By Joberg’s standards, the emergency medical clinic offered an uncommonly open design. Most other facilities had cramped halls, high-threshold emergency hatches, and ladders or narrow elevators. In contrast, the clinic offered vast hallways, allowing stretchers to pass in both directions with far fewer emergency hatches than Thulani had expected. Apparently, moving patients freely outweighed the need to seal off a hull breach.

"Mr. Mabaso?" Thulani stood, looking at the nurse who called his name. She looked up from her clipboard and smiled. "If you'd follow me, I'll take you to him."

Thulani crossed over algae-based melamine floors with a veneer resembling wood, a common resource from the surface ages.

How is he doing?" Thulani asked worriedly. Johan had finally woken up from his medically induced coma and could now receive visitors. With Thulani’s mind a storm of uncertainty, he hoped a visit could help him gain clarity.

The nurse glanced back and then contemplated the clipboard as she led them through double doors. Johan sleeps most of the time. The regen therapy has left him exhausted, so he's being medicated for the pain and to help him sleep." The edges of her lips twitched. "When he's awake, he can be —"

"An ass?" Thulani offered.

"Difficult," she agreed.

"Yes." Thulani smiled. "He can be extreme."

The nurse opened a door for Thulani. "Try to finish within a half hour. He needs rest.”

"Sounds good," Thulani thanked the nurse and stepped in. He stopped short when he realized he wasn't the only visitor. An older white woman with a sour expression fixed on her face glared at Thulani suspiciously.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded.

"I'm — I'm a work friend," Thulani stammered, taken aback by the sudden hostility.

The woman pulled a shawl tighter around her shoulder and snorted. "You mean my son has a friend?"

Johan's mother. Johan suddenly made so much more sense.

"Ma'am, your son saved my life many times," Thulani explained. " I was able to return the favor when I dragged him out of a flooding bay."

The hag narrowed her eyes at Thulani. "Shouldn't have bothered. Who knew he could be even more useless," she motioned to the figure in the bed. Johan’s chest rose and fell rhythmically as he slept.

Heat swelled through Thulani's face, his hands curling into fists. "Johan is not worthless," he protested. "He's the bravest man I know. When others gave up at the first sign of hostility, Johan defied the raiders alone."

"Boy's got violence issues like his father," she croaked, visibly taken aback.

"He's a hero," Thulani said. "If you can't see that, maybe you don't know your son."

The woman's eyes hardened, and her lips pressed into a line.

"You act like you don’t care for him, but what are you doing here if that were true?" Thulani asked.

The woman snorted. "Leaving." She grabbed a shoulder-strap purse and pushed past the flustered pod tech, muttering a stream of curses as she left.

Thulani stared, mouth agape. The shared mannerisms between mother and son were as clear as the sun through the shallows. Could he blame Johan for being Johan if that witch was his mother?

He turned to Johan, who slept quietly. Thulani sighed with disappointment. He wanted to thank the man, but he wouldn't wake him. Turning to leave, Thulani stopped himself. Coming all this way just to turn around and leave felt wrong.

Thulani took a chair from the wall and scooted it closer. Their shared nightmare had connected them in a way that he struggled to define. Thulani sat and studied the sleeping man. A thick neck brace concealed the bullet wound. Cocking his head in surprise, Thulani almost didn't recognize Johan, with his face relaxed in slumber. Somehow, Thulani had expected him to glare in his sleep.

"I just wanted to thank you," Thulani said, blushing slightly at the one-sided conversation. "She's wrong, you know. You're not worthless." He leaned forward. "You're a scary guy, you know that, right?" Thulani chuckled. "I don't know if I helped you fight because I feared them or you more."

Of course, Johan didn't respond, but a monitor beeped softly at regular intervals.

"You know, I think I should try to be more like you," Thulani confessed. "Everyone thinks I'm paranoid, and they might be right. I've always seen sharks in the shadows, can't say why. It's just who I am. Kind of like how you're a belligerent domkop." Thulani smiled. "I was always small as a kid. Physically powerless, I think that ingrained in me the need to find danger early and run away.”

A pained chuckle escaped Thulani, an echo of residual panic as he recalled bullets sparking around him and blood on his hands.

"I've never been so inept as when we looked down the enemy's guns. None of the shadows I've run from have been so real. So you defied all my anxiety when you faced it with a wrench and a grin."

