by Olga Werby
Mele swam close to the window. A small implant pulsed with a soft blue glow behind her left eye. Toby reached for the calf and put her hand on the glass. Her heart beat so fast that it felt as if it would break her rib cage. It was a magical moment.
“What do you think?” George asked as they walked back to the lab.
“They’re bigger than I thought,” Toby said thoughtfully. “And smarter. I don’t know if this will work.” She had seen clear evidence of powerful minds in those eyes. The calves were curious and wanted to know about her. There was something very different from what she’d seen in the eyes of Rufus, Twiggy, or even Cory. “Mele will be the most intelligent animal I’ve ever ridden.”
“Are you worried you won’t be able to control her?”
“What if it’s just…wrong?” Toby said. “What if she’s self-aware? What if she…has a soul?” she added in a barely audible voice.
“Do you think Cory has a soul?”
“Yes, I do,” Toby said. Toby had never been religious. She’d never gone to church. Even when her mom was really sick, neither Toby nor her dad had even considered the idea of praying for her recovery. But looking into that whale’s eyes…
Toby struggled to walk. She was tired and drained. Sweat poured down her face and she held on to George more for support than for comfort. George stopped to give her a chance to catch her breath. She appreciated the gesture and the fact that he didn’t chide her for walking out into the park without the stupid wheelchair.
“Cory and I found an accommodation,” she said.
“And Mele?”
She noted that George was very careful to ask small questions. He obviously wanted to understand what she meant rather than put words in her mouth the way Vikka tended to do. Vikka liked to “help” by finishing her sentences, especially when she thought Toby was short of breath. But that just meant Vikka got most of Toby’s meaning wrong. Toby used to correct her, but now she just let it go. It took too much energy to argue with Vikka about what she was truly experiencing and feeling.
“It would be wrong to ride people, right?” Toby said, starting with the obvious. “It feels like riding Mele might be more like riding a human person than riding an animal. Not that Cory doesn’t have a strong personality.”
“She certainly does,” George said.
Toby smiled at him. At the moment, Cory was pestering Vikka to let her out of the cage. She was making too much noise and Vikka was trying to shush her, worrying that the raven would wake Will. But Cory knew what she was doing—she wanted Will up. She was bored and wanted to play, wanted people to pay attention to her. At their cores, Cory and Toby had very different personalities. Cory was an extrovert, whereas Toby preferred the inner worlds of thoughts and feelings. Maybe that was why she was good as a mind rider. Or was she a soul rider?
“Cory likes when we’re together,” Toby said.
“Mele might like that too. You won’t know until you ride her.”
“But Cory is all on the surface. She’s just there, in the moment. She’s either happy, or hungry, or wants to play, or is annoyed, or angry, or scared—”
“I get the picture.”
“I’m just trying to say that…even with a prodigious spatial memory and keen intelligence, Cory doesn’t cogitate on the world like humans do. She doesn’t get stuck in a worry loop.”
“Vikka calls it rumination—chewing the mental cud, so to speak.”
“Like cows?”
“That’s where the term comes from,” George said.
“It just felt like Mele was more…much, much more than Cory and the rest of our Brats.”
“Are you saying you don’t want to ride her?”
“No,” Toby said quietly. “I’ll ride her. I’ll just feel guilty about it.”
“I see,” George said. “Why don’t we—”
“Dad!” Toby shouted.
Eighteen: Minutes Later
Toby tried to run, but she didn’t have any reserves left in her. The short hike from the lab to the whale enclosure had worn her out. Her body betrayed her and she collapsed, pitching forward.
George caught her. “What’s going on?” he asked. The fear was easy to smell on him. “Toby, are you all right? You need me to get your dad? Do you need help?”
Toby wasn’t able to process George’s questions. Through Cory’s eyes, she had seen a bunch of military men march into the marine park lab and grab her father. Now they were screaming at him. Vikka was also screaming and pleading. It was chaos.
“Dad…” Toby cried weakly.
“I’ll carry you there.” George gathered her into his arms and lifted her up like a rag doll. Her arms, legs, and even her head flopped around.
“No, stop,” she commanded.
“What?” George tried to look Toby in the eyes, but her eyes rolled into her head.
Toby gathered herself. “Some soldiers are in the lab and they’ve got Dad.” Her voice was unsure, her eyes unseeing. She was focused only on what Cory could sense from inside her portable cage.
“Damn!”
George made a quick decision. He turned and ran back into the park. He had Toby in his arms and was dragging the oxygen tank behind him, while carrying the portable communications pack on his back.
He ran around the pool where Mele and Spila were being held, heaved the oxygen tank over a low fence, then jumped over it himself. He rushed right into the midst of a crowd of spectators at an orca show. He slowed to a fast walk and circumnavigated the marine stage behind a row of spectators covered in plastic rain ponchos. Everyone was focused on the killer whale doing tricks with its trainer; no one noticed George and Toby.
George took them down below the stage, into another employee area. Behind them, a fully-grown orca jumped for the crowd.
