Kareen Ale standing in the arched opening. She gave a nervous start as she saw him, then smiled.
"Ambassador Ale," he said, momentarily surprised at his own formality. They had been Kareen and Ward off the debate floor for several seasons now. Something about her nervous posture, though, said this was a formal visit.
"Forgive my coming to your quarters without warning," she said. "But we have something to discuss, Ward."
She glanced at the image in his hand and nodded, as though it confirmed something.
Keel stood aside for her to enter. He sealed the door against casual entry and watched Ale choose a seat and sink into it without invitation. As always, he was conscious of her beauty.
"I heard about that," Ale said, gesturing at the stretched sheet of organics in his hand.
He lifted the image and glanced at it. "You came topside because of this?"
She held her face motionless for an instant, then shrugged. "We monitor a number of topside activities," she said.
"I've often wondered about your spy system," he said. "I am beginning to distrust you, Kareen."
"What is making you attack me, Ward?"
"This is a rocket, is it not?" He waved the image at her. "A Merman rocket?"
Ale grimaced, but did not seem surprised that Keel had guessed.
"Ward, I would like to take you back down under with me. Let's call it an instructional visit."
She had not answered his question but her attitude was sufficient admission. Whatever was going on, the Mermen wanted the mass of Islanders and the religious community left out of it. Keel nodded. "You're after the hyb tanks! Why was the C/P not asked to bless this enterprise?"
"There were those among us ..." She shrugged. "It's a political matter among the leading Mermen."
"You want another Merman monopoly," he accused.
She looked away from him without answering.
"How long would this instructional visit require?" he asked.
She stood. "Perhaps a week. Perhaps longer."
"What subject matter will be covered by this instructional visit?"
"The visit itself will have to answer that for you."
"So I'm to prepare myself for an indefinite visit down under whose purpose you will not reveal until I get there?"
"Please trust me, Ward."
"I trust you to be loyal to Merman interests," he said, "just as I'm loyal to the Islanders."
"I swear to you that you will come to no harm."
He allowed himself a grim smile. What an embarrassment it would be to the Mermen if he died down under! And it could happen. The medics had been indefinite about the near side of the death sentence they had passed on Chief Justice Ward Keel.
"Give me a few minutes to pack my kit and turn over my more urgent responsibilities to others," he said.
She relaxed. "Thank you, Ward. You will not regret this."
"Political secrets always interest me," he said. He reminded himself to take a fresh tablet for his journal. There would be things to record on this instructional visit, of that he was certain. Words on plaz and chants in his memory. This would be action, not speculative philosophy.
***
A planet-wide consciousness died with the kelp and with it went the beginnings of a collective human conscience. Was that why we killed the kelp?
- Kerro Panille's Collected Works
Shadow Panille's thickly braided black hair whipped behind him as he ran down the long corridor toward Current Control. Other Mermen dodged aside as he passed. They knew Panille's job. Word already had spread through the central complex - unspecified trouble with a major Island. Big trouble.
At the double hatch of Current Control, Panille did not pause to regain his breath. He undogged the outer hatch, ducked through and sealed the outer latch with one hand while spinning the dog for the inner hatch with his other hand. Definitely against Procedural Orders.
He was into the hubbub of Current Control then, a place of low illumination. Long banks of instruments and displays glowed and flashed against two walls. CC's activity and the displays told him immediately that his people were in the throes of a crisis. Eight screens had been tuned to remotes showing dark blotches of sea bottom strewn with torn bubbly and other Island debris. Surface monitors scanned decrepit scatterings of small boats, all of them overcrowded with survivors.
Panille took a moment trying to assess what he saw. The small craft bobbed amidst a wide, oily expanse of flotsam. The few Islander faces he saw showed dull shock and hopelessness. He could see many injured among the survivors. Those able to move attempted to staunch blood flowing from jagged slashes in flesh.