Reefsong

by Carol Severance

  “Damn it, woman, I said—”

  “My people are under orders to detain all strangers entering Pukui territory,” the warden said without looking at him. She ran a hand down the side of the flitter and squatted to look underneath. Then she straightened and turned.

  “I am not a stranger to Pukui,” he said. He met her look with a hard stare.

  “You are to me,” she replied. “Zena, get a crew on the bus stat. I may need you out at number twelve. Set your comm for local pickup only.”

  “What the hell do you—”

  “Aye,” Zena said, and was gone.

  “—think you're doing?” Toma finished.

  “Inspector,” she said, turning back to him. “Up at the main house, you'll find a requisition list logged onto the public net. I'd appreciate it if you would relay that list to your people at Landing along with your personal order to expedite. Use your charm or your authority, whichever carries the most weight. I want immediate shipment of the things available locally. Today if possible.” Toma's mouth had dropped open.

  “Also, I want you to arrange immediate transport for the Company security squads. I want them out of here stat. If World Life wants to play military games, they can do it outside my jurisdiction.”

  “Those squads were sent to Pukui to protect Company interests,” he said. “I expect that includes you, Warden.”

  “I expect both Pukui and I will be safer in their absence,” she said. “Fatu will escort you up to the house and see that you're made comfortable there. I expect Auntie Kate will even feed you, if I judge her right. In the meantime, I need to use your flitter. Fatu?”

  “Aye,” Fatu said, and nudged Toma away from his craft.

  “Hey, you can't take—”

  “Read my contract again while you're up there, Inspector,” the warden said. “Pay special attention to the section on troubleshooter's privileges. In the field, I am to receive unimpeded access to all Company resources. They set it up like that so expensive squids like me don't have to sit around on our asses while a bunch of desk jockeys shuffle paperwork and hem-haw over meaningless decisions. Come on, Pua. Let's go take a look at that pen.”

  And as suddenly as that, the mountainlady disappeared through the flitter's open hatch.

  The engine whirred back to life, and Pua hurriedly climbed inside.

  “Wait,” the warden said when Pua reached back to close the hatch. “Let me do that.”

  She reached across Pua and very carefully, very smoothly, very slowly, pulled the hatch closed. Then she closed her eyes and sat very still. Her long fingers trembled on the bare metal handles. Her breathing was shallow and ragged.

  “I never saw anyone talk to a Company man like that,” Pua said quietly. Except for my mom, of course—but she didn't think the warden needed to hear that.

  The woman laughed very softly. She took a long, steadying breath, opened her eyes, and finally leaned back. “Okay, Waterbaby,” she said as she strapped herself into the passenger's seat. It took two tries. “Let's see how good a pilot you are. Take us up.”

  “You want me to pilot?”

  “You know how, don't you?”

  “Yes, but...” No one but her father had ever let her pilot, and he had done it only when her mother was away from the reef.

  “Pua, I just did one of the hardest things I hope I'll ever have to do,” the warden said. Pua glanced back at the hatch. The warden nodded.

  “Not only that,” she said. “It took me five hours tonight to do a job I should have been able to do in one. I dropped everything at least three times. I broke things when I tried too hard, and then when I finally relaxed, my fingers started sliding into the cracks like warm putty.” She lifted her hands. “Do you want me to fly this thing?”

  Pua stared again at the long, trembling fingers, then slid eagerly into the pilot's seat. Grinning, she snapped on her safety harness. She released the landing brake and lifted the flitter from the pad as smoothly as a suckershark pack rising from the back of a dead ray.

  Chapter 9

  Angie held her breath as the flitter lifted. Asking Pua to pilot the light hovercraft had been a calculated risk. Fatu had mentioned the girl's skill during their approach to the atoll the afternoon before. Pua flew cautiously, slower than Angie would have, but Angie was relieved by that. An air race with a hot-rodding teenager was definitely not what she needed right now. She flexed her fingers rhythmically and forced her breathing to slow.

  “How'd you know I could fly?” Pua asked.

