Oblivious to the partygoers’ antics, Fife launched into his explanation. “Rain or shine, on the first of the month, the townships show up at Rip Tide to collect their rations. When Fiddleback didn’t show up one month, I told the Seaguard that something tragic must have happened. These townships need the supplies too much to skip a month. But the Seaguard did nothing. Six months later, Surge stopped coming. Called that in—nothing. Finally, this month when Nomad didn’t show, the Seaguard sent young Captain Revas to investigate. Can’t say I’m too impressed. Heard you two found Nomad.” Fife hailed a waiter. “Bring me a glass of sugar kelp wine. And for you,” he said looking at us, “carrageen milk shakes?”
“No, thanks,” I said, knowing Gemma hated the mossy red seaweed, especially when served as a spicy, gelatinous drink.
“Why would someone do it?” Gemma asked him. “Kill all those people?”
“I think I’ll keep my mouth shut on that subject or I might end up anchored to the seafloor.”
“We won’t repeat it,” she assured.
With a sigh, Fife leaned across the table. “It’s a guess, that’s all, but I think certain government officials might be tired of fulfilling a treaty that was made eighty years ago.”
Gemma shot me a told-you-so look.
“The past few years, the ’wealth has been sending fewer rations. The surfs are barely scraping by. When I asked about it, I was told that the order to cut back came from on high. Wouldn’t surprise me if other orders got passed down as well.”
“To anchor a township?” I asked, disbelieving. “No one would obey an order like that.”
“History says otherwise,” Fife countered. “Look at it this way: Who stands to benefit if the surfeit population goes down? Only the government.” Suddenly a hearty smile spread over his face. “Well, hello, Rep. Care to join us?”
I turned to see Representative Tupper coming up behind me. Fife sent us a conspiratorial look—as if we needed to be told not to criticize the ’wealth around Tupper.
“No, I’m heading back to the mainland now,” Tupper said. His streaky zinc slather gave him an unsettling look—like his face was melting. “But when I saw you with the Townson boy,” he went on, “I had to come over. You’re telling him all that he wants to know, right?”
Fife met eyes with me. “I think I’ve told Ty more than he wanted to know.”
Tupper thumped me on the back. “Good. Because I’ve been giving your parents’ situation some thought, young man. If the surfs are brazen enough to abduct two of the territory’s founders, how does that look to the public? Why, it could slow down the seaward expansion. And I can assure you, no one wants that.”
I felt my resentment rise. In Tupper’s view, my parents’ kidnapping was a public relations problem.
“Which is why I’ve instructed Captain Revas to keep me apprised,” he went on. “If she isn’t able to recover your parents in the next twenty-four hours, I will bring up the incident on the floor of the Assembly. I’ll call it an act of terrorism,” he finished grandly.
“What good will that do?” Gemma asked.
“My dear, a terrorist incident cannot be ignored. Not by the state representatives or the public. The surfs will have to choose: return your parents or become an official enemy of the Commonwealth.”
“Why wait twenty-four hours?” I twisted in my seat to face him. “Why not put the pressure on now?”
“What a rustic life you lead on the great plains of the ocean floor,” he said with amusement. “I can’t throw around a word like ‘terrorist’ without getting the Assembly’s approval first. Off the record, of course. Wouldn’t want to spoil the ‘shock effect’ of my speech. Well, good night, all.”
The party on the sundeck was growing louder. The music, laughter, even cheers.
Fife regarded me with undisguised interest. “I didn’t know that your parents were such important people.”
“They’re not,” I said. “They’re just subsea farmers. But they’re important to me.”
“And me,” Gemma said.
Fife got to his feet. “Well, I have to go find someone to guard our fugitive.” He shot me a sympathetic look. “Shade is a friend of yours, I know. Mine, too. But my hands are tied. You understand that?”
I nodded while Gemma focused on rewrapping her sari.
“Can I ask you something quick?” I asked.
“Of course,” he said, beckoning us to walk with him.
“I need to go to Hardluck Ruins.” Ignoring Fife’s raised brows, I asked, “You know where that is, right?”
“I do….” His surprise turned into suspicion. “What exactly are you looking to buy?”
“Nothing. I just think I might find answers there. About Drift.”
Fife stopped short. “Who put that idea into your head?”
“Good question,” Gemma said, pointedly tossing the loose end of her sari over her shoulder.
“Who cares? What matters is finding my parents.”
“There’s no information booth in Hardluck Ruins,” Fife said. “It’s a place where ‘dangerous’ and ‘unsavory’ describe a good day.”
“I’m old enough to decide what I can handle.”
“There’s a term for that, son: famous last words.”
When I didn’t crack a smile, he studied me.
“All right. Tell Revas to send a few troopers to check it out. That is their job.”
“I’m done asking Captain Revas for help. She’s got other priorities.”
“Won’t argue with you there,” Fife said. “But I’m not going to help you set off on a goose chase that could get you killed. Especially when you won’t tell me who pointed you in that direction. Makes me think you’re being set up.” With a tip of his hat, he started toward a table of raucous men, which included Ratter.
“Gabion,” Gemma said.
Fife turned. “Excuse me?”