Toby didn’t see any of it. Her attention was with Cory in the lab. Vikka had surreptitiously unlatched Cory’s cage door while throwing a towel over the cage. Had the soldiers seen Cory? Toby didn’t know. She made her raven sit still, absolutely quiet, and listen to the pandemonium outside.
“Toby? Toby?” George’s voice entered her thoughts.
Toby pulled back to her human mind. She found herself lying on the pavement underneath the stadium seating. There were no spectators sitting above them.
“We’re safe for the moment,” George said. “What happened back at the lab? Your dad? Vikka? Are they all right?”
“I don’t know.” Toby could feel herself hyperventilating.
George put his hand on her diaphragm and tried to calm her spasming breaths. “Just breathe, Toby. Relax. We’re safe here. We’ll deal with whatever happened back in that lab. Is Cory free?”
“Yes. Vikka released the lock on the cage before covering it with a big towel.”
“Does anybody know Cory’s in there?”
“I don’t know. No one’s pulled off the towel.”
“That’s good. Keep Cory quiet. We need her.”
“I am. But she’s very scared.”
“I know, Toby. Just do it.”
He bent to check the oxygen tank and fear instantly flared up in Toby’s chest—they were running out of oxygen! She started to hyperventilate again.
“It’s fine,” George said. “There’s plenty of oxygen. Relax. And look around—it won’t be hard to get more around here.” He pointed to some diving equipment.
Toby tried to lower the stress hormones in her brain. Playing around with the chemicals in others’ brains had given her a good feel for manipulating her own. She’d also gotten good at the meditation techniques Vikka had taught her to lower anxiety. It took almost a minute, but she got herself back under control.
“Good girl,” George said. “Now tell me what happened.”
“Some men walked into the lab and grabbed Dad,” Toby said, trying to keep her voice even. “He was still asleep. Vikka tried to stop them, but they took her with them. They took her computer too.” The explanation took all of Toby’s air. She fell back and trie
d to suck in more oxygen. She felt drained.
“Did you recognize any of the men?” George said.
“No? Maybe. I don’t know! There have been so many new people, I—”
“Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter right now.” George adjusted his backpack to give Toby some support. “Is the room empty now?”
“I’ll have to move the towel.”
“Do you hear anything?”
Toby shook her head no.
“Good. Then just move the corner and peek.”
Cory pushed on the door of her cage. It made only a slight noise, but it sounded thunderous to her. Stress hormones flooded both her brain and Toby’s. It took a lot of Toby’s concentration to stay in control, but she kept Cory from crying out.
She pushed forward. The towel moved a little, and Cory poked her head out.
“There’s a man standing at the far door,” Toby said. “But I don’t think there’s anyone else.”
“You’re doing fine, Toby. You and Cory are doing fine,” George said soothingly. “Just stay and listen.”
“Okay.”
“Can you get Cory here?”
“Yes,” Toby said. She and Cory shared a strong bond and Cory wanted to be with her. She visualized her location and tried communicating it to Cory. It wasn’t perfect, because she was guessing how the park would look from a bird’s-eye view, but it was probably enough.
“Good. As soon as you think it’s safe, have Cory get out and join us. We can’t have her back there while you’re riding her.”
Toby couldn’t agree more. She couldn’t even consider the possibly of a severed connection now. If they did that…or if they hurt Cory…
Toby shook her head and looked out of the cage again. There were voices somewhere out of sight. She heard Vikka. She couldn’t make out the words, just the strong emotional tone. Vikka was scared.
The guard by the door turned to look toward the voices. For the moment he was faced away from the lab and Cory. Now was Toby’s chance.
Cory hopped out of the cage.
“I’m out,” Toby said quietly. “How do I leave?” She didn’t see a way out other than past the guard at the door.
“The windows,” George said. “There are a few skylights over the central pool. Look for something that’s opened.”
“The skylights are all closed,” Toby said. Cory had excellent eyesight. “And there’s air-conditioning in the room.” She heard the thrum of the fans. “Wouldn’t the windows be closed?”
“You can open them,” George said.
Toby looked around. The windows were the type that required cranking to open. As human, she wouldn’t have any problems opening the window latches. But as a bird? She wasn’t so sure. There were screens too, but those were fragile things, easily ripped with a strong beak or the swipe of a claw.
Cory flew toward the back of the room, away from the guard. She flew low, avoiding the brightly lit areas underneath the skylights, trying to maneuver so that there was always something between herself and the guard—a chair, a desk, scuba equipment. She landed on a windowsill unnoticed and without a sound. Toby was proud of her bird and Cory preened in satisfaction of a job well done.
“We’re by the window,” she said.
Cory tried pushing the crank down with her beak. It didn’t move. She was turning the crank in the wrong direction. She needed to pull, not push.
“Remember, you don’t have to open it too much. Only enough for Cory to get out,” George said.
Toby used her claws to try to pull the crank, but it was just too awkward. She considered what she could do. She tried sticking her head under the crank and pushing it up that way, but the handle was too close to the windowsill and Cory couldn’t get underneath. What she needed was a stick or a rod to slide under the crank handle. Then she’d use it as a lever.
