Deluge

CHAPTER 17

RONAN’S STRUGGLES WITH the net ended when his head knocked against the side of the boat.

Dimly, he heard Murel calling him, but he could not answer. Then the calling stopped, as did all other impressions until he found himself awake, on a beach, naked and in human form, surrounded by feet both bare and booted.

“The freak’s waking up,” someone said, half threatening and half scared.

“Let’s throw it back in the water again and watch it change back,” someone else said.

“Are you kidding? The old bat would kill us if we let him go. As it is, extra rations all around.”

“And a promotion for me,” a girl said. Ronan looked up into Kai’s triumphant face. “I’m the one who helped catch him. If I catch his sister too, I’ll get off this planet and have a berth aboard a ship before the rest of you finish basic training.”

Ronan scanned the faces around him while keeping his own as still as he could, trying not to give anything away. Rory was there, his expression also carefully blank. Kai was the only one of the Kanaka kids in the crowd. Ronan had never seen any of the others, who were mostly older and wore, in addition to their camp tunics, bits of Corps uniforms. Among them stood adult soldiers, wearing uniforms and self-satisfied expressions.

Presently Dr. Mabo arrived. She patted Rory’s shoulder approvingly as she passed him, a most un-Mabolike gesture.

Rory must have joined up fast, Ronan realized, maybe right after he talked to him and Murel. He recognized that he was on the beach near the military encampment, not the one near the children’s prison.

There were no nice little huts or bamboo walls, just blocky prefabs and the company colors flying below the Federation ones on a pole in the middle. That was all he could see, looking between heads and feet.

Mabo prodded him with her toe.

“Get up, boy, and come with me. We have important work to do, the two of us.”

Ronan sat up. “Can I borrow a shirt or something?” he asked.

“Clothing is for human beings,” Mabo said. “Don’t worry. You won’t be staying in human form long.”

She leaned forward, and he thought for one incredulous moment that she was going to help him up, but instead she reached around his neck and clamped on a collar. “You’ll be wearing this at all times, in whatever form.”

It was soft and nonchafing, but when he touched it, he felt some sort of webbing throughout the surface.

“What is it? A dog collar?”

“As long as you are a good creature and cooperative, it is simply a monitoring device.” She pulled something out of a pocket in her trousers. “If not…”

Pain shot directly into his head and all the way down to his toes. He wet himself with the shock and the onlookers snickered or made disgusted sounds.

“If you fail to follow orders, that will happen. I can make it worse. If you attempt to escape, I can track you. There is a lethal setting, by the way. Come along.”

“Can I wash off first?” he asked.

“You’ll be wet again soon enough,” she said.

Murel? he called, but his sister didn’t answer. He was sure she hadn’t been captured or she’d be there too. How was he going to get out of this? He wished he could communicate with Rory the same way he could with Murel, but he couldn’t. Rory was smart. If there was a way he could help, he would.

Unfortunately, Ronan was sure Mabo knew that too.

The others had parted before Mabo. When Ronan didn’t follow quickly enough, the collar gave him smaller shocks that made him twitch and jerk and threw him off balance. Derisive laughter followed his naked behind as he trailed behind Mabo until she entered one of the prefab huts.

He heard footsteps behind him and turned his head for a second. Kai was following them into the hut.

Mabo gave him a grandmotherly smile and stroked the side of the collar’s control device with her thumb.

“I realize, Ronan, that since you served as my research assistant previously, you are the most qualified applicant for the present opening. However, since you are to be the subject of the current experiments, I need a new assistant. This girl has showed initiative and furthermore seems to have some sort of a grudge against you. But don’t worry. I won’t let her harm you any more than necessary.”

When he had first stepped in from the sunlight, the inside of the small structure seemed dark and featureless, but now he saw that besides a desk, chair, and a metal table, there was a sturdy stand supporting a clear-sided tank about the size of a deep bathtub. It was filled with water, and for a moment he thought there might be fish in it-snacks for him? He didn’t think so. Mabo didn’t strike him as the considerate type.

