“Yes, of course…Seomish. It seems like the situation has changed. We’re no longer dealing with just an interesting scientific discovery…not when they come charging up out of the ocean and kill our people. Dr. Kristol---you had something you wanted to say?”
Edwin Kristol had been CIA Director for almost ten years now—through three administrations—and had been highly regarded and aggressively non-partisan—for all of that time. The former president of Harvard scrolled down some files on his wristpad and, with POTUS’ permission, ported them to everybody in the room. Kendrick studied the files on a slate at her desk.
“Madame President, I must emphasize the extreme sensitivity of this information and respectfully request that none of what I’m about to say leave the room—”
“Yes, yes, Edwin…we all know about your penchant for excessive secrecy. What is it?”
“Just this—” Kristol cleared his throat, “Madame President, we have to consider that what happened at Woods Hole is not an isolated incident.”
“Edwin, I’m scanning what looks like reports and scraps of reports. Explain.”
Kristol exchanged a brief nod with Bergland, the SecDef. The nod said: go ahead…we all agreed on the bonafides of this intel. “Madame President, there’s a growing consensus among my analysts and Mr. Bergland’s people that these sea creatures---these Seomish—are inherently hostile…maybe even allied with the Russians or the Chinese. You can see from the reports that there have been scattered instances of other encounters with these creatures. Fishing trawlers, freighters, naval and research vessels, even sporting boats and yachts and many of these encounters have resulted in injury or significant damage to property. Frankly, the frequency of the encounters is increasing rapidly and the severity of each encounter, the degree of damage or injury, is also increasing. The consensus among my people is that they’re testing us, testing our defenses and our responses to provocation. For what purpose, the data don’t really say but—”
“Probably a major military operation of some kind,” Bergland blurted out.
POTUS caught Dr. Holland squirming uncomfortably on her divan out of the corner of her eye. “You wish to add something, Dr. Holland?”
“Yes, ma’am. With all due respects, this analysis is utter nonsense. I’ve met the creatures themselves…at least, the one we caught near Bermuda.”
“The one they came after—” Kristol reminded everyone.
“We don’t know that,” Holland protested. “We had the creature, the subject, in our research pool at Woods Hole. I did some preliminary exams myself…this creature seemed distinctly different from the others. He actually came to us, when we were diving aboard the Poseidon, curious, as if he wanted to communicate.”
“And you grabbed him,” said Seth Cameron. “Probably precipitating an international crisis.”
Kendrick steepled her hands under her chin. “And what did your exam show, Dr. Holland?”
Holland took a deep breath, checked some facts on her own wristpad. “I brought the results with me here. It seems that this creature was basically amphibious. Able to breathe in both air and water…it’s called cutaneous respiration. They can breathe through their skin. The creatures who came out of the Sound and entered the McLean Lab building didn’t seem like the same type…from reports and from what I witnessed, they were encased in some kind of armored suit, like a diving suit. We don’t have good information on what they’re like. It was too…chaotic, ma’am, at the time.”
“Are we dealing with more than one kind of creature?”
Holland wasn’t sure herself. “I don’t know, at this time, Madame President. We don’t have enough information to make any conclusions. That’s why we need to establish good communication with them, get them to trust us, build some kind of relationship.”
Roark scoffed at that. “Unlikely, if they take it upon themselves to come up on land and assault our people. I tend not to trust people who do that.”
“They were just trying to rescue their comrade,” Holland protested. “I’m sure of that.”
That caused POTUS’ well-highlighted eyes to lift. “Really? You just said we don’t have enough information to make judgments about their nature…or their motives.”
Holland tried to reply, but POTUS cut her off. “Doesn’t matter. We’re dealing with bigger issues here. I’m making a decision that we need to communicate the intelligence we do have to our allies, probably to NATO, to UNIFORCE, to our friends.” She saw the pained look on Dr. Kristol’s face. “Don’t wet your pants, Edwin…we’ll make sure your sources and methods are protected. But this seems to have become a global problem and we need global answers.”
