Reefsong

by Carol Severance

  The warden lifted a piece of fruit and sniffed it cautiously.

  “It's a mountain apple,” Pua said. “It has to be peeled.” She took the apple and slit the green rind neatly around the middle with her fingernail. Squeezing top and bottom, she popped the rubbery rind free and tossed it back onto the tray. She handed the juicy crimson interior to the warden. “The pit comes out with the skin, so you can eat the whole thing.”

  Pua licked her fingers. She scooped a handful of gemfish into her shirt front and then hopped up onto the porch rail. She sat on the wide, flat surface and crunched the sweet-salty treats as she watched the Earthwoman eat.

  When the apple was gone, the woman wiped juice from her chin, then carefully peeled and ate a second apple. She ate several of the tiny gemfish before finally reaching for the rock bread. Pua tried to keep her expression carefully neutral as the warden lifted a thin slice of the pasty bread.

  “No pits?” the woman asked, meeting Pua's look.

  Pua shook her head.

  The Earther bit into the rock bread. She chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed. “What's this made from?” she asked as she finished the rest of the slice. To Pua's amazement, she took anther piece.

  “Suckersharks’ dung,” Pua replied. “Preserved, then baked.” She grinned as she waited for the woman's reaction. Most Earthers grew pale when told the bread's source. Some even vomited it back, although Pua didn't expect the warden to do that. The bread's presence on the tray was Katie's way of testing the newcomer. True waterworlders considered rock bread a delicacy.

  The warden examined the bread carefully. “Tastes a bit like toasted termite larvae,” she said, “although the texture's quite different.” And she ate the second slice, too.

  Katie, Pua thought in amazement, is going to be seriously impressed. Pua couldn't help herself. She was impressed, too.

  “What's buried under the house besides your shells?” the woman asked softly.

  Pua blinked and leaned back against the roof post. “Nothing,” she said.

  The dark brows lifted.

  How does she do that? “It's none of your business,” she snapped. How does she always know when I'm lying? And just how to say things so I'll give myself away?

  “Does it have anything to do with the operation of the farm?”

  “No!”

  The warden poured a glass of water. She watched Pua over the rim as she drank it. “Okay,” she said finally.

  “What are you going to do about the number-twelve pen?” Pua demanded. “You can't leave it like that.”

  “Fatu's taking me out in the submersible first thing tomorrow,” the warden replied. “I'll decide after I've seen it and the rest of the farm.”

  “All you have to do is call for a harvest crew,” Pua said. “Or better yet, just blow it up and kill it. It's not any good anymore anyway. There's too much rot. I could taste it. Fatu and I could go right now and—”

  “We can't kill it until we find out for sure what's in it,” the warden said.

  “There's nothing in it! It's just stupid Earth algae, and it's killing my reef! My mother would order it burned if she was here! She'd send Katie out there to burn it before she'd let it go on hurting Pukui!”

  “I'm not your mother,” the mountainlady said.

  Pua pressed her lips closed. She blinked and followed the warden's look out over the lagoon. The sun was just disappearing, and the water and the submerged reef were beginning to shine. The rings, too, had begun to glow. The Earther stared and stared at the ever more brilliantly lit sky. Shadow would rise soon and begin moving across the rings, but now at early evening, the rings were full and high, stretching from horizon to horizon across the southern sky. Pua couldn't understand how anyone could ever want to leave this for the dark skies of Earth.

  She pulled her look back to the sea. The dark rectangle of the number-twelve pen contrasted sharply with the light surrounding it. And it wasn't the only pen dark enough to be concerned about. Something had to be done, and quickly.

  “At least order the cold water back through the outer pipes to lower the temperature,” she said.

  “The uninsulated pipes are closed?” The warden's surprise showed in her eyes if not her voice.

  “It's like an oven under there,” Pua said. “The whole center of the pen is completely dead. That's why it's so dark. Only the stuff around the edges is still alive. It needs to be destroyed before it breaks out.”

