Greentree's message was on Sylvia's answering machine when she got back to the office. He would meet her at the Hooch at six. Be sure to bring Janet and Lucas. Everything would be safely dealt with at that time without any of the guests noticing. Until then, do not worry.

Sylvia called her children's huts but only Janet answered. The young tigress said Lucas was napping but she would tell him in time for dinner. Sylvia decided to follow Geoffrey's advice to relax, left it at that, and tried to keep her shoulders below her ears. Sorting out the reservations and deposits for the coming weeks kept her so busy that the remaining afternoon seem to evaporate. Before she realized, the sound of the gong announcing dinner was echoing over the darkening inlet. Taking several deep breaths, she shut-down her accounts and strolled out of the office. By the time she reached the Hooch with its light strings and conversational murmur, Sylvia appeared to be in control of her world. Cool Willie gave her the high-sign as she mounted the veranda steps and pointed to a table on the far side. Partly sheltered by palm plants and next to the side entrance, it was favoured by those wishing to remain unseen. Getting closer, she could see the springbok talking with Janet. Strange, Sylvia smiled to herself, with his eye markings, it looks like my date is the one wearing mascara. When she reached the table, he stood, horns tangling in the foliage, but kept carefully in the shadows. Janet look up at her mother, wide-eyed. Sylvia paused, sensing something very wrong.

"Moma." Janet said softly, "You better brace yourself."

"Good evening." He smiled, "I'm glad you could make it." He stuck out his hand.

"You don't have to be so formal. Janet knows what we did this afternoon."

"I'm afraid not." He said, chuckling, "I'm not that lucky this trip out."

"He's right, you know." Said Asali, as she came up behind Sylvia. "About both seeing you, my dear, and your recent mating. I only hope it was enjoyable." For a second in the dim light, Sylvia saw the khaki-clad lioness was holding an ivory-handled automatic, its twin stuffed into the belt under her jacket. "Shall we all sit and have a quiet conversation?"

"Asali, what the fuck are you doing here? And what are you doing dragging my family into?"

"Habiri, Sil-Via." She grinned, her voice dancing, "You should learn to relax as Roger here suggested on your answering machine."

"Roger?"

"Roger Greentree." He said, pleasantly, "I'm Geoffrey's queer cousin."

"Whoa! Hold it!" Sylvia said, leaning back, "What is the hell is going on?"

"Just what Geoffrey told you." Asali replied, "I've been running a spy ring for several months now, which included Captain Bushrunner of the Firetail. Also had to flee the Nyumba Dola Home Guard last week when I had Roger steal the Icarus B encryption prototype. Since then, his cousin has been watching my team diving for it in the Fairport Straits."

"My fault." The springbok shrugged, "I dropped it in deep water when I dived out of the Firetail. The cloud turbulence was so great, I barely made it down myself."

"I sit with traitors." Sylvia said grimly, "Why my family?"

"Freedom's Run is a small island, making for a compact chessboard. All the guests are strangers so my operatives could be slipped in without anyone noticing. Every moving craft is being monitored from space as I speak. We know how you'll act and can plan for your responses."

"You cold, calculating bitch!" she spat, "What now? A bullet in the back of our heads? A quick flight to oblivion while you laugh at how stupid we were?"

"Nothing is farther from the truth, Sylvia." Asali said, her smile fading. Suddenly, her amber eyes seemed sadder than time itself. "This affair has been more painful than I ever thought possible. Worse, its not over yet. We are only entering the final, sorry act. As for your family, I would die before allowing them to be endangered. I'm sorry for using you but each person played their part perfectly. Including yourself, my dear." Carefully, the tall lioness reached out and plucked a tread from Sylvia's throat pelt.

"A souvenir from my cousin." Roger Greentree said.

"Its just a hair." Janet said.

"Hardly." The springbok went on, "it's a spun-cesium crystal. Acts like a natural microphone, transmitting a signal up to a hundred paces. Geoffrey slipped it on you while you were fucking. Its crude but allowed him to hear everything that you and your children were talking about this afternoon. He's probably safely away by now, having radioed a submarine where and how to find our aquatic grand prize."

"Good. So long as it doesn't fall into your hands." Sylvia said.

"More to the point, where is Lucas?" Asali said, turning to Roger, "Iko wapi Lucas? He's supposed to be here."

"That's what I said on the answering machine."

"Sylvia?"

"I could only reach Janet." She said. Every eye turned to the tigress. Janet shrugged.

"He was still asleep so I left a note on his bedside table." The springbok's long muzzle went blank.

"Kinyesi!" Asali swore, her lips curling over her fangs. Pulling out both pistols, she leapt to her feet, knocking the chair backwards, and sprang off the balcony into the darkness.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

"Lucas. Wake up."

The young male stirred, opening his eyes and rising up onto his elbow. He squinted up at the shadow behind the flashlight.

"Sorry. After this afternoon's swimming, I need a few Zs." He yawned, "Why the flashlight? The power out."

"Come on, kid. Get up." He said. Lucas sat up. Behind the glare, he could see two sweeping horns.

"Mr. Greentree?"

"Move. I haven't got time for questions." The flashlight pulled back to reveal the metallic shine of a machine gun.

"Shit!" Lucas yelped.

"Move your tail or I'll put a couple through your shoulder to focus your attention." He grabbed Lucas by the arm, flinging him out the hut's door. The canid stumbled, regained his footing, only to be driven on by a kick to the spine.

"Where are we going?"

"The Sue DeNym. Keep moving." Greentree said, his voice like nails. Once under the WaterWings' lights, he tucked the machine gun into Lucas' ribs. "Try anything and I'll cut a couple guests in half." At a brisk walk, the pair thudded down to the water and out onto the docks. Several regulars who were tying up their boats said hello to Lucas, only to be greeted with stony silence. The pair marched to the end of pier 3 where the sleek cruiser lay moored.

