by Mark Wandrey
“Every trip, no matter how far you travel, takes exactly 170 hours. A strange coincidence.”
For the last fifteen minutes of the class, students were allowed to use their tablets to access the GalNet. Terry tried looking up scuba diving and found they didn’t have a direct analogue. However, he found the respirators Doc, Yui, and he had tested. They’d been developed by a race called the Selroth, who reminded him of an old movie called Creature from the Black Lagoon. Yuck!
Yui held up her tablet, showing an alien that looked like a squirrel with a huge pistol; a Flatar. “Cute!” she said. Terry had his doubts an alien with a huge gun would like to be called cute. He looked it up himself. Flatar—a mercenary race usually partnered with Tortantula. Looking up the latter, he gasped. A wasp crossed with a spider. Holy crap! He almost held it up for Yui to see, just for the shock factor, then decided against it.
The rest of the day went by without anything nearly as interesting. He said goodbye to Yui and fired his bike up, heading toward the inter-island shuttle. His dad had given him a pass just after he got back, and he regularly rode the high-speed boat to Honolulu to visit his mom. He hadn’t gone that weekend because he’d gone diving, and now he felt guilty.
He was lucky; the boat was just finishing loading. He swiped the pass and walked his bike onboard. By the time he’d gotten a seat, the boat was leaving the harbor and already climbing onto its hydrofoils.
“We’ll arrive in Honolulu in 15 minutes,” the announcer said.
Just enough time, Terry thought, and went to the onboard snack bar. Back in his seat, he munched the obligatory hotdog and Coke as the ocean raced past at 120 kph.
Honolulu had all kinds of ridiculous rules against riding powered bicycles like his on the sidewalks, and even more rules against riding them on the roads. What they didn’t have was a way of stopping him. He always grinned as he zipped along the sidewalk, ignoring the annoyed pedestrians and the occasional yell from a cop. He got to Queen’s Medical Center 10 minutes after the boat docked, less than half an hour after leaving school.
“Personal record,” he said as he locked the bike into a space on the rack outside the main entrance. A woman walking past looked askance at him, and he smiled back, which didn’t help. Bike secured, he swung his backpack off the bike frame onto his shoulder and headed inside.
The receptionist barely looked up when he walked past. When he got to the elevator, he swiped the pass they’d given him, giving him access to the 29th floor, where the coma-care ward was, and where his mom had been transferred after she’d been pronounced stable.
When the doors opened, he immediately noticed a commotion by the nurse’s station. An orderly looked up at him and back to the tumult. Terry wasn’t sure he’d seen the man before. Figuring it didn’t have anything to do with him, he walked to the “Restricted Access” door and used the pass again. It slid aside with a slight buzz, and he walked in.
Terry took out his tablet and began calling up saved images. He’d kept captures of the aliens they’d seen, along with a few other things like mask-camera footage from their last dive. He planned to talk about it with his mom. He also had a book he’d been reading on the tablet as well. He was busy scrolling through pictures when he pushed the door open to her room, so he didn’t see her immediately.
“Terry?”
His tablet and backpack clattered to the floor when he looked up and saw her sitting up in bed looking at him.
“Mom?!” he gasped.
“Hi, Baby.”
Terry nearly launched himself into her arms, and once again found himself crying. She wrapped him in the most awesome hug he could ever remember having.
“Hey, you’re not supposed to be in here!” someone snapped from the door.
“This is my son,” his mom said. “He most certainly belongs in here.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Clark,” the man, a doctor, said. “I meant we’re still evaluating your suddenly changed status.”
Terry pulled back and looked at her. The bandages that used to cover her head were gone, and he could see a little scar just above her right eye where they’d operated a week ago. It looked completely healed. How was that even possible?
“I’m fine enough to visit my boy while you do your tests,” she said.
“What happened?” Terry wondered. “The doctors were talking about surgery to maybe relieve pressure, or something?”
“Nobody knows,” she said. “I woke up this morning like any other morning. I feel great!”
“Do you remember the accident?”
She squinted and made a face. “Sort of. I know we were trying to talk to that big humpback bull when Matthew played something he’d recorded, and the whale...”
“It hit the submarine,” Terry said.
She put a hand to her mouth. “Are the crew okay? What about your father?”
“Dad’s fine,” he said. “The crew were killed.”
“Oh, my God,” she said. “That’s horrible.” She looked outside at the sunny Honolulu afternoon. “How long have I been here? What’s the date?”
“You were hurt August 2nd,” he said. “Today’s the 23rd.”
“I’ve been in here three weeks?” He nodded. “Where’s your dad?” She looked past him at the doctor.
“We tried calling him at your work number. They said he was in Seattle. Something about a television commercial?”
His mom looked at the doctor, uncomprehending. “A commercial? For the institute?” The man shrugged. “I need to figure out what’s going on. Where’s my computer?”
“Your husband has all your personal goods.”
“Damnit,” she said.
“Here, Mom,” Terry said, and handed her his tablet.
