pequod and starts toward them. Among the crew Ishmael spots bright-yellow hair and a familiar hulking figure: Daggoo and Bunta, together again. Thanks to the drones, they must know by now that he’s aboard the pinkboat. Is that why they volunteered to be part of the welcome party?

  “Will you keep an eye on my son?” Grace asks, her voice almost breaking.

  All at once, Ishmael knows he can’t hold back any longer. The battle that has raged in his conscience has abruptly ended. He has to tell her the truth.

  “Don’t send him back,” he blurts out. “It’s bad back there, where Benjamin is going. You need to keep him here, with you.”

  Grace’s eyes widen, then narrow. “I don’t know what business it is of yours, but I told you, he’s got people who’ll look after him. He’ll be all right.”

  “He won’t!” Ishmael insists. “Listen to me! Something goes wrong when you send him back. I can’t explain it, but I’m telling you the truth. He isn’t going where you think — or even when you think. The Earth he’s going to is dying, and he’s going to die right along with it!”

  Her expression hardens. “You can’t possibly know that. He has to go.”

  The chase boat is a hundred yards away now — close enough for Ishmael to see that Starbuck is also on board.

  He takes a breath and lets it out in a rush: “Please, Grace, just listen. I know it sounds crazy, but . . . I knew Benjamin back on Earth. In a bad place called Black Range. Only he wasn’t a boy then. He was an old man who’d lived a very hard, very sad life. And before I left for Cretacea, he told me about you. He made me promise I wouldn’t let you send him back. ‘Don’t let Grace rendezvous with the Pequod. . . . Lives are at stake.’ That’s what he told me. And I promised him I wouldn’t. So you can’t do it, Grace. I beg you!”

  While the chase boat draws closer and closer, Grace stares at him, uncomprehending. Finally, her demeanor softens. “I don’t think I realized what an ordeal it must have been for you lost at sea,” she says gently. “Enough to undo even the toughest of men. You’ll feel better once the ship’s surgeon takes a look at you.”

  Ishmael glances back at the approaching vessel, his heart beating madly. If Grace won’t listen, then he’s going to have to find another way to stop her.

  He climbs up on the trawler’s transom and jumps.

  Ishmael swims until the chase boat is within shouting distance, then waves to make sure they see him. “Don’t go near the pinkboat! It’s infected!”

  As soon as they hear him, Daggoo and Bunta turn to Starbuck. Ishmael sees the first mate’s lips move. The chase boat slows but continues to approach, with Daggoo and Bunta kneeling at the gunwale.

  Starbuck steps into the bow. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, boy. The bio scans are the same as always. Completely normal.”

  The chase boat stops, and Daggoo and Bunta grab Ishmael’s hands and pull him from the ocean. “Then it must be some kind of infection the scanning isn’t picking up, sir,” Ishmael says, dripping. “Are you really willing to risk it?”

  Starbuck tilts his head uncertainly. “What are the symptoms?” he asks.

  Ishmael’s had no time to prepare an answer. He twists around and looks at the trawler, where Grace stands with her hands on the transom, slowly shaking her head.

  “Well?” Starbuck demands impatiently.

  “You have to believe me, sir,” Ishmael blathers. “I wouldn’t lie to you. It’s bad.”

  The first mate picks up a pair of binoculars and aims them at the pinkboat.

  “What should I do, sir?” the chase boat’s skipper asks.

  Starbuck lowers the binoculars. “Proceed as planned.”

  “But, sir!” Ishmael begins. “Didn’t you hear what I —”

  “That’s enough!” Starbuck silences him. “I don’t know what sort of game you’re playing, boy, but there’s a considerable transport fee at stake, and we’re in no position to refuse it. What were you doing on that trawler, anyway? We saw the drone imagery of the pirates getting you.”

  “It’s a long story, sir.”

  “I hope it’s better than this one,” the first mate says, gesturing with his binoculars at the healthy-looking captain of the pinkboat in the distance. “And while you’re telling stories, what of Pip and Queequeg?”

