Songs of Thalassa

by Brian Tissot

  It was a fleeting moment of self-awareness, one she had not felt before, and as she emerged from the tube and went flying out into the channel, it was over. Her peace and serenity and insightfulness faded, replaced by the sounds of clapping and cheering from everyone, except Milo. I did it! I’ve ridden the biggest wave ever, and now I can return with a revived career and bask in the glory of everyone watching me on the holoscreen.

  As she contemplated her accomplishment, the wave conditions suddenly shifted. As she paddled back out, Dina shouted from far offshore, warning of massive, dark swells on the horizon. But instead of powering outside to catch the waves, she was wisely moving toward the channel to avoid the ominous swells coming in. They were bigger than anything they had seen that day and moving toward the reef from several directions.

  A small brown head popped up in the white water, looked at Sage, then quickly dove below the surface as another large swell, this time swinging in from the southwest, swept into the break and collided with an incoming northwest swell. In an instant, the shoal became a jumble of huge peaks moving in several directions at once with Dina, Milo, and Sage trapped between them. As the waves collided with the reef, Colossus became a maelstrom of chaotic, churning walls of water. Sage realized that these were the conditions that Dina had foreseen, but now it was too late, and everyone was trapped in the fury of Thalassa’s rapidly changing ocean. It was time to get out of the water.

  Byron whipped the lander around to evacuate them, but Dina’s surfboard fin became entangled in a pile of fronds. She got caught inside by a large set of waves and had to dive underwater to avoid them. Not wanting to suffer Dina’s fate, Milo powered at high speed toward the lander, deftly avoiding the fronds on the surface. But his board wasn’t fast enough to evade the incoming swells, and he was forced to jump off and dive beneath a huge wall of white water.

  Sage watched with growing distress as Milo and Dina disappeared below the massive walls of white water sweeping across the reef. Powering over on her board, she searched for them in the sea of wild foam. As she looked, an inside wave swung around and hit her with a wall of churning water, knocking her off her board. Spinning wildly below the surface, she pulled on her emergency air and inflated her vest.

  She shot to the surface, but saw no sign of Milo or Dina as another giant wall of white water swept over her. Surfacing with the vest again, another massive wave broke in front of her. As she prepared to dive below it, she saw the lander in the distance, hovering above the water with Georgia and Moshe hanging on a rope ladder and pulling Milo through the lander’s door. But the lander was flying too low, and while they focused on the rescue, a large wave hit them sideways and knocked Milo, Moshe, and Georgia off the ladder and into the water. Byron regained control and dropped the ladder down to grab them, but another wave hit the lander from a different direction and it drifted out of control into the water on top of everyone, including Dina who had swum over to help. As Sage watched in horror, the lander sank below the surface, dragging everyone with it as another set of massive waves swept over the wreckage. Sage tried to cry out, but she barely had time to deflate her vest before she dove beneath an incoming wall of white water.

  Held underwater by the raging turbulence, she focused on staying calm and conserving her air as she tumbled through the washing-machine-like water and was pinned on the bottom. She pulled the cord on her vest, but it failed to inflate. Damn it! After a long minute, the wave eased up, and she began to ascend, kicking hard toward the surface. There, she was able to take one quick breath before another wall of white water rolled over her, tumbling her around again and pushing her down into the depths, her ears popping with the increasing pressure. As she was rolling along the bottom, her emergency air supply vibrated, indicating her air was running out. She tried to inflate her vest, but it wasn’t working. Feeling helpless and out of control, memories of Nazaré flooded her mind. I’m so fucked!

  Growing weak in the madly swirling foam, she drifted feebly along, her thoughts now on being back with her friends and the warm embrace of her ‘ohana. Oh, please, help me! But as her strength faded, she knew she was too far away from any help and her crewmates were likely dead. As she tumbled along the dark depths of the rugged reef, she recalled her tutu’s last words, Remember your aumākua. They will guide you.

