Dea traversed the vast blue, darkened under the weeping skies. Thunder boomed, reflecting her inner state.

It dawned on her that she would have to weather Gramma's wrath upon arrival. The twenty-four-hour permit had also expired, which meant that she was in trouble with the authorities. It would have scared her in normal circumstances, but now, the repercussions that awaited her elicited no emotion—except guilt.

Guilt bloomed within—not just due to the danger her reckless actions spelled for her city-state, but also for putting Gramma through wanton worry.

Then her brain went off at a tangent, evoking the encounter with Anuk and what he had told her. The horrors and the loss of Burpy throbbed dangerously close to dominating her head. She inhaled a shuddering breath. Please no, no, no.

Drained to the core, she hugged the travel pillow tighter.

Other than the relentless turmoil within, the journey itself was uneventful. Dea slowly straightened up when the Angler neared the coral atoll. Her heavy eyes took note of various oceanmarks she passed just the day before.

As she skimmed over the brown sediment on a stretch of seafloor, Dilip invaded her head. His signature smile broadened, and her skin crawled. Hate oozed and bubbled—a pestilence that swept across her mindscape, making everything wilt in its wake.

Her fists balled, knuckles taut against the seat. They had to stop the humans plundering the seas, but the sheer scale of such an operation was beyond Calliathron's power. It was unlikely even with the combined might of other city-states—given that they could unite and form a confederation against this common threat. It could very well end up in a planet-wide war between land and sea that could devastate Earth.

The impossible odds weighed down, and Dea rubbed her temples. The headache battered away with renewed intensity. One problem at a time...

The Little Angler glided on towards the main channel that led into Karmant, and her idle eyes fixed on cargo vehicles converging in the distance. She found herself dwelling on the captured merpeople. Did they venture into land the way I did? Her stomach twisted, and the resolve to warn the city hardened like volcanic glass.

Dea extracted the ogi and tried to recall snippets of dialogue that might indicate where the facility was located. Tattoo Guy spoke of a boat, so it must be accessible by sea. Maybe it's an island.

She was so engrossed in it that she didn't notice the incoming vehicles.

Three motorpods whooshed towards her in the bright blue waters. When Dea's eyes ticked up, they surrounded the submersible, setting off the proximity sensors. The Angler decelerated to an abrupt halt.

She stared at the officers atop the hovering pods, their helmets and face shields gleaming with animated reflections.

"Miss, you'll be coming with us," one officer said in mechanical tones while his comms system beeped.

"Am I under arrest?" Dea asked, eyes flitting from one to the other.

"Follow me." He turned the motorpod around in a parabola, issuing a plume of bubbles.

Dea's hand closed over the joystick, a weary calm settling over her. The numb phase was welcoming—it was akin to circulation being cut off, rendering her immune to pain and fear.

The Angler trailed behind the lead vehicle, while the other two pods hemmed her in on both sides.

"Copy that," the merwoman to the right said into a communicator. "We're on our way."

Upon reaching the channel, the police guided her to the bottommost roadway reserved for express entry, which bypassed traffic and customs.

Dea maneuvered the craft along the line that marked the way, while cargo vehicles and delivery pods inched along on lanes above. She absent-mindedly tracked the buoyant road studs attached to the line, their microalgae cores glowing a faint green.

Soon afterwards, they breezed past the security checkpoints set along the towering walls on either side of the channel.

It was now afternoon, and Karmant was in full swing. Traffic chugged along while merpeople overflowed from workshops and offices. The chaotic soundscape enveloped her, muffled in the sealed interior of the DSV.

As they passed by a construction site, Dea glanced at a giant robotic arm manipulated by two merpeople in helmets and work overalls. Fragments of thought coalesced into Anuk.

She set the Angler back to autopilot mode and hit the follow-target command. Then she extracted Anuk's phone from her bag.

The blockish device was the only link she had to him. Yet, it couldn't be switched on. It simply hadn't survived full immersion in the sea during her desperate swim to the cove.

It joined the broken collar in her backpack.

The motorpods led her to a police hangar. It stood wedged between two dreary buildings. That was when she realized that the officers weren't wearing regular CPD uniforms.

The white shirt looked nothing out of the ordinary, but the midnight blue jacket and tail sheath were detailed with silver filigree. It was vaguely familiar, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Maybe it's a special unit.

Dea massaged her forehead and eased the submersible into the airlock. The next few minutes streaked by in a blur.

As soon as she disembarked into the hangar's indoor lagoon, the officers confiscated the Little Angler.

"Wait, what about my things?" Dea demanded.

"They will be checked and returned," the merwoman replied without missing a beat and then observed her bedraggled state. "Do you require medical assistance?"

She sucked in a tremulous breath. "No."

They whisked her out to a waiting vehicle.

