by Debbie Kump
We’re not back yet, Steve thought. His arms wound tightly across Ellen’s back, his fingers sliding through her silky blonde hair as he kissed her harder yet. Besides, why should he sacrifice what he already has without knowing whether Alyssa would even take him back?
Chapter Nine
Southern Florida State University off-campus housing
The door opened. Kristen Weber looked up from her spot on the couch and watched her younger brother enter the house. He never knocked.
“Sick again?” Erik asked, looking unusually piqued himself.
Kristen froze, not realizing he’d noticed her condition these past few days. Could he possibly suspect anything? Nah. She’d only figured it out; plus nothing was certain yet. She could just be late. For the first time ever. Trouble was, she had difficulty convincing even herself.
“Don’t you think you should get checked out at the clinic?” Erik asked, tossing his backpack onto the floor. He plopped down next to her on the couch. “It could be one of those new flu strains.”
Kristen shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”
He eyed her skeptically.
Erik seemed unusually perceptive today. Ever since he’d met Rachael, he’d been so infatuated with his girlfriend that he hardly noticed Kristen. But today he seemed sullen. “Something wrong?” she wondered.
Erik shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest as he slouched further into the couch. His long blonde bangs fell limp across his face.
Fine, don’t answer. She had loads on her own mind that she wasn’t exactly ready to share with him, either.
But after a few minutes of awkward silence, Erik lifted his head to ask, “Heard from Dane lately?”
Thanks for rubbing it in, Kristen thought. “Not so much. But he’s probably super busy right now anyway.”
Why did she feel compelled to make excuses for him? To hide the fact their relationship had turned rocky? “How’s Rachael doing?” she added, bracing herself for Erik’s blissful reply. Sometimes it was enough to make her sick.
Instead, Erik blurted the whole story of how he’d discovered Rachael with another guy.
“Oh, Erik!” Kristen wrapped her arm tenderly around his shoulder, pulling him toward her for comfort like she did when they were kids. “Are you sure?”
Erik nodded, brushing his bangs from his face. Kristen thought she caught him sniffle once. Something he’d never do in front of the guys. Things were different when it was your sister.
She placed one hand over his. “I’m so sorry. Love sucks, doesn’t it.”
“You said it,” Erik agreed. Then his gray eyes turned distant. They quickly scanned from left to right, reading a text on his eye DOTS, no doubt. His expression turned sour.
“Was that her?” Kristen dared to ask.
Erik’s face fell into his hands. “Can you believe it? She still wants me to meet her for lunch!”
“She didn’t see you, I take it.”
Without looking at her, Erik shook his head. Kristen patted his back, unable to think of anything to say.
Leaning back against the couch, she sighed deeply, wishing Dane would send her a text. Just a single word to acknowledge her existence. But the only thing moving on her eye DOTS’ virtual screen was the clock blinking 10:30 A.M.
10:30 A.M.?
Kristen shot off the couch. “Why aren’t you in class?” she said in a condescending tone.
“Easy, Mom,” Erik snipped. “I should be asking you the same question. Didn’t you know? Greene cancelled lecture today.”
“Oh. Right.” Kristen sat back down, and directed her attention to her email icon. Then she rifled through her list of emails to find a message from Simon Greene. Why hadn’t he asked her to cover for him? Didn’t he trust her enough to teach a bunch of undergrads?
Finally, Kristen found the email she’d been looking for. It was brief to the point of curtness. Just like Simon. Kristen read, SITUATION IN BAHAMAS. BE BACK TOMORROW.
Talk about being vague. Of course he’d be back tomorrow. Simon would never dream of missing the unveiling of 7G.
“News to you?” Erik asked, one eyebrow perched high on his forehead.
Kristen shrugged. “I’ve had a lot on my mind today,” she admitted.
“Really? Like what?”
Kristen was beginning to think she liked her brother better when he was self-absorbed. “Um…I dunno,” she sighed again. “Just thinking of taking next semester off. Maybe.”
