If a single gas bubble expanded seven times, it could cause great pain in a human’s body. That’s exactly what happens; the Bends or Decompression Sickness (DCS) can be painful, or it can affect the human’s brain making it sleepy or incoherent. It can create rashes, cause paralysis or even death. Jake didn’t like the way Navy men talked about it: "bends" for joint or skeletal pain, "chokes" for breathing problems, and "staggers" for neurological problems. Bends, chokes, and staggers. Scary.
Jake swam around the dormitory pod, staying low below the edge of the windows. No sense in getting caught. But the temptation to see who was living here was great.
Immediately, the lights went off, except one—it was like someone had called, “Lights Out.”
Jake crept close, swimming up the curved wall. Someone was leaning against the window, though. He stopped just in time.
Seastead
Jake backed away far enough from the windows so that no light fell on him. Those inside couldn’t see him, but he was still close enough to see them.
The door opened, and a figure strode in.
Startled, Jake recognized the man as Commander Gordon. Risonian military had different ranks than the U.S. Navy, of course. Jake and Dad had once sat down and created a chart that showed comparable duties, and Gordon’s rank on Rison equaled Dad’s rank as Commander.
This was a Risonian military installation. A Seastead.
The impact of this hit Jake full force. As Risonian ambassador, his mom had been pushing for diplomatic permission to install an experimental station. Officially, the answer was a resounding no. But apparently, someone had said yes. Because getting this kind of an installation built and functional meant lots of work, and possibly lots of work that the public might see; that meant lots of public relations work to make it look like something else.
The door opened again. Jake froze in shock. Walking into Commander Gordon’s room in this illegal Seastead was his friend from school. David.
Looking from David to Commander Gordon, Jake realized they were father and son. That’s why David had looked so familiar, yet so different.
That meant—
A quiver ran down Jake’s spine. In civics class, they’d discussed Sleeper Cells and how enemies infiltrated a country and acted just like they were normal folk. That is, until they were needed. David was like that. He was a daily spy, coming to Bainbridge High School and pretending to be a normal kid. If the press ever learned about this Seastead, it would be a disaster for Risonian public relations.
And yet Jake understood why they so desperately needed this experimental station. When they did get official permission, they couldn’t afford any disasters; everything had to run smoothly from Day One. This was probably experimental in the purest sense of the word, including problems or even disasters.
Now David and his Dad hugged; they turned to bunks, and the light went out. It was late and Jake needed to get back before Sir and Easter worried. Jake wanted to laugh at the irony of this evening: he’d visited David’s “house,” after all.
Swimming upward, Jake thought about his strange friendship with David Gordon. He’d been helpful, without Jake ever knowing why. When Jake had fallen into Puget Sound and pulled Ms. Fleming’s kayak back to shore, it’d been David who told people that Jake had only been in the water a few minutes. He’d smoothed out things without anyone noticing. That meant—David knew who Jake’s parents were! He was a fellow Risonian. All this time, Jake could’ve had a Risonian friend and just didn’t know it. But, Wow! David played it well. Even Jake hadn’t suspected that he was Risonian. He wondered if David had plastic surgery on his nose or something. Or if he’d learned how to hold his nose membranes open all the time.
Jake had to think about what this all meant. Rison had—with or without permission—already created a Seastead on Earth. Were there more Seasteads in different places around the globe? Or was this the only one?
His mother had to know. And that hurt. Like Dad, who was under orders not to share his activities, Mom was probably ordered to keep him out of the loop. But it hurt that both parents had secrets—important, life-changing and world-changing secrets—but told him nothing. Instead, they had commanded him to disappear, to be silent, to hide. He wasn’t a coward! He could take the pressure. But they didn’t believe that. Jake longed for a way to show them that he was part of this fight and not just an innocent bystander.
