Deluge

by Anne McCaffrey

  Yes, but not a swimming team.

  And he jumped back into the water, swam, and caught his own fish.

  “If that don’t beat all.” The captain’s voice rumbled down to the water as Sky struck out once more away from shore. “That’s not just any otter we’re dealing with here, Lloyd.”

  Behind him Sky heard the boat’s motor roar. Soon, he knew, he would leave it behind, would be far from shore and all alone.

  But when he looked up to see if there was land in front of him yet, the boat was a short distance behind, Zuzu sitting at the bow while the captain stared forward through a metal thing with two bright shiny eyes.

  Hundreds of waves later, when he looked up again, the boat was still there, Zuzu was still in place, and the captain was still watching.

  This kept happening. Sky got used to it.

  He was the leader and the boat was following him. He was its alpha otter. It would follow him anywhere.

  But the next time he looked up he had to wonder. Where in anywhere was he, and where did he want to go? Where the river seal twins were, of course. But where was that? There was nothing but sea here. He was a river otter first, an estuary otter with sea otter cousins second, and then a Sky otter. He liked to see a bit of coast, especially when he was alone.

  So when he looked up again and saw the boat, Zuzu, and the captain with his glassy eyes thing, he felt, not lost exactly, but undecided. The captain lowered his glassy eyes and spoke to the other man. Then, walking toward Zuzu, the captain put a hand on her shoulders and Sky heard her thought-purr.

  The man raised the glassy eyes to his own again with one hand, took the hand off Zuzu, and waved his arm in a direction. He did it once, twice, three times. The boat turned toward where his arm pointed. Then he waved to Sky and made a beckoning motion.

  It was good to be alpha otter, but tag was a good game too. Sky struck out with renewed energy, anxious to get ahead of the boat in this new direction so he could once more be in the lead.

  CHAPTER 16

  CHRISTIAN LED MARMIE and Adrienne down long corridors, past the cells, down flights of steps into a low-ceilinged ill-lit plascrete bunker whose narrow hallways branched and rebranched until Marmie was sure they had walked at least the same distance through this underground area as they had walked through the prison above.

  “Is this the dungeon?” Adrienne asked in a whisper.

  “It’s a multipurpose area. There are cells down here and some interrogation rooms.”

  “No doubt,” Marmie murmured. From the tunnel-like passageways to the left and right issued the scents of mold, decay, whiffs of human excrement and urine, and something worse. She tried very hard to recall her association with Christian and his mother, hoping it had been entirely positive and that he had no reason to seek retribution against her. If she had given offense, she certainly didn’t see how, but then she seldom did. She was not herself a petty person and did not understand the petty grudges some individuals seemed to collect as if they were objects of beauty.

  “Also hard copy files and storage,” he added after they had turned into a new aisle. He stopped outside the third door and turned an old-fashioned key in an old-fashioned lock.

  They entered what looked like another long cell block, but behind the bars were shelves of moldering cardboard boxes.

  “This is the oldest part of the prison,” Christian told them. “Anyone who has particularly displeased his or her superiors gets assigned to do a little filing down here. Starting back there.” He nodded to the point where the corridor and its cells disappeared despite the codelike flashing of the extremely unstable-looking overhead lights.

  A desk with piles of printouts sat between the door and the first two cells in the place where a guard station would normally be situated.

  He picked up a clipboard and tapped the paper. “Any files not mentioned here specifically are to be hauled forward, to be picked up for disposal in the incinerator. That is also on this level, adjacent to the interrogation rooms.”

  “So we will pretend to be naughty soldiers and keep our faces in the files,” Marmie said, nodding and holding out her hand for the clipboard.

  “Yes. There is only one surveillance camera in each cell, but many of them are covered with files or dust, and besides, the screens for these rooms are turned off most of the time. No audio surveillance that I know of. I will lock you in and come for you or send someone to fetch you as soon as possible.”