“What?” she said, catching my look. “He didn’t say anything about not telling.”
Because Gabion hadn’t had time to say much at all, but it had been obvious that he didn’t want to be caught talking to us.
“What makes you think Gabion knows anything about anything?” Fife asked me.
“It’s the only lead I’ve got.”
“Which is no lead if it’s a trap,” Gemma said. “He tried to knock you senseless out on that raft. Didn’t pull a single punch. And now he wants to help you?”
“Smart girl,” Fife said. “And I’ll tell you why she’s right to be suspicious. You just bumped him off the best-paying gig he’ll ever have. The man can’t talk. Can’t read or write. The surf boxing circuit was his only shot at earning real money and you, a boy—a settler—humiliated him. I’m sure he’s looking for payback.”
“He didn’t seem vindictive,” I said.
“Because he’s trying to lure you someplace dangerous so he can punch you to a bloody pulp,” Gemma said as if it was obvious.
“Or worse,” Fife added pleasantly.
A chill passed over my heart. Laid out like that, their suspicions made far more sense than Gabion taking a friendly interest in my problems.
“Sorry, son. But you’re not going to get the coordinates to Hardluck Ruins from me. I don’t dabble in assisted suicide.”
My hopes collapsed as he strolled off. Who else would know where to find the surfs’ black market? No settler, that was for sure. And if Captain Revas knew, she was even less likely to tell me than Fife was.
Gemma met my eyes, but I couldn’t read her expression. “What?”
In answer, she opened her hand to reveal a key.
I inhaled sharply. “You picked Mayor Fife’s pocket.” Really, I shouldn’t have been surprised. I’d seen her perform that trick before.
“If we don’t help Shade escape, the Seablite Gang will come after you.”
I suspected that wasn’t the real reason she wanted her brother free, but didn’t say so.
“And besides,” she went on, “he might
be able to tell us where Hardluck Ruins is.”
After her dramatic warning about Gabion, I couldn’t believe she wanted to find the place.
Seeing my skepticism, she sighed. “It’s the only lead we have.”
“Why would Shade know anything about Hardluck Ruins? He’s not a surf.”
“When his gang was robbing supply ships, they had to sell the goods somewhere. Like maybe a black market …”
I nodded. That made sense.
“But we can’t just ask him for directions,” she said firmly. “He has to promise to come along as your bodyguard.”
I had to admit, Shade’s protection would be no small thing. I could have kissed her for being so smart. Well, and for other reasons. But I forced myself to focus on the problem ahead of us—breaking Shade out of jail.
“Okay, I’m in.”
As I hurried down the stairs, I scanned each deck, wondering how we should get off Rip Tide. The cable car was out—at least for Shade. By freeing him, I knew I was officially throwing my lot in with outlaws. But he was the only person who might be able to help me get to Hardluck Ruins. And even that wasn’t guaranteed.
As I stepped onto deck three, I heard, “Hey, kid!” and turned to see Captain Revas striding toward me. “What are you still doing here?”
Before I could stammer through some lame excuse, a trooper called to her.
“Captain, we’re all boarded.” He stood by a grappling hook that hung over the wall.
“Go,” Revas told him. “I’m right behind you.”
I was surprised to see the trooper drop over the side of the wall and disappear. I crossed and peered over in time to see him shinny down a rope and into the hatch of a massive Seaguard sub.
“Where are you going?” I faced Revas.
“Following a lead.”
I couldn’t help but wonder if Gabion had told her to head to Hardluck Ruins as well. But considering Gabion’s obvious avoidance of the captain earlier, I decided it was unlikely.
“About my parents?”
Her look was as clear as if she’d said, “You know better than to ask” aloud.
“There’s a lot I can’t tell you, Ty, but I do want to make sure you understand why I couldn’t let Fife name you the winner today.”
I shrugged like it didn’t matter, though truth was, I was still simmering over it. I had won, fair and square. Something as trifling as my age shouldn’t factor in.
“I couldn’t let it slide, exploiting a kid. Not even once,” she said. “Because then a scumbag like Fife will think he can get away with it.” She paused, then added, “And maybe the next boy wouldn’t be so lucky out on that raft.”
I clenched my jaw to keep from pointing out that the next boy was nothing more than a theory, while the danger my parents faced was real. Not that she cared.
“But if the law cracks down every time,” she went on, “then the scumbags know that it’s not worth it to even try.”
“Sure. I understand,” I replied stiffly.
“Go home,” she said again, though with less vehemence than before. “You have my word that I’m doing all I can for your parents.” Then she swung her legs over the wall and shinnied down the rope to the sub waiting below.
I unclenched my hands, surprised at just how clammy they were.
Without a second to spare, I crept down the last two stairwells and into cold water that came up to my chest. How I wished I had on my diveskin. But at least I’d talked Gemma into letting me come down to the jail. She thought Shade would be more likely to say yes to her, while I’d argued that I could navigate in the dark and she would be better at stalling a guard on his way down. Now that I knew the light down here wasn’t just dim, it was nonexistent, I was glad she’d given in. Besides, if Shade wanted out of his cell, he’d strike a deal with any stiff who held the key.
