Druid's Descendants

by Mark Philipson

  The blue dot flashed red, and filled the field of vision in one eye when Sobuku focused on it. It faded as the warmth under her thumb dissipated.

  Once the consent form was on the crystal network, Harado stood up and said, “As outlined by the team leader in the consent form, psych treatments are to begin immediately.”

  Sobuku expected to be taken to a laboratory and hooked up to half a dozen machines. Instead, Harado lifted her necklace and held up a multi-faceted talisman. “Look at the stone,” she said in a calm voice. “Concentrate on the beams of light reflecting off the surface.”

  Sobuku was out seconds after she heard Harado say, “Your eyes will be betting heavy.” Snapping fingers brought Sobuku out of the hypnotic state. “How long was I under?” Sobuku asked Harado.

  “About 15 minutes … long enough for me to instill some suggestions into your subconscious mind,” Harado answered.

  “Will I notice any difference?”

  “Probably in an extreme situation,” Harado narrowed her eyes and nodded.

  “Can you give me an example?” Sobuku leaned in.

  “Sure, imagine being strapped into a chair in a small room and a fire breaks out. The post-hypnotic I implanted will delay the panic attack until the room is filled with smoke.”

  By the then I’ll be dead from smoke inhalation, Sobuku thought. “How many more sessions will I have to do?”

  “We’ll be reinforcing adrenaline booster treatments with hypnotic suggestions every day until mission launch.”

  7

  AFTER BEING INSTRUCTED to drink a liter of of clear liquid in over the course of five minutes, Sobuku and Kenshin, both stricken with severe cases of diarrhea, spent the remainder of the afternoon confined to quarters, sitting on the toilet or showering until the urge came back.

  The evacuation procedure tapered off. Sobuku was about to take off her robe and dress for dinner when the notification reminder buzzed. A voice in the hallway, amplified by sensors on the door, said, “MS Sato, you are requested to report to the Adrenaline Boosting Process Laboratory (APBL) in 15 minutes.” Sobuku pointed the identity patch emblazoned on the shoulder of the robe and downloaded the directory flashing on the information screen embedded in the door.

  After donning a uniform, Sobuku left the apartment and arrived at the ABP Lab five minutes early. Kenshin appeared exactly one minute prior to the start of the session. The thought, He’s never late and he’s never early, ran through Sobuku’s head as Kenshin took a seat in one of two high-backed steel chairs.

  Senior Physiological Assessment Officer Kondo entered the room. “Mission Specialist Sato, you may take a seat next to Mission Commander Kamura.” Once Sobuku and Kenshin were strapped in, Kondo continued, “Because MC Kamura has undergone adrenaline boosting treatments before, I’ll be directing all my instructions, comments, and/or suggestions to MS Sato.

  “Because of the need for the subject undergoing treatment to be conscious, a powerful anesthetic will be applied to your neck.”

  Just as the words left Kondo’s mouth, Sobuku felt a pinch at the base of her neck. A numbing sensation followed and crept down to her shoulders and up to her ears.

  “Do you want to see the procedure, MS Sato?” Kondo asked.

  Sobuku thought about this for a few seconds. Under normal circumstances, these kind of medical procedures would make her squeamish. She might feel compelled to look away. Those feelings seemed to be a distant memory now.

  “Yes,” Sobuku answered and looked at the reflection in the overhead mirror. A technician centered a red circle on a crosshair overlay on Sobuku’s neck. When the circle changed from red to green, the technician applied pressure to a pistol grip he held in one hand. From the barrel of the pistol, a drill-bit inched forward and spun into a blur.

  Sobuku winced as the tip entered her skin. She looked away from the mirror. When she felt no pain, Sobuku looked at the mirror in time to see another technician drawing blood away from the hole with a flexible tube. She became transfixed on the crimson fluid and the sucking sound.

  As the drilling team stepped back, Kondo stepped forward holding a scalpel in his right hand. With his free hand, he adjusted the chair to incline and straighten. When Sobuku was in an upright position, Kondo slid open an access panel near the top of the chair and twisted a knurled ball on the backend of the scalpel. The tip glowed. Kondo reached out and plunged the blade deep into Sobuku’s neck. Life support systems, built into thousands of microscopic pins in the chair, kept Sobuku alive as the knife cut through the bone and into the nerve endings of her spinal cord. Kondo carved out a circle of flesh and bone with the red-hot tip.

