by M. N. Arzu
Adrian shook his head. “Even if I trusted them, I’ve done things your Council wouldn’t approve of.”
“They won’t hold it against you. Not when you’re facing the Navy. You’re the victim here—”
“Don’t call me that.”
Coldness invaded Matt’s mind, the same energy he’d felt last week when he’d attempted to spy on Adrian. Here was the man who wouldn’t have mercy on an enemy. Here was the side of Adrian that every Brooks felt and distrusted.
Adrian sighed. “Come with me, Matt. For a couple of days. Let us be brothers for once. Julian has his hands full with Coleman and Drake. He’ll be more than happy to know you’ll be out of that mess for a while.”
He should’ve said no. And maybe in the end, he would regret it—but Matt had the strangest feeling that this was his only real chance of knowing his brother. That saying no now was saying no to Adrian as a whole. And you don’t abandon family, do you?
* * *
Christopher’s worry took over their connection as Julian was finally free to walk out of his office. Patrick O’Connor had the videos—and Adrian Thorne had his son.
He reached the private elevator when his phone vibrated, and relief flooded him at seeing Matt’s number. He was already too far away for any telepathic link to form properly.
“Where are you?”
“With Adrian. Listen—”
“I’m coming for you right now—”
“No. Dad. I’m calling so you don’t worry and—and to apologize for leaving abruptly. He wants us to go away for a couple of days.”
Julian froze, the doors of the elevator opening with a ding.
“Is he making you—”
“No. He’s not making me do anything. Dad, he was taken by the Navy two months ago. It’s—it’s a rather long story, but you should know there’s a bug in your study at home. He didn’t have a choice, okay? But he’s come clean now.”
Julian’s mouth became dry, making it hard to swallow. “You can’t trust that man,” he said above a whisper.
“I know,” Matt said, resigned. “But there are some things that Adrian and I need to talk about. That I need to understand. I know you have your hands full with Drake, and that this is the worst time for you—but it’s the only time for me.”
There was a plea there, a longing for Julian to say it was okay. An acknowledgement that there were many reasons to say no, but still…
“Are you sure, Matthew, that everything’s okay?”
“No. But he’s my brother.”
Matt hung up, leaving only a deafening silence in the air.
* * *
Patrick watched the videos for the third time straight. In front of him, Kate and Jeff were also watching them on their computers, while their editor had an emergency meeting with the entire staff at Veritas to organize how they were going to release the story. From how much traffic their servers could handle, to who would contact which news agencies around the world, they were preparing as far and as well as they could.
“I can’t believe Julian Brooks had this the whole time, and he wouldn’t release it,” Jeff said, crunching on chips without even paying attention.
“He has a point,” Patrick said. “Going against the Navy could make things worse for Ray.”
In the video, two men were facing Ray behind the glass wall. He was writing something on a whiteboard with his back to the camera. The intricate design of the tail with the casual movement it made assured Patrick he was real but… wasn’t Ray’s tail blue?
“Maybe we don’t have to go against the Navy…” Kate said, looking at Patrick and then at Jeff. “He’s clearly working with them. There’s no funny business or cruelty or anything remotely wrong with these videos. He looks healthy and engaged.”
“As far as Julian Brooks says, Ray was basically kidnapped, but it’s unclear if Ray knows that,” Patrick said.
“Right. And Julian certainly knows better than us what’s going on. But no one likes bad press, much less Washington and the Pentagon.”
“What do you have in mind?” Patrick asked, curious.
“We want a happy ending for Ray, right?”
“We want to tell the truth about Ray,” Patrick corrected, frowning.
“Of course, but we can tell a nicer version of the truth. What I’m saying is, if what we’re worried about is the Navy getting mad because they’re the bad guys, then we need to make them the good guys.”
Patrick looked at her, and then at Jeff, and finally at the frozen screen where Ray was reading whatever the human technicians were telling him. Kate’s plan clicked. “I think this might work better if I call some friends.”
37
Live
It was on every channel. Both Diana and Nathan braced themselves for the onslaught of information and misinformation that was about to hit their desks. In the UN conference room, eight screens were turned off, while the bigger one displayed the latest breaking news cycle.
“In an unexpected twist to the merfolk story we’ve been following since September, Veritas Co. has just released ten videos showing that Ray is alive and well. The first merman to ever make contact with human civilization was declared dead by ORCAS, the United Nations, and the US government eight months ago, bringing a host of unanswered questions as to why—”
Nathan changed the channel, while Diana took notes.
“If this is true,” the host said on the new network, “this will vindicate dozens of conspiracy theories that have been surfacing in the last couple of months!”
Diana winced. Conspiracy theories were the things that kept her awake at night. She dismissed almost all of them, but there were a couple out there that had more than one truth in them. Those were the dangerous ones, because those embers of truth validated dozens of irresponsible lies.
Rolling his eyes, Nathan clicked on.
