by Chris Hechtl
“Good to hear,” Al murmured.
<)>^<)>/
“I think I'll be nice and spare you on how we turn the compost into fishmeal,” Kirima said as she finished up with the last pond a few hours later. “We have cleaner ponds that have Tilapia and cleaners in them. They are as organic as we can get. The waste from the various ponds are extracted and fed into them. We have to watch the algae content carefully,” she warned.
“Cool,” Tia said, looking at the pond. Jethro looked at her. It took him a moment to realize that monitoring the operation was probably considered as good life support training by the recruiter. He snorted softly to himself.
“I didn't see the need, but I do now that I understand why. We can harvest the Tilapia too, which is nice. We're still debating the idea of expanding into shrimp. There are some benefits, but we'd have to buy the eggs from a hatchery and feed them more often. Plus, we'd have to do twice daily water quality checks since their crap can mix and create ammonia.”
“Sounds like you've been doing your research,” Jethro rumbled with an approving nod.
“I have. Our investors brought it up.” She pulled out her tablet. “This is one of the few places where we get a good Wi-Fi signal,” she said, indicating a series of satellite dishes nearby. “They use it to monitor the farm remotely.”
“I see,” Jethro said.
“Just another thing I'm trying to get them to expand on. It'd be nice if we could get a relay to the shore,” Kirima said with a heavy sigh.
“True,” Jethro said with a nod.
“What do you do if you have too much ammonia? How do you tell?” Tia asked.
Jethro blinked. He remembered a bit from his time on ship manning a life support post. He opened his mouth, but Kirima had an answer.
“I check the water quality. We have to worry about it with the fish too if the pumps get backed up or shut off too long,” she said. “We check the ammonia levels with a color chart. Too much and we add more water to dilute it while we crank up the filtration or change the filters in them,” she said.
“Ah.”
Kirima washed her flippered hands off. “I think we're ready to go back. I can lock up and then we can get going. It'd be nice to get back to the beach before dark and doing it without being exhausted … really nice,” she said in appreciation.
“Cool. I'm hungry. I could use a good fish fry,” Tia said.
“Me too. The nice thing is the truck should be aired out by now,” Jethro said.
“Don't bet on it,” Kirima said darkly. “We've got to bring the empty barrels back.
Al, Tia, and Jethro groaned and shook their heads wearily as they trudged back to the storage shed. Kirima chuckled.
<)>^<)>/
The team was eager to pitch in with ideas on how they could help once they were all back together. From the increasingly nettled and put upon expressions from their guides, Jethro judged that their help and suggestions, however well intentioned, weren't going over well. They just seemed like meddling and drew unwanted negative attention to what the selkies currently had without acknowledging the achievements they'd made to get that far.
He shook his head and did his best to stay out of that mess. He was just the team's guide in—a way to establish themselves and get their foot in the door. He was, therefore, technically no longer needed. But he was curious about a few of the people he'd met previously.
While they were out, the lieutenant and Kendra had gotten something of a census of the village going. They now knew the village had roughly two thousand people in it, far larger than they'd expected. A lot of that had to do with the fish farms Jethro, Tia, Kirima, and Al had just visited. The extra food had led to something of a population explosion.
Over dinner Jethro found out that the old former walrus beachmaster elder of the village, Yoksolo, had been ousted by Yutu and then driven off the beach after his last visit. Apparently Yoksolo had thought Yutu had been weakened enough so he could mount a comeback challenge. He had been unsuccessful and had been brutally beaten into the sea to never be seen again.
Yutu hadn't fared much better, however. A short time later, mating season had erupted, and he'd brazenly taken on too many challengers in too short a time. His last challenger had beaten him into submission and had driven him off into the sea to follow Yoksolo. The scuttlebutt whispers he heard implied that Yutu like Yoksolo had fallen prey to the sharks that followed the fallow seals and homed in to their spoor.
That was just as well. Yoksolo, the fat isolationist Neowalrus beachmaster, had been standing in the way of progress. Yutu hadn't been much better. He'd been an aggressive pain in the ass, a bully Jethro had beaten in a brief spat on the beach, which had ultimately led to his eventual downfall. Yutu's fall had opened the door to a proper village council and beachmasters of each subspecies of selkie.
That was when he and the other visitors found out that the selkie weren't one homogeneous group. Each subspecies had their own beachmaster, the patriarch of the group. Some of the beachmasters were brutes, driven by harsh conditioning and survival to exert their dominance over their slice of the clans. A few were more progressive though and open to new ideas, which was why the farms had managed to get started.
There was some talk about the village being run strictly by the beachmasters, making it a patriarchal society. A few of the beachmasters were wise enough to listen to the cows like Kirima but not many.
Their visit to the small but growing fish farm had opened his eyes to the possibilities. It also showed them that the selkie could do without interference or handouts from the Federation if they got the right start-up and little or no interference. He shuddered to think about how the tax situation would eventually be applied. Not his problem, he reminded himself, putting it out of his mind.
