Dark Life: Rip Tide (9 page)

I knew who I had to thank for snatching away my one chance at getting information. All because of my age. And while Captain Revas was so busy sticking to the letter of the law, who was tracking down my parents?

Gabion grunted as Ratter yanked another lamprey from his blood-slicked body and tossed it aside. Despite his obvious pain, Gemma closed in on the slumped boxer. “You could have really hurt him out there,” she said, pointing at me. “He’s only fifteen, you know.”

Yelling at the guy who’d lost didn’t strike me as very sportsmanlike, but Gabion was going to have to defend himself against her scolding.

“I’m almost sixteen,” I told her as I passed to catch up with Captain Revas.

“Okay, he’s almost sixteen,” she amended, “but he’s still half your size.”

I smothered the urge to turn and correct that overstatement as well, and instead focused on my anger at the captain. I blocked her path. “I was close to getting information about Drift.”

“You’re out of line. Step off,” she said, without a trace of anger.

“Why are you even here? I thought you were out trying to save thousands of surfs. Isn’t that why you couldn’t spare more than three skimmers today?”

Though her dark eyes flashed, her tone remained cool. “Kid, I told you to go home. Last thing I need is a settler making some stupid comment that riles up the surfs.”

“I know better.” Even though I’d thought plenty of offensive things about surfs since the morning—with good reason.

“The way you knew how they felt about the ordinance?” she asked pointedly, and then stepped around me.

Okay, maybe I didn’t know what got surfs riled, but I’d mingled with them today and managed not to incite an uprising. I matched her pace. “There’s a surf on the sundeck who knows something about Drift.”

“A lot of them do. And so do I.”

“What?” I demanded. “What do you know?”

She didn’t answer.

“At least tell me why you think the Drift surfs did it—if they’re not asking for ransom.”

Stopping short, she faced me. “I tried putting it nicely, kid. But now I am officially ordering you off Rip Tide. Is that clear?”

A movement nearby caught my attention. Gabion had
hoisted himself into a sitting position on the deck. With his beady eyes pinned on me, he was obviously listening with interest.

“Is that clear?” Revas repeated in a military snarl.

“As dewdrops on a summer day.” Fife pushed himself up from his seat on the platform. “Ty needs to hurry back to the territory. He gets it.” He joined us. “Go do your Seaguard thing, Captain Revas, and I’ll make sure the boy gets off safely.”

Revas gave me a look like she wanted to crack open my head and see what I was planning, but all she said was, “I’ll contact you when I have news.” She stalked away then, barking orders at her troopers.

“Never cross the young ones, Ty,” Fife advised. “They’re always out to prove themselves, and it’s never pretty.”

“Depends how you define ‘pretty,’” Eel said, his eyes following Captain Revas.

“I can have Ratter take you two back to your Trade Station in my airship,” Fife offered.

“We have a sub.” All the energy leaked out of me. I just wanted answers—or at least assurance that my parents were going to be okay. And she expected me to go home with nothing.

“Don’t know how you folks do it. You can’t get me to travel a mile underwater. And living down there …” Fife shivered. “If the only wilderness I see is steamed and served on a plate, I’m a happy man. Anyway,” he
went on, “the line for the cable car will be a mile long. Go get some dinner at the café, champ. The girl, too. On me. You can take off when the crowd clears out.”

“Mayor Fife, can I go down to the jail and see Shade?” Gemma asked.

“Ask Captain Revas,” he said, strolling away. “While she’s on Rip Tide, I’m a guest in my own town.”

When Gemma took off to ask the captain, I slumped to the deck, feeling shipwrecked—smashed and run aground. An eel writhed, inches from my hand. With a swat, I sent it skidding back into the water and then noticed that Gabion was gone. I’d won the match fairly and yet had nothing to show for it. Not a single lead to pursue. How was I going to find Ma and Pa?

Bodies closed in on me, forming a circle of boots. Looking up, I found the Seablite Gang—minus Eel and Shade—glaring down at me. Now they looked as dangerous as I remembered.

