Swimming Without a Net (10 page)

Fred spent another sleepless night fantasizing about
surgically removing Tennian’s ears and then stuffing them in her mouth.

And wondering if she had “bad” blood…traitor’s blood.

And wishing King Mekkam wasn’t quite so infatuated with the
Deadwood
prostitutes. (Apparently the queen, Artur’s mother, was long dead.)

And wondering if she shied away from committing to either of the men in her life because of honest disinterest, or fear.

It hadn’t been easy, extricating herself from Artur’s lap and grasp. Not least because she had been
way
too tempted to remain. But after a few well-placed kicks she’d been free to go…though if she’d known she was going to be in for a night of staring at the ceiling, she might have lingered.

The alarm went off—not that it woke her—and she was glad. Anything was better than lying in bed fretting.

And it was all so stupid! It’s not like she’d been hurt in other relationships, she thought, throwing the blankets back and beginning to get dressed. In fact, far from it.

Her adult life had been a series of one or two dates, blind dates, and occasional work dates. She hadn’t been interested in boys as a high school student, and then she’d been so busy at UMass there hadn’t been time for a steady relationship. And then she’d been concentrating on getting her Ph.D., and then her work at the aquarium had pretty much consumed her time.

She’d just never had
time
for a serious relationship. It had nothing at all to do with keeping men at a distance so they couldn’t reject her as a freak of nature.

Wait. Where had
that
come from?

Then she realized what she was doing, cursed, and pulled off all the clothes she’d just carefully put on. She couldn’t wear
clothes
to the Pelagic, for God’s sake! Nobody else would, that was for sure. She’d stand out enough without showing up in shorts and a shirt.

Naked, she walked out the door and nearly ran Jonas over.

“Whoa! Where’s the fire? My goodness, you’re looking…perky.”

“Shut up,” she growled.

Jonas fell into step beside her as she walked toward the surf. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look hideous. You’re hardly even pretty this morning.”

“Didn’t sleep.”

“Who could, with all that pressure you’re under? Look, don’t worry about it, they’ll love you.”

Fred snorted.

“Right, okay, well, they’ll think you’re interesting at the very least.”

“Do I keep men at a distance because I’m afraid they’ll reject me once they know I can grow scales?”

“Yes. Now just remember to be yourself. And—”

She skidded to a halt in the sand. “Wait. Yes?”

“Sure. Don’t you remember Jeff Dawson asking you out in our sophomore year? And Mark Dalton our junior year? And—”

“Those were all varsity morons.”

“Yeah, but you could have gone out if you’d wanted. You just didn’t want to.” She’d started walking again, and he was hurrying to keep pace. “Now don’t let the other mermaids intimidate you. And play nice with the other kids. And—”

“Be myself? That’s your advice? Be grouchy and antisocial and foulmouthed?”

“And it wouldn’t hurt you to say please and thank you once in a while.”

“Thanks for all the swell advice, Jonas.” She plowed into the surf, thankful once again that the water was so pleasant. “Don’t wait up.”

“And try not to pick any fights! It’s bad for your complexion!” he yelled after her, and then she was diving beneath the waves into that other world, her father’s world, and, mercifully, Jonas was very effectively cut off.

She forgot all of Jonas’s advice the minute she saw
Tennian’s twin.

Good morning,
she thought at him.

He was talking to two mermaids and a merman—the merman was Kertal, but she didn’t recognize the women—and didn’t turn.

GOOD MORNING, JACKASS!
Then she swam right up behind him and poked him rudely between the shoulder blades.

She thought she saw Kertal grin, but couldn’t be sure. Tennian’s brother slowly turned around and said, with great reluctance,
Good morning.

I’m Fred. And you are…?

Rennan.

Hello again, Fredrika,
Kertal said politely. He gestured to the women, one a tiny creature with true black hair—not dark brown,
black
—and matching eyes, the other long and slender, with grenadine-colored hair and eyes.
This is Meerna, and Bettan.

