Sirens (The Blue Planets World series Book 2)

by Darcy Pattison

  20

  Old Friends

  December 25

  The Phoke staff member led Mom and Jake to an elevator and pushed the button for the sixth floor, the top floor. When the elevator doors opened, he led them down a white hallway, and opened a nondescript white door and motioned for them to enter.

  The room was dim with an observation window—smaller than the conference room’s window, but just as arresting. Glancing around, the room was a contrast to the starkness of the rest of the building. The walls were a warm oak paneling and were hung with massive paintings of ocean scenery or ocean life. A huge carved desk sat perpendicular to the window, and behind it sat Dr. Mangot. The desk was perfectly positioned so that she could see the room and the observation window at the same time. Leather wing chairs faced the desk.

  “Ah, here they are now,” Dr. Mangot said. Her voice, like everyone else’s, was that high pitch caused by the Tri-Mix air.

  From one of the chairs, a figure rose.

  “Dad?” Jake stopped still in shock.

  But Mom stepped forward, a hand held out, and said in a broken voice, “You’re here?”

  “I came with the news crews, disguised as a cameraman,” Dad said matter-of-factly.

  “How’d you know to come?” she demanded.

  Dad smiled wryly and reached out to hug Mom. “I didn’t want you to spend Christmas without me.”

  She looked up angrily and tapped his chest with her forefinger. “The truth?”

  “The Navy got wind of a secret press conference,” he said. “We decided to crash it. Good thing, too, because we don’t like surprises.” He glanced back at Dr. Mangot, and his expression went grim.

  Jake stepped forward. “Dad. There’s so much we have to tell you!”

  Dr. Mangot stood and came around from behind her desk. To Dad, she said, “I’ll step out if you like. You’ll want a private moment with your son.”

  “My adopted son,” Dad said automatically.

  “Your son, Blake. You don’t have to pretend with me; I’ve done the blood work.”

  Dad and Mom stared at her in horror. The only real secret they still had left was the fact that Dad was Jake’s real biological father. It was fine for the press to know that Dayexi’s son was here on Earth, especially when they all knew that Swann Quad-de, the prime minister of the largest country on Rison, was his father. But if they knew it was possible for Risonians and humans to pro-create together, there’d be chaos. It would seal the death warrant for Rison. Earth wouldn’t allow any aliens on the planet if they thought Risonians and Earthlings could intermarry and have kids. Even though Jake was created in a test tube, the knowledge of his lineage would evoke a new panic about letting the Risonians come to Earth. If the presence of the Mer had sealed their fate, Dr. Mangot could scuttle even the slimmest hopes left by releasing this information.

  Dad pulled Mom and Jake behind him and stepped forward to face his old college and medical school chum. Coldly, he asked, “Bea, what do you think you know?”

  “Test tube, right? It wasn’t. . .” For a moment Dr. Mangot’s forced smile wavered, as if she wasn’t sure of the facts.

  Grimly, Dad repeated, “Test tube.”

  Dr. Mangot gave a sigh of relief. “Anything else was unthinkable!”

  “What do you want?” Dad’s normally olive skin was blanched pale with anger.

  A dull anger burned in Jake’s mind, too. As always, he was just a pawn in a bigger game.

  “Don’t get so huffy and protective,” Dr. Mangot said casually. “I don’t want much.”

  “What?” Dad’s fists were tight, and he jammed them into his jacket pocket.

  Dr. Mangot took her time walking back around her desk. Her dark hair was pulled back into a severe pony tail that swung lightly. She pulled out the leather chair and sat. Leaning forward, arms on the desk, she waved at the leather chairs. “Please. Sit.”

  Numbly, Mom and Dad sank into the leather. Rigid with anger, Jake stood behind Dad’s chair.

  Dr. Mangot steepled her fingers and tilted her head. Her thick pony tail swung the opposite direction, giving her a balanced look. Her voice was calm, reasonable. “We have a mutual problem, and I just want to be sure we are on the same page for a solution.”

  Restless, Dad readjusted, inching forward to sit on the edge of the chair.