She looked around the lab for something that could work—long and small and sturdy. Surgical instruments, maybe? But Cory might have trouble holding them.
As Toby thought of grasping a scalpel and mishandling it, Cory puffed up in indignation—the raven didn’t think she would drop an object like that. It was a strange exchange of visual information. There was thinking and planning and pre-visualizing the action all in a flash, and all washed in Cory’s emotional reaction to Toby’s distrust. The whole Toby-Cory mental argument was a bit freakish, but they both understood each other. Well, if you can think you can do it, Toby thought to herself…or to Cory.
Cory flew down to a surgical setup in the corner of the room. She paid close attention to the guard, as she knew that people were wired for noticing movement, even—or especially—in their peripheral vision. But the man had now stepped into the hall and he didn’t turn as Cory landed on a small cabinet with an array of surgical tools on top.
Cory grabbed a pair of scissor-looking things—a long metal forceps with two looped handles and a curved business end. The forceps weren’t heavy and the loops made the instrument easy to carry. The bird flew back to the window crank and slipped the curved end underneath the handle. By resting the middle on the edge of the wooden windowsill, Cory was able to press down on the looped handle and push the crank handle up.
It worked! The window started to open.
When she’d opened it as much as she could, Cory readjusted the forceps and tried again. The window opened more.
“That’s a girl,” Toby whispered.
But now the crank had rotated so the handle was too high to use the lever. As Toby considered what to do next, it was Cory who decided. She lifted the forceps, slid one of the handle loops over the crank handle, grabbed the other loop in her claws, and flew up.
The handle moved and the window opened further.
“Hey!” the guard shouted. He started to run toward Cory. Fortunately, the window was on the other side of the water tank that bisected the giant room. The man had to get around the pool to get to Cory.
“Rip, Cory!” Toby cried out loud. She felt George’s hand gripping her shoulder, but her attention was back in the lab.
Cory dropped the forceps, no longer worried about making noise, and attacked the screen with her beak and claws. She ripped and tore, her panic rising to match Toby’s.
“Go, Cory! Go!”
“Stop!” The man was almost on Cory. Others were running into the room now too.
Cory tried to push her way through the partially ripped screen. She squeezed her head through the narrow opening in the window and the tiny hole in the screen. It was tight. Ideally, Cory would have given the crank another turn, maybe two. But nothing was ideal. Cory pushed harder to get her body through. Some of her feathers ripped off and Toby gasped in pain.
“Come on, Cory. That’s a good girl,” Toby said. She moderated the chemicals in Cory’s brain—pushing the anxiety levels down, giving a dash of adrenaline for speed, and pumping the opioids to deal with the pain of the damaged feathers.
“Shoot!” someone shouted.
The window exploded in sharp shards all around her.
Cory panicked and dove forward. Toby felt several pieces of glass slide through her black feathers. She felt the cuts on her head and legs—blood was dripping from Cory’s head, next to the implant.
“Fly, Cory! Get away. I’ll keep you safe,” she added almost in whisper.
And Cory flew. More shots were fired behind her, but the raven was free.
Toby let out a breath.
“She made it?” George asked.
“Yes.”
“The gunshots?”
Toby didn’t realize he’d heard those here as well. “She’s hurt, but not shot. They didn’t get her.”
“Good girl,” George said. Both Toby and Cory took pride in that.
Cory landed next to them underneath the bleachers.
“Good girl,” George said again. And Toby watched through Cory’s eyes as he picked her up, examined her wounds, and applied first aid using a kit from the backpack. Toby was too tired to help.
When George and Toby didn’t return after their visit to the Houston Medical Center, Kyle was sent to retrieve them. He was supposed to be diplomatic and smooth things over, but his orders were clear: George and Toby were coming back to Arizona. And so was Vikka. Vikka always went with the girl; she was her legal guardian. Legally, of course, Kyle’s assignment wasn’t on sound footing—the military couldn’t really hold Vikka and Toby against their wills—but practically...that was another matter.
He had set off immediately in a van full of young soldiers, newly part of the Brats program. As a special ops agent, Kyle didn’t have to take a shift driving; the other guys took care of that. So he’d used the down time to sleep and get Grock to sleep too. Or at least, he’d tried. Grock was very flustered by all the activity and, to keep the bird calm, Kyle had to ride him the whole time. Frankly, that suited Kyle just fine.
But those orders were eight hours old. Now, they had changed. Toby and George had gone to a marine park in San Antonio, but had then disappeared. Kyle was supposed to use Grock to fly over the marine park and locate the wayward major and the girl.
Kyle thought that perhaps he could figure out what was going on. He trusted George, but what could the man be thinking? Toby was so vulnerable to infection; putting her in a large crowd of park-goers was sheer insanity. Maybe he wanted to give the girl one last human experience? Toby might be an important military asset, but she was also a dying kid. Would they really begrudge her a last wish?
Or had George taken Toby to see her new ride? Kyle still hadn’t come to terms with the crazy idea of a consciousness transplant. And he also didn’t think they were close enough to be choosing an animal.
“We’ll be there in a few minutes, sir,” one of the men announced. It was the first time anyone had spoken in hours.
