The Cocoon Trilogy

by David Saperstein

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “That new diving team. They’re Navy.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “No one. I’ve been around those boys before.”

  “Well, that’s very interesting, Captain. If the seas are getting heavy, I think we’d best be heading up to Boynton Beach now.” She gathered her chart, signaling the conversation was over.

  “Whatever you say, Doctor.” He turned to begin preparations to change course.

  Dr. Macklow paused before leaving the bridge. “I’m sorry if this mission is a bit strange, Captain. It’s not my style to be secretive. All I can say is that in a few hours it will all be quite clear to you. And after that I can promise you some of the most interesting work you or I have ever done.” She smiled and left the bridge. He believed her.

  The high seas and dark night were going to be both helpful and difficult. The original plan to take the people from the Watership to Elliot Key by helicopter had been abandoned because of the weather and the presence of a Soviet submarine detected in the area. Instead, the Manta III and Terra Time would be used to transport the visitors to the waiting helicopters now on the ground on Elliot Key. The fishing boats would be escorted by two Navy attack speedboats and, at a distance, by the destroyer USS Metz. A medical team from Houston, along with their hi-tech incubators and infant life-support systems, were aboard the speedboats.

  Below the Manta III, ready to be jettisoned, the Antarean Probeship with Amos Bright, the Finley’s and Green’s on board communicated with the Watership flight bridge through the commanders.

  Everything was in place. The Operation Earthmother flotilla began to converge toward the six-hundred-foot wreck off Boynton Beach where Manta III and Terra Time, their bows turned into the ever increasing swells, waited to gather in their precious cargo. From a distance aboard the navy vessels, the operation looked like a drug-running trap that was about to be sprung on the two charter boats.

  The Remembrance reached the apogee of the first SSP release orbit at 11:17 P.M. Eastern Standard Time, 521 miles above Earth. The first solar screen was begun six minutes later. By midnight a polymer screen eleven molecules thick was spun and spread out over more than twenty-nine square miles of space, thirteen more miles than had been estimated. The screen, visible from Earth as a bright smear in the eastern sky, was awesome. The world began to pay close attention to this scientific phenomenon, especially since they had been told that in another two hours a second screen, thirty times that size, would be manufactured twice as close to the Earth.

  On the dark side of the moon, two of the three storage tanks had been disconnected from the Watership and brought down to the moon’s surface by Probeships. They were guided into a deep crater, fastened to the porous lunar rock, and then camouflaged to match the surrounding lunar surface. According to plan, the remaining tank, the one that would eventually carry the cocoons back to Antares, was brought alongside the Watership’s main thruster unit and attached in a configuration that gave the smallest silhouette possible. Since speed was not a factor on their Earth approach, it was possible to present a very compact, almost spherical meteorite appearance, should the SSP fail to mask the Watership’s entry into the Earth’s atmosphere. On board, excitement grew among the Brigade members and commanders. But all was quiet with the Parman guides who were comfortably at rest, rejuvenating their outer crystal layer, which always suffered some wear and tear from cosmic debris and dust as they pulled and guided Antarean spacecraft throughout the galaxy. Everything was ready at 1:30 Eastern Standard Time. All that remained was for the Remembrance to release the second solar screen.

  At precisely 2:13 Eastern Standard Time, the second solar screen, manufactured in space to a thickness of three molecules, spread out across the nearly moonless heavens covering more than one thousand square miles of the void above Earth. Every radar, telescope, military facility and research center in the world concentrated on the huge, oval-shaped cloud that glistened in the night sky from lights on the Earth below.

  The Watership rose slowly above the rim of the moon. Ahead the Earth, a bright blue and white planet appeared and beckoned. The Antarean flight crew aligned their approach with the coordinates Amos Bright telepathed, aligning the Watership to make maximum use of the protective solar screen shield.

  After traveling to distant planets in our galaxy, and discovering wonders never before dreamed of in human experience, the atmosphere aboard the Watership was charged with but one thought as they observed the blue planet set in the inky blackness of the cosmos. Home!

