Reefsong

by Carol Severance

  “I presume the tunnel has been searched,” she said. Something about the way she held herself led him to believe she didn't particularly want to do so herself.

  “It was one of the first places we all thought of,” he said. “Pukui crews knew enough to time their searches to the tide changes, but the stupid Earther bosses lost three swimmers to the currents before deciding it wasn't a very practical place for daily work records to be hidden in the first place.”

  He took them back toward the surface and showed her each of the primary growing pens. Of the thirteen currently in use, ten showed the deep orange of mature algae, and at least seven of those were in serious need of immediate harvesting. It was obvious that the nets were straining under increasingly heavy loads of rapidly growing algae. Two had already stretched to the point of touching the cold-water pipes at low tide, and would soon be touching coral.

  “Has anything been harvested since the Pukuis died?” the warden asked.

  “Only the three pens that were fully mature at the time,” Fatu replied. “Zed had already given the harvest order, so when the Company started stalling on sending out the harvester, we decided to do it on our own. Good thing we did, too. Those reef flats would be entirely destroyed by now. Be fifty years before we could bring them back.”

  “How'd you harvest without a Company crew and barge?” she asked.

  “The old way,” he said. “Sucked it into the disposal-barge hold and hauled it to the old land-based processing plant.” He paused. “Company was real upset—sent an official inspector all the way out from Earth to complain—but they paid top credit for the finished product.”

  “Which was?”

  “Not what you're looking for, Warden,” he replied. “Just plain old 410 Standard.”

  “You're certain of that?” she asked.

  “Hell, Zed's the one who gave the original harvest order, and he wasn't sick at the time—nor plannin’ to be, I don't expect. Why would he order us to destroy a full batch of what was potentially the most valuable crop in the known universe? Why, for that matter, would he be growing the TC in open pens where any poacher worth his gills could steal seed stock?”

  He gestured toward to the bulging orange pens. “No offense to you, Warden—you're the first reasonable body they've sent out here—but the Company's got its nose up its ass letting this stuff grow out of control like this. Either that, or they're deliberately taking the chance of ruining the reef so they can reclaim the lease. Any real waterworlder knows what's in those pens out there. We can taste it. 410 Standard, every one of ’em.”

  “What do you mean, ‘reclaim the lease'?” she asked. “I thought Pukui belonged to Pua now that her parents are gone.”

  “Technically it belongs to the U.N., like every other reef on Lesaat,” he said, “but Pua will inherit her parents’ perpetual use-rights when she turns eighteen. That's if the Company hasn't taken them over by then. By law, World Life can reclaim any lease in the U.N.'s name if a reef is in actual danger of being physically destroyed. Theoretically, they would then step in to save it.”

  He paused. “I expect your presence here is the prelude to their attempt to take over Pukui. The U.N. requires a qualified, non-Company witness to attest to the severity of the situation. I'm sure one of their own ranking troubleshooters will suffice.”

  She frowned. Fatu turned the sub back in the direction of the barge.

  “I noticed in the farm records,” the warden said after a time, “that some of the original perpetual leases have been returned to Company control. Were all of those properties in danger of being destroyed?”

  He shook his head. “Most were taken as payment for overdue debts. Some because the leaseholders died.”

  “Why didn't their children inherit? The census sheet shows most of the first settlers started having kids as soon as they got out here.”

  “Unfortunately, the Company noticed that, too, years ago.” Fatu said. “They recognized it as the threat it was to their own perpetual control over the planet, so they got laws passed saying that only physically altered waterworlders can hold property leases on Lesaat. It probably sounded reasonable enough back on Earth, since most people know you need the alterations to operate the farms properly. But what it really did was disinherit all of the original leaseholders’ children. They don't give out long-term leases anymore. Three years is the upper limit before Company review and right to reclaim.”

  “Why don't the waterworlders send their kids back for the changes?” she said. “Some must be old enough by now.”

  Fatu adjusted the sub's position slightly to make best use of the current. “Two families tried it. They had to mortgage their holdings to do it, because the Company insisted on advance payment for the entire cost of shipping and recon. Neither of the kids made it through the tanks. One's gills didn't form properly—he drowned. The other never came out of the paralysis.”

  The warden's shock was obvious. It was clear she understood what he was implying. Whether it would make a difference in how she did her job on Lesaat was doubtful. Toma had told him that troubleshooters, this one in particular, were reputed to always fulfill their contracts.

  “So Pua is the only inheritable waterworlder,” she said.

  And her inheritance is the most valuable piece of real estate on the planet, Fatu added silently. Think about it, Warden. And if you have any honesty in you at all, do something about it.

  He nodded. “I never expected to see her back. I thought they would kill her. Or at least keep her. If I'd been at Pukui when she was taken away, I would have killed them before I'd have let her go.”

  “Where were you?”

  “On my way back from Landing with a load of new recruits.”

  She blew out a long, slow breath. “Is it possible this TC thing is a myth, like Pua's Le Fe'e?”

  “I've seen the results myself,” he said. “Ate nothing but waterwheat for a month and never felt better in my life. According to Lehua's tests, every essential amino acid my body needed for protein synthesis was converted from just that one food source. The only other things I needed were water, salt, and a few vitamin supplements.”

