by Mark Wandrey
There was a great body of research on orca milk. Modern autochefs, which were able to synthesize a wide range of alien dietary requirements, allowed the institute scientists to produce a perfect replacement. The problem was getting the baby to take it.
Terry spent every moment he wasn’t sleeping, eating, or studying in the mini-tank with the baby trying to get him to feed. He knew the baby was a male thanks to some of the research.
The baby was listless from being separated from his mother at birth and was having difficulty swimming. “I think it’s the swimming problem,” he told Doc the first day after the baby was born.
“Why do you think that?” he asked.
“Well, I’ve watched hundreds of videos showing baby orcas feeding, and they all do it in motion. The baby’s having trouble swimming; he keeps spinning around.”
“We might be able to ask if they can spin the ship,” Doc said, scratching his chin.
“What difference does that make?” Terry asked.
“It creates pseudo gravity.” Terry stared. “You know the trick when you spin a glass of water over your head and it doesn’t spill?”
“Oh, right, we did that in class one year.”
“Yes, we’d be the glass of water out here. Pegasus would be the center of gravity.”
“How do we ask?”
“Let’s go talk to the captain.”
Terry was used to passing though Pegasus every day. His quarters were in Teddy Roosevelt and he moved over to Kavul Ato every day. He even stopped for a few minutes to see the Sunrise Pod on his ship, and once to see the Wandering Pod on Kavul Tesh. Like the Wandering Pod, they were heavily sedated and closely watched.
Even transferring between ships, he’d never seen more than the one hallway on Pegasus. After Doc made a call to the warship, he took Terry back aboard and they went to the lift. “Where are we going?” Terry asked.
“The CIC.”
“What’s a CIC?”
“Combat Information Center, sort of the brain for a warship.”
“What about a bridge, like Teddy?” The lift clanked and was pulled up in relation to the decks.
“Pegasus has a bridge, but they only use it for docking, when it’s better to have eyeballs.”
“Ships this big dock?”
“Sure,” Doc said, “there are bigger ships, and space stations.”
“What’s bigger? This is huge!”
“Well, regular battlecruisers are 20% bigger. Pegasus is an old design, after all. Heavy cruisers are bigger, but there aren’t many of those around. Battleships are freaking massive.”
“How massive?” Terry asked as he watched several aliens move along a deck they were passing.
“Like a kilometer on a side! They’re round, usually, or egg-shaped. Not fast, but bristling with guns, missiles, and shields.”
“Half a mile,” Terry said, letting out a low whistle. A Buma on the deck they’d just passed whistled back, and he was afraid he’d just said something funny. “Anything bigger?”
“I’ve heard about dreadnoughts, but never seen one. They must be a mile, at least. Probably just small enough to fit through a stargate.”
The lift stopped and they floated out. Halfway around was a strange corridor going inward. It only went a short distance and stopped at a massive armored door. Two Winged Hussars marines floated there. Unlike others Terry had seen, these were completely alert and armed. Dangerous-looking laser rifles were slung on their backs, and pistols on their hips. They also wore armor. This place must be very important, he thought.
“Can we help you?” the older of the two marines asked.
“Yes, Sergeant, I’m Doc Abercrombie, here to see the colonel.”
“Is he expecting you?”
“Yes, he is.”
The marine nodded and spoke into a microphone connected to a minimalistic headset. He waited a second, apparently listening to the reply, then nodded. “Is this Terry Clark?”
How many kids are going to turn up here? Terry wondered silently.
“Yes, he is. I’ll take responsibility for him.” Terry glowered, but the marine nodded, then looked at him.
“Don’t touch anything except marked handholds, do you understand?”
“Of course,” Terry said flippantly.
Doc put a none too gentle hand on his shoulder. “Look him in the eye and say, ‘Yes, sir.’”
Terry, while surprised, did as he was told. “Yes, sir, I won’t touch anything except handholds.” The marine nodded and allowed Terry and Doc to proceed. “Why so serious?”
“Because this is a serious place.”
