by M. N. Arzu
“Yeah. But instead of one man, we got six. Apparently our bait was too tempting. Out of our six possible smugglers-slash-saboteurs, when this one flew into Sao Paulo’s airport, he showed up on the thermal cameras as below normal. He was automatically tagged.”
Around the world, many airports had been using thermal cameras to identify possibly sick people with high fevers, in an attempt to stop the spread of highly contagious diseases. It had become standard procedure in many of them, even when there was no imminent global threat. The USA, in agreement with other nations, had installed a warning for the exact opposite: suspiciously low temperature. So far, they had tagged ten individuals; those were ten possible identified merfolk for future reference.
“What happened?”
“We lost him for a while. We set up local bait, hoping to get him. He showed up, said he wasn’t interested, and left.”
“And you followed,” White pressed.
“We had enough to justify detention. Besides, we wanted to prove his non-human status. We found him two hours later at a party by the beach. Everybody was drunk, and he was picking an ugly fight with five guys. We went in claiming to be police, and it just made the situation worse. Someone hit him with a bottle, and what happened next is open to interpretation. We have more than one hundred accounts, as I’m sure you know. Some said he had scales all over his body. Some said he used his tail to sweep people off their feet. Some even said he jumped six feet into the air and disappeared into the ocean.”
“But people saw the scales. Or at least saw enough to realize he was a merman.”
The admiral nodded. “Then it got mixed up with the ‘police’ being there to apprehend him really being US people, and the whole thing became a circus in no time. We haven’t been able to track him since. He didn’t leave Brazil by airplane or the thermal scanners would have picked him up, most likely. And we haven’t located any other mermen that match his description. The Brazil incident, I’m afraid, is just a blip in our efforts, Major. You’re the one with the right bone.”
“I’d still like to watch the video, Admiral, if that’s possible?”
“I’ll have my secretary send it to you ASAP. But since I have you here, Major, would you like to share what the hell happened on the Honos this past week?”
23
Silent Words
The Institute for Marine Life Research had fifty-two projects going on at the moment, and none of them were about an underwater keyboard along with an underwater speaker so Higgs could talk directly to Drake, and Drake could write him back. Some poor aid in Washington was working to get that done, but in the meantime, both Higgs and Drake were left with low tech at best, and a lot of frustration between them.
Sitting by the edge of the pool, with his trousers all the way to his knees in a lost battle not to get wet, both man and merman tried to piece together what their next steps should be.
“It’s one hell of a misunderstanding,” Higgs said as Drake let him inspect the cuts on the lower part of his tail. Because the merman couldn’t breathe above water, his back had to be submerged at all times. But his head didn’t, and for the first time, Higgs saw the whole range of emotional responses in Drake’s usually well-controlled face.
It was saying, oh, please.
“You’ve just told me you don’t remember the last two days on board of the U.S.S. Honos,” Higgs pointed out, as he pulled out a tiny fragment of glass. To his credit, Drake flinched without moving his tail.
The one thing the Institute did have was underwater whiteboards. Divers used them to write and communicate with each other during research missions, and although slow in nature, they gave Drake a way to speak his mind.
How long? He wrote in all caps. They were both aware that cameras were recording their every move, and that certain information would be best kept secret.
“How long what, exactly? For the Navy to release you?”
Drake nodded.
“They’re not exactly talking to me about their administrative plans. I was brought here because they believed you would talk to me. At the very least help you out with this task,” he said, retrieving yet another small piece of glass. “You really should have let Dr. Greensburg clean up these wounds.”
Drake erased the board and started writing again, this time taking longer. If it’s a misunderstanding, why aren’t they letting me go?
“Well, one, you attacked a Navy captain. Two, they suspect you tried to sow discord by having this other merman come out to play, which some are labeling as merfolk terrorism. And three, you can’t breathe air, which is a worrisome medical condition, to say the least. They might all be excuses, for all you care, but they’re looking at anything that will give them the right to keep you here. At least it’s a big pool.”
This time, writing the new message took two seconds: Call Julian.
“I can’t even call my own mother, Drake. They took everyone’s cell phones. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait this out until all parties cool their heads. It hasn’t even been a full twenty-four hours since they pulled you out of the ocean.”
Frustrated, Drake underlined his previous message two times. “How do you want me to call him, exactly? With smoke signs?”
Getting angry, Drake went back to writing a long message, which he had to repeat a few times, as underwater writing didn’t work well for small lettering.
He needs to know I’m not dead. Everything will be complicated if he doesn’t hear from me today.
“I’m sure Major White is working on something.”
Where is he? Drake asked, frowning.
“Well, for starters, he did inform both the UN and Julian that you were missing as soon as they lost your suit’s signal.”
Drake’s eyes opened wide as he moved his tail into the water. The news surprised him enough that he actually tried to talk, but nothing came out of his mouth. Without air-breathing lungs, there was no air passing through his vocal chords, which meant he was essentially mute. Still, Higgs got the meaning well enough: What the hell did he do?
