“We’d rather pay in cash.”
I recognized my mother’s firm voice and spotted her to the left of the dais. Pa always joked that Ma looked like an Amazon, but only because of her height. She was a scientist, not a fighter. As she rose to her feet, she seemed serious, not riled. “We’d get three times as much for our crops at market than what the government says they’re worth and you know it.”
Next to her, Pa straddled a chair, deep in thought— his usual reaction to any problem. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it spiked up like the prickles on a blowfish. Doc Kunze, however, who was a dozen years younger than Pa, wore an expression that more closely matched my feelings. With his long legs stretched out before him, at first glance Doc appeared relaxed, but his frown was so fierce, the corners of his mouth disappeared into the dark stubble of his beard. Even more telling, Doc massaged one scarred palm and then the other, which he only did when he was really vexed.
“Crops or cash,” barked Raj Dirani as he jabbed his seaweed cigar at Representative Tupper, “either way the ‘wealth is bleeding us dry.” Gemma shifted nervously beside me. I supposed Raj did look pretty savage with his diveskin split open, showing off chest hair thicker than a seal’s. “And what do we get for it?” he snarled. “A few lousy supplies sold wholesale, a wet-hating ranger, and a doctor who can’t even make a fist—no offense, Doc.”
With a wry smile, Doc tipped his hat to Raj and the assembly. It wasn’t true anyway. Doc could make a fist; he just couldn’t perform surgery. And it wasn’t like the station’s infirmary was a hospital.
“We’re not getting anything wholesale,” Pa said, getting to his feet. “Not lately. The Commonwealth hasn’t sent us a supply of Liquigen in months. We’re down to using the Trade Station’s emergency stock.” He waved at the dispenser in the corner with its empty glass tank. “I surely hope the lower station doesn’t sink during your visit, Representative Tupper.”
“As do I,” Tupper replied smoothly.
Clammy fingers touched my hand. “That’s a joke, right?” Gemma whispered. “The station can’t really sink.” Her face was whiter than a pearl and almost as shiny.
At that moment, the room lurched, which meant that down on the Access Deck some big sub had just dinged the rim of the moon pool while surfacing. Happened all the time. Gemma, however, didn’t seem to know this.
“Are you going to throw up?” I asked her.
“No,” she said indignantly, then considered it. “Maybe.”
With my foot, I nudged the waste can closer to her.
“So, if everyone is through voicing complaints,” Tupper said, “I’ll get to the point of my visit.”
Gemma poked my arm. “Can this place sink?”
“Yes,” I whispered, “but it’s nothing to fret over.”
On the dais, Tupper cleared his throat loudly. “On behalf of the Commonwealth of States, I’ve come to ask the settlers of Benthic Territory to help in the capture of the Seablite Gang.”
Noises of disbelief erupted from the crowd and the station shifted again. I heard Gemma sputter … but not from surprise. I hauled open the door. “There’s an air blower in the hall. Stand under it. You’ll feel better.” With a nod, she slipped out of the room.
Someone shouted, “That’s the ranger’s job.”
Ranger Grimes looked sweatier than usual as he pulled a pill bottle out of his pocket.
“Clearly he needs assistance.” Tupper’s lips held the barest smirk.
The ranger took off his hat—probably because his auburn hair was plastered to his scalp. “You try scouring the whole ocean for one stinking sub,” he growled, and then pried the cap off the bottle with such force, his pills scattered across the floor. His head must have pained him something awful because he instantly dropped to his knees to collect them.
Ignoring him, Representative Tupper spread out his hands. “You’re always going on about making Benthic Territory more independent. Self-governing. View this as an opportunity. This is your chance to prove that you can maintain the peace within your own settlement.”
“How do you want ‘em—dead or alive?” Raj asked.
Tupper smiled. “Your choice.”
He’d said it so coldly he could’ve raised goose bumps on a corpse. I didn’t like outlaws, but to hand out a death sentence so matter-of-fact felt plain wrong. And I wasn’t the only one who thought so. Pa stepped forward, finally looking angry.
“And if we refuse to form a posse?” he demanded.