The inside of the CIC was spherical and reminded him more of old submarine war movies. Except old movies didn’t have numerous Tri-V displays and aliens. Most of the crew was Human, and Terry was immediately aware of the man in the center. Probably Doc’s age, he was covered in tattoos and sported, of all things, a blue mohawk.
Colonel Kosmalski was one of the most recognizable people on Earth, yet somehow Terry hadn’t expected the blue mohawk to be real. It wasn’t something you saw on military leaders. He thought the man would look more at home in one of the netgame parlors in Honolulu, or maybe Houston. Or perhaps a bar in an R-rated movie? Definitely not in command of the most powerful Human-owned starship in the galaxy.
“Welcome back, Doc,” the colonel said. Terry thought the man’s accent sounded strange, like maybe he was from Russia? The Winged Hussars always sounded exotic and strange to him anyway.
“Good to see you again, Lawrence,” Doc replied.
“What can I do for you?”
“This is Terry Clark; he’s Madison’s boy.”
“Welcome to the Pegasus’ CIC,” Colonel Kosmalski said. He had a boyish smile, which Terry found disarming.
“Thank you, sir.” Terry was concentrating on hanging onto the handhold he’d nabbed when they’d floated in. An alien who looked like a big white rat was strapped to the workstation his grip was attached to. It eyed him suspiciously with little, black beady eyes.
“We have a request,” Doc said. Colonel Kosmalski made a gesture, and Doc continued, “You might have heard that hyperspace is proving problematic for the orcas?”
“Yes, my physician mentioned it in our briefing. She said the dolphins appear fine.”
“They’re not 100%, but they aren’t as weirded out as the orcas,” Doc explained. “The effects were bad enough, but a pregnant orca gave birth prematurely.”
“I’d heard about the birth, not about it being preemie. Is it going to survive?”
“We don’t know,” Doc said, then put a hand on Terry. “Terry here is trying to tend to it, but there’s a problem.”
“Gravity,” Terry said. He swallowed before continuing, “The baby calf can’t feed because his mom is catatonic, and I think the lack of up and down are just playing hell with him.”
“Calf?” Colonel Kosmalski asked.
“You call a baby cetacean a calf,” Terry explained, feeling uncomfortable trying to educate a commander of one of the Four Horsemen.
Kosmalski laughed and shook his head. “You learn something new every day in this big galaxy, but seldom about your own planet. So, what would you have me do to help this...calf?”
“We request you spin up Pegasus to give us some artificial gravity,” Doc said.
“Please, Colonel, it might give the poor thing a chance.”
“It’s not exactly a simple thing,” the Winged Hussars’ commander explained. “We have to secure from zero-G stations and have everybody on all four ships ready for spin.”
“I’m sorry,” Terry said, looking at the deck plate.
“Don’t be sorry, I’m just explaining that it’s not an insignificant request.” He looked at Doc. “You think it would work?”
“I don’t know,” Doc said. “I’m no marine biologist. Neither is Terry, obviously, but the explanation makes sense. I put it under ‘it couldn’t hurt,’ myself.”
Colonel Kosmals
ki ran a hand through his blue hair and grunted. Terry noticed one of the tattoos on the man’s arm was moving! He’d never seen a tattoo move before, and lots of surfers on Molokai had them. He tried hard not to stare.
“Okay,” the colonel said eventually. “I’ll order spin.”
“Oh, thank you, sir!” Terry blurted, and the colonel’s smile returned.
“Best I can do will probably only give you one quarter gravity, though. Any more, and that hunk of junk Teddy Roosevelt is liable to come apart at the seams.”
“Thanks,” Doc said. “I owe you one.”
Colonel Kosmalski snorted and made a dismissive gesture. “Means I still owe you a dozen. Get off my CIC, landlubber.”
“Aye aye, Captain,” Doc said and saluted. Kosmalski snorted again and flipped Doc the middle finger. Doc took Terry in tow and led him back toward the lift.
“Was he mad at you?” Terry asked, glancing back into the CIC as they left.
“No, grownups just talk that way sometimes.”
