The Cocoon Trilogy

by David Saperstein

  Paige and Coolridge Betters were at the Manta III dock before dawn. Matt Cummings had brought a small suitcase. Amos told him to leave it behind.

  “You’ll have plenty of time to gather personal things before the Watership departs,” he told the aging cop. Then he welcomed Paige and suggested they board the Manta III. They found the Joe and Alma Finley, Phil Doyle and the old Greek, Nick Sorukas, on board having breakfast in the spacious cabin. Introductions were made. As they cast off, Nick smiled a toothless smile.

  “They say I will for to grow teeth again,” he told Paige. Then he laughed. “And maybe babies too. Many babies.” Could this really be happening? This is crazy, she thought. Alma Finley understood her panic. She telepathed comfort to the sixty-seven-year-old woman, a retired schoolteacher who was on her way to an unimaginable life. Then she spoke softly to her.

  “It’s a little disorienting, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know what’s happening. I listened to my husband all night. I had to come. I mean I wanted to come. But is this really true?”

  “Yes,” Alma assured her. “It is. The decision to ask you and the others came from Mr. Bright. He is the only one who can invite us, Earth-humans, to join the Antareans on their voyages.”

  “Well,” Paige Betters then said, taking a cup of coffee that Jack Fischer offered her, “I always believed that life didn’t end on this Earth of ours; that there had to be something beyond. I guess I’m about to find out that’s true.”

  “It is,” Alma said. “But you’ll see its not exactly what our religions taught us.”

  CHAPTER FORTY – THE FIRST DIFFERENT BABY

  Eighteen babies had been born. The first three who were born on the Watership were nearly two months old and showed remarkable progress. The pediatric nursing staff had grown because the mothers ceased nursing their infants. The babies were controlling their feeding and general care by communicating their needs telepathically. The parents knew why they had gone to bottle feeding. Two reasons caused the decision.

  First, it seemed a possibility that the parents would have to separate from their children at some point in the near future. Unless it was deemed safe for the babies to endure space travel with the Parman guides, which seemed highly unlikely, they would have to be sealed in life-support cocoons and de-metabolized until arrangements could be made for them on an Earth type planet. All were certain that their young bodies could not be processed with the Antarean equipment used on the Brigade five years ago since that processing only worked on human bodies that were well along in the Earth-human aging process.

  Second, because the Mothership was now on the way to Earth to pick them up, it was time for those who had families in the United States to visit them if they wished. Of the humans who’d returned to Earth, only thirty-one who had become parents had any family they knew how to reach. Of these, twenty-seven wanted to pay a visit. Dr. Khawaja mentioned this to the President, and he arranged for small jet aircraft, normally assigned to cabinet appointee, be used to transport those who wished to see their relatives.

  Before the twenty-seven Brigade parents departed, the commanders insisted that, for security purposes, nothing be said regarding babies or the hospital’s location. A deadline was set for the return of everyone to Houston six weeks hence. They were to check in by telephone weekly. And before they left, those Brigade parents once again listened to Mary Green recount what her visit to family. She counseled to be positive and resist giving too much detail about the other worlds they’d seen.

  “It will only cause them worry and runaway imaginations. Try to make it sound like a long vacation overseas. Use that analogy. And little white lies about harsh weather, poisonous atmospheres and hostile inhabitants are in order. Remember, especially with grandkids, their image of life on other planets is limited in great part to the horror and fantasy movies they see.”

  Ruth Charnofsky put it another way. “We know how much we have changed and how fortunate we are. They do not, and most likely will not, have that same opportunity. They do not understand death as we now do. They do not accept the gift of life that we have learned to cherish. Be kind and loving, as we all have become, but do not let them peer too deeply into your heart and mind. And, of course, likewise respect theirs as well and refrain from reading their thoughts.”

