"I think Vashon's in danger," Brett said. "Guemes was much smaller, but still ... sinking Islands is just too simple a diversion for somebody like Gallow to resist. About the time those tanks come down, he'll try to sink Vashon. I'm sure of it."
"Did he say anything specific?" Twisp asked. "Could he have found a real hyb tank manifest?"
Brett shook his head. "I don't know. Something that big ... he'd have to brag about it. Bushka, he ever say anything to you about what's up there?"
"Gallow has ... dreams of grandeur," Bushka said. "Anything that'll feed those dreams is real to him. He never claimed to know what was in the tanks; he just knew the political value of having them."
"Brett's right about Gallow," Scudi said.
Twisp could make out the dark flash of her eyes in the growing light. "Gallow's like a lot of Mermen - they believe the hyb tanks will save the world, destroy the world, make you rich or curse you forever."
"Same with Islanders," Brett said.
"Speculation, but no facts," Twisp said.
Scudi looked from Brett to Twisp and back to Brett. How like Twisp Brett sounded! Laconic, practical - all based on rocklike integrity. She studied Brett more carefully then, seeing the stringy strength in his young body. She sensed the power of the adult he would become. Brett was already a man. Young, but solid inside. It came over her like a quick-dive narcosis that she wanted him for a lifetime.
Twisp turned to the controls, started up the motor and set a course for Vashon. The coracle surged across the kelp into open water.
Scudi glanced around the brightening day. She scratched under the neck seal of her dive suit, and, with an impatient gesture, shucked out of the suit and spread it across the thwarts to dry. She did this after one smiling glance at Brett, who smiled back.
Twisp glanced once at her, noting the vestigial webs between her toes, but otherwise an ideal, Merman-normal body. He hadn't seen that many up close. He forced himself to look away, but noticed that Bushka, too, could not help staring at Scudi. She worked close beside Bushka, turning the dive suit and fluffing it as the wind blew it dry. Twisp watched Bushka's eyes flick up from the water, over Twisp at the stern, up and down Scudi's body, back to the water.
Twisp had long believed that Mermen didn't have the same drives as Islanders, and he related it to the free display of their perfect bodies. Scudi's display bore that out in his mind. Mermen lived so much of their lives either without clothes or in skin-clinging dive suits that they would have to develop different feelings about the body than the bulky-clothed Islanders.
Not much difference between nudity and a dive suit, Twisp thought. He could see that Bushka was bothered by Scudi's proximity and her nudity. Brett was doing what any normal Islander might - giving Scudi the privacy of not looking at her. Scudi, however, was not able to keep her eyes off Brett.
Something going on there, Twisp decided. Something strong. He reminded himself that Mermen sometimes married Islanders, and sometimes it worked out.
Bushka shifted his attention from Scudi to Brett and the look on Bushka's face was like a shouted statement to Twisp. It was the kid's eyes.
Not as normal as I am! That was the look on Bushka's face.
Twisp remembered seeing a long-armed Islander once holding hands with a long-armed woman - the first time he'd seen two of them in one place. It had taken Twisp a long time to dig out his personal rejection of that scene and with his digging had come a valuable insight.
Like me. That's how we define human.
He had traced that thought down its dark trail and come up with his own reason for judging that couple.
Jealousy.
He had only chosen women who were different from himself. Chances of passing along a specific trait to children got too high when similar mutants paired. Sometimes it was a genetic time-bomb that didn't show for one or two generations.
Most of us aren't willing to pass along anything except hope.
Something similar was going on in Bushka.
He doesn't like Brett, Twisp thought. He doesn't know it yet. When he figures it out he won't know why. He won't want to admit it's jealousy and it wouldn't do much good to tell him.
It was obvious to anyone who looked at her when she studied Brett that Scudi had eyes only for the kid.
Brett had found the larder and quick-heated some fish stew. Without looking at Scudi, he said, "Scudi, something to eat?"