“There are three incentives.” Tupper held up a finger, tourniqueted with a thick, gold ring. “One: The Commonwealth is halting all shipments to the settlement until the Seablite Gang is caught.”
No one said anything: The announcement was not a surprise. Everyone knew the government had lost a lot of money on stolen cargo. I cracked the door and spotted Gemma standing under the blower in the hall ceiling. She gave me a feeble wave.
“Two.”
I turned as Tupper raised another stubby finger and said, “Dr. Theo Kunze has been reassigned to the mainland.”
Kicking back his chair, Doc got to his feet. “Dr. Kunze is not inclined to go.”
“You’re a government employee, Doc,” Tupper reminded him. “And not one in good standing.”
Doc bowed his head. Though his dark hair hid most of his face, I saw that he’d flushed a hot shade of red. I seethed on his behalf. Everyone assumed that he had some black mark on his record. Same with the ranger. Why else would the ‘wealth have assigned them to an experimental settlement? But lots of pioneers came subsea looking for a fresh start and it was understood that if a person worked hard and contributed to the community, nobody would bring up his past. Let alone in front of a crowd. For all their overblown manners and convoluted etiquette, Topsiders could be ruder than a card shark spitting chewing weed.
“I can always quit and set up a private practice down here,” Doc said quietly, though his dark eyes glinted with anger.
“Not if your medical license is revoked,” Tupper replied. “You’ll go where you’re told, Doctor.” He uncurled a third finger. “Lastly, the Commonwealth will cease subsidizing new homesteads.”
“No!” I cried, not caring that I was alerting the assembly to my presence. Casual as you please, Representative Tupper had just snatched away my future. If I couldn’t stake a claim subsea, what was I supposed to do? Move into a box on the Topside? I’d fare worse than a fish on the sand. Looking none too happy, Pa headed my way.
“That start-up equipment isn’t a gift,” Ma said, riled at long last. “It gets repaid three times over in crops or the settler forfeits his land.”
“These don’t have to be permanent changes,” Tupper said in a soothing tone that made me want to throw a chair at him. “Since you all know the lay of the land down here, you’ll flush out the Seablite Gang in no time. And once you bring them in — dead or alive—the Commonwealth will reconsider the benefits of helping Benthic Territory to flourish.”
“If the settlement survives that long,” I said bitterly. Pa ushered me into the hall like I was a little kid.
Gemma stood a ways down the corridor, watching a huge leatherback turtle swim past, but Pa didn’t notice her. “Ty, this is important,” he whispered, shutting the door behind us.
“So I heard!” Reconsider the benefits … That wasn’t even a guarantee. “The ‘wealth can’t just change the rules and order us to hunt down outlaws.”
Pa gestured for me to keep my voice down. “That’s nothing you have to worry about.”
“Yeah, it is. If the territory goes under before I turn eighteen—”
“Listen, I have to get back in there.” He sounded hoarse, and it looked as if new lines had been etched around his mouth. “Why are you here? Did something happen?”
I hesitated. If I reported that the outlaws had likely murdered a prospector, how much more pressure would Representative Tupper put on the settlers to catch them?
“Nothing,” I said. “Forget it.” I’d tel
l my parents and the other settlers later, after Tupper had launched for the mainland.
Hand on the doorknob, Pa frowned. “You came to the Trade Station for nothing?”
Thinking fast, I said, “Gemma wants to see our homestead.”
“Gemma?” Now he noticed her and his brows rose in surprise. “Hello there.”
I couldn’t meet her eyes. Would she scoff at the idea of wanting to see an underwater farm?
“Hi.” She joined us without hesitation. “Sorry we disrupted your meeting.”
Baffled by her presence, Pa looked between the two of us. “Are your parents at the market?”
“Her brother lives down here. He’s a prospector,” I said, opting for the simplest explanation. “Can we take the cruiser? Just for a while. I’ll come back for you and Ma,” I offered, forcing myself not to fidget as Pa eyed me thoughtfully.
“We’ll catch a ride with Pete,” he said finally. “You two go have fun.” As an afterthought, he said, “I’m glad you came subsea, Gemma.”