  Three days after the twentieth human baby was born, Tern, the female Penditan from Turmoline felt the onset of birth and left her husband, Peter Martindale, sleeping in their bed. Their specially prepared living quarters were kept at a temperature of ninety degrees Fahrenheit with a humidity level close to eighty-five percent. The air was oxygen rich and filtered. All this approximated the jungle conditions where Tern’s tribe lived and hunted.

  Tern had prepared a corner of their living room for the occasion. She rolled back the carpet. She picked fresh leaves from the lush house plants provided in the habitat and gathered them in the corner, placing them on the floor to form a nest. She then removed her human clothing. Naked, she squatted over her nest and began to bear down, helping her baby into the world. It took thirty minutes. The boy dropped onto the leaves without a whimper. Tern gathered him up and blew into his tiny mouth. He began to breathe. Then she cleaned his body. His skin and hair was lighter than a Penditan baby. His milky eyes looked as though they might be blue someday, like his father’s. Tern was pleased that the child was a male and that it resembled the other human babies she’d seen in the nursery. She bit the umbilical cord and ritually tied a knot through which she placed a curved bone amulet with Penditan markings along one side and the symbol of their deity, three circles in a line. The one in the middle was black. Standing, she placed the infant at her full breast and it began to suckle. Her milk flowed easily. She walked proudly back to the bed and got back into it, still holding the nursing baby. Later that morning when Peter Martindale awoke, he rolled over to say good morning to his wife and discovered he was a father.

  It took some time for the doctors to convince Tern to let them examine the baby. Martindale’s coaxing finally prevailed, but she insisted on staying with the infant in her sight at all times. The baby was healthy and vital. He was larger and heavier than the Earth-human babies. He did not cry as long as he felt his mother’s presence. When the medical team moved him to the transitional nursery, he became agitated. There were four new Earth-human babies in there at the time. Tern heard her baby cry and rushed to take him from the nursery. As soon as she had him out of the room the crying stopped. The doctors tried to have her return the infant to the nursery but the same reaction occurred.

  While this was happening, Alicia Sanchez was working on the final details of the Watership’s departure. Two floors below the nursery, she suddenly felt uncomfortable and agitated. She heard the voices of babies in her mind. One of them was frightened, calling out for help. Then the cry was gone. Then it came back, this time stronger. She left her work and was guided up to the third floor where she saw Tern, Peter Martindale and their new baby. Alicia then knew why she had been called.

  “He has to stay with you for a while,” she told the parents. The doctors were annoyed, but knew that Dr. Sanchez was on the President’s personal staff and had seniority in Operation Earthmother. “He is not yet in tune with the other children,” she explained quietly. A moment later, Rose Lewis arrived. She had also been called by the new baby’s cries. She understood his discomfort and suggested that Martindale take Tern and the newborn back to their quarters.

  “He needs the warmth and humidity. He needs his mother’s smell and touch. He wants her breast. Go now,” she commanded gently, “I’ll speak to the doctors.” She then turned to Alicia. “Did you hear the child?”

  “Yes. He was afraid.”

  “He will learn to communicate with them. The fact that he can hear them is good.”

  “I wish we could tell them why he is different, and that there will soon be others soon that will also be different.”

  “Maybe if we allow them some time to absorb those d
ifferences they will learn and teach,” Rose suggested. The idea of newborn infants being able to construct heir own complex social structure telepathically was too much for Dr. Sanchez to fathom. But there was enough conviction in Rose Lewis’s voice for the scientist in Alicia to respect her theory. Rose was the one commander who seemed to have a special way with the babies and they responded to her presence.