“We are still waiting for confirmation about the veracity of the videos we’re about to show you, but anonymous sources have come forward to say the Navy has had custody of Ray for the last couple of weeks, and are looking forward to his release after months of medical care.”
Nathan muted the TV. “Why is Veritas saying that the Navy wants to release Ray? Didn’t Julian tell Patrick that they had taken him away?”
“That was the plan, yeah,” Diana said, looking at her notes. This was the third mention of the Navy being involved in a positive way. The story the media was telling was that these were leaked videos ahead of the Navy’s triumphant announcement that yes, Ray was alive, and yes, they were going to release him.
The videos had hit the world less than an hour ago. The UN committee was convening in ten minutes for damage control. She could only imagine the Navy was doing the same. They both had to say something, preferably something coordinated, but silence and denial were out of the question.
In her own merfolk corner, the Council was also meeting to discuss Adrian. She’d filled in Julian with Major White’s information about the Navy detaining Matt’s brother for two weeks. He hadn’t sounded surprised, but rather resigned.
Nathan changed the channel once more.
“The Sea Watchers International for Men-Merfolk Equality Relations organization, or SWIMMER for short, has released a statement profusely thanking the Pentagon and the Navy for the excellent care and initiative to safeguard the life of the merman, lending credit to the news that the Navy has been working carefully on Ray’s rehabilitation.
“Stay with us as experts weigh in on the implications of Ray’s communication abilities and intelligence, and how groups are mobilizing for the prompt release of this legendary being.”
* * *
As luck would have it for Drake, Admiral Coleman had made two mistakes.
The first one had been informing Drake that the Council knew where he was. Granted, the admiral had added more guards, and was reasonably sure that Drake couldn’t breathe outside of the pool, but in his haste to prove how far ahead of the merfolk he was, he’d disclosed
vital information for Drake’s plan.
The second one had been his keyboard connectivity privileges. The minute Coleman had seen firsthand that Drake was able to hack the system and get a message out, he should have reverted to the whiteboard and the marker immediately and permanently. Instead, he was relying on his own experts to monitor Drake, and thought that the merman wouldn’t be able to do anything with all eyes on him. Sooner or later, Drake would get his hands on that keyboard again, and all he needed were a couple of minutes for things to get rolling.
He’d sent Julian the videos three days ago. Veritas had to be hours away from publishing them, tops, so Drake was constantly looking at the time, waiting to be summoned. Coleman—or some other official—was bound to come and demand an explanation. That was all he needed, a sign that those videos were out. Even Higgs himself could be the bringer of that news.
“You seem anxious today,” Higgs commented. As Coleman had said, the Council knew where he was, and that was thanks to the Brooks Inc. equipment that was right next to him, ready to be used.
Drake resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He’d been silent for a week, and relying on facial cues to talk was as helpful as it was dangerous. He was already saying too much without opening his mouth.
Any news? he wrote on the whiteboard.
“Admiral Coleman seemed rather smug yesterday. He’s also implying that my time with you is coming to an end, I’m afraid. Other Navy doctors and scientists are confident they can take care of you.”
I’ll bite them, Drake wrote, drawing sharp teeth around his words. Higgs laughed, and Drake innocently smiled. All this time, the merman had been working towards getting free. His overall plan was more like a gamble, really, one where the other half of the participants couldn’t see him. This plan could go wrong in so many ways that Drake had to be realistic about a prolonged stay with the Navy. Major White might argue for a diplomatic approach, but Admiral Coleman wasn’t going to let him go without some serious leverage on his part.
And he’s going to thoroughly despise me after I do this, even if I fail.
The sound of a helicopter filled the air. And then another. Soon, both Higgs and Drake looked up to see four apache helicopters flying over their heads.
Someone’s expecting company, Drake thought, hope rising in his chest. If Coleman was expanding security to this level, it could only mean that he was expecting some sort of rescue attempt.
Below, the observation room was filling with people. Anxious people. Higgs raised questioning eyebrows to him, and Drake shrugged. A minute later, Lewis came with his keyboard, and it took everything in Drake not to shout in joy.
“He’s really pissed off,” Lewis murmured, while Drake hastily wrote on the whiteboard, stay here, and showed it to both of them. He exchanged the whiteboard for the keyboard, but instead of diving to meet the admiral, he stayed right there. He connected the keyboard to the surface monitor and started typing, the backdoors he’d left last week in the system code waiting for him.
“Drake?” Lewis prompted with urgency, not understanding why the merman wasn’t meeting with his superior. Drake ignored him.
Where are you? Where are you? he thought, as lines of code showed up on the screen.
“What are you doing?” Lewis asked, turning to see the rapidly moving lines.
There! With one final enter, Drake let out the breath he’d been holding, and nodding to himself, he retook the whiteboard and the marker, and let the keyboard sink.
“Drake?! What is he doing?” Lewis asked Higgs, but it was the last thing Drake heard as he finally made his way to Coleman.
Fifteen officers were in the room, all looking serious and menacing, but Coleman’s expression was the best: he was furious.
