Foundation (20 page)

She just crossed to the next deckchair and slumped down on it, trying to catch the last sun.

Trumaine winked at the dolphin so that Maia could see him.

“
She won’t tell,” he said.

The dolphin chirped and made a circle just to please him, coming to Trumaine’s feet once again; he had other things on his mind—what about some fish?

Trumaine retrieved the bucket and flung the mackerel at the dolphin, who plucked at it eagerly.

When he had finished, Trumaine rinsed his hands in the channel, then slumped down on the second deckchair, next to Maia.

He had tried to mind his own business for a while, then he had turned to her and, with a casual voice, he had asked, “Is Aquaria better than this? Really? I can’t believe it.”

Maia turned her head, squinting to keep off her eyes the golden sunlight coming in horizontally.

“
Oh, Daddy, why keep asking, if the answer is always the same?”

“
You sure you’re not gonna change your mind?”

“
Is mother?”

He hoped this wasn’t another game of questions, it was something Maia played a bit too much lately, especially with him.

“
You ain’t Starshanna,” he said, exasperated.

“
I love it here,” she said softly. “The house. Arthur. It’s all just great. But Aquaria is another planet. It’s ... well, cool: over there, marine mammals are so huge they dwarf even our blue whales. Aquaria isn’t anything like Earth; it’s young, and raw. You know, it took Mommy and her staff two whole years to classify less than one percent of the fauna living in the ocean. Go figure, she needs all the help she can get.”

“
So you wanna go.”

Again, she exhaled and turned her head.

“
Don’t take it so hard, Daddy, I’ll be back soon—in six months, at most, I promise. You won’t even know I’m gone!”

“
Christ, six months at your age? When you’ll be back, I won’t even recognize you.”

“
Why don’t you come over, then?”

“
I’ve been at the Aquarian embassy. They don’t exactly give out first-class citizenship, huh?”

Trumaine stood with a scowl and went back to the kitchen.

That was the last time they had spoken about Maia leaving. She wouldn’t change her mind, she was going.

Being born on Aquaria, she was entitled to Aquarian citizenship; she would have no problem whatsoever of going to Aquaria or coming back to Earth whenever she wanted.

Trumaine knew he was taking all this the wrong way. Even if he was happy for Maia and he understood perfectly her decision, all the same, he felt confused. He knew it was going to happen, sooner or later. He had even helped her pack the cumbersome things she would bring with her. But as the hour of Maia’s departure drew closer, he realized he wasn’t prepared at all. He wanted to see her, he wanted to have her around some more. It didn’t have to be a month, a week would do, and now he would be contented to be with her just for one more day.

It wasn’t just the fact that he was going to be alone, he had grown used to that in the past. It was the craziness, the cheerfulness, the carelessness, the constant surprise and the color that surrounded Maia.

He could always go see them for a short period, yes, but it wouldn’t be the same thing as moving to Aquaria. That was his dream, but for that, he would need a goddamned citizenship.

The worst happened the following day. It wasn’t sudden and it wasn’t quick.

When the water was warm enough, Maia often swam a couple of times in the day—late in the morning and in the afternoon. Every time she did, the dolphin followed her.

That day, something had happened to Arthur; he wasn’t anywhere to be found. He wasn’t in the channel and he wasn’t in the stretch of ocean in front of the beach. Maybe some threat had distracted him, or maybe he had met a group of dolphins.

Anyway, he was gone.

Trumaine could remember Maia asking him why the dolphin wasn’t in the channel, wondering where he could be. She wanted to say good-bye to him, so she had gone looking for him.

It was fine with Trumaine, Maia had gone out so many times ... What should he worry about?

He was never completely sure about what happened in the following hour. He reconstructed the facts later on, when he was again capable of some rationalization.

Maia had jumped into the channel, swimming alongside the shore, wondering if something bad had happened to Arthur—if he had enough of her, if he had found the company of a female, if he was ill, or if he was dead. For the first time in her life, Maia was afraid she might have lost him.

She pushed farther and farther into the ocean. From time to time, she would stop swimming, pulling her head out of the water, calling out for him. But he wouldn’t answer. His tapered nose wouldn’t, all of a sudden, break the surface as he used to ...

By now, Maia had started to tire. She hadn’t realized yet that she had swum too far out. The weather was changing quickly, as it often does at the end of summer, when the colder westerlies take over the high-pressure zone.

In a matter of minutes, the ocean had become wavy and choppy, it had started to rise. Maia struggled more and more to stay afloat. She went under a couple of times, but she easily came up—she was a first-class swimmer, after all.

She looked left and right, hoping to see Arthur’s familiar dorsal fin, but she didn’t.

A blue roller came and took her, bringing her down. But she was still strong; she wriggled out of its cold fingers, emerging to the other side, coughing and spitting the water she had swallowed.

