Swimming Without a Net (14 page)

“They’re after me, Thomas, they’re after me!”

“Fred, calm down.” Thomas handed her a towel, and a robe. He waved at the Undersea Folk who were still milling around outside the URV. “Long day, huh?”

“You have
no
idea. I went from being totally ignored to totally harassed.” She shrugged into the robe and toweled her hair dry. “God, and the voices! You just can’t get them out of your head, no matter how hard you try.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d be prescribing you some tranqs right now.”

“I could use some, believe me.” She slumped against the galley counter. “Got any booze in this thing?”

“That bad, huh?”

“It’s just—that’s a lot of people to have in your head, you know?” She looked out the window. “I’m used to having my brain to myself.”

“Does it hurt? The telepathy?”

“Huh?” She jerked her attention back to Thomas, who handed her a beer. “Oh. No. No, it doesn’t hurt at all. It’s just overwhelming. Sometimes. Tell you what, I can see why exile is such a big deal to these people. If you grow up used to hearing all those voices…and then all of a sudden you’re all alone…My father must have hated it.”

“Your father sounds like a shitheel who had it coming,” he said cheerfully.

“Well, yeah.” She sipped her beer. “Boy, it’s nice in here! Nice and quiet.”

“Ah, my sinister scheme to get you alone has succeeded beyond my wildest dreams.”

“Are you talking to me, or plotting your next romance novel?”

“Both,” he said, and then kissed her spang on the mouth.

“Perv.”

“Beer breath.”

This time she kissed him, letting the towel drop from her hair as she put her arms around him, pressing against him as his arms came around her. She ran her fingers through his thick dark hair and stroked his teeth with the tip of her tongue.

“This is—what I’d call—a mixed signal,” he gasped, coming up for air. “Usually now’s the time you sock me in the eye.”

“I’m really tired, though.”

“Too tired to try out the bed?”

She laughed as he squeezed her to him. “I’m having an off moment as a result of a brain full of voices not my own, but I haven’t taken total leave of my senses.”

“Shit.”

“Don’t sulk,” she teased. “You’re hardly cute when you do that.”

“Looking cute is the least of my problems,” he growled, carefully setting her aside. “And stop doing that to my hair, it makes me feel like ripping that robe right off you.”

“I see I’m not the only one under stress.”

He went to a board of instruments, glanced at them without really seeing them, and closed the tiny door to the fridge which, in his distraction, he’d forgotten to do before.

“Not stress, exactly, but for a while there it looked kind of tense. As strong as you guys are, I’d hate to see you come to blows. Over anything.”

“And they’re even stronger than I am. No, nobody’s coming to blows. But it’s a charged issue, that’s for damned sure. And I took the easy way out: I didn’t pick a side.”

“Yeah?”

She sighed and looked at her feet. “Yeah. Laid it out for them, pro and con, but didn’t actually pick a side.”

“Then came in here to hide.”

“Pretty much, yeah. Dr. Barb’s waiting for me on land, and those guys are all waiting for me the minute I swim out of here.”

“Well, the URV’s yours whenever you want it. I’m glad it’s making a nice hidey-hole for you.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “You wouldn’t be calling me a chickenshit, would you, Doctor?”

“Not to your face,” he replied, then laughed. “It wouldn’t—uh-oh.”

“What?”

She heard the click, and then the cycling of the air pump. “Great,” she grumbled. “What now?”

She hit the button, and the door slid open to reveal, naturally, Jonas and Dr. Barb.

His scalp still sizzling from the glare Fred had given
him as she and Thomas had left the URV, Jonas led Dr. Barb the few feet to the bedroom. Worth it, worth Fred’s ire (which, frankly, he brought on himself at least twice a week) and then some, because he’d been positively—

“I’ve been
dying
to try this place out,” he confided, while his lover looked around the small underwater RV, exclaiming and staring and, he could tell, wishing she’d brought her BlackBerry. “You know, the bedroom?”

“This thing is a wonder of design!” the scientist said, momentarily elbowing the lover out of the picture. “It must have cost your friend a fortune!”

“Yeah, well, he’s loaded and he can spare it, now check out this bed.”

“And he’s been living in it?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Best not to get into the whole “No, just tools around during the Pelagic taking pictures” thing. “Barb, will you get your delectable ass over here?”

“And to think, it’s all contained in—yeeek! Jonas!” She giggled and slapped his hand away, but he stood his ground and, as he outweighed her by a good thirty pounds of muscle, was easily able to drag her toward the small bedroom.

“Jonas, you act like you’ve been denied…Now just let me get a closer look at the design…”

“I
am
being denied.” He started pulling on the straps of her swimsuit which, since they were wet, fought him like a live thing. “Right this second I’m being denied. Ack! What are you wearing, titanium?”

