Heartside

Solar, suddenly annoyed with her sister's flatteries, dragged Muemen away, back to the Dock-house.

"Really, Muemen, you need a deck-hand. They say the biggest Jiggers live in the deep waters and they don't call this Bottomless Bay for nothing. One of these days..." and she let her voice trail off.

Muemen looked into her eyes and the whirl of emotion there confused and frightened him.

"Thanks," he answered, turning away, "for the kindness. Tell Tom I said so, too." And with that, he snatched out his knife and got to the gruesome work of carving up the Jigger. Solar stood watching angrily as, surprising to Muemen, Mary snatched out her small blade and hopped over to help him.

"I'm leaving," Solar said coldly.

Mary, who had already sliced a clean line from the anus to the first small fin and rammed her thin arms in up to the elbows, pulled some ten feet of lower intestine out with a gruesome plop and held up her bloody hands. "I'm staying," she said cheerfully.

Solar cast an icy glare at Muemen, who pretended not to notice as he busily peeled back the tough black skin and muscle from bone, tendons popping.

"I'll bring her home," he said. "You yourself said I need a deck-hand."

Solar stamped her foot furiously and stormed away in a whirl of blond hair, stopping only to purge her belly before speeding off in the old canary-yellow inflatable with a small grav-pulse off-board motor that Tom kept running for the use of his children.

Hours later, Muemen and Mary sat on the western dock with their feet in the water, finishing the last of the punch and watching as the setting sun filled the air and clouds above the blood red ocean with hazy streaks of crimson, vermilion, maroon. Londorox and others of the shoal tickled their feet playfully and performed lazy, slow rolls in the waters before them. Muemen could not be sure, but he thought they showed a particular fondness for Mary, and he said so.

"Father says it's because they love salt, and I've got salt in my veins. Or perhaps because I spend so much time in the waters of the Dobby Bay, which are saltier then out here," she replied, stroking Londorox head with her small, pruned feet.

"So what of it? Are you my new deckhand?" he asked her, finally. He knew she could out-swim himself, and Muemen was amazed by her knowledge of the innards of the Jiggerdarts, as she had corrected him on several parts and their functions. She was quick, eager, and Londorox appeared to be in love. Mary looked up at him slowly with big, soft, blue eyes, clear and glowing like the Pyfins. "I'd pay you, naturally," he added.

Muemen watched her slowly mull the idea over and warm to it, until she was blushing obviously and nodding. "If father allows it, I'll be here early each day."

Muemen blew out his cheeks and passed the last of the punch for her to throw back. "Old Tom is a good man. He'll allow it. In fact, it's getting late. We had best get you home, and I'll have a talk with him."

So they cleaned up, boarded the PulseForce, and this time Muemen strapped his Spitter to his thigh, to which Mary made no comment, simply seating herself near the prow and gazing off towards the first stars of night. All the way back, try as he might, Muemen could not help but to admire her. She was young, but with each passing year she emanated a brightening aura of vitality. More then once she caught him looking, and she only smiled quizzically and looked away.

They docked at Rundey Farm, and Tom came out with a bottle of green menthe in hand. He looked somewhat angrily from Mary to Muemen as she wobbled past him into the Rundey's three-story deckhouse, smiling dumbly and somewhat tipsy. Muemen, unsure how sober old Tom might be and forgetting about the gun on his thigh, stayed back near the main dock and his skiff. Tom came to him, slowly, his wily, wrinkled eyes boring into Muemens own, trying to sniff out any ill-intent; but Muemen had assured himself that his admiration for Mary was innocent, based on her abilities, and by the time Tom had reached him, the air between them was amicable again. Tom passed him the bottle and he bowed gratefully, took a long, painfully sweet and minty swig.

Tom asked: "Twenty-feet? Or was Solar exaggerating?"

Wincing to swallow the strong liquor, Muemen nodded.

"Biggest I've ever seen was that one that took your poor father. And that old beast Londorox helped? I've never heard of a Pyfin attacking a Jiggerdart, or anything else."

Muemen smiled. "He's a clever old lad. I couldn't run Heartside without him," he said, then remembered his agreement with Mary, and brought it up as a hypothetical. Tom snapped him another suspicious glance, but he knew his daughter was as able a deckhand as any around, maybe more so, and his first question was perfectly Rundey.

"How much will you pay?"

