Sirens

by Darcy Pattison

  This was definitely an old city. Though Jake couldn’t count seven hills, there were enough high points and valleys that he was confident that when he had time to swim around the city and count, there would be seven hills.

  He was confused; as far as he knew, the Risonians were the only ones who were capable of building a city like this. But the buildings looked really old. Could this be a really old Seastead? Or were the tales of mermaids and mermen real? This was Aberforth Hills, of course. But that brought him no closer to an answer; it only raised more questions.

  Em had to be here, in one of these buildings. Jake felt a surge of anger at whomever had taken her. He would get her back. And if he found out that the Phoke were really Risonian, he’d be furious at his mother. If there were other Risonian Seasteads, and she hadn’t told him. . .

  But his energy was flagging. He had to rest. Reluctantly, he tapped Hilario’s shoulder. She whirled and her expression immediately went tense.

  Jake jerked his head back toward shore to say he wanted to go back.

  She automatically reached for his forehead and jerked back in concern. Hilario shook her hand as if it had just been burned, and the others nodded their understanding.

  David and Jillian each grabbed one of Jake’s arms, and they pulled him through the water. Toward the end of the journey, he dozed, letting them take him where they would. He vaguely remembered stumbling into the rented cottage and Hilario talking quietly into a phone: “Ambassador, you’ve got to find Jake a doctor.”

  

  December 22

  The Emergency Room rustled with the sighs of impatient people with various medical complaints and their anxious families. Overlaid across the sound of suffering was a loud news program broadcast from three separate TVs. They hung from the ceiling and pointed in different directions so that no one in the waiting room could escape the solemn proclamations. The 6 a.m. weather program was predicting cold, but sunny weather for Christmas Day.

  Jake was drawn, though, to a large wall that contained a huge salt-water aquarium. While Mom talked to officials to sort out paperwork and such, Jake tapped his forefinger on the thick glass to attract the attention of a yellow-finned fish.

  “Stop that.” A woman—tall, straight-backed, and almost regal—peered around the corner of the fish tank. She had the tone of one who expected to be obeyed.

  “Sorry,” Jake said immediately. He took a half-step back and watched.

  Using a long-armed brush, the woman scoured away a speck of algae, or something, that had stuck to the aquarium’s wall. She moved methodically around the tank, concentrating on eradicating every tinge of algae. She was tall and wore a navy t-shirt with the hospital logo on a front pocket, jeans and an all-weather jacket. Her dark hair was gathered into a huge knot at the nape of her neck. Jake supposed the hospital hired her to take care of the aquarium.

  He said, “I went to the Scotland National Aquarium a couple days ago.”

  She looked up, apparently surprised at this sudden conversation. She nodded and returned to her work.

  A quick glance told Jake that Mom was still filling out the emergency room papers. He studied the colorful fish in the tank and said, “They had an octopus. I met her.”

  “Met her?” The aquarium lady paused.

  “They let me put my arm in her tank.”

  Now Jake had the lady’s attention. She shook water off the brush and took a step closer.

  “Really. What did the octopus do?”

  Jake laughed, but he immediately regretted it because it made his stomach hurt. “She didn’t like me. Squirted me with really cold water and then hid. They say sea creatures like to hide in plain sight. Is there something in this aquarium that I should see, but it’s hidden in plain sight?”

  After another long moment of silence, the woman stepped back to the aquarium, stuck the brush back in the water and started scrubbing off a new fleck of algae.

  “Well?” Jake prompted.

  Without turning, the woman said, “I believe it was Leonardo da Vinci who said, ‘Learn how to see. Realize that everything connects to everything else.’ Perhaps you just need to learn how to see?”

  Jake sighed in exasperation, and started to reply, but his mother touched his shoulder. “This way,” she said.

  Jake shrugged at the woman and turned to follow his mother. They went through a set of double doors to a small room, where they waited again. Nurses came in to poke and prod: they checked his pulse and shook their heads over alien anatomy. They marveled over the Risonian thermometer that Mom had brought. It showed Jake’s temperature at 110.5 degrees, two and a half degrees above his normal temperature of 108.