She laughed at him, brushed his hands away, then wriggled out of her suit with a few grunts, exposing much pink and cream flesh as she did so. Eventually (finally!), she was nude and holding out her arms. “There, Mr. Impatient, satisfied?”

“Not even close,” he growled, then picked her up and tossed her on the small bed. His trunks were much easier to get rid of, and then he pounced on her.

“I really should be studying this thing’s schematics,” she told him between kisses.

“What ‘thing’ are you referring to?”

“After a year, you don’t know?”

“Very funny.” He kissed her mouth, the slope of her neck, the tops of her creamy, cool breasts.

“Oooh, your mouth is nice and warm,” she groaned.

“I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too.” She shifted her weight, pushing her nipple farther into his mouth. “I’m glad you liked my surprise.”

He kissed, sucked, nibbled. “I loved your surprise. Adored it! It was the greatest surprise I ever got in my whole life!” He thought briefly of Fred and quailed, then banished the thought. The quickest way to lose his hard-on would be to think of his childhood friend—practically a sister to him!—in a murderous rage. “I loved seeing you, loved the surprise!”

“I just thought—since you were stuck down here—with all of Fred’s family—that you might like company.” Each time he kissed her she had to pause. “I know—you like—to help her—in social situations—”

“I could use help in a social situation right now.”

“Oh, yuck!”

They laughed together, as lovers will, and moved together, and kissed, and touched, and when he entered her she moved against him like a wave, and clung to him. And as her orgasm rippled through her she whispered in his ear, told him she loved him, told him he was for her and she was for him, whispered love, whispered, whispered.

Jonas groaned as the love of his life bounded off the
small bed, cleaned herself up in the smaller bathroom, then wriggled back into her swimsuit. He had just enough energy to roll over and take a nap.

“Why does sex energize you like this? My God, you’re acting like you had a Red Bull IV drip.”

“Physiology, my love.” Barb snapped her straps into place. “Now: your base needs have been taken care of, and nothing is going to stop me from examining this thing.”

Jonas groped for his trunks, found the pocket string, found the small hard object tied securely to the string. “Hey, Barb.”

“Jonas, I already told you—”

“Be my wife?”

“—that nothing—What?”

He yanked, but he’d done too thorough a job tying the engagement ring to his trunks. “I want to get married. I think…” Yank, yank. “…we should get…” Yank! “…married.”

Barb came over to the bed and after a final, futile yank, he presented her with his swim trunks. She did some sort of womanly thing and then the ring was free. “Oh, Jonas! It’s a pearl!”

“From the ocean,” he prompted the marine biologist.

“But—but you didn’t know I was going to be here!”

“Are you kidding? I’ve been walking around with that thing every minute of every day for three weeks.”

“For three weeks? Why did you—”

“Barb, is that a yes or a no?”

“What? Oh!” She slipped the ring on. “Yes, of course, yes.”

“Really?” His postcoital lassitude vanished; he’d hoped she was going to say yes, but hadn’t been one hundred percent sure. She had, after all, been married before. “You will?”

“Oh, sure, I’ve been waiting for you to ask.” She smiled down at the ring. “This isn’t going to make Dr. Bimm very happy.”

“Yeah, well—”

“Wait until she sees the pink bridesmaid gown I’m going to make her wear!”

Jonas gaped at his betrothed. “You…are…
evil
!”

“Yeah,” Dr. Barb said, and giggled.

All morning, Fred couldn’t shake the feeling that
something was hideously wrong. Something had happened, she was sure of it. Something that directly affected her in a negative way. Something repugnant and bloated, just off the horizon. Something waiting to eclipse her life.

She was so busy trying to figure it out, she barely paid attention to Pelagic testimony. And for hours she’d half-listened to Air Breathers elegantly savage Traditionals, and vice versa.

This was essentially a playback of the last three days, she figured. It was like any emotionally charged debate…abortion, politics, religion. You’ll never change the other person’s mind. Never.

And what was
wrong
? Why the feeling of foreboding? She felt like Custer…the day
after
the Indians landed.

About three hours later, after a Traditional stepped down, Mekkam stepped up.

I’ve just received word. Enough of our people have heard testimony; they wish to vote. In the tradition of the Pelagic, the royal family will abide by the vote, regardless of the outcome. As will we all. Voting will take place at once; I will let you know when we have a tally.

And that was that. Fred suddenly wished she’d been paying a bit more attention.

“So that’s it?”

“That’s it,” Fred said. She, Jonas, Thomas, Tennian, and Artur were eating in the small dining room. Tennian, she couldn’t help notice, had put away enough shrimp to repopulate two fisheries. “They’ll vote, and Mekkam will tell us who won.”

“Uh…don’t take this the wrong way, Artur…” Jonas began.