Hi, ladies.

It was kind of you to join us,
Kertal added.

Oh, heck, I wouldn’t have missed it. So! Isn’t it so incredibly awkward that my father tried to overthrow the monarchy three decades ago?

Again, she thought she saw a smile on Kertal’s face, but it vanished too quickly for her to be sure.

The small, black-haired mermaid blinked and finally replied,
Yes. I suppose that is awkward.

Is it true you’ve lived nearly all your life on the surface?
the tall redhead asked. She was pale, like every Undersea Folk Fred had ever met, but so pale her skin was almost translucent. She’d probably burst into flames if she ever set foot on land.

Yeah, that’s true. I never knew my father, so I never knew about you guys.

Then it is well that King Mekkam found you.

Fred wasn’t sure about that at all, but now wasn’t the time.
I s’pose.

I need to see to my sister,
Rennan said stiffly.
Excuse me.

Super great to see you again!
Fred thought after him.
Let’s have lunch!

I do not think he will dine with you,
Kertal said soberly.

No shit. I was just yanking his chain. I can handle anything but being ignored.

And in that,
Bettan said coolly,
you are much like your sire.

Without another word, she swam off.

Oh, Jonas,
Fred thought, suddenly terribly lonesome for her friend, for land, for the sky, for
air
.
What good is being myself if they’ve already made up their minds about me?

Well. We had better go take our places,
Kertal said.
It was—it was nice to see you again.

Good-bye,
Meerna added, not looking Fred in the eye. And off they swam.

Fred slowly swam after them, taking her time so they could pull as far ahead of her as they liked. She could see several clusters of Undersea Folk, and simply followed them.

A few miles out from shore, they were plenty deep but it was difficult to swim anywhere without bumping into a mermaid. She caught herself looking for spotlights or bleachers and reminded herself that this was not going to be like any other meeting she had attended. Why in the world was she picturing an underwater pep rally?

For one thing, even if a boom mike could somehow work down here, it wouldn’t be needed in a group of telepaths. Which reminded her, Thomas was going to have no idea what they were talking about.

Hmm. Perhaps the king wasn’t being quite as open-minded as they were giving him credit for. What did he care if a surface dweller who already knew about mermaids saw a bunch of them getting together? Especially when the only way he’d know what they were discussing would be if someone told him?

And, speak of the devil, here came the URV, gliding almost silently toward her. She could see Thomas behind one of the windows, at the controls, and he waved madly at her before settling down to navigate. The URV glided past her and then settled into what appeared to be a stationary orbit, giving Thomas several angles to shoot from.

And, as with any school of fish, there were a lot more Undersea Folk than appeared at first glance. She tried to estimate and thought there were at least five hundred that she could see. And the meeting would be “projected” telepathically to the Undersea Folk who wished to participate but couldn’t make it to the Caymans in time.

Unbelievable.

Most of them were slender, with the typically longer tail that was broader at the hips. The tails were all in shades of blue or green (or both), while hair and eye color tended to match, or only be off by a shade. Attending the Pelagic was like looking at a fabulous living rainbow, because there were no brunettes or blonds or strawberry blonds. No, there were blue-haired folk, orange-haired, forest green, cotton candy pink, buttercup yellow…

Unbelievable.

And there was apparently some sort of statute that all Undersea Folk had to be attractive, because they all
were
. It was ridiculous.

(It did not occur to Fred that she wasn’t exactly hard to look at, either.)

She was staring, and knew it, and was helpless to stop. But that was all right, because she caught quite a few people looking at her as well.

Looking at her, and then looking at each other. Talking to each other. Gossiping, to be perfectly blunt. But Fred couldn’t hear them. So perhaps Undersea Folk telepathy was a little more complicated than she had first imagined. You couldn’t “overhear” something you weren’t meant to; the thought had to be projected at you, into your mind.