She took the computer and looked at it. “Yeah, this should work.” She signed into the internet and logged into the institute’s server. Two passwords later, she was into her personal account and reading emails, as well as institute messages. Over the next few minutes, her expression went from curious, to confused, then straight into anger.
Uh, oh, Terry thought.
* * * * *
Chapter 14
PCRI, Molokai, Hawaii, Earth
August 29th, 2036
Terry met the cab at the curb in front of the institute. A robotic version, it rolled up and opened the door. It took his mother a few extra seconds to get out, leaning on the cane they’d given her at the hospital.
“Everyone here, Son?” she asked.
“Yes, Mom.”
She stopped next to him as the cab pulled away and looked at him. “I know you can’t be happy about this.” He shrugged. “Your dad—”
“I know,” he said. “You don’t have to go into it.”
She sighed and said, “It’s impossible to be sure how this will play out.”
“I know that, too,” he said. Terry followed her up to the office floor and the main meeting room.
All the doctors of the PCRI were there. As soon as she opened the door, a round of applause greeted her. She smiled sadly and held up a hand.
“Welcome back, Madison,” Dr. Patel said.
“Your recovery was amazing,” Dr. Jaehnig said.
She looked at Terry before answering. “I think there was outside help, but it really doesn’t matter right now.” She walked slowly with the cane over to one of the easels, which had been moved from Terry’s father’s office. She limped over to the most spectacular, “Killer School.” She lifted it off the easel, examining the art, then snorted and dropped it to the floor.
“I had nothing to do with any of this and never would,” she said. “All this...” She reached out and knocked the “Atlantis Reborn” poster off its easel. “All this exploitation. I’m disappointed you all went along with it.”
The circle of scientists gawked in horrified shock. Several looked at each other, while some wouldn’t meet her gaze. Terry sat in a chair by the door and felt horrible. Horrible that his father had lied to him. Horrible that he�
�d told his mother about the lies. Finally, horrible that he was in the middle of what looked to be the end of his life as it was.
“Madison?”
“Yes, Sanjay?”
“Did Matthew arrange your injury?”
The room fell deathly silent, except for the sound of Terry gasping. His mother turned and seemed to remember he was sitting there. “Terry, can you go to our apartment and wait?”
He didn’t want to, though at the same time, he didn’t want to be there. He got up and left without saying a word. Their apartment was empty, of course, and Terry looked out a south-facing window. A rain storm was slowly moving in. On the other end of the apartment, a window overlooked the bottlenose habitat. It only took a second to realize they weren’t all there.
Terry got off the elevator and entered the bottlenose habitat. For a change, he wasn’t greeted by the customary calls of his name. A female swam over and looked up at him.
“Hula, is that you?”
“I Hula,” the bottlenose said.
“Some of the Sunrise Pod are gone.”
“Yes. Sad. Not with pod.”
“What happened?” he asked.
“Warden take. Go big shore.”
Dad took them with him to Seattle, Terry realized. What the heck is he doing with several bottlenoses in Seattle? He found his answers a few minutes later.
Bored and worried about what was happening in the meeting room, Terry took his computer and opened a browser window. He’d been thinking about seeing if he could access the GalNet from home on the issued machine. The teachers said they could, though their access was limited to a certain number of users at the same time. He’d just logged on when his phone beeped for attention. It was Yui.
“Terry!” she said when he answered, obviously excited.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Have you seen the news?”
“News?” He wondered what he would have cared about on the news. “What news?”
“Terry, your dad; he was arrested in Seattle.”
Terry didn’t even say goodbye, he just hung up and quickly pulled up a regular browser. It only took a few seconds to find the story. “Hawaiian Marine Biologist Arrested on Charges of Animal Cruelty and Fraud.”
He quickly read the article. Inset within the story was a short video from a stringer showing his father being walked out of a hotel in handcuffs. Being walked out along with him were the two people Terry had seen with him just the other day. “Dr. Matthew Clark, co-director of the PCRI in Molokai, Hawaii, was arrested and charged today on multiple charges of animal cruelty and conspiracy to defraud investors.
“Dr. Clark was in Seattle, meeting with a large group of potential investors. They were being pitched a theme park, which would operate in the open ocean and highlighted Clark’s modified dolphins and killer whales.” The article hypertexted to another article on what the institute had been doing with the cetaceans. “However, Dr. Clark brought four of the modified animals with him, putting on a display at the Seattle Aquarium. Dr. Maia Taumata happened to be in town and attended the presentation, which was open to the public.
“Dr. Taumata, from Auckland, is head of the Earth Republic Animal Rights Commission. One of their more recent tasks has been to ensure that alien flora and fauna isn’t accidentally introduced to Earth. However, they also see to it that native life isn’t exploited illegally by aliens. Upon investigating one of the dolphins in Dr. Clark’s care, she determined that the animal had undergone implantation of a brain augmenting apparatus known in the Galactic Union as a pinplant, and not a simple translator, as Dr. Clark had professed.
