Page 6 of Tiger's Voyage

Unperturbed, Mr. Kadam continued, “Now for the large marine animals you were speaking of, researchers use satellite tags that transmit anything from the current location in longitude and latitude, to the depth of the animal, the duration of the dive, and the swimming speed. That type of tag is external and is attached to a battery that eventually is used up in the transmission of information. Most of them last only a short time but some of the more expensive ones can last for a few months.”

He pressed a cotton ball to Kishan’s hand, removed the needle, and covered it with a Band-Aid. “Ren?”

Kishan and Ren switched places, and Mr. Kadam began the process over with Ren.

“There are a few internal tags put into marine animals that can record the heart rate, the temperature of the water, the body temperature, and the depth of the animal. Many of them transmit information to satellites when the animal surfaces.”

He selected a new syringe, drew a bit of saline solution, replaced it with the larger one, and placed another chip into the needle’s groove. When he pinched the skin and moved closer, I grimaced. Ren looked up and made eye contact with me. He smiled and said, “Easy as peach pie.”

Peach pie. The color drained from my face.

He tried to reassure me, “No, really. It’s not that bad.”

I smiled weakly. “I’m not sure your tolerance for pain and mine are the same, but I’ll survive. You were saying, Mr. Kadam?”

“Yes. So the problem with the RFID chips and the satellite tags is power. What we have here is technically not on the market and will likely never be, due to the general public’s fear of identity theft and having government agencies monitor them.

“Almost every technological development can be used for either the benefit or detriment of mankind. I understand the fear associated with such a device but there are many valid reasons for exploring technologies such as this one. Luckily, I have military contacts, and they often walk where others fear to tread. Our tags can do all of those things and much, much more, transmitting data constantly even well above and below sea level.”

He finished with Ren and looked at me. Hesitantly, I pushed back my chair and switched places with Ren. When I sat down, Mr. Kadam patted my hand briefly. I found myself staring fixedly at the needle as he switched needles again. He chose the hand not marked by Phet’s henna tattooing and repeated the wipe-ointment process.

“I’m giving you a topical medicine that will numb the area slightly, but the injection will still hurt.”

“Okay.”

He placed a chip into the tip of the large needle. When he pinched my skin, I shut my eyes and drew in a tight breath through clenched teeth as he found the right spot.

Kishan’s warm hand took mine, and he said tenderly, “Squeeze as hard as you need to, Kells.”

Mr. Kadam slowly inserted the needle. It hurt. It felt like he was shoving one of my grandma’s giant knitting needles through my hand. I squeezed Kishan’s hand and started breathing fast. Seconds ticked by that felt like minutes. I heard Mr. Kadam say he had to go a little deeper.

I couldn’t bite back the whimper of pain and wiggled in my chair as he twisted the needle and pushed it farther. My ears started ringing, and everyone’s voices became thick. I was going to faint. I never thought of myself as wimpy, but needles, I realized, make me sick. About to keel over, I cracked my eyes open to look at Ren.

He was watching me with concern. When our eyes met, he smiled my favorite lopsided grin, the sweet expression he used only with me, and for just a moment the pain disappeared. For that brief instant, I allowed myself to believe he was still mine, and that he loved me. Everyone else in the room vanished to leave only us.

I wished that I could touch his cheek and brush back his silky black hair or trace the arch of his eyebrow. I stared into his handsome face and let those feelings overwhelm me, and in that fleeting time, I felt the ghost of our emotional connection.

It was just a mere whisper, like a scent on the breeze that blows past too quickly, bringing with it a memory of something you can’t quite grasp. I wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light, a flicker of something real, or something I fabricated, but it captured all of my attention. My entire being was focused on Ren, to the point that when Mr. Kadam pulled out the needle and replaced it with a cotton ball, I realized that I’d dropped Kishan’s hand completely.

Voices rushed back into my consciousness. I nodded in answer to Kishan’s question and looked from my hand to Ren again, but he’d left the room. Mr. Kadam asked Kishan to assist him in placing his own device. He began explaining the difference between our technology and the others he’d described.

I only half-listened, but I did hear him say that we could access one another’s tags with new cell phones, which he then distributed. He explained how the power source worked. I sat nodding slightly but snapped out of my trance when Kishan stood up several minutes later. Mr. Kadam offered me some aspirin and water. I swallowed the pills and headed to my bedroom.

Restless and uncomfortable, I lay on top of my covers unsuccessfully trying to fall asleep. My hand was sore and sleeping with it tucked under my cheek was out of the question.

I heard a soft knock on the door. “Come in.”

“I heard you wiggling around and guessed that you were still awake,” said Ren, closing the door softly behind him. “I hope I’m not bothering you.”

I sat up and clicked on the bedside lamp. “No. It’s fine. What’s the matter? Do you want to go out onto the veranda?”

“No. Kishan seems to have taken up permanent residence out there.”

“Oh.” I looked through the window and saw a black tail hanging over the edge of the loveseat twitching lazily back and forth.

“I’ll talk to him about that. He doesn’t need to babysit me. I’m perfectly safe here.”

Ren shrugged. “He likes to watch over you.”