Thulani looked at his hands, layered with a memory of phantom blood. "I've been a slave to fear, but you, you're truly free." His hands curled into fists. "I envy your freedom. I want it."

He looked up at Johan's respirator hanging from his nose. Johan had paid for his defiance, but seeing the mechanic made Thulani feel like the fight wasn’t over."I know who's responsible for the attack. When I told my friends and family, they didn’t want to believe me, and if they did, they begged me to ignore it. Thulani, they say, you see a vortex in every ripple. They either don't want to believe me or expect me to be complacent."

Thulani slouched back. "My parents were complacent, content with scraping by and trusting the city. When the economy took a hit, my mom ran off with an outsider, leaving us with dad.” Thulani chuckled painfully. “Dad couldn’t take the stress. He turned to substance to cope until he overdosed. I was sixteen.”

Thulani suppressed a rumble of rage. “I hate complacency,” He hissed. “I cared for my sister, certifying as a pod tech and staying up every night to become a systems tech —” He trailed off, realizing he had gotten off topic.

“I don’t know if my family realizes what it does to me when they tell me to run away, to hide in the coral. 'You're too small; it's too dangerous.'"

Thulani grit his teeth and balled his fists. "I want your freedom, Johan. What would you do?" Thulani chuckled, an absurd image coming to mind. "Probably charge the city hall with a forklift. That obviously wouldn't work, but you act. I hide. Now, the people who care for me are asking me to be complacent andy are encouraging me to hide. I don't know if I can do that. I won’t be a complacent father while my colony murders."

Thulani glanced at a clock on the wall. "I promised my Sister and girlfriend I wouldn’t retaliate. The city emergency disaster after-action review starts in a few hours. If the council doesn't confess their crimes, I don't think I can keep that promise. I can't cower in the kelp. I—"

Johan stirred, his eyes cracking open, and he glared toward his visitor. "Thulani?" He croaked with drug-induced grogginess."

"You're awake!" Thulani gasped. "Johan, I —"

"Where's my wrench?"

Thulani recoiled, unprepared for the question. "Wrench — I left it in the flooded bay."

Johan snorted. "Idiot." His eyelids drooped, and he snored softly.

Thulani blinked dumbly and then grinned. The pod tech rose. "I'll avenge you, friend."

********

Thulani weaved between two groups gathering for the assembly. Snaking through the crowd, he almost made it to the steel fence barricade separating the public from the reporters. Practically, the entire police department acted as a second barrier between the press and the city hall steps.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Thulani noticed the news logos on most of the equipment with interest — The Joberg Oceanic Bulletin. The council sponsored the Bulletin, making it the predominant voice in the media. The likes of Mosa Sello, the late conspiracy theorist, acted as deviant voices but lacked a platform or reach through sanctioned hardline channels. When the council broadcasted to the city, they usually worked through the Bulletin.

Police lined the bottom of the steps. At the top, in front of the city hall’s massive access hatch, a podium supported a dozen microphones. Projectors cast the stand to a massive drop-down screen directly over the podium, giving a clear view to the attendees in the back.

Thulani stared at the setup. The girls had planned to watch the assembly at home as it would be broadcast to every hardline terminal in the city, but Thulani wanted to witness their faces in person.

In hushed tones, Mr. Vermeulan chatted with the other four councilmen at the top of the stairs. Councilwoman Madaline nodded to her compatriots, and Thabo Mokaena, a strong-faced, dark-skinned man, muttered into a remote radio instead of a wired hardline com. Thabo, being in charge of city security, nodded down at Balthazar Verhoef, the chief of police, at the bottom of the steps. Both Councilman Thabo and Chief Verhoef promoted a heavy-handed stance on crime and managed every licensed weapon in the city.

Thulani's suspects, murderers, and conspirators conversed casually, ignorant that Thulani studied each of them.

Madaline Miller stepped up to the podium, smoothing papers before her, and the crowd hushed.

"My dearest colony men," she started, her voice rich and assuring. "I open this city emergency disaster after action review with a heavy heart, a heart that bears the loss of loved ones, personal wounds, and damaged homes. We haven't had a day so cold in decades. It's easy to forget where we live in the dark, in the abyssal depths, but we have been reminded."

Reminded by you, Thulani thought venomously.