  In one motion, Kondo placed a bloody cylinder into the hole with his left hand as he extracted the blade with his right. “Your chip has been tapped and plugged, MS Sato. The plug will fuse with your metabolism in five to seven minutes.”

  The chair returned to the prone position. Kenshin dismissed the screen he’d been studying and looked at Sato. “It’s a good thing you only have to go through that once,” he smiled and nodded.

  “All part of the job, Mission Commander Kamura,” Sobuku wasn’t sure if she was trying to sound para-military or the adrenaline booster was kicking in.

  Kenshin took on a serious look as he said, “Very well, Mission Specialist Sato.”

  A pair of rods folded out of the chairs. Suction cups attached to the ends adhered to Sobuku’s and Kenshin’s temples. Kondo said, “The cups will monitor heart rate, blood pressure, and respiration … as well as brain-wave activity.” Kondo nodded to a technician and indicated Kenshin’s chair. Kondo waved his hand over a black cylinder. From the base of the cylinder, a light glowed, intensifying until it cast long shadows on the walls.

  “While we’re waiting for MS Sato’s access plug to fuse, we’ll insert MC Kamura’s probe,” Kondo said.

  The access panel on Kenshin’s chair slid open. A technician pulled a flexible tube from a compartment on the smooth side of the cylinder. He stepped forward, inserted the 5 centimeter needle on the end of tube into the access point on Kenshin’s entry plug, and locked the tube into place.

  After one last look at Sobuku’s monitor, Kondo said, “MS Sato, your plug is ready for insertion.”

  As the adrenaline drug dripped into her spine, heat radiated and pulsated around the injection site. With each drop, Sobuku’s thoughts became clearer. Colors more vibrant. Chemical and Citizen smells mingled as pungent odors tickled her nostrils.

  Once a series of ten drops flooded the embedded chips, Kondo called out, “Begin hydration protection procedure!”

  Sobuku looked at her arms, a milky yellow secretion oozed out of her pores. A rotten stench drifted into the air.

  “What you smell is the final layer of impurities exiting your metabolism,” Kondo said. “Don’t be alarmed, the secretion will cure and harden in three minutes.”

  Three minutes later, the shimmering layer on Sobuku’s and Kenshin’s skin became translucent as it dried. The outer layer shrunk to the skin as it dried into a transparent shell.

  “Contraction process is complete,” Kondo said.

  The panic attack associated with the feeling of being wrapped in your own body fluids never came. Sobuku remained calm as Kondo and his assistants monitored the curing stages of the hydration protection shell.

  8

  WHEN THE HYDRATION protection fully cured, the chip probes were released and painstakingly removed from the access plugs on Sobuku and Kenshin’s neck. The needles couldn’t come into direct contact with the walls of the plug. Needles touching nerve endings could result in side effects as severe as death or paralysis or minor as a headache or stiff neck when a probe crashed.

  The extraction went smoothly. Sobuku’s pulse returned to normal as she breathed a sigh of relief. The crew left the procedure room and waited in an adjacent recovery room.

  Masato Hasegawa met with physiological officer Shuji Kondo and psychological officer Tomiku Harado in Masato’s office. “I�
��m going to address Mission Specialist Sobuku Sato’s physical fitness report first,” Masato said, projecting a display on the glass desktop to an overhead monitor. A body image, taken before the training program began, sat next to an image taken minutes ago. The most recent image indicated a 10.8 per cent increase in muscle mass. Masato asked Kondo, “How is the subject doing?”

  “The subject is responding well,” Kondo answered. “I expected an increase in a range from 9.2 to 9.6, 10.8 is excellent.”

  “What do you attribute this to, Officer Kondo?”

  Kondo turned to Tomiku Harado.

  “MS Sato displayed a positive acceptance mode when I placed her under hypnosis. She has a deep-seated inner drive to succeed in whatever she does,” Officer Harado answered.

