The Octopus Effect (14 page)

Flangelo shook his head. “Well, there's no Breeze to invite people into our domain. And that's not New Jersey up there; I don't know where it is. The whole place moves—Gilio designed it to relocate regularly. Even Council members need Gilio's approval to have Gateways take them to the nearest beach, and then they still need the vesicle to bring them in.”

“The what?” Alysha asked.

“That bubble that was your chariot,” Flangelo said.

As they walked and talked, the grass beneath their feet gave way to sand again.

“So all the Biology members have to go through that each time they want to come to meet?” Owen asked. “Seems like an awful lot of work. And dangerous, too.”

“It's at least as safe as the Gateway system.” He paused. “Which probably terrifies you, too, doesn't it, little lion-heart?”

Owen made a “sort-of” gesture with his hand.

“As for the coming and going,” Flangelo said, “it doesn't happen as often as you'd think. Most of us live here.”

“I thought Union members go around as teachers to help Outsiders discover stuff,” Alysha said. “How does that work if you're all down here playing Atlantis and the rest of the world doesn't even know you exist?”

Owen gasped. “Is
this
Atlantis?”

Flangelo whistle-laughed. “No, but that's a funny story. Supposedly, a couple of guys in Physics were trying to impress a woman in another Order and . . . well . . . good-bye, continent, hello, annoying legend.”

Simon pointed to a stretch of coral reef and the dome outline beside it. “That's where we came in. Do you think Sirabetta came through here, too?”

“Is
that
what this visit's about? That witch is back?” Flangelo warbled. “Wonderful. I'm pretty sure she didn't come through here, though.”

“Why's that?” Alysha asked.

“Even if she managed to find this place and get past the protective formulas, she'd have been spotted by the guards. At the very least, they'd have told me about it.”

“I hate to argue—” Alysha said.

Before she could finish, Flangelo fake-whispered, “Not likely.”

Alysha rolled her eyes. “There were no guards when your vesicle-thingie brought us,” she continued. “Maybe the same thing happened with Sirabetta?”

“No guard?” Flangelo chirped. “Oh, Phineas, care to meet our little guests?”

One of the fish from the reef came toward the dome wall. It was the red-and-white-spined fish that approached when Simon and his friends first arrived. As the kids stared, it swam straight for a spot on the dome a few feet above the ground.

Simon winced, expecting it to smack into the barrier. Instead, the fish plowed through without slowing down, bringing a beach ball-size globe of water into the dome with it. The aqueous ball separated from the dome and dropped to the sandy floor. The fish was entirely covered in this bizarre, reverse submarine.

Flangelo applauded lightly. “Good trick, isn't it? Every living organism is made of cells, and every cell uses something called
active transport
to take food or other objects in or out. Gilio designed the dome to work like a giant cell, complete with certain active transport sites. Ocean folk like Phineas get water-filled vesicles that let them move around in the dome's atmosphere. Air-dependent Order members get air-filled vesicles so they can go out among the fish. And you three get an express vesicle from the beach to this dome, with water jets propelling you at an extreme speed.”

The water around Phineas shimmered. The bubble expanded around the fish's various spines and bristles, forming thin arms and legs. The fish lifted its water-sphere—its vesicle—off the sandy floor and walked over to them.

Flangelo gestured. “Simon Bloom, Owen Walters, Alysha Davis, meet Phineas. He's a lionfish and one of our best guards.”

Simon reached out with one hand, anxious to see what the water-vesicle felt like.

Flangelo's hand whipped out and firmly grabbed Simon's arm. “Not a good idea, Captain Gravity.” He gestured to the watery limbs. “The vesicle-formula lets him make those pseudopods: temporary, fake limbs so he doesn't have to roll around in here. But those spines? Poisonous. There's plenty of surface tension around each vesicle to keep the traveler pressurized and breathing properly, but if you pressed too hard on Phineas's . . . let's just say your mission would be over real quick.”

Simon nodded and waved to Phineas. “Hi, there.” Alysha and Owen took several steps back at the mention of poisonous spines and waved, too.

Phineas's wide mouth barely moved, but one of the bristle-pseudopods waved. “Likewise,” he said in a gurgly voice.

“You can talk!” Owen gasped.

Phineas nodded—awkwardly, considering he had no neck; it was more like bowing his entire body. “Another of Keeper Gilio's great works.” His voice was slightly muffled from going through water and air.

Flangelo shrugged. “The Craftsmen's Guild and your dear Order of Physics probably helped Gilio with that, not that he'd admit it. Gilio likes to take all the credit.”

“Back to the deal with Phineas, though . . .” Alysha said.

“He's one of many ocean recruits watching the active transport sites,” Flangelo said.

Phineas performed another full-body nod. “No sign of anyone during my watch, nor any report from those before me. And if I do spot anyone, I will stop them.” The lionfish gestured with a pseudopod to the kids. “I am quite agile on these. Though I'm waiting for Keeper Gilio and his wondrous Craftsmen to make a faster vehicle.”

Flangelo whistle-laughed. “Like a bicycle!” There was no reaction from the others. “Never mind,” he said with a warble. “We'd better get going, Phineas.”

“Good-bye, friends of the Order,” Phineas burbled, and then he strode back to the dome. His water-vesicle, legs and all, merged back into the barrier, and he swam away casually, if such a thing is possible, to resume his sentry position.

“See?” Flangelo said as he led the kids in a new direction. “Nobody saw anything, so you can breathe easier; I'll bet that bleach-blonde isn't even coming here.”

Simon and his friends exchanged a look: they were not convinced. And if Flangelo was wrong, where in the dome was Sirabetta?