“Get in,” she said, pointing to the tank.

He frowned at the tank, and another bolt of pain ran through him. “I can’t!” he said, hating the whine in his voice. “It’s too high.”

Kai walked to a shadowed corner and pulled out a ladder, which she attached to the top of the tank, then pointed to him and the ladder.

He didn’t want more agony. He climbed in, mooning Mabo and Kai as he lowered himself into the tank.

His feet began changing into his flippered tail as soon as they touched water, and he slid down, eager to cover himself with water and fur.

“Stop right there,” Mabo said before he could sit in the water. So there he was, tail to the knees, bare human thighs bound at the knees by his own transition. Mabo climbed the ladder and leaned over the edge of the tank, holding something other than the control to the collar. Despite the heat, Ronan shivered as the back of her hand brushed his skin. He felt a sharp sting just where his tail met his leg, then another one, and jumped, knocking into Mabo. She turned her face slowly sideways to meet his gaze, allowing her eyes to flick meaningfully to her hand. He held perfectly still as she straightened herself on the ladder and climbed down it. Then, while she turned to prepare some slides, he examined the sore spot. The water was bloody.

“Ow,” he said.

“I never promised it wouldn’t hurt,” she said. “I have to take specimens. You’ll get used to it.”

“Have you tried it on yourself?” he asked.

“Of course not. I’m a human being all the time.”

“So?”

“So if you don’t quit whining and leave me to conduct my work in peace, I’ll give you more of this to whine about.” The pain slashed through him again. He cried out before he could keep his vow to not give her the satisfaction. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t even paying attention to him anymore. Kai was out of his range of vision, behind him somewhere, which didn’t thrill him either.

He wished he could train himself to think past the pain caused by the collar. Whatever Mabo said, he knew she didn’t want to damage him, because then she wouldn’t have a live specimen, so even though the collar hurt like mad, it probably wasn’t doing him any real harm.

What hurt most was his tail. It was not designed to have his dry body standing on it. He eased himself slowly, slowly, down the side of the tank so he could sit. He didn’t want another taste of the collar, but he didn’t want to crush his tail either, which would mean his legs and feet would be broken when the tail changed into them again.

“Doctor, Doctor!” Kai said.

Mabo looked over and her eyes narrowed. He expected another stab of pain from the collar, but instead she stood, both hands closed, and said, “I was going to do this a bit slower, but now that you’re down that far, stick your head under too. Not your shoulders and torso, mind you, just your head. And leave it there until I tell you otherwise.”

He meant to obey, tried to obey, but the tank was too narrow and the water too deep if he tried it one way and too shallow another.

Finally Mabo said, “Fine then, Kai, you hold him around the waist and stick his head under.”

The big Kanaka girl climbed the steps, her heavy gravity body making the tank slosh and shake with each rung. She grabbed Ronan by the hair, then under the armpits, and hauled him up until she could get an arm around his body where his waist met his tail.

Though it seemed to him she lifted him as he would one of Clodagh’s cats, though he’d have been gentler, she complained, “Ugh. He’s really heavy.”

He started to return the compliment, but before he could, she took hold of the back of his head and bent him double, shoving his face into the water.

MUREL CALLED AND called, both mentally and by using her sonar song, but she heard nothing from Ronan. Not a peep. Surely they wouldn’t just kill him? They might not mean to, but accidentally? The thought panicked her until she realized with an inner certainty so concrete that if it had been an anchor it would have sunk to the bottom of the sea: If he were dead, I’d know. Followed by: Wouldn’t I?

Sky popped his head above the surface and said, Ronan river seal is not here. He is hiding?

I wish! Someone is hiding him.

We can find him! Sky said. Where are the best hiding places here?

They’re ashore, Sky, but there are nets between us and the shore. I think we’re going to have to trust the people on the boat to take us ashore-maybe in disguise.

What is disguise?

Pretending to be someone you are not.

I will pretend to be another otter? Which one? There is only one sky otter and I am the one.