  The warden frowned as she continued staring out at the black pool of number twelve. Then her gaze lifted to follow the silver curve of the rings again.

  Pua stuffed the last of the gemfish into her mouth and slid off the porch rail. “Well, if you won't do something about it, I will.”

  “No,” the warden said. Her voice had turned that dead calm again. “You won't.” It made Pua shiver.

  “There are storms coming,” she said. “Didn't you see that one today on the bus?” She pointed toward the northeast. “We have to get rid of that algae before they come closer.”

  “The algae stays as it is until I say otherwise,” the woman said. Pua crossed her arms and met her look defiantly.

  “How much do you know about your parents’ research?” the woman asked.

  That made Pua want to laugh. “Enough to know that what Mr. Crawley is looking for isn't in number twelve.”

  “Do you know where it is?”

  “No!”

  The warden never moved. To Pua's chagrin, she was once again forced to be the first to look away.

  “The total-conversion enzyme is important, Pua,” the woman said when Pua finally dropped her gaze. “Not because it's something that can make the Company richer and more powerful than it already is, but because millions, billions of people are in desperate need of proper nutrition. This enzyme, if it does what you say it does, will make it possible to feed them. It will make it possible to move those who want to go to other planets where there'll be room for them to take care of themselves.”

  “They'll just keep having babies and fill up all the other planets, too,” Pua said. “Anyway, I don't care. My daddy cared and my mama cared, and what good did it do them? All I want is to save my reef.”

  “The two things are tied together,” the warden said. “If we're going to accomplish either one, we're going to have to work together.”

  “Why should I help you?” Pua demanded. “You don't care about me or Pukui. You're just planning to use us and then leave—and take me with you when you go.”

  “I never lied to you,” the warden said. “You knew all along I didn't want to come to Lesaat. I'm sorry if my needs don't match your personal desires, but I contracted to do a job, and now I have to do it—as best and as fast as I can.”

  “Well, I'm not going back with you!” Pua cried. She turned quickly away, although she was sure the Earthwoman had seen her tears. She could hear them in her own voice. “I can't.” She wrapped her arms around the porch post and hugged it tight. She pressed her cheek against the cool, polished wood. “I would die if I had to go back there.”

  The woman laid a hand on her shoulder. It was the first time she had touched Pua, aside from the arm wrestling and other exercises for her hands. Why were Earthers all so cold?

  “They killed my mama and dad,” Pua whispered.

  “They didn't kill your folks, Pua,” the woman said. “They tried to save them. That poison—”

  Pua spun to face her. The hand pulled away. “That's a lie! I harvested the loli we ate that night myself. There was nothing wrong with it! Somebody else poisoned us.”

  The warden started to speak, but Pua rushed on. “I got sick, too, Mountainlady, with the same symptoms. Only, if it was really loli fever, I shouldn't have, ‘cause I'm immune to it. Mama built it in when she made me. Besides, there isn't any bad loli at Pukui anymore. I guess Uncle Toma forgot about that.”

  “Toma?”

  “Yes, Toma. The guy at Landing that you almost talked into fighting with you right the
re on the wharf. He'd have killed you, too, if he'd wanted to.” Oh, you look worried now, Mountainlady. Now that you know your own life is in danger. “He's planetary supervisor, top Company man on Lesaat. And he was here at Pukui the night we ate the loli.”

  “I don't understand. Are you saying that you think Dr. Haili tried to kill you?”

  “He did kill my parents! The Company must have told him to, so he did.”

  “But why? The Company had no reason to want your folks dead,” the warden said. “According to Crawley and Fatu both, this was the most profitable farm on the planet while they were alive. Both their harvests and their research brought the Company tremendous profits. And the TC enzyme was much too valuable to take the chance of losing it.”

  Pua turned toward the stairs. “Well, they killed them anyway.” The woman caught her arm. Her long fingers snaked around Pua's wrist with a strength Pua knew she would have difficulty breaking. “Let me go,” she said.

  “Wait...”