In a distant region of the dome, there was a segment of coral that was bleached white: dead. Something—or someone—had killed off that region, so no fish swam by it. No anemones clung to it. No crabs or shrimp scuttled along it. As you might guess, there were no aquatic guards patrolling that area, either.

Oceans creatures are often on the move, however. That's why nothing seemed odd about the manta ray. If you've never seen a manta ray, I highly recommend it—they're beautiful and elegant. And big—that's important. They resemble undersea stealth bombers: black (mostly), almost flat, and wide with huge fins—like wings—for soaring through the water.

Unlike stealth bombers, they also have large mouths framed with hornlike limbs . . . and no bombs. Manta rays are also known to be gentle to people; this one even had two humans attached to its underside. The two people—one a thirteen-year-old blond girl, the other a middle-aged man—were wearing wet suits and diving gear. They were covered in puffy, hardened sheaths that protected them from the terrible pressure of the deep ocean; a special harness kept the protective suits attached to the manta.

The duo's expressions showed their fear. Though manta rays are graceful swimmers, they're also very, very fast. Being strapped to the underside of one wasn't too different from riding an underwater roller coaster (though without the long lines or the overpriced churros).

The manta approached the dome and picked up speed. Mere moments before hitting the solidified water, the manta curled its wings in toward its belly, tucking the two people safely against its body. A split second before impact, a woman's hand within the dome reached up and rested, palm out, beneath the target area.

A circle of dome dissolved there, just in time for the manta to plunge through. In the split second it took for the manta and its cargo to come through, tens of gallons of ocean water came with them. The woman's hand remained on the dome, and oddly enough, the water cascading over her dissipated as it touched her. The moment the manta and its passengers were through, the dome wall repaired as if the hole had never been.

No vesicle formed around the manta to keep it safe inside the dome's atmosphere. Upon impact with the sandy floor, it tumbled forward and spread its wings. The two humans touched controls inside the protective suits, unhooking from the harness. They slammed to the ground, opened the sheaths from the inside, and rolled away from the manta as it writhed and gasped from lack of water and the sudden change in pressure.

The manta ray shimmered and vibrated before finally shifting into a tall, muscular man with spiky black hair. “Not pleasant,” he groaned. The harness, which had fit tightly across his manta-body, slid to the feet of his human form.

The girl stood and brushed the sand off her face. It should come as no surprise that this was Sirabetta. “Don't worry, Preto. If all goes according to plan, you'll never have to sneak in again.”

“Yes, Sir,” the muscular man said as he helped the middle-aged man—Willoughby Wanderby—stand up.

A woman with tightly curled dark brown hair rose from where she'd been crouching by the dome. She stepped forward, staring at Sirabetta. “Sir? Is that really you? What did they do to you?”

“Get over it, Krissantha. I got enough of that from Wanderby when he first saw me,” Sirabetta said. “Yes, I'm trapped at age thirteen. But not for long.” She rubbed at her arms and legs, now covered by a long-sleeved wet suit. She paused and looked at Preto and Krissantha. “Thanks for opening the dome, though,” Sirabetta said with hesitation, as if dealing with unfamiliar thoughts. She cleared her throat. “And Preto . . . good work bringing Wanderby and me down here. Pretty cool . . . I mean, well done, both of you.” She blinked and set her jaw firmly. “Now, let's get out of here before we're spotted. I have my real age to reclaim.”

Krissantha mouthed the words “
pretty cool
?” to Preto, who shrugged in response. They led the way along the sand while Sirabetta and Wanderby followed, hurrying to leave that area behind. They trekked through low grasslands and eventually passed into a region of jungle—that very jungle that Grawley the bear-man and his companion Kushwindro had been in earlier in this Chronicle. Krissantha escorted them through the thickly set trees and brush, seeming to follow no trail at all. Eventually, the dense vegetation gave way to a concealed cave.

“In here, Sir,” Krissantha said, waving the youthful Sirabetta in. The three adults had to duck down under the cave entrance. A narrow tunnel sloped down gently, and the headroom increased as they walked along until the tunnel let out into a large cavern. Sirabetta glanced around as the others stretched. “Cool hideout. Weird, but . . .” She cleared her throat. “This will do.” She folded her arms. “And Gilio won't find us here?”

Preto frowned. “Won't be looking,” he said. Clearly he was a man of few words.

“I wish that was still true,” Krissantha said. “Word's gotten around: three children with Physics powers got into a brawl with three Order of Biology members. A fellow who turned into a sparrow broke it up and dragged the children away.”

Sirabetta narrowed her eyes. “Bloom and his friends! The brats followed me!”

“Does that mean we have to relocate?” Wanderby asked.

Krissantha shook her head. “No, I think we'll be okay here for a while. The jungle is vast and thick, and
she
carved out this cavern without Gilio's knowledge. Kushwindro's using his vegetation control to cover our tracks. But it'll help to have some guards out there.”

Sirabetta nodded. “Set it up.” She paused. “Where is she?”

Krissantha gestured to the far end of the cavern. Sirabetta walked over to a small chamber formed from the rear rock wall. An ageless, pale woman with long white hair was waiting at the entrance.

“My, my,” the woman drawled. “How ever did you manage to do this to yourself?” she said, her tone making it clear she expected no answer. Though her face and hands were unlined, something about the way she spoke and moved made her seem as if she'd had many years of life. Experienced. Wise.

Sirabetta paused, staring at the woman for a long moment. “It's been a long time, old woman.” Her tone was cold, but her voice quivered with emotion.

“Yes,” the woman said. “But I'm here to make up for that.” She showed no nervousness around Sirabetta, yet there was something unreadable in her tone.