The Cocoon Trilogy

by David Saperstein

  “What the hell?” Dr. Fogelnest shouted. Ruth Charnofsky, who had felt the needle being withdrawn quickly, immediately went inside Dr. Yee’s mind and understood what he had done.

  “He was grabbing at the needle,” he snapped back. “I had no time. It just had to be done.” Dr. Fogelnest understood and apologized.

  “A male, Dr. Yee? He’s very fast, isn’t he?” Ruth asked.

  “And smart. He doesn’t want us poking into his comfortable home,” Yee answered as he motioned for Dr. Fogelnest to clean off Ruth’s stomach with alcohol and apply a sterile bandage. He glanced at the slightly blue fluid in the syringe.

  “When will you be able to tell me about the genetics?” Ruth asked. Dr. Yee hesitated, calculating how much time the geneticists would require and then how long it would take for Beam to assess her own input as well. The Antarean knew much about Subax. Her opinions would be invaluable, and she already knew much about human geneticists. Dr. Fogelnest finished and Ruth raised herself up from the table.

  “Give us a day or so. I’d say you have at least six weeks before you come to term.”

  “On Subax six weeks is only about three weeks Earth time,” Ruth told him as she stepped gingerly onto the floor. The tiny wounds made in her stomach wall and uterus were already healing. It was one of the benefits of being a processed commander. Her remark disturbed Dr. Yee, but he snowed no emotion.

  “Three weeks, six weeks. We have time. But he was concerned and Ruth knew it. There had been all manner of materials and cells never before seen by the geneticists in the first amniotic fluid sample. What was especially disturbing was the absence of antibodies and white blood cells normally present. “Just give us a little time. Beam is helping too. Everything will be just fine. Now you go back to that big blue husband of yours and have a rest.” A nurse helped Ruth into a wheelchair and took her back to their special Subax-Earth-human apartment.

  After two days of tests, the medical staff met and was confident they could perform their mission. Other than the unknowns that might present themselves in the mixed matings, everything else looked good. The three newborns were healthy and appeared normal. Their blood was exactly like their parents, like all the Brigade members - no indication of disease, perfectly formed red cells, maximum organ function and efficiency, a huge variety of antibodies and the ability to repair cell and tissue damage rapidly. The physical state of all their guests was excellent.

  What they didn’t know, and something that the commanders agreed to keep secret, was that the mental status of the newborns was far from normal. The Messina girl and the Erhardt twin boys born aboard the Watership were communicating, telepathing with each other in a language none of the commanders nor Beam and her assistants understood. And beyond communicating with each other, the commanders strongly suspected the infants were also in touch with the unborn fetuses as well.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT – TRANFER BEGINS

  Orca and the Seal team were stationed over the Stones. The Manta III with Jack, Phil Doyle and Madman Mazuski aboard was anchored fifty yards off the Orca’s stern. The Probeship with Amos and the Finley’s on board was on the bottom, just south of the first cocoon chamber. The ocean floor was ninety-seven feet at this point. It slowly fell off from here as you traveled north toward the submerged Watership and storage tank that lay on the bottom nearly four nautical miles from the Stones at a depth of six hundred feet near the Boynton Beach wreck.

  The plan was for the Seals, along with Amos and the Finley’s, to operate as two teams. Dr. Macklow, on board the Orca, would supervise their activity and monitor the seawater taken into the Watership and storage tank to be sure that it remained chemically consistent with the water around the Stones.

  The Manta III appeared to be a fishing vessel trolling for sailfish. Jack had the outriggers spread and four baited lines ready to go. The Seals, using scuba gear and supported by the Orca, would bring cocoons up to the Manta III, which would then transport them to the coordinates above the Watership. Four of the eleven Antareans remaining on the Watership would take the cocoons from the Manta III and bring them down to the waiting storage tank that now contained seawater.

  The other team, Amos and the Finley’s, would also remove cocoons and take them to the Probeship. They would then transport the cocoons underwater to the Watership and turn them over to the remainder of the Antarean crew working at the storage tank. Since the Antareans and the Finley’s did not require any breathing apparatus, they could operate at these depths and pressures.

  Between the two teams, it was estimated that fifty to sixty cocoons could be moved each day. At that rate Amos estimated the Watership would be loaded and ready to depart in nineteen days.

  Although they were well within the United States territorial waters, operating at night was deemed to be risky. There was Soviet and NATO submarine activity nearby. Ostensibly the foreign sub’s mission was to track the meteor, which NOAA announced it was trying to locate and bring to the surface. That explained the presence of the Orca. During the day, observation satellites had readings of a large metallic object off the Florida coast. This increased speculation that the meteor was large and intact. Further out in the Gulf Stream the USS Simi, the USS Hapsas and the USS Metz remained on station, keeping the area clear of nosy ships. Their presence was explained as drug traffic patrol and interdiction.

  On the first day of operation both teams were able to move and store only forty-one cocoons. It now looked like thirty days would be a more realistic departure date and Amos so informed his council back on Antares.