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE – SPLASHDOWN

  At 2:45 A.M. the thinner second solar screen’s leading edge began to make contact with the edge of the Earth’s atmosphere. The Watership was safely tucked in above it and beneath the first screen. In effect it was the meat inside a polymer sandwich. But in this case the meat was unobserved from the Earth below and the various satellites above. As more and more of the thin polymer entered the atmosphere, it gathered speed from gravity’s pull and began to burn and disintegrate. The fire spread across thirty miles of the atmospheric envelope, a truly spectacular sight as observed from the Eastern seaboard and the Operation Earthmother flotilla below. As more of the screen entered the atmosphere the fire and debris grew more intense, and at a predetermined moment, when the fire was at its peak, the Watership slipped into the atmosphere, its outer skin turning red hot at great speed. It hurtled down toward the rough Florida waters, impacting with a huge, explosive splash-down thirty miles south and east of Elliot Key.

  The burning screens were a large enough diversion to mask the entry of the Watership. From the point where it left the cover of the screens appeared to be a large meteor that punched through the debris from the burning screens. NASA made the announcement about the meteor, stating that it had collided with the screens, pulling some of the material along with it, causing the test to be inconclusive. That phenomenon made the meteor appear much larger than it actually was as it plunged into the ocean off the Florida coast in deep water. They added that a NOAA research vessel was in the vicinity, as were two navy ships and an attempt would be made to locate the meteor and bring it to the surface.

  Activities aboard the various ships involved in Operation Earthmother heightened as soon as the flaming Watership dropped from the skies above and crashed into the sea twenty miles away.

  Cummings and Betters stood on the bridge of the Hapsas, awed by the sight of the blazing sky above and the fiery ball that lit up the rough waters around them before it crashed into the sea and disappeared. The small fleet was visible all around them. Then it was dark again.

  “Jesus, Matt. Did you see all those ships?” Coolridge Betters asked.

  “I counted eight, maybe ten. What the hell was that fireball?”

  “A meteor.”

  “And the way the sky lit up. Did you see that?”

  “Yeah. Some kind of test. They were talking about it on the TV this morning.” Gary McGill stood near them on the deck, but the fireworks had been so distracting that the two cops hadn’t noticed him come up behind them

  “I saw Jack Fischer’s boat. And the other one too,” Betters said.

  “The Terra Time. But the rest of the boats were pretty big, huh?”

  “Too big to be chasing a couple of dope runners in slow charter boats.”

  Suddenly, the sea began to calm and glow with a yellow phosphorescence. McGill stepped between them and put his arms around their shoulders. “You’re right about that, guys. I guess the moment for truth has arrived, or is about to arrive I should say.” He indicated the calm, brightening sea around them as the submerged Watership approached.

  Amos Bright had released the Probeship from the Manta III at the moment the Watership struck the ocean. He moved straight toward it to guide the huge spacecraft to the area above the six-hundred-foot wreck. Excitement coursed through the cabin of the Probeship as the Finley’s and Green’s anticipated their reunion with their fellow commanders
.

  The President’s party aboard the USS Simi, Captain Walkly’s flagship, were on deck to observe the Watership descent and arrival. The sight was spectacular. In the excitement of the moment, Malcolm Teller forgot himself and hugged Margo McNeil in front of everyone.

  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” he exclaimed, “will you look at that. Spectacular! And to think there are Americans on board that spaceship.”

  “Watership,” Gideon Mersky corrected. He remained outwardly calm, but inside, especially when he noted the instantaneous deceleration of the Antarean craft just before it struck the water. His heart rate increased substantially as he contemplated the military significance of the technological secrets the Antareans and the Geriatric Brigade must possess.

  “You want to tell me about it now, Doctor?” Roger Hadges, the NOAA captain asked after the fireball had submerged and Dr. Macklow had instructed him to head toward the meteor’s entry point.

  The tall marine biologist nodded. “To begin with, that wasn’t a meteor.”

