Druid's Descendants (Druid's Path Book 4)
Page 1
Contents
Title
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Druid’s Descendants
Written and Published by Mark Philipson
Copyright 2018
License Notes
Non-Digital Rights Management publication.
1
CAPTAIN KENSHIN KAMURA, alone in the conning tower of the Gato Kujira Maru, noticed a flashing icon in the upper right corner of the control display. It flashed an urgent message:
FUEL REQUIRED.
A section of the glass wall behind the pilot seat rotated. When the partition halted, a topographical view of the ocean floor, converted from sound waves, appeared on the screen. Signals from the ship’s sonar reflected off the bottom, returning as overlays mapped to the contours of a wide trench cutting through mountain ranges rising up to 29,000 kilometers. The highest peaks terminated less than two thousand meters from the surface.
The captain switched the sonar display to visual. Seconds later, the ship dove toward a tiny beacon flashing from the depths of a deep trench.
Kenshin cleared his mind, blinked both eyes once, and thought: Circular view
Milliseconds after finishing the thought, the views on the main display in the conning tower changed: the primary display remained locked in forward-looking status and showed everything directly ahead of the bow. Secondary displays, based on a 360° field of view in all directions, populated the spherical tower. Captain Kamura looked at a red dot on the bottom right corner of the primary optical display. The red dot shot a beam of light through his pupil and into his retina. Reflections of the secondary display stored in the red light traveled up the captain’s optic nerve, entering a microscopic fragment of polished crystal embedded in his brain.
The crystal — a variation of the power stone mineral discovered by the Tulanos, the ancestors of the present-day citizens of the world — arranged the images into logical patterns Kenshin invoked by slight head movements.
Locked into circular view mode, Captain Kamura could see what was above the ship, around it, and below it by glancing in the desired direction. To see what was behind the ship, all the captain needed to do was tilt his head slightly in an up and down manner.
A quick downward glance invoked the top-down view. The captain saw the flukes of a massive tail as it plunged into the icy water. A quick scan of the starboard and port sides showed the body of the whale watership diving: the great head speeding to the depths with the tail undulating behind it.
After completing the visual environmental check, Kenshin looked away from the red dot. He concentrated on the primary display. From the floor of the submerged trench, the beacon continued to flash.
FUEL SOURCE LOCATED.
Captain Kamura sat back, under refueling conditions he released all controls of the ship-whale, the only thing he could do was monitor the environmental settings and hold on. The words of his water-flight instructor echoed in his mind every time he refueled: Prepare for the worst and hope for the best.
The captain watched as the rate of descent increased. Thousands of metric tons driving itself in a 90° nose-dive to the bottom of one of the deepest areas of the Ocean. He adjusted the internal pressure, matching the external pressure as it built on the outer hide of the ship-whale.
The flashing beacon took on a vague shape of a star as the dive continued. Kenshin monitored the oxygen production module. It remained in the normal range as the ship-whale adjusted its trajectory to line up with the beacon.
The beacon took on form: tentacles evolved out of a cylindrical head. Dimension displays put the creature's length over 30 meters and weight over four tons. When the giant squid felt the initial changes in water density caused by the approaching ship-whale, it propelled itself backward.
Gato Kujira dove straight down and then leveled off near the bottom of the trench. It glided over boulders and down into craters, hugging the bottom as it made its way toward its prey. The huge tentacles of the fleeing squid filled the display as the ship-whale closed in. Switching to top-down view, Captain Kamura watched the squid strike the wall rising from the trench. It struggled to work the back of its head into a crevice. The Gato Kujira opened wide jaws and sunk long teeth into a grouping of flailing tentacles not inside the opening.
The ship-whale continued to bite, fluke thrusts forcing it into reverse. It thrashed its head as it pulled the squid out of the hole.
The captain of the watership watched external pressure increasing as suckers raked the outer skin. The Gato Kujira twisted its body. The two animals rolled, locked in a deadly embrace. Kenshin set his forearms on the arms of the pilot’s chair. Strong magnets set into the arms clung to metal fibers woven into the sleeves of Kenshin’s suit. The captain wondered how long this would go on as the conning tower spun end over end.
It could be take hours, or, it could be over in minutes. Nine times out of ten, the whale emerged victorious in these battles. Gato Kujira had the longs scars of many kills on its body to prove it. If the squid was able too get under the whale’s defenses it could use its razor-sharp beak to penetrate into the brain or heart of the attacking whale.
The struggle ended quickly, Gato Kujira buried its needle-like teeth into the squid’s head. Clouds of dark ink filled the water as the squid died.
Gato Kujira ascended, eating the squid at the same time. With the last piece of squid consumed, the fuel indicator read:
FUEL LEVEL - MAXIMUM.
On the surface, the Captain Kamura looked at an icon on the display. He blinked twice, entering the navigation system. The holographic image of a globe appeared, a thick layer of silver clouds reflecting light high into the upper atmosphere.
