Horizon (14 page)

“Best not tell your friend Aluna,” his mother said. “We trust her, of course, but her father . . .” She raised an eyebrow. “He’s no friend to the sand-siders.”

Hoku nodded. Of course he could tell Aluna. She’d never betray his family to her father. But his parents didn’t know that, and he didn’t want them to worry. “Grandma Nani may not have died the way she wanted, but she’d be happy that she turned you both into lawbreakers on her way out. I guess I’m one now, too.”

“These are dark times, son,” his father said. “I hope you understand why we have to do this.”

“I do,” Hoku replied.

He let his parents feed him clams and mussels and tell him about their lives since he left. His mother patched a hole in his shirt. Eventually, he told them about his travels, too. Not everything — they were his parents, after all, and he didn’t want to scare them with how close he’d repeatedly come to dying. But he told them enough . . . and probably too much about Calli. Maybe someday he’d figure out a way for them to meet her.

“From what you’ve told us,” his mother said, “we’ve got even more to worry about than drowning, with this Karl Strand person trying to take over the world.”

“Aluna and I came here to talk to the Elders,” Hoku said. “Maybe when they know what happened in the desert and at HydroTek and about the war, they’ll start to see. We have to try.”

His mother handed him another mussel. “Yes, try. But don’t be too disappointed if it doesn’t work, little one. You’ve seen a world far greater than your years, but to the Elders and most of the moon-siders, the world down here still looks very much the same.”

Hoku looked around the room. “No, it doesn’t. There’s no Grandma Nani.”

His father reached out and took his hand, pulled him into the cramped hallway and toward the front of the nest. One of the curved walls in the gathering room was pitted with tiny cubbyholes. In each one was a single, crudely carved figurine. His family’s ancestor wall.

A new statue sat in a center cubby, its body and tail hewed from dark stone.

“Grandma Nani,” Hoku said. He gently touched the statue’s head.

“We’ll throw her another feast tonight,” his mother said. “In honor of your return, and for her. She’d be so happy that we’re all together again.”

No, she wouldn’t
, Hoku thought. Not while Karl Strand is still out there.

“I . . . want that,” Hoku said. “I want that very much. But I’ve got to go find Elder Peleke. I’m the city’s best chance for finding a way to recharge the necklaces. I shouldn’t have stayed as long as I did.” He wondered if any Kampii had been forced to flee for the surface while he’d been enjoying his reunion with his parents. He couldn’t bear the thought.

“Of course,” his mother said. “We’ll save you some clams.”

He didn’t recognize his mother’s tone at first, and then suddenly he did. Patronizing. She didn’t believe he could do anything about the necklaces. Then again, why should she? He’d been barely tinkering with tech before he’d left for the Above World. Even so, her doubt stung like a scorpion. He barely managed to mumble a good-bye and escape out into the city before he let her see exactly how much.

He found Elder Peleke hunched over a workbench in the main research dome, his tail wrapped around a worn resting stick. Jars of doodads, spools of wire, and heavy, well-worn tools dangled from the desk.

Hoku used to sneak into the dome and stare in wonder at such a glorious array, but now that he’d been to Skyfeather’s Landing and trained in Rollin’s cluttered tent, Elder Peleke’s tools seemed as simplistic as a youngling’s toys. This was not the place for serious technological creation or discovery.

Hoku had last seen Elder Peleke less than a year ago, but in that time the man seemed to have aged ten years and shrunk ten centimeters. Peleke bent over his work, cleaning a tiny device with an even tinier tool. “You’re late with my dinner,” he snapped. “Bring it here and get out.”

Ah, now, there was the Elder Peleke that Hoku remembered.

“I don’t have your dinner and I’m not one of your apprentices,” Hoku said quietly.

Peleke’s head whipped around. He studied Hoku through a deep squint. “No, you aren’t. Weren’t smart enough to be an apprentice, if I remember rightly.”

