City on Fire

portable radio in its padded black plastic case and slings the strap over one shoulder. Statius joins him, gripping his gun. Cornelius looks back at Romus.

“Can you give me cover?” he asks.

Romus speaks without opening his eyes. “I’ll do what I can. There’s not much plasm here.”

The two guards open the hatch that leads to the back passage, hop over the sill, and slam the hatch shut behind them. A nearby explosion shifts the barge under Aiah’s feet, and soft white plaster rains down from the ceiling.

Aiah feels warm blood dripping down her scraped shin. She looks down at herself, at the neat suit, white lace, pumps, torn hose. This is the most ridiculous outfit she can imagine for a battle. She turns to Romus.

“Can I help?” she asks. “Can I do anything?”

Romus just gives a brief shake of his head. The sound of battle outside has increased, weapons rattling like a continuous storm of hail. Aiah decides she might as well get out of her absurd clothing, and yanks open the door to her private room. She kicks off her pumps, grabs the jumpsuit she arrived in, and pulls it on over the clothes she’s already wearing. There’s an unpleasant baggy lump in her crotch where the skirt has wadded up, but she feels a greater readiness now that she’s no longer dressed for a business meeting, and no longer so conspicuous.

She closes the jumpsuit up to the collar, over the ivory necklace, then pulls on a pair of boots and slams down the metal clips—she has to hit them with her fist because her fingers are trembling too hard to work them properly. Explosive compression waves slap the barge, rain plaster down.

“Miss? Miss?” Romus’s voice. Aiah jumps into the other room, sees Romus’s fierce yellow eyes staring at her. “Yes?” Aiah says.

“Your guards want me to tell you this: Statius is broadcasting the pickup signal, but he hasn’t got an answer. That doesn’t mean they’re not hearing it at the Palace, it just means the receiver isn’t placed well enough to catch any reply.”

Aiah nods her understanding. Adrenaline is making her teeth chatter, causing sweat to pop out on her forehead. There’s nothing she can do.

Romus continues, voice rapid. “There are mages attacking, and I’m running the plasm batteries low fending them off. Soon this shielding is going to be breached. Your guards say that you need to get into the water and start breathing off that apparatus and wait for pickup.”

Aiah gives another frantic nod. “Yes,” she says. “I understand.”

“Now, miss.”

She nods again, then realizes that, despite her intentions, her feet are somehow not moving toward the water. She makes them move and runs to the hatch, tears it open, steps through into the low corridor behind.

“Close it, miss.”

“Ah. Right.” Aiah stops, reverses herself in the narrow space, pulls the hatch shut. Then she runs along the corridor, tries the hatch leading outside, and finds it won’t open. She slams her shoulder into it; pain jolts her body, and she realizes the door is locked. She claws at the bolt, throws the door open, and then there is the flash of an explosion that lights the hallway from the outside, and all the electric lights die. The mad sound of sirens fills the air, monsters calling their kin. Tracer bullets flash by in the dark, making snapping sounds like a whip, and glowing off every surface is the rolling red glare of fires. Aiah huddles in the doorway as terror scrapes her nerves, hands clenched on the doorjamb, with no intention of ever letting go.

I’m sorry, she thinks, / can’t go in that water.

Then an explosion rocks the barge and Aiah finds herself pitching forward. The lurch unlocks her hands, lets her tumble through the doorway. Deck plates bite her palms. Bullets snap overhead. The pipe clamped to the side of the barge reflects silver-red fires, and Aiah can see it plainly. She crawls madly for the pipe, clutches it, pulls herself to it. The water below flares with reflected fire. Aiah takes a breath, kicks her legs, and tumbles off the barge.

The freezing water stops her heart for a long, shocking second. The taste of salt floods her mouth. She flails out for the pipe, finds it, pulls herself down its length. She can hear, louder even than the explosions, the whine of high-pitched screws.

