“We have swim meets, too.”
“Where? Underwater? You swim against the sharks or something?”
“Aberforth Hills is going to be a surprise to you,” he said with amusement.
He opened a door, and Em stopped in alarm. The building’s spacious hallway was connected to a tunnel with a low ceiling that couldn’t have been seven feet tall at best. It was wide enough for ten people or more to pass at a time. It smelled damp, like a musty bathroom. Not any worse than an old subway in a major city, she guessed, but she didn’t like it.
“Most buildings these days are connected by tubes.” Shelby didn’t notice her unease, but he kept walking and gently drawing her forward.
Suddenly, a hover-car darted around a corner and rushed straight for them. Quickly, Em stepped to the side of the corridor and pulled in to avoid being hit. Instead, it smoothly stopped right beside them. About the size of a golf cart, it rode on air somehow and made almost no noise as it moved.
A man and woman wearing white coats—just like doctors in any hospital—stepped out. The man said, “Would you like this h-car? We’re done for now.”
“Thanks,” Shelby said. He climbed in and motioned for Em to sit. Pulling a lever, he smoothly turned it around, and they shot off down the tubes. He explained, “We have a couple thousand h-cars in the tubes. Usually you leave them at a tube station, but for the hospital, you can take them to the entrance, if you need to. I usually find an abandoned one here when I get off work.”
They came into a larger tube, and Em realized they’d been in a small branch of the tube system. The larger thoroughfares would easily hold twenty or thirty people across, were taller and much cleaner. There were three lanes: two for h-cars, one for each travel direction, and one for pedestrians. At the next major intersection, Shelby stopped to show her a tube station. A row of h-cars sat in haphazard rows; a mother pulled a toddler into one and zipped off to the right, while another car stopped and a man in a business suit got off, grabbed a briefcase, and strode briskly away.
“Every tube station has a moon pool,” Shelby said. “And an O2 Station.”
He explained that before a dive, the Mer often breathed straight oxygen to enable them to stay underwater longer. They needed that extra oxygen to reach the surface easily from this depth.
Watching the traffic come and go, Em saw a sign that said, Phelps Natatorium.
“Wait!” Em said astonished. “Phelps? Michael Phelps?”
“Think about it.” Shelby just raised an eyebrow and waited for her to understand.
“Oh!” The incredulous truth hit her, and she thought about how unfair that was for humans. But, wow! Phelps.
Shelby just grinned. “Aberforth Hills has lots of surprises for you.”
“Can I see the Natatorium?” Em was anxious to see something familiar in this alien place.
“The Natatorium is at the northern edge of the city. It’s too far for you to go today. I’m only allowed to give you a short outing so you don’t get tired,” Shelby said. “What else do you want to see?”
What Em really yearned for was to know more about her biological mother, Bobbie Fleming. Ms. Fleming been in Seattle High School her junior year, but her brother thought she was getting too interested in human boys. He pulled her back to Aberforth Hills for her senior year. But then, thinking she was “cured” of that boy-craze and back in control, she attended Seattle Pacific University. And as a sophomore, she met Damien Fleming again.
Em wanted to know where her mother had lived that senior year. To see it. To walk through it. To try to understand why Ms. Fleming had given Em up for adoption. Was it possible to understand a decision like that?
Em answered slowly. “Bobbie Fleming is my mother.” She winced. It felt wrong to say that, like she was betraying her Mom. Hastily, she added, “My biological mother. Do you think we could go places where she grew up?” She wondered what would it be like to grow up in a hidden society and to pledge to keep that society going. What would that do to your psyche?
“Sure,” Shelby said. “Your Uncle Max wants you to stay at the family house tonight anyway and that’s in the eastern part of the city. Someone is taking your clothes and things there, and we’ll meet him for supper.”
Em shook her head in annoyance. How dare Dr. Max Bari just take over her life like that! Well, she didn’t plan to be here long. She’d be back on Bainbridge Island soon and everything would be back to normal. No, she thought, life will never be the same again. Knowing who gave me life and seeing this place with my own eyes—everything has changed.