  “The pirates still have Queequeg, sir. And Pip made some kind of deal with them. I . . . I assumed he was back on the Pequod.”

  Starbuck shakes his head, and again looks through the binoculars at the trawler.

  “Seriously, sir, you don’t want to go near them.”

  The first mate exhales an exasperated sigh. “One more word out of you, and I’ll have you gagged.”

  When Ishmael stares a moment too long at the light machine gun mounted in the stern, Daggoo “ahems” loudly.

  Starbuck turns and immediately grasps the situation. “Aw, for the sea’s sweet sake! Tie his hands and keep an eye on him.”

  And so Ishmael’s hands are bound behind his back and he’s placed beside Bunta.

  A few moments later, they come alongside the trawler.

  “How you feeling, sweetheart?” Starbuck asks Grace, then jerks his thumb at Ishmael. “Sailor boy here claims you’ve got some rare disease.”

  “I’m afraid he’s spent too much time in the sun,” Grace replies.

  “So where’d you find him?” Starbuck asks, while Daggoo hops on board and unties the lines holding Chase Boat Four.

  “Half dead and floating in the middle of nowhere. He’s delusional. If I were you, I’d keep him bound until you get him to the ship’s surgeon.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Starbuck says. “Where’s the passenger for transport?”

  “I’ll get him.”

  While Grace heads belowdecks, Daggoo brings the bowline of Chase Boat Four back and they secure it to a cleat. Starbuck looks at Ishmael. “That story about her finding you true?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Awful big ocean to just run into someone.”

  Ishmael shrugs. “Guess it was meant to be, sir.” He glances at the pinkboat, feeling the seconds slip away. “I know you don’t want to hear this, sir, but you can’t send the boy back to Earth. Something goes wrong when you do. He doesn’t —”

  “Mother of Terrafins!” Bunta jumps up and shouts.

  Everyone in the chase boat stands to see. Out beyond the pinkboat’s bow, a huge white mass has appeared on the surface.

  The chase boat’s engine roars to life as the skipper quickly prepares to depart.

  “Wait!” Starbuck shouts.

  On the pinkboat, Grace comes abovedecks with Benjamin, and catches the stunned expressions on the faces
of the chase-boat crew. When she sees what they’re staring at, her eyes go wide. “Take him! Now!” She grabs the startled boy, lifts him over the transom, and thrusts him into Starbuck’s arms.

  “Grace!” Benjamin screams and struggles, but the Pequod’s first mate holds him while Grace dashes into the pinkboat’s wheelhouse.

  “Go!” Starbuck shouts at the chase-boat skipper, who jams the craft into gear. With his hands bound behind him, Ishmael starts to tumble backward over the gunwale. At the last conceivable instant, Bunta yanks him back into the chase boat, pushing him down onto a seat.

  Towing Chase Boat Four, they rocket back toward the Pequod, where the cargo rope is being lowered over the side.

  “What’s she doing?” Daggoo is staring behind them. All faces turn toward the Great Terrafin and the pinkboat chugging toward it, looking like a small plaything in comparison.

  “Saving our skins,” Starbuck grimly replies.

  The davit hooks are already plummeting down when the chase boats draw alongside the Pequod’s hull. Except for Ishmael — who’s still transfixed by the sight of the pinkboat heading toward the enormous terrafin — those aboard begin to scale the cargo rope as fast as they can. Bunta carries a whimpering Benjamin with one arm while hauling himself up with the other.

  “Hey!” Ishmael shouts when he realizes he’s been left behind. His hands are still tied.

  Halfway up the rope, Daggoo hesitates, then starts to descend. “Don’t say I never did anything nice for you, pinkie.”

