Changelings (16 page)

CHAPTER 18

T
HE TWINS WERE
tired by the time they reached the laboratory. First they had to convince Marmie that they were too sleepy to stay up and play a game with her, as she suggested, but needed to go straight to bed. Then they had to wait until all was quiet and they were sure she’d retired to her quarters before they crept out of the house.

Marmie had set the weather for fall. Holo leaves fell from holo trees and wind gathered them in breathy gusts into holo piles along the banks of the fake river, from which a holo deer was drinking. Realistic rattling and rustling sounds accompanied the whistle of the wind as if an overly friendly ghost were trying to get their attention.

They made it through the garden without arousing Pet or the security staff, and reached the utility stairs leading to the next level. Stairs and elevators honeycombed the vast station, though most people chose to use the flitter fleet.

The stairs were metal, grated, and zigzagged back and forth in a seemingly endless sawtooth between Marmie’s deck and the next one. Every step the twins took clanked and clattered, but it didn’t make a lot of difference since most of the station’s nonresidential areas operated continuously, were brightly lit, and had people coming and going at all hours.

The third level, where the school and Professor Mabo’s science lab were located, was an exception. The white-tiled hallways that were so brilliantly lit during school hours were now dimly lit tunnels demarcated by strip lighting running the length of the hallway where the floors met the walls.

Each footstep seemed to them to echo as loudly as a blacksmith’s hammer on an anvil as they tried to creep forward toward the lab.

When they reached the lab door, Ronan pulled out the keys.
This is it. You keep lookout.

Out here? By myself?
The whites of Murel’s eyes seemed very white indeed as she peered down the maze of hallways.

Sure, what are you afraid of? If there are any wolves around here, you can trust Professor Mabo to have them locked up in cages.

Professor Mabo makes the wolves look gentle and friendly as sled pups,
Murel said.
I don’t mind admitting I’m a bit afraid of her. What if she decides to come back?

Oh, she won’t do that,
Ronan said with more certainty than he felt, once he had a moment to think it over.
She doesn’t plan to do any more work until tomorrow, when she tortures the turtle.

Well, go on then. And make it snappy, will you? We have a lot of stairs to carry a turtle up before it’s time to get ready for school again.

Ronan fitted the key, gave Murel a thumbs-up sign, opened the door and let it snick gently closed behind him. The lights in the lab immediately flared into brilliance. They did that when anybody walked in. It wasn’t so—sudden—during school hours, but now he felt as if a spotlight had been focused on him. He shook himself a little, as if misgivings, like water, could be dispersed that way.

The lab seemed huge now, the tables with the chairs upended over them for the custodian to clean the floors, the racks of beakers and bottles above each table. His footsteps and even his breath sounded unnaturally loud.

He had not pulled the curtain over the front of the water tanks again, but even so, he couldn’t see much but the ladder at the top of the tank and the glint of water among the chair legs and beaker racks as the light sparked white from its surface. As he drew nearer, he could see more of the tank walls, and expected to see the turtle by the time he’d drawn close enough to touch the tanks and could see their bottoms. To his surprise, however, both tanks appeared empty.

He couldn’t see the turtle at all. True, the saltwater tank did seem a bit murkier than it had before, the sandy bottom stirred into the water making it cloudy, but that shouldn’t have kept him from seeing the turtle. He checked the freshwater tank and the tank in which the Honu had been housed to begin with, but both were empty.
Turtle? Honu? You there? Where are you? It’s me, Ronan. I came to—

Heeeelp,
a feeble thought reached him. The turtle sounded weak and frightened.
Help me, Ronan. I’m stuck.

Stuck? Where?
Ronan pressed hs face to the glass, cupping his hands around his eyes to try to see into the tank more deeply without interference from the lights in the room. They cast his reflection back at him so that he got in his own way when he tried to see.

Down here. In this cave.

Cave?
The tank was glass, not natural landscape. Why would there be a—
Oh, you mean a drain, I bet. How did you get in there?

Tried . . . escape . . . but . . . I . . . am too big. No air here. Need air.