She thought,
Too bad about all those great whites headed this way
. But it was just a stray thought; she wasn’t trying to “talk” to anyone, or be overheard.

Nobody looked toward her; nobody reacted.

Hmmm
.

Let the Pelagic come to order,
Mekkam’s voice boomed in her head, and just like that, it had begun.

Fred paid careful attention, but found she was able to
eyeball the other Undersea Folk while following the events of the Pelagic, and that was fine by her.

And she was beginning to get an idea why her father had wanted to overthrow King Mekkam. How had Tennian explained it? An accident of birth? Mekkam’s mind-touch?

Well, that was for sure; Mekkam controlled the meeting and kept everyone on track,
and
made sure Undersea Folk halfway around the world could “hear” what was going on as well. No friggin’ wonder he was the king! And if Artur had that kind of telepathy, it was no shock that he’d be the king after Mekkam bit the big one.

How,
Fred wondered,
could my dad have ever thought he could overthrow this guy?
For one thing, Mekkam could
read everybody’s mind
. Even if, as she suspected, an Undersea Folk had to make an effort, put a specific thought into somebody’s mind, Mekkam could still probably head off any plot he wanted.

She shook off thoughts of her traitorous (and apparently idiotic) father and focused on the Pelagic.

The way Mekkam explained it to everyone (though she imagined most of the people at the Pelagic knew the scoop), there were two basic factions among the Undersea Folk.

The Air Breathers, mostly younger Folk who didn’t necessarily think the king was the be-all and end-all, felt that hiding from the surface dwellers was something out of the twentieth century (and the nineteenth, and the eighteenth…).

The Air Breathers felt they had just as much right to walk around on land as any surface dweller and they didn’t want to spend even one more generation in hiding.

The Traditionals, those who follow the dictates of the royal family without question, felt that the royal family has had it right for the past six generations: there is far, far more ocean than land, and there was more than enough to hide from bipeds while at the same time living a comfortable life.

Thus, the Pelagic: a meeting to decide whether the Undersea Folk were going to stay hidden…or show themselves to CNN, among others.

Once Fred realized exactly what was at stake, she began to get a niggling feeling about the reason why she had been urged to attend. Because she, unlike anyone else here, was a child of both worlds. She imagined it was only a matter of time before Mekkam called for her testimony.

And what in the world would she say?

“Then what happened?”

Fred accepted a Coke—she was amazed Tennian had left any in the URV’s galley—and cracked the can open, then slurped up the foam before any could hit her shirt. Well, Thomas’s shirt. He had offered her a clean pair of boxers and one of his T-shirts, and her hair was bound up in a towel. At least she wasn’t parading around naked in front of him. Anymore. For today.

It was different when she was in her tail form, that was all. It could be argued she was just as naked then, but it sure felt different.

“Fred? Then what happened?”

“Oh. Sorry.” She forced herself to quit contemplating Thomas’s boxer shorts and answered him. “Then a bunch of my dad’s people got up and reminded everyone—like we needed it—that you horrible surface dwellers are treacherous, disgusting, rotten sonsabitches who shit where you eat.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow at her, and she shrugged in return. “Don’t forget, you were the only biped Artur had ever met who
didn’t
shit where he ate.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t remind me. So that’s really what all this is about? It’s just that some of the mermaids really want to come out of the closet?”

“Yep, some of them do. They just have to talk all the others into it. And don’t belittle it; it’s a huge deal.”

“So they’re going to, what? Debate back and forth?”

“Until Mekkam figures out a majority are ready to vote. Then they’ll—we’ll—vote.”

Thomas perched on the tiny galley counter. “I guess it has to be all or nothing, doesn’t it? If fifty of them want to walk up on a beach, they can’t unless the entire—what? Race? Species? Anyway, they all have to be on the same side, don’t they?”

“Yeah, they—”

“So how are you going to vote?”

“Me?” she gasped. “I’m still freaking out over being invited; I have no idea how I’ll vote.”