  After Daggoo unties Ishmael, they both begin to climb the cargo rope. The Pequod increases power and starts to come about, propellers churning. Ishmael looks over his shoulder and sees that Grace has positioned the pinkboat between the Great Terrafin and the Pequod. She stands in the stern, and Ishmael knows she’s been watching her son, making sure he gets safely on board the larger ship.

  Ishmael reaches the bulwark and feels hands grab and pull him over. Two of those hands belong to Gwen, and it’s a surprise and a relief to see that she’s okay.

  The sailors at the Pequod’s rail silently stare at the scene unfolding before them. On the pinkboat’s deck, Grace has turned to face the giant creature. It’s a strange, eerie moment. Even Benjamin is quiet. Why, Ishmael wonders, has the Great Terrafin surfaced in full view of both vessels?

  The answer comes with terrible swiftness: One of the creature’s enormous tails arcs over its body and smashes through the trawler’s rigging, knocking Grace to the deck.

  “Grace!” Benjamin screams, renewing his struggle against Bunta’s grasp.

  Shouts of horror rise from the Pequod’s deck while the Great Terrafin strikes again and again, thrashing the pinkboat with its tails. Remarkably, Grace is uninjured. She struggles to her feet and tries to get into the wheelhouse.

  Crash! A white tail smashes down, and Grace is again thrown to the deck.

  Crash! This time, the Great Terrafin crushes the wheelhouse.

  Ishmael feels overcome with guilt and anguish. Was this why Old Ben wanted him to stop Grace from rendezvousing with the Pequod? Not to change the course of his life, but to save hers? Ishmael’s stomach tightens with regret. He should have tried harder to keep the pinkboat from meeting them, he should have —

  The crowd on the deck begins to part. Step, clank, step, clank . . . Ahab quickly limps through, headed for the big harpoon cannon in the bow.

  Crash! A tail smashes down on the pinkboat’s stern, tearing away part of the transom. Crash! Another blow rips away a large piece of rail. It appears that the huge creature is intent on bashing the trawler to bits.

  “Grace!” Benjamin screams again and again, twisting and fighting so frantically that Charity and Tashtego must come to Bunta’s aid in restraining him.

  The crew watch in horror while the great beast pulverizes the pinkboat. Grace has vanished from sight, while from out of nowhere a frenzy of red-tipped gray fins cuts excitedly through the floating debris. Ishmael can see the dark, streamlined shapes of creatures racing below.

  “Big-tooths,” a sailor says soberly.

  Benjamin no longer shrieks and thrashes. He has fallen heartbreakingly mute.

  By now Ahab has positioned himself behind the harpoon cannon. The Pequod has come about and is headed toward the scattered remains of the pinkboat, whose bow is still visible, poking up through the debris, and the enormous monster just beyond it.

  Boom! The huge harpoon explodes out of the cannon with such force that Ishmael feels the percussive clap in his chest.

  Thwack! It’s a hit! The harpoon buries itself deep in one of the Great Terrafin’s wings.

  Instantly, the immense creature vanishes into the depths, and heavy red line begins whipping off the Pequod’s forecastle.

  The sailors press against the ship’s rail, watching.

  Suddenly nearly all of them are thrown off their feet when the Pequod’s bow is yanked around.

  Bang! At the loud crack, Ishmael looks for someone with a gun . . . until he realizes that the sound was from the snapping of the thick harpoon rope.

  A quarter mile away, the Great Terrafin bursts out of the water, the huge harpoon jutting from its back and a long length of red line trailing behind it.

  The Pequod floats silently. The sailors slowly get to their feet. Green-haired Marion is the first to speak. “Did you feel how it pulled the bow around? Like this ship was nothing but a tin can.”

  “That harpoon line was supposed to be unbreakable, but the beast snapped it with one good yank,” mutters Flask.

  “Maybe it’s a beast that’s not meant to be captured.” Tashtego adjusts his belt around his belly. “Maybe that was a warning of what it’ll do to us if we don’t leave off.”

  But not all aboard agree. Already Ahab is shouting up to the bridge: “Hard to port! Hard to port!”

