An enormous staff had been hired for that morning’s event. A master chef had prepared a special menu and servers were stationed on every deck with trays of drinks and hors d'oeuvres for the V.I.P. entourage. With a 400-million-dollar price tag and the client’s commitment to purchase five more yachts of its kind over the next decade, the CEO of Seton Yacht manufacturers himself, was on hand to present the keys of the ship to their client.
At 10AM sharp, a fleet of limousines and vans pulled into the parking lot. Media helicopters and drones hovered overhead to capture glimpses of the ATHENS figurehead. Raj Kaleka and a dozen of his aides, attorneys and advisors boarded the awaiting launch and were delivered to the glistening yacht. As the speedboat approached the vessel, deckhands positioned at the transom pulled on velvet cords, unveiling the ship’s name: “Monita.” The smaller craft circled behind the ship, then slowly returned to the opening in the side of the hull to unload its occupants. As Raj climbed out of the launch, he was greeted by a round of applause. Once the group was onboard, the gigantic garage door slid closed, the Tesla engines engaged and the mega yacht motored into Puget Sound.
The tour took well over two hours—not at all surprising for a ship of its size. By noon, the lunch bell rang and the party was escorted into the dining room. Raj, accompanied by his senior aide and attorneys, sat at a separate table with Seton’s CEO. Accepting a glass of white wine, Raj proposed a toast. “To this stunning vessel built with pride and artistry. I look forward to a lasting relationship between our two organizations.”
“Hear, hear! I could not agree with you more,” the CEO replied, clinking his glass.
“I’m pleased to hear that the final details of our agreement were nailed down and we can move full steam ahead with the plan.” Raj slid his plate aside as an aide placed the paperwork on the table. “We’re in agreement that for each of these customized yacht purchases delivered to our ATHENS subsidiary, Seton’s will refit a salvaged cruise-liner at the lowest market price—as outlined in pages eight through thirteen of the contract we have before us. Correct?”
“Yes sir, our facility in Auckland is ready to receive the first vessel, Mr. Kaleka. I’m confident that our arrangement will be a landmark collaboration.”
“Excellent, I’m glad to hear it. Delivery times and specs can be hammered out with my attorneys this afternoon—signatures executed electronically by end of day.” With that Raj stood and bowed, to those around his table. “And now if you’ll excuse me, I have a press conference scheduled at the terminal in thirty minutes. I must take my leave.”
As they were escorted to the lower level, Raj’s assistant read aloud a message from one of ATHENS San Diego operatives, detailing how the refugees at the Riverside Treatment facility had disappeared without a trace. The habeas corpus writs submitted through the Justice Department had been referred to Immigration and Border Control: HighTower. Raj held up his hand, cutting her off. “Send a memo to the President, inform him that ATHENS demands an accounting of the refugees—cite the Freedom of Information Act. Bring my attorneys in on this now and get back to me before the press conference has finished.” The assistant returned to the dining hall and Raj boarded the launch.
Back on shore, the parking lot overflowed with media—cameras and reporters lined the sidewalk toward the makeshift stage. Raj waved to the journalists and briskly made his way to the small platform. “Good afternoon, I’d like to thank you all for joining us. I know it might seem odd to set a press conference out here in the desolation of Seattle’s past, but that’s exactly why I’ve picked this location.” The cameras captured ATHENS’ executive in front of the panorama of the Olympic Mountains. Raj gestured behind him toward the gleaming yacht, “She’s a beauty, isn’t she? I didn’t invite you out here just to show off a rich man’s new toy. I want to announce something far more exciting: The creation of an exciting enterprise—and a new way of life for many people. Have I got your attention now?”
Reporters held their mics and video equipment higher in anticipation of Raj’s announcement. He relished the moment, teasing out his next statement. “The land that you see before us—three miles of abandoned waterfront here in the old city has been purchased by subsidiaries of ATHENS to construct an international refugee center. It will be, in essence, a clearing house for displaced persons left homeless due to rising sea levels, heat, drought, famine and conflict. In accordance with United States immigration laws and international aid organizations, we will house train and relocate the displaced and disenfranchised.”