I didn’t mean you. I meant me. I will pretend to be another human. There are no other otters of any kind here that I’ve found, so you’d better just hide. Come on, she said, and began swimming toward the boat, only to find it was no longer where they had left it.

She sang her sonar song again and found it, but it was very far away. Cat? she said. I thought the boat was going to stay with us?

The capitaine thought that you were going to stay near to the boat. We received a message that is causing us to return to the prison.

I thought he was going to tell you to let us know if there was a change in plans.

He did, but first I was eating and now I perform my toilette. I cannot do it all at once. So I tell you now. We return to the shore of the prison. If you wish to be with the boat, you must also come.

The otter swims very quickly. He can catch up, of this I am certain.

Sky found nothing to quibble with about the cat’s attitude, and Murel, raised with Nanook and Coaxtl and Clodagh’s orange-tabby pride, realized she was very tired and worried indeed. Of course, the cat had better things to do than take messages for them. She was a cat, after all.

No matter. Before long the boat was in sight again and the captain spied them with his binoculars. Soon they were back on board. Murel changed, and wore the now-dry T-shirt and cap once more. Sky, with Zuzu’s assistance, was eating a fish.

“I guess I don’t have to ask if you had any luck,” the captain said.

“No luck. And if we had, I think I’m too tired to do anything about it.”

“Take a nap in the cabin. We’ve about two and a half hours until we reach shore and have business to take care of. We may need your help then.”

She took him up on his suggestion, curling into a ball on the sticky, ripped plastic cushion of the long, curved bench inside the cabin. Just before she dropped off, she was aware of two furry bodies joining her, one snuggling into the place behind her knees and one climbing on top of her to sit on her upturned hip.

“WHAT ARE WE going to do with them?” Sinead asked, nodding in the direction of the longhouse, where armed villagers-the few not currently crowded into Clodagh’s cabin-guarded the soldiers. The temperature outside had risen and the blizzard had blown away, leaving deep drifts and silence as its legacy. Clodagh’s stove pumped heat into the room, and steam rose from the snow melting from mittens, hats, and boots.

“Keep them there, I guess,” Aidan replied, extending his bare hands toward the stove to warm them.

“They’re really gonna cool their heels, though, with no fire.”

“Sorry,” Yana said. “But they’re still wearing good winter gear, and I don’t trust them not to burn the place down around themselves to force us to release them. It’s the sort of thing I’d have done if I were in their place.”

“It’s not that so much,” Sinead said wryly. “But I worked hard helping build the longhouse and it’s got some brilliant carvings on the beams and posts. I’d hate to see it burned down. Still, we can’t keep them there indefinitely.”

Sean, who had been away for the first part of the meeting, announced his arrival by stamping his boots on the stoop outside. His entry sent one of Clodagh’s orange-striped cats leaping up from its nap on the coats piled beside the door onto one of the rafters, where it glared disapprovingly at the humans taking up all the other good nap spots not currently occupied by other orange cats. Its hind paws and tail disturbed bunches of the remaining dried plants strung upside down along the beams. Flakes of leaves, petals, and grasses sifted down onto the heads and shoulders of those below, along with a whisper of herbal fragrance that caused Eamon Oogliuk to sneeze into his mitten.

“Sean, we were talking about how safe it is for the soldiers to have them in the longhouse with no fire, and how dangerous we were afraid it would be to let them build one,” Sinead said, filling him in.

“It’s been sorted out,” he said cheerily. “I’ve been talking on the com to some of the distant villages.

They’re sending sleds and snocles to collect their share of our honored guests.”

“You’re splitting them up, then?” Sinead asked.

“That I am,” he replied. “First they’ll be going to each village’s Stranger Cave to make their manners with Petaybee, then those who are accepted will have a latchkay in their honor and those who don’t will receive the appropriate treatment. By dividing them, even if we don’t exactly conquer, at least we’ll prevent them from planning any mischief together. I think this is one strategy they’ll not be counting on.”

Clodagh smiled and began stuffing medicinal items in a bag made of woven rabbit skins.