But the Seastead installation meant something even deeper. Jake had to think this through. He’d always told himself that someday he’d go back to Rison and see Swann and his friends and his home and—but no. Rison had at least one Seastead installation on Earth. This plan—evacuate as many Risonians as possible and establish a new home on Earth—was the only feasible plan they had. They had considered invading, of course, just taking the planet by force. But that wasn’t the Risonian way, any more than it would be an Earthling strategy if humans had to leave their planet. Risonians had morals just like humans had morals.
The fact remained: there was no fallback plan; for twenty years they had fought against this alternative and looked for other planets, other options. Their starships had scoured the universe for a new home. They had satellites similar to Earth’s Kepler Space Observatory that hunted for habitable planets. But in the star systems they could reach, no other planet could sustain them. Only Earth was a water planet like theirs; only Earth had acceptable temperature ranges and atmosphere. It was Earth. Or nothing.
Earth either accepted them, or it was xenocide, the death of an entire race. Seastead confirmed that.
So, perhaps it was time for Jake to accept Earth.
The Fullex Incident
The next morning, Easter was glued to the morning TV programs, as usual. She flipped from station to station, sampling the news stories. She particularly loved the stories about a woman’s 100th birthday, or a boy whose dog rescued him, or an adopted kid who is reunited with a birth mother. Sappy stories were like candy for Easter.
Jake poured a bowl of cereal and milk, and then ate it hunched over his tablet while scrolling through news feeds and wishing his parents would let him set up social media accounts.
Easter watched a touching video of a military man coming home and crying when he saw his wife.
“You aren’t still homesick, are you?” Easter asked casually.
Suddenly, Jake was homesick. A flood of memories crashed over him: Swann racing him through the South Seas near the resort of N’Drew; watching the Gripla Volcano erupt at sunset; eating wolkev, his favorite Risonian pastry, often served at breakfast. It required Risonian spices and the sweet wolkev fruit; where would they find that on Earth? Did his Mom even have a wolkev recipe? Could they bring seeds of the fruit to plant here on Earth or would that disturb the ecosystem?
“I’m okay,” he managed to mumble.
Easter flipped channels again, just in time for them to both hear a news anchor say: “This just in: the Risonian spaceship Fullex has been shot down.”
Jake spun in his chair to stare at the TV.
The anchor continued, her face grave: “A Risonian spaceship, full of 500 refugees, including an estimated 100 children, has been shot down by the European Union.”
All dead. No survivors.
Fullex. In Risonian, it meant “Peace.”
Jake was stunned. He dropped his spoon into his cereal, and it splattered milk. Dumbly, he saw the milk droplets land on the table and pool up. A white drop of cow milk. They didn’t have cows on Rison. What did that matter? He asked himself stupidly. Vaporized. 500 fellow Risonians were just—gone.
He wondered if he had known anyone on the flight. 500 Risonians out of a planet of millions. Likely, they’d come from the Bo-See Coalition of countries in the southern hemisphere, because they disagreed with the Chancellor Quad-de and Tizzalura on negotiating with Earth. Bo-See had pushed for a different ambassador, a different strategy. They had probably just decided to launch their own ship. The chance that he personally knew anyone was sl
im. And yet, he was nauseous, sickened by this waste of life. Risonians only wanted a new start, a new home, and for that hope, they had been shot out of the sky.
The head of the European Union was on the TV now: “We regret the loss of life, but they were warned not to violate Earth’s air space. The U.S. wasn’t going to take action, so we had to.”
On Rison, it was Tizzalura vs. the Bo-See. On Earth, it was the U.S. vs. the European Union. That was too simplistic a description on both planets, but the results were clear: politics had killed those 500 Risonians.
Then it was Mom talking on the TV, tears running down her cheeks, her hair mussed, her lips trembling, her voice a high wail: “We come in peace. We come in peace. We come in peace.”
She was so shaken that she could say nothing else. The camera and lighting was angled up from below her chin, so you could see her nose membranes quivering. Mom had never looked so alien. Or so forlorn. The Face of Rison.