And anyway, she wanted to see Bobbie’s school. And she was well enough to be out of the hospital, and where else could she stay until she was well enough to travel.
“OK,” she said with a deep sigh. “Where else could we go to see something about Bobbie?”
Em didn’t know what she expected. After all, what did Shelby know about her biological mother? But he managed to find the right information. First, they stopped by the Gunby High School and walked down a hallway that looked very much like any school building anywhere on Earth.
Em sat on a wooden bench while Shelby ducked into the school’s office to let them know he was touring the building with Em. Looking around, she saw no windows, and everything smelled faintly of mildew.
When Shelby reappeared, she asked, “What’s that smell?”
Shelby wrinkled his nose. “The school has one of the oldest air generators around. It’s so old that the air it produces smells funny. I don’t even notice it, I’m so used to it.”
Shelby led the way up a set of stairs and to a wall with photos.
“Whoa!” Shelby said. “Look at those hair styles.”
The senior photo of Bobbie Fleming—or Bobbie Bari, her maiden name—showed a pretty girl with big hair like the models of the time with feathered bangs and layers to make her hair look fuller. Em’s heart twisted to see Bobbie so young and happy. This was the woman that Damien Fleming had fallen in love with.
Em touched the glass in front of Bobbie’s photo. They didn’t look alike at all. Apparently Em had gotten her father’s coloring not her mom’s. She suddenly realized that she didn’t know why Bobbie Fleming had been a patient in the Mangot Hospital. There had been such startling things to discuss that she hadn’t even thought to ask. Hopefully, it wasn’t something serious. She started to ask, but didn’t think Shelby would have any idea.
Shelby stopped at the school library, and Em gratefully sank into a chair beside a study table. While she rested, he talked to the librarian and found a school year book. Bringing it back to Em’s table, they looked up Bobbie Bari.
“Looks like she played tennis. And she played Juliet in the senior play,” he said. “We can look at those buildings, too.”
Emotions flickered, leaving Em alternately hot and cold, angry and sympathetic. Desperately, she tried to understand what it was like for Ms. Fleming as a teenager. Living the secret life of a mermaid, but longing to be just a normal American teenager—it would have been bewildering. Interesting that they studied Shakespeare’s love story. Star-crossed lovers.
Em realized she was tired, not just a usual weariness, but a deep exhaustion from her illness. The thought of going to Dr. Bari’s house, though, repelled her. Not yet.
“Let’s see something else,” she said. Resolutely, she rose and walked briskly, trying to hide her fatigue.
In the h-car again, Em asked, “Ms. Fleming played tennis?”
“Yes, we’ll go to the Wolliscroft Tennis Club in the eastern part of the city. It was actually established in 1868, the same year as the All England Club in Wimbledon. Of course, we didn’t really have a tennis facility here until about twenty years ago, but just the same, the Phoke stuck together and pushed hard to win a couple Wimbledons.”
Em thought: Of course, you did. You push hard about everything.
She was starting to realize at least that much about the Phoke.
“For the last twenty-five y
ears,” Shelby continued, “we’ve held our own tennis tournaments. Your mother won the girls event her senior year. In those days, we weren’t very good at tennis, but nowadays, we’ve built to a level that it’s not uncommon for our players to compete on a world level.” The pride in his voice was obvious.
The Wolliscroft Tennis Club was beautiful. A pale silvery metal exterior hid a perfectly heated and cooled space with a series of courts, dressing rooms, small vendors with snacks, and tennis equipment. The center courts could easily hold 3-4000 spectators. Everywhere, people waved at Shelby or called to him. Apparently, he was well known in the tennis world.
“Who pays for all of this?” Em asked incredulously.
“The Mer made our fortunes in the amber trade.” He explained the underwater origins of the stone and some history of its trade. “But our businessmen have a hand in almost everything these days.”
He sounded so superior that Em wanted to knock him down a couple notches. “If I wasn’t so sick,” she said, “I’d challenge you to a swim race.”