She curbed the desperate urge to take off and check up on Gramma. The prospect of seeing her and Hima again made her heart soar. For a moment, Dea wished she could reverse time and go back to her old life, unburdened and oblivious. All she wanted now was to get home and barricade herself in her room.

The shiny submersible outside the police station replicated the midnight blue of the CPD, but it lacked their logo. The viewport was almost opaque, reflecting the floating streams of traffic and pedestrians.

Dea had no strength in her to question it or protest. When the driver opened the rear door for her, she simply got in.

They journeyed through Karmant and slid onto a highway. The vehicle picked up speed as the road lines arced high into an overpass. Dea's leaden eyes gazed out from the higher vantage point. In the far distance, the iconic tower of the city center was just visible out of the all-encompassing blue.

She took hold of the oxy-hose to her side, attached her mouth piece and took a long sip of air with meditative slowness. Then her eyes shifted to the front.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked in a quiet gurgle, sending bubbles fizzing up with each syllable.

"Sit tight, miss," the merman said. "We'll be there soon."

She pulled in another lungful of air. The driver's shoulder peeked out from the side of the seat, and the hypnotic wink of his earpiece pulled her into a stupor.

Within half an hour, they exited the highway and arrived in Sirye.

Manicured neatness greeted her as they cruised along a boulevard lined with ornamental seaweed and white rock. Domes of large, upscale houses and the occasional boutique shop rose up against turquoise waters. Now that they were near the city center, the Tower of Calliathron glistened in the backdrop in a mosaic of glass and silver.

"Why am I in Sirye?" Dea asked, soaking in the surroundings.

No response was forthcoming.

She hugged her backpack and leaned back in the seat. Surprisingly, all she experienced was relief. She was back in the city. That was all that mattered. Tears welled up and dissolved into the water-filled interior.

The man eased the submersible past a security checkpoint into a private avenue. It curved up an incline and opened up to a mansion of exquisite coralline architecture. Dea blinked at it through the tinted viewport.

It was the official residence of Hal Moray Massa, the Regent of Calliathron.

Cogs turned in her brain to make sense of this whole new development. A wave of exhaustion swept through her system, sapping the last of her energy. A part of her just wanted to crumple into a ball and give in to it.

The vehicle circled a roundabout and floated to a stop by the entrance. Then the driver got out. Her eyes twitched as she struggled to focus. The headache pulsated to the rhythm of her quickening heartbeat. Maybe they want information.

As the merman swam around to open the rear door, she slipped into a grim mental simulation of jail and exile. She wondered if that was what happened to Kelp and Muda. They must've been interrogated by the SBI—not brought to the Regent's residence. This makes no sense.

Dea forced herself to clamber out and hoisted the backpack onto her shoulders. Directly in her line of vision were elaborate double doors of brown and gold, set under an arching overhang. Columns slanted in fluid shapes, made of pale marble and cast glass.

The driver gestured for her to enter, at the same time another officer emerged from the doors, clad in the same attire. Oh, the Royal Guard!

The newcomer bowed his head and held a hand on the doorway to keep it open. Dea's lethargic flukes kicked harder to propel her into motion.

Once they were inside the sizeable airlock chamber, the outer doors sealed shut for depressurization.

While the water drained halfway, her flukes swayed back and forth to keep her aloft. Her head whirled with a bout of dizziness under the unreality of this situation—coupled with the dead weight of her harrowing experiences.

The inner doors finally slid open, issuing a low hiss.

The opulence within the premises was reminiscent of Dilip's land mansion—except this was half inundated to accommodate merpeople. The man led her across the atrium, basking under a large skylight.

She drifted past purple water lilies blooming in all their splendor. Then her gaze panned over an expansive mezzanine all the way up to the glass dome that formed the ceiling.

The sunny blue waters high above her head cast slanting beams and dappled the walls and columns. A fountain towered up at the center, sitting on an islet of marble. Its abstract form spouted out twin cascades, scattering myriad droplets and misty vapor.

"That's an echo-sculpture, miss," the merman said, observing her stupefied stare.

In response, Dea shot out high-pitched clicks towards the textured side, facing away from the waterfall.

Sure enough, the echo-painting materialized under the directional wave of pulses—similar to an optical illusion viewed from the correct angle. Registering as both art and music, it was a welcome distraction from her immediate worries.

Her brain inadvertently feasted on its afterimage as she entered a glass elevator. Then they ascended to the first floor.

Bewildered yet again by this confusing turn of events, Dea trailed down a hallway and arrived at a stout door. The merman held it open for her to enter. She slowly paddled in.

As she squinted against a bright window wall, Dea had a second to discern a spacious study before a stooping figure splashed towards her with surprising vigor.

Wrinkly hands clasped her arms. "You stubborn, stubborn child!"

Dea blinked, and her mouth pivoted open. "G—Gramma?"

Animal: Flying Fish

https://youtu.be/bk7McNUjWgw