“Take my hand?” Utz offered.
“No!”
Utz groaned to himself. He’d offended her. It was hard to know when to offer help and when to let her tough it out. Reluctantly, he turned toward the water and walked on without looking back.
At the beach, he shed his outer clothes, just leaving on swim shorts. Then he sat staring out at the cove, but noticing nothing. He was nervous about what he had planned.
Derry joined him several minutes later, panting with exertion. She dropped heavily onto a large rock. While she stripped to her own swim suit, she asked, “What’s its name?”
“Godzilla,” Utz said.
“What?”
“It’s an Earth name for an Earth creature. There’s a Japanese myth about a huge creature named Godzilla. It goes around smashing things and killing people.”
Derry looked sideways at Utz. “You’re serious?”
Utz held up a hand, as if taking an oath. “Very serious. Look it up.”
He’d spent many days reading up on Earth mythology, and he quite liked the Godzilla stories. He spoke English, the business language of Earth, but he’d also concentrated on Japanese, watching hours of videos from Japanese speakers. He hoped to live in Tokyo—if he ever made it to Earth.
“Will this shark go around smashing things and killing people like its namesake?” she asked.
“No. Of course not,” he said with a smirk. “Godzilla is a myth.”
Utz walked into the water and turned to watch Derry. She unbuckled the leg brace on her left leg and awkwardly stood. A livid scar meandered down the outer leg. When she’d been caught by debris from a volcano blast three years ago, the bone was crushed. Doctors inserted a medical grade metal rod, but it left her in the brace. They might’ve done more if the planetary disaster wasn’t pending. Utz knew her well enough by now to understand that just plain walking hurt. The pain left her touchy sometimes, but she never complained. He admired her courage in carrying on.
He waited until she stood upright on her good leg, and they dove together. Underwater, her limp disappeared and a natural grace took over. With her legs mokwa together, her strong leg could compensate for the weaker.
They could talk underwater, but water carried voices with less efficiency than air, and they sounded like they were whispering. That just meant they had to swim close to each other, which didn’t bother Utz at all.
Derry said, “So, you leave tomorrow for Tizzalura to meet the Earthling medical research delegation. Any surprises?”
“I hear that Jake Quad-de is officially part of the Earth delegation now. I met him once, not that he’ll remember. My father was in Killia as an ambassador, and I went along. We were invited to watch a fight floor. It must’ve been right before Jake went off-planet.”
“Good or bad?”
Utz laughed in a burble of water. “He studied with some Bo-See knife master, so he was good. For a Tizzalurian. Bad for a Bo-See.”
“But what will your father do? Will he allow the Earthlings to come south?”
“I don’t know.” Utz shook his head. “On one hand, it doesn’t matter because the planet will implode soon anyway. But on the other hand, the planet will implode soon, so we should end our days with dignity.” He was repeating arguments he’d overheard at his father’s table, and he had no idea what his father, King Pharomond Seehafer, would decide.
Derry agreed. “These are dark days and few of us will make it out. That’s why a day like this is special.”
They were supposed to be at work, but had agreed: they would come out and enjoy the beauty of their planet. Everyone was skipping work, so it didn’t matter anyway. The only thing that kept Derry going in was the responsibility of caring for the animals they kept for research. She couldn’t let them starve. But after she fed and watered them, she left whenever she liked.
By now, they had swum across the cove and neared the cave where Utz had last seen the great white pup. He hoped the pup would still be there because he wanted Derry to be impressed.
At the cave opening, he stopped and waved her back. Slowly, he let himself drift toward the dark. Something moved. A white form surged from the cave.
The pup had grown! About half the size of the parents, the young great white bared its teeth at Utz and Derry.
Derry backed away, but Utz merely flapped his hands, sending waves toward the shark that said, “Friend.”
The shark slowed. For a moment, Utz was sure the shark possessed a great intelligence, and if they could only break the code, they’d be able to communicate. The pup’s eyes seemed to understand the word, friend. But his blue eyes darkened to navy, and he turned to dart back inside its cave.
