Druid's Descendants (Druid's Path Book 4)

by Mark Philipson

  Once his pores ceased pumping perspiration, Kenshin stepped out of the steam cabinet and stepped into the steaming bath. Hot water, forced under pressure from jets and laced with gentle cleaning fluids and healing medication, soaked into sore muscles.

  A final dip in the ice-water pool tightened Kenshin’s pores.

  Kenshin dressed in a casual uniform. He left the apartment. As he closed the door behind him, he felt the initial stirrings of hunger returning. The tavern on the first floor of the inn served food.

  For his first meal in days since entering mission mode, Kenshin ate a platter of broiled fish steaks and a bowl of wild rice and mixed vegetables.

  Hunger satiated, Kenshin sat back and relaxed. Sexual impulses returned with the increasing bulge in his crotch.

  Kenshin ordered a tall drink. Halfway through his face went numb and his fingertips tingled. On his way out of the tavern, Kenshin asked for a pleasure citizen to be sent up to his room.

  “Man or woman?” the attendant asked.

  Kenshin thought about it for a few seconds. “Woman,” he answered.

  After ten days in mission mode, Kenshin penetrated the pleasure citizen orally, vaginally, and anally seven times. For the first time in ten days, Kenshin closed his eyes and drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  4

  SOBUKU SET THE micro-tablet on the desk. Masato picked up the thin, rectangular piece of amber clay and palmed it. Seconds later, heat generated by his skin reacted with the Coreglass fibers embedded in the clay. The tablet expanded instantly to what the ancients called letter size. Etchings, barely visible on the face, now became legible paragraphs of text.

  Masato eyes scanned the report from top to bottom three times. “These are your findings?” he asked, setting the tablet down and tapping his index finger.

  The inscription on the face of the tablet faded. “Yes, according to my analysis, sea levels are decreasing. Simultaneously, the polar ice caps are increasing.”

  Masato exhaled and then said, “Perhaps you should return when you’ve made a second run of the data, Sobuku.”

  Sobuku sat up straight and squared her shoulders. “I’ve made three runs, each time with identical results,” she reassured Masato.

  “My apologies for doubting your methodology,” Masato nodded. “I have a question, based on your findings. Will the earth be able to support human life outside of the protected zone again? If so, when will this take place?” He stared at the shrinking tablet.

  While working on the data, when the gravity of the situation became apparent, Sobuku calculated rising oxygen levels against decreasing sea levels. She’d done the math, as her birth-mother would say. “If the ice cap continues expanding at the current rate and no undue stress is placed on the atmosphere …” Sobuku hesitated. When Masato looked up she continued. “My calculations indicate life support systems will be at optimum levels in 275 years.”

  “Take this.” Masato slid the tablet across the desk.

  As Sobuku placed the miniaturized piece in a pocket of her tunic, Masato mentioned, “I see that you are scheduled to be moved up to reproduction status on the new year.”

  “Yes,” Sobuku confirmed what was on the desk display. “My bloodline can be traced all the way back to the early days of the Tulanos. I’m a direct descendant of Morgance.”

  “Interesting, has an impregnation candidate been appointed by the birthing committee?”

  “Not yet,” Sobuku answered. She braced herself for what might come next. Would my research assignment at the institute be cut short by pregnancy? Things had changed since the ancient days. Gestation periods had returned to nine months.

  “How would feel if I told you I could arrange to have the birthing schedule postponed indefinitely, Sobuku?”

  Sobuku smiled. Her eyes lit up. She caught herself and put on a serious face. “We all must be prepared to make sacrifices,” she answered.

  “I’ll make a note to speak to the committee chair immediately. From now on, I want you to work on what could prove to be one of the most critical projects in history.”

  “Very well,” Sobuku replied. “When do we begin?”

  “Preparations will begin tomorrow. You’ll undergo seven days of submariner training —”

  “Submariner training?” Sobuku broke in. She hadn’t bargained for this. A research position was one thing, living inside of a large mammal that carried its own oxygen supply was another.

  “Is there a problem, Sobuku? Should I forget about contacting the birthing committee?”

