by Brian Tissot
As she moved into the deep channel and began swimming across, she heard the Duke power up and fly into the distance. Climbing out of the water, she gasped for breath and dropped to her knees in frustration. “Well, that’s it. They’re gone. Come on, Sage, think. There has to be something you can do!” She frantically dashed down the narrow beach. From a distance, she could see more dark shapes in the surf, and her body began to shake in dread. “No!” Getting closer, imprints in the sand told the story: the Duke had launched the sub then parked on the beach, killing two Nesoi in the process. Sage cried when she saw marks from a net and claw marks in the sand. They had caught one, and it’s now on the Duke.
“Home Cave!” she said in a panic. “I have to check Home Cave.” As she hopped into the surf, she ripped open her pack, popped on her breather, then dove into the water. Swimming out to the edge of the reef, she was hopeful for Melia and Maka but feared the worst. Reaching the drop-off, she looked for the symbol for the cave entrance, found it, and with a herculean effort dove 400 feet down to the dark entrance, clearing her ears as she went. Once inside, she anxiously followed the symbols of glowing claw marks on the walls, just as Melia had taught her, and finally emerged into Home Cave.
She surfaced into a killing zone. The bodies of Nesoi littered the cave floor; several were still moving. It was here, she realized, that the Nesoi had made their last stand against Milo and Moshe in the submersible. The Home Cave was their last line of defense. It had protected them against countless cycles of Thalassa’s violent storms and hordes of voracious predators, but was defenseless against the technology of hard-hearted humans.
Sage was numb with sadness as she moved gently through the bodies, looking but hoping not to find her beloved family. Then she saw Melia, shot twice and rolled up against the cave wall. Sage screamed, “No! God, no! Please, not Melia.” Sage gently rolled her over and held her brown-and-white head in her lap while stroking her soft furry nose as tears poured down her face. “You protected me, but I wasn’t here to protect you. Why, goddammit, why?” She sobbed and pounded the water, all the while her heart breaking, her body like a dead weight. “Not you, no.” She kept saying. “My beautiful, precious Melia.”
Then she looked around. “Where’s Maka?” She laid Melia down and looked over the rest of the bodies, sobbing and weak from grief. But after carefully searching the entire cave, Maka was not to be found, but four Nesoi were dead.
“They took her!” Sage said, her loud voice echoing through the cave. “Goddamn them! They’re taking her back to Earth for an exhibit. They killed her entire family for a goddamn fucking holoscreen show!”
As her anger grew, she walked back to Melia and held her once more, gently stroking her head and soft ears. Even in death, she was beautiful and magnificent. Sage marveled that such an amazing creature had ever lived and that she died for such a trivial reason. She was murdered to fulfill the petty desires of one man; killed so a rich and famous man could become richer and more famous. How, she thought, can Milo—or anyone for that matter—place such a low value on the life of another creature? But then it occurred to her that senseless animal killings happened on Earth every day. She screamed in the cave as she pounded the sand, “This has to stop!”
In the midst of her searing anger, her path hit her like a freight train, bursting into her mind. At last, she knew what she must do. Her anger combined with her new awareness of the preciousness of life showed her a new direction. She wanted to live the rest of her life with these creatures, with Melia and Maka. But Melia had been murdered, and they had taken Maka, her kindred spirit. Even worse, she knew the Nesoi deaths were just the beginning: Cutten would come back wanting more. Then the floodgates of humanity would open, and it would never end. Thalassa would be destroyed. But Thalassa is too special to suffer that fate, and I must stop it. And I will do just that. On Earth!
As she ran through her dreams in her mind, her fears of the unknown and of her powerful self, she grew too determined for those fears to stop her. She shouted, “If that’s who I need to be, that’s who I am! I am Sage in the light, not in the darkness. I live with a purpose. I will make them see what they have done here! I will make them see what they are doing to their planet, to all their ‘ohana. Then they will understand.”
