The inspector had noticed the others, also. He waved a hand toward the bus. “Get aboard,” he ordered.
The five tankers shifted their gazes to Angie. One of the women, Angie saw, was still having trouble focusing her new implants. She blinked repeatedly at persistent tears from her left eye.
“You the Pukui boss?” one of the men asked.
Angie nodded.
“You want us aboard that tub...” He eyed the inspector for a moment, then turned back to her. “...boss?”
Angie smiled slightly, then nodded again. “Now's as good a time as any. Tell the pilot to be ready to cast off as soon as I come aboard. Anything that's not loaded now can be dealt with later.” She stepped aside so the tankers could pass her on the narrow loading dock. “Pua, go with them.”
“Warden, please. Leave her here at Landing,” the inspector said. His voice grew quieter, more intense. “I'll see that she's taken care—”
“I can take care of myself,” Pua said.
“Your folks couldn't even take care of themselves out there, Pua,” he said.
“Don't you talk about my—”
“Pua, get on the bus. Right now,” Angie said. To her relief, Pua's hold on her shirt released.
“Look, Inspector,” Angie went on. “The girl is part of a deal I struck when I agreed to come out here. Check my contract if that'll make you feel better, but she stays with me.”
She straightened. “Now, if you or any of your committee members want to help get Pukui back on-line, you're welcome to come out and work shifts in the algae pens along with the rest of the squids. Otherwise, stay the hell out of my hair until I call for a harvest crew.”
His mouth tightened. He stared at her for a moment more, then turned to stride back across the hangar. Toward the flitters, Angie noted, not toward the committee hall. The ground rep was headed toward the hall.
Angie blew out a slow breath. That had not been a standard, by-the-book Company man. She turned back toward the bus—and nearly tripped over Pua.
“Cold spit on the fire lines, girl!” she snapped. “Don't you ever do what you're told?”
Chapter 6
Fatu tensed as he watched Pua settle her hands on her hips. He had faced that unyielding stance enough times himself to know that she would not easily give up now. Let it be, Little Fe'e, he urged her silently. Whatever fight you have with her can be dealt with later. Just let me get you away from Landing before they change their minds and take you back.
“That's not part of the deal, Auntie,” he heard Pua say.
The woman, the one who must be the new farm boss, stepped back, controlling herself visibly. She took another deep breath. “Pua,” she said, much more calmly than Fatu expected, “let's just get on the bus and get the hell out of here.”
Pua held her ground for an instant more, then turned abruptly and stomped the length of the dock to the hydrobus. She met Fatu's look as she approached, and he signaled her to release the bow and stern lines. She did so, stony-faced, and tossed them aboard. Zena had already activated the engines. Spurning the connecting walkway, Pua leapt aboard and strode to the bow without speaking.
Fatu tore his look away from her to watch the woman. She surprised him by waiting for his nod of approval before stepping aboard. Had he not been witness to her interchange with Toma, he would never have picked her to be a Company administrator. She carried herself with an air of self-assurance rather than self-importance.
She was not a big woman, although she nearly matched Toma in height. Fatu suspected the slimness was deceptive; she moved like an athlete. Her close-cropped, light brown hair and pale gray eyes proclaimed Euroamerican ancestry.
She wore work clothes, although not standard Company issue: dark green trousers and a paler green shirt carefully tucked in at the waist, and light but durable-looking leather boots. She won't be wearing those long, he mused. Not in our humidity. The leather would be gray with mold before the week was out.
Her skin tone was the same as Pua's, and her hands—Fatu found it hard not to stare at her hands. They were larger than Pua's, but otherwise looked identical. Had the Company biochemists found a way to reproduce Pua's hands genetically? It could mean the end to all our plans if they have, he thought. He forced his look away from the long, slender fingers.
The woman acknowledged him with a nod, then crossed the cargo-strewn deck to the stern, where Zena sat on a high stool before the control deck. At Fatu's signal, Zena deactivated the holding fans and eased the bus away from the dock.