Kristol volunteered more background, raising his hand. “Madame President, this may be relevant: diplomatic sources are telling us that a number of nations are forming their own investigations. I’ve got indications from sources in China, Japan, Russia, Brazil. One media source…I believe it was Asahi Shimbun in Tokyo…termed this a ‘strange evolutionary outbreak of intelligent marine creatures.’”
“Maybe there’s a way to combine our investigatory resources,” POTUS proposed. There was a nodding of heads around the Oval Office. “I think we need to take this to the UN.” She consulted something on her slate. “Where’s Humango today…ah, right in New York. She can vidcon in.” She motioned her Chief of Staff over. “Fried, get Lucille Humango on the line. I’ve got a job for her.”
“At once, Madame President.” Art Friedkin rushed out of the Oval Office to set up the connection.
Moments later, the solemn, rather jowly face of the UN Ambassador flashed up on everybody’s wristpad. Humango was a lifelong diplomat and her cheeks and eyes showed un-re-sculpted bags that she kept to emphasize her experience and wisdom to all around her. Josey Holland blinked at the face she was seeing. Jeez, lady, try some nanoderm, why don’t you?
POTUS launched into the details of her idea, which she hashed out with her visitors in the Oval Office. Holland listened to the proposal with a growing sense of dread. The Seomish were about to become international pariahs, in her mind. They needed to be studied. Treated with care. Sensitivity. Approached with some understanding, even a little dignity. She had come to believe that she and Rick Leventhal had been wrong in grabbing the Seomish creature at Muir seamount like they did. They were just trying to protect a comrade, she told herself. They were just reacting like we would. But then that thought actually made her shiver slightly. If the Seomish really did react like Humans, this whole encounter could turn ugly in an eyeblink.
It was happening right now, right before her eyes. She shook off the feeling that somehow, she had been transported from the Oval Office to the Barnstable County Courtroom and there was Stephen and his lawyers sitting nearby, so smug and sure of themselves, carefully enumerating every flaw and deficiency she’d ever shown as a wife and mother.
Josey Holland shook the image from her mind and tried to focus on what LaTonya Kendrick was instructing her UN ambassador to do.
The proposal made sense, in a cock-eyed sort of way. A new agency was to be created at the UN…something called UNCSBI. United Nations Commission on Sea-Based Intelligence. It was Navy Secretary Roark, a devout student of acronyms, who labelled the contraption ‘UNISEA.’ Everyone liked the sound of that.
As the discussion rolled through the details of how the agency would work and who would be appointed, Josey Holland had an idea. Like a schoolgirl, she shyly raised her hand.
“Yes, Dr. Holland? You have something?”
“Madame President, I have a recommendation for who should head up this agency, this UNISEA. Someone very well qualified.” It was important that UNISEA have a scientist at the top, rather than a politician or an admiral.
“Who do you have in mind?”
“He’s a world-renowned Japanese marine biologist. Dr. Keko Satsuyama…actually, a long-time colleague of mine.”
Nobody had any objections, to Holland’s great surprise.
Presi
dent Kendrick approved the proposal to be put before General Assembly immediately. Dr. Lucille Humango had her orders and she signed off the vidcon.
A week later, the formation of UNISEA was formally approved by the General Assembly and a new agency was born, headed by the esteemed biologist Dr. Satsuyama, who worked from his position as Distinguished Chair of Marine Biology at Waseda University, Tokyo. Satsuyama agreed to take the post after some last-minute arm-twisting by Holland.
His first order of business as new head of UNISEA was to schedule a trip to Woods Hole.
Dr. Josey Holland Lifelogger Post:
I guess we really have entered a new world now. It’s funny how your life can change so completely, so suddenly, almost like a phase change…you know: like ice to water to vapor and back. One minute you’re noodling along doing basic research on social dynamics of cetacean species, interesting but at times, sleepy stuff and the next minute, you’re in the midst of some international crisis, with the UN and the President and the military and even the friggin’ CIA, for God’s sake.