  The Pequod begins to churn to the left, away from the wreckage of the pinkboat, toward the direction taken by the Great Terrafin.

  Benjamin screams and starts to struggle again. “Wait! Grace! We can’t leave her!”

  Ishmael pushes through the crowd of sailors and plants himself in Ahab’s path. “With all due respect, sir, what about the pinkboat captain?”

  With a manic look in his eyes, Ahab hardly appears to see him. “Out of my way, sailor.”

  But Ishmael stands his ground. “The woman could have survived, sir. She could still be out there. You can’t just —”

  Smack! Ishmael stumbles to the side, the skin of his cheek burning from the sharp backhand blow.

  “I said, out of my way!” Ahab bellows. “This is my ship, and that”— he points in the direction the beast has gone —“is my terrafin!”

  Step, clank, step, clank. The captain starts toward the superstructure. Propelled by guilt over Grace and by the conviction that Ahab will see them all killed before he’ll admit defeat, Ishmael jumps to his feet to try again, but hands grab him from behind.

  When he twists around, Ishmael finds himself looking at his reflection in Starbuck’s round black glasses.

  “It’s not worth it, boy,” the first mate warns gravely. “Believe me.”

  “But he’s —”

  Starbuck clamps a hand over Ishmael’s mouth. “Listen carefully, boy. Even if Grace had somehow survived that thrashing, the big-tooths got her for sure. There’s nothing left to be done, understand?”

  Ishmael breathes heavily against the first mate’s palm. Starbuck gradually loosens his grip, not sure whether to trust him. But Ishmael doesn’t move.

  Starbuck drops his hand and studies him. “You okay?”

  No, I’m not okay. I’m never going to be “okay” as long as I’m on this insane ship. Ishmael looks at the crowd of sailors who are slowly returning to their regular chores. “Where’s the boy?”

  “Charity took him down to the stasis lab.”

  By the time Ishmael gets down to the lab, Charity has already closed the pod and sealed the chamber. She and Gwen are in the control room behind the clear me
tallic-alloy window. Tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth, Charity is concentrating on a screen displaying bars of different colors.

  “He just watched his mother die, and you’re sending him away?” Ishmael asks, incredulous.

  “Got a better suggestion?” Charity says. “Keep him here on this ship while that madman chases his terrafin? At least on Earth, there are people who’ll take care of him.” She moves her finger over the screen. In the chamber, the pod begins to glow. Watching through the window, Ishmael feels a deep sense of helplessness. Benjamin is going to Earth to grow into a miserable, decrepit old man. And now he feels responsible for destroying not one, but two, lives — the boy’s and Grace’s.

  “You’re sure you sent him to the right place?” Ishmael asks. Maybe it’s not too late to correct the mistakes of the past.

  “I’m sending him to Earth, honey. Hard to get that one wrong.”

  “But I mean, you’re sure about where on Earth . . .”

  Charity swivels around to look at him. “What’s your concern?”

  “I —” He catches himself. If he tells her what he knows about the future, she’ll think he’s crazy. Just like Grace did.

  “No worries, honey. The science might not be perfect, but I’m pretty good at hitting my targets. Anyway, too late to fret about it. The flyer’s in the fryer, as they say.”

  The three of them stare through the window into the stasis chamber, where the pod continues to grow brighter. The control room goes quiet until Ishmael’s eyes meet Gwen’s.

  “How did you make it here after the pirates attacked us?” he asks. “I thought Ahab never goes back for men overboard.”

  Gwen smirks. “He does if your name’s Pippin Lopez-Makarova. They sent the tender to look for him and found me instead.”

  “Starbuck told me Pip never came back to the ship,” Ishmael says. “Any idea what happened to him?”

  “We assumed he was with you all this time.” Charity slides her finger across the screen. Ishmael wonders if, now that Pip’s had a taste of the perils of life on Cretacea, he’s been whisked off to someplace safer.