“He thought you were dead, and had to reassure Julian it was a merfolk attack, not that the Navy kidnapped you.” Drake raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Well, you weren’t kidnapped back when he was delivering that speech, and technically, you’re not kidnapped right now, either. You’re here for your own protection and to be questioned by the Navy. Are you going to let me see that tail of yours or not?”
Simmering, Drake left the whiteboard and marker on the edge of the pool and went completely underwater, and for a moment Higgs thought that was going to be it for the day. Instead, Drake surfaced at high speed, jumping out of the water and managing to land out of the pool, placing his hands on the floor and turning his tail around with some difficulty. This way, he could allow Higgs to work easily on the upper part of his tail, and the dozen cuts on his back.
Stunned, Higgs stared at him. He blinked twice until he realized that Drake was holding his breath. It was estimated that merfolk lungs could hold their breaths up to fifteen minutes, and this was a good time to test that theory.
Drake took hold of Higgs’s hand, and guided it to the lower part of his back, where his dark scales shifted into skin.
“Oh my…” Higgs said as he saw the burnt skin. “This must have been the point where the circuitry was fried.” He pressed a finger on the side of the wound and Drake automatically moved out of his reach. “Sorry. It’s a real bad burn. We need to treat that.”
Moving slowly, Drake reached for the discarded whiteboard, and wrote with impatient speed. He glanced at the cameras high above, and searched for an angle to keep his message hidden. I think they implanted a tracker there.
It was Higgs’s turned to raise his eyebrows. “I don’t think they would have risked making this worse.”
Drake thought about it. What about a scanner?
“To find a strange object in your body? How long can you hold your breath, again? You’ll pass out before we can even turn on the sc
anner.”
There must be something!
“Okay. Don’t despair. You certainly are looking at some tests to understand why you’re stuck in this form, and things will go smoothly with your cooperation. We just need to install the right equipment—and yes, it will take time.”
Drake narrowed his eyes, and hurried to write a new message: Get it from Brooks Inc.
They both locked eyes. “Hm. I like how your mind works.”
* * *
It was a big pool, indeed. Higgs had been kind enough to leave a digital clock displaying the time of day in the observation room, and it was the only reason Drake had to swim even close to the glass wall and human eyes.
He was in bad shape and he was in a worse mood, which meant he was not humoring any scientists, and much less playing dolphin and doing tricks. Calm yourself down, he coached himself for the hundredth time. He needed a straight mind and a clear strategy if he had any hope of getting out of here.
He’d thought that swimming in circles might burn his anxious energy, but it had only managed the opposite. Reaching the farthest corner, he dove to the floor and stopped moving. He needed peace and quiet, something the pool afforded him in spades—at least for the time being.
You need to let the shock and anger of being captive pass, and then you’ll get to your better mind. He nodded to himself and closed his eyes.
Higgs had left less than an hour ago, knowing full well that the Navy was itching to get answers, which Drake could give at the speed of a marker and an underwater whiteboard. There was also the question of his medical needs. The pain in his back had slowly abated, but his whole body still felt uncomfortably heavy. Slow. As he lay at the bottom of the pool, he let his tail extend all the way to the tip, and winced when he saw the state his lateral fins were in. They would heal fast, and the shredding didn’t hurt, but they looked awful.
He lay completely flat on his back, and after a moment, he shifted his tail into legs. The shift went without a problem, a few glass pieces that Higgs had missed falling off. He had dozens of little cuts that had sealed for the most part between shifts, and a couple of longer gashes that Higgs had said needed stitches.
But the stitches will only hold if I don’t shift, and that’s unlikely, Drake thought as he breathed deeply, lazily moving his feet. His body hurt, yes, but he was whole. Except for that little thing where he couldn’t breathe air, of course.
Chances were it was only a matter of time. Like a spasm, his body had to work out slowly to relax the cells. Dr. Greensburg had suggested another shock might do the trick, which was strangely hilarious in the midst of all that was happening. Drake was lucky to be alive, even if he didn’t remember a thing of the attack or the electric shock that had put him in this place to begin with. Like his lungs, his memories were likely to start coming back soon, but until that happened, he would have to trust the word of those around him.
At the very least, they’ll have to give me self-defense. How was I supposed to know they were trying to help me?
He chuckled without much humor. His back reminded him that this position was uncomfortable, so he went back to his tail and shredded fins. He hadn’t slept in the water in well over a century, and he wondered why. It was so peaceful in here, better even than in some Caribbean coral reef where predators would love to take a bite of him.
With his thoughts and mood under control, it was time to do an inventory of where he stood and what assets he had on his side: First, Higgs was a proven ally, who had connections to Julian and arguably his best interest at heart. Second, Major White also seemed to be on his side when it came to human-merfolk relationships; at the very least, the man knew Drake was his passport to future technology. And third, he had his mind intact, so it was time to use it.
Starting with getting some rest and allowing my body to heal.
The silence lulled him into sleep, his body relaxing in the most unlikely of places—until a loud bang scared the hell out of him a few minutes later, followed by insistent shorter bangs. A hammer.