  Back in their quarters Tern and Peter Martindale comforted their new son. The infant was content to nurse and sleep in his mother’s embrace. Once in a while he would awaken, as though called by a voice. He concentrated, his tiny brow frowned once or twice, and then he would go back to sleep. Rose Lewis knew that the other babies had understood the new baby was different. They were trying to communicate, but this time they called to him in their special language, one at a time and softly.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE – IN THE COLONEL’S MIND

  The morning of the Martindale birth, Brigade Commander Bernie Lewis had boarded an early flight from Houston to Nashville. From there he rented a car and drove northwest across the Kentucky border to the Fort Campbell Military Reservation. Bernie was a World War II veteran. He entered Buchenwald, the Nazi concentration camp, near Weimar, Germany on April 11, 1945. A month earlier, his kid brother Marty, a Marine, had been killed on Iwo Jima. He was a much decorated soldier and active in the Jewish War Veterans Association. It was easy for Bernie to get onto the post. He showed his veteran’s ID and said he was looking for the son of an old buddy who he’d served with in Europe.

  “Smith,” he told the MP at the gate. “He’s a bird colonel, I think.”

  “With the 101st?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” Bernie put on a forgetful old man act. “Infantry. I think it’s that new infantry with the letters...R something.”

  “RDF?”

  “Yeah. That’s it.” The MP checked his officer roster on the computer screen in the guard post. He found it in a minute. “You’ll want the 1159th Light Infantry. That’s in a restricted zone so you’ll have to go to base headquarters and call him from there.” The young Airborne MP politely gave Bernie directions. As Bernie drove away he thanked the soldier. The young man snapped to attention and saluted. “My pleasure, sir. Welcome to Fort Campbell.”

  The commanders had discussed the propriety of Bernie’s visit to the Army base. After Phillip Margolin revealed Gideon Mersky’s plan to put the Brigade under the military “protection” of Colonel “Jimmy” Smith’s elite company, Bernie and Ben wanted to know firsthand what they might be up against. The last thing they wanted to do was get into a power struggle with innocent soldiers, not to mention the possibility of hostility around their newborn babies.

  “Having a look wouldn’t hurt,” Ben had argued.

  “I’m a veteran. An old man. I’m just visiting to say hello. These soldiers love to put out for old guys like me . . . to show that they are as tough and ready as we were way back then.” Bernie was persuasive.

  Head Commander Ruth Charnofsky finally agreed, but warned him. “No interfering, Bernard. Stay out of that colonel’s mind.”

  A man can have a head without a mind, Bernie thought to himself as he waited in the post headquarters dayroom remembering Ruth’s warning. The OD, officer of the day, was a portly major whose uncle had served in Europe at the same time Bernie was there. Bernie told the major he wanted to surprise “Jimmy,” so the message only requested that Colonel Smith come as soon as possible. He arrived twenty minutes later in combat dress, having been in the field preparing a night exercise with the firing range officer. The major brought Colonel Smith into the empty dayroom. As he came through the doors Bernie jumped into his mind with the impression that his was a familiar face.

  “Mr. Lewis,” Colonel Smith said, beaming as he approached Bernie. “What a surprise.” He extended his hand. The major stood nearby smiling.

  “Jimmy,” Bernie began, “I’m sorry to bother. I was going to be nearby and I promised your dad I’d stop in. He says to give you a hug.” Bernie opened his arms and embraced the colonel. As he did, he was back into the officer’s mind, exploring his subconscious. Colonel Smith’s father was retired in Arizona. His mother was dead. Bernie peeled some more layers and found the secret place where Gideon Mersky’s mission against the Brigade was stored. He absorbed it in an instant and stored it away to be examined later. While he did that, which took a matter of seconds, he blocked the other commanders. Aunt Ruth would have cause to be very annoyed until he could tell her what Gideon Mersky was planning to do. Bernie spent the next hour passing the time pleasantly with Colonel Smith. They discussed his father at great length and the days they’d spent together in the “big war.” After Bernie left Fort Campbell and was on his way back to Houston, the autosuggestion he’d left with Colonel Smith occurred. At the start of the night firing exercise for an inexplicable reason, just as Colonel Smith began briefing his staff, he urinated in his pants, wetting his camouflage fatigues and steel-plated, spit-polished, paratrooper jump boots.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO – THE RELUCTANT INFANT

  Three days later the third underwater cocoon chamber near The Stones was empty and the teams began work on the fourth and final chamber. Amos estimated that if the weather held they would be ready to leave Earth in two weeks at the most, maybe less if Cummings, Mr. and Mrs. Betters and Gabe were able to help with the loading. Their processing was nearly complete.