Kneeling in the cave, she made a promise to Melia to bring back Maka. Holding Melia’s bloody head, she vowed to protect the Nesoi, to protect the Thalassian whales, to protect her home. She had seen that everything and everyone was connected. So she swore to protect all life and to protect Thalassa. That was her singular goal.
But, she thought, how will I do it? Somehow I must return to Earth. I must go back and convince everyone that Thalassa deserves special protection. Only then can I live here in peace among these beautiful creatures.
With great sorrow, she said her goodbyes and swam out of the cave, returned to the surface, and swam toward shore. As she powered out of the surf, she didn’t feel sad or angry. Instead, she felt an intensity of purpose so strong that her fatigue and negative emotions dropped away.
Because Sage didn’t emerge from the surf—it was Hōkūlani e hoʻāla i ka moana.
Chapter 32.
Clans
As she bounced down the long beach with a fast-paced stride, her head held high, and her eyes focused forward, she now knew her purpose. Although she didn’t know how she was going to do it, she forged ahead. I’ll figure something out. I have to. She spoke to herself with steely determination. “I’m going to Earth. I have to get Maka back, or she’ll die.” In reply, her deeper reality spoke to her. It’s impossible. There’s no way back.
She thought about the Proteus ruins, then shook her head—everything was either fried by acid or buried during the last tide. Still, it’s worth a try. I just need to send a signal. She stopped and inventoried her possessions, looking at the breather around her neck. “The only electronic devices I have are this breather, a flashlight, and my motoboard. They work because they were designed to function underwater. They’re waterproof, that’s why—”
Her eyes widened. “Waterproof, that’s it. The shuttle! It’s still out there on the Bulge. How could I have forgotten that? And it was built to go underwater!”
Sage grinned and quickened her pace down the beach as she recalled that the shuttle was designed to handle limited submersions. OK, I’ll assume it will still work. Georgia said it’s capable of interstellar travel, and I flew it in the sim a few times. I’ll engage the autopilot. That should be enough.
Thinking it through, she remembered she would need the portal to get back to Cassini and home, and that only works if the outer satellites were still in place. I’ll assume they’ll be there. No reason Milo wouldn’t leave them for the next expedition. He thinks I’m dead, right? Plus, even if I wasn’t, he doesn’t think I can get into space.
Reaching the end of the island, she quickly swam across and continued walking as the sun dried her off. But how am I going to get down to the shuttle? Georgia said it was in 1,200 feet of water. Staring at the ocean, she pondered this new dilemma. As she started to grow despondent, a dark head appeared in the surf and whistled her name. She recognized her instantly. “Two-Spot!” The Nesoi emerged from the surf and ran up the beach to greet her. Sage warmly caressed her furry head. “I was worried about you when I couldn’t find you in Home Cave. You can dive that deep, can’t you, girl? You want to play fetch?” Two-Spot pushed up against her and whistled her name. That was all she needed to know.
As she approached Reunion Island, she hashed out the details of her plan with Two-Spot following her in the surf. By the time Sage arrived at their destination, Two-Spot was joined by two adult Nesoi, one of them larger with a wider head covered in black. Huh, that looks different. So the males and females do hang together. Or maybe she asked for help? So much to learn.
As she munched on dried pika from her backpack, she deliberated on getting out to the shuttle on
the Bulge. “How far is it?” she asked Two-Spot while pointing offshore, who turned her head in response. “Let’s see,” she said, thinking out loud. “When the waves were breaking on the Bulge, Georgia said she couldn’t see them from here.” She turned around and looked up the rocky hill. “But she could see them on that ridge.” Then she did the math in her head. The ridge is about 200 feet above sea level. Most lighthouses are about that height and are seen for 20 miles. But Thalassa is smaller than Earth and its shortened horizon makes the Bulge 70 per cent closer or about 15 miles offshore. That’s a long way.
“Huh, maybe I can power out on Kekoa?” She thought about it some, but remembered Milo and Dina’s journey off the Bulge. “I might get halfway, but I’d have to paddle after that. So what? I can do that!” Her rational mind butted in. That sounds risky. If I can’t recover the shuttle, then I’d be stuck in open water—not a good idea.