"On Thursday, May second, One Hundred Eighty-Five, two cruiser-class pirate war subs launched raiding pods to pillage and steal. They struck, hoping for an easy target, but things escalated when an unknown resistance group met them in force. As you all know, our policy with pirates is compliance unless you're a licensed security officer working under Chief Verhoef. This melee triggered a chain of events leading to the death of three hundred and twelve individuals citywide."

Thulani's eyes flicked to Mr. Vermeulan, stoically poised at the top of the steps. Was this resistance part of the conspiracy or in defiance of it?

"We don't know if this resistance was an underworld organization or was born of panic, but it led to a travesty. If you fought these outsiders instead of complying, we understand, but come forward with your story so we can better understand the events that transpired."

Thulani realized he qualified and recoiled. They were looking for Mandla's group, which was long gone, but Thulani had resisted with Johan.

"If you know anything about this militia, please give your statements to the police. We're no different from the chaos outside if we don't trust our duly appointed government officials."

Trust? Like when Thulani never saw a single police officer until after the fighting.

"Now we labor to repair the damage done; we are patching hull breaches and pumping water, but we can never replace those we lost. Many departments have been set back, but we ask you to continue helping us get all departments back operational. We are installing measures to ensure this never happens again. Advanced warning systems will alert us if they should come back. We're expanding our law enforcement department to lead us safely through future disasters. We are committed to Joberg’s security moving forward."

Councilwoman Miller's eyes shimmered, and a tear trailed down her pale cheek.

Thulani's throat tightened, and he almost surged forward in the crowd. Who was that tear for? Was it for Thshebo or any of the other three hundred and twelve dead? No, it was for the cameras. Madaline Miller's perfect soft face and golden hair masked the council's atrocities.

"We will not and can not forget the lives lost to this tragedy. In these coming weeks, please reach out to those who have experienced loss and support them. Reach out to me if you have been so affected. My door is open. Together, we persevere.

“The day is cold, but this trying time will not defeat us but bring us together. Like the geothermal vents our ancestors built this city on, we burn in the icy depths, forging a warmer future together. Thank you."

Next to Thulani, a man whooped and whistled, and a group of teens cheered, all quickly drowned by applause.

Thulani stared at Mr. Vermeulan, his hands defiantly unmoving at his sides in protest to the clapping.

Mr. Vermulan appraised the crowd but froze when he met Thulani's eyes.

I see you. Thulani thought. Stiff as a shipwreck jutting from waving seaweed among the cheering crowd.

Mr. Vermeulan's eyes narrowed, curiously at first, then taking on a new edge.

Thulani tunned and pushed his way through the press of bodies. He wouldn't stay for the Q&A. He knew everything he needed. He could not keep his promise to Olivia and Nandi. Thulani didn’t understand the dynamic between the council if all, some, or even any were directly involved, but he would deliver the evidence to the city.

********

"Lieutenant," Stefanus, the salesman, said to Botha. "Last chance, tell your men to stand down."

A drop of sweat ran down Lieutenant's face, the restraints preventing him from wiping it away. Blood loss and nerves left the captive white as bone. He shook his head. "I can't."

Stefanus sighed and shrugged to Mandla apologetically. "Can't get them all."

"Mandla," Jabulani said from the security panel. "One group got through their hatch and joined another. There are now eight total in that group."

Mandla cursed. He couldn't allow them to consolidate into a significant force. Mandla grabbed the subside com receiver and then paused. He was no good at this part. "Stefanus," He proffered the receiver. "Want a second chance to make a sale?"

Stefanus brightened, nodded thoughtfully, and accepted the radio. "To what end, surrender?" He asked, seeking clarity on his pitch.

"Turncoats," Mandla said. "Flip them if you can."

"Who are we?" Stefanus asked. "We'll want to seem more organized and official."

"Shark grins," Mandla said, pulling out his scarf mask.

"Nah, sounds like a gang; we need to be military. Let's try Joberg Defense Corps?"

"Whatever you think, Stefanus," Mandla said dismissively.

Stefanus nodded, took a breath, and compressed the PTT. "Sailors and marines of this pirate vessel, this is Chief Petty Officer Fourie speaking of the Joberg Defense Corps. We have taken your control room, killed and captured your commanding officers, and seized control of your ship. Luckily, we aren't so brutal as to murder helpless citizens. I have no doubt many among you wish to leave that life behind. Surrender, and you'll be spared to be released at the nearest port, or we may even have a spot for you in our ranks. No doubt you've been taught to be honorable, but I assure you, the Coral Corsairs are common pirates. Join us and live. Refuse, and you'll be flushed. I speak on Commodore Mandla Zwane's authority."