Erik’s jaw dropped. Rightfully so. She’d worked so hard to get accepted into this program. Not to mention she’d dreamed of becoming a marine biologist for as long as she could remember.
“Is Greene working you too much?” he asked.
“Yeah. Something like that.” She was never particularly good at lying to her brother. But it wasn’t like she was really lying. Just…withholding information for the time being. She had to tell Dane first.
Change that. First, she had to know for sure.
“O-kay.” Judging by his tone, he obviously didn’t believe her. “Hey, mind if I hang out here for a while?”
“Suit yourself,” she said. “But I’ve got some things to do.” Kristen hopped off the couch and grabbed her keys and wallet. She gave her brother one final wave as she headed out the door. Keeping this a secret was already proving much harder than she’d imagined.
Chapter Ten
BahamasAir Flight 223 departing Miami
Simon Greene boarded the plane in Miami with mixed feelings. Canceling a lecture was one thing. But he really shouldn’t be leaving his research. Not now when he was on the verge of a major discovery.
Still…that many whales. This incident in the Bahamas could be another opportunity that earned him name recognition. And name recognition–especially on the eve of his scientific breakthrough–was always good.
Life sure hadn’t turned out as Simon had originally planned, however. He attended Dartmouth University for his undergraduate degree with the intent to pursue pediatrics like his father. But after spending a summer taking a marine biology course at University of New Hampshire and Cornell University’s jointly owned Shoals Marine Laboratory on Appledore Island off the coast of Maine, he dropped out of Dartmouth’s ultra-competitive pre-med program.
Somewhere in the middle of a high-speed pursuit of fin whales–while most of his classmates hurled over the side of the whale watching boat as it tossed upon the churning waters of the Gulf of Maine–Simon had a change of heart. He pitied these majestic creatures, their immense tail flukes propelling them forward at top speed to escape the chasing boat. In their wake he observed only a trail of silky footprints: flattened patches of smooth water upon the ocean’s surface from each thrust of their powerful flukes. Unable to catch these swift giants that were second only in size to the blue whale, the captain contacted other whale watching boats in the area, hoping someone had a lead on another pod of whales.
Eventually the captain’s luck changed. The marine naturalist onboard sighted a pair of humpbacks a few hundred yards off the port side. Simon rushed to the railing, his heart skipping a beat as he spotted an adult humpback surfacing. Its characteristic puff of mist hung suspended like a bifurcated cloud above the darkened sea. The humpback’s white pectoral fins–the longest of any whale–appeared as pale green, fifteen-foot patches, easily identifiable below the surface of the water. Soon the captain radioed in two more vessels that encircled the whales, confining them for better viewing opportunities. Each boat cut its engines to avoid scaring the mother and calf, while floating upon the waves to form a corral.
Simon dashed down to the lowest deck, leaning as far over the edge as possible to get a better glimpse of these majestic creatures. At that moment, the mother rolled onto one side, her enormous eye–the size of a large orange–catching his gaze. Simon froze, enraptured by the intelligence he saw within. A wave of compassion engulfed him, saddened by the whale’s sudden loss of freedom, trapped as an object of entertainment for New England’s
summer tourists.
Clutching the handrail, he stared back, trying to imagine what other thoughts consumed this creature’s mind. Did he detect fear inside her eyes? Fear for her personal safety or that of her calf? Did she know that some countries violated the International Whaling Commission’s moratorium on commercial whaling and still illegally hunted their kind?
Or was it hope? Was she aware that the humpbacks’ population had teetered on the brink of extinction, but slowly, amazingly, was coming back?
Or was it simple curiosity? Could it be that these humpbacks desired to understand more about us humans on the surface, the beings who pestered these placid mammals from the protection of our noisy vessels?