Easter came over and hugged Jake. He clung to her, not conscious of anything except the smell of coffee and bacon from Easter. And he longed for the sweet taste of wolkev.
Earthquakes
After the news of the Fullex explosion, Jake was too shaken to go to school. He stayed home and watched the news reports pour in. But interest in the Risonian tragedy flagged quickly, and by noon, the news programs were back to Mt. Rainier. He should’ve turned it off, but now he was as obsessive as Easter, flipping from station to station.
Mt. Rainier might blow. How many ways, Jake wondered, could you say that? The news programs were incredibly inventive:
Helicopter shots into the crater.
Reports on the history of Mt. Rainier, with a recap of the “paradise” statement from early explorers.
Interviews with those in the lahar’s path, like the Tullis’s and Hill’s cabins.
Rehash of the Mt. St. Helen eruption and a comparison of that mountain to Mt. Rainier.
Comparisons of a possible eruption of Mt. Rainier to the Big 3: Vesuvius, Pompeii and Krakatoa.
Comparisons of Mt. Rainier to any other famous volcano eruption.
Interviews with volcanologists, each repeating the other, but claiming exclusive information.
Scientists talking about the increasing temperature of the fumarole gases.
Scientists holding their noses and talking about the increasing presence of sulfur dioxide in the fumarole gases.
Interviews with wackos who predicted the end-of-the-world.
Jake thought the wacko interviews were particularly ironic, since it almost was the end of Rison. Predict that Rison was about to be blown to bits, and you’d be right.
Missing from every news program was a comparison of Mt. Rainier to volcanoes on Rison. ELLIS Forces were hinting that the fault lay with the Risonians, but without specifics, it was just a rumor. And Jake guessed that they wouldn’t admit—if they even knew—that their Captain had sent a drone full of Brown Matter into Mt. Rainier’s crater. That wouldn’t play well in the press.
But in the midst of it all, there was no denying that Mt. Rainier was still smoking. And now, there were earthquakes. Minor tremors, something locals might actually ignore, except—there was that smoking volcano. It was impossible to ignore the increasing instability of the ground they walked upon. He suspected that if he were closer to Mt. Rainier, he’d hear the magma songs even louder now.
Three times that week, small earthquakes struck. Once while in civics class, which, of course, prompted Coach Blevins to rant and rave about Risonians. The second time was while Jake was cooking with Easter. She took it calmly enough, stopping only to close her eyes and offer up a silent prayer.
The third time, Jake was walking with Em, which he did regularly now.
Jake met her after school and took her backpack. She resisted for a second, but he held up a hand to stop her. That was enough; she handed over her backpack and smiled shyly at him. Now, shouldering both backpacks, he began to walk Em over to the Aquatic Center.
Suddenly, the ground jolted and Em stumbled. One leg slid left and she fell, catching herself on her forearms so that her face didn’t smash into the ground. Just as quickly, the Earth settled. The whole thing took just three seconds.
When she rose, Em’s face was dark. “If you don’t tell some official what happened on the field trip, I will,” she threatened.
“No,” Jake said. After the spaceship was shot down earlier that week, there was no way he was going to do anything that might point suspicion to Risonians.
Em flipped her black braid behind her back and said to the sky, “I’ve already talked to Marisa and told her about Captain Hill and the drone. She didn’t believe me until she talked to him. He said that the Sharks had already put Brown Matter into Mt. Rainier, and was trying something to counteract it. Is that true?”
“No,” Jake’s panic turned to fury. He let both packs fall to the ground and stood rigid, trying to control his anger.
“Hey! Don’t drop my pack like that!”
Em snatched up her backpack and flailed around trying to get both her gym bag and backpack settled on her own shoulders.
Grudgingly, her awkwardness loosened his anger. He wanted to stay angry at Captain Hill, but how could he do that when he was around Em? She was too charming, too—practically perfect.