  Masato wondered if this could be a direct result of Sobuku’s Morgance bloodline. “Would you elaborate on MS Sato’s psych evaluation, Officer Harado?”

  “The monitoring process during the initial adrenaline enhancement procedure indicated a definite erosion of phobias: her reaction, or, should I say, lack of reaction to being encased in her own bodily fluids drying on her skin indicates her fear of confined spaces is fading.”

  “And MC Kamura’s psych report, Officer Harado?” Masato switched records from Sobuku to Kenshin.

  “Captain Kamura’s psych evaluation is unchanged. He is as mentally fit for duty today as the first day he began service,” Officer Harado answered.

  Officer Kondo remained silent. Masato switched to Kenshin’s physical record. “Is MC Kamura’s physical fitness report as good as his mental fitness report,” he asked Officer Kondo.

  “We discovered a weak point in Kamura’s circulatory system …” Kondo trailed off.

  “And this is?” Masato asked.

  “I noticed a fluctuation in Kamura’s heart rate,” Kondo nodded. “It seems to be located in the aortic valve.”

  “Is this dangerous? Is it enough to take Kamura out of the mission?”

  “I can’t answer that,” Kondo shook his head. “At the moment, it’s just an irregularity, but, I thought you’d want to be informed of the fluctuation, Director Hasegawa.”

  “Indeed,” Masato nodded. In the minutes of silence that followed, Masato went over the situation: he needed to field this mission within six days. It would take two or three days to locate a replacement pilot. Masato had chosen Kenshin Kamura because of his service record. He asked Kondo, “What are the chances Kamura’s heart will give out before he completes the mission?”

  Kondo cleared his throat and then replied, “I couldn’t answer that question with any degree of accuracy.”

  “As an estimation, perhaps,” Masato suggested.

  “Right now … I’d say one in 10,000,” Kondo nodded. “These numbers could change. If his condition deteriorates the chances of Kamura having a cardiac episode increase.”

  Masato turned to Harado. “Officer Harado, you’ve yet to weigh in on this, what is your opinion?”

  “My expertise lies in the psychological, not the physiological.” Harado answered the question and evaded it at the same time.

  “Psychplogical or physical, Officer Harado, you’re opinion is valuable to me. Please proceed.”

  “In my opinion, Kenshin Kamura should be removed from this mission.”

  Masato looked at Kondo. “Do you you concur with this diagnosis? Include your reasoning in your reply.”

  “I don’t concur,” Kondo shook his head. “The chances of Kamura becoming incapable of performing his duties are remote, probably one in 30,000 —”

  Harado broke and asked, “What happens to those odds when a 30 day exposure to adrenaline enhancement is factored in?”

  “There is insufficient data to support those findings,” Kondo shrugged. “It’s never been done before.”

  “Enough debate,” Masato said. “Officer Kondo, Officer Harado, you may return to your quarters. I’ll make the final decision on this matter.”

  When he was alone, Masato reviewed the information: on one hand, Kenshin Kamura was in active service, he understood the risks involved, on the other hand, the upcoming mission could prove to be one of the most significant discoveries in 3,000 years. The mission to the North Pole must proceed on schedule.

  Something about Sobuku’s profile kept bubbling to the surface. Under the first round of hypnosis, she’d shown a high-level of acceptance and adaptability.

  Masato made his decision: Mission Specialist Sobuku would learn how to pilot the ship-whale if Mission Coordinator Kenshin Kamura was rendered incapable of performing his duties.

  For the next six days, Sobuku and Kenshin began each day at midnight, walking ten kilometers to the shore, swimming one kilometer to a small inshore island and swimming back to the beach. Two hours on the climbing simulator followed.

  Programs for embedded chips were written, the code implanted along with daily adrenaline drips. Having no need for sleep, Sobuku and Kenshin spent every spare moment studying. The captain pored over updated operating manuals. As mission specialist, Sobuku concentrated on the scientific equipment to be used in analyzing weather conditions at the pole. Her conditioning was so extreme she failed to notice the part of the lesson plan detailing the operation of a sperm whale converted to a submarine.