Recalling her ride on Melia’s back, she looked to Two-Spot’s group. “Can you help me out?” Then she shook her head at the thought. She probably could, but I need her to locate the shuttle, bring it up, and maybe get me back. Plus, she looks pretty beaten up. Not sure that will work.
Feeling the wind blowing through her hair, Sage’s eyes lit up with an idea. “I could windsurf out! But I have to build one. Let’s see; I need a mast, a way to attach it to my board, and something for a sail.” She developed a plan in her head. There were parachutes on the Proteus. If I can find one, and it’s still intact, that might work. What about a mast? There are no trees here. Dang. Sage wracked her brain for a minute, then her eyes widened. “The bone pile near the cavern! There were plenty of large bones that would work.” A huge smile appeared on her face.
Armed with a strategy for getting home, she grabbed Kekoa, powered back to the mainland, and hiked up to the Proteus ruins. The extreme tide had ravaged the site, scattering pieces of uncovered wreckage across the landscape. However, after most of the day rummaging among the ruins, she was able to locate a partially intact parachute in the collapsed fuselage—it was enough. She also found some wire, screws, nuts, and bolts in a toolkit, plus a roll of Velcro and some zip ties. I need a mast.
After spending the night in a small cave, she powered over to the debris-strewn pocket beach, selected several large rib bones, and motored back with them tied to her board. Two days later, she was standing on the beach with a hand-crafted windsurfer. “It looks rickety, but it’s flexible, and I’ve made a secure attachment between the sail, the bone-mast, and the board. Plus, Kekoa’s mass adds stability.”
Early the next morning, she filled her backpack with dried pika and several water containers and stood on the beach ready to go. Although the wind was mild, she reasoned it would build during the day, so she headed out. An hour later, she was several miles offshore slicing through small swells on a stiffening breeze with a small group of Nesoi in tow. The trick now was to locate the shuttle.
Near Reunion Island, the ocean had been powder blue, but it abruptly changed to deep purple when she crossed over a cold, deep trench. As she approached the Bulge, the dark water changed to a pale blue-green, and she saw fronds swaying underwater. She was on the shoal and steered toward the middle while she looked for the thumb-shaped reef of Colossus. She noticed swells bumping up on the shallow shoal, which guided her to the reef and the general location where the shuttle had gone down. It was so peaceful it was hard to imagine the chaos of the big-wave day that had changed her life.
Tacking over to the edge of the reef, she stopped where the water transitioned from light to dark blue on the edge of the submarine canyon. Anchoring over that spot, she pulled out a small replica of the Da Bull she had carved from bone. Jumping into the water, she showed Two-Spot the object, and pointed to the edge, gesturing to indicate a larger object. “Fetch!” Two-Spot whistled then dove underwater and disappeared into the dark water with her two companions. Although she couldn’t see them, she could hear them clicking and creaking as they searched the area below her.
For the next two hours, the Nesoi repeatedly surfaced as they worked their way along the edge of the canyon looking for the shuttle. Sage dove as deep as she could, but she couldn’t see the seafloor where the shoal dropped off along a steep wall into the canyon. While watching the group diving repeatedly and surfacing, she opened her father’s notebook and began reading from an entry marked “Furry Creatures”:
These mammal-like creatures are truly a puzzle. Thalassa clearly has animals from two different origins here. Most creatures are, what I assume, the indigenous marine life and are consistent with a young Earth: creatures similar to Cambrian and pre-Cambrian invertebrates such as jellyfish and those frond-like things. Early life. Organisms that live off dissolved organic matter or feed on bacteria or scrape the bottom. And the fish-like creatures are similar to early ancestors of vertebrates on Earth. Same with the slugs and arthropods. But animals like that on Earth took 3.5 billion years to appear, and this place is barely 2 billion years old, so life has evolutionarily accelerated. The organisms here are unique because they’ve evolved in Thalassa’s sea and have adapted to its ecology, yet they occupy similar morphological spaces to Earth life probably due to convergent evolution. Water is a powerful adaptive force, and there are only so many ways to live in it and use it. But I’m still not sure why the plankton and filter-feeding fish spiral like that. Maybe it’s the greater Coriolis force from the higher planetary spin rate; I don’t know.