"Cast off." Geoffrey ordered, "And don't think about diving in. You don't what to know what 500 rounds a minute can do." Lucas scrambled, undoing the lines then jumping aboard, the springbok following him. Pointing directions with the gun, they climbed to the flying bridge. As Geoffrey stepped on the bridge, he ordered Lucas to turn around. The young canid obeyed, stepping into the springbok's blinding right hook. The night exploded into pain and light streaks. In a comet of blood, he crashed backward into the console and slid to the deck, limp as a broken doll. Greentree picked the ignition lock and turned off the ship's security alarm. Starting the engines, he shifted them into slow ahead and steered for open water. As he pulled past WaterWings' dock, only two boats had radar and looked capable of catching the Sue DeNym.

"Time for our wakeup call." Geoffrey grinned, fitting the machine gun to his shoulder. The first roar of gunfire echoing around the inlet like thunder. Everyone froze in mid-step. Kunda and Kusuka sprayed a mouthful of beer across the Hooch's bar. In the harbour, the compact wheelhouse of one boat vanished into wood chips and metal shards. Flames began licking from the wreckage. The second boat was moored stern to the water. Geoffrey riddled its transom. With a deafening blast, its fuel tanks exploded, showering the dock and other boats with sheets of burning fuel. The beaches and ridges lit up as the fireball churned its way into the starry sky. Everyone stared blankly at the inferno, the heat flash washing over their pelts like a demon's breath. Rushing to the Hooch's railing, the Mebenga brothers watched their ship beyond the flames head seaward on a snow-white wake. They clawed and snarled their way though the stunned crowd to where Sylvia, Janet, and Roger Greentree stood.

"Where's Asali?" Kunda shouted.

"She hunts." The springbok said, pointing to the burning docks, "We beached beyond the boathouse." Kusuka clapped his hands. Greentree threw the revolver hidden in his jacket to the canid.

"Shields and spears." He cried, checking that the clip was full. Like mirror images, the brothers jumped off the railing and sprinted at full speed towards the fire-coloured resort.

"Come on." Greentree shouted to Sylvia, "Leave my cousin to the carnivores. We've got to save your docks before this whole place goes up." As if in reply, another boat burst into flames, sending jets of propane sizzling skyward.

"To hell with WaterWings." She said, "Janet, you wanted something to happen around here? You handle the fire fighting. I'm going after Lucas." Clambering over the rail, she dropped to the grass and headed in the same direction as everyone else.

As WaterWings' ruddy glow faded behind him, Geoffrey checked the positions logged into the ship's GPS system. Most resulted in a cluster of positions evenly scattered throughout the Strait. Only one had been inputted that afternoon. He activated it, the boat automatically plotting a course into the autopilot. He felt the deck shift slightly as the speeding craft headed west by southwest. Checking that the way was clear on the radar, he turned his attention to Lucas.

"Wake up, kid." He said. A swift belly kick got a groan and a flaying of limbs. Geoffrey grabbed him under one arm, hauling the dazed canid roughly to his feet. "You want to see mommy again? Get your arse below." Lucas stumbled down the ladder then below deck, almost falling, while Geoffrey followed carefully.

"Where's the suit the Mebengas were using?" he asked.

"In here." Lucas said, licking the blood from his muzzle.

"Put it on."

"What?" he said. Fear's cold clarity replaced dull pain.

"You're getting that board for me."

"Fuck you. I'm no diver. That board is 600 meters down." Geoffrey squeezed the trigger. In an rattle of gunfire, bullet holes stitched a line between his knees.

"The board or life in a wheelchair. Your choice." The springbok glared through the cordite fog. Lucas was hyperventilating.

"In here." He said, his legs finally moving. He focused on putting on the thermal suit, trying to remember Kusuka's actions as a way to keep the fear shakes from taking over. Methodically, he connected the glove and boot tubing, strapped on the controls, and shouldered on the backpack. "You'll have to do the connections and the helmet." Lucas said, staggering under the weight of the PFC suit. Geoffrey had little trouble as each snap-fitting was coloured coded and unique. The helmet seal clicked into place as the boat engines slowed then stopped.

"Its showtime." Geoffrey said over the hum of the maneuvering motors. With a gun barrel in his back, Lucas labouriously climbed the ladder to the broad rear deck. The springbok opened the transom door to the swimmer's platform awash off the stern. The sea glowed an eerie turquoise from the ship's underwater lights. "Relax, kid." He said, an ominous outline against the ship's lights, "One trip down and back. I get the board, you get to go home. Too simple." Lucas slowed his breathing, never taking his eyes off of the gun. He shuffled to the platform, checked that a rubber-coated baton was still attached to the suit's backpack, and stepped into the black sea.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The Mebenga brothers reached the boathouses moments before Sylvia did. All that remained of Roger's boat was a mark in the sand and the fading sound of a powerful motor. Kusuka shouted obscenities while the dour Kunda glared seaward.

"You!" Sylvia said, grabbing Kusuka's arm, "Come with me." They dashed up the slope to the long, low sheds. At the second one, rails rose out of the water and under the doors. Sylvia yanked at the doors, only to find them chained and shackled. Kusuka swept her side, whipped out the revolver and shot the lock into fragments. Foot against the doors, he ripped out the chain and swung them other open. Illuminated by the fire was the prow of a rough-water speedboat sitting on a trailer. Kusuka tore away the cover while Kunda leapt into the stern.

"The tank is empty." He shouted, "Get her into the water. I'll take care of this." Sylvia went to fit on the winch handle but Kusuka took it from her hands.