A flurry of voices cut in as Raj paused for effect. Reporters shouted questions in rapid fire succession. “How do you plan to work around the current refugee ban?”… “Where will you relocate these people once they’ve arrived?” …“What does the White House have to say in response?”... “Mr. Kaleka, how do you intend to deal with HighTower’s jurisdiction over border and security?”
“One at a time, please!” Raj smiled, answering the first question he’d heard. “In so far as the immigration laws—our attorneys have devised a plan that satisfies not only US and Canadian regulations, but international maritime law as well.” Raj pointed southward toward the Duwamish River where a cruise liner was being towed into Puget Sound by a pair of tugs. He leaned into the microphone for emphasis and continued, “Seton Yacht Manufacturers, creators of this new plaything I just purchased, have been hired to refurbish up to a dozen of these old dinosaurs into ‘floating cities’. There are hundreds of mothballed cruise ships throughout Europe and North America right now—relics of a bygone era. They will be equipped to run on solar energy with the eco-friendly systems. Each of these scrapped ships are to be outfitted to accommodate 8,000 refugee families—the size of a small town. We will give them the opportunity to learn new languages, skills and trades while onboard. These ships will sit out in international water—far enough away from the border that is patrolled by HighTower. Safe and, above all else, completely legal.”
The journalists gathered closer, pressing the CEO for answers. Raj took his time and answered each one of them. “The facilities that we will build here, along what used to be Seattle’s busiest tourist attraction, will house the families who have been thoroughly vetted and admitted through the proper channels with visas and asylum status. ATHENS will oversee the subsidiary organizations that will be hiring from this pool of people.”
“What about jobs for natural-born citizens?” someone shouted. “Will you be taking away employment opportunities for Americans?”
Raj smiled and said, “Absolutely not. There is opportunity for everyone through our new program. You see, there will be a need for botanists, teachers, sanitation, police, engineers, doctors and… well, just about everything that a society needs on land—only they’ll be doing these jobs on the water. All US citizens with sea legs are welcome to apply.” He pointed toward a woman in the second row, “Question?”
“Yes, thanks Mr. Kaleka. Viewers will want to know exactly how you plan to finance this rather ‘ambitious’ project—even ATHENS can’t sustain it indefinitely, can it?”
“Ah, good point—and that leads to my next announcement: Seton manufacturing will be turning out five more of these luxury yachts for ATHENS within the next decade. We plan to use them as floating eco-vacations for patrons and donors interested in joining our mission: That of marine research and international aid. To put it another way, passengers may book cruises on these mega yachts bound for places the Great Barrier Reef, where ATHENS is conducting rehabilitation on the coral habitat… or an expedition to Antarctica as we map glaciers—all the while enjoying every luxury accommodation they could imagine. I’d like to think of it as a way for the elite to cancel out their carbon-guilt while enjoying a unique extravagance.”
“Heck, sign me up on the maiden voyage!” one of the reporters shouted.
“If we do a press junket, we’ll be sure to let you know,” Raj responded. “Meanwhile, ATHENS will be pairing the world’s leading scientis
ts and climate researchers with some of its wealthiest adventurers and entrepreneurs. A winning scenario no matter how you look at it… And, it sustains our various programs while in their development. Our goal is to have dozens of these floating refugee villages around the world—completely self-sustaining and self-reliant models of human resourcefulness.”
“But how will they be governed?”
“The vessels will be registered in various foreign countries. Oversight will be handled through an ATHENS subsidiary with emphasis on human rights, of course.”
Another hand shot up in the crowd. Raj called out, “You over there… from the middle—I have time for just one more question.”
“What do you think HighTower’s CEO will say about your announcement? Especially coming on the heels of your recent accusations linking them to criminal acts concerning refugees. Any thoughts?”