Aiah finds the apparatus hanging there, fumbles in the darkness for a length of hose… She finds it, reaches frantically along it, finds the second-stage regulator and mouthpiece at its end. She jams the rubber mouthpiece in her mouth, blows out to clear the regulator, inhales… nothing.

Nothing. No air. Terror fills her lungs instead. She’s going to drown! She flails for the surface, all frantic panic motion, and somehow manages to rise instead of sink. She breaks the surface, splashing, mouth gasping in air. Sirens and battle sounds fill her ears. Fire boils up all around her. In the confined space beneath the platform overhead, the air is filling with smoke. Aiah coughs, sees the pipe nearby, clutches at it. Thoughts whirlpool in her mind.

It’s a catastrophe. The mission’s gone, she’ll be killed or captured, and there’s no air in the tank. This last treachery, the thoroughness of the way fate has betrayed her, leaves her numb.

A concussion passes through her like a wave, blows the air from her lungs. She looks up at the slablike side of the barge and wonders how she’ll get back aboard. If she stays in the water she’ll freeze or drown.

The valve. The thought comes to her head unbidden.

The air tank, she realizes, has plenty of air. But its valve was turned off so that the air wouldn’t drain away through any minor leak in the connections. All she has to do is turn the valve on and she’s got at least an hour of air.

Falling debris splashes water near her. Aiah drags in air, fills her lungs, then shuts her eyes and plunges underwater again. She finds the diving gear, gropes for the valve handle atop the tank, and gives it a yank. Then she reaches for the regulator hose, finds it, pulls on it hand over hand until she finds the regulator. Her teeth clamp down on the mouthpiece and she blows out, clearing the regulator, then inhales…

Air. Sweet air. She feels a moment of indescribable bliss as the dry pressurized air touches her palate.

Aiah floats in the frigid, buoyant darkness. High-speed screws sing in her ears. Detonations slap at the water.

Red light seeps down, touches her eyelids. She opens her eyes, looks up at flame. The barge is on fire and has become very bright. She wonders if Dr. Romus is trapped inside, if Statius and Cornelius will manage an escape. She looks around her, sees the diving gear hanging on a hook. Had Cornelius said there was a mask here?

Aiah reaches out and finds the mask, pushes floating hair back from her face, and puts the mask over her face. She tries to remember her brief lessons months ago, then presses the mask hard to her forehead and exhales through her nose. The water in the mask bubbles away and suddenly she can see quite clearly.

The water is very bright, almost as bright as day. The barge is a huge shadow above her, and she can sense other shadows nearby.

There is a splash, a rush of bubbles. It is one of the half-world’s inhabitants, a little goggle-eyed man. He swims with apparent ease beneath the surface, his big eyes like a pair of headlamps. He swims past her strongly, a line of little bubbles trailing from his mouth, and his eyes roll toward her. He watches her expressionlessly as he swims past, his adaptation to the aquatic environment much greater than hers, then kicks on into the darkness.

A line of bullets rips the water over her head. Aiah watches the bullets hit the water in a fury of bubbles, then lose their momentum and spiral harmlessly past her. The fighting, she thinks, is getting very close.

There is another splash overhead, another figure striking the water in a burst of bubbles. It is one of the stonefaces, mouth open, eyes agape. He drifts downward in a cruciform shape, arms wide as if to embrace the water. A thread of blood trails from his mouth.

Dead, Aiah thinks, and then, Davath!

She bottles up a scream at the bottom of her throat. She flails as she drags on the buoyancy harness, fighting the tangle of straps. A whole family of goggle-eyed twisted swim by, mom and pop and two curious children. The lead weights in the harness pockets try to drag her to the bottom, so she inflates the air pockets in the harness until her buoyancy neutralizes. Then she kicks off her boots and puts on her fins.

As she handles these routine tasks, her breath returns to normal, her heartbeat slows. But then the barge gives a huge lurch. The pipe kicks up and hits her in the face. An explosion batters at her ears. A surge of bubbles blinds her, and suddenly the pipe is tilting up, bringing her close to the surface.