"No time." He explained, sweeping her up in his arms and hoisting her aboard. With one shot, he severed the trailer cable, sending them rolling down to the beach like a runaway ore car. Kunda grabbed the fuel tank and ran to the nearest boat with an outboard engine. Setting the funnel, he pulled a full fuelcan from the boat, stabbed a hunting knife into the bottom and poured the gushing fuel into the first tank. The owner ran up, shouting and gesturing angrily. Kunda stared through him, his skull like a death head in the flickering light. The owner took one look at the razor-honed knife and thought better of it. Kunda ran back, splashing into the water, and tossed the tank to Kusuka. Sylvia fired up the engine and banged it into forward gear.

"You know where to head?" Kunda ask, barely getting aboard.

"Watch me!" She shouted. The boat leveled off as the engine whined up to full power, becoming a streak over the dark water. Out of the night came the outline of the inner breakwater. The canids grabbed the gunwales as she expertly slammed the boat into the only grassy patch on the 400 meter gravel bar. The boat shot into the air, the prop singing, before crashing down in a bone-jarring splash. Sylvia jammed the throttle into full while Kusuka hunched in the stern, howling a hunting song to the wind.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The backpack's weight spun him backwards. Through his visor, the stars vanished with a watery swirl. The underwater lights glared then began to soften. They coloured from white to blue to cobalt, growing dimmer with each second. They outlined the Sue DeNym's length then became a diffuse blur that faded to black. Lucas kept dropping.

He glanced in panic to his arm controls but he could see nothing. An ominous crackling, louder than his breathing, began echoing from his helmet. Frantically, he began searching the backpack for the circulation switch. As the pressure grew on his ears, chest, visor, he grew more frenzied. Suddenly, his hand brushed a hinged cover. Flipping it up, he threw the switch inside. The backpack hummed to life. In the darkness, he felt a cold stinking oil squirting around his neck. Lucas bean screaming as the helmet filled, his shrieks becoming muffled as he slowly drowned. Kicking and thrashing, Lucas kept dropping.

Death did not come. Wide-eyed, mouth gasping bubbles, Lucas' blind panic paused as the last breath left his lungs. He was still alive. His lungs were those of the drowned, sucking only liquid, but his brain was still sharp. Warmth began slowly flowing over his body in contrast to the ever growing cold. On each arm, glowed a Milky Way of information. Histogram charts and abbreviations danced inside his visor against the blackness. Still, Lucas kept dropping.

He went limp, getting used to the feel of liquid breathing, to the fact that he was not dead. He could feel the crushing pressure and the bone-freezing chill but it was not squeezing the life out of him. Finally, he opened his eyes and checked his gauges. The suit said everything was operating perfectly. He was 465 meters down, descending at 3.5 meters per second. He remembered the sonar image when Kusuka went down and the enormity of those numbers hit him. He imagined the inverted cone of the caldera around and below him. Submerged peaks and pinnacles rising majestically as he plunged ever deeper. He imagined himself falling in slow motion from the nave of a great cathedral, past the coral-encrusted pillars and statues, floating gently through the grey stone floor to the crypts below. Time to start thinking of what happens next. As he punched at the keypad, Lucas kept dropping.
 
 

SUE
 
 

For a moment, nothing happened.
 
 

sue responding
 
 

Lucas would have shouted with joy if he could.
 
 

CAN U TRACK MY POSITION IN RELATION TO ICARUS TRANSPONDER
 
 

your position is being tracked and logged
 
 

GIVE BEARING OF TRANSPONDER TO MY POSITION
 
 

transponder is 327 degrees relative to your direction
 
 

Lucas checked his depth gauge. Less than fifty meters from the bottom. He switched on the lights. The sight of particles rapidly flowing upwards unleashed his fear but he stomped it back into its hole again. Quickly, the blackness below him went grey then sandy then solid. His feet landed in a cloud of sediment, the suit suddenly heavy again on his body. He took his bearings, arm outstretched, and turned until he faced the right direction. Like an astronaut in lunar gravity, he stepped forward, moving with a molasses pace. After a dozen strides, he saw Kusuka's footsteps wander into the lamp lights and stretch out before him. Grinning silently, Lucas marched on. Time seemed to slow. He glanced again at his compass and got a shock.

He had twenty minutes of oxygen left. Doing a quick calculation, it only gave him enough time to find the unit and return. Any delay was a slow, horrible death sentence. Lucas stared at the footprints, trying to confirm toe marks from the heel prints. The bottom was too soft to record a clear outline. He trudged on, hoping that he was heading in the right direction.

The prints ended. Lucas panicked until he saw a dark outline on grey marl. He paused, breathing in elation, then waddled forward. He picked up the case in a whirlpool of sediment. The killing cold and pressure was instantly felt, causing him to shiver. Dropping the transponder into a leg pocket, he clutched the case and felt for a baton. It popped into his hand and Lucas quickly snapped the lanyard into his chest harness. Leaning back, he yanked the inflation strap. The balloon expanded with frightening speed and noise. Soaring upwards, it jerked Lucas' harness, flinging his head and spine backwards. Clung ever tighter to the case, he shoot upwards to air, light, and life.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Geoffrey shouted as he watched the sonar blip suddenly rise off the caldera's floor. His glee was tempered by the high-pitched whine of an outboard engine. It wavered and peaked, as if crossing open sea at high speed. He swore, not expecting opposition to arrive so quickly. Dashing to the flying bridge, he turned on the powerful spotlight and twisted it towards the sound. An internal-frame inflatable was pounding over the swell. Every couple of waves, it bounced into the air, the prop clearing the water. In the light, Geoffrey could see the single brownish-gold occupant taking the beating of her life and coming on strong.

