***
Chapter 10
After picking up the McDevitt girl, Alicia and Kimo had made a stop-off on the Irish coast for a recruit, followed by a detour to northern Scotland for two more, and then the two last stops—in Florida, and in Panama on the way through the canal. During the trip back, Gwyneth McDevitt had spoken very little, but she had provided her own explanation (albeit ungrammatical), which she wrote on a piece of paper and handed to Alicia: “I am autism.”
In response, Alicia had smiled and said it didn’t matter to her, but privately she found the girl peculiar, very much different from any of the other volunteers, and extremely unskilled at communication because of her ailment. She had an agitated, pained expression on her gamine face, which only added to her oddness.
Thinking about this now as the jetfish pod sped across the Pacific Ocean, just beneath the surface, Alicia wondered why Gwyneth was even on the list of names that had appeared to Kimo, and what the unusual teenager could possibly do to help the ocean. It must be something important, because Alicia had confirmed with Kimo what she’d thought when she first saw Gwyneth on the pier in England—he said the girl was the same person he’d seen in his dreams, the same one who seemed to have absorbed huge amounts of ocean-related data into her brain. At the first opportunity, Alicia wanted to talk more with Kimo about Gwyneth, but that would have to wait until after all the volunteers visited Moanna—and were either accepted or rejected as Sea Warriors.
At the moment, Kimo was lying at the front of the passenger compartment, his hands and face pressed against the soft pod floor, massaging the amalgamated creatures and humming something melodic to them, calming them and somehow encouraging them to follow the course he wanted, urging them onward in the sea. She couldn’t hear Kimo now, but whenever she drew close she heard him making undulating sounds, and whenever he paused she heard the faint response tones of the creatures. She recalled an earlier conversation with Kimo in which he’d said that some aquatic animals made response tones to him, as if mimicking him—and she had observed him imitating the natural sounds made by turtles, dolphins, and whitetip sharks. It gave her a warm feeling, knowing that Kimo was so connected to the ocean. She loved both of them.
Kimo had also told her that he could send jetfish pods to wherever he wanted them to go, and not accompany them. But when he did ride in them, he liked to strengthen his bond with their species. They were a collective organism, he’d explained, and by getting close to them whenever he could, he was making a strong connection with all living members of the jetfish species, no matter where they were in the world.
The passenger compartment was noisy now, from numerous animated conversations that were going on simultaneously. She listened in on one of them for a moment, two men saying that humans needed to be completely evicted from the ocean if they were not going to treat it right. To Alicia, it was a startling thought, yet one that made some sense philosophically, though not from a practical standpoint. Anything like that would be a monumental undertaking, doomed to certain failure.
Two female scientists were discussing technical methods that might be used to heal ocean waters that were in the most trouble, including in the Pacific Ocean where coral reefs were dying on such a frightening scale, bleaching out and breaking into lifeless pieces. Other recruits discussed new laws that were needed, and strict enforcement all over the world.
Alicia stared at Kimo, transfixed by what he was doing….
Several days ago, during one of Kimo’s breaks, she had asked him how he guided the jetfish. The two of them had been sitting on one of the interior benches in the forward section of the passenger compartment, a few feet from Shauna McDill, the professional storyteller they had brought along. A short woman with soft features and eyeglasses, McDill had been standing with her back to Alicia, telling a humorous tale about an African fishing village that was populated by wise women and foolish men. The storyteller’s accents and sound effects were highly amusing.
In answer to Alicia’s question, Kimo had shrugged. “Can’t say I know how I do it, but it’s almost like I was born with the ability and only discovered it recently.”
“You hum something to the jetfish, and press your hands against their soft flesh, stroking it or massaging it. Somehow the creatures go exactly where you want them to go, and yet you can’t see outside the hull, so you can’t possibly see where we’re going. How do you set courses or make course corrections?”