Scudi, her dive suit aired out sufficiently, slipped it back over her lithe young body. She finished closing the seals. "Yes, please, Brett," she said. "I'm very hungry."
Brett passed her a filled bowl and looked a question at Twisp, who shook his head. Bushka accepted a bowl from Brett after a slight hesitation that spoke loudly to Twisp.
Doesn't want to owe the kid anything!
Brett had been brought up on Islander courtesy over food and so had Bushka. The early training dominated. Brett completed the usual ritual before filling his own bowl. A dasher couldn't have gobbled it faster. Presently, Brett held his bowl over the side, cleaned it and put it away. He looked up at Twisp.
"Thanks," he said.
"For what?" Twisp asked, surprised. The food belonged to all of them.
"For teaching me how to pay attention, and how to think."
"Did I do that?" Twisp asked. "I thought people were born knowing how to think."
Bushka heard this exchange with an ill-concealed sneer. He sat brooding. The news about Gallow and his crew - Green Dashers! In striking range! The proximity of the Gallow-Nakano-Zent trio filled Bushka with terror. They were sure to come looking for the fugitives. Why wouldn't they? Ryan Wang's daughter was here, for Ship's sake! What a hostage! He thought then about Zent, those glossy, unfeeling eyes with their deep-down delight at pain. Bushka wondered how these two young people had outsmarted the likes of them, although Gallow was prone to underestimate his opposition. Bushka looked straight at Scudi. Ship! What a body! Whoever owned her owned the world, and he knew that was no exaggeration. There could be little doubt that her father had controlled much of Pandora through his food operations, and now that he was dead it would surely pass to Scudi. Bushka half-closed his eyes and studied the young couple beside him.
Gallow must've thought them a couple of scared kids.
Bushka had learned the danger of assumptions while he'd been boat-bound with Twisp. Scudi obviously had a first-love crush on the kid ... but that would pass. It always did. Her father's minions were still alive. They would put a stop to it once they found out. Once they took a good look at the kid's mutated eyes.
Twisp stood up at the tiller and peered ahead, shading his eyes against the rising ball of sun. "Foil," he said. "It's heading for Vashon."
"I told you!" Bushka shouted.
"Looked like an orange stripe along the cabin top," Twisp said. "Official."
"They're looking for us," Bushka said. His teeth began to chatter.
"Not changing course," Twisp said. "They're in a real hurry." He reached down and flipped the switch on his emergency-band radio receiver.
The sound of the Vashon announcer came on in midsentence: "... who there was no immediate further threat to Vashon's substructure. We are hanging bottom on a kelp margin of enormous dimensions. There is exposed land and surf immediately to the east of us. Fishermen are advised to approach us through the clear water from the southwest. We repeat: All downcenter areas are being evacuated because of grounding. Vashon itself is in no immediate danger as long as the calm weather holds. Repairs are proceeding and Merman help has been assured. Hourly bulletins will be provided and you are advised to keep tuned to the emergency band."
Scudi shook her head and whispered, "Current Control wasn't supposed to let something like that happen."
"Sabotage," Bushka said. "It's Gallow's doing. I know it."
"Exposed land," Twisp muttered. The big change was happening. He could feel it.
Down the course of history, people have been the principal cause of human deaths. It is possible to alter that course here on Pandora.
Ward Keel's head throbbed in time to his heartbeat. He opened his eyes a crack but shut them quickly against the painful stab of white light. A demanding interior whine filled his ears, blotting out the world around him. He tried to lift his head but failed. His neck support had been removed. He tried to remember if he had removed it. Nothing came to him. He knew there should be things to remember but his throbbing head took most of his attention. Again, he tried to lift his head and gained only a few millimeters. The back of his head thumped onto a hard, flat surface. Nausea gripped his throat. Keel gulped quick lungfuls of air to keep from vomiting. The air tasted thick and humid and did not help much.