Muemen smiled and ruminated, looked away as if he would find the answer on the night air. "I am not a rich man," to which Tom rolled his eyes and began to turn away, "but, I could manage seventy..."

"Eighty," Tom said flatly.

"...eighty bills a week for her time. She must transport herself to and from work, bring her own gill, but this is all. Any other equipment she might need I can supply. Meals and minor expenses will be considered as part of her pay."

Tom threw back his head and took a long, hard pull on the strong smelling bottle. He belched, chuckled, and spit in the dirty, callused palm of his thick hands.

"You're practically stealing my best deckhand, but Peter can pick up the slack. It's a deal."

After helping Tom finish the bottle of strong, biting mint liquor, he was set aboard his skiff and sent home with few jars of preserves from Sarceny and a reeling head. He'd drank more liquor today than any day he could remember, and luckily there was little between him and home in the way of obstacles. By the time he passed Ratoi, the quickly cooling night air had him half-sober, and he eased only somewhat clumsily into the main dock. As he secured the line of his skiff, he heard a quiet thump from the main deck. His nerves tingled- it was too late to be the Rundey girls.

He snatched his StormSpitter, sleek-looking in design but heavy as can be and difficult to aim, free from its holster and snuck over to the window. This time he simply pushed the curtain aside and peeked in: it was empty. He snuck past and peered around the corner cautiously. There, by the Juvenile tank, was a man in a black wet-suit which covered his every feature. From his belt Muemen saw hung a gun, a knife, and a several small containers, which undoubtedly contained some number of the Heartside eggs and fry. For a fact, he thought, this may be the tall driver from the SnappyFuture Company, come back as a thief in the night.

Muemen stepped out from behind the deckhouse. "Stay where you are."

The thief froze, dropping the net which he'd been using to fish the fry into the small containers at his waist. Suddenly, he flopped to the deck, narrowly dodging the blazing blue beam of Muemen's gun, and rolled into the water with a loud splash. Muemen threw his weapon into a pile of curled cable as he dashed across the deck and dove into the dark waters after him.

It was blackness below the surface. At first he could see nothing but radiant moon beams lancing a few feet into the water's surface, but nothing else. Then, below and to the right of him, he saw three angry, glowing blue eyes he recognized as Londorox. He swam with deadly, cutting speed, knife between his teeth, and as he neared he saw his prized Pyfin lose its grip on the thief's shoulder as he retreated through a new, even larger whole then the Jigger had cut just days before. His Pyfin, even Londorox, would not leave the confines of the Womb, but Muemen sped through, the hole's edges flapping in the sea currents.

He came through hot on the thief's furiously kicking heels and managed to slash one of his ankles. The thief turned, bringing his own blade to bear and the two grappled desperately in the inky, bottomless black waters some thirty feet below the womb.

As he struggled for his life, Muemen realized he had forgotten his gill, and his air was running out. He curled his legs up between their grasping forms and kicked the thief with both feet hard and deep in the belly, and the man's gill popped out of his mouth from the impact; a small thin membrane floating in the water. Muemen reached it first, kicked the clawing, slashing thief aside again as he put it in his mouth, expunged the excess water through his lips and swallowed hard. With the gill in place, he was suddenly able to breath again, and he attacked the now-frightened and fleeing pilferer with new vigor. They were by now some forty feet below the womb, and the pressure was noticeably unpleasant, but he would not be deterred.

Suddenly, Muemen made out a shape in the darkness below them; something blacker then black, long and writhing. He knew instantly what it was. The other man had not seen it, but Muemen noticed it change course suddenly, veering up towards them. It was huge. He couldn't estimate the length, for its tail trailed off into the void, but just by the terrifying girth of its head and body and the great, chipped and bony spike sprouting from it's head, it might well be the biggest Jigger in the sea. Muemen practically swallowed his gill in terror, abandoned his small knife and thrashed for the surface. The thief stopped, looked at Muemen in surprise, and was gone before he knew what happened; he was impaled on the monster's horn and swept away like a leaf on a fast-moving breeze to the lightless depths of Bottomles Bay.

Muemen, barely able to see and hoping he was headed up, hit the womb so hard and fast he was nearly knocked unconscious. Head smarting, he somehow found the hole and slid back into the womb. He did not pause when he surfaced, instead grabbing his suture gun and salve and diving straight back down. He stapled the hole shut and applied the disinfecting salve in a frenzy, any minute expecting a ten foot, still bloody horn to pierce through and destroy him. It never came, though, and once back on deck he collapsed for many long minutes, exhausted. As he lay there, he saw images of thousands of giant terrors like the Jigger he had just seen, waiting, watching, dormant beneath his very home, and it scared him near witless for he could think of no protection against beasts like that.