  Dr. Mangot continued, “Because of the illegal invasion of our waters by the Risonians—”

  Mom started to protest, but Dr. Mangot held up her hand. Even with the Tri-Mix, her voice was husky with emotion. “Let me finish. Earth’s waters now contain Risonian organisms. I could say that our waters are contaminated. Or that you’ve brought invasive species with you deliberately. But all I’ll say is this: a Risonian organism is causing Mer folk to get sick. I’ve isolated it in the lab, but I can’t find anything that will affect it.” Now her voice deepened with passion. “I need to find a cure, and I’m very practical. It’s too late to go backwards and prevent it. We’ve got to find a cure. And for that, I want a medical expedition to Rison. Before it’s too late.”

  Dad’s jaw literally dropped. He shook his head and visibly tried to compose himself. He started to speak, stopped, and ran a hand across his face. Finally, he managed to say, “You want to go to a dying planet for medical research? Are you mad? What if it implodes while you’re there?”

  “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Dr. Mangot’s gaze was steady, unyielding. She knew what she wanted, and she knew how to get it. Even if everyone around her disagreed.

  Jake clearly understood the Phoke’s changing landscape: They had new information that a Risonian organism, probably the umjaadi, were causing illness among the Phoke and was threatening their existence. They needed research on the organism in its natural habitat on Rison. But to get to Rison, they needed a spaceship. Which meant that they must announce to the Earth politicians for the first time that they existed.

  Their old goal: Prevent the Mer from being detected.

  Their new goal: Negotiate with the Earth politicians to get some Phoke doctors up to Rison to seek a cure.

  Earth politicians were known for stalling; by contrast, the Phoke decision making process was lightning fast. Their survival depended upon it.

  Wait. An awful thought just occurred to him. “Is that what’s wrong with Em?”

  “You know Emmeline Tullis?”

  “Yes! Does she have an umjaadi infection?” Jake’s voice almost broke. He’d suspected that she was a Phoke, of course. Why else would she be here in Aberforth Hills for her illness?

  “Yes,” said Dr. Mangot. “Her case is one of the worst. Wait. What did you call it?”

  Jake was stunned. This last month, all the heartache and worry about Em, it had been because Risonians had created Seasteads on Earth! His people had given her an illness that could kill her because it was so alien to Earth. The irony struck him physically, and, weak-kneed, he sank heavily on the arm of his mother’s chair. He whispered, “Is Em still sick?”

  “No. For now, we’ve controlled the illness, and she feels good. But we don’t know if she’ll relapse or not.”

  Mom said, “That’s your friend? The swimmer?”

  Jake nodded. “Is she here? Can I see her?”

  Dr. Mangot said, “She’s here and she’s fine. I’ll let you see her later if she feels up to it. But for now, we need to discuss this research mission. To find the—what did you call it?”

  Mom shook her head as if to wipe away confusion. “The umjaadi. It’s an organism that lives on the umjaadi starfish which are often displayed in a globe, like your snow globes, I’m told. We think one was accidentally broken apart in Puget Sound, and that’s where the organism escaped.”

  Dr. Mangot nodded. “It had to be something like that. I didn’t think you’d planned it.”

  “No. And we had no idea it would cause any problem,” Mom said. “Where would you even start such a mission?”

  “Where do the umjaadi thrive on your plan
et?”

  Mom shrugged. “I suppose in the south seas. That’s where the starfish are.”

  “True,” Jake said. “And that will make it even more difficult. But not impossible.” The southern Bo-See Coalition was violent and would likely protest any humans visiting their homelands. But then—the planet was about to implode so what difference did it make? Would they trade spaces on an evacuation ship for a smooth access to the south seas? And he couldn’t believe he was even thinking rationally about this crazy suggestion to send a research team to Rison. But if Em was sick and this was the only way to heal her—Jake would do anything to save her life. If they sent a research team to Rison, he had to be on it. He’d be able to smooth things with his step-father and with the culture. Oh, wow, the culture. Dr. Mangot had no idea of the problems such a research team would face.