Raj waved at his aide and took the tablet from her hands. “It’s interesting that you should ask that question right now. As you know, I’ve been a vocal critic of the HSA—particularly regarding their policies on refugees. The recent HighTower missile strike in the Galapagos Islands was the final straw. I’ve sent an official request to both Washington and Ottawa to produce the victims from the Marshall Islands. HighTower refuses to show us any evidence of their well-being. So, in response to your question: It will be of no consequence what HighTower—or Nelson Banks thinks, because unless documentation can be put forth publicly on the whereabouts of these 30 individuals, our ATHENS attorneys will be filing charges against the HSA and its CEO for human rights violations. I publicly challenge Nelson Banks and the White House to ignore this warning.” The press jostled for space as individual journalists turned to face their cameras for exclusives on Raj’s latest statement. Several reporters ran for vehicles; racing to get the headline out before their competition.
Raj stepped back, allowing his assistant to field more questions. He stepped into his limo, turned on the Global News Network and waited for the Monita’s launch to convey the remainder of his entourage ashore.
33 Whiskey Golf
Strait of Georgia. B.C. Canada. Aug 19 2033
49°26'36.4"N 124°18'14.8"W
“Which way do we go, Kij’?” Táan shouted, looking back over his shoulder. Dot tilted her head toward starboard and they pulled back on the sheets; the Dyson sails rotated and the baidarka’s prow altered course. Dot felt the wind kiss her cheek as they settled into the new heading.
Táan had recently switched cockpit positions with Dot so she could better manage the sails. The north breeze was at their back, and they spent most of their time on a downwind run, employing paddles only for course adjustments. The wind had gained momentum as it funneled down the wider channel past Jedidiah Island. Before they parted, Kai had counseled them to keep to the Vancouver Island-side of Georgia Strait and avoid the heavy marine traffic and populated mainland coastline. But Dot could feel the wind veering eastward and saw the fetch building in mid-channel. She doubted the wisdom of remaining on the leeward side of the strait, but chose to stick with Kai’s advice. Selecting a point on the horizon, she adjusted their heading and leaned back to monitor the sea state.
By lunchtime, they’d reached the southernmost point of Texada Island—the last headland before open water and the commercial shipping lanes—Whiskey Golf lay to the southwest. Kim unwrapped the last package of saltfish and handed back the loaf of bread they’d saved from Yaculta. The trio laid their paddles across their cockpits and ate a sparse meal. Dot scanned the clouds for any sign of Monk; he often arrived at lunchtime for leftovers, although today he was nowhere to be found. She tucked a chunk of the crust into her pocket, just in case. Kim looked back and held the empty food bag aloft. “We’re going to have to stop early enough to reprovision; we’re all out of fish.” He rummaged through the compartment at his feet and said, “I’ll set some tackle once we’re out of this deep water.” Before Dot could respond, their boat was hit with a jarring thunk. She quickly laid her paddle flat against the opposing waves to keep from capsizing.
Kim turned around and yelled, “What was that?”
The baidarka was hit hard again—this time from beneath the forward part of the hull. Kim screamed as the bow was lifted, then slammed back into the sea. Táan and Dot searched for the source. A forceful spray of water from behind, warned Dot of the next assault—she braced herself as a pectoral fin slammed down on the baidarka, grazing her arm as it landed. Táan dug in hard with his paddle, “C’mon—pull! We need to get clear of this!” As their boat lurched forward, Dot saw a long shape following them underneath the water’s surface. She recognized the lopsided saddle patch at once. Saka! Why are you doing this? Leaning outboard to track the whale, Dot watched him dive. “Kij’—get back in your cockpit!” Táan shouted. Dot ignored his pleas, straining to catch a glimpse of Saka. All at once, she saw the whale’s face reappear from the murky depth—shooting toward the surface with increasing speed. She leaned back and grabbed hold of the cockpit as Saka emerged like a rocket, pitching the baidarka onto its side. The whale fell backwards shaking his head, his mouth open; rows of sharp teeth visible. Táan grabbed his paddle. “Holy shit—that’s Saka! What’s happened? Dot shook her head with an expression of concern. “We’d better get as far away as we can until he calms down,” he shouted. Dot touched Táan’s shoulder. As he turned to face her, she pointed toward her ears, shaking her head back and forth. “What—he can’t hear us?” he asked. Dot nodded. Then, touching her fingers to her forehead, she looked directly at Táan, spiraling her palm outward in circles that grew larger as they moved toward him. Táan watched her actions intently and replied, “So, Saka can’t use his, uh…echolocation whatchamacallit—is that it?” She nodded her head vigorously. Yes! That’s it! That’s why he’s so shaken up—I know it.