“Seems you did bring the Seaguard here after all,” Pretty said. His tone was smooth, which was far more ominous than if he’d yelled.

“Making Shade’s arrest your fault,” Hatchet snarled, putting his sharpened teeth on full display.

“My fault?” I said, incredulous. I spotted Eel against the railing. He shrugged as if there was nothing he could do.

“Either you spring Shade tonight,” Kale warned, “or we will hunt you until you’re dead.”

“What did he say?” I asked Gemma when she returned from stopping by Representative Tupper’s table in the open café. We settled into a dark corner of the sundeck as far from the musicians as we could get. I’d retrieved my shirt and bandana from the slather shop but was too worried about my parents to eat. And too angry to follow Revas’s order to go home. So for now, I was staying out of sight.

The moon was bright and the party was in full swing. Not a single surf remained on Rip Tide. They’d been ushered off in droves the moment the boxing match was over. Only Topsiders were invited to this shindig, to laugh and dance on the sundeck under swaying ropes of tiny lights. Their zinc paint long since smeared. Their silky clothing stained. I wondered if the permanent residents of Rip Tide were lying in their beds now, cursing the racket that had to be echoing through all seven levels of the town.

“That only the president of the Assembly can issue a pardon for an outlaw,” Gemma said glumly. “And that she’d need a really good reason to do it.”

“Did you remind Tupper that the ’wealth locked the Seablite Gang in an underwater reform home and let a doctor experiment on them? The president should issue Shade a pardon for that alone, and let him start fresh.”

“I said all that and more.” Gemma sounded brokenhearted. “But Tupper says President Warison isn’t going to stick her neck out for some fugitive, because she’s already under constant attack.”

“Attack from who?”

“I didn’t bother to ask. I’m sure Tupper meant the scientists who are demanding that the ’wealth repeal Emergency Law because the Rising is over.”

“They’ll never do it,” I scoffed. “If we’re not living under Emergency Law, the states could hold elections again and all those Assembly representatives would get ousted. Including President Warison.”

Gemma shrugged, not caring one way or the other.

“Captain Revas should have let you see Shade.” As soon as the words were out, I felt bad for reminding her of her dwindling options. With Shade in prison, she couldn’t exactly live on the
Specter.

“She said no even after I told her that I was his sister.”

“No surprise. She’s heartless.”

“I just wanted to talk to him. We didn’t get much of a chance before the match.”

And in the little time they’d had together, Gemma had told him about my crisis, even though hers—finding a place to live—had to be weighing on her.

“I guess you were right,” she said. “The ’wealth doesn’t care about families.”

I winced inwardly because I knew that fact better than most. The ‘wealth had tried to rip my family apart when it came out that I had a Dark Gift. Topside doctors took my parents to court in an effort to get them declared unfit, all because they’d raised me subsea. Ever since hearing Shade’s story, I’d often thought that if I had been made a ward of the ’wealth, I probably would have ended up in Seablite as well.

I looked out at the ocean as panic rose in my chest. If I didn’t find my parents, Zoe and I could still end up as wards of the ’wealth. I shook off the thought. There was no way that I would let that happen. Especially not to Zoe. With her Dark Gift, someone in the government would take an interest in her and nothing good could come of that.

A gunshot rang out close by, making us both jump. We whirled to see a couple of Topsiders shooting skeet a little ways down the wall. With a
ker-chunk,
another glow-in-the-dark pigeon sailed into the night sky, followed by another shot. A hit this time, and the clay pigeon exploded over the ocean.

As the glowing dust drifted downward, an enormous fin broke the waves. The skeet shooters shouted, freaking over the size of the shark. Gemma and I exchanged a glance, knowing it was the Seablite Gang’s sub, the
Specter,
circling Rip Tide, waiting for me to deliver Shade. I should
probably have taken their threat seriously, but right then I didn’t care about my own well-being.