“The animals were taken into protective custody, and Dr. Clark and two unnamed associates were arrested. We contacted the PCRI this morning and were surprised to talk to Dr. Madison Clark, Dr. Matthew Clark’s wife. She was injured on an expedition several weeks ago and was purported to be in a coma.
“Dr. Madison Clark provided us with a prepared statement. ‘The PCRI is not in the business of developing attractions of any kind. To the contrary, our mission statement is to provide rehabilitation for cetaceans who have themselves been the unfortunate victims of such misguided attempts to profit off their interesting nature. My husband’s endeavors were undertaken without my knowledge, and as such, the approval of the PCRI’s Board of Directors. We are severing all dealings with Dr. Matthew Clark forthwith.’ Considering the statement came from his wife, it was very strongly worded.
“Dr. Taumata further stated that investigators would be arriving in Hawaii in the next week to discuss the matter with Dr. Madison Clark, and decide on a course of action going forward.”
“I wonder if I’m going to jail, too,” Terry wondered aloud in the empty apartment.
Hours later, his mother limped in. She took one look at her son and knew he’d found out.
“You had Dad arrested?”
“No, Terry, your dad did that to himself. We fired him.”
“But why did they arrest him?” he asked.
“Well, the charges of fraud are a direct result of making deals on behalf of the institute, which he was not legally allowed to do. He made promises, signed contracts, and took money.”
“To help you,” Terry said, afraid he’d cry again, and furious at himself for it.
“No, Terry.” She limped over and sat on the couch next to him. “I know your dad told you insurance wouldn’t cover what we were doing, but that was just another lie. No, it didn’t cover all my treatments, or the payouts to the dead crew of the sub, but it did cover most of it. Our backers and the government would have helped with the rest.”
“Then why did he do it?”
“I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask him that ourselves.” She shrugged. “I want to think it’s just a misguided attempt at helping the cetaceans.”
“You want to, but you don’t think that.”
She shook her head no. “I’m afraid there’s a lot of money involved. A lot of it went right into his personal account.”
“How much?”
“Several million dollars. Maybe as much as $50 million.”
“Oh,” Terry said. “What Dr. Patel said in the meeting room?” His lip quivered a little. “Do you think dad hurt you on purpose?”
“No,” she said, “it was just a horrible accident.”
“An accident he took advantage of.” His mother looked down. She reached out to put a hand on his arm, but Terry pulled away and walked to his room. She didn’t try to follow, and he closed the door behind him. He dropped into a chair and stared at the other wall of his room. His phone rang, and he ignored it. Eventually, he lost the battle against his emotions.
* * * * *
Chapter 15
PCRI, Molokai, Hawaii, Earth
September 11th, 2036
Terry got the chance to meet Dr. Maia Taumata briefly when she showed up with several Molokai police officers, a pair of Republic Marshalls, and some paperwork demanding she be allowed to inspect the cetaceans. Accompanying her were a pair of marine biologists and an alien who looked to Terry like a bipedal Pteranodon he’d read about a year before while studying dinosaurs. Only this one was a specialist in the pinplants the article talked about.
“Who are you?” Dr. Taumata asked when she saw him feeding the Wandering Pod. “A little young for an employee.” She was even shorter than she’d appeared in the internet article, and she had a funny tattoo on her lower lip.
“Terry Clark.”
“A relation to the doctors Clark, then?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’m their son.”
She’d nodded and gone about her business. They closed the institute to the public and proceeded to question the staff and then the cetaceans themselves. A week after the incident in Seattle, the four bottlenoses his father had taken to Seattle were flown home in a government flyer. Dr. Taumata had been worried about the bottlenoses’ seemingly depressed states until the four came back, at which point the Sunrise Pod instantly returned to thei
r formerly jubilant selves.
The morning of the 11th, Terry was asked to a meeting room, where he again met with Dr. Taumata. She had the alien he’d since found out was a Sidar with her, and one of the marine biologists. Since he was a minor, his mother was there as well.
“Now, Terry, you don’t have to say a thing if you don’t want to.”
“You don’t want me to lie, do you?”
“No, we’ll leave the lying to your father.” Terry looked askance, and she shook her head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. Just answer any questions they ask, unless it makes you feel uncomfortable. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Hi, Terry,” Dr. Taumata said, rising to shake his hand. “Do you remember me?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Good. This is Dr. Trudeau, a marine biologist like your parents.” He shook the man’s hand. “And this is Klaak; he’s a member of the Sidar race, a specialist in cybernetics and the devices known as pinplants. Do you know what those are?” Terry nodded.
“Before we begin, I need to establish something,” his mom said as she rose from the chair she’d been sitting in before Terry came in. “Terry is a minor and my child. He’s under no obligation to testify and is doing so on his own initiative, with my approval. If either of us don’t wish him to answer a question, he won’t.”
“Are you attempting to shield him from this inquiry, Dr. Clark?” the man named Trudeau asked. Terry had to listen carefully; his accent was fairly thick. He guessed by the sound and his name that he was French.
“I’m attempting to shield him from any culpability, because he’s too young to be either responsible, or to fully understand his legal jeopardy.”