“Vote yes!” Thomas begged. He leapt off the counter, seized her by the hands, and began to waltz her around the tiny galley. “Then we won’t have to hide your tail from all my cousins. We can get married at the New England Aquarium and go swimming in Main One.”

“Let me go!” she protested, trying not to giggle at the thought of her in the main tank, clad in her tail and a bridal veil. “Stop acting like such a numskull.”

He dipped her. “Marry me, vote yes, come out of the water closet—get it?—and we’ll see the world in the URV.”

“Will you stop goofing around?” She struggled out of the dip and (gently) removed his hands from her. He was just clowning around; Jonas did the same thing every damned day.

Except her heart didn’t pound when Jonas did it. She didn’t feel faint when Jonas did it. She—

The intercom buzzed and Thomas hopped down from the counter. “That’s Jonas.”

“Agh!”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Uh, sorry, I didn’t think it would, y’know, terrify you. Having him here and all. I called him when it looked like you guys were breaking it off for the day. Hit the red button and then come on in!” he called.

Fred swallowed her disappointment. She had hoped to have a bit more alone time with Thomas. After spending the day surrounded by her father’s kind, and with various people in her head of all places, she was hoping to wind down with one, count ’em,
one
fella. And not Jonas, though she loved him to death.

“My Christ, that’s a long swim!” Jonas gasped. “I felt like Flipper’s stunt double!” He was dripping wet (naturally), his snorkel and mask dangling from one hand. Unlike most of the people who walked through the air lock, he was wearing shorts and fins. He stood on one foot to yank each flipper off. “You’ll be sorry if I drown on the way out here.”

“I’m moored not even fifty yards offshore,” Thomas protested mildly. “There’s almost no tidal activity to swim against and the water’s crystal clear all the way out. Admit it: you’re only on the Islands to work on your tan.”

“I’d never deny that,” Jonas said, tossing the fins in a corner and then hopping up and down on one foot, shaking his head. “I swear to God, I’ve got half a gallon of water in each ear.”

“Is that why you swam out here?” Fred asked, taking another gulp of Coke. “To bitch?”

“Naw. So tell me about the big meeting.”

Briefly, Fred filled him in on day one of the Pelagic.

“Huh. Well, that explains why they were so hot to get you down here,” Jonas said.

“It’s a really good thing,” Thomas commented, “that you’re smarter than you look.”

“Fuck off, Pearson, or I’ll never buy another one of your sleazy books ever again. So how are you going to plead?”

“What?” Fred asked.

“For or against humanity?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I haven’t had a lot of time to think about it.”

“I think you should tell ’em to go for it. I think the Air Breather contingent has a point: Why
should
they hide from most of the planet? It’s just as much theirs as it is ours.”

“I don’t know,” Thomas said quietly. “As a species, we’ve got a long history of intolerance and genocide. Maybe they’re better off staying hidden. The oceans are gigantic. We’d never have to know. Hell, they managed to convince all of
us
that they’re myths. That’s quite a trick, when you think of it. A shame to undo it.”

“See, that’s where I run into problems.” Fred finished her Coke. “I can see both sides of the issue. There’re plenty of reasons to do it. There’re plenty not to, also.”

“Is that what you’re going to get up there and say? ‘Hi, my name is Fred, my dad tried to kill the royal family and I’m not sure if you should speak up or stay hidden.’ Hmm, that actually might make Artur fall out of love with you.” Jonas began excitedly jumping around the URV. “That could do the trick!”

“Shut up, Jonas. You’re supposed to be helping.”

“I am helping,” he said, hurt.

“You want to make Artur fall out of love with you?” Thomas asked, leaning forward.

“I’m just—we’re just joking around.”

“Because,” he added, giving her a slow grin, “I know a perfect way to do that. Or, if not make him fall out of love, at least really make him mad.”

“Down, boy.” But Fred couldn’t help it; she grinned back.