  “Can I think about this for awhile, Masato?”

  “You have until the end of day. By sunset, I need to have an answer.”

  Sobuku returned to returned her office. She rubbed her temples in an effort to massage out the beginnings of a headache. When the pain persisted, Sobuku pulled a capsule from a sleeve on her forearm and broke it in half. As a stream of vapor rose she inhaled deeply. Tingling in her nostrils radiated up into her forehead and settled in the back of her neck. The pain over the eyes faded when the fluttering in her spine let up.

  For most of her adult life, Sobuku had done everything possible to delay childbirth. Academic extensions and compensations had run their course. She had hoped that working for the institute might prove to be helpful in being granted another compensation. She was absolutely correct in this assumption, but, Sobuku would have to endure seven days of one of the hardest disciplines on Landring.

  Should I back out? The question kept popping into Sobuku’s mind. Each time she weighed one choice against the other: on one hand she faced childbirth. Maternal and paternal laws, passed down through thousands of years, excluded any type of medical assistance in the birthing process. Mortality rates among mothers and children were high. One in ten births could expect complications of some type. On the other hand, submarine duty, when compared to childbirth, was dangerous all the time.

  Sobuku continued with the internal debate for another two hours. She accepted Masato’s proposal.

  In the Hostel apartment, Kenshin heard a pulsating signal that seemed to come from far away. He opened his eyes and tried to focus on the environment. Initially, the nearest objects became clear. The citizen from the tavern was gone. Kenshin sat up. A blurred orange light cast intermittent strobes through the darkened room.

  Kenshin pulled himself out of bed and walked to the desk. He glanced at the signal and blinked twice. Masato Hasegawa’s image appeared under the diminishing signal.

  — I trust you slept well?

  — I’m still feeling a bit muddled.

  — That should wear off shortly, Captain.

  To himself, Kenshin thought, That’s easy for you to say. You haven’t had your body hammered with adrenaline enhancers.

  — I understand how you feel.

  It had slipped Kenshin’s mind Hasegawa was a member of an elite group of scientists possessing powerful telepathic powers. Continued exposure during visits to Hasegawa’s office had reinforced the mental connection and increased the thought acceptance radius to 1,000 meters. Kenshin stood at attention and cleared his mind seconds after Masato transmitted the positive thought bringing the captain back on point.

  — When will the mission begin, Sir?

  — You and a civilian passenger will undergo seven days of intensive training in preparation for a 30 day expedition to the Arctic.

  Masato signed off. This was a first: the longest undersea mission in history as well as the first non-military passenger on a ship-whale.

  5

  “SOBUKU SATO, I want you to meet Kenshin Kamura, pilot and captain of the Gato Kujira Maru,” Masato motioned to Kenshin. He added, “He will be in command of the expedition.” Masato turned to Kenshin. “Captain Kamura …” he trailed off and indicated Sobuku with a wave of an extended hand. “Meet Sobuku Sato … mission specialist and passenger.”

  Once Sobuku and Kenshin tapped and bowed they sat across from Masato. “I can’t put too much emphasis on the need for absol
ute secrecy in this matter,” Masato insisted, tapping the desktop three times. Each time harder and louder than the previous. “Outside of this office, you must not speak of what is said … don’t think about anything that transpires between you or anybody involved in this mission.” Masato glanced from Sobuku to Kenshin. “Is that understood?” he asked.

  “Affirmative,” Kenshin snapped back.

  “May I ask why?” Sobuku, slower to respond, asked. When she saw the looks Masato and Kenshin exchanged she wondered if she’d spoke too soon.

  “Not yet, Sobuku,” Masato shook his head. “As I said, I want communications of that nature to be kept outside of this office and outside of the institute.”

  “Very well,” Sobuku agreed.

  Masato stood up and walked around the desk. “Come, join me, I feel the need to stretch my legs.”

  Sobuku and Kenshin joined Masato. They glided down from the top floor and stepped off at the lobby. Military officers, each wearing tunics and trousers ranging from light blue to dark blue, mingled with civilians wearing shades of gray ranging from white to black.

