along,” he shouted.
She drew away and eyed him with a smirk. Then her long fingers circled the back of his neck, and she pulled him close again so she could speak in his ear. “What would you do with the coordinates, Nick? Let your bit-brain send his guards?”
Dominic jerked away from her, angry that she’d already guessed his intentions. “Whose side are you on?” he said. His throat felt raw from shouting, and the roar made his head ache. He yelled, “This situation is destabilizing the markets, and we’re here to shut it down. Am I right or wrong? Tell me now.”
She shook her head and put her mouth to his ear again. “How close are we to the ship’s boil line? I don’t want those current mills to suck us in.”
Dominic glanced at the water. Their raft was drifting a good hundred meters from the factory’s booming wake, safe for now. He shouted, “You’re changing the subject.”
He felt a sharp tug at the back of his waistband. The naked boy was standing beside him, balancing on the raft’s edge and pointing into the water. Beneath them, the ocean suddenly lifted in a mighty swell, and Dominic grabbed the boy to keep him from falling overboard. All around, water welled up and doused them with filthy spray as a decrepit metal sphere popped up beside their raft like a toy balloon. It was a bathysphere, old and dented, a submersible shuttle craft of the type used for short runs to and from an undersea facility. Dominic saw plainly where the Benthica logo had been scraped off.
“Our taxi has arrived,” Qi shouted over the roar. “Benito, help your grandmother.”
The boy squirmed out of Dominic’s arms and scampered over the barrels.
“This is what we’ve been waiting for, Nick.” Qi indicated the bathysphere with a nod, as a man with a sunburned face and short, hairy arms emerged from the hatch and lowered a ladder to the waterline. In one of the other boats, two women started paddling toward him with their hands.
Qi leaned against Dominic and draped an arm over his shoulder. He could feel her thigh rubbing his. She touched her mouth to his ear. “Since you ask, I don’t know the Pressure’s position. I only know this rendezvous point. From here on, we’re entering unknown territory.” She took Dominic’s hand and laced her long, dark, graceful fingers through his short, thick, pink ones. “I can’t tell you what to expect, Nick. My bit-brain master limits my info. Trust me. We’re going to need each other.”
Dominic smiled grimly, recalling the NP had used those very words. He would have said something sarcastic, but he was tired of straining his throat. So he turned away and watched the little boy, Benito, help his grandmother to crawl over the barrels.
One by one, the tattered fleet of boats transferred their passengers to the bathysphere. The pilot shuttled eight full loads of people down below the gray waves before Dominic’s turn came. Without his wrist node, it was hard to measure time in the perpetual Arctic day. Usually he stayed live-linked to the Ark and got market news every ninety seconds. Now he wasn’t even sure of the date. He tried to time the first shuttle run by counting seconds, but he was bone weary, and the factory ship’s racket numbed his senses.
He spread his short fingers and checked for skin rash, the first symptom of toxic exposure. Nothing yet. Then he lay on his back and gazed at the clotted smog. Was the NP watching? Even metavision had limits. Without that transponder in his hip beaming up his identification, he’d be just one more heat signature lost in the infrared blur of this factory ship. He squeezed his eyes shut. Never had he felt so cut off in his life.
He awoke with Benito sitting on his chest. When he moved, the boy grunted and dove into the water. The grandmother was already climbing the bathysphere’s ladder a couple of meters away. More boats had joined the little fleet—over fifty vessels. And the northern horizon glowed liverish
She drew away and eyed him with a smirk. Then her long fingers circled the back of his neck, and she pulled him close again so she could speak in his ear. “What would you do with the coordinates, Nick? Let your bit-brain send his guards?”
Dominic jerked away from her, angry that she’d already guessed his intentions. “Whose side are you on?” he said. His throat felt raw from shouting, and the roar made his head ache. He yelled, “This situation is destabilizing the markets, and we’re here to shut it down. Am I right or wrong? Tell me now.”
She shook her head and put her mouth to his ear again. “How close are we to the ship’s boil line? I don’t want those current mills to suck us in.”
Dominic glanced at the water. Their raft was drifting a good hundred meters from the factory’s booming wake, safe for now. He shouted, “You’re changing the subject.”
He felt a sharp tug at the back of his waistband. The naked boy was standing beside him, balancing on the raft’s edge and pointing into the water. Beneath them, the ocean suddenly lifted in a mighty swell, and Dominic grabbed the boy to keep him from falling overboard. All around, water welled up and doused them with filthy spray as a decrepit metal sphere popped up beside their raft like a toy balloon. It was a bathysphere, old and dented, a submersible shuttle craft of the type used for short runs to and from an undersea facility. Dominic saw plainly where the Benthica logo had been scraped off.
“Our taxi has arrived,” Qi shouted over the roar. “Benito, help your grandmother.”
The boy squirmed out of Dominic’s arms and scampered over the barrels.
“This is what we’ve been waiting for, Nick.” Qi indicated the bathysphere with a nod, as a man with a sunburned face and short, hairy arms emerged from the hatch and lowered a ladder to the waterline. In one of the other boats, two women started paddling toward him with their hands.
Qi leaned against Dominic and draped an arm over his shoulder. He could feel her thigh rubbing his. She touched her mouth to his ear. “Since you ask, I don’t know the Pressure’s position. I only know this rendezvous point. From here on, we’re entering unknown territory.” She took Dominic’s hand and laced her long, dark, graceful fingers through his short, thick, pink ones. “I can’t tell you what to expect, Nick. My bit-brain master limits my info. Trust me. We’re going to need each other.”
Dominic smiled grimly, recalling the NP had used those very words. He would have said something sarcastic, but he was tired of straining his throat. So he turned away and watched the little boy, Benito, help his grandmother to crawl over the barrels.
One by one, the tattered fleet of boats transferred their passengers to the bathysphere. The pilot shuttled eight full loads of people down below the gray waves before Dominic’s turn came. Without his wrist node, it was hard to measure time in the perpetual Arctic day. Usually he stayed live-linked to the Ark and got market news every ninety seconds. Now he wasn’t even sure of the date. He tried to time the first shuttle run by counting seconds, but he was bone weary, and the factory ship’s racket numbed his senses.
He spread his short fingers and checked for skin rash, the first symptom of toxic exposure. Nothing yet. Then he lay on his back and gazed at the clotted smog. Was the NP watching? Even metavision had limits. Without that transponder in his hip beaming up his identification, he’d be just one more heat signature lost in the infrared blur of this factory ship. He squeezed his eyes shut. Never had he felt so cut off in his life.
He awoke with Benito sitting on his chest. When he moved, the boy grunted and dove into the water. The grandmother was already climbing the bathysphere’s ladder a couple of meters away. More boats had joined the little fleet—over fifty vessels. And the northern horizon glowed liverish
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