Minnie’s head popped back, eyes fluttering as if someone had flicked water in her face. Her head spun toward the sea, eyes hunting, shoulders rotating, a hand brought up to block the sun, her gaze passing Aether by, a blink, and there was the look. Stunned. Comprehending. Searching again, and then… eye contact. There she was. Awed, her hands went to cover her mouth, abruptly blocked by her helmet and visor. She glanced down, confused, and then looked back up at Aether, laughing, knowing she’d seen the blunder.
The DC, my love…
Minnie shook out her face, put her hands on top of her helmet, and began pacing just as the DC acceptance toned in Aether’s ear, and an instant later, the first M.
MINNIE: No wrds
MINNIE: o.M
MINNIE: OMG
AETHER: Well hello, stranger.
MINNIE: GET THE EFF OVER HERE, YOU.
MINNIE: Before I swim out there. I swear I will.
AETHER: You made some new friends…
With a start, Minnie turned to the Hynka, squinted at the two afvrik, and then spoke to the three seemingly confused brutes. Aether watched and waited. First one, then the other two, looked out to the water, one lifting a meaty, two-fingered hand to block the sun as Minnie had. Their eyes found the floating things, chock full of strange people and foreign things, and their mouths moved, no doubt with many questions.
“Syons People!” someone suddenly shouted. Aether observed that one of the crew had lost interest in Heshper and the cream, and had spotted Minnie among the Hynka.
Others flooded back to the front.
“It’s with the Hynka!”
“They are friends!”
Heshper climbed onto the skimmer—only she felt so bold—and surveyed the scene on the beach.
“Syons People,” Heshper began, “talk to Hynka. Friends. This is why we mustn’t capture. Or…” Heshper took a frightened step backward. “Or have we been brought to Hynka? Syons People trade cream with Threck. What do Syons People trade with Hynka so they do not kill?”
“That’s nonsense,” Aether replied. “We’re just as surprised as you are that they didn’t kill our friend on sight. Just calm down, keep us right here, and wait for our friend to let us know when it’s safe.”
“We will not wait. The Thinkers and Council certainly knew nothing of these.”
“Yeah yeah yeah,” Aether murmured, sending Minnie a new M.
AETHER: We’ve got some jumpy Threck over here. You’re buddies going to scram or what? Tell me what we should do.
Heshper called, “Bring in the ropes and net!”
Aether and Pablo fell forward, catching themselves with the skimmer console. Heshper had her arms buried in the afvrik’s slits and was reversing away from land.
On shore, the two healthier Hynka helped the third, all three hobbling south, away from Minnie.
Aether pointed ashore. “See that? They’re running away! They want nothing to do with Syons People.”
MINNIE: All clear. My camp is inland. Tons of supplies. Or should I leave them? I honestly don’t care at this point.
AETHER: Where’s John? Ish?
Aether watched Minnie’s face turn grim, head turning with a slow no-nod.
MINNIE: It’s just me.
How… how… How could he be gone? Truly gone?
AETHER: Are you sure?
A stupid question. Of course she was sure.
Aether fought to maintain. Her face wanted nothing more than to shrivel and hide.
MINNIE: Yes. I’m so sorry.
She forced her eyes open. Focus on Minnie, alive, so close.
MINNIE: I have something to give you from him.
Poor Minnie. Poor John. Ish.
“Aether?” Pablo was freaked. Something was happening.
Someone grabbed Aether’s arm. A surge of tentacles converging.
What the hell?
Behind the M screen, a set of Livetrans.
“Throw them off! They wish to feed us to Hynka! Push them, quickly!”
In seconds, her legs were hauled out from under her, body raised in the air, and then hurled, crashing into the sea. Painfully cold water flooded into her unsealed visor, the weight of her suit and pack pulling her under. She slapped the visor shut, pressed it tight, and the inflow stopped. But the water level was already above her nose. It was like an icepack against the bottom half of her face. She hadn’t been able to snatch a full breath, and the impact had knocked out a fair amount.
A nudge of her leg. A knee to a glute. An arm around the waist. Her helmet breached the surface and she popped the visor open. Water flooded out as cold air sucked in, biting at her chilled face. She reoriented herself. Pablo was below the surface, kicking, holding her up, giving her time to clear her helmet. She leaned forward and let the reservoir below her chin pour out, then slapped the visor shut, confirmed seal, and reached down to tap Pablo’s shoulder. He eased her into the water, waited for her to take on her own weight, and then surfaced himself.
They struggled to keep afloat until Pablo remembered something. He turned to Aether, mouthed “Sorry,” and began pawing around her left breast. A few seconds later, a blast of air whooshed into floatation channels in Aether’s suit. Pablo’s suit swelled taut as well, and the pair looked to the retreating afvrik, Threck crewmembers coiling their limbs around the holds.
Pablo instinctively shouted a muffled “Wait!” then blasted the translation through his PA. “Wait! My thing! The sack!”
The afvrik began submerging, secured bins of gear descending with it, along with a not-so-secured skimmer. A sympathetic crewmember unwrapped from her hold, skittered to the pad, grabbed Pablo’s pack, and flung it into the water. She dashed back to her position through a hailstorm of gripes from Heshper.
Pablo swam toward the orange backpack as it began descending in sync with the afvrik. A meter away, the pack’s last visible strap dipped below. The afvrik dissolved into a pool of white froth, only the tops of bins, Threck heads, and the entire skimmer remained. Pablo speared one hand beneath the surface. The pack reemerged in his gloved hand and he slung it over his shoulders.
Through a fogged visor, Aether watched as all but their skimmer vanished. For a moment it looked as though the vehicle would float there, perfectly fine. Why had she worried? Didn’t she know they’d all been built to float?
Water drilled its way into the skimmer’s every orifice, filling the outer shell, and the heavier front end tilted forward, dunking under. The round white pad bobbed for a few fleeting seconds, then rapidly sank amid a hissing fizz of tiny bubbles.
3.9
“What good is sleep? I’ve never accomplished anything beneath a sheet.”
Plodding across the barren beach, Onjr, Leeg, and Fitchsher walking ahead, Minnie’s eyes sore from brackish air and sleepless night, she recalled the quote from an odd book Zisa had sent her. Diary of the Sterile and Sleepless, or maybe The Infertile Insomniac Journal. 300 digitized pages of half-depressing, half-psychedelic rambling from a barren woman in Shenzhen, ending with a failed adoption. When she’d finished it—the whole time waiting to reach whatever profound meaning Zisa had wanted her to glean from it—she sent a pic of the last page to Zisa along with “WTH?”