Page 8

Chapter eight

Deep Waters

T he Frost Pearl rose through Muha's storm-laden atmosphere like a needle threading through dark silk. Petre watched it disappear into the clouds, feeling the tension he’d been carrying since the bout drain from his shoulders. Bylelle had ordered Varian to punish him, to embarrass him in front of Rowen and the clan. There was no other reason that the warrior would have acted so dishonorably. Even Varian had his own twisted sense of duty. He would never have gone that far without Bylelle’s prodding.

Far below them, Muha's endless ocean stretched to the horizon, its surface whipped into white-capped fury by the perpetual storms that powered the planet's extensive hydro-power network. The floating landing pad where they stood was one of dozens connected by arched bridges that looked too delicate to survive the maritime assault, steady even as waves crashed against their supports.

Spacecraft of every shape and form, from a dozen different species, dotted the platforms and for a single mad moment, he wanted to just grab one and escape. Away from Frei, Bylelle, and all the bullshit politics. He let himself entertain it for a second, before he let reality crash down on him again. He would never abandon his brother and father to the Maman’s tender mercies, but Goddess, he wanted to. And Rowen…he wouldn’t abandon her here, away from home and her people. That’s not the only reason , a dark voice whispered, and he forcefully shut his mental door on it.

“Amazing, isn't it?” Rowen glowed with excitement. Something had changed with them, these past few days. He couldn’t put his finger on quite what, but it was getting harder and harder to keep the distance between them that kept everyone safe.

“Remarkable,” he agreed.

She walked over to the edge of the platform and peered over into the salty spray laughing as the wind tugged at her headscarf. He might have to go back into the pit at Dalat in a few days, but for now, he could be here, surrounded by fascinating alien engineering and Rowen's infectious wonder.

MakenRoy walked over to them. “There is a lodging house on the far platform. I have booked us all rooms there. Call me when you come back up and are ready to do a deal.”

“You aren’t coming down with us?”

He shook his head. “No, I told you, my people aren’t built for it. Our body mass is too heavy.” He shuddered. “I can’t think of anything worse than being underwater.”

“How will we negotiate?”

“There’s a conference room at the lodging house. That’s what it’s there for. Trust me, we’re offering Zyilan. They’ll come to the surface to negotiate.”

“Fair enough.”

Petre looked at Broken. “What about you?”

He grimaced. “I’m with MakenRoy. I’d like to be submerged in water about as much as I’d like to sleep in an airlock. I’ll see you when you get back up top.”

They said their goodbyes, and Rowen and Petre piled into the transparent elevator that protruded from the center of the platform. As it began its descent, the true scale of Muha's underwater metropolis revealed itself. Domes bloomed from the ocean floor like massive submerged pearls, connected by transparent tubes that pulsed with pink and white guidance lights. Schools of brightly colored fish scattered as they passed, their scales catching the light from the elevator as it descended into the depths.

“Welcome to Muha.” The voice emerged from a speaker above them. “Please don the breathing apparatus and shields provided in the compartment next to you.”

Rowen opened the compartment and rummaged around until she came out with a complex looking transparent headdress, comprised of a small disk with a dozen almost invisible filaments dangling from it.

“Please place the disc on top of your head, and allow the oxygen fibers to fall naturally.”

Petre complied, and as he did, he felt the fibers tighten until they formed a net over his face and skull. At first, he panicked, thinking it was some kind of trap, until they stopped tightening when they had formed a tight mesh.

He checked on Rowen to see that she had done the same. The net was almost invisible, only the slightest hint of sheen where the fibers touched her skin.

“Excellent. Now tap the center of the disc to activate the apparatus.”

He did, and he felt his ears pop. He held up his hand and saw a faint glow surrounding it. He looked at Rowen and realized that the pretty blue glow was a superfine shield covering her entire body, a hairsbreadth from her skin.

She reached out to touch him and their shields kept them a fingertip apart. “This is awesome!” she mouthed.

“We will now activate the pumps. Please do not be alarmed. The tank will fill with water, but your shields will protect you, and the oxygen filaments will ensure that you have breathable air. Just breathe normally. Please hook your feet under the lower railing.”

He looked down and saw the metal bar on the floor and complied. Rowen reached out and tightly gripped his hand, and for once, he didn’t flinch or worry about what she might sense with the shield protecting him. They held onto each other as the water roared over them; the pressure tugging at them, although not as much as it should have, the shields providing an effective counterbalance. In less than a minute, they were submerged.

He felt Rowen tug at his hand, and he saw her mouth moving. “I can’t hear you!” he mimed.

She gripped his hand tighter. He watched her eyes flicker, and then her image was superimposed on his vision. He accepted the call on his HUD, and her voice rang out, “This is the coolest, craziest shit I’ve ever done!”

She unhooked herself from the lower railing and floated up, doing an elegant backflip in the water.

There was another static sound, and a subtle shift in pressure that made Petre's ears pop again, and a movement in the water.

An unfamiliar voice spoke, and he slowly maneuvered himself around to see the visitor. “I am Thum, your liaison. I have connected your communication devices to our network.”