Glancing back at Pua, Fatu saw that she had both hands wrapped around the starboard rail. Quickly, he did the same with his own. The slight vibration of Pua's fingernails clicking a message against the plastic rail was just discernable above the tremor of the bus's engines.
“Take me home,” Pua sent in Pukui's private language, and then, “Be careful with the woman.” Whether she meant for him to beware or protect, Fatu wasn't sure. It didn't matter. He had every intention of doing both.
He tapped a quick acknowledgment, then made his own way to the stern. Zena steered the bus clear of the harbor and through the narrow channel in the surf line. As soon as they reached the open sea, she activated the hydrofoil stilts and increased their speed. The hull lifted clear of the water, and the ride became swift and smooth. Fatu did not relax, but a great weight lifted from his shoulders as the Company-controlled settlement at Landing dropped swiftly behind.
The new squids were silent, as newcomers to Lesaat usually were. They stared around at the empty yellow sea or up at the sky, looking for a glimpse of rings that to their untrained eyes would remain invisible until evening. Fatu could still remember his own first sight of Lesaat. After more than twenty years, he still found the tremendous expanse of golden sea difficult to comprehend.
The woman was also silent. Her glance shifted from Pua to the cluttered deck, to Zena's dark hands on the controls, back again to Pua and again and again, to the horizon. She looks directly at things, Fatu noted. And she watches everything. She would take careful watching herself.
“How's she know which way to go?” one of the new recruits asked. “Those atolls make damn small targets, and the tapes said compasses don't work right here. Something about the planet's magnetic field starting to reverse or something.”
Fatu pointed toward the bow. “See those color changes in the water? That's what Cap'n Zena uses to keep us on course. That and the ever-diminishing stench of Company Admin back at Landing.”
He glanced back at the warden. “He should have paid better attention to the training tapes.” And if you don't know we're navigating by underwater beacons, you should have paid better attention yourself, he thought. She almost smiled.
“My name is Angie,” she said. “Angela Dinsman.” Her voice was pleasant enough, but she didn't offer her hand.
“I am Fatu o le Motu Poutu o le ‘aiga,” he replied. At her lifted brow, he said, “Fatu will do.”
“You waterworlders like long names,” she said with a glance toward Pua.
“Names carry a lot of meaning here,” he said. He nodded toward Zena. “Our pilot is Rozena Samuels Apirana. She's the best boat handler on Lesaat. If you need to get anywhere on the surface, Zena's the one to get you there.”
The woman acknowledged Zena's curt greeting, then looked back at Fatu. “You're the acting Pukui farm boss?” she asked.
He nodded. “You look surprised.”
“Not at you personally, just at your presence here. After the way the tankers were treated on the shuttle, I didn't expect someone of your rank to be here to meet them,” she said. “Do you always make the trip in to meet new recruits?”
“I do when I can,” he said. “We've been pretty short-handed at Pukui since Zed and Lehua—died, but meeting the recruits is something I generally try to do in person. Gives us a chance to get acquainted before any bad habits get started.”
He straightened. “We weren't told you would be on this shuttle until we got to Lan
ding. I'm afraid Pukui won't be prepared to offer you a formal welcome.” Why, he wanted to ask, are you riding this reef-loving bus instead of flying directly to Pukui in one of the Company flitters?
“There's no need for formality,” she said. “I'm just here to do a job.”
He nodded. “There's one respect in which formality would be useful.”
She lifted a brow. A woman of few words.
“Swimmers, especially those on Company crews, work better when there's a clear differentiation between them and the on-site boss,” he said. “The brief notice we got concerning your arrival listed you as Warden Dinsman. Do you object to being called Warden in front of the crews?”
“Warden is fine,” she said. Her look never wavered, but he detected a slight hint of resignation in her tone.
She turned to Zena, openly studying the pilot's tattooed lips. “Are you Maori?” she asked.
Zena nodded cautiously.
“I did a job in New Zealand once,” the warden said. “There was a problem at one of the geothermal sites near Taupo. One of the locals I worked with was called ‘Two Teeth’ Apirana. Is he any relation?”