  Opening one of the cells, he pulled down two boxes. Inside each was a guard uniform, a bottle of water, and a packet of nutrient bars. He gave Marmion a key. “Please, if something goes wrong and you are recaptured, don’t be caught with this on you. I have no idea how long I’ll be gone, and if I am much delayed, you will eventually want to try to escape on your own. I don’t advise it. This place is a maze, and in many ways the most brutal and dangerous part of the prison.”

  “How long do you estimate?” Marmion asked.

  He pointed to the dusty concrete wall where a large clock that was marked in twenty-four-hour Standard time hung. The face was almost obscured by dust and cobwebs, but the second hand was moving. “At least twenty-four hours.”

  He started to turn to leave, but Marmion stood on tiptoe and kissed him on each cheek. “This is very good of you, Christian. Be careful of yourself. They are bound to miss us soon, and you will be questioned.”

  “I plan to be unavailable for questioning,” he told her.

  “Good luck with that,” Adrienne said dryly. “You’ve put yourself in a lot of danger for us.”

  He smiled. “Perhaps, but there are many among us who have cause to do a favor for Madame Marmion. I know of one man, at least, who can take you away from here, though, alas, not in a spaceship.”

  “No sense compromising more people than necessary,” Adrienne said. “We have only to alert some of Madame’s powerful allies and they will put an end to this nonsense. They’ll open the cells and release our people and put those who arrested us inside instead.”

  Christian had been heading for the door, but then stopped and looked back at them, a worried frown on his face. “The officials here are good at covering their tracks. People who talk about what happens at Gwinnet have a way of disappearing. They’re fine with scaring the prisoners by letting them know what goes on here, and they don’t mind some reports of the brutality leaking to the outside, just as long as it frightens people powerless to stop them. The officials and politicos claim a hard reputation is a deterrent to crime, but some of what happens—” He shook his head and looked down. “—is so inhuman it could be classified as war crime.” His eyes were tormented as he looked back up at them. “They have terrible things planned for you, Madame, and for your crew as well. Revenge for the inconvenience you have caused them, but also to make an example of you to other powerful people who would get in their way. They have stayed their hands so far only because they are still rounding up those who are loyal to you, and because they do not wish your friends to find out about your arrest in the meantime and upon investigation find you damaged before they have full control of the situation.”

  “We’ll see who is damaged,” Adrienne muttered, but at this stage she knew it was a vain threat, coupled with wistful thinking.

  “Have they—damaged—any of my crew thus far?” Marmie asked. “They have kept me in solitary, and other than poor food and sanitation and a bit of jeering, today is the first time I have felt actually threatened.”

  “They’ve roughed up a few of the men, claiming they resisted arrest. I can’t stay any longer, ladies. I have to try to make arrangements before I’m expected for my next shift.”

  “Wait,” Adrienne said. “If someone else comes instead of you, how will we know it’s safe to go with them? Shouldn’t we have a password?”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “Have them say they’ve come with orders from General Bonaparte regarding the retreat,” Marmie suggested with a smile. “And Christian?”
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br />   “Madame?”

  “Merci beaucoup.”

  RO! MUREL SENT her thoughts and her sonar after her brother as far and as loudly as she could for as long as she could, but although he answered at first, and her sonar found his shape in the water, she could no longer hear him, no longer find him. She swam out beyond Kai’s reach but then had to dive and swim in the opposite direction from that of the boat that had captured Ronan. Fortunately, neither that boat nor the other vessel they had spotted near the squid trough seemed to be equipped with complex tracking devices. And why should they? Other than the squid, there were no large animals in this ocean, and there didn’t seem to be a lot of marine traffic either. Her own sonar was apparently more sophisticated than what the boats used.

  She was much farther from shore than she wanted to be by the time her sonar no longer detected the boat—or her brother.

  She thought he might be unconscious now, since he didn’t answer, but she kept trying. But when she finally did hear another thought-voice, it wasn’t Ronan’s.

  Murel river seal? It’s me, your friend, Sky. Why are you calling Ronan river seal? Is he not with you? Is he hiding? Are you playing a game? Can I play too?

