Never thought I’d die on a fishing boat. Don’t know why. Then again, never thought I’d be finding m’self fishin’ for Merithian sardines, either. Horrid things, make no mistake. An’ if you get ’em riled enough, their frenzied numbers can sink ships faster than wreckin’ on a reef.
I stare over the bow
The sea has its own language. The water breathes with its currents, exhales in swishes and clicks, spews forth moans and grunts. Sometimes the sounds coalesce into something recognizable, but just as quickly, it fades into unrelated background noise.
I listen anyway, wondering if this will be the tenth tongue I master
Pushing off the embankment, I crouch low in the hollow craft, hoping the reeds cover my retreat. I shift the bundle in my arms, all the while my heart thumps in my ears.
I’d built this boat with a single purpose. To escape. Taking something with me wasn’t part of the plan.
“Ready when you are, Cap’n Muldoon.”
My first mate O’Hara squints expectantly through his good eye, the other covered with a black patch. The crew of the Muirgen clusters behind him, waiting for my signal.
Our target, the whaling ship Pawtuxet, flounders on the choppy gray sea, her mast shattered by a well-placed
Ring. Ring. Ri—
“Hello?”
“Hello, this is the West Coast Marine Mammal Rescue. How can I help you?”
“Oh, thank goodness! I found this baby sea turtle caught in some netting on the beach. He got injured. I think he is rather hurt.”
“Thank you for calling us. You did the right thing.
The sun had risen, but the sea hadn’t noticed. I slid off my hydro-scooter into the kelp-filled ocean. “Yikes,” I bit out, every movement driving fresh stabs of ice across my limbs.
A dozen feet away, a round head bobbed above the surface. “Miki?” My sister’s sea otter swam closer. “I don’t need
Diving for corpses was not Belyan’s ideal profession, but someone had to do it. She shivered as cold, merciless currents swept past, dragging snarls of seaweed and chipped clamshells along with them.
Before her, two gleaming shapes curled through the water, light glowing from their sleek bodies. The presence of Ursu and Laur
1000 meters out.
The clipper cut smoothly, silently, through the water—leaving not a ripple on the surface. Inside its shabby cabin, the captain sat still and focused, his energies on maintaining course for the destination ahead. Although confident outside, his thoughts raced and tumbled with every crashing wave. He hesitated to approach
The fish revolted, and it was glorious. Bluetooth, mudfish, and desert trout swarmed the river and frothed its waters. Paddlesturges and red cripes leaped in the air and landed, flopping, upon my deck.
The mining bot at my stern sent me a warning.
E81921: PR05P3CT0R, dredge buckets are under attack.
But I already
I go to the beach to escape committing more murder.
I take in the ocean’s revitalizing air to think clearly. The salty waves sting the broken blisters on my feet. I dip my hands into the water, wishing I could wash the metaphorical blood from them, and the coldness sends shivers over my body.
What’s a spy’s greatest enemy? Ask any red-blubbered agent in Her Majesty’s Sea Critter Service and they’ll give you the same answer.
Stairs.
I sighed and looked down my glasses at the long flight of marble steps awaiting me. Bubbly Christmas music played in the background. The ballroom was alive with sea creatures mingling.
Read it now
The Main Event: Me versus Sea.
A fight to the finish—probably mine. My opponent is the ocean.
Water’s a liquid? Tell the riptide that. Solid as a giant’s fist, it hauls me farther out every second. To defeat me, the riptide doesn’t drag me under. It doesn’t have to.
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