“It’s the same answer as before. I just don’t know. Except that I feel a special connection with the creatures, something that locks into place between me and them, and they do what I want—it is as if they are an extension of me, as if I am them and they are me. It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?”
“Not at all. Not to me. I also feel something strange whenever I generate waves, but my strong connection is with seawater instead of sea creatures—as if the ocean is a life form itself, and I have a paranormal linkage with it.”
“But it is a life form,” Kimo had said. “I overheard a couple of the scientists talking, and they said that each drop of seawater on the surface is teeming with life, millions of organisms in a single drop of water—tiny plant and animal organisms called phytoplankton and zooplankton that drift with the currents. You might have an extraordinary connection with those life forms. Your waves are on the surface of the sea, just as they are.”
“Wow. That’s really interesting.”
“I’ve seen the tiny organisms in a microscope they brought aboard, and I’ve seen them in my dreams—greatly enlarged. Despite its problems the ocean is brimming with life, and both of us have a unique connection with it. Concerning your ability to generate waves, there is more plankton in colder waters than in the tropics, though the tiny life forms are spread all over the world. Another interesting thing—most of the zooplankton dive deeper in daylight hours and come back to the surface at night, to feed on phytoplankton. These facts make me wonder if you might generate even more powerful waves in colder climates., or at night.”
“Maybe, but I suspect not. I suspect that the entire ocean, every aspect of it, is essentially a single life form, a collective organism, and you and I have a special relationship with it—just as you have with all living members of the jetfish species. Some people say the entire planet is a life form called Gaia.”
He’d considered that for a moment, then had nodded and said, “I like that way of thinking. Yes, it sounds plausible.”
“And what if it’s even bigger than that?” she’d asked, hearing the excitement in her own voice. “What if we’ve tapped into the core power that drives the entire universe?”
“Hmmm, I don’t know. I mean, we can easily say that every human being is tapped into the core power of the universe, because all life forms are connected to it.”
“Sure, the basic physics of properties in motion, and how they interact on a micro and macro scale.”
“We’re tapped into something all right,” he’d said, nodding. “The question is, what is it?”
“Maybe it’s too big for us to ever understand, Kimo, like the concept of a universal god. Maybe we shouldn’t even try, and should just try to do the right thing with the abilities we have.”
He’d nodded. “The right thing, yes the right thing. That’s what this ocean project is all about, isn’t it?”
During the voyage, Alicia and Kimo had been receiving questions from the recruits about what they would experience when they reached the waters of Hawaii—but both of them deferred most of their responses for a general meeting that would be held when they were almost there. Alicia had told Kimo he should conduct the meeting, because he had so much more experience than she did.
When they were a couple of hours away from Loa’kai island, Kimo gathered everyone and began speaking to them. In his bare feet, he wore shorts and a faded green Hawaiian shirt, with the tails out. He said it would be early afternoon when they arrived, and the volunteers would enjoy a picnic on the beach before being tak
en deep into the vault of the ocean, to the realm of Moanna, the amorphous goddess of the water.
“It might be your last chance for food from the land,” he said, “at least for awhile.”
Kimo went on to describe the means by which they could dive deep inside a bubble tube, and what the experience would be like. He spoke of some of the spectacular colors and ocean creatures they might see as they descended into the deep, and what it would be like to be in the presence of Moanna herself.
He also said that, depending on the availability of the fish required to form a bubble tube, another deep-diving system might need to be used—something he called the “seavator,” which he described as a huge clam shell lowered by giant squids of the genus Architeuthis. If that mode became necessary, he said the underwater views for the passengers would not be as good, because the colossal clams only had small viewing ports on their tops and bottoms. The clam-squid system surprised Alicia, because she had not heard of it previously, but she remembered Kimo telling her how vast the seas were, and how even he only knew a small portion of what there was to know about them.