But we’ve discovered these furry creatures that don’t fit in here. In addition to the big morphological gap between them and everything else, Melissa determined that the genetic, enzymatic, and protein sequences between these creatures and the rest of Thalassa’s biota are strikingly different. Although they look like primitive mammals and they act, sing, and echolocate like our whales, they aren’t whales at all. Using our database, I determined they are similar to the ancestors of whales. Early ancestors, like those that lived on Earth 50 million years ago. The furry ones that swim and walk on land are similar to the “walking whales,” species such as Ambulocetus, terrestrial whale ancestors that recently invaded the sea and adapted to living in the ocean. But they also lived on land, where they drank water and gave birth. These were primitive mammals returning to sea after the dinosaurs went extinct. But although these creatures on Thalassa look similar, they are highly socially evolved and astonishingly intelligent. And their songs—wow. I’ll write more about that later, but they are complex and enthralling. How the animals got here is a big puzzle. And it’s not just how they got here, which is intriguing in itself, but how they’ve survived here for so long when these creatures have been extinct on Earth for over 40 million years. Hopefully, when we get back, scientists can figure it out. Our geologist and mission leader, Gary Anderson, has collected extensive rock samples, including fossils and meteorites, which might be helpful.
As she pondered the paradox of Thalassa’s cetaceans, the sun dropped toward the horizon, the wind died, and she started to shiver. But she wouldn’t give up. Right before sunset, Two-Spot surfaced and joyfully swam circles around Sage, indicating she had found something.
Sage praised her, then pulled out the lander model and indicated to Two-Spot that they needed to push the ship to the surface. But Two-Spot snorted a short whistle that sounded like No! and kept circling her. Sage showed her again and got the same response. Becoming concerned as night approached and her plan might fail, she jumped into the water and swam up and down around Two-Spot and her two companions, hoping to attract additional Nesoi. When that failed, she got back on her board and shook her head, not sure what to do. She remembered the time she sang her song and the Nesoi came to her, all the heads popping up to hear her strange singing. Clearing her throat, she began to sing in Hawaiian the only thing she could think of: a declaration of sovereignty for the ‘āina. Now for Thalassa.
Ua Mau,
ke Ea o ka ‘Āina,
i ka Pono,
&
nbsp; o Thalassa
(The life of the land is perpetuated in Pono)
As she sang, a few Nesoi surfaced and tilted their heads at her voice, clearly fascinated by the sounds. She repeated her refrain.
Ua Mau,
ke Ea o ka ‘Āina,
i ka Pono,
o Thalassa
After a few verses, other Nesoi began popping up around her, attracted by the unusual sounds in their waters. Within minutes, dozens surrounded her. She remembered the numerous caves on the canyon walls, which must house clans of Nesoi on the Bulge. After all, it was a rich feeding ground for pika on the reef. The Nesoi were friendly, and with Two-Spot’s whistles they began brushing up against her. “All right, that was amazing ladies. Now let’s see you bring up the lander.”
Again, she pulled out the lander model and showed Two-Spot how to push the ship to the surface. This time she let out a long whistle and disappeared underwater, followed by a large entourage of Nesoi, probably 50 animals in all. For over an hour, she sat on her board as animals popped up around her, took a few breaths, then dove back down. In the rapidly approaching darkness, she started worrying about returning to the island.
But bubbles started popping up, and she glimpsed a dark shape moving below her. Slowly, the lander emerged from the water onto the surface, pushed by a large group of struggling Nesoi that were holding it up with their snouts and arms while whipping their strong legs and tails through the water. As the lander broke the surface, water poured out of an open door into the cabin and remnants of the tattered ladder spilled out. Sage thought of Byron and his tragic death, but she saw no traces of him inside the cabin.