Before Simon had a chance to decide which thought weighed most heavily on the whale’s conscious, the creature rotated back onto its belly, gave a few thrusts of its powerful tail flukes, and dove deep below the group of three ships bobbing on the surface like bath toys in an enormous tub. Soon after, the calf followed its mother, arcing its back as it dove. Just before disappearing into the depths of the sea, it raised its tail, exposing the fingerprint-like black and white markings on the underside of its flukes. Cameras rapidly clicked around Simon, capturing the last view of the sinking humpback. Then the captains started up their engines once more, setting off to search for a new pod of whales.
After they returned to the dock, Simon hiked up the steep slope of Appledore Island, his legs wobbly from spending hours shifting his weight to compensate for the pitch and yaw of the rolling sea. Just before reaching his temporary dormitory at the summit of the island, he turned. Gazing past the squawking gulls feeding their chicks, Simon looked out at the vast expanse of ocean stretching to the horizon. Inspired.
As he lay upon his cot that evening, listening to the distant sound of the crashing surf upon the rocky shore, he contemplated his future. Early the next morning, when the herring gulls squawked incessantly with the approaching dawn, Simon woke feeling energized and focused. He no longer pictured himself attending to coughing, snotty-nosed kids and their overanxious mothers. Instead, he envisioned himself spending the majority of his time out at sea, intending to gain a better understanding of these mysterious marine creatures. Although his original fascination lay with the enormous baleen whales, Simon soon became most intrigued with toothed whales: everything from communicating with other members of their pod to producing blasts of sound powerful enough to stun prey.
After Dartmouth, Simon Greene traveled to the Pacific Northwest to explore the dialects of the transient and resident pods of orcas dwelling along the east side of Vancouver Island for his graduate research and dissertation at the University of Washington. Then he moved to the Big Island of Hawaii for his post doc at the University of Hawaii-Hilo where he studied the spinner dolphins and pilot whales off the Kona coast. He’d spent the past two years as an associate professor at the Southern Florida State University investigating bottlenose dolphin communication and echolocation. He expected his current research project to generate the largest advances, however. And hopefully secure him a position as a tenured professor.
Using the optical and audio recording opportunities provided within the new telecommunications conversion to 7G, Simon hoped to bridge the gap between humans and whales. By adapting a set of eye DOTS to fit Allie, a 14-year-old bottlenose dolphin housed at the Miami Aquarium, Simon believed he would finally enable people–both researchers and civilians alike–to experience the underwater world as whales do…through sound.
Simon also hoped his research would aid the International Whaling Commission in retaining its ban against commercial fleets, despite mounting pressure from Japan, Iceland, and Norway to allow whaling practices to resume. These countries claimed that whale populations have increased sufficiently to allow annual harvesting. It wasn’t like the ban prevented this. Illegal slaughters occurred anyway, regardless of the law. Plus hunting for “scientific purposes” was permitted–though whale meat could often be found in Japanese and Norwegian public marketplaces.
He knew his scientific data would protect these creatures–once whalers, scientists, and the general public better understood the actual intelligence of these social animals. Though his research would commence with eye and ear DOTS on bottlenose dolphins to enrich our comprehension of echolocation, the applications were vast. Simon imagined whale researchers all over the world making tremendous gains. In the Hawaiian Islands, scientists could finally unravel the mystery of humpback whale song. In the Pacific Northwest, they could decode orca dialects from resident and transient pods. In Patagonia, they could protect the severely threatened right whale populations. And along the coast of New Zealand, they could explore the deep-sea battles between the sperm whale and its favorite prey, the giant squid.
Of course, none of this would happen if he didn’t get back to Miami before the National Conversion. He’d lose out on name recognition, funding, even his tenure track if someone else beat him to the discovery. And in the scientific world, you didn’t dare finish second.
Chapter Eleven
The plane touched down at the quaint terminal on Nassau. Simon slung his backpack over one shoulder and squinted into the bright sun as he walked across the hot tarmac. He expected to find Roy Jackson at baggage claim like usual. Instead, Roy stepped out from under the shaded awning, meeting him with long strides across the blazing asphalt. Must be pretty urgent, Simon thought. Why else would the Transportation Security Administration give Roy clearance past the airport’s X-ray screening stations?