Zena's brows lifted in surprise. “That's my mother's brother's eldest son. He was a pig-headed sonuvabitch back when I knew him. Has he gotten any better tempered over the last twenty years?”
“Without the earlier comparison, I'd have to say I seriously doubt it,” the warden replied.
Zena was quiet for a moment, then she said, “You know, I was the one who knocked out those two teeth,” and to Fatu's complete surprise, both women laughed. A point to you, Warden, he conceded. There weren't many who could breach Zena's reserve that quickly.
The recruit who had spoken earlier crossed to the starboard rail. He leaned out, looking ahead. “It all looks the same color to me,” he said.
“Yeah, puke yellow,” one of his companions replied.
“What's the matter, Itoshi?” the first tanker asked. “Water makin’ you queasy?” Fatu noted that the man called Itoshi looked considerably paler than he had ashore.
“Kick off, pisshead,” Itoshi replied.
Fatu moved quickly to step between them. He guided the ill tanker toward the opposite rail. “Cap'n don't look kindly on squids who chum her deck. If you're gonna vomit, do it over the side.”
He turned slowly back to the other man. “And I don't look kindly on troublemakers,” he said softly. “Any more lip from you, and I'll rip out your gills.”
The tanker took a careful step back.
“Si'down, squid!’
The tanker sat.
“Fatu runs a tight crew,” he heard Zena say, loud enough so the rest of the squids could hear. It was a lesson the two of them tried to apply early with each load of new recruits.
“How long have you been on Lesaat?” the warden asked when Fatu returned to stand beside her.
“Since they opened the Pukui reef, twenty years ago,” he said. “Lehua Pukui's family and mine are related at several places along the ancestral line. I didn't know her personally before coming out here, but when word reached my family compound in Samoa that she was looking for an Island-born algae specialist to help set up the farm, I was the one drafted.”
“Drafted?”
He smiled. “Not in any negative way, Warden. I was more than eager to come.”
“Are you a phycologist, then?” she asked.
“Of sorts. I know my algae, if that's what you mean.”
“Company trained?”
He shook his head. “I grew up in Tokelau, on one of the few Earth atolls capable of supporting an experimental algae farm. Our operations were minor compared to Pukui, of course, but I knew enough to suit Zed and Lehua's needs. The Company was willing to hire me on their recommendation, since I came a lot cheaper than a formally trained algae specialist.”
“Do you still work for the Company?” The woman's questions were unoffensive, but very direct. Fatu realized he had already revealed more about himself than he would have preferred, given the chance to think before he answered. He needed to be more careful. He needed to take a more direct role in controlling the conversation's direction.
“I'm a free landholder,” he said. “The Pukuis bought my contract from the Company, and I later bought it back from them, along with part of Pukui Reef.” Before she could respond, he added, “I'm surprised you didn't know my background already, Warden. Or did you?”
“Are you asking if this is a test of your veracity?” she replied. She laughed, a quick, quiet laugh. “I wish I had enough information to do that.”
“Why did you bring Pua back?” he asked.
That response surprised her; a definite touch of anger darkened her eyes. “Why shouldn't I have brought her back?”
And that surprised Fatu. He found himself suddenly back on the defensive. “I didn't say she shouldn't be here. I'm just curious as to why you brought her.”
The woman matched his stare for a moment. “Because she wanted to come.”
A light flashed on the control console.
“Storm sign to starboard, ten o'clock,” Zena said. She lifted her gaze toward the north-eastern horizon. The warden followed her look, blinking rapidly. Telescopics, Fatu thought. Good ones. He blinked his own long-range optics into use and studied the green-gray smudge barely visible in the distance.
“How close?” he asked.
“Still well away from Pukui,” Zena said, “but they're moving closer right on schedule. We've got big trouble comin’ soon.”
We've got big trouble happening right now, Fatu thought. He turned to the warden. “How much experience do you have with waterfarming?”