“Did you try the com farther afield, Sean?” Yana asked when the general comment had died down. “Any news of the kids, or from Johnny and the others?”

He shook his head. “No, but I didn’t try. I was busy contacting the villages to take care of the current problem. I’ll try to reach Johnny now, shall I, and see if they’ve been able to get a message to Marmie’s allies.”

“Try the relay to Versailles Station too, if you can get offworld,” she said. “That’s the logical place for the kids to look for Marmie’s allies.”

“For that matter, I could try a few of them from here, if I can get out at all,” he said.

Clodagh shot a look at Yana and said to Sean, “But stay and warm up a moment first, love.”

“No, no, I need to get back to the cave and let the others know what’s going on here. The rock flock are supposed to be helping our newest citizens, but you know how transported they can get in the communion cave. No need to alarm the others any more than they are already. They’ll want to know when it’s safe to come home again.”

“I’d wait,” Clodagh said.

“Yeah,” Aidan agreed. “They’re a good enough lot, but they’re new and we’ve no idea where their loyalties may lie. No sense burdening them with more information than they might want to have. Another ship might land soon, and we’re down to just the one hijacker.” He dipped the tassel on his hat in Yana’s direction. “We don’t want to put the newcomers in the way of bein’ interrogated.”

“Nor any of us,” Aisling added.

“Indeed. So they’ll need to stay in the cave a bit longer?”

“Aye, and the rest of us will need to be gettin’ back there as well,” Sinead said. “At least to sleep. We won’t want to be caught out if another troop ship lands. They’ll not be happy about us hostin’ their personnel.”

“Back to the com station with me it is, then,” Sean said. “The first sleds and snocles should be here in a couple of hours, so keep an eye out for them.”

Sean trudged back out to the com station. It was the old com shed with a Nakatira cube added. The soldiers had sacked it, but hadn’t damaged anything of importance, probably thinking they might have a need for it themselves later on.

For a change he got a clear signal. He tried Versailles Station first, since the hijacked troop ship had only departed a short time ago. He’d become very familiar with the station’s routing procedure while the kids were in school there and expected to hear one of the voices he’d come to know.

Instead he was answered by an unfamiliar female voice that gave the station’s registration number but not its name or corporate affiliation, as previous comoffs had. “Please identify yourself and state your business,” she said.

“You first,” Sean replied, putting a bit of the Irish blarney in his tone to sound flirtatious and perhaps as if he’d been into the blurry. “You’ve a lovely voice.”

“Please identify yourself and state your business,” she said.

“You don’t sound like the usual operator. Let me talk to Yasmine. She knows me, and you see, I’m a bit shy.”

“Identify yourself,” she repeated, then added, “I can trace this, you know. Only authorized communications are acceptable.”

“How about putting me through to Colonel Cally then?” Sean asked. “This is a classified situation.”

“There is no Colonel Cally at this station. Colonel Montgomery is the officer in charge. But he will not speak to unidentified callers.”

Sean broke contact. The station was under Corps control. He hailed the troop ship next. Again a clear signal, which was a great relief, since he felt an urgent need to talk to an offplanet ally.

“Good to hear from you, Sean,” Rick O’Shay, manning the com, said in answer to his hail. “How did it go on that end? Yana get away okay?”

“She took a bit of a dunking, but that was our fault. Sinead set a few surprises for our guests.”

“And how are your guests? Added some, did you?”

“Yes, the crew joined the rest of their party in our largest and most deluxe accommodation. Since heating presents a bit of a problem, however, they’ll be touring the pole with some of our most experienced guides.”

“Ah. We’re doing grand here too. A bit understaffed, but we’re all excellent multitaskers, so that’s no bother.”

“I’d a special reason for wanting to chat, Richard.”

“And that would be?”

“It seems there’s new management at Versailles Station, which is most likely where our young ones had their new friends take them. Is there any way you can find out what happened? They may be needing assistance, and we’ve no other way to reach them.”

“I’ll speak with the charming Petula and get back to you, Sean.”