The farther in I went, the creepier it got. Without my Dark Gift, I would have been lost, to say nothing of jumpy, between the maze of pipe-lined passages and all the hissing, rumbling, and clanking. Clearly this was the mechanicals level.
Navigating the darkness with sonar, I picked the narrow corridor that headed toward the exterior wall for no good reason other than that it led away from the deafening bangs. I considered swimming rather than walking, but the water was slick with oil and scum. Nothing I wanted to put my face in.
When I turned a corner, steam blasted out of a pipe and sent me slamming into a wall, which hurt more than it should have. Stepping away, I ran my hand over the corrugated metal and discovered that it was crusted with barnacles—as sharp as barracuda teeth. If Rip Tide’s prison housed any permanent residents, I pitied them. No one—no matter what he’d done—deserved to be stuck in this wet, dark, deafening nightmare of a jail.
I paused at a cross section of passages, wondering which way to turn and whether shouting for Shade was a stupid thing to do during a prison break. Probably. But I didn’t know how long Gemma would be able to keep a guard from coming down—especially if Fife discovered the key was missing. And throwing sonar clicks down the passageways revealed nothing except sloshing water and hard walls.
Then I became aware of another noise under the mechanical din. A thumping sound. Irregular. Punctuated with a metallic rattle. Like someone shaking a sheet of aluminum siding … or a cage.
Following the banging, I slogged through the flooded halls until I reached the exterior wall. Visibility was better in this section thanks to the moon, which gleamed off the metal stalls that lined the corridor. The jail looked hastily constructed. Especially the grating that covered the gap between the deck’s exterior half wall and the ceiling. Not that an inmate could punch through the metal grille, but given unlimited time and the will to escape, eventually the bolts that held it in place could be worked out of the steel girders.
Now that I was in the correct area, the irregular thuds were louder and the rattling more alarming. I sloshed through the shadows, past empty stalls, toward the noise, which had become so ferocious, so crazed, my nerves were up and stretching. Who or what could be making such a racket?
A minute later, I spotted the answer: A huge bull shark was battering the grille above the half wall. With its broad head just under the water and both large and small dorsal fins exposed, the beast pounded and ripped at the metal grate. All while Shade lounged on his bunk with seawater lapping at his chest and his skin glowing so brightly he lit up the room.
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
I gaped at the scene inside the jail cell. The thin metal grille buckled under the bull shark’s ramming. But Shade didn’t look like he cared one whit that the crazed beast was moments away from breaking through.
“Knew you’d be the one to fetch me.” He grinned. “Bet the boys weren’t too happy with you.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off the shark, which had torn up its own snout as much as the grate. Though only about ten feet long, the animal was heavily built and aggressive as all get out.
“He got a whiff of my bloody leg and came knocking,” Shade said.
I looked back at the outlaw who was sitting in the flooded cell, relaxed and luminous. No shine could give him skin that radiant. But his Dark Gift could. “I want to make a deal,” I told him.
“I’m listening.”
But with one loud metallic crack, the thrashing shark had my attention again.
“I’m letting him do all the work,” Shade explained. “Cutting me a way out.”
“And what happens when it breaks through?”
“Things will get interesting.” Lifting his fist above the water, he uncurled his fingers to show me a piece of sharpened metal. Probably taken from the bed frame. “Unless you got a better offer.”
I held up the key, and his smile widened.
“Like I said, I’m listening.”
Another crash from the shark changed my plan. I felt for the keyhole under the water and then jammed the key into the lock, turning it as fast as possible. Just as I yanked open the
door, the shark bashed its snout through the grille and worked its snapping jaws into the stall.
Shade rose. “Thought you wanted to make a deal?”
“Just get out of there!”
“If you insist.” He waded past the frenzied shark, with its head wedged through the hole, and out of the stall like he hadn’t a care in the world.
I slammed the door shut and relocked it.
“You’re not real good at negotiation, are you? ’Cause I don’t see what you’re getting out of this deal. Unless you wanted to turn outlaw.”
“We’re still in negotiation. Otherwise, I’ll head upstairs and tell Mayor Fife that you’re free. Maybe you’ll get away in the Specter in time, maybe not.”
“Can’t tell anyone anything if I kill you.” He crossed his arms and leaned against a wall. His expression was dead serious.
I wished I could call his bluff, remind him about giving Gemma a home. But a small part of me wasn’t convinced that he was bluffing. Or that his sense of gratitude would win over his desire for freedom. Just then the shark burst through the grille, leaving a gaping hole, and plowed into the flimsy stall.
“I need a ride to Hardluck Ruins,” I said quickly, not sure which alarmed me more—the bull shark or the outlaw. All I wanted was to get out of there.
“Could have just asked,” Shade said in a lighter tone.
“I need to go to the Ruins tomorrow and I want you to come in case Gabion is planning to kill me.”
“Heard you won today.”
I noted that Gabion wanting to murder me didn’t surprise him. In fact, he took it a little too much in stride. As if fearing for my life was the natural consequence of winning a boxing match. “Does that mean you’ll do it?”
“I’ll let you know when I feel inconvenienced.”