  With her last ounce of strength, she recited the names of her well-memorized list of ancestors underwater. Help me ‘aumākua, help me Hāna-la‘a-nui, Kiha-nui-lulu-moku, Līloa, ‘Umi-a-Līloa, Helena Wanua… As her thoughts dropped off near the edge of consciousness, she heard clicking sounds, a chorus of notes, and felt soft fur brush by. Her view faded from white to black, but she could barely make out a shape emerging from the swirling white water—two big brown eyes set deep on a long dark face—and pushing her through the water. As she broke the surface, she passed out.

  Book Two

  Nesoi

  Ho’i hou I ka I wi kuamo’o

  Return to the family

  Chapter 13.

  Matriarch

  Her massive brown-and-white body moved gracefully through the water along the edge of the reef, making clicking sounds with her throat and nose. Yes, she knew this area well, recognized the familiar yellow mounds, the nasty blue mouths, the small school of wiggles spinning along the reef. Wiggles were tasty, but those were small, so she swam past the drop-off and into the black water, clicking to guide her way.

  As always, she was acutely aware of the presence of the big spears, the ones in the dark caves that waited to grab you. Many a youngster had fallen prey to the darting tentacles of those creatures. Until they learned; once they learned, it never happened to them again. Once we showed them, when they were old enough to understand, they were too smart and too quick, and the sounds guided them. The sounds showed what our eyes couldn’t see. They helped us eat, too, especially at night when the wiggles were quiet and the small spears were out. She hadn’t taken a breath for many minutes and began to feel the familiar tug inside to surface, but she had to be careful navigating her way home.

  As she approached the entrance to her family cave, she made a creaking sound, a more frequent series of clicks, to make sure it was empty. Nothing—she noticed with relief—but the smooth walls of our cave, our home. Then she made her way up the twisting, meandering cave system, first left, then right, then left again, then two rights and another left, and straight up through the long tube into the home cave. Learning the cave system had been hard, at first, but her mother and grandmother had shown her how to memorize the turns, watch for the symbols, and look for the spears. They had taught her just before the first crucible, 20 cycles ago. And she had learned just in time. Yes, time enough to make it back to the home cave and wait it out.

  With another crucible coming, and a bad one at that, she was teaching her daughters the path and the how to use the clicks and creaks, understand the symbols, and sing songs for the clan and the sea. Yes, she had learned that after every 20 cycles there was a different one. It was a cycle that required better preparation, a faster response, and a longer time in isolation. This knowledge had been passed on from parent to child. Only some caves, like her home cave, would survive a bad cycle. Those that had stayed outside during the cycles rarely returned. The few that did were severely wounded and spoke of the frenzy, an unimaginable gathering of the spears and the teeth and other creatures beyond their knowledge.

  By not watching the sky and counting the cycles, they had learned the hard way, losing sons and daughters, mothers and grandmothers, and aunts. But that was many cycles ago. She didn’t know what the big males did during the cycles or where they went, and she didn’t care. Somehow, they survived and always showed up again when it was time to breed. Some said they lived in the inland sea, but she rarely ventured there.

  She had learned to avoid the shallow inland seas. The sheets were there and were deceptively simple but deadly, as many a young one had discovered t
he hard way. Plus, that was the home of the teeth. They came from the inland sea but only during a cycle when the waters were sweet and high. Still, it was a place to be avoided. Yes, much to learn, much to teach. Anyway, there were plenty of things to eat here, so her clan was happy and sang their songs of joy and joined in the chorus.

  She surfaced inside the Home Cave, finally able to take a deep breath, then climbed out of the water onto the narrow sandy beach. It was dark, but she could see in the dim light from the glowing walls. Yes, the lights in the caves were how they learned to navigate the maze and find their home. Just follow the patterns. But the older ones had memorized the path.

  Looking around with satisfaction, she saw most of her family, but a few were missing. Probably feeding along the edge, or if they were hungry, out on the deep reef and in the canyons. Since a new crucible was approaching, many were fattening up offshore, chasing the large wiggles through the giant reed beds. She saw her three sisters and five of their young ones, and off to the side were two of her young sons, still living with their mother, aunt, and cousins. They would depart soon, not to be seen again.