Sea turtles, like seals, needed to breathe every few minutes, Ronan knew. He and Murel had done a search for the Honu’s species in the station’s extensive computer databanks. They’d learned some other interesting things about the Honuian sea turtles too, while trying to figure out what they would feed the turtle and where the best place would be to keep him once they rescued him.

Hang on,
Ronan said, and began stripping off his clothing.
Murel, the turtle got stuck in the drain. I have to dive in and pull him out. I’m not sure how I’m going to do that, of course, when all I have to use are flippers, so you may have to come into the room and help us.

Now?

No, wait till I tell you. Keep lookout meantime.

He climbed up the ladder to the top of the tank, poised over the edge for a moment, and dived in. His vision underwater and in the dark was much better as a seal than as a human. Diving to the bottom of the tank, he spotted the back half of the turtle’s shell and its tail and rear flippers sticking out of a round hole in the rear wall.

Ronan swam all around the drain and the turtle, wondering why the hole hadn’t been covered. He tried the claws on his flippers to tear at the portion of the drainage pipe farthest from the turtle’s body. It was made of much sterner stuff than ice and he quickly gave it up.

I’m going to take hold of the edge of your shell and pull,
he told the turtle.
Your tail doesn’t look sturdy enough to withstand my claws or teeth.

Oooh, I should say not!
The turtle’s thought came out with a sort of squeak.
Be careful to bite only the shell. I’m quite tender underneath. And ticklish.

That was a problem. Ronan couldn’t get his teeth to lock tightly enough on the turtle’s shell to pull at it. His teeth kept sliding off the slippery carapace. He tried first one side, then the other. Once he thought he felt the turtle slip a little and intensified his efforts, but Honu remained as stuck as ever.

Okay, let’s try one more thing. I’m going to ram, er, nudge you from each side and hope to jar you loose. I’ll try not to hurt you.

The turtle winced. Ronan felt it, though he neither saw nor heard any physical change in the trapped creature. Backing up as far as the small tank allowed, he swam at the turtle from the left, bumped into the back of the shell and felt it move a little. He did it again. When there was no further movement, he swam up under the trapped creature and butted it from below. Then he attacked from the right and started over again. Gradually, the vibrations his movement set up caused the turtle’s shell to separate from the lip of the drain. The turtle felt it too and its tail began to bob like a rotor warming up while its rear flippers started to backpaddle.

Someone’s coming!
Murel sent a warning thought.

We’re allllmost there,
Ronan told her.
But you’re going to have to come in now. I need you to lift him out and help me out of the tank so I can change back enough to climb down the ladder.

Before he finished the thought, he heard the clanking of feet knocking the rungs of the ladder against the side of the tank. As he pulled the turtle free, he looked up to see Murel peering down at them.

Come on. Hurry,
she urged.

The turtle popped loose of the drain and lay on the bottom of the tank for a moment, the movements of its tail and back flippers twitchy instead of purposeful. One of the front flippers looked like it had a small tear. Ronan hoped he wasn’t responsible.

The turtle’s thoughts were fainter than ever and disjointed. Ronan carefully picked up the shell and balanced it between his front flippers and his body.

You can make it, Turtle,
Murel coaxed.
That’s it. The tank’s not that deep. Just a bit farther.

Finally, the water splashed just above Ronan’s nose and the weight was lifted from his flippers and neck as Murel said,
Gotcha!

The turtle’s thought was something like the turtle equivalent of
Ahhh.

Ronan thought he was making a lot of noise, or Murel was, clanking against the tank, when all of a sudden the turtle plummeted back into the tank and Murel fell in after, her body striking Ronan’s and driving him downward with the force of her plunge. She changed shapes as she fell so that the fall turned into a less than graceful dive.

Looking down at them, where Murel’s face had been a moment before, was the small dark face of Professor Mabo. She wore a gloating expression. “I do not know what I am going to do with that assistant of mine,” she said. “I thought I told him to clean the tank, but although it is not growing algae, it seems to have grown two seals since I last looked. Hello, Shongili twins. I trust the water is fine.”