  “Part of that Solar Screen Program the President announced this morning?”

  “No, not really. It’s a spacecraft.”

  “Christ. Not another accident?” Hadges said softly, referring to the Challenger disaster.

  “No. No!,” she answered. “This spacecraft is not ours.”

  “Soviet?” he asked, then called out to the boson at the wheel,” Take her to 140…”

  “Antarean,” Dr. Macklow said matter-of-factly

  “Antarean? Where’s that?” The bosun spun the wheel to port.

  “From Antares. It’s a planet in another solar system,” she responded calmly, watching the wily captain as he studied her unflinching weathered face.

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  Dr. Macklow moved closer. She was a five inches taller than the Orca’s master. She put her hand on his shoulder. “Roger, my good man, we are both about to have the adventure of our lives.”

  He didn’t have time to respond. The seaman on forward watch sounded the ship’s Klaxon as a collision warning. The ocean was growing brighter dead ahead. Something was coming to the surface. Something very large. The Watership, having filled its ballast tanks with seawater and adjusted to Earth water temperature, atmosphere and gravity, was now ready to discharge its precious human cargo that had grown by three since departing from Antares two months ago.

  Now it was time for Operation Earthmother’s logistical plan to be executed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - LOGISTICS

  Ben Green left the Probeship and passed through the Watership membrane at a depth of three hundred feet under the sea. Ruth and Betty were waiting for him. They embraced. A moment later Mary entered the chamber and exchanged greetings with her fellow commanders. The Finley’s would remain with the Probeship, on site, until the cocoons were safely retrieved and transferred. Then Amos Bright would return with the Watership and storage tankers to Antares while the Finley’s took the Probeship to the port of Galveston, Texas. The Watership continued to rise toward the surface, guided by the Probeship toward the Navy and NOAA vessels.

  Jack Fischer and Phil Doyle were in radio contact with each other as the water brightened below them. They saw the USS Simi heading toward them off the starboard while the USS Metz, the escort destroyer, moved closer in off their port.

  “I hope those guys keep their distance,” Phil said nervously as the big ships bore down on the much smaller charter boats.

  “Walkly said the President’s on the missile cruiser. He’s gonna say hello to the folks before we shove off.”

  “Well, I hope he says it from a distance.” The two attack speedboats now appeared. One of them headed for the Simi while the other came up behind the Manta III. “I don’t think that’s in the cards, old buddy,” Jack told Doyle as he watched the activity on Walkly’s flagship.

  President Teller, Gideon Mersky, Margo McNeil, Alicia Sanchez, Phillip Margolin and Captain Walkly were about to disembark on a forty-five-foot ocean yacht that had been brought aboard the Simi and was now being lowered over the side to join. The speedboat reached the sleek guided-missile cruiser and stood off thirty yards. Benton Fuller and two other Secret Servicemen were already aboard the Navy speedboat. The ocean yacht, bearing the presidential seal and flying his flag, pulled away from the Simi and headed toward the Manta III. The sea was dead calm now. The pure yellow glow underwater had turned a bright orange-yellow. Obviously something was controlling the ocean surface.

  The Brigade men and women prepared to leave the Watership. Time was spent with farewells to the Antarean flight crew and the Parman guides. Beam and her medical team would be going to Houston. The chamber inside the membrane was a domed room bathed in a deep blue night light to prepare the humans for their first exposure to Earth in more than five years. The excited passengers gathered as the Watership continued its slow ascent to the surface. The three infants were brought forward. Ben and Mary asked to hold them and passed the feeling if the young lives along to the Finley’s.

  The babies would be taken aboard the speedboat lying to port of the Manta III where a pediatric team waited with incubators. Beam and her two assistants would join them. The infants would be completely examined by the time they reached Elliot Key.

  Phil Doyle saw the President first. “Hey, Jack,” he hailed over to his friend, whose boat was now within thirty yards. “Check it out. The man himself.”

  “I guess we’re A-list now,” Jack joked lightly, but he was nervous and proud to be a part of all this. The President waved a greeting to Jack and Phil. They saluted back.