  Sky? We thought—we didn’t know what happened to you. Are you okay?

  I am good. The cat is also good, now that she is not drowned. She said she was good at swimming, but she is not an otter so she rides in the boat with the men. But she likes hiding and seeking. I do not know if she knows how to count hundreds, but she is very clever. Not as clever as an otter, but very clever for a cat.

  What boat? What men? Do you mean the ship’s cat, Zuzu, from the Piaf?

  Yes! Sky said. Where is Ronan river seal hiding?

  He’s not hiding, Sky. He’s been taken, netted.

  We were netted, Murel, Sky said. It was not bad. They scooped us into a big net and put us down on the boat and then the man with the eel fingers touched the cat’s chest over and over and almost ate her, but not really, it was more like grooming. Very strange. But then she got up and washed. That is the reason she is not swimming now.

  Sky drew nearer while telling her this, and she swam closer to him. Her sonar “saw” his image at last.

  Over here, Sky, but dive and I’ll meet you underwater.

  But if I dive, the men will not know where to bring the boat and Zuzu to find me.

  That’s the general idea, Murel told him, too weary to keep the impatience from her thoughts.

  But they are good men. Their boat smells bad but they are good. They fixed the cat.

  Just because people are nice to cats and otters doesn’t mean they’ll be nice to river seals, Sky. I have to keep hidden from these men.

  Hah! We are playing hide and seek again! the otter replied. The cat and I played hide and seek too, with the cat’s human female, Adrienne, and the nice human female from the ship, Marmie. The bad men had them, but the cat and I hid and sent them a scent warning and they left. Then a good man came for the females.

  Were Marmie and Adrienne okay? Are you saying they escaped?

  Mostly escaped. But maybe only hiding from the bad men.

  All of Murel’s impatience with the otter and some of her tiredness vanished. That’s good news, Sky. You did good. You and the cat showed a lot of ingenuity and courage to help them.

  No, Sky said. We didn’t show them anything. But we loosed a strong scent message on them and they smelled that and ran away! Scent messages are like swimming. Cats do it, but not as good as otters.

  Sky?

  Murel heard an anxious and somewhat nasal thought-tone calling her friend.

  Mon ami, you are lost. Where are you?

  I am playing hide and seek. Murel river seal and I are hiding from the boat.

  But why? Mon capitaine demonstrates great anxiety on your behalf. Everywhere he searches for you.

  That is the point of hide and seek, cat, Sky pointed out.

  Zuzu, those men are trying to capture or kill my brother and me, Murel told the cat.

  Nonsense! Zuzu said. They are purrfectly pleasant men, if a bit smelly. They are very kind. They feed the local sea creatures with refuse from the prison.

  Is that the boat that picked you up? The one that dumps the bodies of the dead prisoners into the squid canyon?

  Ah! So that is the smell. The dead prisoners you refer to—no one we know, I trust?

  Not so far.

  What is a squid canyon? Sky and Zuzu asked together.

  It’s a deep abyss in the sea where squid live.

  And squid are what? Zuzu asked.

  Remember the sharks?

  How could I forget? Sky asked with a quiver of his whiskers.

  They’re like sharks, only with lots of arms.

  Hmph. More than four seems excessive, Zuzu said.

  Murel told them about the squid attack and got so involved in the story she didn’t realize she was surfacing for air as she communicated. The surfacing, unless there was some reason to do it sooner or later, was almost reflexive.

  As she surfaced, she felt a paw on her hind flipper and looked back to see Sky.

  Tag! he said.

  She took in her air, and as she did, saw the boat. It was almost upon them, and Zuzu was sitting like a figurehead on the bow. As Murel dipped back beneath the surface, the ship lowered its net. She tried to swim away but felt confused—she didn’t want to be alone again, to leave Sky and Zuzu, and that, coupled with her exhaustion, caused her to dither in trying to decide which direction to swim. By the time she decided to dive below the net, it was touching her nose. She twirled around and around in it, trying to get out, but Sky held her with his paws saying, Be still, Murel river seal. These men save cats and otters and feed squids. I think they will save a river seal too.