"Dumb lion bitch! Don't you ever give up?" he said, shouldering the machine gun. He only had a half second burst before the clip emptied. Swearing, he ducked as Asali open up with both automatics. Most shots went wild but enough splintered the wood and glass round him to make Geoffrey kiss the deck. With a stinging whine, the spotlight shattered off its mounts, plunging the sea into darkness again.

Slamming in another clip, Geoffrey stood up, firing down into the inflatable. It veered wildly, broadsiding the Sue DeNym and shooting skyward in a slow barrel roll. Geoffrey riddled bullets across its bottom. One found the tank. The explosion flung the springbok backward, the heat singing his tight pelt. The canvas boat ripped into flame, landing upside down on the water. In seconds, the sea off the port beam was a burning, undulating slick.

"Fuck!" he screamed, hoping that Lucas did not surface in that floating pyre. Sliding down the ladder, he pulled a boat hook from the transom equipment rack. Below his feet, he felt a faint vibration and the boat turning. It was aligning itself to where the kid would come up. Geoffrey grimaced at the flaming fuel. Asali was dead but the light would pinpoint his location for kilometers in every direction. Time was running out fast.

He ducked into the wheelhouse. The sonar showed Lucas' rising blip. He would be surfacing off the starboard beam in seconds. Geoffrey switched to the radar. The outlines of Venture's, Fairport, and Freedom's Run Island appeared in sharp contrast. In the overlay of GPS and ordnance grids was a single fast moving dot heading for him. He smirked. He would be gone by the time it struggled to his location.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Lucas saw the Sue DeNym's lights first. They had a pinkish glow, coloured by the PFC fluid that kept him alive and his eggshell chest from crumpling. As his depth gauge winked down to 000, the lights separated to outline the ship's hull. A strange glow seemed to be illuminating one side of the ship. There was no sign that the hull doors were open so he paddled his legs to come alongside the Sue DeNym.

The balloon surfaced with a jolt. The jerking continued as it bobbed on the surface with Lucas dangling below. Through the swirl, he could see the springbok standing on the swimmer' platform, gripping the transom in one hand while flaying the water with a boat hook. His mouth was moving but Lucas could not hear anything over the surf and the backpack's drone. Lucas struggled to reach the long pole and, on the fourth try, caught it with one hand. Carefully, Lucas was pulled over until he could grip the bottom rung of the boarding ladder.

It was a scene from Hell. Flames boiled on the water, lighting the rolling black smoke with a flickering crimson. The flying bridge's windshield was spiderwebed with bullet holes. Geoffrey, striding about in a rage, suddenly stopped and turned. Through the open transom door, Lucas could see Asali clawing her way over the starboard side. Blood streamed down her face from a cut over her left eye. Her lips were curled back in a snarl, fangs glistening in the ruddy light. Geoffrey lashed out with the boat hook, catching her in the head. Plasma droplets, black under the ship's lights, sprayed into the air. Asali swooned, almost falling back into the sea. A second blow caught her shoulder. The sting was more infuriating than painful. Roaring in anger, she splintered the gunwale with her claws, leaping onto the deck with primal savagery. Having fling off her uniform in the water, she crouched naked, every tendon and muscle flexing.

With a double-handed grip on the boat hook, Geoffrey laid into the tall lioness like a loan sharking thug. Asali was beyond feeling. Blows bounced off her until she grabbed the pole with powerful hands, snapping it like kindling. She tossed it overboard, preferring to use her terrible claws instead. Geoffrey snatched at a wicker deck chair and rushed her like a battering ram. Asali dug in her feet, taking the brunt of his charge with her chest. She tore at the wicker between them, shredding the chair into nothing in seconds.

Floundering in the wash, unable to hear, Lucas saw the change come over Geoffrey. Fear flared in him. He glimpsed the huntress in Asali's eyes and knew he was in death's presence. She was going to eat him alive. He threw the last of the chair into her face and dashed to the ladder below decks. She sprang after him but he pulled the hatch shut. She clutched the locking lever, snarling. Shoulders and back rippling, she bent it until something snapped inside. Tearing the hatch open, Asali hunched in a final spring.

Suddenly, she staggered backwards. A harpoon shaft appeared between her shoulder blades. With a bewildered look, she turned, clutching at the black spear that jutted from her chest. Crouching in the hatchway, Geoffrey fired again. It caught Asali in the belly, spinning her around. She saw Lucas clinging to the swimmer's platform. Time slowed as he stared into her eyes. Saw them come alive with desperation, knowing that she had failed. Her mouth opened, trying to say something to him but he could not hear. She reached out, trying to save him, only to crash into the gunwale, her legs betraying her. A third harpoon pinned her to the deck. She grasped the shaft obscenely sticking from her ribs, looking one last time at the young canid. When her head fell slack-jawed onto the deck, Lucas cried out silently in sorrow and anger.

Still holding the spear gun, Geoffrey strode to the stern and stepped onto the platform. He ripped the case from Lucas' gasp, coldly checking that it was intact.

"Better luck next life, kid." He shouted, jabbing a spear point into the balloon and slicing the rubber open. Lucas scrambled, desperately clinging to the platform. The weight of the suit was too much. Centimeters dwindled as the platform slowly tore itself out of his grasp. Jaws working in soundless yelps, his shaking fingers uncurled and the ship soared upward. In a stream of bubbles, Lucas plummeted back into the darkness. Far above, he heard the engines start up. Their reverberation slowly faded as the Sue DeNym surged towards the north. In seconds, only silence would remain.

Lucas looked at his air gauge. In five minutes, he would be on the bottom again, under 60 atmospheres of pressure. In seven minutes, he would be dying. Lucas trashed furiously, raging against every wasted moment, each thoughtless stupidity. The sudden vision of his mother's grieving filled him with fury. His death was not going to be a waste. He remembered the desperation in Asali's face and began jabbing at his keypad.
 