He remembered the Jigger blood he had collected. Suddenly on his feet again, he raced all around the edges of the womb in his skiff, filling small, floating leech-sacks that would slowly drain their contents into the waters. The chill night air was already beginning to warm when he returned. Tired beyond reason, head splitting from so much alcohol, and with no more precautions he could think to take, he was asleep before he landed in his hammock.

**********

Muemen awoke and found the midday sun blazing through his thin curtain. He covered his aching eyes with a hand and groaned. The mad events of the night before were a dream, about blackness and death. The details were clouded by liquor and fear. He lay swaying in his hammock, rubbing his eyes, trying to remember, but soft footsteps and a voice from the main deck brought him to his feet quickly.

It was not impossible that, when their agent did not return, the HappyFuture Co. might decide to send one, or possibly several, more. Muemen cursed himself for again leaving his gun beyond his reach, but when he cracked open the door of his deckhouse and peeked outside, he immediately recognized the small wet prints criss-crossing his deck as Mary's. He sighed with relief and went out.

He found her laid on her belly at the edge of the juvenile womb, peering in.

"Good morning," she said cheerfully as he approached. He grunted in response and retrieved his gun, still shielding his eyes from the hot sun.

"How long have you been here?" he asked, noting the yellow inflatable parked at his north dock, and wondered to himself if Solar was about. Mary watched him with a smile and quizzical look in her clear blue eyes, but made no remarks on his unseemly manner.

"I rose near dawn," she answered," and arrived not long after. I've skimmed the eggs and fed the fry, made a round with the stimulant. I couldn't find your suture-gun, or I'd have fixed the sloppy job you made of that big tear, but I put on a new batch of salve. If you show me where you keep the gun, I can get to it right away."

Muemen shook his head. The image of Mary at odds with a that great Jigger did not ease him. "I'll do it. You've done a good job already. I think I left the gun on the womb-floor somewhere. Londorox can find it for me."

"Do you always leave your tools in the womb?" she asked him. "Also, you left your egg and fry wombs uncovered overnight. I was counting them just now, and I fear some may have been lost to gulls or tartans. Two or three particularly lively ones I noted yesterday are gone. You should really be more pragmatic."

Muemen took the remark with a wry half-smile. "Indeed I should. Last night was somewhat unusual." Mary laughed and bounced to her feet.

"Father seemed 'unusually'grim this morning, too. Did you know three of your best females have gryp?" Muemen shook his head. "If you give me the money, I'll run to Dobbyton for medicine, and food. It's far past lunch." (Gryp- an eye disease common to Pyfin)

And so, after taking what little moneys Muemen had at hand with her, Mary was away towards Ratoi. She turned along the south shore, Muemen noted, just as he often did, and was headed for Jigger Bay when he lost sight of her.

Three of his older females and, he found, one of his youngest, indeed had gryp, and he found himself thankful for a deck hand for the first time. Londorox found his suture-gun and he repaired the poorly sealed hole. Last nights events were now fresh and clear again. Never had he seen such a monster as the Jigger that, in retrospect, may have saved the Pyfin farmer's monopoly. He wondered how many of that size actually existed, and also for the first time truly considered relocating the Heartside Farm to shallower, safer waters. It was a costly and lengthy procedure and Muemen's father had always sworn that the deep waters were the best for farming.

In the end he found he could not decide, and he surfaced as Mary returned. Together, they administered the gryp medication. Again, Muemen was impressed with Mary's apparent knowledge and skill with biology. In the wild, the Pyfin females lay eggs by the dozen on long reeds of sea-vegetations that grow in the warm, shallow waters; but on the farms, it had been found that lengths of green plastic chain, hung from beneath the dock, would work as well. At Heartside, the egg-chains hung from the north and south docks, long and narrow and extending far from the main deck. Pyfin bred year round, and if not cleaned regularly the chains became choked with eggs and the smell attracted Jiggers. Mary showed a skillful, delicate hand here, too, as they carefully scraped the eggs from the forest of swaying chains.

