“Well your wish came true,” Alicia said.
Foley Johnson had a thick, checkered green tortoise shell on his back and torso now (like that of a green turtle), and he demonstrated an ability to withdraw his black humanoid body into it. Many of the warriors seemed delighted by this, but Kimo had an unsettled feeling about everything he was seeing, wondering why it had all occurred, and what might happen next.
While the ones who had already metamorphosed in this manner seemed content with their new bodies, some of those who had not shown any such changes were visibly upset and nervous, fearful of what might happen to them. The brunette actress Monique Gatsby was expressing considerable concern about this. Then Kimo noticed two more warriors coming ashore, with each of them having partial crustacean features. Both of them were visibly upset and angry, and as they approached, the other warriors grew more silent, except for one who whispered near Kimo, “It’s Vinson Chi’ang and Emily Talbot!”
Just then, Kimo heard a shout from security, and he saw a woman on a hang-glider flying toward them, from the direction of the water. As she drew closer, he noticed that she had a camera, and she was shooting pictures of the Sea Warriors. Two security men rushed toward her, and one of them shot a volley of airborne smoke bombs that prevented her from taking any more good photos. But as she swooped away and out of the yellow haze, Kimo knew she had what she wanted. Her paparazzi photos would be worth a lot of money.
With the smoke clearing, Kimo saw that Chi’ang’s hands had become blue and white claws, though his face and the rest of his body appeared unchanged. Emily Talbot, whose dominion over crustaceans overlapped with his, was much more altered, with green and orange claws and pincers for hands, small red eyes, and twin antennae sprouting from her bright green, humanoid forehead.
Emily was crying, and shouted, “When I signed up to be a Sea Warrior, nothing was said to me about any external alterations to my body! It just so happens that I liked the way I looked, and I didn’t want it changed!”
“I’m afraid that’s out of our hands now,” Dirk Avondale said. “Any of us could be changed at any moment, but we can’t worry about it. You should not be thinking about yourself; you should instead be thinking about the welfare of the ocean, and what you can do for it.”
“We should have been told,” she insisted, and Chi’ang agreed.
“Maybe you should have asked the right questions,” another man suggested.
“The right questions?” Chi’ang shouted, scuttling awkwardly toward the warrior who had spoken. “How could any of us have known what questions to ask?”
“You’ll get over this,” Kimo said. “We all must accept our fates, whatever they might be, whenever they might become apparent. None of us really know what will happen next, but we must put our complete faith in Moanna. We must put our complete faith in the ocean.”
Flying over water made golden by the setting sun, Jeff made his way along the western shore of Loa’kai Island, heading for an abandoned yacht that was just now coming into view. The craft was a good distance from other vessels, far enough that he was not concerned about being seen.
Now he buzzed over the yacht, as he had done twice before, to see if anyone popped their head out. Again, no one appeared, so he set down in the water downwind of the anchored boat, perhaps a hundred feet away. With the wind blowing in this direction, it should keep the ‘copter and its rotors well away from the boat. He slipped on the empty waterproof backpack, then wrapped one end of a line around his waist and shoulders, and swam to the boat, where he tied up.
As expected, the yacht’s main cabin door was locked, but his backpack had a small crowbar in it, and he used the tool to rip the door open. The boat, perhaps seventy feet long and well appointed, reminded him of one that Pauly Tahina owned. The drug lord used to throw lavish parties on his yacht, and Jeff had been invited to some of them—before the contaminated stuff was delivered to the islands, and everything fell apart.
The main salon was decorated in rich, dark Hawaiian koa wood, with cabinets full of crystal goblets in holders to keep them from breaking at sea. Still dripping wet, he opened a set of drawers that contained an expensive set of antique silverware, but left it for the moment, heading for the master bedroom in the forward section. He discovered that there were two equal-sized bedrooms there, each of them large and well-appointed. One had women’s jewelry scattered on a counter in the dressing room, and a red cocktail dress on a hanger, and matching shoes beneath that—as if someone had been preparing for a gala event when she discovered that the boat could not get to Oahu.