  “What form was the enzyme in when you took it?”

  “Powder,” he said. “Compressed into caplets, just like they do the 410. I only took it once. Lehua said it would be active for six months, but I decided a month of gnawing raw grain was enough.”

  “Do the Company doctors know you were one of the test subjects?” she asked.

  He watched her for a moment. “As a matter of fact, I never did bother to tell them. They took blood and tissue samples from everybody on the atoll when they first took over—more'n some of us cared to give, and without offering any choice in the matter. They claimed it was for health reasons, so they could do it legally. I figured if there was anything they wanted to know about me, they could figure it out by looking through their pissholdin’ microscopes.”

  “Why are you telling me?”

  He met her look directly. “Because I owed you one, Warden.”

  She frowned again. “For bringing Pua home,” she said.

  Fatu slowed their speed and began the wide turn that would bring them parallel to the number-twelve pen. “She said you're going to take her back.”

  The warden sighed. “I have no choice.” She did not speak again until they had reboarded the barge.

  Once there, she called Zena and Fatu into the wheelhouse.

  “As soon as twelve is cleaned up, I want you to burn and dispose of eleven and thirteen. They're too far gone to salvage,” she said. All the introspectiveness was gone from her voice. She spoke with clipped, precise efficiency—as she had with Toma the night of the fire. “Then start harvesting ten and move right down the line as fast as you can get the stuff out.

  “We'll use the local processing plant, like you did before, until I can get a Company harvest barge. Use every available vessel for transport of the algae; carry it in buckets if you have to. There's no p
oint in letting any more of this place die.”

  Fatu and Zena glanced at each other. Zena looked as startled, and as suddenly excited as Fatu felt.

  “We'll need a lot more crew,” Fatu said. “Klooney and his gang are scheduled for storm leave as soon as twelve's empty.”

  “Nobody's taking leave until we get this reef under control,” she said. “Make up an order for double, round-the-clock shifts and patch it through the house net. I'll see that it's filled.”

  A grin crept over Zena's dark features. “Aye!” she said. “The order'll be there before you are, Boss.”

  “Let me know if there are any problems.”

  Zena nodded and stepped back so that the warden could pass them on her way to her flitter.

  “Angela,” Fatu said quietly as she crossed in front of him. He held his breath waiting for her reaction.

  She turned back. Surprise, and deep, deep curiosity lit her clear gray eyes. It was the first honest familiarity either of them had allowed.

  “You do have a choice,” he said.

  Chapter 14

  The harvesting went slowly. Too slowly for Pua. She hated the taste of the overripe algae that was choking her reef. She chafed at the endless delays in its removal.

  Toma released two Company harvesters for work at Pukui, but both developed mechanical difficulties before reaching the reef. Three additional Company crews joined those already onsite, and while most of the swimmers worked willingly to clear the reef flats before more damage was done, some refused to go into the water. They cited the Company's six-month ban on harvesting at Pukui and their fear of losing personal work credits when Earth admin learned the ban was being ignored. The warden ordered the objectors back to Landing.

  There was a surge in progress upon the arrival of two private crews, made up partly of original settlers from nearby smaller reefs. They had finished their own pre-storm harvests and volunteered their services to assist at Pukui. Still, the job went slowly. Projects thought to be complete turned out needing to be done all over again; equipment malfunctioned or disappeared. Once, a stone fish got caught in the compression rollers and jammed the gears. Pua didn't think it had gotten there by accident.

  “Le Fe'e says the storms will be bigger this year,” she told Zena one morning. They were sitting in the wheelhouse together studying satellite weather reports. Zena was charting an updated forecast. “The tides are getting higher, too.”

  “That's because the moons are coming into alignment,” Zena said. “The highest tides will be when they cross right overhead. That'll be the most dangerous time.”

  “Can we get the algae out before then?” Pua asked.

  “Maybe, if we can keep the harvest moving,” Zena said, “and if we don't get a storm out of sequence. So far, the storm paths are staying pretty stable. See how they all start to turn north just above our latitude. They'll keep getting closer, but unless one decides not to turn away in time, we should be all right.”

  “It's a good thing they finally got the satellite tracking station working again,” Pua said.

  “Mmmm,” Zena replied. “We wouldn't dare keep live algae in the pens if we didn't know exactly how much time we have left.” A buzzing Net clear signal made her look up. “Well, it's about time.

  “Kobe!” she called. “As soon as the swimmers are clear, get that—”

  The blare of the Roll net order cut her off.

  “What—” Zena jumped to her feet as the compression gears engaged with a booming, metallic clang.

  “Damn it! Who ordered that roll? We never got a Swimmers clear—shit!” The emergency klaxon brayed, and the compression gears clattered to a sudden halt. Zena raced to the deck.

  “...Lacey's caught! Oh, damn...” A water-distorted voice, relayed through deck control, told the story. The net had begun lifting too soon, and one of the swimmers had been caught in the coral beneath its heavy folds. Pua ran beside Zena toward the side of the barge.

  “Lock it down, Kobe,” she heard Zena call. “Nothing—nothing—moves without my order. Is that clear?”

