Rhodoreef

40. The Smoking City

The sun climbed within view as EMS Valakula headed towards land at full sail. Dea gazed out at the ocean, shimmering orange to match the colors of the sky. She had retracted the viewport of the Flamingo, and the gusty wind now smacked her face. In the horizon, the clouds still persisted—puffs of grey that dimmed the sunrise.

The safe dock was apparently thirty kilometers south of the mangrove forest she ventured to a month ago. The urgency that hung over her stirred a sense of déjà vu, but she knew that what lay ahead would prove to be unlike anything she had ever endured. This unprecedented turn of events was akin to being tossed in a tempest, in which violent currents threatened to smother her.

"Hey," a deep female voice said to her left.

Dea started.

The captain leaned on the deck rail, eyes narrowed against the wind. "You okay there?"

She merely nodded.

"We'll make sure you get to Mora. It's scary, but—"

"It's not about me. There's so much that could go wrong and..." Dea shook her head. "When will we arrive?"

"Not long now."

"This safe house we're going to. What exactly is it?"

"It actually functions as a small-scale factory, which works as a good cover." Nadie's idle thumb flicked away at the binoculars that hung from her neck. "We employ some local residents and even have certification as a well-run community business."

"Oh, what do you make?"

"I think you need to know a bit about us Serendivians to understand its significance."

Curiosity bubbled up, nudging aside the anxiety. She fixed the captain with her full attention.

"We're heading to a town where people lead simple lives, and their main source of food and livelihood is catching fish," Nadie said. "This is true for most coastal towns and villages in Serendiva. Before the trawlers came, they only used these tiny canoes, and people lost their lives out there when the seas turned rough. Many of these communities still do that.

"From an eco perspective, this small-scale practice doesn't damage the oceans. But the population exploded, and one third of fish now go into feeding massive animal farming operations. Big business capitalized on demand, and the trawlers and processing plants cropped up. These small communities could not compete, and their livelihoods were disrupted—they had to venture further out to find fish and risk their lives. The ocean was always seen as an unlimited resource for exploitation, but now most of the fisheries are depleted—meaning, the loss of biodiversity is so great, we'd start seeing empty seas in mere decades."

The activity on deck receded into the distance as Dea sat unmoving. Ravi passed by just then, making her jump again.

"Ah, Ravi," the captain said, gesturing to him, "just the man we need."

He stopped and turned. His bearded face mirrored the seriousness that everyone aboard displayed. He appeared calm, but the way he shifted his weight wasn't lost on Dea.

"Ravi here comes from a fishing village. He grew up going out to sea in a canoe." Nadie's expression turned grave. "He lost his dad in a monsoon storm."

"That was a long time ago," he said quietly.

It was the first time Dea heard him speak. His speech was slightly different from Nadie's, which suggested a dialect.

"Dea wants to know what's being manufactured at Hunupetty," Nadie said.

"Oh, I see." He hefted the rope he was carrying to his other shoulder. "They make what's called tempeh karawala."