Sleepers (The Blue Planets World series Book 1)

by Darcy Pattison

  We’re going together, he thought. He felt his face warm with a blush. But he didn’t back off. It was nice to have a girlfriend, even if she was a human.

  Every day that week, he walked her to school; after school, he walked her to the Aquatic Center, where he sat and watched her practice her backstroke, freestyle, butterfly and breast strokes. The state swim meet was next Monday, and she had qualified in backstroke and IM. She was ferocious in her practices, pushing herself hard.

  Jake was determined to see Em every day, even Saturday and Sunday. It had been a while since Jake thought about the harbor seals, but it was almost time to turn in the science research paper that he and Em were working on together. He called Dr. Fleming, and she said to meet her at the harbor on Saturday morning, and they’d kayak out to check on the seals.

  But Em didn’t want to kayak. “With the state meet on Monday, we don’t have any practices this weekend. But I want to do something fun. I haven’t done any open water swimming in a while. What if I bring my wetsuit and swim while you kayak out to the pup?”

  At his skeptical look, she added, “I’ll just play around. I won’t work hard.”

  “A change of pace would be good,” Jake agreed.

  By now, Seattle’s days were down to less than ten hours of sunlight; sunrise wasn’t till 7:15 or so. It was still dark when Jake stopped by Em’s house, and they biked to the harbor. Bobbie Fleming was there before them, but she was talking to a tall man with straight blond hair. So Jake and Em locked up the bikes and pulled his kayak out of storage.

  Bobbie and the man were arguing as they came up, and they barely glanced at the teens.

  “The question is, why are they sick?” the man said. “And if it spreads to us—”

  Embarrassed, Jake said, “Are we interrupting something? Should we—”

  “No, it’s fine.” Fleming said shortly. She pushed up her glasses frame and frowned at the man. “We’re finished.”

  She glared at the man, who glared back.

  Their straight blond hair, the way they both stood so straight-backed, and the matching wire-rim glasses, made Jake ask, “Are you related?”

  “Brother and sister,” the man said. “I’m Dr. Maximillian Bari. I work at the hospital, the human hospital; I’m not a vet.” He took off his wire-rim glasses and rubbed them clean in a gesture that Jake had seen Dr. Fleming do many times.

  Em said, “You’re the new GP, the general practitioner doctor. Right? I think we’re switching over to you.”

  Suddenly, Fleming looked at Jake and Em and backed up a step. If possible, her frown deepened.

  “Yes,” Dr. Bari said. “Dr. Josiah Smith retired, and I bought out his practice.”

  Jake frowned. “Is it contagious? What the harbor seals have? Will people get it, too?”

  Fleming and Bari both shook their heads, like they were twins moving in sync. It’s almost eerie, Jake thought. He tried again, “You said, ‘if it spreads to us.’ Can humans get whatever it is?” Ironic question, Jake thought, since I’m not human. If Dr. Bari said, yes, then Jake figured he’d have to carry the question one life form farther and ask if it would affect Risonians.

  “Ah,” Dr. Bari said. “Well, that’s a good question. Not likely. I told Bobbie that I’d look at the veterinarian’s lab work, but it’s just not likely. Few diseases cross from aquatic life to humans.”

  Fleming took a deep breath and obviously changed the subject. “How’s the science report coming along? Need anything else?”

  “We just need a final check of the pup,” Em said. “We’ve got the vet report and stuff, and it’s almost written. We just wanted one more look.”

  “Let’s go out, then,” Fleming said. To her brother, she said, “I’ll talk to you later.”

  He nodded and strode off, walking toward the marina.

  Em disappeared into the girl’s bathroom and reappeared encased in a wet suit. Jake raised an eyebrow at the strange color. It was mottled shades of blue-green, with shades ranging from very light to dark.

  “It’s shark resistant,” Em explained. “It’s sort of like camo gear, except it’s camo designed especially for the water.”

  It would be hard to see in the water, Jake decided. The colors would blend and give Em an “invisibility cloak.” Jake watched her walk toward the water, awed by her athlete’s build. If her racing suit showed off her muscled shoulders, this wetsuit showed off her long legs. He whistled, and when she turned, he called, “We’ll be back soon.”