  Detectives Cummings and Betters, along with Special Agent McGill had the responsibility of keeping the operation secure when the Manta III, with the Probeship attached to its hull, was in port. It was also anticipated that the Orca would have to make at least two visits to Miami harbor for supplies. That security was also assigned to the two Coral Gables cops and their FBI cohort. After finally understanding what had happened five years ago, there was an unspoken, half-spoken, continuing conversation between Cummings and Betters, always ending short of answering the question that was never directly asked.

  “Those old folks sure looked good, didn’t they?” Betters would say.

  “Imagine, having kids at that age, huh?” Matthew Cummings had never married. Betters had no children. “Those guys with Fischer haven’t aged at all. I swear they even look younger.”

  “They seem happy too,” Cummings murmured. Betters silently nodded and wondered.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE – SPECIAL ORDERS

  Alicia and Phil shared his dark blue tile and glass stall shower for the third morning since they’d returned from Florida. He reached around her and rubbed her smooth firm stomach with a soapy pink washcloth as he held her close against his own body. She leaned back and let the warm water hit her face as it rested on his shoulder. The water ran down her neck and between her breasts as Margolin slid the washcloth up along her belly. Then dropping the washcloth, he caressed her with his soapy fingers. She felt him growing hard against her buttocks.

  “Again?” she whispered.

  “I’ll never have enough of you.”

  “That’s my boy!” She turned and faced him, and then, with her arms tight around his neck she pulled her self up and wrapped her legs round his soapy hips. He was a short man, but strong and took her weight easily. Twenty minutes, he figured. Then they would have to dress and head over to work. Of course, he then thought, there’s always tonight.

  Their meeting with the Defense Secretary was brief and to the point. Their entry plan worked. Kudos. The heat from the Soviets and the media had cooled. He now tasked them to develop a plan for the Watership’s departure. Casually, they suggested they would head up to Roscoe to work. Mersky rejected that idea.

  “I want you two down in Houston with the visitors.”

  “It’s sort of busy down there, isn’t it?” Margolin suggested, not easily giving up the thought of being alone with Alicia in the cabin and getting some serious
fly fishing in at the same time.

  “Dr. Khawaja will set you up in a quiet spaced on the first floor. I have my reasons.”

  “Reasons, sir?” Sanchez asked.

  “You two got along with that Finley guy, right?” They both nodded. “Okay. He’s what they call a commander. He’s operating with the Seal in Florida moving those cocoons. I want you two to get friendly with some of the other, uh, leaders…commanders.”

  Margolin was curious. “May I ask what you mean by friendly, sir?”

  “Get to know them. Work with them. Ask questions. See if you can find out what their plans are after all the babies are born.”

  “I thought they planned to leave after the babies were born.” Alicia said, surprised Mersky didn’t know that.

  “Well yes, they said that…but I have a feeling they might be convinced to stay, at least for a while. Just do your work and see how they feel about…you know…America, and maybe staying here. It can’t hurt. But don’t get too pushy. Okay?” They both nodded. “Good. One more thing. If you learn anything. . .about their plans, that is, don’t call me or fax or anything. I’ll have you flown up here once a week or so and we can talk then. Otherwise, keep that part of your mission within these four walls.”

  Sanchez and Margolin left the Pentagon wondering what their boss was up to. Well, they thought, that’s his problem, not ours. Orders are orders. They realized they’d be working alone together for the next month. They couldn’t wait to get back to Margolin’s apartment and celebrate their good fortune.

  Later that night, while the two lovers were asleep in each other’s arms, Gideon Mersky placed a call on his scrambler phone to Colonel James “Jimbo” Smith, commander of the 1159th Light Infantry Brigade, stationed at Fort Campbell, Kentucky.

  “How the hell are you, Jimbo?” the Secretary began, his voice jovial. He knew the colonel’s habits and would bet he had roused him from a warm, but not empty bed.

  “Mr. Secretary! Excellent, sir. How are you?”

  “Just fine, Jimbo, just fine. You keeping busy these days?” Mersky’s double entendre was not lost on Smith.

  “Always alert and ready to go. Got something for us?” The colonel’s voice was sharp and attentive. He lived for special, and preferably dangerous, missions.

  “You still keep that special company . . . what’d you call it?”

  “The Creamers, sir. The cream of my crop. Yes, sir. I’ve one hundred of the best trained, best equipped, travel light, ready for action troops the world has ever seen, or felt. Cocked, locked and ready to go.”

  “Well that’s good to hear, Jimbo. You do me a favor and keep that cream right on top for the next month or so.”

  “Consider it done, sir.”

  “Thank you, Colonel. Sorry to disturb you. Good night.”

  “No problem, Mr. Secretary. My pleasure. Thank you, sir. And good night.” The colonel had been seated on his king-sized waterbed. He hung up the telephone and looked over at the short blonde hair of the sleeping WAC Captain he’d invited to his quarters earlier that night. She was about to get awakened by an aroused American fighting man.

  Back at the Pentagon, Gideon Mersky also felt excitement course through his body, but it wasn’t sexual. It was the heady taste of power.

