WARP world (4 page)

“Stop this!” Odrell yelled.

The room fell silent. Ama’s chest heaved as she fought to contain her emotions. For a long moment, everyone just stared. “It isn’t true,” Ama muttered, then turned and ran.

“Ama!” Thuy cried after her but she was already to the door.

Half blind, she ran—her heart and chest tight and painful—back to the only friend she still had.

Below deck, by the light of a lantern, Ama tore off her clothes, hurling them in a pile on the bed in her sleeping berth, while she muttered curses. When she was down to her waterwear, she reached her hands behind her neck and tugged impatiently at the laces holding her nove in place. They were tight–how long had it been since she had last taken it off?

The wide piece of leather fell away and her dathe, the thin slits of skin halfway down her neck tingled as air tickled them.

Her dathe, a remnant from the ancient, water dwelling Kenda, allowed her to breathe underwater. Their tiny vibrations created pictures for her, outlined shapes of a world she could not see otherwise.

They were also one more mark of difference between her and the rest of her people–no one had dathe anymore, not for centuries. Since she could remember, her mother and father had warned her to keep them hidden, from everyone. No chances could be taken, not even her own kind could know. Were the Shasir to learn of her ‘abomination’, they would claim she was a demon, one of the O’scuri that dwelt below ground and feasted on souls. She would be sacrificed to the gods, along with the rest of her family. All of the Kenda would be suspect, all would suffer because of her.

She was careful to hang the concealing nove on the hook next to the likeness of her mother. Her fingers drifted over the age-stained paper that prevented her mother from leaving her completely.

Tall and slender, with eyes that changed colour with her surroundings, Colwyn Kalder stared down at her daughter. She had golden hair tied in a knot because, like Ama, she could never be bothered to fuss with it. She wore a smile that hid her dissatisfaction with the life she had been herded into. Here, aboard the
Naida
, Colwyn Kalder was alive and well in her daughter.

“I won’t let them,” Ama whispered, her fingers moving from the paper to the worn wood of the
Naida
’s hull. “I won’t let them separate us.”

There was only a sliver of a moon, the docks were empty, nothing could be heard but creaking wood and lapping water. As she hurried above deck, Ama kept a watchful eye. It was dangerous, exposing herself as she was. One never knew where Shasir spies might be hiding, but tonight she needed release. More than that, she needed to forget.

In a motion as familiar as breathing, she sprung up onto the bow and dove into the black water with barely a splash. Her second eyelids—the thin, filmy layer that protected Kenda eyes from salt and cold—were up before she hit. On her neck, the freshly exposed dathe went to work pulling oxygen from the water and sounding the area so that Ama could ‘see’ the world below the surface.

She dove deep, letting the current sweep her toward the Big Water. She would not go that far, though she could, and without raising her head above water once.

Praise you, Nen, Water Father
, she thought, shocked at the depth of the gratitude she felt.

But why shouldn’t she be grateful for her gift? An onom turtle swam by, she could tell from the shape of its shell and flippers. A lucky sign. Onoms were rare, hunted nearly to extinction by the Damiar. In the water, they were almost impossible to catch but on land, where they nested, they were slow and awkward. An entire colony could be taken in a single day and so they had been. For all she knew, this one could be the last of its kind. Just like her.

She pumped her legs harder and caught up with a spinner; the two of them rolled and twisted around each other. Eternally playful, spinners frequented the rivers, though they preferred white water and waves, anything to surf or leap out of.

If she were to encounter a person down here—one of the Nen-tribu,
tribes of Nen
, that lived beyond the Rift, the long ago home of the Kenda—what would she do? She knew the history, knew about the civil war between the Kenda-tribu and the Vakua-tribu that had driven her people across the Rift and onto the land; her kind had good reason to be wary. Even though the nove—the collars they had worn to hide their dathe after their exodus from the deep, countless generations past—was now merely decoration, the old fear persisted. The Kenda’s ancient rivals no longer hunted them. Good for her people. Only, on nights like these, she wished she didn’t have to be like the onom turtle. Alone.

According to Kenda prophesy, their exile from the water would not be permanent. One day their savior, the Kiera-Nen,
Nen’s chosen one
, would appear and lead an army against their enemies. Would lead them home. That story had been enough for her to cling to as a child, but now that promise was beginning to sound as empty as any of the Shasir’s.

As it slowed, the spinner dipped beneath Ama and let her wrap her arms around its neck. With long, languorous pumps of its tail, the animal turned and carried his passenger back in the direction of the
Naida
.