“You’d win,” he said seriously. “I’m only one-fourth Mer, too, but you’ve had training. But I’m more keen on tennis than swimming. And on bodybuilding. If you want a race, you should challenge someone who’s half Mer. You’ll likely lose, even with all your practice.”
“It makes that much difference?”
He shrugged and said simply, “Michael Phelps.”
Em struggled to understand, but she felt like she’d been left behind in an algebra class while the rest of the class had jumped to calculus. She also felt like it was the end of a very, very long school day.
She was glad when Shelby finally said, “Well, it’s time to meet your Uncle for dinner.”
Even in her fatigue, Em felt a deep resolve stiffen inside her. This tour of Aberforth Hills had her blood running cold. Uncle. Doctor. Horrible brother. Half Mer, and too proud of it. Dr. Max Bari was going to try to control her life. Aberforth Hills enticed her as he knew it would; it was exotic and intriguing. But Em wouldn’t let him bully her like he had Bobbie Fleming. She couldn’t stay here. She needed to return to Bainbridge Island as soon as possible. Before she forgot that she was half-Japanese and all-American.
12
Night Swimming
December 21
To spend the night, Hilario Barbena had rented a small, whitewashed three-bedroom cottage on Coldingham Bay, just south of St. Abbs. It was charmingly decorated with photos of surfers and kite surfers—obviously a popular summer pastime here. The two boys shared a room; Jillian and Hilario each had their own rooms.
They stopped at a local shop and bought hamburger meat, the teens all tired of Scottish food and longing for a familiar cheeseburger. Jake added a bottle of antiseptic and bandages to the basket, and at Hilario’s glare, said he’d show her when they got to the house.
At the cabin, David volunteered to grill the burgers. He lit the gas grill outside, shaped the meat into patties, and carried them out to cook.
Meanwhile, Hilario demanded, “Let me see.”
Jake pulled off his shirt and heard a sharp intake of air from both Hilario and Jillian.
He quickly explained how he’d been cut by General Puentes’s men.
In a tight, angry voice, Hilario said, “You didn’t tell your mother? It’s definitely infected.”
Jake shrugged. “Why worry her?”
“Turn this way to the light, so I can get a pic,” Jillian said, her smart phone in her hands.
“No,” Jake said. “This isn’t for your adoring public.”
“Aw,” Jillian said. “They’d love to see how an alien hurts.”
“Yeah,” Jake said cynically. “I’m sure they would. But go find another alien for that task.”
Jillian frowned. “You’re really sick?” She put a hand on his forehead and nodded. “You ARE really sick! When’s the last time you ever ran a fever?”
“Um, never,” Jake said. They couldn’t use a human’s thermometer to take his temperature; Risonian body temperatures ran hot anyway, with 108 degrees Fahrenheit a normal reading. No human thermometer was made to measure that, and Hilario’s tiny Risonian first-aid kit didn’t have a Risonian thermometer because it was needed so rarely.
Hilario rummaged in the kitchen and found some acetaminophen left by a previous renter. She shook out a couple white pills and handed them to Jake. “I’m not sure this will work on Rison physiology. If you get worse, we’ll have to find a doctor.”
David came back in with the grilled burgers and caught the end of that conversation. Even sick, Jake was ready for cheeseburgers, potato chips, pickles and chocolate chip cookies. Much better than haggis, he thought wryly.
After supper, Hilario and Jillian cleaned up the kitchen. Jake was sick, and David had done the cooking, so they volunteered. Meanwhile, Jake pulled out his smart phone and opened the GPS app. He and David bent over the phone, trying to figure out the app.
David finally said, “We’ve got the coordinates. We can find it again.”
“When?” Jillian asked.
“Now,” Jake said.
Hilario sighed. “You’re right. We should swim out tonight and see if there’s anything there. It’ll be a fast swim, with little time to investigate. But we should be able to find out if we need to go back when we have more time.”
Jillian nodded to Jake, “Do you feel up to it? How bad do you feel?”
“The cold water will actually help my temperature go down.” His forehead furrowed. “I have enough energy to make it.”
David nodded to the window. “Five o’clock but already dark. We can go now, and no one will see us.”
