“Are you going to shut us down?” Michaela asked. “I saw how mad you were last night. Are you going to take it out on us?”

Kalico staggered under a gust that flapped her pants against her legs. “I thought about it. On the other hand, when people have made up their minds and won’t listen to reason, sometimes you just have to let them run headlong off the cliff. Maybe I’ve been spending too much time around these damned libertarians. Tell your people I said they’ve got their chance. Welcome to Donovan.”

With that, Kalico tossed her bag into the seatruck, grabbed the handrail, and hauled herself up into the cab. Without a look back, she dropped into the seat, telling Atumbo, “Now, get me to the beach. Fast as this thing can go . . . and remember that I’m in one hell of a bad mood.”

“Yes, Supervisor.” Atumbo powered up the fans, lifted them off, and eased out over the water. As he circled, and the tail wind sent them flying across the waves, Kalico got one last look back at the Pod.

Michaela Hailwood stood there, braced against the wind, looking small and defeated.

35

Since she had watched the seatruck vanish over the horizon, Michaela Hailwood had passed the morning in stunned relief. She had fully anticipated Kalico Aguila to give the order that would shut down the Maritime Unit. A Board Supervisor with marines to back her up, Aguila could enforce any decision she made. And she’d do it without remorse.

“She personally shot a couple of deserters,” Michaela reminded herself as she crossed the landing in level one and worked the upper hatch that let her descend the tube to the Undersea Bay. The story had been recounted several times during the Maritime Unit’s short stay in Port Authority. According to the Donovanians, Kalico Aguila was a woman that no one with sense messed with. And that included beasts like mobbers and quetzals.

A woman like that? Last night Michaela’s own people had figuratively given the Supervisor a slap across the face.

Michaela entered the pressure lock, cycled it, and stepped through into the brightly lit Underwater Bay with its gleaming submarines, equipment, workbenches, and cabinets. The open pool of water was perfectly still, reflecting the lights and walls above its translucence. She crossed the deck, aware of the small spots of teal-colored stuff on the floor. Yoshimura was crouched at the edge of the water, staring down at the coating of what looked like green-blue slime that clung to every surface at the waterline.

“What have you got, Yosh?”