 

SUE
 
 

sue responding
 
 

STOP BOAT
KILL ENGINES
 
 

that command cannot be carried out. ship engines are being manually operated
 
 

INITIATE EMERGENCY DIAGNOSTIC OF ENGINES
 
 

understood. engines will have to be shut down during the duration
 
 

APPROVED
RUN DIAGNOSTIC PROGRAM 1000X.
 
 

understood. program initiated.
 
 

Far above, Lucas heard the Sue DeNym's propellers stop. He grinned, savouring his victory, as the silence, cold, and pressure built around him.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

"SHIT!" Geoffrey exploded, "Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!" He opened fire on the useless controls. As the machine gun rattled, the handcrafted console became flying wood chips and sparking electronics. When the gun was empty, he flung the useless chunk of metal and plastic at the wreckage.

He dashed on deck, still swearing as the Sue DeNym wallowed on the swell in slow, meandering circles. The burning slick was only a half kilometer behind. He could just make out the sound of a speedboat churning over the waves. When they reached the slick, they would suspect the worse. Like Asali, they would come up hard, fast, and shooting. If they were locals, not even the Truenorth military could save him.

He headed downstairs, working his way to the engine room. The machinery lay as useless as stage props. He poked and prodded every control but the monitors only ground on in an endless series of electronic checks. Only when he paused, heaving breathlessly, did he notice something. The computer listed three engines but was only running tests on two of them. Geoffrey turned away from the controls. Sue DeNym had two main engines. Where was the third? He checked and found it was listed as "off-line".

Then, it struck him where his salvation was. Laughing, he headed up on deck but not before a niggling detail was taken care of. Grabbing a wrench, he smashed the helmet of the only remaining PFC suit in five thousand kilometers.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

As Sylvia slowed, she could hear the brothers checking their armament. They had stripped down and would probably have been wearing body paint if it were possible. Kunda eased up beside her, ears pasted back, nose quivering.

"Pole pole." He hissed, "Petrol, not diesel or LNG. Our ship isn't here." They approached the burning water at quarter throttle. Wave action had stretched the fuel into a long burning wall. At one end, they found the smashed inflatable upside down and riddled with holes. Kusuka dove in, swimming powerfully under the glowing sea but returned empty handed.

"Nothing." He gasped, breathlessly, "No sign of her anywhere."

"So, where is Greentree's worthless tail?" Kunda asked the lights dotting the horizon. Sylvia chewed her lip then threw the boat into forward again. She headed north until they were again in total darkness. Killing the engine, she climbed onto the tiny foredeck.

"What are you looking for?" Kusuka asked.

"Quiet and listen." They stood unmoving, ears twitching for the faintest sound. Kunda pointed to a distant murmur from a multicoloured glowing dot. Sylvia shook her head.

"Booze-up at Venturesville." She said. Kusuka rapped the gunwale for attention and pointed to a low growling lights to the south.

"Squid trawlers." She said, frowning. She gazed around the compass, checking each off each light and sound from experience as navigation buoys, settlements, fishing boats, communication towers, and range lights.

"What a second." She said softly. To the northeast was a faint speck. To the northeast were the Sealsand Islands where civilization was forbidden to go. She leapt down, shoving the throttle into full ahead. Crashing over the waves, the speck grew into the lights of the Sue DeNym. Kunda fired several shots as they got close but nothing moved on board. Crouching, they came up quickly, killing the engine at the last instant and almost ripping out their cleats. Scrambling aboard, Kusuka broke into a bone-chilling howl. Sylvia gasped to see the Asali speared to the gunwales, her eyes staring blankly at the blood-flecked deck, pink lung-froth dripping from her jaws. Kunda pressed two fingers into her throat.

"She's alive. Barely."

"The controls are fucked," Kusuka said, coming our of the wheelhouse, "but the VHF is intact. Miss Slipsunder, call for help. We're going below." From a hidden storage pocket, he tossed his brother a machine gun and two clips taped end to end.

"If you find him, save a piece for me." She asked.

"We will." He grinned, "In our tribe, mothers feed first." Sylvia stepped into the shattered wheelhouse, switched on the VHF unit and punched in 156.8 MHz.

"Mayday, mayday, mayday. Fairport Coast Guard. This is Sue DeNym, Victor Alpha One Niner Niner Four calling mayday, mayday. Over."

"Sue DeNym. This is Fairport Coast Guard. Receiving you five by five. State your location and situation. Over."

"Charlie? This is Sylvia Slipsunder. My location is ten nautical miles from Shoulder's Cove on a bearing of one hundred seventy five degrees true. Ship is sea-worthy but have one person severely injured. Request immediate airlift. We are searching ship and... and may require additional help. Over."

"Understood, Sue DeNym, Victor Alpha One Niner Niner Four. Hang on, Sylvia, Fairport Coast Guard responding. Over."

"Thank you, Fairport. Am setting flares now. Over and out." Sylvia said. She noticing she was crying. How many times had she heard desperate voices calling over Channel 16? She always listened, a voyeur to another islander's private grief, hearing someone's world hang in the balance. Usually, she was too far away to help but always shivered, knowing evil was happening to someone at that moment. This time, it was her world that was coming apart. At the sound of pawfalls, she wiped her eyes and looked up as Kusuka stuck his head in.

"He's gone. Cranked out the davits and took off in our runabout."

"Lucas?"

"One of our deep diving suits is missing. The other is smashed." He said, pausing.

"Yes?"

"Kunda check the computer logs. The last communication with the first suit was five minutes ago at a depth of 130 meters and falling. We're sure it was Lucas."

"Then get him up!"