At least that’s what I thought until a hand grabbed me from behind and dragged me into the shadows of the stairwell. Gemma’s horrified expression gave me some prep for what I’d see when I turned. Still, my heart flipped over when I found Gabion scowling down at me.

And worse, he spoke.

A guttural, unintelligible string of words flew out of him and sent me stumbling back to avoid his spittle. But his grip on me tightened, keeping me close. When he opened his mouth again, my gaze locked on the white parasite within, which looked like an oversized sand flea. The creature waggled and flapped, almost as if dancing to his grunts.

Gemma stepped up beside me. “Try again,” she said matter-of-factly. “The first word is ‘go,’ right?”

When Gabion nodded, I nearly fell over from shock.

He let go of my arm and spoke again. Still unintelligible but, I now realized, not angry. He wasn’t looking to clout me for taking his title. With his black eyes boring into mine, he was desperately trying to tell me something. But for the life of me, I couldn’t guess what.

“I-I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I don’t understand.”

He looked to Gemma, but when she shook her head as well, he growled in frustration.

“Can you write it down?” she asked.

He winced, and I guessed that was a sore subject. I’d heard that a lot of surfs were illiterate. I wondered if asking him to act it out would be too insulting. But then another thought hit me. “Can you sign?”

His face lit up, and he pointed at me hopefully.

“Yeah, I can.” And in sign language I told him,
All the settlers can sign.

He looked astonished at that, and I realized there was a lot that surfs and settlers didn’t know about each other.

Raising his hands with their bulging knuckles, Gabion signed,
Most surfs can’t.

A tick of pain tightened my throat. How awful to have no one understand you. How lonely.
What did you want to tell me?
I asked before realizing that
I
didn’t need to sign. Gabion wasn’t deaf.

Footsteps clanged on the metal stairs below us. At least two people were coming up to the sundeck. Gabion shot a worried glance behind him as he quickly signed,
Go to the black market.

“Is that where Drift is?” I asked.

He shook his head. Then he seemed to reconsider and lifted his hands, palms up to show he didn’t know.

Gemma nudged me. “What did he say?”

“Why should I go?” I asked him. “What’s at the black market?”

Voices drifted up the stairwell as the footsteps climbed higher. Gabion jerked as if he’d been poked with a shock-prod. He spun to look down the stairs.

“Because he’s your prisoner until dawn,” the woman on the stairs snapped. “So station someone outside his cell.” I recognized Captain Revas’s voice.

Clearly Gabion did, too, because he motioned that he had to go.

I wondered why Revas had him running scared. “Wait,” I whispered, even though the footsteps were nearing the top of the stairs.

“Why can’t one of your troopers guard him?” asked a second voice, sounding very put out. Not surprisingly, it was Mayor Fife.

Backing into the shadows, Gabion signed,
Hardluck Ruins tomorrow night,
and vanished just as Captain Revas appeared.

I glanced at Gemma, who was frowning at the spot where Gabion had been. Brows pinched, she seemed suspicious of something. I beckoned her into the darkness of the covered walkway. The last thing I needed was another confrontation with Captain Revas.

Gemma and I watched from the shadows as Captain Revas paused at the top of the stairs and took a key from her pocket. “We’re leaving, and our sub can’t accommodate a prisoner. If Shade escapes before I return,” she said as Fife joined her on the deck, “I will hold you responsible.” She thrust the key into the mayor’s hand.

“Whatever you say, Captain.” Fife’s smile barely concealed his irritation. “How’s the hunt going for the other two townships?”

I saw Revas’s expression tighten, and then without a word, she left him. As soon as she strode past, I slipped out of the shadows.

“I still don’t see how this is my job,” Fife groused, pocketing the key. “I didn’t arrest Shade,” he called to Revas’s retreating back. “I didn’t even want him arrested!” When that got no reaction, Fife gave me a what-are-you-going-to-do shrug.

Joining us, Gemma frowned at him. “The captain didn’t appreciate your township comment.”

“Just amusing myself at her expense.”

“It’s not funny, though.”