Now Kimo reminded his audience that the Sea Goddess might not accept all of them, in which case they would not become hybrids. “If that happens, you might still be able to contribute in some other way to the Sea Warriors, as associates, if you wish to do so. Or, we will transport you back to the same place we picked you up.”
“Like a money-back guarantee?” a mustachioed man asked, eliciting laughter from those around him.
“Sort of like that,” Kimo said, with a smile.
He answered more questions, then spoke of the gills behind his and Alicia’s ears, which they had already shown to most of the volunteers. This time he took a few moments to describe how the respiratory organs enabled him to obtain oxygen from seawater and breathe while immersed, and how it felt when he did that, and during transitional times when he was entering the water and leaving it. He also spoke of the amazing ability of his body (and Alicia’s) to withstand deep-sea pressures, without the necessity of diving equipment, and the way they could find food in the water.
“I am not a scientist,” he said, “so my comments are more personal than technical—my attempt to let you know what it might be like if you are successfully transformed—as Alicia and I have been.”
Alicia added a few observations of her own. Then Kimo grinned and asked, “For those of you who might be transformed into hybrids, are you ready to snatch small fish out of the water and eat them whole, or swallow fat lugworms, or suck plankton into your new body’s filter system? Do you want to know how I eat crustaceans in the wild? Or how I avoid eating animals such as moray eels, because they might be carrying toxins from poisonous fish they eat, and which did not harm them?” Without waiting for anyone to answer, he said, “If you are transformed I will teach you how to live on the bounty of the sea, and—very important!—how to avoid harming endangered species. We are in the ocean to live in harmony with it and contribute to its welfare, not to commit detrimental acts.”
The most outspoken oceanographer onboard, Vinson Chi’ang, said, “Many species of animal life—including crabs, lobsters, and fish—begin as microscopic larval organisms in zooplankton, and then grow larger, eventually leaving the plankton colonies and swimming freely in the sea, where they continue to grow until they are adults. How can we make certain that the plankton we consume does not contain anything that is endangered, and in an embryonic form?”
When Kimo hesitated, Alicia said, “That is why we need you, Mr. Chi’ang, to come up with a way for us to behave with complete propriety.”
Laughter spread through the passenger cabin, and Chi’ang reddened. “I asked a serious question, and it deserves a serious answer.”
“We are a new organization,” Alicia countered, “trying to figure out the proper ways of doing things.” She glared at him. “I gave you a serious answer, sir, and we shall look for your contribution.”
Now Kimo said, “One of your first duties, Chi’ang, if you are accepted as a Sea Warrior, will be to analyze the animal life that inhabits the plankton colonies, and give us your recommendations. No one here doubts the importance of the work we all have to do, and I promise you, we take the matter of endangered species quite seriously.”
The attractive young French student, Pauline Deveaux, said something to Chi’ang in a low voice. He nodded, and fell silent.
A woman asked where Moanna came from. To this Kimo replied, “You will need to experience her sacred presence, and then you will see that the answer—whatever it might be—does not really matter in the least. It only matters that the goddess occupies her hallowed domain, ruling over the waves and all that lies beneath them, and that she is guiding our important work.”
“You make it sound like a religion,” the woman said.
“Perhaps it needs to be,” Alicia said, “to make humans revere the seas, instead of raping them. Maybe there should be a blue religion.”
It was a startling juxtaposition of thoughts and images, and everyone fell silent. Even Chi’ang, who had apparently not thought of this concept.
A short while later ,he long, sleek jetfish pod returned to Hawaii and beached itself in Crimson Cove, where it created an opening on the top of the mottled hull for the passengers to disembark. It was early afternoon on a sunny Saturday, and as the people climbed out into the shallow water and waded to the beach, they were greeted by Jiddy Rahim, from his perch above them on the hillside.
“Greetings ladies and gentlemen!” he shouted, standing in front of his cave entrance. “I have prepared pots of coffee for you, and gourmet foods from my state-of-the-art kitchen.”