Kim shouted, pointing at the dorsal fin as it sped toward an exposed reef. Dot doused the sails and pushed her blade deep into the water. Táan followed her lead and together, the three paddlers aimed the baidarka north by northeast, fighting against wind and current. As they came alongside Saka, Dot tapped the hull, the whale closed in on the boat. As Saka’s face came closer to the surface, Dot spied blurry red markings under his eye patch. She strapped her paddle onto the deck and leaned out for a closer look. Saka’s head broke through the foam of a large swell and Dot realized the red marks were blood, coming from the orca’s eye. Glancing at the shore of Rabbit Island, Dot gauged their distance from the reef. Suddenly, Saka dove; rising seven-feet out of the water in front of them. “Turn—now! We’re going to hit him!” Kim shouted from the bow.
The baidarka collided with Saka’s pectoral fin as swells crashed against the hull. Saka’s high-pitched screeches rent the air. He slammed sideways back into the ocean, drunkenly swimming toward the shallow bay. Táan cried out, “He’s going to beach himself—if he doesn’t hit those rocks first!”
Kim looked back and shouted to Dot. “What do we do?”
Dot’s thoughts raced madly through her head. She’d never seen her long-time companion behave like this before, not even when they’d rescued him as a calf. She had to act fast. Dot pointed toward the shore and dug in with her paddle. Táan and Kim joined in and they raced after the orca. Once the baidarka was between the whale and the rocks, Dot placed her paddle inside the cockpit and climbed onto the deck. Táan looked at her in disbelief. “Are you nuts? You are not getting in the ocean with that whale, Kijii!” Dot merely shook her head and lowered herself into the frigid water. She had to connect with Saka. It will be alright—it has to be alright. Táan grasped her arm and held it tightly. “Please—please don’t do this Kij’. Listen to me—he is not safe right now.” Dot placed her hand on his, then took a deep breath and slipped below the waves.
The ocean was eerily quiet underneath the surface. Dot’s eyes snapped open as she scrambled to get her bearings. At last, the dim light of day filtered through in corkscrew reflections above her. She quelled the instin
ct to gasp for breath in the icy surroundings. As she searched into the gloomy depths, Dot waited for the familiar vibration inside her chest; confirmation that the whale’s sonar had located her. She spread her arms and churned through the water. At that moment, a black rostrum with white throat rose in front of her. Two large eyes stared into her own. She was face-to-face with Saka.
Shaken by the orca’s abrupt appearance, Dot reached out to touch his face. Saka lowered his head and retreated. Instinctively, Dot grabbed onto one of his wide pectoral flippers. The agitated whale rolled onto its side. Dot hugged the whale, placing her cheek against his chest, she listened to his rapid breathing and tremulous clicks. With a slow, deliberate movement, she ran her hands down the side of Saka’s head. The blood coming from his eyes was still present, even under water. All at once, a sharp ping resonated through the water. Dot felt a stabbing pain erupt in her ears. Saka gave a frantic wail and spiraled toward the sea floor. Dot gripped his sides as he dove; her ears ached and her chest felt as if it would burst. The whale continued his descent, advancing further out to the channel. Another loud ping rang through Dot’s skull and she could feel Saka’s muscles tense. She closed her eyes as the pressure inside her head increased. That noise—make it stop! She struggled for air and her thoughts became jumbled. Am I to be dragged to the bottom to become a sgáan as well? Is this how it’s supposed to end? And then, the faint but reassuring sound of Reba’s voice cut through the mayhem. “Ishla, 'kajáa—rise and be a leader.”
Dot realized what she must do. She ran her hand along Saka’s torso and flattening her palm against his head, tapped a continuous pattern. The orca’s large eye rolled backward, focusing on Dot’s face. As she stared into that dark orb, Dot continued her tapping—messaging her instructions. Please Saka, you must listen to me before it’s too late!
Sea of a Thousand Words Page 30