  As they were hauled into the air, Murel recalled that the men had let them go before. So why had they netted her a second time? Did they know what she was now? Were they trying to catch Sky again?

  A long heavy metal hook came straight at her through the net. She flinched, but it only threaded itself over two sections of the rope that made the net and pulled the entire thing toward the boat’s deck, where it was lowered, then opened, dumping her and Sky hard onto the wooden planks that smelled of death. At least the boat was not presently hauling its customary cargo.

  Zuzu, we are here! Sky announced, jumping up, ready to scamper off.

  So I observed, Zuzu said with a yawn. Did you perhaps bring fish with you? I am once more famished.

  Murel hoisted herself onto her front flippers and started to shake herself dry, then thought better of it. Perhaps she could jump overboard again before the sun dried her, and the men would never know of her dual nature.

  But the sun was hot and there was no place to hide. Sky, who had watched her transformation countless times, ran around her, trying to obscure the process with a blur of otterly speed. Zuzu was not so helpful. To Murel’s chagrin, the cat stalked the transforming bits.

  Qu’est-ce que c’est? the cat exclaimed. Where did the fur go? Alors! Un nez! And fingers!

  Zuzu, please stop making such a big deal out of it, Murel begged. I’d like to finish my change and dive back overboard before the men notice.

  But this is so interesting! How do you do this thing? Zuzu asked, sniffing at Murel’s shins, where the flippers were just narrowing and pinkening into feet.

  I do it all the time. So does my brother and my dad. We’re selkies. I thought you knew.

  Non, the cat said, sitting back and washing a paw. Me, I mind my own business. What is it to me who turns into seals and who does not? Or who turns into humans or does not, for that matter? To me it has been much better to be always the cat.

  The clomp of heavy, smelly boots and a shadow fell across Murel and her friends. The captain hunkered down beside them. He reached out a hand to touch her and she flinched. “So you’re the dangerous alien escaped prisoner with seagoing superpowers we were all supposed to watch out for. How about that?”
>
  Murel didn’t know how to respond. She wanted to say she wasn’t dangerous, but then thought it might be better if he thought she was. Finally she said, “I’m just a kid. My guardian was sent to prison and they rounded all of us up. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “You were one of the seals we caught earlier, weren’t you?”

  “Yes, and you let us go then. Let me go now. My brother needs my help.”

  “He was the other seal?”

  Again Murel didn’t know if she should admit that or not. While she was hesitating, the captain turned around and bellowed to his mate, “Lloyd, dig my civvies out of my sea chest so our catch of the day doesn’t get herself a nasty sunburn.”

  When Murel put it on, his T-shirt, in shades of blue intended to blend with the sea and camouflage him, came past her knees and elbows. Sitting with her knees to her chest, she pulled it down to cover all the rest of her too. The captain slapped a visored uniform cap on her head.

  “Your nose was getting a little red,” he said. “Now then, you want to tell old Cap’n Terry all about it, or shall I just call into the base now and let them tell me what to do with you? Or maybe I should wait and see what the otter and the cat turn into?”

  The reassuring thing about him was that although he was smiling, he didn’t look or sound overly nice, the way adults did when they were trying to cajole a kid into doing something, all soft smiles and gentle eyes and even baby talk till they were ready to pounce. He looked at her like he expected an answer, needed an answer, or he’d do exactly what he said and report her. Whereas if she answered? “You already know my secret,” she said. “But I don’t know anything about you. What’s the point in telling you how we got here or where we’re from if you’re just going to turn us in? I’d be wasting my breath.”

  “I’m curious,” he said. “And the last time I boned up on interplanetary law, there wasn’t one against little girls turning into seals or vice versa.”

  “Yeah, but you work for the company. You throw the dead bodies to those squids. Anyway, I hope all the bodies are dead.”