I guess I have ‘Ralph’ and his Seomish friends to thank for that.
I think the idea behind UNISEA is a good one. We need a coordinated response to the Seomish. I guess my biggest worry is that we’ll react emotionally, feel threatened and won’t think through what is happening: a new intelligence on Earth, a marine intelligence, heretofore undiscovered…do you think that’s threatening to a lot of cherished and well-established beliefs? Is the Pope catholic?
Of course, when I learned that the Navy had already encountered the Seomish, even met with them, and kept it all a big secret, I wasn’t surprised. To them, anything different is a national security threat. I’ll have to admit I’m secretly admiring of any intelligent race that thinks enough of its members to organize and carry out a rescue mission; that’s what happened in Woods Hole. We should never have taken that live specimen. That was a mistake and I’m sure Dr. Satsuyama would agree.
Between this and the divorce, I don’t really know where my head is these days. I wish I could somehow ‘rescue’ Hannah and Timmy from Stephen and his lawyers…now there’s a true national security threat.
I find my thoughts shifting by the moment from the Seomish and all the promise we have of a relationship with a new intelligence, all the wonders we can learn, the mysteries we can unlock and what’s happening in the Barnstable County Courthouse. Stephen thinks I’m unfit to be a mother, that I’ve abandoned my children for dolphins and whales, that somehow I love sea creatures more than Timmy and Hannah. I won’t even dignify that with an answer…I mean, really!
But sometimes, like this morning standing in front of the mirror, before we went down to Washington, I will admit to feeling overwhelmed by all this…it’s like a movie projector in my head, with flickering images of ‘Ralph’ and the Seomish, interspersed with images of Stephen and that sneer on his lips, to images of Hannah and Timmy, to those frog-people waddling across Woods Hole to the Lab building…it’s all mixed up. I guess I am too.
My real concern is that the formation of UNISEA is just political cover and the politicians and the military people will be running the show behind the scenes. I’m afraid for the Seomish. I’m afraid for us too. Encountering someone who looks different and sounds different and smells different from you, someone from outside the ‘tribe’ or the family, always brings out the worst in people.
I wish I knew what was going to happen…it’s getting pretty hard to hold it together lately….
Chapter 4
Gainesville, Florida
June 19, 2115
2315 hours
Angie Gilliam and Sheila Shivers usually got off their swing shift at University Hospital just after 11 pm every night and often stopped by the Omelet House diner on the Gulf Highway for eggs and bacon, maybe pecan pancakes too, on the way back to the Coconut Cabana apartments. Tonight, they were both tired and drained. It had been an exhausting day on the 3rd floor, what with the old man in 310 passing away, and the family wailing and carrying on all over the hall, not to mention Mrs. Van Dyke and all her endless requests and complaints from 317…honestly, the woman could drive paint to curl off the walls.
So they went straight back to the Cabana, both intending to drink something, take a hot shower and fall into bed straight away.
But when they saw the dark unmarked car in the parking lot and two dark-suited men got out and approached them with that official you’re in big trouble look, they knew that none of this would ever happen.
One man was taller, rather gaunt actually, with a severe face that looked like it had been nanodermed by a surgeon in a hurry—his nose didn’t quite line up with his eyes—and the other man was shorter, stocky, fair-haired with large, almost feminine lips—Angie wondered momentarily what it would be like to kiss those lips, but quickly disabused herself of that idea.
“Miss Gilliam?” asked the short one.
“I’m Angie Gilliam,” Angie said.
Sheila was alert for trouble, her hands already reaching into the pocket of her light jacket—the scrubs didn’t have much for pockets—for the spray, said, “Hey, we’re just nurses…we don’t have anything you’d—”
Crooked Face interrupted, “We’re not robbers, ma’am. That’s not why we’re here.”
“Then why are you here? It’s late and we’re both beat.”
Crooked Face seemed ready to take charge, raising a hand to cut off his partner. “I’m special agent Scanlon, FBI. This is—” he waved at his accomplice, “Mr. Levy…ONI. We just want to have a word with Miss Gilliam.” Automatically, they both produced official-looking badges.