Neither of them could answer her or ask how she had known they’d be there, but she told them anyway. “You couldn’t resist trying to steal my specimen, could you, Ronan? You are too much your father’s son. He wouldn’t allow me to study the otters either. Perhaps he realized I’d rather be studying you. And here you are. I have my wish. Little Murel has even granted me some immediate gratification by changing shape before my very eyes. I know you thought you were being clever, Ronan, with your questions about the causative factors of transformations. Now you and your sister will have the opportunity to help me answer those questions and more, in earnest.”

Ronan was exhausted from struggling to free the turtle. He had not been able to get a breath himself before Murel and the turtle came back down on top of him. But Murel was angry. He could feel her anger although she said nothing. But the anger spewed her upward like a slippery furry geyser from the bottom of the tank straight up to Dr. Mabo. Ronan saw his sister’s sharp seal teeth snap and Dr. Mabo shriek and fall away from the ladder.

Murel dived back down into the tank with a big sealy smile stretched across her muzzle.

Did you bite her?
Ronan asked.

No, but I scared her, didn’t I?

“Thank you, Ronan or Murel, as the case may be.” Marmion’s voice reached the twins from beyond the tank. Actually, her words were a bit garbled by the water, but they also caught her thought. It was clearly projected and easy to pick up, although they could not normally read people other than each other and sometimes their father.

The water in the tank quivered and the glass vibrated with what felt like a herd of moose galloping across the lab floor. Not moose, of course, but people! Help? The ladder clanked and groaned as someone clambered up it again.

“Get away from there!” Dr. Mabo’s voice, muted by the water, was still nasty. “What are you people doing here anyway? Madame, I insist on privacy to conduct my experiments. You students have no business here without my permission.”

Other voices, both male and female, obscured hers until they all sounded like they were speaking through layers of cloth.

Then Johnny Green’s friendly face appeared at the top of the tank where Mabo’s sneering one had been before Murel scared her off the ladder.

“Okay, kids, come along,” Johnny said, holding out his arms. “You’re safe now.”

The man will lift you out,
Ronan told Honu.
He is a friend.

Honu shot to the surface while Ronan surfaced long enough to watch and catch his breath. Johnny lifted the creature gently and handed him off to someone else standing behind and below him and blurred by the water.

Johnny was not strong enough, however, to lift either twin in slippery seal form. Pulling them out of the water and up over the ladder while they changed would be difficult.

The tank was small for two half-grown seals, and there wasn’t much room to swim. Besides which, the turtle, having caught his breath, told them that he wanted to return to the water too. Their rescuers had set the turtle on the floor beside the tank, and the weight on its flippers was more than it could bear. Ronan kept bumping the glass next to the turtle to try to alert Johnny and their other rescuers, whoever they were, of the turtle’s needs.

Then Ke-ola, previously hidden by the rungs of the ladder while he stood at its foot, bent over, picked up the turtle and lifted it back up to Johnny.

“The sacred Honu wishes to return to the water,” Ke-ola told him. Johnny grunted and shook his head but set Honu loose again inside the tank.

Ahhh.
The turtle once more emitted the turtle equivalent of a sigh.

The people outside the tank looked in as the turtle dived back down toward the seals. Ke-ola had come in answer to the distress broadcast by the Honu. Johnny Green, Marmion, and Pet Chan were there because Rory alerted them to what his grandmother was doing to the twins.

“So,” Johnny said. “The turtle is back but the kids aren’t out. I don’t see how we’re going to do this unless we just break this sucker open.” He gave the side of the tank a little kick.

“The children could be injured by fragments, assuming we found something strong enough to break the glass,” Marmie said. “It is shatterproof, laser proof—”

“Etcetera. I understand. Very well then, what do you suggest? The kids can’t stay in there forever.”

“How about a crane?” Pet Chan suggested. “It could hoist them out of the water with no problem. I’ll just call down to the hangar and have them send up a small one with a basket on it, shall I?”