Mandla cocked an eyebrow as Stefanus released the PTT. "Commodore? That's quite the promotion, isn't it, Chief Petty Officer?"

Stefanus blushed. "We control the narrative here, sir."

"We have motion, Commodore." Mbeki snickered from the surveillance panel. The short man was all arms and legs, with a tiny torso. Mandla crossed over and looked at the camera feeds. He saw Team Leader Leila work with a pair of her men through one. In another, a pair of Corsairs waved both arms at the camera soundlessly.

"Botha," Mandla said. “Who are these guys?"

Andries, the medic, led the prisoner to the panel.

On the screen in the room of eight men, one of them ripped the camera off the wall, reducing the footage to a sectioned square of static.

"Who are these two?" Mandla asked the Lieutenant, pointing to the two flagging the camera. One was a lengthy white guy, the other much shorter and black.

Botha nodded in recognition. "Francois and Lesago."

"You think they want to switch?" Mandla asked.

Botha considered whether to be helpful but succumbed to his captor's easier requests. "Undoubtedly, they were both recently demoted for refusing to Raid Joberg. They hated Captain Molefe." Botha made a point not to glance at the Captain, dead on the ground only feet away.

"Can we get to them without crossing elsewhere?"

Botha studied the rooms, piecing the route in his head. "You have to go through that room with the four guys in the bottom left," He said, jerking his head rather than pointing with a restrained hand. "But you can bypass it through the empty room one left on the second from the bottom row, but you'll need to go through a smuggling hatch."

"Jabulani, go get them." Mandla dismissed his second team leader with the prisoner. Botha could be leading them into a trap, but Mandla doubted that. Lieutenant Botha played his hand neutrally. Unwilling to commit to siding with Mandla, he seemed more comfortable in handcuffs, helpful enough for mercy if Mandla was victorious, but with an alibi should the Jobergians lose.

Mandla didn't wait long before Jabulani and Botha returned with two corsairs. The white one was tall, with boxy shoulders that paired awkwardly with his thinner arms. His shorter companion was dark-skinned. He glanced around the room with big, nervous eyes, his head oddly oblong.

"Identify yourself for Commodore Zwane," Stefanus barked.

The men snapped to attention. "Able Seaman Lesego, Lebitso," the short one responded.

"Able Seaman Francois Pretorius," the tall one said.

"Not anymore," Mandla said. "You're now Petty Officers. Look over the security panel, and help us find those we can switch reliably."

Surprised, the men glanced at each other and crossed to the security panel.

"We can trust Lungile." Lesego tapped a room with a lone occupant.

"Mavinus would switch," Francois said, “but he's with Lekota. Lekota will be your biggest problem. He's a zealot. He'd go down with the sub before letting you take it."

Mandla studied the man identified as Lekota. He conspired with a group of five.

"There's a group of eight here," Mandla said, tapping a fuzzy screen where the men had ripped off the camera. They bypassed one locked-down hatch already.

The pair consulted each other momentarily. "If that group is so motivated, it's probably Dingane and Hugo; we must keep them away from Lekota," Lesego said, his nervous eyes hardening.

"Wang, Rudalph, and Imani will swing your way quickly, but they'll turn the other way just as fast. Keep your eye on them. They're opportunists," Francois volunteered.

"Map this out," Mandla said, unable to retain the new names.

"Lekota can meet up with this group through a smuggling hatch," Francois warned.

"Map out hidden hatches as well. Come up with a plan to get as many of them as possible before they get to us.

"Mandla," Andries said from the command chair. "One of the hatches just got manually overridden.”

The eight men poured into a new chamber on the security feed, thankfully empty.

"Yes," Francois affirmed. "Dingane and Hugo are leading that group."

A man rushed to the camera, clearly showing a balding man's sneer. The picture fuzzed out as he ripped it off.

"That was Hugo," Lesego offered.

"That room leads to the cafeteria," Francois indicated, "with a smuggling hatch straight to Lekota."

Mandla twisted experimentally, gauging that his medication sufficiently numbed his wound. "Jabulani, prepare your men; we have little time."