Utz turned to Derry. “Well?”
Her eyes were large, and her hair floated around her face like a dark halo. “That was amazing.”
“Derry, I leave this evening.”
She looked down. “I know.”
Utz desperately wanted to please his father, wanted his father to be proud of him. But his father would never understand what he did next. Officially, he was engaged to Mitzi Adams, the daughter of a politician who supported the Seehafers. But his heart had never been in it.
He took a deep breath through his gills. “If I can find a way to get to Cadee, would you come with me?”
Her face jerked up. Even underwater, a sudden hope made her face glow. “I’m crippled. They won’t let me.”
Utz knew that her brother, Kirkwall, had already gone up to Cadee, and she was resigned to her fate on Rison. When her brother went off-planet, she’d cried for a week before she straightened her back and insisted that Utz take her on a picnic.
“I want to live on this glorious day,” she had told him. “Not whine away for what I’ll never have.”
She never spoke of her brother again. But it didn’t have to be that way.
“If I can find a way,” he repeated, “would you come?”
They needed more time, Utz thought. He’d like a year to get to know her better, a couple years to grow up together. But time was running out. Somehow, he had to find a way to get off-planet and take her with him. She was the only one who understood Godzilla, who understood him.
“Yes.” Her voice was as soft as the brush of seaweed against his cheek.
He leaned in closer.
“If you can find a way,” she said. Then she smiled, her face dimpling. “And if you promise to save Godzilla, too.”
“Yeah,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll save you and Godzilla.”
Strategic Planning
That evening, after getting settled into their new rooms, the Earthlings—Dr. Mangot, Captain Bulmer, Blake, and Jake—gathered in the dining room on the top floor. Jake introduced Swann, and they all chatted while waiting for dinner to be served.
After a few pleasantries, Blake asked Swann, “You know about the Fewtrell Freedom Fighters?”
“Is that what they are calling themselves?” Swann motioned for the group to move to the table, where he sat at the head and put Jake at the other end.
“You know who they are?” Blake accused Swann.
“Of course. Their leader is Ancel Fallstar, a Bo-See smuggler. He’s been a leader among the Bo-See coalition for the last fifteen years. He always was a smart man. I believe they now have five spaceships. Not enough to be a full fleet, but enough to take their piracy to a new level.”
“You didn’t warn us about them.” Blake’s voice was accusing.
Servants came around with platters of food, and Jake recognized a couple favorites: orton roast (a ham-like meat), steamed puck (a sweet and sour broccoli-like vegetable), and wolkev pie for dessert.
“It’s the first time they stopped a vessel coming down,” Swann answered Blake. “Before this, they stopped vessels leaving Rison’s atmosphere.”
“Why don’t you do something about them?”
Swann said, “The situation is worse than you know. Come. Let’s eat. After that, we’ll go over everything in detail
and plan what to do next.”
Blake had to agree, for it was Swann’s house, and he was Swann’s guest. The supper was lengthy and full of questions from everyone else about Risonian culture and customs.
Jake said little. He just watched the Earthlings and wondered how such an important mission could have fallen to them. Earth and Rison were tied together now by ecological issues. The umjaadi organism was thriving in Earth’s oceans and would inevitably infect the whole Phoke population. If they didn’t find a cure soon, Earth wouldn’t allow Risonians to evacuate to Earth. They would create hysteria that the umjaadi illness could be spread to humans on land, or some other ridiculous gossip. If they stopped the evacuation, the Risonians culture and customs would become extinct. He felt weighted down by the responsibility, as if he’d landed on a large planet with a huge gravitational pull, and his weight was doubled.
As food was served, though, the conversation turned toward lighter things. Jake ate three pieces of wolkev pie, almost satisfying his hunger for all things Risonian. They moved to the conference room for coffee, or verki, the Risonian equivalent. Technicians arrived with equipment for Jake to translate. He had a miniature microphone on his shirt collar that transmitted to ear buds that were provided for each Earthling. The technicians were followed by a couple Tizzalurian officials who gave them a quick update on the grim situation on Rison. They estimated perhaps a month, maybe two before the planet imploded. If they used every available planet-to-Moon spaceship, they still could only evacuate 500 people a day. The moon base could accommodate much larger transport vessels, so the trips to Earth could accommodate larger numbers. The bottleneck was in getting people from Rison to Cadee.