Praise you my brother
, Ama thought, stroking the slick fur of the spinner’s belly, a long-absent sense of calm returning. She would swim for hours tonight, to wash away the day.

“I have the target,” the lead trooper called. Moonlight washed over the valley, the water gurgling as if issuing threats, or so Seg imagined, though the others were more used to it and did not seem perturbed. “Do I acquire?”

“Hold,” Kerbin ordered, her voice terse. “Flankers, clear?”

The flankers chorused that their areas were clear, there were no witnesses lurking around to reveal the existence of the recon squad once they made their move. Seg glanced at Manatu, who sat immobile, eyes flickering constantly in a state of ready vigilance. He glanced at Kerbin; her stillness mirrored Manatu’s.

First acquisition was rife with peril. Aside from the potential for their presence being revealed early and compromising the mission, there was the tremendous uncertainty as to what they were really facing. All the troopers sat as still as stone pillars. Vigilant.

Kerbin’s head jerked in a slight nod. “Acquire.”

“Moving.”

S
eg stared at the film overlay in his palm, cupped toward his chest
so the faint light didn’t give away his position. The thermal readout indicated the relative positions of the trooper and his prey. The stunner the trooper carried required him to move within an arm’s reach of the target; a heavy dose of voltage would handle the rest. Through the audio pickup, Seg could hear the trooper’s regulated breathing, the water, and a faint splashing as the trooper’s target moved through it. He sucked in a breath, wondering if the trooper would have to enter the water and risk exposure to whatever hostile fauna lurked within.

His stomach clenched, muscles locking in a small spasm that made him shudder. Time was crawling. Couldn’t the trooper move any faster?

On screen, the trooper’s icon moved in on the target. The audio pickup caught the sound of the stunner discharging. There was a loud splash, a muttered curse, then the sound of sloshing water.

The trooper had entered the water; Seg’s stomach tightened further at the thought.

“Acquisition made,” the trooper reported. A long pause followed and then, “Going to need some help hauling him back. He’s a heavy bastard.”

Ama paused only to squeeze the water from her hair before she finished climbing the rope ladder dangling from the stern of the
Naida
.

“Enjoy your swim?”

She gasped; the disembodied voice came from somewhere midship. She shook her hair forward and smoothed it to cover her dathe as she squinted into the dark.

The outline of a man stepped to the portside, his walk casual, his posture relaxed.

“Whoever you are, get off my boat before I throw you off!” Ama’s voice faltered slightly. In her anger and hurry, she had left her knife, over-clothes, and nove below deck, in her quarters. The forbidden seft, hidden in the transom, could have her sent to Correction and therefore was for only the direst of emergencies.

“I think you are mistaking me for a threat, Captain Kalder. This is a friendly visit.”

Now she recognized the voice. She took a step back as the man stepped forward, hands raised to show his innocent intentions.

“Judicia Corrus,” she said, her voice higher than normal. Had Uval complained to the local Damiar enforcement after all? “Blessings of the Shasir upon you.” She looked over each shoulder. If Corrus were here then his Head Constable, Dagga, would be too. “Your notice said I had thirty days, I—”

“You have your thirty days, Amadahy. Have no fears there.”

His tone was obviously meant to be reassuring but Ama felt no such thing, as Dagga finally appeared from out of the hatch that led below deck. Moonlight reflected off his bald head, which sat on his neck like a block of stone and was thatched with thin scars. He didn’t speak, didn’t even acknowledge Ama’s presence as he clomped his way to her side, where his body eclipsed hers.

“Should I have fears somewhere else?” Ama’s eyes flicked down to the large blade sheathed on Dagga’s hip.

“Witty, I like that,” Corrus said, and stepped forward again. Now the moonlight caught his face, casting his soft features in harsh shadow. To Ama, Judicia Corrus had always seemed like a shard of glass–smooth and clean, but so sharp it could cut you almost by looking at it. Even now, the shine of his black and silver hair threatened to draw blood. Most on the docks feared Dagga, but it was Corrus who had always sent ice through Ama’s veins.

“I came to talk to you about the notice, actually. As a friend,” he continued.

“A friend?” Ama ducked her chin to keep her hair forward, over her dathe, and inched sideways, away from Dagga.

“Is that so strange?” Corrus raised his palms; his eyebrows also rose. “Ama, I have no grudge against you, I don’t draw up notices and fines because I enjoy making your life unpleasant. As a representative of the Shasir, among the people, I have a duty to enforce the laws and ensure order. I am the hand of the gods, a responsibility I take seriously. And you have to admit,” he smiled, his white teeth gleamed, “you can be boisterous, disruptive, even a little wild, from time to time.”