Jeff examined several diamond, gold, and silver rings, necklaces, bracelets, and broaches closely: didn’t see anything that looked like costume jewelry. He stuffed everything in the backpack, then found a gold men’s watch in one of the dresser drawers, along with ruby cuff links, gold rings, and gold chains. All went into the pack. In the main salon, he loaded as much of the old silverware as he could into the pack. To convert such items into cash, he would need to set up arrangements with a fence, and already he had two names in mind, seemingly discreet men he’d met through Pauly.
Looking out a porthole, he confirmed that the wind strength and direction were holding steady, keeping the helicopter safely away from the boat. He loaded the silverware and a silver tea service, and made a second pass through the cabins, finding a folding chess set with exquisitely carved fossil ivory chess pieces, and an antique sextant, both of which fit into the pack.
In the air a short while later, Jeff extended the helicopter’s struts and made a landing in a remote jungle clearing on ranch property, where he unloaded a trunk of booty into a hiding place in the thick foliage (next to the money safe he’d already buried there), and wrapped dark plastic over the top of the trunk. It was dark when he returned to the ranch, and used a small tractor to tow the ‘copter into its hangar.
Finally, back in his room, he breathed a sigh of relief, and smiled to himself—because in this particular side enterprise he didn’t need to worry about drug-sniffing dogs. He might even have a legally enforceable salvage claim on the things he took, because the vessel had been abandoned at sea. For that matter, he might even be entitled to the whole yacht—but he would be content with what he got, not wanting to push his luck.
***
Chapter 19
From his earliest memories, Vinson Chi’ang had not liked to be crossed, and had never let an affront pass without seeking revenge for it. Growing up in the Chinese-American community of San Francisco, he had led a dual life—as an honor student, and as a hoodlum who prowled the neighborhoods of the city with a gang, looking for houses to break into and steal valuables.
Vinson had never killed anyone, but he had beaten them up badly, one time doing that to a former friend who had taken a girl away from him. For that betrayal he had knocked out one of the young man’s front teeth with a well-placed punch that also split his upper lip so badly that it never healed right—giving him reminders of his treachery to carry with him for the rest of his life.
Wearing black Sea Warrior swimsuits that still fit them, Vinson and the even-more-metamorphosed Emily Talbot sat on a log at Crimson Cove. It was mid-morning, and no one was around except for them, not even Jiddy Rahim. Staring down at the blue and white claws he now had for hands, Vinson felt his raw emotions on the surface, infusing his thoughts with so much rage that he had to do something about it. He had to get even.
The two of them had swum back to the cove and opened one of a dozen large trunks that Jiddy kept in his cave for the Sea Warriors, a place for the members to leave a few personal effects that they wanted to keep. Kimo had encouraged this, saying any one of them might change their mind later and decide not to continue with the organization, even if they had been transformed by Moanna.
In the conversations that Vinson and Emily had with Kimo before the first wave of recruits were taken down to Moanna, the only talk of transformation had been of internal bodily changes—giving those who passed mus
ter with the water goddess a swim bladder, gills, and other internal alterations that would enable them to swim anywhere in the sea, navigate in it, and eat ocean organisms. Or, if they wished, it was assumed that they could still walk on the land and go undetected as a hybrid. These things had all been discussed, and they had the examples of Kimo and Alicia, both of whom had been transformed so that only their gills were visible, and then only upon close examination behind their ears, underneath their hair lines. It made Vinson distrust those two in particular, and suspect that they had been lying all along—concealing terrible truths from the recruits.
Neither Vinson nor Emily had expected anything like this. Their bizarre physical appearances threatened to erase the plans he’d had for eventually leaving the Sea Warriors and enjoying a lavish lifestyle on the land, after obtaining whatever riches he could from his involvement with the organization. Because Emily’s changes were far more radical than his, she was even more upset and emotional—and as she sat beside him she could not prevent the tears from streaming down the rough, chitinous surface of her face—a bright green countenance that had narrowed and merged into her torso.