The Muha's were a giant cephalopod species. Thum’s central mass was a delicate pink and the same size as Rowen, its eyes a shimmering black. Its tentacles rippled with patterns of green and gold in greeting as it gently floated in the water. It was eerily beautiful.

“Your arrival is well-timed,” Thum continued, tentacles contracting to move closer to them. “The spring tides bring optimal viewing conditions for our deeper construction sites.”

“We're honored by your hospitality,” Rowen replied.

The elevator merged seamlessly with a large transit tube, the transition so smooth Petre might have missed it if not for another subtle change in pressure. Around them, Muha's citizens flowed; some using personal propulsion devices, others simply floating through the water with natural ease. Most were Muha, but there was a spattering of other water-based species here and there. Thum instructed them to kick off from the anchor railing, and they were caught in the gentle, persistent current that ran through the tube.

“We will take a submersible and tour several of our construction and manufacturing facilities,” Thum explained as they moved deeper into the city, carried on the current.

“Thank you,” Petre replied.

“We're particularly interested in your pressure regulation systems,” Rowen said. “As you know, we are building a series of horticultural bio domes.”

Thum's skin flushed a dark red, and Petre wondered what it meant in Muha. “Ah, you've done your research! Yes, we have the best pressure systems in the galaxy.”

The submersible's interior was decidedly cramped. Petre found himself hyper-aware of every movement as Rowen settled into the observation seat beside him, her shoulder brushing his as she leaned around, trying to examine everything all at once. The confined space and the endless dark pressing against the viewport made his warrior instincts prickle uncomfortably. Maybe Broken and MakenRoy had the right idea, staying up in the sunshine where a male could see what was coming.

He forced his breathing to remain steady, grateful for Rowen's warm presence beside him. Something about her enthusiasm made the crushing depths feel less...crushing.

"The vessel's controls are adaptive," Thum explained, tentacles flowing over the panels with practiced ease. A floating display appeared, with a rotating menu, each with a species name on it. "Select your species and the vessel will display a holographic translation matrix for the controls that you may interact with."

"Fascinating!" Rowen inspected the controls.

Petre caught himself watching her profile instead of the technical demonstration, letting her obvious delight distract him from the claustrophobic press of water all around them. In all his years, he had met no one like Rowen. She was so open with her emotions, her joy, her insatiable curiosity. There was no pretext with her, no artifice or political games.

She was more completely herself than anyone he'd ever met.

She looked up and caught him watching her, and grinned. "This is unbelievable!"

At least she’s having a good time.

"The deeper construction zones present unique challenges," Thum continued as they descended. Petre's hands tightened imperceptibly on the armrests as the darkness deepened. "Pressure differentials require creative solutions."

The water outside grew darker as they moved away from the main city, but it wasn't true black. Strings of light that reminded Petre of the nova moths back home marked their path, though these pulsed with complex patterns that seemed almost like language. He focused on the lights, on Rowen's quiet sounds of wonder, using them to ground himself against the irrational waves of anxiety. A warrior wasn't supposed to fear the dark. Or the depth. Or the crushing weight of an ocean ready to rush in at the slightest crack...

"They're beautiful," Rowen murmured as a school of fish that looked like liquid starlight streamed past their viewport.

"The kril fish," Thum's said. "They scavenge from our construction teams, warning of the larger predators before our instruments can detect them. A symbiotic relationship, you might say."

"Do you get many? Larger predators?" The question made Petre's stomach clench, though Rowen's voice held only curiosity.

Thum flexed his tentacles in a complex dance that Petre could not interpret. "Some, particularly in the outer sites. We share the ocean with them, after all." Dark green striations rolled across his skin. "In eons past, we hunted the larger creatures, but we are more focused on conservation now. Most of them are just curious. The sonic fences keep away the true predators."

Petre looked out into the night dark, trying to imagine Thum hunting down some great beast in the water, and the best he could come up with was an improbable picture of groups of pretty, jewel-colored, squid-like creatures with tiny spears, facing off with a behemoth. He couldn't quite wrap his mind around it.

The submersible banked smoothly around a massive support structure that loomed out of the dark, revealing a dome under construction. The scale of it was gargantuan, curved panels of some hybrid material that seemed to grow rather than being assembled, the Muha construction crew crawling all over it.

"The membrane is semi-organic," Thum explained, "allowing it to adapt to changing conditions much like your own skin responds to temperature variations."

Rowen shifted forward for a better view, and Petre had to catch her arm to steady her as the submersible compensated for the movement. The contact sent awareness sparking through him, even through layers of shielding. He wrapped his arm around her waist to steady her and held onto the roof railing, secretly grateful for the excuse to hold on to something solid.

"Sorry," she whispered, though she didn't pull away. "Got excited."

"I hadn't noticed," he replied dryly, earning a quick grin. "Tell me again why you wanted to do this?"

"Because it's fun," she replied, peering out the viewport. "It's an adventure. Try to unclench enough to enjoy it."

His jaw dropped in affront when she poked him in the ribs. "You're missing the view!"