  “A human would be dead at that temperature,” a tiny nurse said. She wrote the temperature on a chart and stepped outside the door calling to another nurse walking by, “You won’t believe this.”

  Mom sighed heavily with frustration. Jake realized that this was calling attention to the Risonian anatomy just at a time when they needed to look and act human. There couldn’t be a worse time for him to need a doctor.

  The door opened and a woman walked in, head down, studying a digital tablet. Looking up, she smiled at Jake.

  Startled, he realized it was the aquarium woman.

  She reached out a hand to Mom, “Hello, I’m Dr. Mangot. Blake Rose asked me to stop in and see about your son. We were in medical school together.”

  She was his doctor! Irritated, Jake thought about her comment, “Learn to see.” He’d seen what he expected to see, a person who cleaned aquariums, not a doctor.

  “What seems to be the matter?” asked Dr. Mangot.

  When Jake pulled up his t-shirt, she whistled. “Infected. How’d you get that cut?”

  As agreed beforehand, Jake said, “Knife accident. Just playing around. Just a fluke.”

  “Hmmm.” Clearly Dr. Mangot wasn’t convinced by his comment. She sat on a rolling stool, pulled on rubber gloves, and snapped them into place. Gingerly, she touched the wound. “Does that hurt?”

  Jake winced at the sharp pain and yelped, “Yes!”

  Dr. Mangot rolled back and pulled off the gloves. “I’ll need to do some blood work.”

  Mom protested. “You don’t know what Risonian blood is supposed to look like.”

  The doctor’s face was suddenly wreathed in a huge smile. “I know. Isn’t it great? You don’t know what an opportunity this is for a comparative anatomy specialist like myself. Blake knew. That’s why he called me. And while I may not understand everything I see under a microscope, if there’s Earth bacteria, I will be able to see it and understand that much.”

  Carefully, Mom said, “All right. How long will it take? He’s running quite a high temperature.”

  “That’s what I understand,” Dr. Mangot said. “I’ll draw his blood myself and try to be back within an hour. You do understand, though, that I may not be able to help if he’s got an Earth bacterial infection, and I try to treat him with antibiotics. From what I know, the Risonian metabolism works much faster than ours, so he could feel fine overnight. However, I must say, human antibiotics may not work with his anatomy.”

  Mom nodded, “I understand. I just don’t have another good choice. It’ll take a couple days for one of our doctors to get here.”

  Dr. Mangot nodded briskly, turned to the cabinet of supplies, and pulled out a syringe and vial to hold the blood. At Jake’s dismayed expression, she grinned again and said, “This won’t hurt a bit.”

  

  Jake huddled under the covers and tried to stop shivering. “Why didn’t you tell me that we had another Seastead in the North Sea?” he asked his mother.

  The question had hovered there all day while they went to the emergency room, waited for the blood tests and received a prescription. But Jake had known better than to discuss it in public places. Now that they were back in their hotel room, though, he wanted answers.

  Mom, sitting in a straight-back chair beside his bed, just
shook her head. Her usually curly hair was limp, and her eyes sagged from fatigue and worry. “I didn’t tell you because we don’t have a Seastead in the North Sea.”

  “It was there, Mom. And an old Seastead at that. How long have we been on Earth? Since the very first?”

  “It’s not ours,” Mom said.

  “Where else do we have Seasteads?” he said through gritted teeth. Why couldn’t they just trust him and treat him like an adult? He glared at her, daring her to lie to him.

  Calmly, she said, “One in the Mediterranean and one in the Atlantic.”

  Jake’s mouth fell open. “Oh.”

  Mom nodded, “Yes. Oh.”

  “But not in the North Sea?”

  She shook her head.

  Jake shivered and readjusted the blankets to cover his head. “Then, whose?”