She leaned to one side to keep the backpack in position, and the gym bag hung almost to the ground. Even awkward, though, she was so lovely. “Captain Hill also says that the Sharks are poisoning Puget Sound.”
Jake sucked in a breath. “What?”
“He says that’s why the harbor seals are sick.”
Through gritted teeth, he asked, “You believe him?”
Em sighed deeply. “I don’t know what to believe. What did I see at that mountain lake? You and Captain Hill fought, but over what? I don’t have enough information and neither of you is giving me more.”
Frustrated, Jake said, “I don’t have enough information, either.”
Then, lips compressed, he turned and stalked away. Saying it out loud had made him realize the truth of it: his parents told him nothing. There was a Seastead under his nose and no one thought to tell him about it. Okay. He’d go and find more information. And when he had the information, he’d tell Em everything.
Shark Spies
Across the parking lot, Jake saw David and Jillian. Okay. David was Risonian and lived in Seastead. Suddenly, he saw Jillian with new eyes and frowned. Was she Risonian, too? Did David have a partner-in-crime after all? Her face was long and narrow, but she didn’t have nose wrinkles. But then, neither did David. Did they both get a nose job?
Angry with Em, Captain Hill, and pretty much the whole planet of Earth, Jake decided to follow the two potential spies. They were a block ahead, and he kept that distance as he followed. He’d watched enough spy movies while on the Moon Base, though; he crossed to the opposite side of the street, so he wouldn’t be noticed as easily.
David and Jillian walked slowly, talking and laughing. It was a lovely mid-November day with clear blue skies. They turned onto a street that led down to Murden Cove. A couple blocks later, Jillian unlocked the door to a large house, and the two slipped inside.
Jake walked around the house, and at the back, the house sat right on the water. A dock led down to a fancy fishing shack painted forest green. Outside hung a couple cheap fishing poles and nets to scoop up fish. A white Styrofoam ring hung next to them, proclaiming, “Save the Whales.”
The back door opened.
Quickly, Jake pressed against the sidewall and sank to a deep crouch, making himself as small as possible.
David and Jillian emerged.
Jake could barely stop himself from whistling. In her bikini, Jillian was stunning. She was tall for a girl, blond hair halfway down her back. Walking to the fishing shack, her hips swung and entranced, Jake thought about the Earth folk tales of mermaids again. If Jillian was caught and accused of being Risonian, she could probably use that as an excuse: “I
’m a mermaid, sir.” And any young police officer would want to believe her.
But it was all wrong. You didn’t wear a bikini this time of year to go swimming. Unless you were a Risonian female.
To be fair, there was an unusual fence alongside the dock that blocked any view of the shack and dock from the street. David and Jillian probably felt safe from any onlookers. Isolated, the house sat at the end of the road, off a little bit from the others.
Sneaking to the shoreline, Jake shed his shoes and jacket and wished he had swim trunks to wear. He strode into the water and swam quietly under the dock, taking care not to splash, until he was almost under David and Jillian and could hear them talking.
Apparently, Jillian was mad. “Are we a sleeper cell?”
“Of course,” David said reasonably
“But that’s awful,” Jillian wailed. “Sleepers are despicable, because they have divided loyalties. You think they are just normal Americans and then you discover, what? They’re evil aliens? That’s us, David! Don’t you see how awful it is? We’re Americans! How can we be a sleeper cell, too?”
“You think that’s awful? Earth just blew up the Fullex and my aunt is dead. That’s despicable. Earth isn’t allowing Risonians to come here, so they’ll just stand aside and watch genocide. No, a xenocide, the death of a whole planet. That’s what’s despicable.”
Jake was surprised at David’s vehemence, but he understood it. The Fullex incident had hit him hard, too.
“But we shouldn’t be surprised,” Jillian said sadly, her anger suddenly gone. “They can’t even save the whales. Or the tigers. Or a thousand other species. They can’t share Earth even with the species who are supposed to be here. We’re crazy to think they’ll let us crowd up their planet.”
Sleepers Page 16
