Playing Koi (13) (Patreon)

A few more years passed. Jemma taught, watching fish that were hers and some that weren't get older and bigger and brighter. Some older members of the community passed, while another day came and went outside the aquarium. The city grew bigger, fought back more predators, and built a submarine so large they had to build a dock for it outside the wall. All the while Jemma endured, never changing, never withering while all around her wilted.

She lost another little fish to an accident with the harvesters, and another to an infection. She had a few more eggs—but like all the females of Algaegard, now she was chewing birth control. Instead of a dozen eggs, that year she had three.

One died right after he hatched, another side-effect of the drug. Another passed when the second great plague came to her home.

The girl who lived was the smallest and weakest of the bunch. Her eyes never worked quite right, and one of her arms ended in a malformed stump. Jemma spent sleepless nights swimming back and forth in front of her bedroom, agonizing over a trip to Thetria.

She hadn't learned magic, but she knew someone who did. There was a fish who could heal her.

Somehow, little Melody kept growing. She adapted to the prosthetic her parents made her with incredible speed, and became one of the very few fish of Algaegard to wear glasses.

Jemma would lay no more eggs after that, not after suffering so much pain. But she would protect the ones who lived, especially her youngest.

Melody got tall. She got smart too—a fish who was too weak to swim out and play with her older brothers and sisters had a long time to be at home reading. The workshop soon became her second home. When it did, Jemma gave up her job at the school. Brady was a better teacher anyway, it was time to use her hands again.

Besides, something about having Melody in the workshop with her reminded her of simpler times in Algaegard—before Arlo and Nicole moved away and started their own workshop. Before the city had money, or crime, or a fleet of submarines patrolling the waters for hundreds of miles in all directions.

The ocean was civilized now, predators never broke through and took anyone. But the city was too big for her to know every fish by name anymore. She was just another face in a growing crowd.

Melody darted between workbenches and shelves, her bright scales flashing as she retrieved wires and components. Jemma watched her go, hands twitching towards her whenever a fin got too close to the shelf.

She resisted. Few things could fall underwater fast enough to damage them. It meant more to show she trusted her daughter. No matter how anxious she became.

"Hand me the pliers, would you, Mel?" Jemma asked, looking back to the coil in front of her. The wires were dipped entirely in black lacquer, of course. To forget that important step would only be to discharge her device into the tank.

Melody whipped around the corner and offered the pliers with a flourish. "One pair of pliers, Mom. And the wire strippers too, you'll probably need those. And... calipers." She arranged each of them on Jemma's palm, in order.

As she spoke, her thick glasses tilted slightly sideways on her face. Jemma reached up with her free hand, nudging them up Melody's nose. "Always exceeding expectations."

Melody flushed, shifting her one good arm behind her. The prosthetic moved on its own now, with a few little glowing marks down the carved fingers. Arlo's handiwork. For that, she could never thank the goldfish enough.

She peered down at the coil, then at the sealed voltage regulator on the desk. The machine was almost entirely encased in resin, protecting its electrical components from the aquarium's short-circuiting embrace. "Whatcha' making?"

"Transmitter," Jemma said. "I need two resistors for this circuit—one here, and one here. Which ones should we use?"

Melody's brow furrowed. She dropped in low, stretching her tail out behind her and floating alongside the transmitter. She swam in a slow circle for a few more seconds. "Maybe... one kiloohm? That's an amplifier circuit. Dunno about the other one."

"That's my girl." Jemma patted her on the head. "Ten kiloohm on the other. Check the supply drawer for me?"

Melody swam off to obey. She dragged it out, then started rattling around inside it with her prosthetic. "It's because the submarine still isn't back, isn't it? That's why you're out here?"

Jemma froze, eyes darting back to the transmitter. She's too sharp for her own good. "You know I don't like to worry."

"But you always worry," Melody said. She swam back, holding a resistor in each hand.

They only tangentially resembled the component used in human electronics in the high and dry—if for no other reason than these were about as long as her arm. They used the same codes for the colored bands around them, though.

Melody set them down on the table beside Jemma, meeting her eyes. "It's the safest route on the whole salvage run. They'll be fine."

"They shouldn't be out with him," Jemma muttered, mostly to herself. She shifted nervously in place, rocking back and forth. "Liam's... grown. But my boys..."

"They're eighteen," Melody said. "Never let me forget it. Not sure how you could. How old until you won't worry?"

"Never," Jemma said. "Moms get to worry. It's... part of the job description. You'll see."

"Nuh-uh." She floated lower in the water, folding both arms across her chest. "A, boys are gross. B, they'd just slow me down. I'm not giving up time in the workshop to cook dinner or change diapers. No. Way."

Jemma brought her daughter into her lap, wrapping one arm around her shoulder. Melody could pretend to be as mature and grown-up as she liked, she still let her do it.