  “Aye,” Kobe's sharp voice responded. Pua could not remember ever hearing Uncle Kobe sound truly angry before. He had been at the barge controls, but she knew he would never have started the early roll. It had to have been done from the emergency controls underwater. That Zena had left Kobe in charge of the lockdown proved how serious the situation was. He was one of the few both she and Pua knew could be trusted totally.

  Pua unsnapped the safety clasp on her father's knife and dove. Zena entered the water right behind her.

  A flurry of green and yellow showed where the accident had taken place. Swimmers were frantically cutting net and vacuuming the resultant spilled algae as they tried to reach their trapped colleague. By the time Pua and Zena reached them, they were pulling the netter free. Her yellow bodysuit barely showed through a layer of algae sludge.

  One of the swimmers, dressed in the blue of a medic, immediately pressed an oxygen canister over the injured swimmer's face. Her gills! Pua thought. She must have hurt her gills! She saw then that what she had thought was algae smearing the netter's chest and shoulders was actually the woman's own skin. It was shredded and torn where she had been dragged across the coral by the lifting net. Blood swirled all around her limp form.

  Pua stayed well back from the injured swimmer, knowing that Zena would call her if she thought Pua could help. She watched the others, instead. The Company and private crews had separated into two angry, gesturing groups. There was surely more trouble coming. She saw Zena take note of the same thing.

  “All swimmers out of the water,” Zena signed and said into her shoulder mike at the same time. Kobe responded by giving the Exit water signal through the underwater speakers. The Pukui swimmers hesitated, but Zena angrily gestured them topside. She motioned to Pua to join them.

  A short-hop flitter was already running when they brought the injured netter on deck. She was lifted into it and, along with the medic, was sent immediately to the infirmary. Zena ordered all the swimmers onto the buses and back to the main dock.

  “But what about the harvest?” Pua cried. “You can't just stop—”

  “Nobody goes in the water until this thing is settled,” Zena said. “Stay out of it, Pua. Ehu, where's Klooney?”

  Pua knew there was real trouble then, because it had to have been Klooney who had activated the net controls. As Company boss, he was the only one who had access.

  “He's on the Company bus,” Ehu said, and they turned to see the overloaded bus already making its way back to the dock.

  “This time, I'm gonna kill that bastard,” Zena said. “Come on, get the rest of the squids on the bus. Let's go.”

  “You want me to call the warden?” Ehu asked.

  “No! And leave Fatu out of it, too. This one's between Klooney and me.”

  Pua didn't wait for more. She dove back into the water, clicked a call to the rays, and an instant later was racing toward the dock herself.

  She reached it well before either of the buses. The flitter had landed and the injured netter was just being carried into the infirmary. Pua ran to the dock comm. She called Fatu first. He was at the processing plant on the other side of the island.

  “Call the warden,” he said after her hurried explanation. “I'll get there as fast as I can.”

  Pua got no answering signal from either the main house or the farm shed. She cursed, and began running uphill.

  “Come on,” she yelled when she saw the warden on the house lanai. She waved her arms and motioned for the woman to join her. “There's trouble down at the docks.”

  “What's wrong?” the warden called. She was already sliding into her boots.

  “Another Pukui swimmer got hurt,” Pua said. She stopped, panting, at the bottom of the stairs. “Zena made everybody get out of the water. She said she's going to kill Klooney, but he's a lot bigger than she is. He'll—”

  “Where's Fatu?” The warden came down the stairs in
three long steps.

  “At the processing plant. He's coming. Zena said not to, but I called him anyway, from the dock comm.”

  “Why didn't you use it to call me?”

  “It didn't work. I think somebody cut the lines.”

  The mountainlady's curse was one worth remembering. Pua followed her across the lawn at a run.

  Klooney had already come ashore. He stood surrounded by Company swimmers. The bus with Zena aboard was just approaching the dock. As soon as it was close enough, Zena leapt ashore.

  “You sonuvabitch,” she yelled as she ran toward Klooney. “I'll rip your gills—”

  “Hold it!” the warden called. When Zena didn't stop, the warden stepped between her and Klooney. Zena tried to get around her, but was stopped by two of the Pukui crew.

  “Stay out of this, Warden! This is my fight!”

  “Let ‘er come!” Klooney called. The Company swimmers had formed a loose group behind Klooney. Most looked as if they would rather not be there, but Pua knew they would all take part if a fight started. Watercrews never broke ranks in arguments with outsiders. They had to depend too closely on one another when they went back to the nets. The Pukui crew stood in a solid block around Zena.

  Zena tried, but was unable to break away from those restraining her.

  “What's going on here?” the mountainlady asked. Stall them, Pua urged silently. At least until Fatu gets here.

  “I'll tell you what's going on,” Zena called. “He just lost Pukui another swimmer. A recruit, on-line only three days. This reef-sucker sent her under the net without a backup, and then called a roll before she was out.”

  “Standard procedure,” Klooney snapped. “The roll is ordered as soon as a Net clear signal is received.”

  “She signaled that the net was clear, not that she was!”

  “If you can't train your squids right, you shouldn't be dropping them in the water,” Klooney shouted back.