“I have noticed that when a biped says that, something offensive will invariably follow.”

“Well, maybe.” Jonas cleared his throat and put his fork down. “Anyway, Mekkam is the super telepath, right? It’s why he’s king?”

Tennian, Artur, and Fred nodded in unison.

“And everybody’s—what? Beaming their thoughts at him? Until enough of them vote?”

More nods.

“Well. Uh. You said he’s a Traditional. What’s to stop him from just
telling
you what the vote is? From telling you the Traditionals won?”

“You think of our king as you are used to thinking of your own leaders,” Artur said, mildly enough. Fred knew enough now about her father’s people to realize Artur was being quite self-restrained. Especially given that Jonas had just insulted the hell out of Artur’s dad. “But our king would not lie for his people. That would—ah—would—”

“Pervert,” Fred suggested.

“—pervert the whole system of the Pelagic.”

“Oh. Well, thanks for answering my question. I don’t know that I’d have that kind of self-control. I mean, if I really thought staying hidden would be best for my people, I’d be tempted to just tell them that’s how the vote went.”

“Well,” Artur said reasonably, “that is why you are not a king.”

“And thank God. I’ve got enough headaches keeping track of
one
mermaid, never mind eighty zillion of them.”

“Har, har,” Fred said sourly.

“How long until the returns come back, so to speak?” Thomas asked. He slid the bowl of shrimp cocktail closer to Tennian who, Fred noticed with rising nausea, was eating the tails, too. She tried to ignore the crunching. “Couple of days?”

“The last time the Pelagic voted, it took about a day. It all depends on how many of us vote.”

“Well, I’d think you all would!” Jonas cried. “It affects all of you, doesn’t it?”

“Do all of your countrymen vote in every election?” Artur asked.

“Yeah, good point, but you’re supposed to be better than us. You guys don’t have any Republicans, at least.”

“Oh, don’t even start,” Fred snapped.

“Well, did they wreck the country or didn’t they?”

“They absolutely did not.” Fred jabbed her butter knife in Jonas’s general direction. “If we left it up to you Dems, all the lifers would be out on the street and our taxes would be in the eightieth percentile.”

“Like you even know what paying taxes is…you’ve worked for nonprofits your whole life!”

“I pay taxes,” she said hotly.

“Yeah, for fun! The only reason you’re talking like this is because Moon and Sam are rich. It’s true,” he told Artur and Tennian. “Fred’s folks have more money than the Kennedys.”

“Who are the—”

“They do not! And shut up. And—oh, shit. Here comes Dr. Barb.” She checked; everybody had shorts on; Tennian was floating around in what she suspected was one of Thomas’s T-shirts. “Watch the mermaid talk, you guys. And Tennian, will you stop
crunching
?”

“But they’re so good,” she replied in a small, wounded voice.

“Hello!” Dr. Barb trilled. She stopped short of the table and looked at Jonas. “Did you tell her?”

Jonas shook his head. “I was waiting for you.”

“Tell me what?” Fred asked suspiciously, the feeling of foreboding back in the front of her brain.

Dr. Barb thrust her fist at Fred’s face; she ducked. Then realized…“That…looks like…an engagement ring.”

“Good work…Doctor…Bimm…”

“Oh, are you formalizing your mating?” Tennian asked, sneaking more shrimp onto her plate. “Congratulations.”

“No!” Fred screamed. “You can’t! Think of what it’ll do to my personal and professional life!”

“There was that,” Jonas admitted, “but aside from those benefits, we’re also in love.”

“Aw, fuck.” Fred slumped over her plate and hid her face. “By which I mean, congrats.”

“Thank you,” Dr. Barb said. To Jonas: “That went much better than I expected.”

“Believe it or not, Dr. Barb, I actually have bigger problems than this right now.”

“Family reunions can be stressful,” her boss said sympathetically.

There was a furtive crunch and Tennian looked guilty as Fred glared at her. “Tennian, please! Stop eating the tails!”

“You should not treat her so, when she does such a good job standing up for
you
. As, of course, do I,” Artur added without a trace of braggadocio.

Trying to stomp on her rising hysteria, Fred managed not to yell, “Well, I don’t need your help, or her help, or anybody’s help!”

“Oh, here we go,” Jonas said to his peas.

“No, it’s not the usual independent rant. It’s the ‘I deserve to be heard based on who I am, not who my father is’ rant. I can’t believe I actually had to
say
that. I’m not the one in the wrong; your people are! In fact, I—I—”

She stopped talking, startled.

“Fred?”

Why hadn’t she thought of it before?

“Fred?”

It was so simple! Why hadn’t any of
them
thought of it before?

“Fred!”

She grabbed Artur by the collar (for a wonder, he was wearing a shirt, too). “Quick! Where’s your dad?”