  She nodded, adjusted her mask and walked into the water. She began a lazy crawl—lazy for her, anyway.

  Jake and Fleming pushed off kayaks, paddling swiftly to Blakely Rock. Early morning on the water was still one of his favorite times because it was so calm. Except for the splash of his paddle dipping into the water, few sounds broke the tranquility of Puget Sound.

  Blakely Rock was silent, too. No seals.

  Slowly, the two kayaks circled the tiny island—really just an outcropping of rock.

  Jake said, “Nothing.”

  Fleming nodded but pulled binoculars from her ever-present dry bag. She scanned the shore and suddenly froze.

  “There,” she said.

  She paddled straight for a large boulder and pulled her kayak onshore. Bending, she touched—

  —the pup was dead.

  Ashes and nails filled Jake’s heart. They should’ve come out sooner to check on the pup, or the vet should have kept it longer until he was sure the pup would live. What was wrong with it? Had umjaadi killed the pup?

  The carcass was fresh. Only a few crabs had found it.

  From her kayak, Fleming retrieved a white kitchen-sized trash bag and tugged the pup’s body inside. This time, because the pup wasn’t squirming with life, she tied it to the front of her kayak where it would stay dry.

  Jake wondered about the other seals. The mother seal, was she okay, or was she sick, too?

  Somberly, they paddled back to the harbor. Jake wanted to explain about umjaadi to Fleming and have the veterinarian check for the organisms. But he couldn’t.

  At the harbor, Em came dripping out of the water to greet them, and she was just as horrified as Jake and Fleming over the pup’s death. “Why did the vet send it back?”

  Fleming said grimly, “I don’t know. He’ll do a post-mortem, and then we’ll know more.”

  Jake kicked at the gravel. The post-mortem would be pointless if the vet didn’t know to look for umjaadi.

  It made the research report difficult to wrap up. Jake and Em spent the evening finishing the project with no choice but to leave it open-ended.

  Em assured Jake, “Coach Blevins will understand.”

  Jake nodded. Mom would be here tomorrow, though, and this was one more thing they had to discuss. One more thing for which Seastead might have to answer.

  An Early Thanksgiving

  Early Sunday morning, Sir dropped Jake off at a house the Risonian Embassy had rented on the Hood Canal, right on the water. Dad was waiting for him, along with several Risonian military guards, including Commander Gordon. Dad and Jake paced the beach, waiting for Mom.

  Finally, a dark SUV drove up, and they hurried to meet her. When Mom stepped out of the car, Dad pulled her into his arms. They stood for a moment, just holding each other. Embarrassed, Jake turned away, but Mom was already searching for him among the officials and guards and grabbed him from behind in a bear hug. Seaweed perfume, he thought affectionately. No one on Earth smelled quite like his mom.

  But the situation was too urgent to linger; they strode quickly into the house.

  Mom’s voice dripped with regret and reproach, “If only you’d told us about Mai-Ron’s theories.”

  “I thought you knew.” Jake had been over this with Dad and Commander Gordon, so he expected it. “I was just a kid, and my best friend was dead. I didn’t know I was the only one who knew anything.”

  “Mai-Ron always kept his research close to the chest,” she said and cupped her own ha
nds to her chest. But when she opened them, it was with an empty gesture.

  The commanders showed her the photos of Captain Hill and Yarborough-Greg Blevins, and Mom remembered the Yarborough incident perfectly. Jake explained about Captain Hill deploying the Brown Matter.

  “A stupid way to get revenge,” Mom said. “Risking your own planet just to justify your wacky friend’s theories. Doesn’t he know the meaning of the word, ‘theory’?”

  Ignoring her righteous indignation, Dad rose to pace, “The question is, what now? Do we test Dolk’s TAG-GIMS on Rison? Or do we test it on Mt. Rainier?”

  “Both,” Mom said with decision. “Rison is likely too far gone for it to matter, but we have to try. Mt. Rainier is the first place anyone has used Brown Matter on an Earth volcano, so we have to contain it before it goes any further.”

  “What if Dolk’s theories are wrong, or his invention doesn’t work?” Commander Gordon said.