  She was the matriarch of the family, the oldest, and had become so when her mother died six cycles ago from the teeth in the inland sea. We must teach the young ones about the teeth this time. They all depended on her wisdom: where to hunt, how to avoid the spears, the teeth, and the sheets; even the blue mouths could be deadly to a young one. She would show them which beaches were safe to give birth on and, very importantly, how to see a cycle coming by looking at the sky. They must know how to prepare and when to hide. Without her, life would be difficult for her family. She had tried teaching her sisters, but they just weren’t interested, content with her leading the clan. Good mothers, yes, but not leaders. Leaders were rare, and she knew it.

  Looking around, she didn’t see her two youngest daughters, one born recently. She glanced at her sister and made a sharp series of whistles while moving her eyes toward the entrance of the cave. Where are they? she asked.

  Her sister whistled back, Don’t know.

  Growing concerned, she swam back through the cave and up to the surface, listening and looking around on the beach, up and down the island, and up at the sky as she always did. She had heard and seen the strange creatures moving through the sky days before. Yes, the sky! They moved strangely around one of her cousin’s islands down the line. She was fascinated, so she swam down and watched as they moved rapidly through the water and splashed in the waves. Hypnotized by their motions, she couldn’t make sense of what they were doing. Were they eating? No, they weren’t taking any wiggles. Mating? No, they were too far apart. But she hated the shiny creature that moved through the air, the awful sounds it made. The ones in the water seemed harmless, so she swam back to Home Island. Much to learn, she thought.

  But today there was no sight of the odd creatures, and concern for her young daughters grew as the sky began to darken. The ocean was rough, and the offshore reef was awash with turbulence, as it was during the start of a cycle. Then, she heard something, just barely, clicks and creaks, then part of a song cycle, and then another sound she couldn’t make out. Her fear was growing, so she dove below the surface and raced out to the deep reef, taking deep strokes with her arms and legs and pushing with her strong tail.

  When she arrived on the deep reef, the bright sun was disappearing on the horizon as she easily navigated the raging torrent of water. She saw the strange air creature and several others swimming in the water, but nothing else. The songs told her that her daughters were nearby, foolishly going after the big wiggles in the reed beds. Her older daughter was born two cycles ago and knew not to feed here when it was rough. But her younger daughter didn’t know better.

  Suddenly, she saw them and heard their distinctive sounds, directly under the fast-moving white wave water. She swam to them while they fed among the wiggles moving through clumps of broken reeds. Easy pickings. She saw two of the strange creatures standing impossibly on a mountain of water. She’d never seen anything move so fast and watched in fear as one hit her daughter then flew off the wave. No! She rushed into the maelstrom to grab them. To her relief, the newborn was fine, but her older daughter had a deep gash in the head. She pushed her injured daughter along and whistled at her baby. Let’s go, now! The trio headed slowly back to Home Island.

  As they swam away from the reef, she heard another sound, an unusual noise, one that caused her newborn daughter to go tearing off to investigate. When she caught up with her on the reef, she saw one of the strange creatures drifting in the water. Her younger daughter pushed one with long dark flowing hair to the surface, and they all swam back to the islands, pushing the creature along with their heads and arms and placing it on their backs, the way they carried newborns. As they swam away, the mother turned toward the reef for another look at the weird air creature. But there was nothing to see but a swirling madness of water so high that it was blocking the setting sun, turning everything into darkness.

  Chapter 14.

  Islands

  Sage was deep in a stormy dream. She was floating on a dark, turbulent ocean filled with giant waves and screeching wind while lightning and thunder pierced the sky. Thrown around, helpless in the ocean’s elements, she screamed at the almighty power of the sea. Defiant, angry, she dared the ocean to take her. In response, a monstrous wave rose from the great depths, blotted out the horizon and the sky, and hid everything in its massive power. She watched in terror as it cascaded over her tiny figure, sending her spinning out of control into the dark ocean. Blackness. Pressure. Then she saw a bright light far below beckoning to her. But she was afraid. As she swam down, her fear grew as the light got brighter, blinding, so she stopped.