I hope I don’t act like that when I grow up, Terry thought. The two marines guarding the exit nodded to Doc and pretended Terry didn’t exist. They were waiting for the lift a minute later when the ship’s PA made a buzzing sound, and a woman’s voice spoke.
“Attention all hands, attention all hands. Secure from zero-G operations and prepare for spin in 15 minutes. Repeat, prepare for spin in 15 minutes.”
When they got back to Kavul Ato, the crew were rushing about, grumbling and wondering why the Pegasus’ captain had decided to spin more than a day after entering hyperspace. Apparently, doing it that way wasn’t normal procedure. Terry didn’t offer to explain to them.
When the big warship started spinning on its cylindrical center of mass, the three attached ships experienced the highest gravity. As Colonel Kosmalski had said, a meter in Kavul Ato reported they were under 0.3 Gs. Terry quickly returned to where the orca calf’s tank was and checked on him.
Doc warned him to be extra careful after a couple of days in freefall. People sometimes forgot and injured themselves, which was no doubt part of the Hussar commander’s concern. The inside of Kavul Ato seemed even more misshapen. Ladders were at odd angles, and some doors opened up or down, instead of sideways. Clearly the ship was not intended to be spun in this manner at all.
When he reached the tank, Terry was delighted to see the baby was swimming now, and no longer spinning much or bumping into the sides. He adjusted the lighting so it only came from ‘up’ in the compartment. That helped even more, and he saw the baby watching him through the glass. He loaded a big bottle, slipped into a wet suit, and grabbed one of several rebreathers hanging on the side of the tank.
Getting in was trickier now. He had to drain some of the water because the door would have dumped it all over the deck. The captain wouldn’t appreciate that. When he did, it made an air space, and the baby surfaced even though it wore the rebreather. Acting on instinct, Terry removed the orca’s rebreather. The calf immediately spent several minutes just circling with his little dorsal fin up in the air, breathing every minute or so.
“Okay,” he said, “how about some food now?” He slipped into the water and the calf came over to push at him with his nose. As the newborn weighed more than 150 kilos, Terry was a little alarmed to be shoved around. For the first time, he was aware he was in the water with an apex predator. It was a newborn, sure. A newborn with 50 or so sharp teeth. He did his best to remember that an orca had never hurt a Human in the wild and brought the bottle around.
“Give this a try.”
The orca calf pushed the bottle aside and nudged its nose into his ribs. “Oof,” Terry said. “Why are you doing that?” The calf did it several more times. Then Terry remembered the videos of orca calves feeding, and he held the bottle against his stomach, the big blunt nipple pointing out. The next time the calf tried to nudge him in the ribs, the bottle was between them.
“Come on,” Terry urged, and rubbed it against the calf’s mouth. He gave the bottle a squeeze and rich, white milk spurted into the water. It was all the calf needed, and he latched onto the bottle.
The videos paid off again. Orca young didn’t suckle. The mom’s milk was under pressure, so the calf just bit down and the milk flowed into its mouth. Terry squeezed, and the liquid flowed. The calf backed away and paused. Terry watched for any sign that the little guy had spit it out. Nothing. In fact, he came in for more. “Yes!” he crowed and squeezed hard.
“Way to go, kid.”
Terry looked over and saw Doc sitting on an equipment bench outside the tank, grinning from ear to ear, flashing a thumbs-up. Terry had never been happier in his entire life as the calf emptied the bottle in mere minutes.
* * * * *
Chapter 5
Karma Star System, Cresht Region, Tolo Arm
July 9th, 2037
“We’re about to drop out of hyperspace, Terry.”
He looked up from the orca calf. His mom was standing in the bay’s hatchway, leaning slightly to compensate for the ship’s strange angle. Terry nodded and pulled the bottle from the calf, who snorted water from his blowhole and tried to snatch it back.
“Wow, he’s really coming along, isn’t he?”
“Yeah,” he said, smiling. “He’s nuts for this milk.”
“You putting the extra antibiotics in?”