Jake would have to translate everything for the Earthlings, so he was pleased when the equipment worked well.
After the gloomy forecast, the Risonians asked if the Earthlings had questions.
Blake immediately asked about Dolk’s technology, and Jake translated into Risonian: “Have you tried Dolk’s technology? Surely his TAG-GIMS—his tungsten anti-gravity gradient-index meta-surface—would make a difference.”
One of the Tizzalurians answered, “We tried it. And it does work. It’s just far too late for Rison. If we’d known five years ago. . .” He trailed off.
The weight of the planet’s fate pulled even harder on Jake’s conscience. If only he’d known that Mai-Ron Dolk’s technology was secret. If only he hadn’t been so weighed down with grief over the loss of his best friend, Stefan. If only he’d mentioned the TAG-GIMS to someone, anyone. If only.
Instead, full of grief when his friend died, Jake hadn’t told anyone about Dolk’s technology. It only came out a couple months ago when he was trying to stop sabotage on Earth’s volcano, Mt. Rainier.
The information was far too late for Rison.
Jake knew Rison’s destruction wasn’t his fault, but he could’ve slowed it, maybe stopped it.
If only.
It was ironic how a freak accident—the lightning strike that flipped the Dolk’s car killing father and son—had changed the fate of a planet. And tragic how a freak accident—breaking an umjaadi globe in Puget Sound—might endanger all the Phoke on Earth. They had to find the cure for the umjaadi illness. Em had to live.
Jake turned his attention back to his translation duties.
“Will the Bo-See Coalition allow us access to the southern seas?” Dr. Mangot asked.
“Seehafer is reasonable, but his ministers? No, they won’t let you in,” grumbled a Tizzalurian official.
Blake said, “If we don’t have permission, are there ways to get there anyway? Unwatched areas, places where stealth will get us to the right locations?”
Swann Quad-de stood and paced. He wore his official black uniform with straight legs, a jacket with shiny stones as buttons, and a short cape. He reminded Jake of the lava fields, where black stone covered the surface, but underneath, there bubbled a dangerous flame. “You understand, I can’t be a party to stealth.” He said the word “stealth” with scorn. “If crazy Earthlings do unexpected things, well, I can’t be held responsible.”
Nodding, Dad said, “Of course. Any attempt to reach the southern seas on our part would be unauthorized. Plausible deniability.”
When that was translated, Swann’s nose ridges wrinkled deeply. “I’ve not heard that term before. A useful bit of language.”
Dr. Mangot said, “Then, how long? When can we get there?”
Swann sat in the largest chair and flipped his cape back. “The International Council meets tomorrow. It’ll be at least two days of discussions before anything can be decided.”
“Two days!” Dr. Mangot exploded. “Too long. We must start traveling by the end of today.”
“Must we?” Swann answered innocently in English.
Dr. Mangot swore and said through clenched teeth. “My people are in danger.”
Jake understood her frustration. She was used to giving orders in the hospital, and in Aberforth Hills, her orders were instantly obeyed. But she was out of her sphere of influence here and would have to wait for Swann to act. Dr. Mangot wouldn’t stand for inactivity for very long before she did something rash.
Dad defused the situation by rising to walk to a window. Though it was full dark, the horizon glowed red. “How many new volcanoes this month?”
“Around the world? Hundreds,” Swann said grimly.
“We’re playing a dangerous game if we wait. But it’ll be faster with cooperation. Three days. After that, we must find an alternative. We’ve no idea how long it will take Dr. Mangot to find what she needs. And time grows very short.” Dad turned back to the group. “Agreed?”
Captain Bulmer, who’d been silent, was the first to say. “Agreed.”