Even in the cold water, Hoku felt his cheeks burn. He mumbled, “Not connected enough, you mean.”

“What was that?”

Hoku lifted his chin. “I came here to talk to you about the breathing devices. I have ideas about how to recharge their batteries and —”

“I hardly think I need ideas from a youngling.” Elder Peleke snorted. “Go run off with that troublemaker friend of yours and play your silly games. I have real work to do.”

Hoku swam closer, trying to get a glimpse of what Peleke was working on. Strangely, medical equipment littered the table — scalpels and sponges and something large enough to be . . .

. . . a head.

His stomach twisted and churned. He wanted to flee the dome and Peleke and find something cute to stare at for a few hours. But he didn’t. He stayed.

The object was definitely a head, severed low on the neck. Hoku recognized the gray smooth skin, the wide black eyes, and the gills. The name escaped before he could stop it.

“Deepfell.”

A
LUNA SLOWED
as she neared her family’s nest. Maybe she could turn back now and return to the surface colony. Daphine and Anadar were all the family she needed.

Yet her tail propelled her forward, through the familiar maze of coral, past the openings to her neighbors’ moon-side nests. Her body knew the way and she let it take her. Is this how dolphins felt when they were migrating? That they were the prisoners of their own instincts?

She’d thought there would be time to swim through the nest, to remind herself of her old life and prepare for the inevitable reunions. But when she entered the dining area, she ran smack into Pilipo, Ehu, and her father having dinner.

They were huge, even bigger than she remembered. Her brothers cried out. She felt their massive arms wrap around her and squeeze her gently. Ehu twirled her in the water and laughed.

Aluna had never spent much time with either of them, but her heart warmed anyway. Pilipo with his gorgeous dark hair curling around his rugged face. Ehu with his jutting cheekbones and dark-brown eyes that made the girls swoon. They both seemed older now, like real Kampii adults. She saw new scars on their faces, arms, and tails. Scars that marked their prowess and experience, that made them even more desirable matches in the colony.

“Good to have you back, little sister,” Ehu said. “Daphine abandoned us and Pilipo can’t even prepare mussels without mangling them.”

Aluna bit back a retort.

“Glad you’re home,” Pilipo said. “The nest feels colder without you and Daphine. I’m tired of Ehu’s incessant talking about his love life. Listening to him is your job now!”

Aluna frowned. “Well, I’m not sure how long —”

“Pilipo. Ehu. Leave us,” her father said.

Kapono had been waiting motionless on his resting stick in the far corner of the room, and Aluna had been doing her best to forget he was there. Maybe if she ignored him completely, they could continue living in separate worlds, the way they did before she left home.

Ehu nudged her in the ribs. “Let him get it all out, Aluna. He’s been bottling it up for months. It’ll be better after that — you know how it goes.” Then Ehu and Pilipo swam out, taking most of the mussels with them.

Aluna looked up at the dark, seething person in the back of the room. At her father.

“You have a tail. That means you stole the Ocean Seed and used it, against the express orders of the council of Elders, and against
my
wishes.” His voice was low, gravelly, dangerous. She hated the way it sounded in her ears, as if he were too close.

“It’s nice to see you again, too,” she said. Aluna could feel her defenses building, layer after layer, like the thickest armor imaginable. She hadn’t needed the armor in months, but she remembered how to wear it. “Glad to see you’re still focusing on me, your disappointing daughter, instead of trying to find a way to save our people.”

“We are nothing without our traditions, and we are no more than barbarians if we ignore the rules of our society,” he said. “You disgrace us all.”

“I don’t mind being a disgrace if I’m saving lives at the same time,” she retorted. She felt the anger surge inside her. No one could trigger it as quickly as her father.

“Your time in the Above World hasn’t changed you, I see,” he said. “Still the same selfish girl who left here without even telling her family where she was going.”