“ONI? What the hell’s that?”
Now Big Lips—aka ‘Mr. Levy’ spoke up. “Office of Naval Intelligence, ma’am. We’d like for Miss Gilliam to come with us…we just have a few questions we want to ask.”
“So, ask.” Angie said.
“Not here,” Scanlon said, looking around. “We want you to come with us…the Federal Building downtown. It’ll be more comfortable, for all of us.”
Now the hairs on the back of Angie’s neck bristled. “Am I under arrest or something?”
Sheila tried to stick up for her young intern. “Look…I don’t know what this is all about but maybe I should get the resident manager out here.”
Scanlon tried to defuse the situation. “No need for alarm…it’s all routine. Just some questions. But we don’t want to do it here. In town, at our office. Nobody’s under arrest.”
Angie took a deep breath. Something inside told her: this has got to have something to do with Chase and what happened at that Lab in Boston. She really didn’t want Sheila to get mixed up in all this.
“It’s okay, Sheila. I think I know what this is about. Where are we going, again, so my roommate will know….?”
“Federal Center on East University Avenue, in Gainesville. The Bureau has an office there. Think of this as an office visit, if you’d like.” Levy pursed those big lips into a faint smile, almost a smirk, amused at his own little joke.
“Yeah, right,” Sheila said, “This won’t hurt a bit—Angie, honey…are you going to be okay? You don’t have to go, you know. You’ve got rights…I can call Barney and get him out here…he can deal with these jokers.”
Angie waved her off with more confidence than she really felt and she knew perfectly well Sheila wasn’t fooled. “No, honestly, I think I know what this is about. I’ll be okay…won’t I?”
“We’ll bring her right back,” Levy said. “This won’t even take an hour.”
Sheila relented and watched her roommate and intern climb willingly into the back seat of the sedan. It sped off, lights out, into the night.
Sheila Shivers rubbed her tired eyes and massaged an aching back and shoulders. “This is one girl that really needs a hot shower.” And a couple of fingers of that Absolut vodka afterwards.
She went inside the apartment and double-locked the door.
The Federal building on East Uni
versity was in a part of town long known as the Duckpond. It was a non-descript eight-story steel and marble thing, with fake Corinthian columns out front, a sort of semi-Parthenon and probably some unknown government architect’s salute to ancient Greek majesty and proportion.
The Bureau offices were on the top floor.
Levy and Scanlon showed Angie into a small room with a table and four chairs. There were obvious cameras and sensors along the ceiling. Angie sipped gratefully at a surprisingly good hot coffee and played with a tray of doughnuts as she analyzed her surroundings. She had seen enough cop shows to imagine that one wall—probably the one opposite her—was a big one-way mirror.
Girl, get a grip…this is not a cop show.
Scanlon and Levy both came in, minus their jackets, and both carrying slates. They sat down.
“Okay, Miss Gilliam…” Levy, the ONI guy was first up to bat, “you’re here because you’re connected with a national security case we’re investigating. We know you’re involved with Chase Meyer. What’s the nature of the relationship?”
Angie nibbled at a doughnut. “Is this about that situation up north? The lab place?”
“In a way. Are you and Mr. Meyer…close?”
“He’s my boyfriend, if that’s what you mean. Shouldn’t I have a lawyer or something?”
Scanlon said, “Miss Gilliam, that won’t be necessary. You’re not being charged with anything. You’re not under arrest. Answer our questions fully and you’ll be out of here in an hour, maybe less. Promise.”
Angie looked at both of them and didn’t believe a word of it. But, as her Mom always said: when in doubt, just tell the truth. Too bad Dad didn’t buy into that, she thought sourly. The dirtbag left us when I was five…hooked up with that whore in Tallahassee.
“Okay, yeah, Chase and I are, like, friends, okay. Maybe a little more.”
“And where is Mr. Meyer now?”
The Farpool_Exodus Page 8