Hilario said, “You three stay here. I’ll go buy a waterproof GPS.”
By 6 p.m., the four stood at the water’s edge on the small sandy Coldingham Bay beach. Hilario held a waterproof GPS that had a lighted display screen. She’d be the lead swimmer and navigator. She handed around waterproof flashlights, too.
Jake strapped his light to his forehead and grinned at Jillian who was already shaking her head to play with her light. But there was no sense in playing around. They had serious business to attend to.
Jake murmured, “Aberforth Hills, here we come.” And they dove into the night sea.
Cold and clear, the water here was a pleasure. No silt like they might have found where a stream emptied into the North Sea. Almost immediately a seal swam under them and was joined by several more. With their legs zipped into an efficient tail, the Risonians easily kept pace with the seals. The seals didn’t come close, just shadowed the small group of aliens as they swam.
Quickly, Jake realized he was feeling worse than he had suspected. Even with his magma-sapiens blood, the cold water made him shiver. Only his constant movement kept his teeth from chattering. He was definitely running a temperature, maybe 111 degrees or more.
But he swam. Em was hidden somewhere in Scotland, and his time was running out. If he didn’t find her soon, he’d have to return to Seattle without her. He was sure that the answers were here somewhere, if he could understand the clues he saw and heard.
Gradually, Jake felt himself slowing. Hilario was still in the lead, with David right after. Jillian seesawed between speed and sympathy. She sped up to catch Hilario, and then turned around to see Jake far behind. She motioned the other two ahead and waited for Jake to catch up. Then she sped up again, only to wind up waiting for Jake again. He thrust his leg-tail harder, trying to find a comfortable way to speed up, but everything used his stomach muscles, and the cut burned, a pain that was spreading.
Still, he wouldn’t give up. He kept swimming, trying to keep his eyes open and focus on Jillian’s light so he wouldn’t fall behind too far. Once, he found himself drifting, half asleep, and jerked his eyes open. In the distance, he saw Jillian’s single light, Hilario and David too far ahead to even spot their lights.
That time, when he caught up, he motioned to Jillian to take a short break. They could talk underwater because
it didn’t bother them if water got into their lungs. Their lungs could eject water, in a sort of strange, forceful burp. However, water carried voices with less efficiency than air, and they sounded like they were whispering. The Old Speech, spoken before Risonians starting living on land, was a series of squeaks and whistles, a very different sort of language. Most families still taught it to their children, but they rarely spoke it in the cities on land. Only those who lived in underwater cities were proficient. The Ambassador had forbidden Risonians in the Earth delegation to speak it, lest some Earthling try to decipher it. They used it only in emergency communications, and then only on secure channels.
Jake let his body droop to say that he was tired.
Hilario and David had circled back now, concern written on their faces.
But Jake pointed to the GPS and raised an eyebrow in an unvoiced question “How much farther?”
Hilario pointed to the readout. They were very close to the spot they had marked from the day’s cruise. Hilario held up ten fingers. She was estimating maybe ten minutes.
Jake nodded and doggedly kicked away, managing to briefly stay in the lead until he felt his energy drain away again, and he slowed. Now Hilario pushed hard, racing far ahead, but mimicking Jillian by waiting until Jake caught up before she darted away again.
Finally, the GPS told them that they were close to the spot where Captain Crow had taken them.
And nothing had prepared them for the sight.
13
Risonian Fever
December 21
The Risonian aliens treaded water, staring at the sight before them. They were 90 meters deep, so any light created here wouldn’t reach to the surface. Before them lay a city. No other word could describe the collection of buildings that were definitely meant for human-like creatures to live in.
Structures were obviously of various ages. The oldest—covered with barnacles and pitted from years of sea water—were like an upside-down bell. None of the older buildings had windows, presumably because of the difficulties of making glass thick enough to withstand the water pressure at this depth. The newer buildings were much like a skyscraper with five or six stories—though a “skyscraper” was a strange misnomer in this underwater city. Some of these taller building had windows, but they were small and few in number.
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