  CHAPTER THIRTY – WE CAN HEAR YOU

  Alicia and Phil were settled in on the first floor of the hospital; their equipment and computers hooked up and humming. The problem of getting the Watership off the planet with a minimum of detection was in the works. The size of the space vessel posed the greatest problem. Electronically its mass could be detected from anywhere on the planet. The data given to them by Amos Bright and the Watership flight crew suggested that it would take perhaps twenty to thirty seconds, once it surfaced, for the Watership to reach a speed where it would appear only as an anomaly on radar screens and satellite tracking systems. To launch it from American or even NATO territorial waters would alert the Soviets and Chinese.

  The two scientist’s quarters adjoined. They tended to gravitated to Alicia’s room each night. It became their love nest. That was how they came to be friendly with the commanders. It happened the fifth day they were in Houston, just a week before Marie Amato was due to be the first to give birth on Earth. Ben Green was working with the Alicia and Phil, trying to compute the overall mass of the Watership, once fully loaded with the storage tanker attached, in relation to the amount of seawater it displaced. They were approaching the conclusion that the Watership, once loaded, would have to be moved from its present location to a more remote launching area. The possibility of the mid-ocean rift that was volcanically active near Iceland was under study.

  Ben, who had made love with Mary earlier that morning, began to pick up on very strong feelings of love as he worked with Alicia and Phil. He misread the sensation as Mary calling to him. He telepathed to his wife, who told him she did love him, but hadn’t called to him. Ben then realized the emotions he’d felt were coming from Alicia and Phil. As a gesture of understanding he silently reached out to them and wished them well. Both the young scientists turned toward Ben at the same moment. Somehow they had heard him; somehow they understood what he had done. He tried to be nonchalant as they stared at him.

  “Yes?” he asked, “did you say something?”

  “Did you?” They said in unison, looking at Ben and then at each other. “I . . . we heard you say something . . . about us,” Phil Margolin continued.

  “About our being in love,” Alicia said softly. It was very strange because they both had agreed to keep their affair a secret, but now she was blurting it out to a relative stranger. But was he a stranger? That was the interesting part of it. Both Alicia and Phil were suddenly comfortable with Ben Green as though he was an old friend. Ben understood their thoughts and feelings. He made his second mistake by thinking that and not blocking his thoughts. They read him again.

  “You’re talking without talking,” Phil said incredulously.

  “You can hear me?” Ben asked aloud.

  “We can,” Alicia answered. “How?”

  “Telepathy,” Ben responded. “Humans are capable of it. All in Brigade have had the ability since processing. We . . . the commanders have it and other uh, shall I say, abilities.”

  “But we heard you, and you heard us.” Phil said.

  “Can you teach?” Alicia asked.

  “Yes. Jack Fischer was eventually able to learn to receive and send, but never consistently.”

  “Was that when the Antareans were first here?” Alicia asked.

  “Yes. Shall we try some more?” Both Phil and Alicia immediately agreed without speaking. For the rest of that morning they communicated without words. It was difficult for Alicia to do directly with Phil, but with Ben joining in, acting like a medium, they could read each other’s thoughts clearly.

  Later that day, Ben reported the event to the rest of the commanders. It was then that Alma Finley, who, at the time was under the sea in the first cocoon chamber, told them about Gideon Mersky’s ability to block and read them as well.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE – POLLUTION

  Dr. Macklow left the Orca and joined the Seal team at the Stones where the work was going well, but slowly. They were nearly finished emptying the first of the cocoon chambers. Two of the Antarean flight crew had also joined them. The Seals became fast friends with the Antareans. They dubbed them Ants, a nickname that spread to Houston as well.

  Amos was concerned about the time it was taking to move the cocoons. There were three chambers to go. This first had been the smallest, containing only 217 cocoons. He’d noticed that toward the end of their work in that chamber the cocoons left were not as viable as those taken earlier from the same chamber. He discussed this with Dr. Macklow, suspecting it had something to do with their exposure to the fresh ocean water. He was correct. There was an increase in the amount of caustic chemicals and sewage in the water. Amos had her come back to the Orca when she did more tests confirming the change.


  “In few days I have been gone, it has increased six percent,” she told the Antarean leader.

  “That is alarming. Five years ago we found the ocean contaminated. I fear the situation has gotten worse.”

  “I tested it when the storage tanker was filled and before any cocoons were moved. It has to be something being introduced within the past week.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Fairly certain,” the tall marine biologist responded, her steel-grey eyes revealing a mind actively at work. “I’d like to find the source of this pollution. It has to be local. Perhaps illegal sewage, or industrial waste. Maybe a passing.” She leaned over her charts and computer printouts.

  “There is a water planet near the star you call Pollux in the constellation Gemini. It’s known as Chexis Quad 3. On this planet there is a life form that must reproduce in the water - salty mineral water like your ocean. There is only a special time when they can breed, when the water is not poisoned. That is when the clean water flushes up from springs very deep in their seas. It rises up along fixed routes. These creatures, called Mellis, can follow the spring water just by tasting a few molecules. They can find it, they know when it is coming. They know where it is coming from.”