Roy extended his hand to shake Simon’s firmly. “Glad you could make it. The situation’s gotten worse.”
Simon raised his eyebrows. “How so?” He’d already mentioned the multiple strandings. How much worse could it possibly get?
Roy shot a worried glance at the tourists filing off the plane. “I’ll explain in the car.” He turned full circle and marched inside the terminal.
Roy Jackson had really changed since college. Even since the last time Simon had been out here a few months back. As always, Roy dressed in a white, long sleeved button down shirt and navy pants, though he never seemed to mind the heat. A patch of the seal of the Islands surrounded by a marlin and a pink flamingo adorned his right breast pocket. But this time Roy’s face looked weary and gaunt; his normal jovial smile smothered by responsibility. His black curly hair cropped ultra-short was flecked with gray from mounting stress. Trouble at home? Simon wondered. Roy’s shoulders slumped as he led Simon through the airport terminal.
Simon jammed his other arm through his backpack strap, barely able to keep Roy’s pace as they sped down the florid carpeting. Past arrangements of bright orange and blue birds of paradise and scarlet anthuria in large vases. Past the quiet, deeply tanned tourists waiting to board their planes. Past the twitching eyes of those passengers using the current 6G Network technology to surf the Internet, send a text, or read an ebook while they waited. And past the mute kids who stared into space, engaged with a movie their parents had selected to guarantee acceptable behavior. Heck, parents even slapped pairs of ear DOTS on their infants. Piggybacking off their parents’ mobile uplinks, babies napped to the melodies of Beethoven and Mozart.
Just wait until 7G came. They’d have so many more options. Instantaneous optical and audio recording. Dream uploads. And interspecies communication in the underwater world…provided he got back in time.
Preoccupied with the presumed benefits and applications of the new technology, Simon hadn’t seemed to notice that not only had the DOTS taken on a babysitting role; they’d effectively eliminated personal conversation and interaction.
But before he had a chance to contemplate this issue further, he and Roy passed baggage claim and headed outside. A government-issued old Chevy sedan waited in the NO PARKING zone. Roy tipped the airport security personnel and unlocked the doors, tossing Simon’s backpack into the trunk. A car like this would’ve been trashed a decade ago in the States for not complying with the Clean Air Bill, but out
here, regulations were rarely enforced. How could they when there was no money to enforce them?
Simon closed his door and rolled down his window to dilute the smell of stale cigarette smoke. “You were saying?”
Roy turned the key in the ignition and shifted out of park. As he merged with traffic exiting the airport, he began, “The mother beaked whale didn’t make it. Our local vets conducted a necropsy before her carcass rotted in the sun.”
“And?”
“We’re still waiting on pathology. But the overall inspection revealed nothing unusual. Except for hemorrhaging near her ears and melon.”
Simon knew that in order to echolocate, toothed whales pushed air back and forth through an intricate series of sacs connected to their blowholes. Generating high frequency sounds similar to sonar, toothed whales project these sound waves out through an organ of fatty tissue called the melon located inside the forehead. The waves bounce off nearby objects and return as vibrations received by the whale’s lower jaw. In turn, the vibrations are transmitted to the inner ear at the base of the jaw, then on to the brain for processing. Echolocation is vitally important amongst toothed whales and dolphins for communication between individual members of a pod, location of prey, and navigation in their underwater world.
Roy’s news didn’t sound good, but at least it confirmed Simon’s suspicions. “So where is she now?” Simon asked.
“They dumped the body.”
Simon frowned. Little was known about the rare, deep-diving beaked whales. He wished they hadn’t towed the mother out to sea; he would’ve liked to save the skeleton. But Roy was more concerned with upholding the image of the Islands than in conducting scientific research. And, of course, figuring out who is to blame. That’s why he called in Simon.
“And the calf?”
“At a holding tank at the Atlantis Hotel. It’s in fair condition and under continuous observation. We’re hoping to release it in a few months,” Roy said optimistically.