Jake nodded. “Agreed.”
Dr. Mangot was the last to speak. Her compressed lips and straight back said, “No.” But she grudgingly said, “Three days only. Agreed.”
“Good,” Swann nodded. “Get some sleep and get adjusted to our time zone. The International Council begins at daybreak tomorrow. I’ll be busy the rest of the day welcoming guests. Please don’t wander the hallways because the Council may not appreciate your presence. For meals and gathering, please use the small dining room on the second floor where your rooms are located. International guests will be housed underwater in our most luxurious rooms, so they won’t see you unless you’re out and about. Tomorrow, I’ll introduce you all together to the Council. I’ll send a guard at the proper time to escort you. Understood?”
Dad answered before Dr. Mangot could. “Understood. Till tomorrow then.”
Swann nodded and turned to go, followed by his officials and bodyguard.
Jake followed and said, “Sir?”
Swann turned back. “Yes?”
“May I offer my services today? I know the estate and could direct people as you wish, help with luggage, carry things from the kitchen. . .”
Swann put a hand on his shoulder and nodded solemnly. “It might help. Just be sure you’re polite to everyone.”
“Of course! I’m not a child any longer.”
“Have you grown up while you’ve been on Earth?” Swann ran an eye up and down quickly, evaluating Jake’s height. “More than just growing taller?”
Have I grown up? Jake asked himself. Certainly, Mom and Dad had learned not to ignore him or to try to hide things from him. They needed to know what was happening to him, and they needed to understand what he thought about situations. They had learned to respect him. He realized that Swann had no reason to respect him as an adult. He’d have to earn that from Swann, just as he had with Mom and Dad.
“I’m a son of the house of Quad-de, and I’ll make you proud,” he said formally.
Swann pulled him into a hug, and said in a husky voice. “I’m so glad you’re home.”
We are Risonian
International Council - Quad-de Estate, Killia, Tizzalura, northern hemisphere of Rison
Jake balanced a tray of hors d’o
euvres on his arm and wove through the crowd to the Bo-See Coalition officials. He offered officials the cheese and golden wolkev, a special variety of the fruit that only grew on the plateaus above Marasca, Bo-See’s capital. Swann had spared no expense to make everyone comfortable. Jake’s tray was almost empty when someone stopped in front of him wearing the Bo-See uniform of white robes, white leggings, and white sandals.
“Hello, Jake Quad-de.” It was a smooth, deep voice and spoken in Boadan, not Tizzalurian. As part of his training as a Quad-de, Jake was fluent in the language.
Looking up, he saw a younger Bo-See, short and thick. Basically, the Bo-See came in two types: the Seehafers who were broad-shouldered, strong warriors who never took prisoners, and the Boada, who were tall, skinny blood-thirsty sailors. This one took after the Seehafer line, so the Boadan language puzzled him.
“Hello. How do you know me?” Jake said politely in Boadan. He half-turned to let another Bo-See take a piece of golden wolkev.
“I watched you once on the fight floor, just before you went off-planet. My name is Utz Seehafer.” He stuck out his left hand to shake.
Jake understood instantly: the left hand never carried a knife.
Looking closer, Jake saw that Utz was probably his age, or maybe a year or two older. He shook Utz’s hand with his own left hand. “Son of His Highness, Pharomond Seehafer, I assume.”
Utz nodded. “How long have you been back? And what’s Earth like?”
Jake tilted his head and said ruefully. “That’s rather like asking a Risonian to describe our planet, but one who is Tizzalurian and has never seen your capital city, Marasca. Or the Holla Sea. Because Earth is a huge planet and there’s so much variety.”
“Put that way,” Utz said, “it makes sense. Where were you on Earth?”
“Three places.” Another Bo-See stepped in to pluck a glass from Jake’s tray. “A beach at Gulf Shores, Alabama in the southern United States. The city of Seattle on the Pacific Ocean, still in the U.S. And Edinburgh in the north part of the United Kingdom.”
Pilgrims Page 4