The captain of the ship-whale turned his head, the globe tilted on its axis. Clouds faded, revealing a beacon located on the equator. It transmitted a continuous signal, spanning the globe one time every second. Kenshin locked into the homing beacon, the great tower at the city of Hirokawa had begun emitting a thousand years ago. Gato Kujira heard the pulsating sounds. It turned and followed the frequency south.
2
AFTER THREE DAYS, the signal beacon reverberated through the chamber in Gato Kujira’s head. Layers of ambergris dampened the noise as the ship-whale neared the lower end of the Northern Hemisphere.
The Harbor Master’s face appeared on the display in the conning tower. “We have you locked in, Captain Kamura.”
“Very well,” the captain of the Gato answered. The arbor master took steerage away from the ship and handed it off to a remote pilot. It occurred to Kenshin there was nothing left to do but enjoy the escort into port.
Captain Kamura glanced at a red dot, paying close attention to the environmental settings within a two kilometer radius of the ship.
Minutes later, a sonar signal came across the screen. The visual showed the footprint to be a Great Hammerhead. With a blink the captain of
the ship-whale switched to a holographic projection. The image of the shark hung in the tower. Kenshin scanned the fish’s specifications. Length: 35 meters. Weight: 3,800 metric tons. The head measured 18 meters from eyeball to eyeball. Seven rows of teeth averaging half a meter in length packed a mouth out of proportion to the slender head.
Sharks held a place at the top of food chain in the wild ocean. One was bearing down on the Gato Kujira right now.
Captain Kamura needed to get the ship-whale back to port. Adjustments to his embedded crystal only lasted ten days and he as returning one day ahead of schedule. At that moment the captain took action: “I need air support.”
“Affirmative, standby,” the harbor master acknowledged.
Kenshin replied, “Understood.” He set an emergency dive status on the display.
The harbor master glanced at the display and sent a message to a surface ship patrolling the outer edges of the Protected Zone.
The captain of the patrol ship ordered the first mate to deploy the forward bat. From the crossbar atop a 50 meter tall steel mast, a giant bat spread its wings, and glided into the wind. A thin wire played out from a spool fitted to a collar around the bat’s neck.
The operator, perched in a glass turret at the top of the steel mast, read returning sonar signals as the bat made its way to the wild ocean. The hammerhead was in what scientists called a fluctuation, an area where clear blue waters of the Protected Zone merged with deep green waters of the Wild Ocean. The Color Change, as the fishers and traders called it, maintained an average daily variance of five kilometers. Arcing from north to south like a pendulum.
Inside the turret, the operator interpreted the the returning sonar signal as the Gato Kujira on a direct course for Hirokawa.
Swimming at an angle on a direct course with the ship-whale was a big hammerhead. The operator relayed the coordinates of the Gato Kujira to the captain of the patrol ship. The captain passed the coordinates to the first mate. The mate brought the headings to the bow. As he walked back to the bridge two Citizens loaded a harpoon into a long barrel as it lifted off the deck.
The man sitting in the gunner’s chair waited fro the visual rangefinder to reach the specified longitude and latitude and then squeezed the trigger. A blurred streak shot out of the bore of the cannon.
In the tower, the bat operator watched the path of the speeding projectile. He locked onto the trajectory, making minor steering adjustment to keep the harpoon on track.
When the harpoon was out of visual range, the operator relied on sonar feedback from the scout bat to maintain a straight and true heading.
The scout-bat steering coordinator converted the crude sonar into visual data and directed the harpoon at the hammerhead swimming just below the surface. One final course adjustment placed the harpoon at a right angle. A split second later, the tip of the harpoon penetrated the gills.
The shark thrashed wildly, turning over ten times until going limp. It settled beneath the waves.
The bat-scout appeared overhead. As it swooped in close to the surface, the coordinator jettisoned a pair of hooks positioned on the underside of the collar. The hooks, tethered to the bat-scout by flexible steel cables, caught hold. The scout-bat beat giant wings, hauling the dead hammerhead back up to the surface.
Kenshin brought the Gato Kujira alongside the carcass as the bat-scout returned to port.
The captain drove the ship-whale into a protected cove. Once the watership was secured in its holding pen, Kenshin reported to the Institute of Science.
“Welcome back, Captain Kamura” Masato Hasegawa, Kenshin’s commanding officer said as he looked up from the multiple displays embedded in the glass desktop.
The captain sat down. Masato looked from side to side. Icons faded as he cleared the desk. He got down to business: “Download and readjustment procedures will begin immediately. Are you ready?”
“Yes, sir,” Kenshin replied. Having your chip tweaked was never a pleasant experience. Captain Kamura looked forward to being normalized again — at least until the next mission.
Kenshin followed Director Hasegawa. Masato paused. A section of the wall slid open and they entered an adjoining room.
A pair of technicians closed the access panels of a silver cylindrical tower. Kenshin knew the drill: he turned and backed up. The outer skin of the tower gave way, forming a niche partially enclosing the occupant.