"We can't. Nothing we have goes that deep. He also only has a couple of minutes of air left." Sylvia fell on him screaming, beating him around the head.

"Do something! Do anything! I'm not leaving my son to die! Think of something, you fuckers."

"I'm sorry, Sylvia." He said, grabbing her wrists then embracing the sobbing female, "I'm sorry. Its up to our partner now."
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The oxygen in the PFC solution was getting thin. Lucas noticed his breathing getting shallow. His limbs and head were turning to lead. The winking symbols on his keypad and visor had become meaningless. He thought it was going to be like drowning. That made him smile. Technically, he had already drowned. This seem more like a bad drug reaction.

He landed on the bottom tail-end first. The backpack's bulk became a support, causing him to sit comfortably in the sediment, arms and legs floating outstretched. Long as the thermal unit kept operating, he felt pretty comfortable. Not that it was going to last much longer. Checking the readouts, Lucas slowly grasped that his air gauge was now blinking 0.0 kg/cc.

Could not think of Greentree anymore. Hate and revenge were beyond comprehension. They seemed so petty, as did large chunks of life. All that worrying about the latest fashions and gadgets. What was I thinking? Want to see the family again. Especially Janet and Rale. Never told how I loved them. Doesn't matter now, does it?

Feet bad about Moma. She'll grieve. Wish I could spare her that. Maybe come back as a ghost? Tell her that dying didn't hurt. That I'm alright where I was. Where I would be?

There would be a funeral. Grimaced at the thought. Too embarrassing. Everyone coming back to the Island because of me. They'll lay me out in some dorky outfit. Goddess, I hoped I don't have to sit through it. Watching all my family and friends carrying on and being brave. Was that one of the punishments of Hell?

Tradition required the oldest or the youngest child to light the pyre. Janet or Rale. Please, Goddess, let it be Janet. Not Rale. He's too young to know death.

Too young to know death.

Too young.

To know.

Death.

death

...

Lucas stared blankly into the blackness. His eyes had glazed over. His breathing had almost stopped when a hand wipe sediment from his visor.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Charlie Whitehart was a good as his word. In moments, the chop of helicopter blades could be heard over the Sue DeNym. Asali was secured on a stretcher, the harpoons intact, and rushed to Fairport Hospital. She was on the operating table for five hours before being placed in Intensive Care. Kusuka Mebenga refused to leave the waiting area. He slept curled on the floor, his hunting knife clutched to his breast. Hospital security was eager to throw him out but the head nurse, a massive tigress with muscular arms, forbade it.

"I've seen this in my home country." She said softly, "They owe a blood debt to her, probably from their pappy's time. It better for everyone that he be there." Sylvia stayed with him, not knowing where else to go. Returning without Lucas felt like defeat. Returning to WaterWings held too many memories. Instead, she stayed in town with her mother.

Janet visited her at daybreak, all sober business, having aged in a single night. With everyone helping, the fire had been quickly extinguished. Mr. Steelpelt, the insurance agent, happened to be at the Hooch that night and had started processing everyone's claims. A rough estimate placed WaterWings' damages at $260,000. Those who had lost their boats, and their livelihoods, had lost almost as much. So far, no guest had canceled and Islanders had been arriving all day to offer help. Sylvia heard Janet's words but remembered nothing.

Kunda returned that morning to Fairport Harbour in the Sue DeNym. Twelve hours of searching had found nothing. The suit's transponder failed to respond to any signal. Pinpoint and sidescan sonar reveled nothing bigger than a stone in the search area and for a kilometer beyond. The Coast Guard found the stolen runabout beached on the north end of Venture's Island. There was no sign of Geoffrey Greentree or the encryption unit. After a quick lunch, the Mebenga brothers headed back out again.

That evening, Asali regained consciousness and asked for Sylvia. She went in with mixed emotions, not sure whether to hate or thank the Major for what she had done. Sylvia reserved judgement when she saw the lioness in the hospital's dimly lit, whisper-filled ICU. Her forehead and torso were bandaged while numerous tubes ran in and out of her body. In the corner, a monitor silently displayed her heart beat and vital signs.

"How do I look?" Asali asked in a hoarse purr.

"Like shit." Sylvia said honestly, "How do you feel?"

"Can't even piss." She said, nodding to a half filled bag of pinkish-yellow fluid hanging from the footboard. "I saw Lucas. In a diving suit. Tried to pull him aboard. Never reached him. They find a body?"

Sylvia shook her head 'no'.

"Good." she said, giving a painful half-smile, "Not worry. He alive. Asali knows. May be on my back but still got surprises." Sylvia opened her mouth but Asali broke into a hacking, liquid cough that wracked her frame. When she finally fell back, her breath came in shallow, tubercular gasps. "Geoffrey?"

"Gone. Good riddance too." Sylvia spat.

"We agree on that, girl." Asali said weakly, "Don't be hard on yourself. His cover be blown. We be ours." Sylvia starting talking about the hurt she felt inside but noticed Asali's eyes had closed and her breathing had slowed. She mentally gathered herself up and returned to the waiting room, arms folded as if standing in a chilled wind.

"Miss Slipsunder!" Kunda said rushing up, his taciturn face beaming for the first time, "They found him! Lucas is alive! Not a scratch on him!" He took her arm, gently but firmly guiding her out of the hospital at a brisk walk.

"Where is he? Is he here?" Sylvia said, her world suddenly whole again.

"No, but he's safe." At the entrance, one of Fairport's tricycle-cabs stood idling. Kunda bundled her into it. The ghat-chewing driver immediately fired the engine and took off downhill to the harbour at a raucous, breakneck speed. Sylvia clung to the jostling awning, trying not to worry.

"Why isn't he here?" she asked over the engine noise.

"Huh?"