A sudden surge rocked the submersible, sending Rowen sprawling against him before the stabilizers could compensate. His arms came around her automatically, instincts responding before his brain could catch up. For a moment, pure panic flared—were they under attack? Had the hull breached?

"Pressure variance," Thum announced calmly, tentacles flowing over the controls. "Quite common at these depths."

Petre realized he was holding onto Rowen and set her gently back in her own seat.

He returned his attention to the construction site, steadfastly ignoring both her warmth beside him and the way his hands curved, wishing he could actually feel her, just for a moment. It was a mad thought. Without the shielding, he would never have allowed himself to be this close to her, for fear that she would sense what was really going on with him.

He made himself push all thoughts of Rowen out of his head, as they completed tours of two more construction sites, and inspected several designs before he was satisfied that the pressure regulators would meet Casti's specifications.

They returned to the lodging house on the surface to meet MakenRoy, to complete the negotiations. Petre had never been so grateful to see sunlight.

Out of the water, Thum was less graceful. He used his tentacles to drag his bulk across the floor and into a large open bowl next to the conference table that appeared to pass for a chair for the Muha on land.

The actual negotiations were quick. They agreed on the specifications they had sent on in advance, with a couple of tweaks suggested by Thum. They haggled a little over price, but not much. The Muha were fair and delighted to be paid in Zyilan. MakenRoy entered his approval code and arranged for the Zyilan to be transported on the next armed Malurien battle cruiser leaving Dalat. It was almost anti-climactic.

But the early completion presented an unexpected opportunity.

Bylelle and the Frost Pearl were not due back for several days, completing an “errand” elsewhere. Petre didn’t know what the errand was, and he suspected he would be happier not knowing.

Most days, he assumed the Goddess had abandoned him but every now and then, she threw him a lifeline. There would never be a more perfect time to get the chance to meet the rebels on IntGal1.

When Thum invited them back down to the city for a further visit, Rowen was reluctant to leave MakenRoy and Broken for so long, and he saw his chance.

“We could head to IntGalOne early,” he suggested. “The Mining Association's facilities are ready for inspection. We could meet the Frost Pearl there.”

MakenRoy was decidedly unimpressed by the suggestion. “It’s not a good idea to change the itinerary without approval. The Frost Pearl is our designated transport,” he said flatly, eyeing Petre with suspicion.

“But not our only option,” Petre insisted. “IntGalOne is a major trading hub. There must be commercial vessels heading that way.”

He felt Rowen studying him and refused to meet her gaze. She was too perceptive by half. The last thing he needed was her picking up on the real reason he wanted to reach IntGal1 early.

“Actually,” Thum offered, “the Star Whisper departs tomorrow. Luxury commercial cruiser, very respectable.” A pause. “Though perhaps not quite up to Maman standards.”

“Wonderful.” The word escaped before he could modulate his tone, earning another suspicious look from Broken. Goddess wept, he was off his game today. “We can arrange passage—”

“Hold on,” Rowen cut in, and he caught the slight furrow between her brows that always appeared when she was trying to puzzle something out. “Why are you so eager to abandon our escort? The Frost Pearl is perfectly capable of—”

“The sooner we complete these inspections, the better,” he said smoothly. “Besides, it seems wasteful to keep a diplomatic vessel waiting when commercial transport is readily available.”

It was a reasonable argument. Logical. Practical. Complete shit, of course, but reasonable.

Broken’s expression suggested he wasn't fooled either. “The Maman will not be pleased.”

Now that was an understatement. Bylelle would be furious. But then, the bitch was blackmailing him, so he didn’t particularly care. If he could get to IntGal1 early, he might be able to slip away and meet with the resistance contact, without having to avoid her constant scrutiny. It was absolutely worth the risk.

“K’Dec Maral,” he replied, “has assigned us to complete these inspections efficiently. Which is exactly what we're doing.”

He felt the weight of MakenRoy's assessment and bit his tongue to stop himself saying any more. The Malurien was far more politically astute than his warrior facade suggested. But he also knew MakenRoy had no love for the Maman's games. “Don’t you want to get this finished and head back to your family?” Petre asked.

MakenRoy studied him, then smiled, showing red-tipped teeth. “Very well. I can understand why you might be reluctant to get back on the Pearl . Though I suspect you'll owe me when Bylelle discovers this… adjustment to her plans.”

“I'll handle any diplomatic fallout,” Petre assured him, and MakenRoy huffed.

“It’s alright. I’ll take this one.” He gave him a toothy smile. “She wouldn’t dare to punish me.” Petre felt a hot spike of embarrassment for the males of his people. How pathetic they must look, if an alien felt like he had to protect him from the wrath of one of their own. But he couldn’t bring himself to reject MakenRoy’s offer. “Diplomatic fallout” was the least of what he'd be handling when Bylelle caught up with them.

As they made arrangements for tomorrow's departure, he noticed Rowen watching him oddly. When she caught his eye and raised her eyebrows, silently asking for an explanation, he gave her his best neutral smile.

“Very well then,” said Thum. “I’ll organize transport for you. Thank you for selecting the Muha Confederation for your purchasing needs. We hope to conduct another transaction soon.”