Previously he had never been physically attracted to Emily, and had only spent time with her because of their shared interest in crustaceans. Looking over at her now, he grimaced at the changes in her face, and her hands that had become green and orange claws—and he feared he might undergo additional changes himself. And yet, surprisingly, he now found her quite attractive, and even arousing. This confused him, and frightened him even more, and made him wonder how much longer he would retain any remnants of his human appearance. And it made what he had in mind even more urgent.
Reaching over, he grasped one of her claw hands in his own, and said, “We’d better get going.”
She looked at him inquisitively, with complete vulnerability in her small red eyes. The long antennae on her forehead twitched. “All right,” she said, standing up with her claw grasping her purse, one of the articles she had retrieved from a trunk, so that she would have identification papers. For the same reason Vinson had his wallet—and they placed the items in their waterproof packs, along with a cell phone that Vinson had set out in the sun to charge its solar battery. Having figured out how to use the phone with his claws and their sharp tips, he had succeeded in calling the U.S. Navy authorities in Pearl Harbor, and asking if they were interested in any Sea Warriors who wanted to defect, and if they wanted information on the inner workings of the organization. The answers to both questions had been strongly affirmative.
Vinson warned an officer on the phone about the radical physical changes he and Emily had undergone, and he seemed unsurprised. “I think I’ve seen a photo of you,” he said.
After sealing the packs, Vinson and Emily strapped them on, dove into the water, and began swimming.
An hour later they were back in Honolulu, climbing out of the water at Ewa Beach Park, near the entrance to Pearl Harbor. Startled sun bathers rose to their feet, pointing and whispering among themselves. Most people only basked in the sun, because there was so much fear of going in the water. Nonetheless, a few brave ones were swimming, and a couple of them even went out to the whales, dugongs, sunfish, and other large creatures who formed the sea barrier.
Followed by curious onlookers, the fantastically bizarre couple walked up to the road and climbed into a U.S. Navy staff car, driven by a seaman who was startled by their appearance as he let them into the back, and then kept looking at them in his rear view mirror as he drove.
A short while later, Vinson and Emily had their identifications checked and confirmed. Then they were escorted into a military office that looked out on the harbor, where they sat nervously on chairs and waited, still dripping a little water on the floor. One entire wall of the office was covered with an immense photograph of Pearl Harbor, taken on the day of the Japanese attack in 1941.
Presently two men entered, naval officers dressed in uniform slacks and shirts, but without their jackets or caps. One of them wiped his mouth with a paper napkin, then tossed it into a waste basket. Apparently, they had been eating breakfast.
After introducing themselves as Captain Garth and Lieutenant Bishop (and shaking the claw-hands awkwardly), they pulled up chairs and sat facing the visitors, staring rudely at their claws, and at the grotesque features of Emily’s face. This made the defecting Sea Warriors even more uncomfortable, and Vinson asked, “Admiral Turner is on his way? And the Governor?”
“They are busy attending to other matters,” Garth said. “We have been instructed to take your information and pass it along to them.”
Lt. Bishop had a video recorder, which he set up on a nearby desk, while turning on a connected computer monitor.
Chi’ang bristled. “I was very clear in my phone message today, that I only want to speak to the Admiral and the Governor. We want to offer information on the Sea Warriors, as part of a deal.”
“Give us the information first, and we’ll find out if you can have a deal,” Garth said. He had a stony, weathered face, while his companion appeared to be Hawaiian, with dark skin and Polynesian facial features.
“That’s not how a deal works,” Chi’ang said. “We want a guarantee that we will receive what we want in exchange for the valuable information—and our future services.” He clicked one of his claws. “As you can see, we have undergone … certain … physical alterations.”
“Yes,” Garth said, nodding. “Interesting. Now tell us what you know, and what you want.”