  Both Dad and Mom rounded on him, and Gordon stepped back, almost stumbling over the massive leather couch.

  “It could be wrong,” Gordon insisted. “Volcanic theories have come and gone for years. Why should Dolk’s theory be any better?”

  “Because he was Mai-Ron Dolk, of course,” Mom said. As if she realized how illogical that was, she threw up her hands in disgust. With a sigh, she said, “You’re right. Dolk could be wrong but it’s something that no one else has ever tried. We know that nothing else will help Mt. Rainier. This is our only chance.”

  Jake shook his head. “No. We could do nothing. Maybe it will only smoke and never blow.”

  But he thought about the week of escalation: bulging crater, dead fish, lakes gone crazy, rising temperatures of fumarole gases, and more sulfur dioxide in the gases. It was getting worse, not better.

  Dad sat down and hung his head. “If it blows—”

  “—it will affect too many people,” Mom finished.

  They were all silent for a few moments. Outside, the sunlight glittered off Hood Canal. It was cold, but beautiful. A perfect fall day. Captain Hill was forcing them into decisions they didn’t want to make. Earth, the blue planet, was balanced upon the head of a pin, and the wind from a butterfly’s wing could unbalance it.

  Reluctantly, Jake said, “Let me tell you about a seal pup that we’ve been studying.” He didn’t want to deliver yet another unpleasant detail, but they had to know. He explained the pup’s death and his suspicion that it was umjaadi.

  Mom looked sharply at Commander Gordon. “Is he right? Did someone break an umjaadi globe?”

  Gordon rubbed his hands wearily over his face. “Yes.” He suddenly looked older.

  “And you didn’t report it?” she demanded.

  “It was done. We couldn’t undo it.”

  And that was the problem: as careful as any Earthling or Risonian would be, it was inevitable that there would be a cross-contamination. That had been the concern of the early contacts. It was Orson Welles’ “War of the Worlds.”

  In the end, the discussion went nowhere. The umjaadi would either cause problems or not. If and when it did—as Jake suspected with the seal pup—they would try to respond. Dad would make sure the Navy quietly got tissue samples from the seal pup, and that was all they could do for now.

  Later, after all the discussions, Jake went outside to walk along the beach, and he was pleased when Mom joined him. Walking along the shore, he suddenly saw a three-foot long fish swimming up into the shallows. Mom put a hand on his shoulder, and together they watched the insistent salmon wriggle up a tiny rivulet that led inland. The water was so shallow that it barely came halfway up the fish’s sides. Maybe somewhere the rivulet would open up into a larger stream, but here, it looked like the fish was going nowhere. It would never make it home. Maybe, Jake thought, Risonians were closer kindred to this salmon than to sharks. The salmon was just seeking its home waters so it could spawn, so it could make sure its species survived. That’s all the Risonians wanted: survival of their species.

  The photographer jammed the monopod that supported his heavy lens into the sandy shore. The ambassador from Rison was across a shallow strip of water. If he got any closer, they’d spot him. It had to be from here. He’d seen her disappear into the house, and if she went in, she’d have to come out sometime. He shivered in the cold breeze and pulled his sock cap closer over his ears.

  Then, he got lucky. The teen who’d gone into the house came out. He looked to be the right age to be the Ambassador’s son. He didn’t know the other men, probably a bodyguard and officials who were plotting with her.

  And from a side door, the she-Shark joined the boy. This had better be her son, the photographer thought. His car needed engine work, and he needed the bonus money offered by the National Enquirer. They stopped, and she put a hand on his shoulder. Amazingly, they were facing his camera; it was his chance.

  The camera’s motor whirred, taking dozens of photos in just a few seconds. Quickly, he flipped on the camera’s monitor and scrolled through the photos. They weren’t great. The subjects were too far away, and the light was already failing. Not what he had hoped for, but maybe good enough? In a few frames, the boy’s face was dimly visible.

  He snapped again, but this time the boy and woman were headed away from him, and he only got a silhouette against the bright sky. The first set of photographs would have to do. He wondered how much the press would pay for the photos. He hoped for enough to fix his car and pay rent for the month, or even a couple months.