“Don’t pay any attention to him,” Kimo shouted to everyone in a loud voice. Grinning up at Jiddy, he added, “He never has any coffee around here, but likes to imagine he’s taking java breaks at all hours, and sometimes I humor him by attending.”
Jiddy laughed uproariously, and made his way down the narrow trail to the beach, where he spoke with some of the passengers.
Now, for several minutes Kimo stood in shallow water, pressing his face against the red, translucent side of the amalgamated creature, while gently massaging it. When he was finished and the jetfish were separating and swimming out into the cove, he strode over to Jiddy and gave him a hug.
“So,” Jiddy said, “who’s the craziest between us? The one who talks to sea critters or the one who imagines the rich smell of coffee?”
“We’re quite a pair, my friend, quite a pair.”
Alicia helped Gwyneth out and made certain she had a comfortable place to sit on a driftwood log, then rounded up several of the younger men to help Danny Ho unload the remaining containers of food. By prior arrangement, Jiddy pitched in to help, in exchange for which Danny would give him as much of the remaining food as he could pack into a large steel storage chest in his cave at the cove. The men also unloaded the toilets and reserve holding tanks, which would be picked up later in the day by a contractor, one of Kimo’s many cousins.
On the beach, the volunteers enjoyed the picnic Kimo had promised, while he and Alicia chatted with the group in relaxed tones, and provided them with additional information. Every once in awhile, Alicia checked on Gwyneth to see if she was all right—and the girl seemed to be quite content, collecting small, colorful shells from the beach and returning to her log where she sat and examined each of them in detail. Somehow, without Alicia seeing her, she had apparently been swimming, because she was dripping wet in her jeans and a pastel pink blouse, having removed her sweater and tossed it on the sand. She sat in direct sunlight, warming herself.
Alicia, wearing a light blue, two-piece swimsuit with Hawaiian flower designs on it, found her own place to sit on the warm red sand, beside Pauline Deveaux, with Vinson Chi’ang on the other side of the young Frenchwoman. Ever since Alicia’s testy exchange with him onboard the jetfish craft, the Asian-American man had been relatively silent, but did not seem to be brooding.
; Now Pauline looked at Alicia and grinned as she asked, “Will Moanna turn me into a mermaid?”
Chi’ang didn’t move or even seem to hear her when she said this, and appeared to be deep in his own thoughts.
“I don’t think so,” Alicia said, with a gentle smile. She took a bite out of a turkey and swiss-cheese sandwich, savoring the flavors as she thought of the raw, uncooked fare she would be consuming in the ocean for the next few days, when she and Kimo would coach any of the volunteers who were successfully transformed how to eat. It wasn’t that she disliked the more natural fare; it was just that she was not quite used to it herself, and thus far she had been able to eat on land whenever she felt like it. That was all likely to change very soon.
Near her on the sand, a bearded, older man had heard Pauline’s question, and he commented, in a British accent, “I am a marine-biology professor specializing in extinct species of sea life, but I also have a doctorate in mythology, with considerable knowledge of the legends of the sea.” He paused, tipped a green beret he was wearing and added, “Allow me to introduce myself. Professor Marcus Greco, at your service.”
“Nice to meet you,” Alicia said. “I remember picking you up on the Thames River.”
“Yes, that is correct.” His brown eyes twinkled. “Your Moanna is of great interest to me. You say she has already transformed both you and Kimo, in slightly different ways. But what if Miss Deveaux’s question is not so far-fetched? What if Moanna could transform her into a mermaid, and the rest of us into other creatures with tails, flippers, fins, or other non-human means of propelling ourselves through the sea?”
“That is something only Moanna knows,” Alicia said. “But I assume the new hybrids will just receive gills, swim bladders, plankton filtration systems, enhanced arterial systems, heightened underwater hearing abilities, and other changes that will not show much on the outside—just as Kimo and I have received.”
Ocean: The Sea Warriors Page 7