  Dr. Mangot leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk. “I need to study the organism in its natural habitat and try to determine if there’s anything different about the waters there. Maybe pH levels or salinity levels or something that will help us control the umjaadi here. Why does it live in the south seas and not in the north seas? Temperature probably isn’t the limiting factor since it’s in Puget Sound, so what is it? There’s not enough time, no. But we’ve got to do something before it spreads everywhere here on Earth. Right now, it’s mostly in Puget Sound, but we’ve already found a few traces of it in the North Pacific. But it will spread.”

  Dad and Mom looked at each other and Mom gave a tiny nod, a stray curl escaping to bob in front of her eyes.

  Dad said, “Yes. We’ll support you on this.” He rapped his fist on her desk, though, and said more vehemently, “You didn’t have to blackmail us to get us to agree, you know.”

  Dr. Mangot shrugged, her face a stone mask. “I’ve found that it speeds up decisions.”

  “You’ve grown cold, Bea,” Dad said. “You were never this ruthless.”

  “With our big announcement this morning, I expect I’ll need to be even more ruthless the next few years. The Phoke will need strong advocates.”

  “And I would’ve been happy to be one of those advocates,” Dad said.

  Dr. Mangot stood and waved toward the door. “You can still be our advocate. The United Nations will be voting within the week.”

  “You have enough people in places of power to pull this off within a week?” Mom was incredulous.

  “Less. I want to launch on January 1. That’s just six days away,” Dr. Mangot said.

  Mom stood and put a light hand on Dr. Mangot’s arm. “I wish we could be friends.”

  Mangot’s face tightened into a grimace. “Of course. You want our influence.”

  “Of course,” Mom echoed. “But I also see the young idealistic woman who worked with Blake. He’s always praised you and your work. I wish I’d known that woman.”

  Mangot’s face softened and took on a far away look. “Yes. Back then, you and I could’ve been friends.”

  The door opened and a harried looking staff member scurried to hand Dr. Mangot a paper. She frowned.

  “Bad news?” Dad asked.

  “Weather report.” She slapped the paper angrily. “They’re predicting a major storm later this week. Depending on how fast it moves, we may have trouble traveling anywhere.”

  21

  Mother and Daughter

  December 25

  Inside the Fleming ancestral home, the library flickered with light from a television. A high-pitched announcer said, “The Phoke city is below us.”

  Bobbie Fleming flipped off the TV and sat back down beside Em. The room was only lit by a couple wall sconces over a fake fireplace, leaving the bookcases in deep shadow.

  The news was out. By the end of Christmas day, the whole world would know that the Mer or Phoke were real. By evening, as part of the Contingency Plan, the Phoke Bed and Breakfast website would go live, offering tourists an easy way to visit a Phoke city of choice. The accommodations would range from the warm waters of Jubal-Khan in the Indian Ocean to New Jack just outside Puget Sound. If all went as planned in the next 24 hours, the Mer B&B would be totally booked for the next year. Advertisements would flood the Internet with hundreds of images. Nothing had been left to chance in the Contingency Plan.

  “What do you think of the Contingency Plan?” Bobbie asked Em.

  It was a strange Christmas, Em thought wistfully. Mom, Dad, Marisa—there were no family here. Marisa was likely with her biological family anyway. She’d gone there last year and had a blast meeting relatives. It still hurt that she’d been more excited about that than joining their own family for Christmas. It was like being Em’s sister didn’t matter any more.

  This year, everything would be dominated by the Phoke announcement. That, combined with her illness, made Christmas a bust. So, she’d make the best of it.

  This was the first time she’d been alone with Bobbie since she’d talked with Dr. Bari. Em ignored the question about Phoke plans, cleared her throat and asked the question that she’d been dying to ask: “Did Damien slouch?”

  She’d expected Bobbie to be offended.

  Instead, she laughed, a sound of joy, as if an old memory had struck her and brought back remembered happiness. “Who told you that?”

  “Dr. Bari said I slouched like Damien.”

  Bobbie’s face drooped, and she shook her head ruefully, “He never could say anything nice about my boyfriends.”

  “What happened to Damien?” Em asked. This was a crucial question. “Is he still alive? You didn’t say.”