  “I don't care if you think I'm lying!”

  “I don't think you're lying. You might be wrong, but I can see you're not lying.”

  Pua tried to pull away. “I have to go away from here,” she said. “I have to go back in the water.”

  “Take me to the farm control center,” the woman said.

  “Please,” Pua pleaded, no longer able to control her tears. “I won't do anything to the algae. I promise. I just have to go now.” She needed Fatu. She needed the rays and the touch of the sea. Le Fe'e, she cried silently. Please, I want to be home! The air, even the rich, moist Pukui air, was smothering her.

  “Just show me where the main comm console is, and how to open the cold-water lines to the growing pens,” the Earther said. “Then you can go wherever you need to go.” Her fingers loosened around Pua's arm. “We have to work together, Pua.”

  Even in her desperate need to escape the Earther's presence, Pua knew it was true. She hated that they were bound together. She jerked her arm free and led the way to the farm control shed in silence. She watched as the warden deactivated the lock, then followed her inside and pointed out the deep-water controls.

  The woman examined them briefly, then nodded. “Okay,” she said. “Go now. I can handle it from here.”

  * * * *

  Many hours later, the crack and splash of a reef ray's wings woke Pua. “What?” She blinked, shivered at the quick rush of her heartbeat, and panicked for an instant before she recognized the whisper of clicker-palm fronds and the distant rumble of the surf. She was home!

  “Fatu?”

  “Aye. I'm here.” She remembered now. Fatu had promised to stay so she could rest freely without going back to the house and chancing another confrontation with the Earthwoman. They had swum together for hours, until Fatu had grown tired. Then they had talked—about Pukui and her parents, about the Company's ban on harvesting and the futile search for the missing research records.

  “Stay away from the barrier reef,” Fatu warned. “I know you want to go there, but it's much too dangerous now. Company security is everywhere.”

  Pua sighed and agreed, and wished things could go back to the way they had been before. Despite Fatu's urging, she refused to speak of her time on Earth. He told her that Crawley had sent word that she was living with her mother's family at South Point. All those months he had thought she was safe. He pulled a necklace of tiny lemon shells from the folds of his lavalava and slipped it over her head. Then he held her close.

  “Tell me a story,” Pua had said then. “Tell me a happy story about how it used to be.” Her sleep, when it finally came, was deep and dream-laden.

  Awake now, Pua pushed herself upright, staying close to Fatu's warm side. She glanced up at the sky. Shadow was already disappearing into the western horizon. It wouldn't be long before morning. Fatu had draped his shirt over her while she slept, but his skin was still as warm as if he had been wearing the soft fabric himself. He gave her a quick hug.

  “What's wrong with the rays?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.

  “Dunno. They just came now. Something's got them stirred, that's for sure.”

  “Suckersharks?”

  Fatu glanced up at the sky. “Too late for the suckers. It'll be dawn in another hour. Looks like the whole pack's coming in close.”

  “Must be somebody in the lagoon that doesn't belong, then,” Pua said. “Poachers, probably.”

  Fatu shifted and stretched. “Phaa. Been so many poachers in here the last few months, rays don't even notice anymore. Let's go check the dock.” He rose and lifted Pua lightly to her feet. She kicked the sand free of her toe webs and folded them closed before handing him his shirt.

  She grinned. “The mountainlady's kind of fussy about bare skin.” She scuffed through the circle of moat grass they had scattered around them to keep the nightcrawlers off while they slept.

  Fatu slung the shirt over one shoulder. “So I saw.”

  He paused, frowning slightly. “You...” His look dropped to her waist. “You grew while you were away.” He paused again, and Pua was startled to see that he was embarrassed. His blush showed even in the ringlight.

  “What's wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing's wrong.” His laugh was almost shy. “It's just that you've started turning into a woman, Pualei. You need to be more careful around the others, especially the new Earthers.”

