I don’t have an answer. The fact that Land Institute would develop a Leyden gun that causes unnecessary pain doesn’t surprise me, though.

The rest of our crew suffered only minor injuries. Franklin urges me to go to the sick bay so he can run some tests, make sure the poison is really out of my system. I assure him I’m fine.

He doesn’t believe me. Neither do Nelinha and Ester, but the last thing I want is to be confined in a small room belowdecks, attached to a bunch of monitors. I need open air and the sea. I need to watch Socrates swimming alongside our boat, happily chattering at me. After everything else that has happened today, my abduction has left me trembling with shock, terror, shame, and rage. Sea-snake venom isn’t the only poison I’m trying to flush out of my system.

The Cephalopods run around finishing Dr. Hewett’s alt-tech modifications. The pulse-dispersion unit is installed to block radar and sonar. Projection modules are fixed around the hull for dynamic camouflage. From the rail where I’m standing, I can’t see any difference in the ship’s appearance, but the Cephalopods look excited. They talk to one another breathlessly about specs and parameters like they’re discussing magic spells.

“Can you believe this?” Nelinha grins at me as she passes by. Getting zapped by Dru’s gun hasn’t slowed her down at all. If anything, it seems to have charged her batteries. Her smile fades, however, when I don’t respond. She rests a hand briefly on my shoulder. “You sure you’re okay, babe?”

Then her housemate Kay calls, “Oh, no way. Look at these phased-optics reaction times!”

And Nelinha is off.

She is the most caring friend you could ever want, but you have to accept that sometimes you’ll take a back seat to shiny new tech.

In a matter of minutes, the Varuna is underway.

We head due west. Socrates keeps pace with us easily. He and I talk as best we can, but as usual, it’s all questions and no answers.

I wish I knew how he found me, and whether he understands that Dev is gone. He can’t tell me these things.

No, that’s not correct. I know enough about dolphin intelligence and communication to know he is absolutely capable of telling me. Dolphin language is infinitely more complex and nuanced than human languages. It’s just that I can’t understand him well enough.

“Thank you,” I say to him, also using ASL to make my point more visual. “I wish I could repay you.”

He gives me his sideways dolphin smile. I imagine he’s saying, Yes, you owe me all the squid.

A voice behind me says, “I got upstaged by a dolphin.”

Gemini Twain leans against a capstan. His arms are crossed, his expression glum. His dark hair is flecked with sea salt.

“My one job was to protect you,” he tells me. “I’m sorry.”

I’m tempted to snap I don’t need a protector. But he looks so depressed I don’t have the heart for it.