  After passing through the main doors of the institute. Masato chose to take the stairs instead of one of the moving ramps placed in the centers of each side of the pyramid shaped base of of all government buildings in Hirokawa.

  On the perimeter road, Masato adjusted his pace and looked around. Positive no one else was within earshot, he said, “Scientific analysis of the data collected on the last voyage of the Gato has confirmed what many of my colleagues believe — the climatic conditions outside of the dome may be undergoing a cooling trend.”

  “Global cooling is not a new theory,” Sobuku shrugged, “Why the need for all the clandestine activity?”

  Before Masato could answer a rushing sound filled the air. Seconds later, sirens wailed out a long, pulsating drone: the dome breach alert. As Masato, Sobuku, and Kenshin hurried toward the nearest emergency shelter, Masato looked at the nearby Institute of Trade and Commerce. Citizens on the steps and in the street clutched their throats and tried to scream. Blood burst out of open orifices. Eyeballs bulged and exploded out of their sockets. Masato stood frozen, fascinated by the grisly sight of the approaching depressurized wave of air killing Citizens. Kenshin pulled Masato into the shelter.

  “I thank you, Captain Kamura,” Masato said as the door closed behind him.

  Inside the shelter, a long underground bunker, screens mounted on the walls flashed a dome breach signal. Masato, Sobuku, and Kenshin sat on one of the padded benches lining the walls of the bunker. The color of the breach warning changed from red to orange. The warning icon in the center of the screen scaled down and populated the corners. An image sequence and narrative followed: “The breach in the air dome above the Institute of Trade and Commerce has been isolated. Repair crews have been deployed and are assessing the damage.” The image sequence showed Citizens in full protective gear boarding a hovercraft. After a complete equipment check the hovercraft ascended.

  Three hours later — the first hour dedicated to the ascent to the top of the dome, the second hour the fusing of the split in the dome, and the third hour the descent back to street level — the breach warning icon scaled back to full-size, returned the center of the monitor, and flashed green.

  When the all-clear sirens stopped and the doors to the shelter opened, Masato, Sobuku, and Kenshin made their way to the sidewalk. Most Citizens used the adjacent moving ramp to get around in Hirokawa. Only a few actually used the sidewalk. The team could speak in private.

  Masato drew Sobuku and Kenshin closer. He said, “In answer to your question about the mission. The Gato will be refitted to carry an extra passenger. Oxygen and water purification systems will be enhanced to support the ship and crew for 60 days. Twice the expected duration of the mission.”

  Sobuku, unused to following orders asked, “What is the destination?”

  “Captain Kenshin will pilot the ship to the Arctic Circle. He will navigate the Gato under the ice to the North Pole. At the precise coordinates, heat from the ship’s Coreglass reactor will be used to melt a hole in the ice-shelf. Sobuku will take samples of the ice and record temperatures over a 12 hour period. The data will be downloaded when the Gato returns to port.”

  “I have a question, sir?” Kenshin asked.

  “Yes.”

  “If the ship is able to sustain itself for 90 days — what will happen to us if the ship is delayed? Is there a contingency plan?”

  “Good question, Captain,” Masato nodded. “If the ship is delayed, you’ll be able to extend the adrenaline enhancement procedure.”

  “I’ll do my best to prevent this situation from taking place,” Kenshin promised.

  Sobuku thought she should say something. She kept quiet. Her role as a researcher didn’t cover the intricacies involved in ship-whale handling and mechanics.

  “I know this,” Masato said. “That is why I recommended you for the assignment, Captain.”

  Sobuku and Kenshin both nodded.

  “Intensive training will begin tomorrow. Take the rest of the day to get your affairs in order,” Masato said.

  The crew scheduled for the North Pole expedition left the Institute of Natural Science: Sobuku returned the her apartment. She recorded an image sequence, attached a brief narrative, and then sent it to her mother. Kenshin returned to the hostel. He spent two hours with a pleasure Citizen and fell asleep shortly after the young man left the apartment.

  Sobuku, unable to sleep, tossed and turned all night. She showered and dressed in the morning and waited. After breaking and inhaling two stimulant capsules, fatigue and drowsiness faded.