“You know what it’s been like here, Rick. You might get us again and you might not. I’m sure the kids are fine, but if I don’t do something to reassure their mother, she may declare war on the Company Corps, and while they’re being a bother at the moment, I’d hate to see that happen to them. They do have their uses.”

“Understood. Ah, here is our Ms. Chan now. Pet, pet, Governor Shongili himself would like a word.”

“Chan,” she said in a clipped voice that reminded him of Yana on a bad day. “What’s up, Governor?”

“As you may be aware, my children took an alternate form of transport and we think they may have gone to Versailles Station to seek help for Marmie. I just tried the regular channels to locate them at the station, and it seems to have undergone a hostile takeover.”

“But all you’ve tried is the direct method?”

“Aye. Is there another you might employ?”

“Perhaps,” she said.

Sean sat there waiting, planning how to handle Kilcoole’s share of the invasion party. He felt unusually impatient and restless. How long could it take them to contact the station? Surely Pet still had contacts there. She’d been Marmie’s security chief for years, after all. When he tried to imagine what could be happening to cause such a long delay, he could think of all too many disturbing scenarios.

Contacting the station could tip off their enemies that the ship was not where it was supposed to be and that the crew was not what it was supposed to be. The station might notify others in the Corps who were closer, and they would recapture the ship and Petaybee’s spaceborne allies and send another ship with more invasion troops to complete the mission.

That was a long shot, though. Johnny, Rick, Pet, and the new guy, Raj, were all Corps veterans themselves and had experience dealing with the protocol and all that. As a native Petaybean, Sean had never served in the Corps or even been offworld, which sometimes made him wonder what a well-versed woman like Yana saw in him. But then, she couldn’t turn into a seal and enjoy roaming the rivers and ocean as he and the kids could.

The kids…Where were the little hooligans anyway? What if they weren’t at Versailles Station? Where would the aliens have taken them then? And almost scarier, with Versailles apparently under martial law, what if they were there?

He found himself tapping his foot and drumming his fingers against the instrument panel to the beat of one of the Irish tunes used for latchkay songs. Why didn’t Pet answer him? He watched the instruments carefully, but there were no red spots or blips on the screens indicating that the planet’s magnetic forces were playing merry hell with communications again. He realized that that was partially why he was so impatient. He had no idea how long this clear spot would last.

At last Pet’s face reappeared on the screen, wearing a grim expression. “I’m sorry, Sean. I couldn’t reach anyone I could trust to find out more. We’re monitoring the station’s communications now to see if any mention of the twins or our other people pop up, but for now what it looks like to me is that they must all have been detained-possibly taken off-station. There are mentions of Gwinnet, but nothing specific yet. We’ll let you know when and if we have more-definite information, but for now we think it best to bypass the station and contact Whit Fiske, the Federation board chairman, and some of Marmie’s other friends, as soon as possible. If we can free her, she can help us locate the kids.”

“Thanks for trying, then,” Sean said, attempting not to sound as glum as he felt.

Pet Chan’s visage vanished from the screen, to be replaced briefly by Rick O’Shay’s.

“Good luck to you all,” Sean told him.

“And to you,” Rick said.

THE SLEDS AND snocles arrived in ones, twos, and threes, first the Chugliaks from Kilgalen, then a delegation from Harrison Fjord, and another led by the Flood-Fitzhughs of Perfect Fjord.

Teams and machines were given maintenance and their drivers were fed and rested before the longhouse was opened, and two and three at a time the soldiers, warmly dressed, were given warm soup to drink and smoked salmon to chew before being bound hand and foot and strapped into the sleds or inside the snocles.

When the last of them were gone and Kilcoole’s guests had been dispatched with other sleds and snocles to one of the distant communion caves not in common use by the villagers, Sean returned to their own cave and the newcomers.

He was surprised when Ke-ola, looking massive in furry snow pants and parka, greeted him outside the cave.

“What’s the matter, Ke-ola lad?” Sean asked, seeing yet more trouble clearly etched on the boy’s round features.