  Angie blinked a focus change as they approached the nearest of the algae pens. It lay like a dark hole in the phosphorescent sea. “Fatu told me,” she said. “He said your dad taught you.”

  Pua sent her one quick glance before returning her full attention to the viewport.

  “Looks like he did a good job,” Angie said, and that made the girl smile again. Angie relaxed into her seat. She glanced back at Mauna Kea Iki, the summit of which glowed almost as brightly as the water. She had no idea whether the light was bioluminescent from the trees themselves, or if it was simply reflected ringlight. The rest of the jungle shimmered and flickered with self-generated light.

  The sky was a true wonder, dominated by the sharp-edged rings of reflected sunlight. They were not far north of the equator, so the band of light lifted high overhead, slightly wider than if it were being viewed edge on. It lit the night with soft white light and, coupled with the bioluminescence on the planet's surface, threw shadows of great complexity.

  Several times through the night, she had stepped outside to study the progress of the wide shadow the planet cast across the band. It moved from east to west, like a giant sundial in the night sky. It was disappearing now as dawn approached. Angie blinked and returned her attention to Pua.

  Pua's fingers snaked over the flitter's operating deck with a casualness Angie envied after her hours of frustration in the farm control center. The advantages of her newly shaped hands for precision work were obvious, but she had not yet achieved enough dexterity to make such work easy.

  Abruptly, Pua's seriousness returned. “There,” she said, pointing with one long finger. “On the outer edge of number twelve.” She slid the flitter into a sharp curve.

  “Careful,” Angie said.

  “I knew somebody was out here.” Pua leveled and skimmed near the surface. She pointed again. “See the dye?”

  “I see it. Keep your hands on the controls!”

  Pua pursed her lips, but returned both hands to the control deck. The flitter's spotlights highlighted a fluorescent yellow stain spreading along the outer edge of the pen. “They must have triggered more than one canister,” Pua said. “There's enough dye there for at least two. Look. That's another release farther down. Whoever it was sure didn't know what they were doing.”

  Angie leaned forward against the viewport. “I don't see anyone.”

  “They'd have gone deep and then headed out the pass as soon as the alarm went off,” Pua said. “They probably left a big hole in the net, though. You should tell Zena to bring a containment crew right away.”

  “You hear that, Zena?” Angie asked.

  “We're right behind you, Boss,” came Zena's instant reply. Pua gave the cabin speaker a startled glance.

  Angie slid a finger over the open comm-line control, blocking transmission while she said, “Troubleshooter's rule number one, Waterbaby. Never make an emergency run alone without a real good reason. Remember? I told Zena to monitor the local comm channel. One of the first things I did when I got in the flitter was set the call signal. I opened the transmission after we were in the air.” That wasn't all she had done during those first few seconds, but it was all Pua needed to know about at the moment.

  Angie opened the comm again. “Zena,” she said.

  “Aye.”

  “Dye was released at the seven, eight, and eleven points along the outer edge of number twelve. It's drifting north-northwest, close to the net but very slowly.” She turned to
Pua. “Why is that? I thought the current was stronger than that in the outer lagoon.”

  “It's slow ‘cause the tide's about to turn,” Pua said. “Zena, you'd better secure the net before the tide changes, or the escaped algae's going to move toward the outer reef.”

  “Net-repair and containment crews are ready to swim,” Zena said.

  “It's all yours, then,” Angie replied. To Pua, she said, “Let's take a run around the perimeter. I'd like to see the place where you found the net cut before.”

  Pua pulled the flitter into a long, slow curve around the edge of the holding net. Her flying was as smooth as any Angie had experienced.

  “Why would anyone be going after this algae load?” Pua asked. “It's almost all rotten already. There's a lot fresher stuff in other parts of the lagoon.” She glanced across at Angie. “Most of that needs harvesting, too.”

  “Why would anyone be poaching algae at all?” Angie asked.

  Pua shrugged. “This is a research farm. People are always trying to get seed algae from our pens. They want to be sure they get samples of anything that turns out to be important.”

  Angie leaned forward. “What's that rough place near the end, inside the pen?”