"Lucas. Why did they not pick him up?" she tried again. Kunda cupped his hands against her ear.

"Because only you can go there." The tricycle-cab putt-putted through the harbour buildings and out to the deep-water docks, stopping beside the Sue DeNym in the last berth. In daylight, the damage and scorch marks looked worse, a desecration of such a shapely ship. Kunda lead her below to the diving room where his brother waited. Grinning, Kusuka threw the switch opening the ship's hull like a conjuror's trick. Fairport harbour is regularly swept by the tides and remains clear. Through the rippling sunlight, she could see the flat rocky bottom. Suddenly, two blurred shapes shot up in a spray of water.

"Hell-ooo, Sil-Via!" Selena Sheerwater shouted gleefully in a voice capable of shattering glass. Beside her was a male silkie that was far darker hued than the local population.

"Selena. Have you found my son?"

"Lucas alive. Lucas safe. He swims with us."

"Where is he? On Sealsand?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" she chattered in a pitch high enough to make the canids' eyes water. That explained why he was not picked up. The Sealsand Islands conservation area was off-limits to everyone except by silkie invitation. Sylvia was one of the few landleggers allowed to visit. Eager as she was to go, something was nagging in her mind.

"Selena, where was he found?"

"Bottom of basin. Out of air, maybe. Dying, maybe. We take home."

"Selena, I cannot thank you enough for saving him."

"We not find." Selena bubbled, splashing her dark-pelted companion, "He find."

"There are three principles in our company." Kusuka explained calmly, "My brother and I are the only ones the public sees. This is our invisible partner, Sebastian, a Cape Spear silkie and long time friend of the family. For dangerous jobs, we sometimes bring him along." He roughly rubbed the male silkie's head who, in return, playfully tried to bite Kusuka's fingers. "While he's too playful to do real work, he's always nearby and watches out for us. Also, we're only visitors to the silkie realm. It helps to have an ambassador along when diving strange waters."

"Asali insisted we bring Sebastian, despite the distance." Kunda said, "Paid a small fortune to have an oxygenated-water hibernation tank built aboard for him. She knew that having your local silkies on our side would prove helpful. Thank the Goddess, she was right."

"When Sebastian found Lucas, the lad had just run out of oxygen. He disconnected the hot-suit couplings, allowing Lucas' body temperature to plummet during the trip up. Once on the surface, the silkies plugged the suit back in, popped the helmet and cleared his lungs. His improved absorption factor from the PFC solution quickly brought him around."

"So that's how Asali appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the Strait."

"Or wasn't swept into the ocean off the Russet Islands. She was swimming with our partner here and your local silkies."

"Selena, when you visited me three suns ago, did you already know about Sebastian and his sky-hull?" She giggled, grinning, and nodding 'yes'. Should have guessed, Sylvia thought, had Asali had sent anyone else but a silkie inquiring about the Sue DeNym, I'd have been suspicious. As the silkies disappeared into the harbour like furry torpedoes, Sylvia stood with her hands on her hips. "Gentlemales, I thank you for a most interesting 24-hours. However, you've worn out your welcome. Leave before the authorities arrive."

She walked off the boat without looking back and called Janet from Harbourmaster Whitehart's office. Her daughter arrived in WaterWings' runabout and, since the Strait was calm, they headed for the Sealsand group. The Main Island was a verdant volcanic remnant surrounded by wave-tormented cliffs and clouds of nesting birds. Only on the lee side, do the rocks give way to endless flat beaches of black sand. They found Lucas waiting for them, sleeping in the tall grass after a morning of body surfing. Neatly folded beside him was the PFC suit. None of them said much, their long embraces and joyful wet eyes going far beyond words. Quietly, they went home, Lucas gathering up the suit and walking to the boat with a new confidence. Sylvia was for chucking the suit overboard but Lucas said it wasn't their property and he was responsible for it. Secretly, Sylvia smiled at her son's sudden maturity. Entering the inlet, the sight and smell of burned docks and sunken hulks driving them further into silence. At home, they picked at the array of covered dishes left by their neighbours and went to an early bed.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Next morning brought change. Sylvia found the Sue DeNym, the Mebenga brothers and Roger Greentree had slipped away the previous afternoon. Calling the hospital, she learned that a military police transport had removed Asali under armed guard despite the doctors' protests. In the sunlight, Sylvia went down to survey her damage docks, mentally calculating how much the repairs would cost and how many years it would take to rebuild. As she stood sucking her buckteeth in despair, a loud drone filled the air. Sylvia wondered if Kali was making an unscheduled morning run but the noise kept getting louder. Rounding the northwest ridge, two jet-black military transports flew over the inlet in close formation. Skirting the lagoon's south shore, the planes suddenly disgorged two double-lines of paratroopers. In moments, the sky was filled with dun-coloured parachutes drifting in the breeze and khaki-clad figures landing softly on the Hooch's beach.

"My prayers are answered!" Janet said, coming up behind her mother, "Males from the sky! Tell me I'm not dreaming."

"I wish you were." Sylvia sighed, "Let's go find out what the hell is going on."

"Take it easy, Moma. Don't scare them off yet. Some of those guys look pretty hunky." She said, following.

"What about Albert Sweetland, your current boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend. Well, not my real boyfriend. We're more like really good... friends."

"Child, you're making life difficult." she said, smirking over her shoulder. As they rounded the lagoon, the paratroopers were moving with the efficient energy of ants. Once landed, each trooper rolled up his parachute and moved far away from the beach. Sylvia wondered why until a second drone began reverberating in the sky. A massive cargo plane, a golden sun displayed on its tail, came in low from the sea. Just clearing Buck's Island, it swooped below tree height and roared ponderously over the Hooch. A split-second before the plane started its deafening climb, parachutes opened under the tail. Tons of lumber and equipment appeared on the beach as if by magic.