  Mom’s mouth thinned in frustration. “I don’t know, but we’ve got to find out. Who else is living in Earth’s seas? Our evacuation from Rison only works if the Earthlings don’t care about their oceans. No,” she caught herself immediately. “They care. Some of them deeply. But they don’t live there, so the connection is different than if we were asking to share their lands.”

  “I’ve been hearing stories about the Mer, a race that lives in the ocean. Or sometimes they call it the Phoke,” Jake shrugged. “But everyone understands that it’s just a myth.”

  Suddenly, there was a knock at the hotel room door.

  Mom came back a few moments later. “The pharmacy sent up the antibiotic. And it’s time for more acetaminophen for that fever.” She handed him a large pink pill, several more acetaminophen, and half a glass of water.

  Jake took the pills, drank all the water, and handed the glass back to Mom. “We’ve got to get back out to St. Abbs and Aberforth Hills. Whatever is there, it’s my only chance of finding Em.”

  “If you’re feeling better tomorrow, you have to dive with me. I’ve talked with many of the world’s leaders by now, and they are scared of us. They want to know how we move and operate in the seas. We’ve got to dive with some of their military, the Army people.”

  “Navy or Marines,” Jake said automatically. From his time on the Obama Moon Base, he knew better than to mix up the branches of the military.

  “Officers from different branches of military and from different countries.

  He sighed, “Okay. But the day after that, it’s Aberforth Hills and Em.”

  “Fine,” Mom agreed. “Now get some sleep and feel better.”

  14

  Uncle and Niece

  December 22

  When Em walked into the dining room, Dr. Bari had his back to her choosing items from a tray.

  “Good evening,” she said coolly.

  Dr. Bari turned and gaped, visibly shocked. Shaking his head, he said, “If you had blond hair, you’d be your mother at eighteen.”

  Em smiled grimly. She’d slept in her mother’s old room, and when the alarm woke her from her nap, she’d rummaged through the closet of outdated clothing until she’d found something reasonable: a pair of jeans, a cream-colored fisherman’s sweater and tennis shoes. The surprise was that they fit, as if made for her.

  “See? Even your smile is like Bobbie.”

  Shyly, Em said, “I’m still trying to get used to the thought that she’s my biological mother.”

  “Yes,” Dr. Bari said. “I can see that. Would you like to call me Uncle Max?”

  Em was taken aback. “You’re Dr. Bari,” she said decisively. She didn’t think she could ever think of him as family. Her family was Mom, Dad and Marisa. He was trying to butt in where he wasn’t wanted. Anger stirred in her, but she forced herself to stay calm. It took too much energy to be angry.

  With a nod, Dr. Bari handed her a glass of orange juice and gestured toward the buffet. It was laid with a tray of lunchmeats, cheeses and croissants to make sandwiches.

  “You’ll have to come to terms with the Phoke sometime, you know,” Dr. Bari said. “You’ll always be between your genetics and your upbringing.”

  “The nature versus nurture question?” she taunted. “And of course, I must choose nature.”

  Dr. Bari shook his head. “No, it’s just that it’s a classic question. And you’ll have to answer it sometime.” He sat at the table, bit into his sandwich, and watched her fix her lunch.

  Em laid a slice of ham and then cheddar cheese onto her croissant, taking her time so she could think. She thought about how hard it was to fit in when you were so obviously different. It’s not like Em was the only half-Japanese kid in their school. In first grade, there were six. Four Asian boys and two half-Asian girls. Aimi and Em. Best friends forever. Or at least for first, second, third, and fourth grades. Then Aimi’s parents divorced.

  Captain Ragnor Skerry, or Uncle Skerry to Em, was military, and when he moved to D.C., Aimi and her Mom didn’t move with him.

  Aimi was spending the night when she told Em. They were playing with Barbie and Ken. Suddenly, Aimi moved Barbie’s leg to kick Ken.

  Em stared in surprise. “Why’d you do that?”

  “Cuz sometimes grown-ups do that. Mom doesn’t love Daddy any more. She wants to go home to Japan.”

  Em, who adored Uncle Skerry, was shocked. “Why doesn’t she love him?”