  Pua dipped the flitter low again and flew directly over the algae. “I don't see—oh, that. I don't know. Unless ... Is Zena still listening?”

  “Aye,” the pilot said before Angie could reply.

  Pua frowned and slowed to a near hover. The rippling surface of the dark orange mass seemed to be bubbling softly. The seething action was spreading slowly across the pen. “Did someone inject antigrowth in this pen?” Pua asked. “It looks like it's covered with oil, and it's starting to bubble like it does before—”

  “Shit!” Zena said. “Get out of there, Pua. Someone must have accelerated the methane release.”

  “Hold your hover,” Angie said-quickly. She reached forward, ready to take the controls herself, but stopped when Pua did as she said.

  “Warden, you're sitting over a methane bomb!” It was Toma's voice. “One spark, and—”

  Angie elbowed off the comm. “Pua, we have to go slow or our own exhaust could set it off. Understand?”

  Pua had gone pale. Her hands were tense and trembling on the controls. She swallowed hard and nodded.

  “I didn't come all this way to get turned into algae stew,” Angie said. Get us out of here! her mind screamed.

  The side of Pua's mouth twitched. Her fingers loosened, relaxed, and very cautiously she slid her hands forward across the control deck. The flitter rose.

  “Port turn, very easy,” Angie said. “Don't worry about height. It's more important to reach the outer edge.”

  “Straight forward is closer,” Pua said.

  “It's also upwind, and that's where the bubbling started. Take us to port.”

  “I wish I was in the water,” Pua whispered as she maneuvered the careful turn. Me, too, Angie thought, and for the first time in a year actually meant it. She opened the comm. “Bus out of the way?” she asked.

  “We're clear,” Zena said.

  “We're approaching the net...”

  A slick of red-orange slid across the upper end of the pen.

  “Go!” Angie shouted. She was thrown back in her seat as Pua hit full throttle. A flaring sheet of flame flashed beneath them. Then, abruptly, they were over open water. The flitter bucked and almost stalled in the sudden rush and drop of air.

  “Steady the plates,” Angie called. “We're going to get hit...”

  The methane exploded behind them. As the shock wave slammed into the back of the flitter, Pua and Angie were thrown against their restraints. The jolt shifted Pua's hands on the controls. The flitter nosed down.

  Angie took the board without conscious thought. She fought the grav plates back under control and leveled the flitter. She counted a full, slow ten, then swung back in a low curve to face the burning algae pen. Smoke, blacker than pitch, roiled above a sheet of orange flames. A rough series of explosions rocked the far end of the pen, and streamers of spattered algae smacked against the flitter's ports.

  “Cold spit on the fire lines,” Angie muttered. She set the flitter to hover and watched as the flames leveled, flared again, then flickered and quickly died. When the last of them had disappeared, she took a deep breath. She blew it out very slowly.

  “Wow,” Pua said.

  Abruptly, Angie turned the flitter away from the pen. She dropped low and skimmed the surface of the water, causing a fan of spray to each side of the light craft. A creature that looked like a cross between a dolphin and a toad leapt raggedly across the bow. She held the flit on a steady course, snapping off the tops of the waves.

  “What are you doing?” Pua yelled. Her fingers were wrapped tightly around her safety harness.

  Angie glanced at her. She dipped the nose again, enough to drive the spray high up the flitter's sides. “Cleaning the algae crud off the windows,” she said.

  At Pua's look of disbelief, she laughed. “I'm getting rid of my excess adrenaline, Pua. What's the matter, don't you waterpeople get a rush out of nearly getting fried?” The adrenaline, and her sudden relief, this one instant of feeling free, made her feel better than she had in a long time. I must be getting back to normal, she thought, and the absurdity of it made her laugh again.

  Pua stared at her, then out at the flashing sea. Her mouth twitched. “You're crazy,” she said, but the twitch turned into a tentative grin.

  “So I've been told, Waterbaby. Here...” Angie lifted her hands from the deck. “Take over before I sink this crate.” Her fingers had started to shake again.

  Pua quickly reached for the controls. Despite her surprised giggle, the flitter's course remained steady. She really was very good.