“None at all,” she said unhesitatingly. “I studied some Company tapes on the way out, but Pua tells me they're mostly inaccurate. Aside from that and a few news holos over the years, that's it. My experience has been primarily land-based, forest work mostly.”
“Damn,” Fatu muttered. Zena's jaw tightened. How in hell were they supposed to save Pukui when the Company kept sending them total incompetents? They don't want us to save Pukui, he reminded himself. At least not right now. That's the whole point.
The warden looked calmly from one to the other. “I'm an environmental anthropologist by profession,” she said. “A dryland fire warden during the interims, thus the title, such as it is. My specialty is cultural crisis intervention.”
“Are you Company trained?” Fatu asked.
“I'm a fully ranked U.N. troubleshooter,” she replied. “World Life just holds my current assignment contract.” The hair at the back of Fatu's neck lifted. No wonder this woman didn't act like the usual Company reps. This was it then—the Company was making its final move.
“Just how do you plan to solve Pukui's problems,” he forced himself to ask, “if you don't know anything about waterfarming?”
She studied him for a moment. “At the limited briefing I got, it was suggested I truth-drug the two of you and let you tell me the best way to proceed.”
Zena's long, dark fingers tensed on the control deck. The warden noticed that, too, before her calm gaze returned to Fatu's face. “I prefer voluntary cooperation,” she said.
“I'm sure you'll find that we prefer the same,” Fatu replied.
She nodded very slightly.
Fatu took a careful breath. Zena had focused her attention on the distant storm.
“I'm open to advice,” the new farm boss said.
Fatu blinked. He hadn't expected that. Well, he thought, it's better than following the former line of discussion.
“The Company tried a couple of other bosses after they took Zed and Lehua away,” he said, “even though we were ordered to do only maintenance, no harvesting. The first was a tough-assed bitch off one of the penal farms. First thing she did was up the work load, drop the pay, and start shaving the safety margins. The Company sent a full security squad out to back her up.”
He leaned back against the rail. Pua was touching it, too, but she sent no f
urther message. “Got herself lost inside a net full of overripe algae, that one did. The shift was shorthanded, on account of so many injuries, and they were already tired from all the overtime hours. Bitch's gills had clogged by the time the crew found her. Took a full day before we could get her body out, and by then she was pretty much algae soup.”
He glanced at the woman. “She was the first of three. Company finally stopped sending them. Till now.”
“And the security squad?” she asked.
“Still on-site, with orders to do serious damage to anyone who attempts a harvest.”
She nodded. “I appreciate your candor. I'll remember to stay out of overripe algae pens.”
Fatu couldn't stop a laugh. This was as cool a Company bitch as he had ever encountered.
“Pua's getting itchy,” Zena said.
Fatu and the warden turned toward the bow. Pua had removed her shirt and shoes and was standing beside the starboard bow. As they watched, she lifted her long fingers to twist her hair into a topknot. She tied it with a strip of cloth that she must have torn from her shirt, then lowered her hands and stood very still. She stared down at the water.
“What's she doing?” the warden asked.
“Waiting,” Fatu replied. Pua's skin flashed gold in the late afternoon sunlight.
The warden turned back to him. “Waiting for what?”
Pua moved again. By the time the warden turned back, Pua had stripped off her shorts. In one smooth movement, she stepped up onto the railing...
“No!” the warden shouted.
...and dove.
Fatu bit back a smile of relief. “To get home,” he said.
Chapter 7
The water closed over Pualei like a blessing. Her lungs sealed tight the instant her nose and mouth were submerged. Her gills fanned, sending a welcome surge of adrenaline through her system. She wriggled her toe webs free and grinned at the sweet-briny taste of the sea.
She dove deep. Down, down, into the crystal gold. Releasing the stored air in her lungs, she laughed aloud at the water's smooth, welcoming caress. Bubbles bounced along her cheeks and through her hair. The pounding vibration of the hydrobus engines slowed, telling her that Zena had retracted the running foils and dropped the bus to low speed. She was circling. Pua laughed again.
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