Some small part of Jemma was still bewildered by the sensation. Her oldest fish were only a few years younger than Jemma herself. The aquarium was exactly as Brady had warned her a lifetime ago—the natives got older, but humans didn't. Easier to see with her mate than her children, so far. Kids were supposed to grow up, but with Liam it wasn't fair.

"You might change your mind when you’re older. What if you find one who's as smart as you are? I can think of a few..."

The little white fish shifted, pulling her tail up in front of her. "Not any boys. Maybe Misty. I wanna ask her to work with me sometime. If she said yes, could she maybe help in here too?"

"Can you speak goldfish?" Jemma asked. "You know she—"

"I know!" She stuck out her tongue. "We go to the same class, Mom. Course I know how to speak it."

Jemma relaxed, letting the little fish squirm free of her grip. "I'll need to ask your father. But I'm sure he'll give permission."

"We'll be together every day!" Melody zipped around the table, swimming back to where she'd discarded the resistors. "Inventing things! Making stuff even you never thought to try! Until one day..." She stopped abruptly, reaching up to adjust her glasses. "What happens when we get older? Are you still gonna leave the aquarium?"

"I still don't know how," Jemma said. "And I wouldn't go if it meant leaving you behind. You're my favorite Melody in the ocean."

She stuck out her tongue again. "I'm the only one named Melody."

Jemma shrugged, turning her attention back to her work. This transmitter wasn't something Algaegard really needed—but maybe it would be, if it kept growing at the rate it was.

Jemma felt Melody nuzzle against her arm. "Daddy's the best," Melody said. "He'll bring them back."

Jemma nodded, her hands falling still on the transmitter. She didn't speak at first. But the stress, the fear—once she started, she was powerless to stop.

"You should've been born outside, Mel. In the real world. Maybe you'd be an astronaut, or cure cancer. Whatever you did, it would've been amazing."

Melody tilted her head to one side. "What's an... astronaut? You've never talked about those."

"They go to space," Jemma said, patting her back. "Humans sent them way up into the sky in a little aquarium full of air. They fly up so high they're above the planet, or maybe even farther."

"What's a planet?"

"Doesn't matter." She shook her head once. "Your brothers and sisters, they seem happy. Lily already has her first eggs. Richie has that delivery company he started. But you..." She reached up, running her fingers through Mel's long hair. Melody had never cut it, as though determined to grow it as long as her mother's. Unlike Jemma's, hers was stark white. Mel had none of her father's blue anywhere on her body.

"I would take you out with me if I could. Out there—through the glass, where those giants walk around in slow motion. I'd show you their world."

Melody wrapped her arms around Jemma's waist, her small body shaking with emotion. "I'll make you proud, Mom. Then you won't think about leaving anymore."

They kept at it for hours. Jemma had the easy part—Melody found and delivered every component, and sometimes even made helpful suggestions. She wasn't always right, obviously—but she learned a little more with each day.

Like knowing when to step away from the workbench, when your eyes got blurry and every new line of solder was sloppier than the last.

"Break time?" Jemma asked, rubbing at her eyes. "We should check on your older sisters, see if Liz is home yet—"

Melody stretched, her tail whipping back and forth. "Whatcha' making for dinner?"

The stress was wearing Jemma out; she'd happily eat flakes and algae paste if it meant not cooking. "I'll think of something."

She swam forward, gathering loose components and tossing them into their bins. She had to set the right example for Melody, or she might end up tossing things everywhere like her dad.

Before she could finish, a pounding on the door interrupted her.

Jemma froze, hands tensing on the basket holding her soldering gear. No one interrupted her in the workshop anymore. Liam.

She shot to the door, then shoved it heavily with her shoulder. "What's—"

Marlin floated in the doorway, his single good eye wide with terror. He opened and closed his mouth, struggling to speak. Gills flared, then relaxed.

"Marlin?" Jemma swam forward to meet him. Something was badly wrong, or why would he be here? "What happened?"

Marlin took a deep breath, his massive frame trembling. "Jemma. There was an accident. The sub is... gone."

"Gone?"

He shook his head. "Destroyed. Expedition swam back with the wounded. Most of them. Some were—" He paused, swallowing hard. "Liam is..."

Marlin trailed off. Jemma didn't wait for him to finish. She spun around, gripping Melody by the arm. Her youngest was trembling, her fins twitching rapidly in agitation. "Mom?"

"Melody, I have an important job for you. Swim straight to Nicole's place, okay? Get Arlo, and tell him to go straight to the hospital. Tell him to bring the stamps."

"Stamps?" She tilted her head to the side. "But I wanna—"

Jemma silenced her, resting one finger over her lips. "Now, sweetie. Don't stop for anything, okay? Straight to Nicole's. Okay?"

Melody rocked nervously back and forth. She reached up with her good hand, pushing her glasses all the way up her face. "Arlo. Stamps. Hospital. Got it."

"That's my girl." Jemma urged her out onto the street, before turning back to Marlin. "Ryan? Sean? My sons were on that expedition."

Marlin had no answer for her. Jemma didn't bother waiting for the old fish—she had somewhere to be, and fast.