She beamed. “Thanks.”
“Ty never gets to socialize with someone like you.”
“A Topsider?”
“A teenager,” Pa corrected with a smile.
CHAPTER
FIVE
“You’re the only kid in the whole territory?” Gemma asked yet again.
With a spin of the cruiser’s wheel, I turned the big family-sized sub more sharply than necessary. “The only teenager. There are other kids.” She was making me feel like an oddity. “Twenty-two of us.”
She snorted with laughter. “If there are twenty-two girls in the shower room with me, I consider that private—look out!”
Ahead, in the midnight blue water, a shimmering wall shot out of the seabed like a geyser. I smiled at her alarm.
“That’s our fence. It’s charged to keep livestock in and sharks out.”
“What’s it made of?” Then, as the cruiser drew closer, she answered her own question. “Bubbles!”
The sub hit the dense stream of bubbles and burst through to the other side. Gemma gasped at the light, bright as a summer day on the Topside. A flurry of fish surrounded the sub and then winnowed away to reveal acres of green fields. In the distance, larger fish moved in unison over the swaying kelp, illuminated by the huge banks of lights that encircled our property. “Hot tar,” she whispered, twisting to look in every direction at once.
“It’s pretty great,” I admitted. I was proud of what my parents had created out of the ooze, four hundred feet below the ocean’s surface. Especially since people had said it couldn’t be done. An unexpected tentacle of sadness wrapped around my heart. I’d picked out the land for my own homestead, measuring out the hundred acres of unclaimed terrain more times than I’d admit. The land was perfect, too — beautiful and rich with wildlife. But I couldn’t think about that now. I pointed at a shoal of pinkish red fish. “We have a side venture selling perch, but mainly we farm kelp and plankton.”
“Plankton?”
“Our meadow is up on the ocean surface.” Still she looked baffled, so I added, “You eat plankton every day. That green cream added to your food, what did you think it was made of?”
“Not plankton.”
Just then a tiny, glowing shrimp shot out of the jet spray of bubbles and onto the sub’s viewport.
“Look,” Gemma exclaimed. “It’s a gem o’ the ocean.”
“Yep,” I confirmed. “It was sucked up by the air jet and got the ride of its life.”
“Oh!” she cried as a cyclone of bright blue fish whirled past, and she climbed into the backseat to follow them. “You don’t eat those, do you?”
“No. Ma keeps them just for pretty. ‘Like flowers in a garden,’ she says.”
“But they’re tropical fish.” Gemma spilled back into her seat. “How can they live this deep?”
“Seawater is the same, deep or shallow. We just warm it up and add light and oxygen. The bubbles” — I pointed at the fence, which appeared silvery from this side — “keep in the heat.” When I glanced over and found her studying me, I tensed.
Flushing, she mumbled, “Your skin is distracting.” She pointed at the floating platform across the field. “What are those cages for?”
I leaned back from the control panel, knowing that its blue light made the fluorescent particles in my skin shimmer. At least she’d said distracting and not creepy. I steered the cruiser toward the platform lined with cages and basins. “Lobsters.” I named the contents of each container we crossed. “Crabs. Shri —” Gemma’s gasp cut me off. “What?”
Frantically, she pointed at the far end of the farm. “Look at that jellyfish!”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s our house.” It did look like an enormous jellyfish with its tentacles dangling into the kelp—if jellyfish grew big as blue whales.
Gemma gaped. “Your house? But it’s mushy!”
“I know. Your skyscrapers have hard walls and sit in the dirt. But it’s different down here. A building needs some give. The smaller ones are outerbuildings where we keep our goats and chickens.”
“You raise farm animals as well as fish?”
“Not to sell. We keep them for the milk and eggs.” Which reminded me I still had chores to do.
As we approached the giant undulating bell that was my home, Gemma’s expression softened. “It’s beautiful.”
“Pa modeled all the houses down here after deep-sea invertebrates. Mostly different kinds of jellyfish. Those shapes work better in water.”
“Your father designed all the buildings in Benthic Territory?”
