Rhodoreef

26. The Royal Guard

Dea traversed the vast blue, darkened under the weeping skies. Thunder boomed, reflecting her inner state.

It dawned on her that she would have to weather Gramma's wrath upon arrival. The twenty-four-hour permit had also expired, which meant that she was in trouble with the authorities. It would have scared her in normal circumstances, but now, the repercussions that awaited her elicited no emotion—except guilt.

Guilt bloomed within—not just due to the danger her reckless actions spelled for her city-state, but also for putting Gramma through wanton worry.

Then her brain went off at a tangent, evoking the encounter with Anuk and what he had told her. The horrors and the loss of Burpy throbbed dangerously close to dominating her head. She inhaled a shuddering breath. Please no, no, no.

Drained to the core, she hugged the travel pillow tighter.

Other than the relentless turmoil within, the journey itself was uneventful. Dea slowly straightened up when the Angler neared the coral atoll. Her heavy eyes took note of various oceanmarks she passed just the day before.

As she skimmed over the brown sediment on a stretch of seafloor, Dilip invaded her head. His signature smile broadened, and her skin crawled. Hate oozed and bubbled—a pestilence that swept across her mindscape, making everything wilt in its wake.

Her fists balled, knuckles taut against the seat. They had to stop the humans plundering the seas, but the sheer scale of such an operation was beyond Calliathron's power. It was unlikely even with the combined might of other city-states—given that they could unite and form a confederation against this common threat. It could very well end up in a planet-wide war between land and sea that could devastate Earth.

The impossible odds weighed down, and Dea rubbed her temples. The headache battered away with renewed intensity. One problem at a time...

The Little Angler glided on towards the main channel that led into Karmant, and her idle eyes fixed on cargo vehicles converging in the distance. She found herself dwelling on the captured merpeople. Did they venture into land the way I did? Her stomach twisted, and the resolve to warn the city hardened like volcanic glass.

Dea extracted the ogi and tried to recall snippets of dialogue that might indicate where the facility was located. Tattoo Guy spoke of a boat, so it must be accessible by sea. Maybe it's an island.

She was so engrossed in it that she didn't notice the incoming vehicles.

Three motorpods whooshed towards her in the bright blue waters. When Dea's eyes ticked up, they surrounded the submersible, setting off the proximity sensors. The Angler decelerated to an abrupt halt.

She stared at the officers atop the hovering pods, their helmets and face shields gleaming with animated reflections.

"Miss, you'll be coming with us," one officer said in mechanical tones while his comms system beeped.

"Am I under arrest?" Dea asked, eyes flitting from one to the other.

"Follow me." He turned the motorpod around in a parabola, issuing a plume of bubbles.

Dea's hand closed over the joystick, a weary calm settling over her. The numb phase was welcoming—it was akin to circulation being cut off, rendering her immune to pain and fear.

The Angler trailed behind the lead vehicle, while the other two pods hemmed her in on both sides.

"Copy that," the merwoman to the right said into a communicator. "We're on our way."

Upon reaching the channel, the police guided her to the bottommost roadway reserved for express entry, which bypassed traffic and customs.

Dea maneuvered the craft along the line that marked the way, while cargo vehicles and delivery pods inched along on lanes above. She absent-mindedly tracked the buoyant road studs attached to the line, their microalgae cores glowing a faint green.