“Yes,” he said. The previous morning, a blood test showed the calf had a slight infection. Apparently minor infections weren’t uncommon for newborns in captivity. It might even be normal in the wild. Nobody knew. So Dr. Jaehnig had prescribed an antibiotic. The calf hadn’t even noticed. “He doesn’t care; he’s just hungry. Hey, stop that.” The calf had nabbed the bottle again.
“Here,” his mom said and came over. With her help, he was able to get the bottle away from him. The calf gave Terry a playful shove with his big, wide nose. “Better get his breather on.”
“Are we going to have to stop spin?”
“No, Pegasus said we’ll continue spin. But Dr. Jaehnig’s worried about the orcas’ mental health, and the calf is an even bigger unknown.”
Terry nodded and took the rebreather from a strap inside the tank where he’d been storing it. The calf floated on his side and looked at Terry with one eye.
“Have you had it back on him at all—oh!” She stopped in surprise when the calf swam over and helped Terry put the rebreather on. “Wow.”
“Yeah, he’s super smart.” Terry made sure it was set properly, adjusting the strap slightly so the plastic dome was exactly over the calf’s blowhole. Then he climbed out of the tank and sealed the door, in case zero gravity returned. “He’s learning fast. Dr. Jaehnig was talking to me this morning and said you’d talked about the idea of performing implant surgery on him.”
“We did talk about it,” she agreed. “We want to wait until he’s a couple months old and his mom understands.”
“Have you figured out if she’ll be able to take over nursing?”
“Probably not,” she said. “We checked Moloko a few hours ago and verified she has almost no milk production.” She shrugged. “She never successfully nursed. We’ll have to see how it goes. You still okay to take care of his feedings for two years?”
“Whatever it takes,” Terry said. “I promised.” She smiled and pulled him into a hug. “You said we’re coming out of hyperspace?”
She checked her watch. “In a few minutes.”
“Will it suck as bad as going in?”
“No,” she said. “Just feels like you’re falling.”
“What if you’re in zero gravity?”
“Apparently it doesn’t make any difference.”
“Space is weird,” Terry said.
His mom laughed and nodded. “It sure is.”
“Prepare for hyperspace emergence,” was announced over the PA on Kavul Ato.
Despite her assurances, Terry hung onto the hug. His mom didn’t say anything; she just waited. Before long, he felt it, a strange
falling sensation which made his stomach jump despite all the hours he’d recently logged in zero gravity. Just like entering hyperspace, it was gone in an instant.
“That’s it,” his mom said, and they both turned to see how the calf was doing. He looked at them curiously, seeming not to have noticed anything was different. “Welcome to Karma, little guy,” she said. “Hey, he needs a name.” She looked at Terry. “So, what is it?”
“I can name him?”
“Of course, you’re taking care of him.”
Terry looked at the calf, who was watching him. Probably still hungry, Terry thought. He took out his tablet computer and typed in some searches. The other orcas were all named using Hawaiian words. “How about Pōkole?”
“Hawaiian?” his mom asked. Terry nodded. “I don’t know what it means.”
“Short,” he said. “The calf was born early, so I thought it made sense.”
“I like it,” she said, and went over to the tank. “Welcome to Karma, Pōkole. How does it feel to be the first orca born off Earth?” Pōkole spurted water on the tank hatch.
“Maybe that means he’s happy?” Terry suggested.
“Probably just gas,” his mom said.
An hour after they’d arrived in Karma, Pegasus cast the three transports off and bid them farewell. Terry heard the conversation where his mother and her senior staff thanked Colonel Kosmalski for coming to their rescue.
“I am happy to have helped,” the colonel said in his thick Polish accent. “My wife Amelia has helped you many times, so how could I refuse when Pegasus was in Sol and you were in such dire need?”
“Did you hear what happened?” Doc asked Terry.
“No.”
“When the Earth Republic demanded Kosmalski turn around and bring us back or they’d send the military, the colonel dared them to try.”
“Holy cow,” Terry said.
“Yeah,” Doc said and chuckled. “These Horsemen are tough and independent. Nobody threatens them.”
“What about the three transports?” Terry asked. “They don’t belong to the institute, do they?”