“It’s the Honus, Papa Sean,” he said. He’d gone from the formal “Governor Shongili” to “Doctor” to “Papa,” then decided that that was too informal and settled on “Papa Sean.” Most older people were uncles and aunts to the Kanaka kids, but since the twins and Ke-ola had somewhat adopted each other, Ke-ola considered Sean a closer relative than most.

“What about them?” Sean asked. “Has something happened to them?”

“No, not really, but they’re restless, and they swam under the ice all the way here and since then have been swimming in circles in the water.”

“Have they told you what’s bothering them?”

“No. They aren’t talking to me, or any of the rest of us. But they’re real agitated about something. So I was thinking, maybe if you turn into a seal again they’d tell you what’s the matter.”

Sean thought about putting the lad off, since he had quite a few things to organize, but as he and his family had learned before, Honus knew things, and he knew very well that what they might know and not be telling was exactly what concerned Ke-ola.

He and Ke-ola were alone outside the cave, so he stripped off and dived into the hot springs, changing at once and surfacing in the midst of the circling turtles. Now then, my hard-shelled friends, what’s this game you’re playing and why are you not talking to young Ke-ola? He’s beside himself with worry.

Our people need us, but they are there and we are here, the largest Honu said.

And one of them serves our enemy, the smallest Honu, the original one who came with Ke-ola, added.

Enemy? That would be that woman scientist? The one we arrested for poaching Petaybean otters and who later gave my kids such a hard time on the space station?

Enemy of Honus! the Honu replied. Enemy of seal people and otter people also.

Sean saw that the Honu had his priorities in order as far as he was concerned. One of your people is serving her, then? So do you mean she’s captured another Honu?

A two-legged, the Honu answered. They damage a third person.

Two-legged or four?

The Honus consulted one another, closing their ring to touch noses, their shells forming a flower on the surface of the pool. No legs, was the consensus. Flipper tail and grabbers.

Sean didn’t like the sound of that. Not at all. But he tried to stay calm and project calm as he clarified his suspicions. Grabbers?

Two-leggeds have them on top. On bottom, legs, on top, grabbers.

Arms and hands perhaps? Sean thought, but mostly to himself. To the Honus, clearly everything was best described as “grabbers.” Instead of waiting for them to change their terminology, he asked a more pressing question. Have you any idea where the enemy and the two-legged person of the Honus is-damaging-the person with the tail and grabbers?

They consulted again and finally the original Honu said, We do not know, but the seas are empty, and on the land, others of our people are caged.

Hmm, Sean said. I believe I know of the place. Thank you, Honus. Don’t you be worryin’ your shells about this a minute longer. The two-leggeds can take it from here.

Somehow he had the feeling they were not reassured.

He swam to the pool’s edge and found Ke-ola waiting with his clothing. After flipping himself dry, he related the turtles’ message to Ke-ola while he pulled on his dry suit, parka, and mukluks.

“Why wouldn’t they tell me?” the boy asked, clearly wounded by the reticence of the animals he loved.

“They spoke about their people doing wrong, so perhaps they meant one of your relatives,” Sean said.

“They might have extended their displeasure with that individual to your whole family.”

Ke-ola thought it over. “Yeah, I think I remember hearing about that sort of thing happening in olden times. I think we’re supposed to make an offering to appease them or something, but I’m not sure what.

Not too many people still know much about the old ways.”

“You might want to talk it over with Clodagh. I’ve always found her very helpful where interspecies relations are concerned. I’d stay and help you myself, but I have to try to reach Johnny and his merry band of pirates and tell them plans have changed. Someone has to get my kids out of that old wagon’s clutches.”

“Wagon?”

“A hateful female. Does one come to mind?”

“Dr. Mabo?”

“The very one,” Sean said, but he called it over his shoulder. He was already striding back toward the com station, hoping he could still get a message to the hijacked ship.

MARMIE AND ADRIENNE kept busy while waiting for Christian’s return. They each slept briefly while the other kept watch, but afterward, and when they’d eaten, they both felt the need to do something. Following Christian’s description of how the records were generally organized, they covered their faces and went to work hauling the dusty files from their tombs out into the office. It was hard, heavy work even with the use of the little wheeled cart that could carry a stack of six boxes at once, but they had cleared most of one set of shelves and were halfway through another one when Marmion sat down, heavily and without her usual grace.