  Aimi shrugged. “I don’t know. She won’t say anything else.” Again, Barbie kicked Ken. Aimi let the Ken doll fall to the ground and said, “Let’s do something else.”

  Em stretched out on her stomach on the turquoise rug and propped her head on her hands. Staring at Aimi, she asked, “Did your Mom really kick your Dad?”

  “No. There’s no hitting. They just don’t want to live together.”

  Em thought about that. “Last week when I was there, we saw them kissing.”

  Aimi shrugged. “I think it’s more about America. Mom loves Japan so much, and Dad says he can’t live there. And if one of them has to be unhappy, it’ll have to be Mom because he’s the one making a living.”

  Em’s eyes were big. “Wow!”

  Aimi looked down, her thick black hair falling forward to hide her face.

  “Wow!” Em repeated. “And what about you? Will you live in America or Japan?”

  “I have to choose.” Aimi’s voice was small.

  “Wow!” Em whispered. “Wow!”

  “I don’t know what to do.” It was a pitiful wail.

  “Well—” Em started, but then stopped. What could she say that would help?

  For long minutes they were silent. Then Aimi picked up the Ken and Barbie dolls. She hefted them, as if she was balancing them against each other. “I think girls are supposed to be with their moms.”

  Em couldn’t nod or shake her head. She could only watch her best friend struggle to decide something so horrible.

  Finally, Aimi made Barbie kick Ken. “Stupid old Skerry,” she said.

  In the next three months, Em barely saw Aimi except at school. And then, Aimi and her mom moved back to Japan. They did a video chat now and then, but each time, Aimi was more Japanese than American. Her clothes changed and her English came with a hint of an accent. She had chosen to be Japanese and her choice came true.

  Dr. Bari wanted her to make a choice, too. He was so passionate about the Phoke. She supposed a race in danger of going extinct would need someone like him in order for his people to survive. But the cost to individual lives was massive. Bobbie Fleming had felt forced to give up her daughter for adoption; afterwards, Ms. Fleming refused to marry another Phoke, just for the sake of genetics. So she had no husband and no children, only a career and a difficult brother.

  Perhaps every adopted kid wonders: what would her biological mother’s life have been like if she hadn’t gotten pregnant? Was Em doomed to repeat her mother’s problems just because of genetics? Or did she have real choices? Because of her genetics, she could out swim most humans. What else was determined by her particular genetics?

  Em finally had her sandwich made. She sat opposite of Dr
. Bari, took a bite, and mumbled through a full mouth, “Did you know my father?”

  “I met Darien.” The words were clipped. Now he was the angry one.

  “You didn’t like him,” she said flatly.

  “Didn’t like what he did to your mother. She was so clear-headed, so determined, until she met Darien again in college.”

  Em couldn’t hold back the words: “But it was her choice, her life.”

  Dr. Bari took a drink and swallowed. He didn’t meet her gaze, just looked up at the ceiling. His voice was rough with emotion. “Did you know that Bobbie and I are twins? Growing up, we were always together. On everything. And she promised me, promised her twin, that she’d only marry someone who was Mer.”

  “Did you marry a Mer?”

  Dr. Bari nodded. “Laxmi lives in New Jack, our city in the Pacific Ocean just off Seattle. I work in Seattle but spend most weekends in New Jack.”

  “Was it an arranged marriage?”

  “No. I was sent to Jubal-Khan in hopes that I’d meet someone. And we were both lucky. Laxmi is a Phoke doctor, so we went through medical school together.”

  “And you wanted Bobbie to marry a Phoke, too?”

  Dr. Bari looked away. When he spoke, his voice was harsh. “With Darien, she betrayed me.”

  “She betrayed you?” Em was outraged. “You betrayed her. You no longer cared if she was happy.”

  “There were deeper issues!”

  “And you don’t like me because I represent her betrayal?”

  “In some ways, you remind me so much of your mom,” he said slowly. “Oh, your dark hair and something in the way you move—that’s Darien. You slouch, and confidence oozes out of you. He did that same thing.”