“But surely you agree that your kind ‘screws up’ at a level unsurpassed by any other species. And many who ‘screw up’ aren’t in fact making a mistake at all. They do it purposefully, and generally for the sake of conquest.”

“Profit, really.”

“Same thing.”

“A million Undersea Folk running around the oceans eating all the raw fish they can get their hands on, and you guys aren’t causing any damage?”

“You did not know of our existence until this week.”

“Yeah, but every culture has mermaid legends. They sprang from somewhere, pal. People didn’t just pull the stories out of their asses. And you guys probably control those krakens that yanked all those seventeeth-century European ships into the water, killing—”

“I tire of this topic.”

“Tough nuts. We—”

“Ah, my boys,” Fred said with mock fondness. “What would I do without them? They’ve quit with testing each other physically, so now it’s debate, debate, debate. Kill me now.”

“You don’t get off that lucky,” Jonas muttered.

Fred was about to retort when her cell rang. Irritably she plucked it off her hip and flipped it open. “Yeah?”

“Dr. Bimm?” It was Dr. Barb. “I see by the sheet that you and Thomas are signing out the Lollipop today.”

Oops. “Yeah.”

“I think, in light of what happened last time, I feel strongly that—wait. I’ll come out.”

“But—” Fred was talking to a dead line. “Dammit. Good thing you’re here, Jonas. I’m going to need you to distract—”

“Good morning, Little Rika.”

“Hey, Fred.”

“Howdy, fellas.” She pulled Jonas to the side so the men could board the ship. “I’ll be right there.”

She turned to Jonas. “Okay, now it’s really good that you’re not coming.”

Jonas shrugged. “Who cares?”

“Jonas, whoever the bimbo is, forget about her! She’s obviously a moron of the highest order and you’re way too good for her. So put the bitch out of your mind and focus on me now, please.”

“Oh, it’s Fred time. Must be Tuesday. Or one of the other six days of the week.”

“Sarcasm does not become you,” she said stiffly. “And furthermore—”

“Hi, Dr. Bimm!”

They looked. Madison was scampering up the ramp, waving. She wore a peach-colored shell (did she have a closet full of them, in all different colors?) and khaki pants that showed her pubic bone.

“My God,” Jonas muttered. “I can see her five o’clock shadow.”

Madison screeched to a halt in front of them. “Hi, you guys! Are you going out in the ship?”

“Yes.”

“Can I come with? I can look for dolphins.”

“No.”

“Besides,” Jonas said kindly, “there aren’t any dolphins in—”

“Oh please please? I won’t be any trouble, I swear. You won’t even know I’m there!”

“That,” Fred said, “is a lie.”