  “Why should they be more offended by a woman's body than by a girl's?” she asked. Pua knew she was changing, she knew what it meant biologically and was pleased by that—but she saw no reason why it should change her way of life. Her mother had swum naked, at least with Pua and her dad. Pua remembered the cool, comforting touch of her mother's skin after a long swim in the warm sea.

  “I'm not worried about them being offended,” Fatu said. “You just cover yourself when they're around, okay?”

  The ray pack swam close to shore again and slammed their wings against the water's surface, thrashing it into a phosphorescent froth. Pua glanced back at them. “We'd better go,” she said. “They're going to get hurt if they keep flailing around in such shallow water, and they won't go away as long as they can see me here.”

  “Let's take the trail,” Fatu said. “Better stay out of the water till we know what's going on.” Pua would have chosen otherwise, but deferred to Fatu's greater knowledge of the present state of Pukui's lagoon. She sprinted ahead along the narrow trail back to the house.

  The main house was dark, but the farm control shed was still fully lit. “She must still be going through the records,” Pua said, then jumped as the shrill whistle of the air-intrusion alarm shattered the night's calm. At the same moment, she heard the approaching whine of a flitter, closer than it should have been to have just then set off the alarm. Lights flashed on along the dock and throughout the house and grounds.

  Fatu gave Pua a push toward the control shed. “Get the boss lady. It's probably Toma—he likes to drop in at odd hours. I'll go keep him company till you come.” He moved swiftly away.

  The control-room door slid open easily at Pua's touch—a surprise, because the auto-lock had been engaged when she left the mountainlady inside earlier. The woman had either unlocked it or set it for Pua's touch. She blinked to filter her eyes against the bright light and entered. She covered her ears with her hands.

  The warden was kneeling on the floor in front of an opened console panel. She was soldering something to the back of a computer control board. A portable keyboard sat on the floor beside her.

  “What are you doing?” Pua shouted above the din of the alarm.

  “Rigging a makeshift security system,” the warden called over her shoulder. “Sounds like I caught something. What's going on?”

  Pua stepped closer. “There's a flitter about to land. Fatu said to come. He thinks it's Toma.”

  “One second,” the warden said. She snapped off the soldering needle and tapped a command into the keyboard. “I just need to—”

  A second alarm bl
ared, loud and low, a ululating waver that lifted chill bumps along Pua's bare arms. The pens! she thought. Security's back on at the pens, and somebody is out there!

  “Come on,” she said. “Something's wrong out at the growing pens. That's the number-twelve signal.”

  The warden gave her a quick glance before hitting another sequence on the board. Both alarms faded to silence. She stood. “The whole security system is a mess,” she said. “It was probably the flitter that triggered the pen alarms.”

  “There's somebody out there,” Pua insisted. “The rays tried to warn me earlier.”

  The warden ordered off the lights and ushered her outside. The doorlock hissed into place behind them. “Tell me about the rays,” she said, starting downhill toward the dockside landing pad. A flitter was just touching down.

  “I was sleeping on the beach,” Pua said, running a bit to catch up. “The ray pack came up near shore to wake me. They wouldn't have done that if something wasn't wrong. They don't like shallow—” She stopped. “It is Toma! What is he doing here?”

  The woman slowed her stride until Pua caught up. She looked out toward the growing pens. Too many of them were yawning black pits marring the luminous sea. “Is there any chance it was just the flitter, riding low, that scared your rays?” she asked. She glanced up at the sky.

  “Not unless it touched the surface,” Pua replied, “or dropped something into the water.”

  The warden's look turned back toward the flitter. “Okay,” she said softly. “Let's go talk to the Company man.” It was hard to be sure, but it looked as if the mountainlady smiled. They stepped into the brilliance of the spotlighted landing pad.

  “Warden, tell these two idiots to put away their weapons,” Toma demanded instantly. Pua was astonished to see that Fatu had a flare gun leveled against Toma's side. A shadow moved, and she saw that Zena, too, had a weapon trained on Toma. Zena was wearing only a loincloth, and her tight tangle of hair was pressed flat on one side as if she had just come from her bed.