  Ellie-Mae Boyd, the African-American nurse and close friend of Commander Betty Franklin, went into labor five days after Tern gave birth. Her case was quite different. Her mate, Dr. Manterid, the chemist from Betch, could not help her. He had to remain in his controlled environment - a nitrogen-rich atmosphere, high humidity and moderate temperature. Ellie-Mae was familiar with the signs of labor. She’d given birth to six children in her Earth-life in North Carolina. But these pains were much more acute. At first, she and the attending doctors joked nervously, citing that a woman of her age should expect a little reminder that some time had passed since her last pregnancy. Beam did not see the humor. She was concerned. This baby was not coming as easily as any of the others.

  After two hours of labor, they all agreed something was very wrong. Her cervix had dilated, her contractions were normal and strong, her muscle tone perfect. They decided to try a mild drug to stimulate more contraction. That only caused more pain. The medical team was anxious. Beam tried to telepath and relax Ellie-Mae. But something, or more to the point someone, was interfering. The two other Antareans present confirmed that the birth procedures of the Hillet, Dr. Manterid’s race on Betch. It was very similar to Earth-human birthing. There was no answer there.

  Another hour passed. The doctors began to discuss doing a cesarean section. Dr. Manterid was given a breathing source, rich in nitrogen, so he could be with his wife. He was deeply concerned. His anxiety and Beam’s worry forced the medical decision. They prepped Ellie-Mae for surgery.

  The cesarean section took only a half hour. The baby, a female, looking very much like a Hillet, only with darker pigmentation, was removed from her mother’s womb. During the surgery it was noted that the placenta had an unusual growth on it. It resembled a small starfish and was attached to the umbilical cord where it joined the placenta.

  After the cord was cut, the baby was rushed to the pediatric intensive care facility that adjoined the operating room. It was kicking and screaming. It was immediately apparent that the baby was in trouble. She began to gasp and turn crimson. Beam, satisfied that Ellie-Mae was recovering, went to the intensive care nursery where there was a crisis atmosphere surrounding the newborn. Then an idea rushed into her mind. Beam ran back into the recovery room where Dr. Manterid sat with his wife. She took his breathing apparatus from him and ordered, ““Get Dr. Manterid back to his chamber!” Them she rushed back to the baby and exposed it to the nitrogen-rich mixture. The infant responded immediately by reaching for the breathing mask to pull it down to her face. “How did we miss that? Let’s get this little girl down to her
father’s room.” Later they learned that the babies in the nursery on the second floor had been agitated throughout Ellie-Mae’s labor. They calmed down only after the baby girl was safely in her father’s native atmospheric conditions.

  The medical team was exhausted and embarrassed. This became more acute when Beam reasoned that the baby didn’t want to be born. The prolonged labor was caused by the little girl refusing to leave the safety of her mother and enter an atmosphere that it knew was not breathable. The small starfish-shaped organ that had been attached to the umbilical cord proved to be an oxygen to nitrogen converter that Ellie-Mae’s stem cells created.

  It was, Beam remarked, a giant genetic leap forward. “It is long known that humanoid species interrelate and interbreed. But this mating was radical. Yet the Earth- human body adjusted and adapted. The infant survived and flourished in the womb, and then amazingly, she had the good sense to resist entering a lethal atmosphere.”

  “She was trying to tell us, and we were not able to understand,” Beam said.

  “But somehow you did,” Dr. Fogelnest remarked wistfully, feeling inadequate at the moment.

  “I was moved to do it,” Beam suddenly recalled. “I believe it was those infants in the nursery below. I think they were warning the baby and then, when we took her out, began to warn me.” Beam reflected silently for a long moment. “What are these children?” she finally asked herself.