  Opening her eyes, she saw the bright light of Procyon and felt the warmth of the yellow-white sun. She heard the crashing of waves, felt the breeze on her face, and smelled the salt of the sea, tasted it on her lips. In her mind she was in Hilo, lying on a beach. She smiled at the warm comfort of the memory, but then reality sank in as she remembered her giant wave, tumbling along the rocky bottom.

  Where am I? Am I alive? Moving her arms, pain rippled through her battered body. Yes, I’m alive. I’m on Thalassa. Her safety vest was tight against her chest, but a quick touch caused it to inflate instantly, and she jumped up in surprise. “Shit!” she said. “Now it works.”

  The warm sand brought her back to the present. How did I get here? She remembered walls of white water holding her down, pounding her from all directions. Her thoughts were confused and jumbled together. Then a vivid memory: a dark face emerging from the white maelstrom, pulling her to the surface.

  She bolted upright. “Damn, what happened? I caught the biggest wave of my life, then bam!” Looking around, she yelled at the top of her lungs, “Is anyone here?”

  Only the soft sound of the waves at the edge of the beach called back to her. Then she remembered her last view of the lander, of her teammates, and the tragic turn of events. She broke into tears and buried her face in her hands. Oh my god, Dina. It can’t be true. And Byron, Georgia, Milo. Even Moshe! No! But the memory of the catastrophic crash was too vivid to ignore. Did anyone survive? I don’t see how. A deep sob erupted from her lips.

  Shoulders still shaking, she tried to pull herself together so she could think through her situation. I’m alone. I’m stranded on this remote island. Damn it all. But the Duke is still in orbit. Somehow I have to contact it.

  Looking around, she was on a small island with a jumble of large boulders in the middle. To her left, she saw progressively smaller islands disappearing into the horizon. To her right was an island on the northern horizon separated by a channel. It was bigger than the one she was on with a larger rocky peak. In the surf she saw patches of small yellow fronds, swaying back and forth peacefully in the waves. Down the beach were two brown creatures high on the sandy shore. Is that the creature that saved me? She tried to walk
and fell over with weakness. The reef took its toll. But I got my wave, the wave of all time. But at what cost? Slowly shaking her head she realized her victory felt hollow now that no one could share in it. Pushing herself up, slower this time, she gritted her teeth in resoluteness. But it’s not my fault. Milo was the one insisting we stay out. She staggered, then stumbled down the beach in determination. I’ve got to get back to the Duke. People have to see my wave! It was the biggest wave ever ridden. Moshe said they were streaming everything up in real time, right? Yes, it will be there.

  As she carefully bounced toward the creatures, the larger animal dashed into the water, startled by Sage’s approach. The remaining one was brown, about six feet long, with a torpedo-like shape, a big head, a long thick tail, and webbed arms and legs folded along its sides; its body was covered with thick, dense hair with black blotches over a brown back and a white stomach. Getting closer, the animal raised its head to look and emitted a sharp whistle. The creature’s eyes were set deeply at the base of a long tapered snout, with a long mouth and chiseled teeth, ending in a small, rounded nose bristling with long, white whiskers. Hah, so this is what they look like. They’re kinda mammalian, but like nothing I’ve ever seen on Earth.

  As she noticed a dark gash on the smaller animal’s head, it dawned on her that it was wounded. Was this the one Milo hit? As she moved closer to inspect the wound, the large animal whistled sharply from the surf, which caused her to back off. “OK, sorry, Mom.” Then she spoke to the wounded animal. “I’m sorry you got hit. Milo was right in front of me. It’s his fault.” Her mind grew conflicted. Or was it? Am I too far gone to remember my callous actions? She walked away, shaking her head as the larger creature rejoined the smaller one on the beach.