“A lot of them.” Did she think I was bragging? I felt compelled to explain. “My parents were part of the research team that built the first homestead. Ma’s specialty is aquaculture, which is a fancy way to say deep-sea farming.”
We pulled up alongside my home. Transparent plastic wrapped the floating house, while honeycombed walls, filled with foamed metal, gave the building shape. I steered the cruiser past a large window and pointed at the room inside. “See? We don’t live much different from you.”
Gemma shot me a look. “Yes, we all have fish swimming outside our windows.”
“Besides that.” I dropped the sub through a school of red snapper.
“Besides that, your house is exactly like any stack-city apartment. Except it’s bigger than one room,” she continued, loading on the irony. “And not crammed into a concrete tower covered with doomsday graffiti.”
“They can’t all be that bad.”
“Some have two rooms,” she quipped, then turned serious. “Most people live on the affordable floors below the moving walkways and train tubes, so everything is shadowy.” She gazed at the expanse of green. “We’re the ones who are the Dark Life.”
Under the house, a crop reaper was moored in a hangar. I pushed an icon on the control board and the cruiser rose toward the large glowing hole in the bottom of the house. “It’s a moon pool,” I replied to her questioning look. “The air in the house is pressurized to keep the sea from flooding in.”
We surfaced inside the large, circular room. The ocean was dimly visible through the metal foam walls, giving the wet room a watery glow.
“I still don’t get it,” Gemma said. “Why doesn’t the pool overflow?”
“Ever turn a bucket upside down and push it underwater?” I popped the cruiser’s hatch and then looked back to see her nod. “Our house is the bucket,” I explained as I balanced on the sub’s sloped hull. “The air trapped inside keeps the water at a certain level.”
“Until the bucket tips,” Gemma said nervously as she stood up in the hatch and looked around.
“Our house doesn’t tip,” I assured her. “The anchor chains keep it balanced and they’re tethered to pylons in the seafloor.” Overhead, a catwalk circled the room. Had we arrived in one of my family’s two minisubs, I would have used the clamp to hoist the sub out of the water. But the cruiser was too big to store inside. “By the way
,” I said as I leapt to the moon pool’s submerged ledge. “We don’t like being called Dark Life.”
“Because you don’t really live in the dark?” She eyed the sliver of water between the bumper and the ledge.
“No. Because it’s a science term for bacteria that can live without light. We’re not bacteria.” I headed across the wet room, adding, “Just jump,” without looking back.
In the mechanicals room, I scanned the banks of monitors, checking the numbers—pressure, atmosphere, and temperature—getting the pulse of my home. I heard Gemma leap onto the ledge of the moon pool with a splash. Satisfied that the house was in working order, I rejoined her and showed her where to stow her helmet, gloves, and boots. Then I snapped our Liquigen packs into slots in the wall, explaining, “They’ll refill automatically.”
As I clicked on the viewphone to check for messages, Gemma wandered across the wet room. “Why does one family need so much space?”
I smiled at the judgment in her tone. Unlike light and air, we didn’t need to import space. “Vehicles, for one thing.” The equipment bay alone took up the whole right side of the wet room. “The med-shower is over there.” I pointed toward a door on the left. “In the changing room. You better check your vitals.”
Gemma was more interested in the enormous window on the opposite side of the moon pool. Behind the glass, a jungle bloomed. “It’s a greenhouse, isn’t it?” she asked. There was a splash by the cruiser. She jerked around. “What was that?”
“My sister probably. I better warn her about you.” As I knelt by the moon pool, Gemma hastened to my side. I turned my attention to the shadows beneath the house, but Zoe wasn’t climbing up the ladder. “What the heck?”
As Gemma bent, putting her hands on her knees, something whipped by the dangling ladder. “What was that?” she gasped.
“Darned if I know.” I leaned in for a better look, only to have the moon pool erupt with spray, which sent me sprawling back with a splash. I glanced up to see a hideous snakelike creature rising out of the water. Its eyes were yellow slits and a red fin crested its head like a bloody blade. I scuttled back while Gemma grabbed me by the arm, trying to drag me away. For a split second, the creature hovered above us. Then it shot forward, jaws wide, as it lunged for me.