  “Damien died in a diving accident—drowned.” Bobbie drew in a deep breath. She turned to look straight at Em, and there were tears in her eyes. “Ironic, isn’t it? Either of us could have saved him if we’d been there.” She turned away quickly and leaned back on the couch, stretching and letting her legs extend straight ahead.

  Em nodded. She couldn’t imagine drowning or not being able to help someone who was drowning.

  Bobbie stayed stretched out, staring at the ceiling. It was a sort of stamped metal, dark with age. “That left me pregnant and without a boyfriend, much less a husband. In the depths of grief over his death, I was depressed. I had to call my brother for help. Max came and told me I had to let you be adopted.”

  “You let him decide my fate?” Em’s voice was bitter. She shifted, moving farther away from Bobbie.

  “Depression does strange things to people,” Bobbie said. “I tried hard to believe what Max told me. I had to make it through those days.” She sat up and looked directly at Em, holding up hands in appeal. “But he’s been wrong all along. He said I had escaped a big burden, but I think I lost a lot of joy. He said it would let me bury the pain; but it just buried me in shame. I tried to forget you, but I couldn’t stay away. I had to get glimpses of you someway. Do you remember playing t-ball? I watched a lot of your games.”

  “Really?” Doubt made Em shake her head.

  Bobbie’s voice grew excited. “Remember the game where you got five hits? And afterwards, your dad bought you chocolate ice cream at the snack bar, and you sat on the bleachers and ate it and watched your sister play her game. You were filthy with dirt and ice cream—” She looked away finally, her voice choked, but she forced out the last words. “—and you looked so beautiful.”

  Oh. But if this person was her mother and had loved her and followed her at a distance for years—if that was true, then so much time was lost to them. It couldn’t be true. Bobbie didn’t really care about Em. If she admitted that this woman loved her, then she also had to embrace the pain of separation for all those years.

  “Why did you listen to him?” Em asked, her voice full of anguish.

  Bobbie stood and paced in front of the bookcases. “He’s my twin brother,” she said simply.

  Bobbie had a brother, Em thought. But Bobbie had denied Em any family. No. No. No.

  She struggled to keep her voice level, but the rapid words spilled over, full of conviction, like a machine gun aimed
with precision at Bobbie. “No. No, you’re not my mother. Beth Tullis is my mother.” With each statement, she emphasized the word, Tullis. “You might have given me life, but Beth Tullis has given me a soul. My father is Randall Tullis. My sister is Marisa Tullis. I am Emmeline Tullis.”

  Bobbie dropped her head into her hands in a gesture of despair.

  But Em hardened her heart and kept talking. “I don’t want you as my mother. I want to go home and never see you again.”

  Bobbie looked up, her eyes wide and full of tears. “You don’t mean that.”

  Em turned away, refusing to look at her.

  After a few moments, Bobbie rose and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  Em heard Bobbie’s footsteps, then the door shutting. Her heart ached and she wanted to fling open the door and run to her mother’s arms. But she couldn’t. Bobbie Fleming wasn’t her mother.

  Her name was Emmeline Tullis.

  It wasn’t Fleming. Not Fleming. Never Fleming.

  Tullis.

  22

  Phoke.net

  December 25

  Dr. Mangot made a couple quick phone calls, trying to locate Em for Jake. “She’s checked out of the hospital, though she has to stay in town for a couple weeks so we can monitor her. I don’t know where she’s staying.”

  Jake suspected that wasn’t the whole truth, but he had no way to know for sure. “Who would know?”

  “I’ll check into it and get back to you.”

  Definitely a put off. But Jake had no way of searching for her himself.

  While he worried about Em, Mom and Dad went into full diplomatic mode. They asked for their cell phones to be returned, but that was refused. Instead, they received a private office with a phone line to the mainland. Jake knew they’d be busy for hours. Mom would have to talk with the Risonian Embassy, with leaders who already supported them to make sure they didn’t bail, and with leaders who opposed them to soothe the tensions raised by the Phoke’s presence. Dad’s Navy duties demanded that he first report in, and then allow a guide to show him around the city so he could give an eye-witness report to his superiors. Jake bet that the Pentagon was screaming for information after the Phoke announcement.