  Kenshin woke thirty minutes before the meeting.

  6

  AS PLANNED, SOBUKU and Kenshin met Masato in his office at dawn. The team climbed a single flight of stairs and stepped out onto the roof. A hovercraft lay at anchor on the landing pad. The co-pilot/navigator deployed a ramp from the deck of the ship. When the team boarded, he retracted the access ramp and jumped back on board.

  The main lift rotors curved downward at the outboard edges. When the pilot engaged the lift rotor it spun into a flat, blurred circle. The ship ascended. The pilot engaged the spinning thrust rotor mounted on the stern. The hovercraft banked and the pilot leveled off at 1,500 meters, banked hard to starboard, and brought the ship into a gentle turn. He kept the ship centered over the dark land mass below.

  Inside the hovercraft, the team sat in silence. Masato studied his tablet. Kenshin dozed off. Sobuku stared out the window, watching clusters of tall ​buildings, walls lined with hanging planters, give way to the bare structures of the manufacturing district. Apartments, bristling with rooftop gardens, replaced thinning factories. Expansive homes, situated on acres of farmland, finally gave way to dense rain forests.

  At a clearing in the bush, the pilot disengaged forward thrust. Sobuku felt her hips pushing against the seatbelt as the hovercraft dropped. She’d forgotten how many times she’d relieved her popping ears when the pilot eased into the final approach and brought the ship to a gentle landing.

  Masato set the tablet down. Kenshin woke up. Sobuku reached for the buckle on her seatbelt. The team disembarked. On the ground, an institute Citizen, dressed in a light-blue uniform, greeted Masato. When the co-pilot retracted the access ramp, the team followed the Citizen toward an object in the center of the clearing.

  As the group neared the object it, a gray panel parted at the center. Flexible steel doors took the shape of the curved ceramic entrance port of the emergency shelter.

  This was no ordinary shelter. Masato, seeing Sobuku’s puzzled look broke his silence: “We are in one of the institute’s research and development facilities.” He motioned to an array of monitoring stations spanning circular walls then went on, “The building is laid-out like the institute, except the floors have been reversed. The lobby, where we’re standing now, sits above 11 levels. This will be our home for the next seven days.”

  T
raining began immediately. Sobuku and Kenshin reported to the physical assessment department. A technician told them to take off their boots and mount a pair of climbing simulators. The technician tested the metabolic feedback sensors in the hand grips and footpads.

  Sobuku and Kenshin fell into the steady rhythm of reaching up and pulling down with their arms and following through with their legs.

  The technician increased the resistance at 10 minute intervals. When she reached the fifth level, Sobuku barely found enough strength to push her legs and pull her arms to the halfway increment on the extension meter.

  The technician eased up on the tension on Sobuku’s machine. He told her to dismount and report to the assessment manager.

  Kenshin continued climbing.

  The assessment manger went over Sobuku’s scores on the physical evaluation. He laid out a physical training schedule and set specific goals to be met prior to mission launch. When the manager dismissed Sobuku he told her to report for psychiatric evaluation.

  Sobuku took the elevator to Level 7. The psych officer, Tomiku Harado stood up, walked around the desk and shook hands with Sobuku. “Please, make yourself comfortable,” Tomiku Harado smiled and nodded.

  Harado got to the point: “According the your initial psych evaluation you have some phobias.” When Harado saw Sobuku squirming in her chair, she said. “This is a common condition among Citizens who have never had their embedded chips tweaked.”

  “Are my phobias severe enough to warrant readjustment?”

  “Well,” Harado cleared her throat. “You have a deep seated claustrophobic condition, which could become catastrophic inside the confines of a sperm whale’s head. If left unchecked, adrenaline boosting drugs may increase the closed in sensation exponentially, resulting in possible suicide.”

  “I understand,” Sobuku nodded.

  “Do you agree to the treatment?” Harado asked.

  “I agree,” Sobuku answered.

  Harado pushed a tablet across the desk. “This is a consent form. Read it and verify the next of kin notification information.”