Fife looked at Gemma with surprise. “You think I don’t care about those surfs? I’m the only one who noticed that they were missing. I’m the one who—Ratter, no!” he shouted, waving frantically past us.

We turned just as Ratter tipped a man over the side of the wall and sent him screaming into the ocean. There was a distant splash, but no one else on the sundeck seemed to hear it above the music.

In answer to Fife’s astounded glare, Ratter shrugged. “You told me to take care of the troublemakers.” Snatching a life preserver off the wall, he flung it into the waves without looking. “He’ll make it, boss. He wasn’t that drunk.”

As Ratter shoved off, Gemma and I hurried over to the wall and saw the man below, gripping the life preserver, kicking his way to shore. Instead of taking a look for himself, Fife watched us slump with relief and relaxed. “Sit,” he said, waving us toward the café tables. “And I’ll tell you about the missing townships if you’re interested.”

The fact that he didn’t fire Ratter or even yell at him irked me. But I did want to know about the townships, so I followed Fife through the crowd. Matching my stride, Gemma seemed to have let curiosity muffle her annoyance, too.

As we settled at a table, I noticed that the people around us all had glowing blue lips and teeth.
Another
weird Topside fashion?
I wondered. Then I spotted the center table piled high with clams—piddocks, to be exact. The kind that squirted phosphorescent slime. At the surrounding tables, people were happily cracking open the piddocks, slurping them down, and roaring with laughter as luminous goo dripped from their chins.

Oblivious to the partygoers’ antics, Fife launched into his explanation. “Rain or shine, on the first of the month, the townships show up at Rip Tide to collect their rations. When Fiddleback didn’t show up one month, I told the Seaguard that something tragic must have happened. These townships need the supplies too much to skip a month. But the Seaguard did nothing. Six months later, Surge stopped coming. Called that in—nothing. Finally, this month when Nomad didn’t show, the Seaguard sent young Captain Revas to investigate. Can’t say I’m too impressed. Heard you two found Nomad.” Fife hailed a waiter. “Bring me a glass of sugar kelp wine. And for you,” he said looking at us, “carrageen milk shakes?”

“No, thanks,” I said, knowing Gemma hated the mossy red seaweed, especially when served as a spicy, gelatinous drink.

“Why would someone do it?” Gemma asked him. “Kill all those people?”

“I think I’ll keep my mouth shut on that subject or
I
might end up anchored to the seafloor.”

“We won’t repeat it,” she assured.

With a sigh, Fife leaned across the table. “It’s a guess, that’s all, but I think certain government officials might be tired of fulfilling a treaty that was made eighty years ago.”

Gemma shot me a told-you-so look.

“The past few years, the ’wealth has been sending fewer rations. The surfs are barely scraping by. When I asked about it, I was told that the order to cut back came from on high. Wouldn’t surprise me if other orders got passed down as well.”

“To anchor a township?” I asked, disbelieving. “No one would obey an order like that.”

“History says otherwise,” Fife countered. “Look at it this way: Who stands to benefit if the surfeit population goes down? Only the government.” Suddenly a hearty smile spread over his face. “Well, hello, Rep. Care to join us?”

I turned to see Representative Tupper coming up behind me. Fife sent us a conspiratorial look—as if we needed to be told not to criticize the ’wealth around Tupper.

“No, I’m heading back to the mainland now,” Tupper said. His streaky zinc slather gave him an unsettling look—like his face was melting. “But when I saw you with the Townson boy,” he went on, “I had to come over. You’re telling him all that he wants to know, right?”

Fife met eyes with me. “I think I’ve told Ty more than he wanted to know.”

Tupper thumped me on the back. “Good. Because I’ve been giving your parents’ situation some thought, young man. If the surfs are brazen enough to abduct two of the territory’s founders, how does that look to the public? Why, it could slow down the seaward expansion. And I can assure you, no one wants that.”

I felt my resentment rise. In Tupper’s view, my parents’ kidnapping was a public relations problem.

