sure meaning?” Gold-Eye replied nervously. The school machines in the Dorm gave you electric shocks if you gave the wrong answer more than once. And Shade was sort of a school machine too…
“You have to learn to fight!” Shade said, stabbing his forefinger at Gold-Eye. “Much of what you will do here will be learning. Learning how to fight the Overlords’ creatures, learning combat skills. And learning for its own sake too. English – where I think you need some work. History. Science. We must preserve and use knowledge in human minds, Gold-Eye. Not just on disks and tapes and in books. Knowledge must be used! Used first to fight the Overlords, of course. Active in mind and body, that’s the ticket. Do you have any questions?”
The sudden question, on top of a monologue that was largely meaningless to Gold-Eye, shook the boy. Once again, he looked from side to side like a frightened rabbit and his mouth opened soundlessly.
“No? You should always have questions, Gold-Eye. Asked in their proper turn, but there should always be questions. Now, what are we going to do with you?”
“Do with me?” asked Gold-Eye, voice squeaking almost as high as Drum’s. That was the phrase the Overlords’ voices spoke on Sad Birthdays, when these enigmatic beings came to oversee the latest crop of fourteen-year-olds, checking the collated school and physical reports to see if the person’s brain, nerves and muscle were to be used in Winger, Myrmidon, Tracker, Screamer or Ferret.
“Ah. Apologies,” said Shade, smiling that brilliant white smile again. “I mean, what are you going to do right now? Do you remember how to get back through the Sub to the changing room?”
“Y-y-es,” stuttered Gold-Eye, getting to his feet, relief making his muscles so shaky that he clutched at the armrest for support.
“Go back there,” said Shade. He seemed to think for a moment, then said, “Sim will meet you there and show you where you will sleep and so on…”
He stopped as Gold-Eye raised his hand again nervously, arm shaking.
“New person?” asked Gold-Eye anxiously. “Not Ella, Drum, Ninde?”
“Sim looks after everyone new here. He’ll show you the ropes… show you how things are done,” Shade replied. “But… yes… I think you will work with Ella’s team. Your precognitive talent, your seeing things in the ‘soon-to-benow’ will be a useful addition to that team.
“So. You will go and meet Sim now. He will guide you through the Sub and fit you out with the standard equipment. You will then return here. I want to record your experience of escaping the Dorms before… before you go out again tomorrow. After that, you will report to Ella, and perhaps there will be time for a lesson before sleep. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” said Gold-Eye.
“Good,” replied Shade. He leaned forward and made a fluttering motion with his right hand. “You may go.”
Gold-Eye needed no encouraging. The lights still hadn’t come back on, but the image of Shade himself gave off enough light for him to find the hatch. As it clanged shut behind him, he let out a small sigh of relief – then jumped in panic, hitting his head, as Shade’s voice echoed through the corridor.
“I forgot to say something, Gold-Eye,” the disembodied voice whispered from roof and floor and walls.
“Welcome aboard.”
After a single, bewildering night in the Submarine, Gold-Eye found himself outside again soon after dawn the next morning. Under the finger wharf, up to his armpits in extremely cold sea water.
This time his rags were gone, replaced with the dark-green coveralls the others wore. From his wide leather belt a sword and other equipment hung, including a length of rope, added to the basic equipment after the team’s recent experience. His hair was also greatly changed; he had practically none left. Just a thin layer of fuzz remained after an electric razor had removed months of hair and matted dirt.
Ella, Drum and Ninde were there too. Uncharacteristically quiet, in Ninde’s case. She stood as far away from Drum and Ella as she could and didn’t look up at anyone.
They waded in silence to the drain entrance, where Drum helped everybody up from below and then clambered up himself with the assistance of all three pulling on one thigh-like arm.
“OK,” said Ella, taking out her Myrmidon witchlight and squeezing it on. “Flashlights on? All working? Good. Now, we’re going to take the Main Drain to the Main Junction, then South Drain Twelve. We’ll have to count manholes from the junction – Ninde, I want you to do that to check me. We’ll exit at manhole twenty-seven, which is inside the University grounds.
“If we get separated for any reason, you’ve got two choices. If you’re not hurt and you think everyone else will make it, aim for the South Drain Twelve rendezvous. Otherwise, return to the Sub and report to Shade. Any questions?”
“Yes,” said Gold-Eye, mindful of Shade’s instruction that it was good to have questions. “How tell which drain?”
“Good question,” said Ella. “I forgot you’re new. Look over here.”
She walked a little further up the drain, adjusting her stance to the curve of the tunnel and the patches of ambitious green slime that left the water to climb up the walls. About ten feet in from the entrance, she held the witchlight up to illuminate a bronze plaque.
Looking closer, Gold-Eye saw that it read, ADIT 10 EAST. PCW.
“Ten East is what we call the Main Drain,” explained Ella. “It leads to the Main Junction – which we’ll pass through – and becomes Ten West. For all the other drains, we use the exact names on these bronze plates – which are always this high and located about this far in from any junction or outfall. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” confirmed Gold-Eye, with a noticeable rise in confidence. He’d thought they all just memorised the entire storm-water drain grid and had extraordinary senses of direction – even down here in the dark, watery corridors.
“OK. Check swords,” said Ella, drawing hers half out of the sheath to make sure it ran free. The others copied her action, Gold-Eye somewhat nervously. He’d been given it the night before by Sim, the cheerful older boy who seemed to look after an awful lot on the Sub, not just new arrivals.
Gold-Eye had had half an hour of practice with the sword the night before, but it was still the sharpest, heaviest weapon he’d ever handled. The steel blade was etched with gold in swirly lines that Sim had said “disrupt the creatures’ electromagnetic nervous systems.” He’d laughed and nodded when Gold-Eye had asked, “Does that help kill him?”
“Everybody ready?” asked Ella as Gold-Eye finally managed to put his sword back into the sheath. “OK. I’ll go first – then Ninde – then Gold-Eye. Drum, you take rear guard. Let’s go!”
Her words echoed into the dark tunnel ahead and were lost in the soft burble of the descending waters. The four followed the echo,
