“Cursed Stringers!” bellowed Dekies, hitting a command on the side and punching the display below it. Aptat went tense and assumed a wide, vigilant stance as the dredge powered down. From my vantage point I could see the articulated arm pop free from its housing between Aptat’s shoulder blades.
The lid opened in sections and Dekies pulled Naecia out. She was conscious, barely, eyes unfocused. Limp. Instinctively, I looked to the spiracles just under her ears to gauge the strength of her breathing. In underwater animals, they become languid, failing to fully open and close when death is near. Hers still cycled powerfully. She was stunned; worn out, but not dying – if the clues I was taking from her space physiology correlated at all with the creatures of Earth.
My face was shoved into the vertical opening in my chamber, hands pressed to the glass on either side. Dekies dragged Naecia back to her cell, propping her into a seated position against the glass, and then returned to the dredge. On the upturned lid was a complex network of shapes colored in the heat-orange of dying embers. It was a jumble to me, meaningless, indistinguishable from any other random assortment of geometrical vomit.
Dekies folded the lid down and considered it. Shaking her crowned head, she said, “Three distinct separations here.”
“Exactly what you asked for,” said Aptat. “Proof she can reach the third prior. That’s where the secret lies.”
“Ah, but she slipped the cord.”
“And held on.” Aptat walked to Naecia’s chamber, lecturing Dekies. “You can’t control anamnesis.57 It goes where it goes. Let us hope – for the sake of your bank account – that she didn’t hit the Fray.” Aptat knelt. “What did you learn down there, Naecia?”
One hand grasping her necklace, she slumped against the glass of her chamber, watery eyes blurring out at some vague spot only she could see. Aptat took hold of her wrist, gently, imploring her to surface.
After a moment, they let go and stood. “I hope she recovers. But it’s no longer my concern is it?”
“Did she hit the Fray?” asked Dekies.
“No. But she came close. Deepest I’ve seen.” Aptat glanced back to Naecia, then to Dekies, and shrugged. “A risk you willingly took.”
Dekies jutted her chin, forcing the rebreather out like a second mouth. “Who could have known she’d be so weak? Sixty is what we will pay,” said the Vortu, pointing imperiously at Aptat. “And that, only because we have a business relationship. I believe she possesses what knowledge you say, but the odds are even that we don’t retrieve it before her mind collapses.”
Aptat sneered. “You knew the price. You set the intensity of the dredge.”
Dekies shrugged. “Sixty is what we brought.” Then, sweeping a hand over the trunk. “It’s all registered. Take it. That’s a fine haul for you. Or – we can kill you, take her, and keep the guush. What do you say?”58
“I’d say you’re a cheat.”