“Which is why I’ve instructed Captain Revas to keep me apprised,” he went on. “If she isn’t able to recover your parents in the next twenty-four hours, I will bring up the incident on the floor of the Assembly. I’ll call it an act of terrorism,” he finished grandly.

“What good will that do?” Gemma asked.

“My dear, a terrorist incident cannot be ignored. Not by the state representatives or the public. The surfs will have to choose: return your parents or become an official enemy of the Commonwealth.”

“Why wait twenty-four hours?” I twisted in my seat to face him. “Why not put the pressure on now?”

“What a rustic life you lead on the great plains of the ocean floor,” he said with amusement. “I can’t throw around a word like ‘terrorist’ without getting the Assembly’s approval first. Off the record, of course. Wouldn’t
want to spoil the ‘shock effect’ of my speech. Well, good night, all.”

The party on the sundeck was growing louder. The music, laughter, even cheers.

Fife regarded me with undisguised interest. “I didn’t know that your parents were such important people.”

“They’re not,” I said. “They’re just subsea farmers. But they’re important to me.”

“And me,” Gemma said.

Fife got to his feet. “Well, I have to go find someone to guard our fugitive.” He shot me a sympathetic look. “Shade is a friend of yours, I know. Mine, too. But my hands are tied. You understand that?”

I nodded while Gemma focused on rewrapping her sari.

“Can I ask you something quick?” I asked.

“Of course,” he said, beckoning us to walk with him.

“I need to go to Hardluck Ruins.” Ignoring Fife’s raised brows, I asked, “You know where that is, right?”

“I do….” His surprise turned into suspicion. “What exactly are you looking to buy?”

“Nothing. I just think I might find answers there. About Drift.”

Fife stopped short. “Who put that idea into your head?”

“Good question,” Gemma said, pointedly tossing the loose end of her sari over her shoulder.

“Who cares? What matters is finding my parents.”

“There’s no information booth in Hardluck Ruins,” Fife said. “It’s a place where ‘dangerous’ and ‘unsavory’ describe a good day.”

“I’m old enough to decide what I can handle.”

“There’s a term for that, son: famous last words.”

When I didn’t crack a smile, he studied me.

“All right. Tell Revas to send a few troopers to check it out. That
is
their job.”

“I’m done asking Captain Revas for help. She’s got other priorities.”

“Won’t argue with you there,” Fife said. “But I’m not going to help you set off on a goose chase that could get you killed. Especially when you won’t tell me who pointed you in that direction. Makes me think you’re being set up.” With a tip of his hat, he started toward a table of raucous men, which included Ratter.

“Gabion,” Gemma said.

Fife turned. “Excuse me?”

“What?” she said, catching my look. “He didn’t say anything about not telling.”

Because Gabion hadn’t had time to say much at all, but it had been obvious that he didn’t want to be caught talking to us.

“What makes you think Gabion knows anything about anything?” Fife asked me.

“It’s the only lead I’ve got.”

“Which is no lead if it’s a trap,” Gemma said. “He tried to knock you senseless out on that raft. Didn’t pull a single punch. And now he wants to help you?”

“Smart girl,” Fife said. “And I’ll tell you why she’s right to be suspicious. You just bumped him off the best-paying gig he’ll ever have. The man can’t talk. Can’t read or write. The surf boxing circuit was his only shot at earning real money and you, a boy—a
settler
—humiliated him. I’m sure he’s looking for payback.”

“He didn’t seem vindictive,” I said.

“Because he’s trying to lure you someplace dangerous so he can punch you to a bloody pulp,” Gemma said as if it was obvious.

“Or worse,” Fife added pleasantly.

A chill passed over my heart. Laid out like that, their suspicions made far more sense than Gabion taking a friendly interest in my problems.

“Sorry, son. But you’re not going to get the coordinates to Hardluck Ruins from me. I don’t dabble in assisted suicide.”

My hopes collapsed as he strolled off. Who else would know where to find the surfs’ black market? No settler, that was for sure. And if Captain Revas knew, she was even less likely to tell me than Fife was.