Next, Captain Kamura felt a pinch as a series of pins entered his neck. When the tower socket made contact with the embedded chip, he blacked out.
The captain struggled to focus on the dark figure standing in front of him. Sounds emitted from the top of the figure.
Gradually, the blurry figure took on finer details as the ability to focus returned. Sounds became words.
“Are you fully recovered?” Director Hasegawa asked.
“Yes, Director,”
Kenshin replied. Looking around, he saw he'd been moved from the booster draining lab into a room with a single bed. As he stood, waves of thirst and hunger caused knees to buckle. He reached out and held onto the edge of the raised bed.
Masato returned to his office. A young technician — studying a millimeter thick tablet — waited for Masato.
Kenshin left the recovery room and made his way to the nearest restaurant.
3
MASATO LOOKED AT one of the displays. “So,” he said to the young woman sitting on the other side of the desk, “you served your apprenticeship under Bunko Fujita.”
“Yes, that’s correct, Master Hasegawa —”
“You can drop the Master,” Masato cut her off. “Here my title is Director.”
“Thank you …” Sobuku Sato hesitated for a few moments. Nodding, she added, “Director Hasegawa.”
“Your instructor at the academy, Bunko Fujita was one of my best students, and she has nothing but good things to say about you: intelligent, reliable, dependable … a quick learner and fast starter with a strong work ethic. That’s exactly what we need here.”
Sobuku’s face reddened. She was not used to being praised by the Director of the Institute of Natural Science and she’d never been in line for a position outside of the academic environment.
An awkward silence followed. Finally, Masato spoke: “I want you to begin on your first assignment immediately. One of our ships, the Gato Kujira Maru, recently returned from a voyage to the northern latitudes.
“Captain Kenshin Kamura has been debriefed. All the pertinent data relating to the mission has been downloaded from Kamura’s embedded chip. I want you to analyze the data and provide a full report when you’re done.”
“Do you want that uploaded to the crystal network?” Sobuku asked.
“Actually no … I don’t want the report to be in soft form, put it on a stand-alone tablet. I want this to remain between us.”
“Very well,” Sobuku said. “I’ll need an office and equipment.”
“You have it, Sobuku. You’ve been assigned room 506 at the institute. It has been fully outfitted for your needs. If you need anything — within reason — request it through the proper supply channels.”
“Again, I thank you.” Sobuku stood, set a clenched fist over her heart, and bowed slightly.
Masato acknowledged the display of respect by nodding his chin to his chest. “That will be all for now,” he said.
Sobuku left Masato’s office — the entire top floor of the cylindrical building housing the institute — and glided down the moving ramp. She eased in a stop at the fifth floor and located her office. Sobuku walked across the office and stood by the window stretching from floor to ceiling. She touched the glass and looked out over the harbor. Dozens of big ships lay at anchor. Many more smaller vessels, traders and tenders, moved about the harbor.
A moment of doubt hit Sobuku. She’d gotten what she wanted. Am I up to the task? she asked herself. To use a phrase from her birth mother, Can I fit into this mold?
These thoughts faded as Sobuku turned and wal
ked to her desk. She invoked the main status screen on the glass desktop display. A listing of assignments appeared beneath her image and credentials. Sobuku’s first and only task — analyzing data from the voyage of the Gato Kujira — appeared as a subheading.
Two hours later, Sobuku eased the last elevated screen back down to the desktop and saved it to the microscopic memory fibers embedded in the glass face. After compiling a short message. She transmitted it to Masato’s office display.
In his office, Masato glanced at the communications icon flashing the numbers 506. He opened the message:
— Task complete
Masato summoned Sobuku to his office.
About the same time Sobuku left 506, Kenshin Kamura left the debriefing room. He walked out of the institute and glided on the main ramp toward the harbor. The captain of the watership stepped off the ramp when the bands under his feet slowed and then ceased forward motion. He took Bay Street, following the semicircular road spanning the port. Kenshin entered the main door of the Sankawa Inn, the hostel where he spent his off-duty time.
The download and factory reset of Kenshin’s internal chip had left him feeling tired and hungry. Mission mode, a hyper-aware state utilizing enhanced adrenaline biological functions, left the user with no hunger and no need for sleep. Only water was required to keep the user alive in this condition. Bodily functions such as waste removal were suspended: no urine, no feces, no sweat, no tears, hair or nails didn’t grow, skin cells didn’t fall off, and core temperature remained at a constant level eight degrees below normal.
Kenshin wasn’t sure what was worse: trapped in a suspended state or adjusting to normalization.
Sweat glands, dormant for ten days, went wild as Kenshin walked up to the reception desk. The stench of body odor filled his nostrils.
The thought, Definitely time for a bath, crossed his mind as Captain Kamura rode the ramp to third floor.
In his room, Kenshin stripped down. He sat in the steam closet. Sweat poured and flowed into the drain on the floor to be carried away and leeched for salt and minerals.