  “We'd better turn the comm back on,” Pua said after a moment. “Zena can see we're okay, but Toma's probably still clicking his nails, and Fatu will be worried.”

  Angie looked at the comm control in surprise. She had not been aware of touching it off.

  “I did it,” Pua said. “While we were watching the fire go out.”

  “Why?”

  “I wanted to keep Toma waiting. That Company man's gonna swear dirty when he finds out we're still alive.”

  “Won't Zena have told him?”

  Pua shook her head. “Zena hates sharks.”

  That made Angie laugh again. “Girl, you're crazier than I am.” She tapped open the transmission.

  “How's the containment coming, Zena?” she asked without a hint of humor. Pua grinned.

  “Shit on a bloody reef!” came Toma's soft reply. In relief or in disappointment, Angie couldn't tell. Only his underlying release of tension was clear. The flitter wobbled slightly as Pua shook with silent laughter. It was clear what she believed.

  “Crew's in the water, Boss,” Zena said. Her voice, too, was entirely neutral. “We'll close the net and dredge the overflow, then run a perimeter sweep to catch anything the explosion threw over the top. That was a messy blow.”

  As they approached the bus, Angie could see a dozen or more swimmers in the water beside and beneath it. Half wore brilliant yellow bodysuits. The rest were equally visible in bright green. Blinking to close focus, Angie saw that they all wore transparent flippers.

  “Yellow for the net-repair crew and green for cleanup,” Pua replied when Angie asked the colors’ significance. “That makes it easier for the on-site boss to keep everybody organized. The suits protect the swimmers’ skin if they have to stay in the water a long time.”

  Angie glanced at the girl, remembering her glistening, flawless body when she had arrived at the landing dock the day before. How do you protect your skin? she wanted to ask. She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know.

  “Warden, you're going to have to issue a disposal order for this pen as soon as the overflow cleanup is finished,” Zena said. “Company says I can't touch it otherwise, and this trash has got to be removed right away, before it fouls the entire
area.”

  Angie gave Toma time to react, but the Company man remained silent. “Consider the order issued,” she said. “Is there anything else we can do for you from up here?”

  “Negative,” Zena said. “Squids are swimming smooth. Good training exercise for the new recruits. Itoshi! Get your ass in the water. You barf on my deck and I'll—”

  Angie touched off the comm.

  “Any reason why I shouldn't have issued that disposal order?” she asked.

  Pua glanced at her. “What do you mean?”

  “The Company has refused all harvesting, growth stoppage, and disposal of Pukui algae for the last six months,” Angie replied. “Now, on your first night home, the precise algae load you were most concerned about is totally destroyed. You know exactly what I mean.”

  “The only thing I saw or tasted in that pen was rotten bluegreen Earth algae,” Pua snapped. “Type 410 Standard, common food-additive mix. It's grown all over Lesaat. That batch should have been destroyed a long time ago, before it started messing up my reef.”

  Angie met her look in silence.

  “I didn't put the methane-release triggers in it, if that's what you think. I didn't set it up to burn.”

  Angie believed the girl, or thought she did. It was fireloving odd, though. The Company had managed to prevent the destruction of any Pukui algae for almost six months, then a full pen had been lost the first night Pua was back. Like so many other things that had happened recently, the coincidence seemed too obvious to be natural.

  “Do you know who did?” she asked.

  “No.”

  Angie leaned back against the seat.

  “But I'm glad it's done,” Pua said, “because now you have to get it out of there, and the sunlight will be able to get back to the reef. Not all of the coral is dead. It might be able to grow back someday, a long time from now.” There were tears in her eyes.

  Angie sighed. This job didn't need an environmental anthropologist, it needed a social worker and a private detective—and quite possibly a homicide squad, she thought with another glance at the girl.

  “Let's go talk to the inspector,” she said.

  Pua's frown remained fixed as she piloted the flitter upwind around the smoking algae pen and back toward the dock. As they approached the island, Angie said, “Set us down on the lawn in front of the house.” Pua gave her that same dark look she had earlier, when Angie had almost worn shoes into the house, but she landed where she was told in silence.