Chi’ang exchanged a glance with his companion, then began, reluctantly. “We are offering an alliance with the U.S. military, in which we will provide intelligence information on the activities of the ocean rebels—all the information we already know, plus whatever we can continue to develop. Miss Talbot and I are able to make crustaceans do what we want. For example, we can spy on Sea Warrior meetings in the water by sending in reef crabs or packrat lobsters, fitted with tiny military cameras, to record what is said. For other purposes, we have many, many crustaceans at our disposal. Millions, I’d say, and I’ve noticed that some of the species we’ve found in Hawaii are common to tropical waters in other parts of the world, and have not been seen around here—until Emily and I drew them to us.”
Captain Garth sneered. “So, you have a crab and lobster army of millions? And what would you propose that we do with such an army? Send them in to pinch the Sea Warriors into submission?”
“Oh no, we are not suggesting that at all. The rebel leaders have many powerful marine animals in their dominion, and our crustaceans would only be used in specialized situations. Yes, our animals can attack. But more importantly, Emily and I can remove them from the Sea Warrior’s arsenal, preventing Kimo Pohaku, for example, from inundating swimming beaches with crabs.”
“I thought they used jellyfish and stonefish for that, and sharks.”
“That’s true, but the crabs are yet another potent weapon in their arsenal that we can remove. Believe me, Captain, a throng of warrior crabs can be a formidable force, and can inflict a lot of injuries to people. We can prevent such services to your side.”
“And what do you want in exchange?” Lt. Bishop asked.
Reaching into his waterproof pack, Chi’ang brought out the small golden bird he had found near Kauai, and Emily produced the golden fish as well. He handed them to the Captain and said, “These appear to be artifacts from the Incans or perhaps from the Mayans, and I think they’re quite valuable.”
Chi’ang went on to describe the other artifacts they’d left behind in the water, then added, “We think there may be even more valuable articles near the site we located, perhaps from a Spanish galleon that went down. We would like to have the salvage rights on all old shipwrecks found in American waters. That should amount to some money, of course, but probably no more than a few million, because so many shipwrecks have already been found.”
Garth handed the figurines back to Chi’ang, said, “The United States government ca
nnot promise anything like that. Various nations—Spain among them—might have legal claims on any treasures that remain undiscovered, especially if they went down in their sovereign military ships.”
“Well, figure out some other way to pay us, then.”
The Captain and Lieutenant exchanged grins, and then Garth said, “We don’t know what the going rate for crab-army mercenaries is.”
“Or lobster soldiers,” Bishop said. “They could be defeated so easily with boiling water and nutcrackers.”
The men laughed heartily, causing Chi’ang to feel a hot flush of anger. Shaking, he rose to his feet with Emily. Everything was a blur around him. “I guess we don’t have anything further to discuss then,” he said, hearing the quavering in his voice.
Peripherally, he saw that Emily’s face was a ferocious scowl, and she shook with a rage that matched his own. Then suddenly, without a word exchanged between them, they lunged at the officers—Vinson at the Captain and Emily at the Lieutenant. The men cried out, but it was too late, as the attackers used razor-sharp claws to slash their throats and gouge into their chests to stop their hearts.
Bleeding and gasping their last breaths, the officers slumped to the floor. Vinson and Emily bounded over the pooling blood and slid open a door, then leaped off a balcony into the water of the harbor.
Using their humanoid ability to swim, while summoning help from every crab and lobster in the harbor, they made their way to a guided-missile cruiser that was docked nearby, and surfaced in the water alongside it. Hundreds of seamen were boarding the vessel, while uniformed officers stood on the decks. Suddenly, the hull was covered with crawling crustaceans—more crabs than anything else—and more were climbing up the pilings onto the dock. The crabs were the most aggressive, and the most nimble. Officers shouted and pointed, but none of them knew what to do, because nothing like this had ever happened before.
Ocean: The Sea Warriors Page 16