The selkie were working with an outfit to farm trout, salmon, clams, mussels, sea weed, and other farmable products of the sea. Fish were in containers by size. Contrary to what Kirima said, they were fed more than just the leftovers from the selkie. Plants and other byproducts were trucked in from neighboring farms on a monthly basis.
A large part of the selkie contribution was their daily tending to the farms out on the water offshore. They had to not only care for the fish but also the pens they were in, risking life and limb to do so.
Harvest ships came around periodically to harvest each crop. As Kirima said the selkie were getting a tithe of each harvest, plus a bit extra for credits. He wasn't certain if they were getting their fair share for the work and risks they were putting in, but it wasn't his place to say anything.
Eventually selkie who went off to find jobs in the Navy or Marines and returned would come back with new experience and training. They would open the eyes of their countrymen he knew.
When marines or squids retired or exited the military, they tended to seek out friends and family. Not always he knew but most of the time. You go back home to familiar haunts, he knew. Nostalgia—though home was never the same once you left it. They also tended to want a simpler life after the hard life in the military.
Living in the selkie village would be a taste of home for the selkie who returned, but they would want some of the comforts of home that they'd had in the military. They'd want those for themselves to make their lives easier as well for their mates and their children.
So, like it or not, the selkies would change even more in time. They wouldn't appear like the hunter gathers that Deja and he had first visited. In time, who knew what they'd turn into he thought as he finished his meal.
<)>^<)>/
Malik had graduated from the kiddy pools to the open bay. He loved playing in the surf; it was far more fun than the mostly static pools. The thrill of danger was ever present of course, but with a guard watching the bay, no sharp tooth would be able to venture over the lip and into the bay to go after the tender juveniles like himself.
Besides, the bay was only a few flippers deep. It didn't drop off until you moved out beyond the lip to the
cliff. The lip was marked by a line of orange buoys that bobbed in the water. They were anchored by lines to the sea bed but tended to drift with the incoming or outgoing tide. The selkie juveniles had been taught to not stray within ten meters of the buoy.
“This is so boring,” Ublureak said as he bobbed in the waves.
“Tired of surfing?” another friend asked as she did a flip over them.
“Nice one,” Malik complimented.
“Suck up,” Ublureak taunted, splashing him.
“Am not!” Malik replied, clearly nettled. He splashed back.
“Boys,” the female said in disgust as she arrowed off to a group of females.
“See what you did?” Ublureak growled. “You chased her off!”
“Me??! You, you mean!” Malik replied indignantly.
“She saw your yellow streak and swam off!”
Malik grimaced. He was one of the few of his group who hadn't taken the dare. It was one of the rights of passage that all selkie went through—the feeling that you could handle the sea and to accept the consequences once you took her on and entered her depths for real.
“I'm tired of playing in the kiddy pool. I'm not afraid of any sharp tooth!” Malik said. He moved further out but then stopped. He looked at the setting sun. It was getting late, and he knew the sharp teeth congregated on the passages that the fallow seals used. They would be in full hunt mode he knew.
“What's the matter, scared?” Ublureak drawled, splashing him.
“It's not the right time,” Malik muttered as a waved moved him up a flipper above Ublureak and then down as the swell caught up with the crest. “I'm going to do it sometime. Just watch me!”
“Sure you are,” Ublureak drawled. “You should go off with the outsiders like your coward of a half-brother. Go pretend to be brave and leave the sea to those who can handle her,” Ublureak said scathingly with well-placed malice. His brown eyes seemed to bore into Malik's. The harbor seal selkie froze in the water, clearly angry.
“Malik!” Malik's dame, Aga, called barking his name out over the water. He flinched as if he'd been struck. His head slowly turned to the beach. “It's time for dinner!”
“Go home to mommy, braggart,” Ublureak taunted.
“Don't make me come in there and get you young man. I'll tan your ass,” Aga growled.
“I'm going to do it. Sometime,” Malik growled in disgust as he swam back to his mother. “Coming mother,” he muttered as he tried to turn a deaf ear to the taunts from the other male juveniles.
“That's it, run home to mommy,” Ublureak said in such a taunting voice that Malik missed a stroke and ducked under the surf to hide his shame.
He'd do it. That would show up Ublureak he thought. Then it would be his turn to call the others a coward he thought with a slight hint of satisfaction and anticipation as he let the waves bring him in the rest of the way. When his belly hit the sand, he rose but then nearly crashed on his face when the follow-up wave hit him in the rear. He steadied himself and then brushed off the wet sand as he waddled to his mother. She gave him a look of disapproval and then waved for him to get moving. He nodded mutely and then scampered ahead of her when she took a playful swat at his rear go get him moving faster.
<)>^<)>/
Jethro worked with the crew to help ingrain themselves with the natives. They had credits to help pay for things, but the lieutenant quietly informed them that if they helped in some way, it would go a long way to cementing their relationships with the community.
Consequently, the medic stuck with the healers, most noticeably Arnaaluk, teaching them and treating the population. She carried a bag with her and not only did physicals, but also inoculations and vaccinations.
