Of Poseidon 02: Of Triton

north side, a bit more inland than I’d thought. The Trackers and I supplement the efforts of the dolphins and sharks.
    I realize belatedly that sending sharks to the aid of humans is a stupid idea. When one of the men tries to kick a tiger shark in the eye—and how could I blame him?—I tell the sharks to retreat. They’ve done all they can do, and I won’t let them be abused for their efforts.
    After a few more minutes, I see a small, chubby pair of legs struggling nearby. The owner of the legs can’t be older than a toddler. I scoop him up and keep him at the surface. He’s adorable really, with rounded cheeks and a snotty nose and brown eyes with lashes that would make a supermodel jealous. Close to us, a woman who I assume is his mother is crying frantically and calling out to the empty waves around her. I swim him over to her and deliver the little guy into her arms. “He swallowed a good part of the ocean, but otherwise he’ll be fine,” I tell her, knowing that she doesn’t understand.
    She clutches him to her and trembles. I swim two life jackets over to her and help her strap them on to her and the baby boy. She nods, and despite the language barrier, I can tell that she’s thanking me. Which makes me feel like zoo dirt, since I helped put her and her child in this predicament. If she knew that, she would probably be trying to choke the life from me. And I would probably let her.
    Rachel and I didn’t anticipate any children here. We were under the impression it was strictly a government facility. After all, an island isolated from the rest of the world isn’t a safe place to bring your family, right? But what if we underestimated the population? What if there are more children? If any of them die, or even get injured, I’m going to hate myself. I should have thought this through better . Panic begins to settle in.
    I dive under and try not to think about it, try to convince myself we’re still doing the right thing. I pull Kana aside. “How are we doing? Any sign of Jagen or Musa? Are all the humans okay?”
    That’s when I realize that there aren’t just Trackers around us. There are other Syrena, too. A dozen, at least. I watch in awe as they swim to the surface, find themselves a human, and keep them afloat. For every human, there is at least two watchful Syrena here to help. And there are no more pairs of stubby toddler legs.
    My conscience feels rinsed with relief. I cover my mouth to stifle the overwhelming urge to bawl my eyes out.
    Kana clasps my shoulder, smiling kindly. “It is not in our nature to harm humans,” she explains. “We are respectful of all life, no matter to whom the life belongs. You have proven to us that you feel the same. We will help you, Emma the Half-Breed.”
    The number of Syrena swells beyond one hundred. We all surround the island, which is now about ten feet under water, taking turns holding humans up. Most of the humans can swim, but some of the men have on heavy boots and we have to fight with them to remove them. But a lost boot is a good trade for a saved life; some of the men see our logic, others don’t.
    When I’m starting to feel overconfident about our position, I take a sudden kick to the back. Which is completely my fault; I wasn’t watching where I was going and got within swimming distance of a human pair of legs. It’s much easier to keep your bearings when you can sense others around you. Humans don’t have that luxury.
    Accident or not, it feels like I’ve been stabbed all over again. I cry out, and swim to the surface. Kana joins me. “You’re hurt?” she says.
    Gritting my teeth, I nod. “It’s where Jagen speared me in the back.” I’m teetering on the verge of tears and I feel like such a wuss. Who am I to be crying when all these people just got displaced from their homes? No one. That’s who.
    I wave Kana away. “Go. Help the humans. I’ll be fine.” And I will be. The pain subsides and I get back to work—more carefully this time. My movements are more delicate and precise now. I’m not unaware that the tape on my bandage has come loose, that blood has started seeping out of my freshly torn wound. I’m hoping the sharks I sent away care more about my instructions than they do about the stimulating scent lingering around me.
    It sucks to be a klutz on land and a klutz in the water.
    For all our hard work, there is still no sign of Jagen or Musa. Galen glides to my side. “We think they’re locked inside