“Madame!” Adrienne said. “Are you unwell?”

But Marmie was staring at one of the file boxes. After a few deep breaths, she reached for it, opened it, and began flipping through the files. Selecting one, she pulled it out, spread it on the table, and began reading. “Aha!” she said at last, pointing. “There it is. Read this, Adrienne.” She pointed with the wreck of a formerly well-manicured forefinger, and Adrienne did as directed, but at first did not understand.

Then Madame enlightened her. With renewed vigor, the two of them returned to the files, piling up more and more of the boxes until, once more, Madame chose a particular file from a particular box, and found another of the items that interested her. After another break for food and rest, they continued. They were still at it when they heard the scrape of a key in the door.

“We’re very busy here,” Adrienne barked toward the door. “Why are you interrupting us?”

A timid female voice replied, clearly having no idea what she was saying or why. “I come with news from General Bonaparte regarding the retreat. You’re to come with me right away.”

CAPTAIN TERRY WAS glad to see the heads of the seal and otter surface beside his boat just before he crossed the squid hole and headed back to shore.

“Maybe we ought to stop and load them back aboard before we land,” Lloyd suggested. “That way we won’t lose track of them,”

“Nah,” Terry replied, “They can hide easier in the water. The cat can hide aboard ship without too much trouble, but the girl isn’t likely to be anything but an escaped prisoner, and these yahoos would probably shoot the otter, thinking it was a really big rat.”

“Well, yeah, but once we load the cargo aboard, there’ll be two female escaped prisoners here anyway…”

“And once we have them safely away from port, the seal girl can come back aboard any time, and the otter too. But we don’t want to attract any more attention to ourselves than we’re already likely to.”

A strong wind blew up, ruffling the water and rocking the boat. The men looked up for a moment. There were no clouds, though there was a definite disturbance in the air. They could feel and almost see the air currents swirling past them. Terry and Lloyd pulled their hats down more firmly on their heads and watched the shore intently, praying that if a storm was coming it would not blow up until the transfer had been made.

Two soldiers hefted a body bag between them and heaved it onto the dock where Terry’s boat routinely made its pickups of squid fodder. Shutting down the motor, Terry guided his boat in through the wind-driven waves. Then he and Lloyd hauled the heavy bag on board, unzipped it, and rolled the two bodies it contained onto the deck. The empty bag was tossed back onto the dock for reuse with the next lot. It’d never do to pollute the ocean or choke the squid with those nonbiodegradable bags, and the bags were reusable. The stiffs normally didn’t mind.

One of them winked at him, which was kind of eerie, as was the warmth of the bodies under the uniforms they wore. Bodies ordinarily went out of the world the same way they came into it. Clothes, even the rags most of the longtime prisoners sported, were also thought to be damaging to the delicate ecology of the ocean and its only large denizens.

The cat sniffed the two bodies. One reached up as if to stroke the cat, but the feline gave a snort and turned its curly tail on them. The younger of the two rolled her eyes comically but refrained from saying anything. Lloyd stepped over them to start the engine again.

“Stay down until we’re out of visual contact with the shore,” Terry told his newest set of passengers.

They were silent as the dead while the boat chugged out to sea, until it reached the place where Terry and Lloyd would usually offload their cargo.

Then the younger woman asked, “How did Zuzu get aboard?”

“She swam,” he told her. “It’s getting downright crowded out here lately, if you want to know the truth.”

He was watching the stern from his binoculars and saw the heads of the seal and the otter pop up again.

He expected them to swim toward the boat, but instead they were looking skyward. He followed their gaze but saw nothing. Then something dropped down to the surface of the water, obscuring his view of the two sleek heads. He thought for a second that his eyes had played a trick on him, that the seal and the otter had dived, but then the water began to bubble and churn as a hole opened in the surface to admit-something.