  When Jake and Mom returned to the house, Dad met them at the door.

  “I have a surprise,” he said.

  Sir and Easter came out of the kitchen, both wearing pink aprons. On Easter, it looked fine, but Sir’s face was as pink as the apron because of the heat in the kitchen.

  Dad beamed. “Since Dayexi won’t be here next week, we are having Thanksgiving dinner tonight.”

  At the offer of food, Jake lifted his head and sniffed. Something smelled great.

  Easter said, “We’ll eat in about thirty minutes. The bread is almost done.”

  Mom stepped forward, and in her best ambassador manners, she took Easter’s hands in hers. “Thank you for such a warm welcome.”

  But Easter pulled her into a hug, and then pushed her back to stare straight into her face. “You’re the only girl Blake ever brought home to meet us, which makes you special. And your son is a pure joy. He’s so much like Blake at that age. Stubborn and proud.”

  Mom blinked back tears, and her mouth quivered.

  Jake watched in amazement. This old couple had welcomed them with open arms. Mom and Jake didn’t deserve such hospitality. Dad stepped in and pulled everyone into a group hug. And when they pulled apart, everyone blinked back tears, even Sir.

  Sir cleared his throat. “I better carve the turkey.”

  And Jake’s first Thanksgiving on Earth was full of good food, laughter and gratitude.

  The State Swim Meet

  Late on Sunday night, Jake asked the thing he’d been dreading, but had to ask. “Em, my, um, my girlfriend. She’s in a swim meet tomorrow. It’s the state championships. Can we go watch?”

  Dad shook his head, but Mom nodded. “I want to meet Em.”

  “Won’t someone recognize you?” Dad said.

  She grinned. “You leave that to me. I’ll go incognito.”

  Early the next morning, she came downstairs transformed. She had shed her ambassadorial pantsuit and pulled on a pair of worn jeans. Her hair pulled back into a ponytail that she tucked through the back of one of Dad’s old collection of hats. Since he’d visited Jake, Dad had taken five or six caps with him, and every day he wore a different one. He must have brought this one with him. It was a burgundy cap with gold letters that said “Florida State.”

  “Where’d you get this one?” she teased Dad.

  “I went to a junior national qualifying meet for backstroke. I didn’t do very well, only 57th in the country. But I exchanged baseball caps with a guy there. He
was getting a swimming scholarship to the University of Utah, so he was willing to switch for other Pac 10 caps. I gave him an Oregon Ducks cap.”

  “Ducks, bears, cardinals—your Earth tradition of mascots is still strange to me. Why would anyone want to be called a Duck? Quack, quack.” Mom shook her head and tied the laces on some running shoes. Then she stood and twirled around. Her Bainbridge High sweatshirt hid her figure, and the cap shaded her face.

  Jake barely knew her. “Where, oh where, has the Face of Rison gone?”

  Dad, Jake and Mom grinned at each other.

  “Let’s go to this swim meet and watch Em,” Mom said.

  The King County Aquatic Center was packed. Because they arrived at 9 a.m., early enough to watch the warm-ups, they had their choice of seats. Jake led the way, climbing bleachers to the top row, and sat next to a beam that supported the roof for added shadows. With animated gestures, Dad explained how the swim meet worked to Mom.

  Meanwhile, Jake trotted down to talk to Em. He found her on the Bainbridge High team bench, hunched over with a towel around her neck and her face in her hands.

  Concern shot through Jake. “You okay?”

  She shook her head. “So tired.”

  “Let me get you a power bar. You just need some quick energy.”

  She dipped her nose toward a half-eaten power bar on the bench beside her. “Not hungry.”

  This really worried Jake. Em ate five or six power bars a day sometimes. “Coffee? Gator-Ade?”

  “Ugh.” Em shivered.

  Gently, Jake touched her forehead, her neck. “You’re hot. I think.”

  “Mom took my temperature this morning. Said I was okay.”

  Jake shook his head. If this wasn’t the state meet, she should just sit out because she obviously felt really bad. But she’d worked so hard to be a contender in the backstroke and IM.

  “Can you lay down or something? In between events?”