Aquasentinels Alyson and Lam swam through the central channel, perplexed at finding it so empty. On such a fine day, the waters should have been bursting with technoquatic energy. With the temperature just about perfect, so it would stand to reason that plenty of full-gill and pleasure swimmers would be out.

  It was unfortunate they’d left themselves opened up to an issue since they’d been shut off from the city early warning system. Whenever major issues cropped up, there were systems of loudspeakers both above ground and below the surfaces, but for non full-gills there was an unfortunate middle ground. The normies, as some full-gill merfolk had taken to describe their bretheren, weren’t able to hear underwater over the sounds of their breathing equipment. And if they should surface, it would take time to strip down and get into normal street clothes, during which time they could easily miss announcements then, too.

  Of course, these two were aquasentinels of the city, and they had their own ability to keep abreast of what was happening in their city. While they had left their communications equipment behind in favor of a free-swim, they had emergency beacons on so as to keep in communication with aquasentinel headquarters as needed.

  When their beacon began flashing, they exchanged wary glances. A routine call? Or something worse? Only the second time did they decide to ascent to street level and see what the fuss was about.

  When they broke the surface and saw the brown wave heading in their direction, it didn’t immediately register. Something irregular, that much was certain. A mud wave, perhaps?

  The wave of muck that splashed over them was free of toxins, but clung to their skin and gear nonetheless. The smell was hardly pleasant, however, and it got everywhere. Including in their swimming equipment, which forced them out of the water and onto the street beside. All along the way, people were stopping to look, turning away with expressions of disgust on their faces. The waters began rising from the muck that contaminated it, and full-gills began spilling out into the streets as well. It was a dangerous situation they found themselves in, but there were emergency breathers located along each waterway so they could hold out for the time being, at least until some form of mass transport could be arranged back to their living spaces.

  Fortunately for the full-gills, most of their living spaces were located on higher ground. The under-street channels they used for commuting and recreation were seeping under the strain of contaminants, but the upper levels would remain clean. Assuming they could get up there.

  * * *

  Surging forward with all his might, Kyle fought to stay ahead of the sewage flood. He wasn’t particularly worried about his well-being. He’d swum through worse in the open ocean from time to time. Leftovers from the time of land-dwelling humans who used the oceans as their garbage dumps. He’d been unimpressed then, and he was not particularly moved by the filth now, but if he could put some distance between himself and the floors he’d be all the better for it when he got out of the city. Less of a mess to clean up at any rate.

  Kyle surfaced occasionally, grinning as he saw the city’s guards scrambling to contain the chaos he’d unleashed. His plan was working.

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  The guards of the city were moving inward, heading for the origin of the contamination, those ten or so pumping stations he’d made a mess of. They would have their hands and flippers full cleaning up that mess for some time. Although he was equal parts regretful and amused by the whole affair, he did consider it to be a necessary evil. He’d never have gotten out of the city if the entire guard force had been out looking for him as before. Now, at least, he had a chance.

  At the city’s edge, Kyle paused, weighing his options. A single wrong move could mean capture—or worse. Though the sentinel posts were still manned, he could see that they were looking back, curious as to what was going on in their city beyond. Kyle could attempt to power past them before the sewage arrived, or he could wait for the muck and try to float out with the garbage. Odds were the sentries would abandon their post when the filthy water struck, but he couldn’t be sure of that.

  He decided on a compromise. He would wait for the brown stuff to get there, then swim just ahead of it, hoping the sentries would be ducking out of the way by the time he reached their position.

  He had judged correctly. He kept just ahead of the brown wave, watching as the sentries hesitated before stepping away from the approaching muck, their expressions a mix of disgust and alarm. Their job was to monitor the ins and outs of The Shallows, not to act as plumbers, and they could close off the city gates from inside just as easily as out.

  He could feel the gates’ currents pulling at his tailfin, a terrifying riptide straight back into the city, but he powered through with a final burst of strength.

  He let out a laugh of joy at finding himself with leagues in which to stretch. He looked around at the fishes and sealife for a few moments, then back at the city that’d been such a glorious source of amusement. He felt a twinge of regret for the mess he’d left them, but at the same time, he was eager to get back home. Much as his wanderings occasionally took him far from home, it was never far from his thoughts. And on that front, he felt lonely for not having the chance to think with anybody for such a long time.

  He turned tail and flipped hard, away from the city. Swimming faster, feeling the streamline of water on his lithe frame, he powered for home.

  * * *

  Speaking with the custodial sector, the aquasentinels, and a reporter from the Sentinel Post, Mayor Danelia got a read on the situation. The renegade who’d prompted Orwen to call for all-out excavation had wreaked havoc citywide, destroying public property and alarming the citizenry, and leaving a number of full-gills displaced, their systems of mobility compromised for who knows how long.

  There wouldn’t be any swimming in the streets for some time, either. It would take forever to disinfect and scrub down all those channels. And the budget shortfalls might even bankrupt the already beleaguered aquatropolis.

  As she watched the city struggle under the weight of its newest disaster, Danelia’s thoughts drifted to Orwen’s scheme: the promise of geothermal energy, locked away in merfolk territory.

  It wasn’t the first time this was considered. Throughout the history of The Shallows, they’d attempted to open up relations with those mysterious beings. Thwarted at every turn—each attempt to gain a foothold drove them further away, retreating into the abyss until they were more myth than fact.

  But the mayor knew about them. And men like Orwen weren’t so rare. Plenty of advisors had whispered the geothermal notion into her ear, when the press wasn’t listening. But until now, she’d never had a proper excuse. Now that ‘they’d’ attacked her city, however…

  She called for her assistant. 'Get Orwen in here immediately.' As the assistant left, Danelia watched the repair crew through her window, their frantic work a grim reminder of her city’s fragility—and her opportunity to make them stronger than they’d ever been.