She had looked around once more and had realized with terror that she had pushed too far: the beach was but a very faint line in the distance. Quickly, she started to paddle back to shore ...

That’s when the dark-green rollers came, riding on, chasing after her. They multiplied and, suddenly, they were the cumbersome backs of a herd of playful humpback whales.

They caught up with Maia.

They played with her a game too rough; lifting her, submerging her, keeping her down, exhausting her to the point that she could hardly lift her arms.

A gigantic roller encased her in a mountain of black, churning water. Maia scrambled like mad, trying to get out from under it but, as soon as she did, another roller would replace the first, keeping on playing the deadly game.

Her palms and her feet struggled frantically, pushing aside the ubiquitous water, trying to get to the surface ... but her efforts were in vain. Wide-eyed with terror, the bitter taste of salt and defeat in her mouth, she screamed, but only bubbles came out from her mouth.

The water sucked her down relentlessly until, with a last spasm, she fainted ... When, at last, the ocean let go of her, Maia didn’t move anymore. Her body just bobbed lazily toward the surface.

It was only when Trumaine had heard the dolphin click excitedly from the channel that he had realized that something wasn’t quite right. He had come out of the house, stepping to the edge of the channel, looking for Maia, but Arthur was alone. Too late he saw that the ocean had turned.

“
Where’s Maia?”

The dolphin swam in circles, not understanding, every time coming at Trumaine’s feet.

“
Maia is gone!” he shouted. “Where is Maia? Find her! Find Maia!”

Trumaine pointed to the ocean and, suddenly, the dolphin seemed to understand; he whirled away and swam as fast as he could. Trumaine ran after him on the edge of the channel, until he was on the shore, but there was nothing he could do except watch.

He could glimpse the dorsal fin of the dolphin move around searchingly. Close at first, then farther and farther, cutting through the waves as quicksilver. Arthur’s fin had shrunk, becoming the tip of a pin, then he was gone. For a very long time Trumaine was frozen with dread, swearing and cursing himself for never having bought a speedboat.

It felt like hours, but only a couple of minutes had passed.

When Arthur had emerged again, there was something on his nose he was pushing. He swam fast, nervously jerking his head, trying to keep the bundle out of the water, returning toward the channel.

Trumaine ran after him until they were back to the patio.

He kneeled, reaching down, retrieving the limp body of Maia. She was cold and her skin was blue and she didn’t move. Trumaine rested her on the flagstones of the patio, rolling her aside, letting the water that filled her lungs flow out of her, then he had turned her up and had started to revive her.

Trumaine did never know for how much time he had pumped Maia’s chest, occasionally massaging her shoulders, always checking her face for a sign that she was still alive.

One hour later, when he had given up, he didn’t feel his arms anymore. He would later on, for the whole following week, when he thought that his muscles had been strung on meat hooks.

It was cold. A light, freezing rain had started to pour over all things. Trumaine felt dizzy, lost and bewildered. In moments, the pleasant, colorful day had turned to a livid sheet of iron, all its glory crushed to grief and despair—Maia was dead.

The ocean that was her life had taken life away from her.

Trumaine glanced up at the sky, looking for an answer, when everything around him started to spin faster and faster ...

Chapter Fifteen

Trumaine snapped his eyes open.

He was again in the safety of the believers’ chamber and he was panting. He swept his hand over his forehead and found that it was covered in sweat beads.

He couldn’t tell how many times that horrible dream had come to haunt him but, this time, it had been so vivid it had looked real.

He glanced at his arms. Even now, they felt heavy under the light Syntex fabric of his suit and his muscles were overworked, as if he had really used them.

Maia’s body had been heavy as hell and her cold, lifeless limbs had the consistency of real flesh; he had felt the cold wind blowing from the sea, the freezing raindrops that had chipped away at him and he had tasted the salt of his own sweat ...

Trumaine swallowed hard. He sat up and massaged his temples, trying to forget the dream.

Around him, the believers floated peacefully, minding their own business. The group of believers looking for the Hibiscus were still in their corner, a sign that they hadn’t found it ...

Focusing on something else didn’t work—he still couldn’t get Maia out of his head.

He had often thought about that day and he had wondered: if he had forbidden her to go, if he had followed her, would she still be alive? The idea that probably she would drove him mad.

Trumaine cursed himself one more time for not realizing before about the madness that what was growing before his very eyes. There was so much he could have done to stop it ...

He glanced toward the gallery gate and saw a man in a white suit approach, sitting on the couch opposite from him. He knew the man, he wasn’t one of the believers.

Benedict looked up at him, studying him.

“
Have you found anything, Detective?”

Trumaine shook his head. “Nothing yet.”

Benedict nodded sadly. When he spoke, his voice sounded less businesslike and more informal, friendly even.

“
I took the liberty of talking to your captain, Detective,” he said. “I take Captain Firrell is a good friend of yours.”