Oh, don’t pretend you were hurt
, she thought. “You knew where I was going. Or you would have, if you’d been listening to me at all. I was right about Makina’s necklace — about the necklaces failing in general. I was right about going to the Above World.”

Her father unwound his tail from the resting stick and seemed to grow a meter taller as he swam closer. Sharks had the same dark eyes as he did, but she preferred their lifeless cruelty to her father’s intelligent, thoughtful disdain.

“We would have found a solution from here, without risking the colony,” he said. “You brought the Above World down on us. You put everyone in the entire city in danger.”

“What about the surface colony?” she asked. “Your own son and daughter are up there right now, exposed and in danger. Is this how the Elders’ plan was supposed to work?” She tried to make herself taller, bigger, more imposing. She’d never have Pilipo’s size, but she’d definitely grown in the last few months.

“Daphine and Anadar would be here, safe, if they’d listened to me,” Kapono said. “I will protect this family with my last breath.” His mouth twisted into an unfriendly smile. “I will even protect you, should you ever let me.”

She could see the rage swirling through him, begging for release. His fists clenched, his jaw twitched. He’d been angry as long as she could remember. Had it started when his wife died, or had it always been there, even a million years ago when he’d been young? Some days it seemed like fury alone propelled him.

Aluna understood anger; she’d let it rule her, too. But rage was demanding. Greedy. Overpowering. It left no room for other emotions like happiness or joy. Like love.

Karl Strand had a son once. Tomias. He’d gone insane when his son died, after Sarah Jennings left him. He’d figured out how to live forever so that if he ever had another child, they wouldn’t know death. Strand had even sent his army to HydroTek to rescue Fathom.

Somehow Karl Strand managed to love his children, and yet Aluna’s own father couldn’t find a way to love her. The realization should have made her angry all over again, but it didn’t. It made her sad.

Well, if she couldn’t reach him as a daughter, maybe she could reach him as a Kampii citizen.

“Elder Kapono . . . ” She winced at how awkward it sounded, but kept going. “I’ve seen a lot of things. I traveled to the mountains and the desert. I’ve been to the dome that used to power our breathing shells. Please . . . won’t you just listen to me?”

Her father stared at her with hard eyes. After what felt like hours, they softened slightly. He swam slowly back to his seat and wound his tail around his resting stick.

“Speak.”

A surge of hope washed through her body, but she knew better than to smile. Instead, she found a resting stick of her own and began to talk. She told him everything that happened after she left the city — her encounters with the Deepfell, the Aviars, the Upgraders, the Equians, the Serpenti, the Thunder Trials. A friend would have stopped her, asked questions, offered hugs. He did nothing but sit and listen.

It felt like the biggest victory she’d ever won.

And then her stomach grumbled. She clutched it and offered an embarrassed smile. “Guess I forgot to eat.”

“Stay,” her father said. He swam into the food preparation area and came back a moment later with a net of mixed delicacies: mussels, clams, shrimp, and crab. Far more than she could eat in two days, let alone one meal.

“Thank you,” she said, and took the offering. She’d never tasted anything as good as that first crunchy bite of shrimp. It reminded her of scorpion, but sweeter.

Her father studied her while she ate. If she hadn’t been so hungry, it would have made her nervous. He used to do that when Aluna was a youngling, just float in the shadows and watch Daphine crack open Aluna’s mussels for her, or pretend not to pay attention while Daphine braided her short hair. Daughters had always confounded him. Apparently they still did.

When she’d polished off the last of the shrimp and started on the crab, her father spoke. “I appreciate your telling me of the Above World,” he said. “It is . . . useful . . . to know what is happening to our breathing necklaces.” His tail swished. “However, I do not think a war with Strand is in the best interests of the colony at this time. We must see to the protection of our own people first. Elder Peleke has devised a solution to our breathing-shell problem, and we don’t need to break our vow of isolation in order to accomplish it.”

“A solution?” Aluna said. “What solution?”