  On the evening of the sixth day of training, Masato addressed the crew of the Gato Kujira Maru. “Tomorrow, this voyage begins. The ship has been modified to accommodate another passenger and the equipment needed to complete the mission. The ship’s oxygen intake and sea-water purification systems have been enhanced. The crystal power cell has been removed. The magnetic fibers realigned to maximum strength. We sail at dawn. Are there any questions?”

  Sobuku and Kenshin remained silent. They both responded, “Negative.”

  9

  ON MIDNIGHT OF the sixth day, instead of beginning physical training, Sobuku and Kenshin rode the elevator to a level not indicated in any directories: Number 12.

  The Gato Kujira Maru lay on a partially submerged ceramic ramp. On either side, dynamic core engines hissed, pumping constant streams of viscous life-support fluids into a system of large-diameter, flexible tubes. One tube penetrated the blowhole and carried oxygen to the ship. The remaining tubes, inserted into access ports under the pectoral fins, forced nutrients into thick layers of blubber.

  Sobuku and Kenshin stepped back as sea-water from opening gates flooded the chamber.

  When the water-level rose to within one meter of the platform, Sobuku and Kenshin climbed an access ladder to a system of catwalks on an upper level.

  The ceramic and Coreglass tube implanted in the Gato’s blowhole extended upward until coming to a halt in a circular opening on the floor of the cat-walk.

  “Time to board,” Kenshin said.

  Sobuku had been studying the ship-whale for the past six days, she knew that her quarters were beneath the bridge and she would have to board first. Once the life-support systems were removed and the breathing tube contracted back into the blowhole and capped off, the passengers would be living inside a whale’s head until reaching the North Pole.

  Oh well, Sobuku thought as she watched the ceramic tube shrinking with the rising water level. The crew, Sobuku in the lead, lowered themselves into the tube and climbed down the bridge access ladder fused into curved ceramic walls.

  Sobuku continued to the lower deck. Kenshin sat in the pilot’s chair, monitoring life-support systems. Below, Sobuku heard the order for final blowhole contraction and life support umbilical release.

  The breathing tube wound down flush with the Gato’s hide. The dome cap twisted, exposing a mesh made up of thousands of holes. Microscopic screens spanned the holes. Sobuku knew this was the heart of the system, if it failed, the ship-whale wouldn’t be able to draw and filter oxygen directly from the water. The Coreglass battery embedded in the ship’s head powered devices used by the Citizen crew. It had been cleaned and enhanced to power the tools Sobuku would use on the ice-shelf.

 
“Jettison umbilicals,” Kenshin told the image of the dock technician on the screen.

  “Done, Captain Kamura,” the image responded.

  The walls shuddered as the life support tubes backed out. Tons of whale blubber filled the void in an instant. Scar tissue sealed the skin as the front ends of the tubes left the ship’s body.

  The Gato thrashed its tail. The bridge followed the trajectory of the head and the arching back. Sobuku listened to the different audible alarms as each one of the ship’s systems came back online: a massive heart pumped blood through log-sized veins. cavernous lungs inhaled and exhaled, filtering thousands of gallons of sea-water into oxygen rich air with each breath.

  Kenshin linked into the whale-ship’s sonar broadcast, aiming the signal dead ahead. The ship righted itself and leveled-off. Sobuku saw Kenshin invoke the downward facing sonar screen. The captain located an area of the rock wall reflecting what submariners called a soft return. The ship dove after translating Kenshin’s eye movements and the bridge followed on a 90° incline

  As the Gato leveled off, Kenshin switched the sonar signals to visual mode. The uneven surface of the wall fell away, revealing the entrance to a smooth-sided tunnel. Captain Kamura centered the whale ship’s body on cross-hairs projected over the image and then called for forward motion. A gentle flick of the massive flukes pushed the great head into the hole.

  For over three hours, hard sonar reflections reverberated down from the conning tower to the research deck below as the Gato passed within a few meters of the tunnel walls.

  We must be directly under the trail we took the shore, Sobuku reasoned. Seeing the overhead display in the conning tower confirmed her suspicions. The ship followed the gradual incline of the walking path as it wound down the one-thousand meter cliffs to the sea.

  Sonar signals changed, increasing toward the bow and tapering off at the stern. The Gato swam fee of the tunnel and entered the inshore waters of the northern protected zone.