More curious than startled, he reached the middle of the pool where he saw sporadic bursts of light. Someone was welding in the observation room. Voices came muffled, impossible to distinguish into actual words. When an electric saw started to cut through metal, Drake put his hands over his ears. The noise was too loud and strident to remain down there, so he rapidly sought the relative silence of the surface.
So much for peace and quiet.
Outside, equipment was being brought to the farthest edge of the pool, as men yelled at each other to be careful with the slippery floor. Was that Louie wearing a wet suit? Was he intending to join him in the pool? Someone shouted for help from inside the lab, and the three men left. Below, the banging had stopped. Intrigued at what was going on, Drake went underwater and reached the glass wall with a few movements of his tail.
An older man, maybe in his fifties, was reading some complicated blueprint with his back to Drake. The engineering part of Drake’s mind propelled him to be closer, until he had his hands on the glass: Those were the schematics to build a voice-activated control panel. They wanted to talk to him and for him to write back on some sort of Bluetooth keyboard that had to be projected into the glass.
So that’s what the equipment up there must be about, he thought, thinking that this plan was overcomplicated and would take twice as long as other much easier and cheaper technologies out there. I wonder if the Navy wants to impress me…
He didn’t notice when the man turned to look at something on his right, and then realized that Drake was there. The engineer moved back in surprise, the blueprint utterly forgotten as it fell to the floor.
Drake froze. For one absurd moment, he panicked at being caught, not only spying but in merform, and then he remembered his circumstances and felt like an idiot. But the man—the poor officer who had to have clearance to be here and had known all along that a merman was in the pool—was not only startled, but transfixed. Ever so slowly, he raised a hand to the glass, almost afraid of scaring Drake away. He looked like a six-year-old who was looking at a unicorn.
This man was looking at him to make a connection. And the strange thing was Drake wanted to make a connection, too.
The man’s hand reached the glass, palm open, and tentatively smiled at the merman. Drake reached out from his side of the glass, and smiled back, while letting his tail fall down, so the man could have a better look at him.
I’m a goddamn unicorn, after all, he thought to himself, for the first time feeling his mind actually at peace with his circumstances.
After a moment, two officers came back into the room, carrying a heavy-looking console. The man turned with the biggest grin Drake had ever seen, and signaled with his free hand to come look at him. They did, both staring in wonder, though now Drake was starting to feel self-conscious.
Okay, guys, I’m the stuff of legends, not a freak show. The youngest of the three walked to the glass and enthusiastically waved at him.
Well, you have their attention. What exactly can I do with three men and high-tech communication equipment? A moment later, it was Drake’s turn to grin like an idiot.
He swam up at lightning speed, barely glancing at the disappointed faces he was leaving behind. He reached the edge of the pool where he’d been talking with Higgs earlier, grabbed the whiteboard and the marker, and went right back.
Hi! He wrote, making the three of them shout in delight. I’m Drake.
The three officers read it and then went in search of a piece of paper and a pen. Finally, one of them took the blueprint and wrote their names on the back. In Drake’s mind, they were already dubbed Dewey, Huey, and Louie the Second.
I can help you install a better system in no time, he wrote then. The three of them looked stunned. The first thing we need is to get rid of that projected keyboard and start looking for a wireless ensemble.
Numbly, the three of them nodded.
Finally, things were starting to go his way.
Matthew was torn. Since the call on Tuesday, he’d been trying to turn around his deep distrust of Adrian with mixed results. On one hand, this stranger who wore his face and shared his parents’ inglorious past had crashed into his life as if that was the most natural thing in the world. On the other hand, if Matt learned today that he had a younger brother, he would move heaven and earth to find him.
Adrian was family—but then he wasn’t.
Adrian wore his colors, yes, but he didn’t know a thing about him. What he liked to do, what he liked to joke about, what he liked to hide. But then, wasn’t that what Adrian was trying to do? Get to know him? Because at the end of the day, they had both been robbed of the chance of having a brother, a blood-related brother, and it wasn’t their fault.
But aren’t Chris and the Squid, and even Scott, more brothers to me than blood will ever be?
“Brooks! Keep your mind on the line!” his coach yelled from the sidelines as Matt corrected his course. He was never this distracted in the water. Never. Swimming was the one thing guaranteed to get his mind off things, the water drowning his sorrows and problems with each arm he dipped into it.
Does Adrian love swimming? Not just as a merman, but as an actual activity?
He was supposed to meet his brother after practice, and as he reached the edge of the pool, he turned to look at the clock. He didn’t want to go.
Matt already had a family. One that he liked, even including Scott. Julian could drive him nuts, and some part of him had never forgiven him for leaving Chris at ORCAS without giving them a fight those first days. He liked his team. He liked his school. He liked this life. What did Adrian want, anyway? Was he after Julian’s fortune? Because any merman or mermaid could ask for funds and live the good life without a problem.
Maybe he’s after a family, a tiny voice at the back of his head whispered. Sure, Matt had a family, a good one, but what about Adrian? Wasn’t Matt his only family? Didn’t he owe it to his brother to accept him and treat him as family?