  Matthew Cummings had trouble adjusting his binoculars. Betters was already absorbed as he watched the President greet their old adversary, Jack Fischer. Finally the senior detective, with some help from Gary McGill, focused in on the Manta III and the boats nearby.

  “I’ll be damned,” was about all he could say. Then he saw the lights from the Watership rising toward the surface. These were the same lights he had seen when the Brigade left Earth five years ago. He put down the binoculars and glared at McGill. “So you guys knew all along that what I said to the DA was true,” he said angrily. In the midst of the historic event unfolding before them, Cummings’s remark was didn’t register with McGill.

  “Say what?” The FBI agent put aside his own binoculars.

  “I told the DA five years ago that they had some kind of a rocketship. It was just like that one comin’ up out there… just like I told them. And they said I was nuts. They said that if I started talking about spaceships and like that . . . that they’d have me off the force and in the funny farm.”

  “I’m sorry about that, Detective Cummings. Back then, no one really did know.”

  “That Fischer guy and his buddies knew, and I told that DA they did and…”

  “Matt!” Coolridge Betters cut his partner off. “Take it easy,. So we were right and they were wrong and no one gives a good goddamn about it now. Our being here…it’s their way of saying sorry. Kinda like eatin’ crow. Can’t you see that?”

  “So?”

  “So that’s the payback, man. How many people you know are invited along with the President to meet some folks from outer space?”

  Cummings chuckled and lifted the binoculars to his eyes again. “Not too many, pal,” he said as he scanned the horizon, checking out the Metz, the Orca, and the Simi. Then he peered back at the President’s yacht, Manta III, Terra Time and the two speedboats. “Maybe two or three hundred from the looks of the welcoming committee out here tonight.”

  Malcolm Teller could only think of Herman Melville’s description in Moby Dick when the great white whale, having sounded, rose up from the depths, first just a tiny spot below growing larger and larger until he breached with all the power and majesty that that great leviathan possessed. He, too, peered into the ocean depths and watched the orange-yellow glow of the Watership grow ever larger beneath the ocean yacht. It was massive, covering the water beneath his boat, the two sp
eedboats and the two fishing boats nearby. As it neared the surface the brighter lights emanating from it began to dim and a deep blue oval opening in the circular nose of the Watership became clear.

  The Watership’s flat dull white hull, with storage tanker attached, stopped thirty feet beneath the surface. Manta III and Terra Time were directly above the ship’s membrane. The Probeship popped to the surface and came to rest between the two fishing boats. From beneath the Probeship, a laser-like ray of white light shot down to the membrane and split into hundreds of separate beams that encircled it. The beams then reflected back to the surface, forming a column of blue and white light. The water within the column drained and the membrane was exposed to the night air. Then as the membrane parted, the first passengers, led by Ben and Mary Green, ascended to the surface on a walkway that rose up out of the Watership’s hull. At the same time Beam and her two assistants brought the three human infants to the surface on another walkway.

  The President’s yacht edged close to Bedn’s walkway, as did the Manta III. Ben waved a big hello to Jack and then boarded the President’s yacht, which was now side by side with the Manta III. Mary followed. They both greeted the President and his party. Then one by one, led by Ruth Charnofsky, the commanders came aboard, were greeted by the President and then filed onto the Manta III. At the same time Beam and her party boarded the medical speedboat.

  Everyone aboard the vessels had been briefed on the mission that morning. No one, not even the most hardened Seals or the experienced Secretary of Defense, even Caleb Harris who had been aboard the Hapsas, was prepared for the sight that now appeared rising out of the membrane of the Watership as all the Brigade couples on board, people in their seventies and eighties, ascended ujp the walkways to the surface, holding hands. They waved a greeting to the people on the boats that surrounded them. Many of the women showed rotund bellies in which they carried and nurtured the first generation of Earth-humans conceived on other planets. Everyone cheered them and waved back. Even the sailors on the larger ships that stood off were heard cheering.