A heavy thump echoed through the water that Muemen recognized as a boat making dock. Mary shot him a sharp glance. He signaled her to stay and keep working, and headed up.

He pulled himself on deck, expecting Tom come to check on his daughter, but found instead the heavily-built, angry-faced man, Mr. Gamble, docking a tiny boat. Muemen noted that this time he was alone, and before he came striding across the deck with a hand outstretched in greeting, he scrunched his face up into something resembling a smile. Muemen hacked up his gill noisily into his palm and with his other hand he picked up his gun from the deep coil of soft-cable rope. The man, still some ten feet away, dropped his hand and his smile simultaneously and stood glaring.

His eyes were like little pits of coal. His thin hair was greased across his sloping forehead above the heavy brow. The nose looked as if it had been broken and never fixed. And the thick lips seemed to sag into a grimace from sheer weight. Everything about him was unpleasant to Muemen, and something in the mans posture rang of menace.

"Where's Smith." It was a demand, not a question. Muemen laughed.

"So that's the thief's name. He was a fin, that one." (Fin- local slang for a fast swimmer)

"Where is he? Man's got a family. Have a heart, kid."

Muemens face went stony and cold, but his eyes sparkled as he spoke.

"If your thief has not returned to you, I fail to see how it's any of my concern."

Mary, who had been hiding in the water, listening at the docks edge, suddenly hauled herself on board and laughed, her voice clear and cold as Muemens expression. "Can't say we wouldn't be too happy about it, though," she added.

The big man stood staring from one to the other, blinking stupidly.

"I will report this to the Port Authority," he said.

"Report what?" Muemen replied.

Mr. Gamble had no answer, and Mary laughed again. He turned and boarded his newly rented grav-pulse dingy that skimmed slowly away.

Mary advanced on Muemen.

"I knew it! That's where the new hole in the womb came from, and the missing fry!" He turned away and headed for the deck house, and Mary was hot on his heels. "Did you kill him? Did he escape with any eggs or fry?"

Muemen turned and stared at her. She gazed back somehow cool and hot at once.

"No," he answered, "a Jigger sniffed him out." He turned and headed for the deckhouse again, calling over his shoulder: "Be here bright and early tomorrow. I don't normally sleep so late."

And thus he left Mary to fume on the deck, till she boarded the inflatable and headed for home.

**********

She arrived almost ludicrously early and was working before Muemen woke, yet again. He could only laugh when he found her skimming the eggs, and she flashed icy blue eyes at him. He noticed, though, that his egg-womb was already more then a quarter full. With Mary on hand and thinking to do all he could to avoid the Jiggerdarts, he decided to begin taking his yield in daily. Mary watched with a strange expression as, after she had finished, he moved the eggs to a single sack and hopped aboard his skiff.

In Jigger Bay, he slid to a halt. The sun was still filtered by the rising morning mists above him; the waters were clear as glass. Some twenty-feet below, the bay floor was made of porous volcanic rock, part of the ever-moving front of an active underwater forest of volcanoes to the west. The young, small Jiggers dug their breeding tunnels with their horns here, and the charcoal floor of the bay was dotted with thousands of them. Only a few other creatures survived in the shallows here: a sort of rock crab that could not be pierced; perfectly flat fish that could not be distinguished from the black lava rock, and preyed on the Jigger eggs, and so forth. The waters here could be dangerous, for a hundred small Jiggers can be as deadly as one large one. More than one foolish off-world fishermen or tourist had fallen in these waters and been killed by hundreds of tiny punctures.

Even now, Muemen could see them swerving in ravenous packs in and out of the tunnels, chasing each other in some baffling mating dance. Muemen wondered what the caves of the big ones must look like- if there were many of them there would be areas like this deep down, riddled with huge mazes of Jiggerdart tunnels, probably miles long.

He shook his head in wonder and steered his skiff out of the bay and on to Dobbyton. He pulled into the dock of Bahdin's shore-side shop, went inside, and found no one on hand. With a shrug he left his sack hanging from the yield hook and walked to The Carbony Crab.

It was nearly empty inside save a few old regulars, and to Muemen's surprise, Peter Rundey. He had never known Peter well. He was quiet where his father was loud, staring with large eyes while Tom squinted always; some said he heard voices, which he tried to drown with liquor. Muemen didn't know, but he seated himself next to Peter at the bar. He was not entirely surprised to find him somewhat intoxicated at such an early hour.