Gemma met my eyes, but I couldn’t read her expression. “What?”

In answer, she opened her hand to reveal a key.

I inhaled sharply. “You picked Mayor Fife’s pocket.” Really, I shouldn’t have been surprised. I’d seen her perform that trick before.

“If we don’t help Shade escape, the Seablite Gang will come after you.”

I suspected that wasn’t the real reason she wanted her brother free, but didn’t say so.

“And besides,” she went on, “he might be able to tell us where Hardluck Ruins is.”

After her dramatic warning about Gabion, I couldn’t believe she wanted to find the place.

Seeing my skepticism, she sighed. “It’s the only lead we have.”

“Why would Shade know anything about Hardluck Ruins? He’s not a surf.”

“When his gang was robbing supply ships, they had to sell the goods somewhere. Like maybe a black market …”

I nodded. That made sense.

“But we can’t just ask him for directions,” she said firmly. “He has to promise to come along as your bodyguard.”

I had to admit, Shade’s protection would be no small thing. I could have kissed her for being so smart.
Well, and for other reasons. But I forced myself to focus on the problem ahead of us—breaking Shade out of jail.

“Okay, I’m in.”

As I hurried down the stairs, I scanned each deck, wondering how we should get off Rip Tide. The cable car was out—at least for Shade. By freeing him, I knew I was officially throwing my lot in with outlaws. But he was the only person who might be able to help me get to Hardluck Ruins. And even that wasn’t guaranteed.

As I stepped onto deck three, I heard, “Hey, kid!” and turned to see Captain Revas striding toward me. “What are you still doing here?”

Before I could stammer through some lame excuse, a trooper called to her.

“Captain, we’re all boarded.” He stood by a grappling hook that hung over the wall.

“Go,” Revas told him. “I’m right behind you.”

I was surprised to see the trooper drop over the side of the wall and disappear. I crossed and peered over in time to see him shinny down a rope and into the hatch of a massive Seaguard sub.

“Where are you going?” I faced Revas.

“Following a lead.”

I couldn’t help but wonder if Gabion had told her to head to Hardluck Ruins as well. But considering Gabion’s
obvious avoidance of the captain earlier, I decided it was unlikely.

“About my parents?”

Her look was as clear as if she’d said,
“You know better than to ask”
aloud.

“There’s a lot I can’t tell you, Ty, but I do want to make sure you understand why I couldn’t let Fife name you the winner today.”

I shrugged like it didn’t matter, though truth was, I was still simmering over it. I had won, fair and square. Something as trifling as my age shouldn’t factor in.

“I couldn’t let it slide, exploiting a kid. Not even once,” she said. “Because then a scumbag like Fife will think he can get away with it.” She paused, then added, “And maybe the next boy wouldn’t be so lucky out on that raft.”

I clenched my jaw to keep from pointing out that the next boy was nothing more than a theory, while the danger my parents faced was real. Not that she cared.

“But if the law cracks down every time,” she went on, “then the scumbags know that it’s not worth it to even try.”

“Sure. I understand,” I replied stiffly.

“Go home,” she said again, though with less vehemence than before. “You have my word that I’m doing all I can for your parents.” Then she swung her legs over the
wall and shinnied down the rope to the sub waiting below.

I unclenched my hands, surprised at just how clammy they were.

Without a second to spare, I crept down the last two stairwells and into cold water that came up to my chest. How I wished I had on my diveskin. But at least I’d talked Gemma into letting me come down to the jail. She thought Shade would be more likely to say yes to her, while I’d argued that I could navigate in the dark and she would be better at stalling a guard on his way down. Now that I knew the light down here wasn’t just dim, it was nonexistent, I was glad she’d given in. Besides, if Shade wanted out of his cell, he’d strike a deal with any stiff who held the key.

The farther in I went, the creepier it got. Without my Dark Gift, I would have been lost, to say nothing of jumpy, between the maze of pipe-lined passages and all the hissing, rumbling, and clanking. Clearly this was the mechanicals level.