The selkie had the usual trauma from each other; many, especially the males, were scarred by such experiences. There were a few cases of poisoning from fish or plants, some who weren't aging well, but a couple cases of infection and pneumonia as well. Diagnosing each had already been done. Finding a better treatment for those who were still on the fence was tricky. Especially given their limited amount of resources and almost complete lack of diagnostic equipment to work with.
The lieutenant spent a lot of his time talking with the locals, though he did take the occasional break to play in the surf with some of the older Neopups. He had brought something called a bogey board with him and used it to the local's amusement and interest. At night he passed the simple foam shape around the fires and explained how it worked.
The yellow lab Neomutt marine had the most interesting occupation. He joined the gathers on the beaches. Jethro watched him from a safe distance as they dug clams the first morning. The Neodog was gifted at digging. He tended to throw a ten-meter rooster tail of wet sand up behind him as he put his heart and soul into the project. Jethro had never seen a dog wag his tail so hard.
The amused natives who were also out clamming learned to keep clear of the dog. At first the dog tended to make a mess of things before one of the exasperated natives gave him some sort of rake and showed him the technique.
Jethro made a note to put the dog on digging latrines if it ever came to that. He was most certainly a natural at digging.
Jethro joined the apes as they helped to move rock and improve the camp ground. One of the quiet Neochimps was also an electronics tech; she took to working with a couple interested juveniles to explain the basics of electricity and how to use it to the community's benefit. She also lamented about not having concrete. She did her best to figure out the recipe from memory but was stymied at sand, aggregate, and water. She promised a few of her new friends that she would find out and come back with it on their next trip. “If you are still here that is,” she would hasten to add.
Moving the rock was a tiring occupation, one Jethro and the apes did only in the early morning when the fog was in. Once the marine layer cleared and the sun came out, he like the others switched to less exhausting and back breaking occupations like fishing and relaxing in the sun. After all, they were supposed to be on vacation. He was pleased though to see them make a dent in some of the community's never ending list of things to do even though they'd only been there two days.
The antics of the selkie pups amused everyone. They obviously loved to do tricks in the water and weren't above the occasional prank. They were incredibly agile, especially the sea lions. He felt a bit worn out just watching them do flips and tricks in the pools and shallows.
<)>^<)>/
Kendra overheard a group of females talking about the sharks. She listened as she worked and tried to keep out of it. From what she overheard, the problem boiled down to sanitation.
The selkie like the fallow seals tended to go to the bathroom everywhere. Apparently the sea was their primary toilet. The sharks picked up the scent trail and then homed in on it.
The hunters and groups were only safe when they were in a big group. Anyone on the outside was vulnerable to attack, usually from below. Since the selkie were air breathers, they had to remain near the surface for their stay in the ocean.
The group debated finding better weapons or repellant to keep the sharks at bay versus getting a truck and more equipment for when they were on land. She frowned thoughtfully. The selkie had one flippered foot on the land and another in the sea. She didn't envy them. They couldn't hang onto many possessions because they had to move on eventually … or did up until they had started fish farming. Now there was great debate on the safety of remaining and relying on the fish farm; if there was a failure or die-off, they would starve.
She saw two things they could do to mitigate their problems. The first involved their waste. If they bottled it, filtered it, and then sent it to the farms, they'd be able to pay for doing those activities while denying the sharks a large marker. It wouldn't be as effective as she'd like though; it would only work for the selkie not the fallow seals. And anyone who continued to do their business in the sea would still draw the toothy monsters in.
The other problem … tha
t was more complex. Part of the problem was they couldn't move any bulky items except by ship. That limited them to items they could carry. The items had to be wrapped in something that could handle exposure to salt water too, and it had to be light so it could be easily carried.
She looked up as she realized she'd seen some chafe and scar marks on some of her patients. That explained them she realized.
<)>^<)>/
Miki stuck close to Tia and the others as much as possible. Tia called him her little helper. Whenever they ventured into the inner community, Miki stayed by the truck. Jethro noted Miki was already considered an outsider by the clans. They had turned ranks and were shunning him as if he'd already left. It was unfortunate. Even the juvenile's mother didn't come near or look at him.
He could and did feel a kinship with the young man. His father had disowned him when he had chosen to join the Marines. But the thought of letting the young selkie cozen up to him when he had a tendency to whimper or whine … it unsettled him on so many levels. Therefore, he left him to Tia. Let her deal with Miki. Hopefully, she would be able to do something about him.
Chapter 6
“Are you finally going to do it, coward?” Ulbureak demanded.
“Just watch me,” Malik said, taking the dare. He needed to get it over with he thought. With the evening shift still asleep and the day shift out to sea, the adult supervision was thin. Thin enough for him to nip in and out if he did it right.
Ulbureak brown eyes went wide then narrowed in intense speculation. “Fine. The dare is to go to the edge of the drop-off. You've got to stay there for a full thirty seconds,” he said.
“I can go longer,” Malik said.
“Are you serious?” one of the other juveniles demanded. “You are nuts! He's crazy!” a few of the others said.
Ulbureak turned to them and then back to Malik. “Fine. Make it a full minute,” he said.
Malik twitched his whiskers. “Okay,” he said, suddenly wondering what he'd gotten himself into.
“We'll be timing you,” Ulbureak said.