Seeing the approaching pair, one of the paratroopers ran up to meet them with astonishing speed. Thin as a drink of ice water, the young male snapped to attention and saluted smartly.

"Are you Miss Sylvia Slipsunder?" he asked crisply. With his canary-yellow pelt covered with tiny black dots, he seemed to vibrate with energy.

"I am." She answered slowly.

"Shikamoo, Ma'am. I'm Sargent Duma of the 15^th Engineering Battalion, Nyumba Dola Home Guard. My orders are to reconstruct your deep water docks by 0800 hours tomorrow." He said in lilting Nyumbian, before switching to an at-ease position, "Would it be permissible to bivack in the grassy area beside your chakula hut?"

"Let me get this straight, Sergeant Duma. You're here to rebuild my docks?"

"Yes, Ma'am!" he said, the black strip outlining his eyes and muzzle wrinkling with his smile.

"For free?"

"Yes. Ma'am!"

"Why for eight o'clock tomorrow morning?"

"We were not told, Ma'am. However, completion of our work by that time was stressed to me as being paramount."

"Sargent, don't let me hold you up. Just try to keep out of the way of my guests." She said, with a sweep of her hand.

"Thank you, Ma'am!" He beamed then turned, energetically shouting a string of commands in Nyumbian. The soldiers sprang into organized action, some setting up camp, others clawing the protective coverings off the heavy equipment. Sylvia worried that guests would complain about the noise and the roped-off beaches but the majority simply asked what was going on. Most of the female (and several of the male) visitors preferred to watch. The Nyumba Dolians stripped to their shorts, the larger lions showing off their rippling physiques while the smaller canids and felines scrambled over the rising piers and beams with athletic gracefulness. Lucas, the resort's handymale, was amazed at how fast and systematic the soldiers were. While one team bolted supports in place, another was weatherproofing the other end of the dock. Sylvia told her new chef to give them whatever food or non-alcoholic drink they wanted. Sauscia threw open the Hooch and, when the last nail was pounded home, served a twilight banquet to the hungry soldiers. Late that night, while almost everyone slept soundly, Sylvia walked around her new docks, inhaling the scent of new wood, and confirming what was under her paws was real. She was so pleased, she did not even mind hearing Janet discovering whether one of Sargent Duma's troopers were as big naked as he was dressed.

"Moma? They're here." Sylvia raised her head from the pillow and opened one eye. Lucas stood in the doorway, the white of his eyes showing.

"Who's here?" she croaked. She squinted at her alarm clock which read 06:57. Who ever it was, "they" were early.

"You got to see for yourself. Arrived five minutes ago." He said. Sylvia rolled over to the window.

"It's still dim out. Thought we had a red sky last evening."

"It's not overcast, Moma. That's shadow." He said, "I'm going to head back to the docks." Sylvia flicked the sheet back, sat up, and stretched. Running a tongue over her teeth, she shuffled to the window and leaned out.

Lucas was right. The sky was not overcast, it was metal. A hundred meters above, a huge Galaxy-Class stratocruiser hovered humming, casting most of WaterWings and its lagoon into shadow. Sylvia brushed, washed, and dressed in one motion. Power-walking down to the dock three minutes later, her appearance caused Sargent Duma's troops to snap to attention. They lined both side of her new deep-water dock. At the end, lanky standard bearers held poles on which fluttered pennants emblazoned with a golden sun. Duma stood to one side, accompanied by the stratocruiser's Truenorth brass. In the centre, a tall equine sporting an amazing number of gold stripes on his uniform casually talked to a hunched figure on a folding stool. Seeing her, Sargent Duma marched up to Sylvia, winked, then escorted her onto the dock.

"Admiral. May I present Miss Sylvia Slipsunder." The tall equine grinned, his teeth like tombstones, and extended an firm handshake.

"Miss Slipsunder, I cannot express our pleasure at finally meeting you. I'm here on behalf of Admiral Freer, the Intelligence Head for Truenorth Central Command. May I introduce you to the Mzee Ushujaa, Ambassador for Nyumba Dola." The lion sitting before her had once been a heart-stopping specimen of masculinity. Now, he leaned on a short cane, his mane sun-bleached white, and his body was stooped with age. However, his cinnamon eyes were clear and the craggy face glowed with wisdom. Drawing himself up, his majestic stentorian voice rumbling with words more felt than heard. Sylvia glanced to Admiral Freer's representative for a translation.

"Ambassador Ushujaa is wondering what you are doing for the New Year's holidays." he said. Sylvia's eyebrows went higher than eighteen years of raising six children had ever sent them.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Despite the offer of an expenses-paid trip to Nyumba Dola, Sylvia was damned if anyone would go. Nyumba Dola, Ambassador Ushujaa, the whole of Truenorth, and especially Shaneika "Asali" Mbaya could go to Hell first, she screamed. When Janet broached the subject, Sylvia said that Asali had risked their lives. When Lucas spoke up, Sylvia snarled he had almost been killed.

"Mother, Geoffrey Greentree tried to killed me." He shouted back, "Asali may have died saving my tail. She paid to have Sebastian brought here. I know life's a gamble. Don't try to blame anyone for what we can't stop." Sylvia's staff and neighbours all agreed she needed at vacation. When talk could not convince their mother, her children resorted to silence and perfect obedience. After a week of this treatment, Sylvia contacted Ambassador Ushujaa's office to say the Slipsunders were going south that winter. Janet, Lucas, and Rale thought they had won.

Nothing could have been further from the truth. Nothing that her children or the powers in Truenorth and Nyumba Dola had said could convince her to go.

It was what had not yet happened that changed Sylvia's mind.