“You think you can have your friends playing games without consequences?” Coleman said, his words appearing on the monitor facing Drake.
Hello, Admiral, Drake wrote with large letters on the whiteboard, a smile on his face.
“Where the hell is the keyboard?”
Thank you for teaching me so much.
“What do you think you’re doing?” the admiral asked, suspicion filling his face as Drake continued to write on the whiteboard, completely ignoring Coleman's words on the screen.
Thank you for taking care of me.
“If you think for a minute that the ruse your Council is playing with the public is going to work—”
I think it’s time I leave.
Coleman read it, his eyes narrowing as the people behind him started looking at each other. “You won’t leave this place until I have my answers. All of them.”
Drake gave a rather gracious back flip, showing the length and agility of his tail.
I’m all right now. I can make the trip.
“Sir,” an officer behind a computer must have said, because everyone turned to look at him.
It’s time for me to go home.
Coleman started yelling, and Drake looked up in time to see the red lights of the cameras being turned off. He’d just broadcasted live to the whole world a merman writing messages to the Navy. Messages that proved he was intelligent and capable of communication.
Messages about how much he wanted to leave.
With a little luck, the world had been watching.
* * *
“He did what?” Scott asked, his food forgotten.
“Not did. He’s doing it now!” Alex said, perplexed at seeing Drake in merform, writing on a whiteboard. Alex had been following the developments of the Veritas videos on the net, planning to release with Gill the other seven they had during the week.
The whole world was glued to their screens as they followed the story, when a livestream had started. Two minutes had been broadcasted already when Alex found it. Thousands were already watching it, and the number was growing exponentially.
His phone rang as adrenaline ran in his veins. “Get Dad,” he told Scott before picking up the call.
“Is it real?” Gill asked on her side, breathless.
“Yes! We need to expand the audience—”
“We’re already on it. Ray’s using one of our main accounts. How does he even know we’re SWIMMERs?”
Alex smiled. “Because Ray knows everything. If you think you and I are good at computers, we have nothing on him.”
On the screen, Drake was writing again. The angle of the camera was coming from a few feet above him, and the only audio was that of underwater sounds, which were basically nonexistent. On his whiteboard, in large letters, he’d written, I think it’s time I leave.
“Dad’s going to totally flip at this,” Gill whispered, completely enthralled.
“My dad, too,” Alex said, watching Scott taking his shirt off and jumping into the pool to reach both Julian and Chris.
“You didn’t plan this?” Gill asked.
“We planned for the videos. We had no idea Ray could livestream.”
The camera only showed Drake, so whoever was talking to him wasn’t showing up. They could only guess what the answers were to this one-sided conversation.
“He’s capitalizing on the videos going live,” Gill said, the sound of keys going at lightning speed coming through the call. “Everyone’s already talking about them, and now this? He couldn’t have picked a better time.”
Drake’s my hero, Alex thought, as his uncle backflipped on live TV. He’d never thought he’d see a real merman openly showing their tail to the world. On the screen, the whiteboard read: I’m all right now. I can make the trip.
“Is he trying to convince someone to let him go?” Gill asked, confused.
“And being rather nice about it, yeah,” Alex said, as his family started to get out of the pool. His family minus Matthew. Julian and Chris had been trying to trace him, not believing that Matt’s phone was with Matt at all.
Picking up his laptop, he moved to the pool area to show them. “Drake’s putting on a show,” he stated. “He’s livestreaming the whole thing.”
; On large letters, Drake wrote, It’s time for me to go home.
The livestream abruptly ended after that.
* * *
The last time Major White’s life had been this complicated, a merman had washed up on a beach in Maine. It was only fitting that a merman was the center of the complicated talks he was having right now.
“I advised the Navy, several times, that holding Drake against his will was only going to backfire,” White said to his superiors as more and more people in Washington were playing the pointing fingers game.
“The Navy has every right to hold him after the attack on the submarine!” an admiral said at the end of the table. White had no idea who he was. He’d been talking for four hours nonstop with dozens of officers, politicians, and lobbyists, sometimes for a few seconds, sometimes for a few minutes, but rarely more than that.
The conference room held six TV monitors, and out of the six remote participants, White only knew two of them: the Secretary of Defense and Admiral Coleman himself. The man had yet to speak, and his face was as serious as ever.
“What matters here is what we’re going to do now,” the Secretary of Defense said, silencing both men. “Is it worth it to keep the merman in captivity?”
White looked at the man on the monitor. “They are already showing a willingness to work exclusively with us. Antagonizing them will not only cut our thin ties with them, they might decide that working with other nations might be better. And with all due respect, sir, we have no idea what they’re truly capable of. This—this stunt they’ve pulled off by using our own technology is proof of how ingenious they can be.”
“The intelligence community has gathered troubling information regarding them,” the admiral from before interrupted. “They live long lives, but we don’t know how long. They hide their own headquarters, population number, biological skills, and most disturbing of all, their intentions. Who knows what off-world communications they have?”