by Mark Wandrey
“You can see them after we dock with Pegasus,” his mom said. She looked at the captain. “We’ll have a few hours before we go through the stargate?”
“We don’t jump until 22:00 Zulu,” she said. Outside, Pegasus grew steadily closer.
* * *
Docking with the Winged Hussars’ huge warship turned out to be nothing special. A few minutes of bumps from the Teddy Roosevelt’s maneuvering thrusters, followed by a jolt, and the PA announced they were docked.
Terry realized he didn’t know what Zulu time was after docking, but then a crewman helped him update his phone for the ship’s network, and the time matched immediately. They had three hours. He spent the time in the observation dome, watching the proceedings in space.
They were one of four ships docking with Pegasus, all of which had evacuated the institute, cetaceans, and staff. He overhead one conversation his mom was having with the radio operator. Authorities on Earth were insisting they return to Earth immediately.
“Can they make us?” Terry asked Doc.
“Pegasus is more powerful than all the spaceships Earth has combined,” he said.
“How do you know so much about this stuff?” he asked Doc.
“I was a merc for a couple years,” Doc said. Terry gawked. “Yeah, I didn’t tell anyone. I was with the Winged Hussars, and helped them develop marine tactics.”
“I thought marines were for water and stuff.”
Doc laughed and smiled. “These are space marines. More like SEALs in a lot of ways. But SEAL stands for Sea Air and Land. Sea, Air, Land, and Space?”
“SEALaS?” Terry asked. Doc cocked his head and shrugged, making Terry laugh. “Yeah, it doesn’t work, does it?”
“No, not really. And space marines have been talked about in science fiction. It was too cool a name to pass up, I guess. Anyway, I helped develop some tactics to defend ships from boarding, and to board other ships. We trained doing some of that as SEALs. I spent some time with NASA learning zero gravity maneuvering.” He flipped around a couple times, looking like a gymnast. “Afterward I put it all together and then taught the Hussars.”
“That is, no kidding, cool.” Doc shrugged. “Can you teach me some stuff?”
“Like what?” Doc asked, his mannerism suggesting suspicion.
“How to get around better in space,” Terry said.
“Oh, sure. You don’t feel sick at all?”
“No, why?”
Doc nodded. “A lot of people get sick in zero gravity.”
Terry thought about it. His stomach had felt funny since they’d reached orbit, but not sick. He’d figured it was because he missed Yui, and thinking about her took away some of the fun he’d been having. Doc saw his look and frowned. “Let’s go check on your dolphins?”
“I’d rather see the orcas,” he said. Doc nodded and they set out together.
As the two moved through Teddy Roosevelt, Terry watched how Doc moved and began to copy him. The former SEAL seemed to unconsciously plan every single move. He would soar from one handhold to another, often only touching the next handhold before gently pushing onward. It was a ballet. Terry couldn’t do half as well. Still, he tried.
Doc watched him as they proceeded, making suggestions and generally nodding in approval. “All your diving and swimming translates.”
“You’re right!” Terry said as he made a particularly good grab at a passing handhold. Then he missed the next one, and Doc had to snag him before he crashed into a wall. “Well, kinda.” They both laughed.
“You’ll get better.” They continued.
“Have you been on this ship before?”
“Nope,” Doc said.
“Then how do you know your way around?”
“All ships are similar in many ways,” Doc explained. “This is a Kuiper-class, the first Human-made ships. I was on the Donald Trump shortly after it launched in 2031. The later iterations aren’t as ugly as the first one, but it got the job done. They’re working on a new class; Comal Tramp is the name. Those will be hyperspace-capable!”
“This ship is only six years old?” He looked at the beat up interior, the rust spots, bent ladder rungs, and other signs of neglect.
“This ship is more like five,” Doc corrected.
Terry shook his head in amazement. “This thing is trashed.”
“It’s a working ship.” Doc said, “I’ve been on a lot worse down on Earth.” He swung around a corner, and there was a big doorway. “Here we are.” The door said, “Transfer Lock #2.” One of the Teddy Roosevelt crew was manning the hatch and saw them approach.
“Going over to Pegasus?” she asked.
“Yes,” Doc said. “This young man helps care for the whales.”
“Oh, I see,” she said and pressed a button. The big door rumbled and rotated to the side, showing a tunnel to another door. “Press the green button at the other end.”
“I know the drill,” Doc said. She nodded, and they pulled themselves through. At the far end Doc pressed the green button, and the door rumbled back closed behind them. Terry felt his ears pop and put his hands up to them. “Pressure between the two ships equalizing,” Doc explained. The door in front of them moved aside, much quicker and quieter than the other ship’s lock.
Inside stood a pair of men in black coveralls Terry realized was a uniform. Both wore ball caps and there were red stripes down the outside of their sleeves and legs.
“Welcome aboard the EMS Pegasus,” one of them said, a man in his forties. Then he looked closer at Doc and came more erect, not easy in zero gravity. “Lieutenant Commander Abercrombie, sir. Good to see you again.”
“Sergeant Teal,” Doc said.
“Lieutenant Teal now, sir.”
“Congrats, my friend,” Doc said, then looked at Terry. “This gentleman was a new recruit when I started training the Winged Hussars’ marines. How has my training worked out?”
“Great, sir,” Lieutenant Teal said. “We’ve had to make some changes, of course. We had a fight two months ago; a bunch of Zuul tried boarding. They weren’t expecting the hairless monkeys to be able to put up a fight.” The man’s teeth skinned back in a feral smile. “They won’t be expecting anything anymore.”
“Glad to hear it,” Doc said, then gave a little cough and glanced at Terry. “This is Terry Clark, the son of Dr. Madison Clark, head of the science expedition.”
“Hello, Terry,” the marine said. He introduced the marine with him. “I don’t suppose you need directions?”
“No,” Doc said. “Just tell me which docking port has which ship?”
“Kavul Tesh is at dock two, and Kavul Ato is at dock three.”
Terry noted the one they’d come out of was dock one. Doc thanked his old student and set out. Right away Terry noticed the interior of Pegasus was vastly different—in every way—from Teddy Roosevelt. Its corridors were rounded and smooth, the metal carefully painted and tended to. They also curved around the ship. Teddy Roosevelt was like being in a building; everything had right angles. It somehow felt inHuman.
“Different kind of ship, right?” Doc said, looking at him.
“Yeah. Feels weird.”
“It should,” Doc said. “Pegasus was made by aliens before Humans learned the written word.”
“Incredible,” Terry said. It was only a rumor among people. Endless videos talked about the Four Horsemen, speculated, guessed, or sometimes made up stories. They all wanted to know how they survived and flourished. The most commonly speculated on rumors were about the Winged Hussars and their mysterious ship, Pegasus. The most common rumor was they’d made it from parts. That it was entirely alien was not a commonly held belief. The Hussars themselves didn’t talk much, mainly because they weren’t ever on Earth.
Doc led them around the circular corridor. A door to their right said, “Lift #2.” The door opened. Inside was a woman and an alien who looked like a badger. Terry knew the race; they were called Cochkala. The Human had gold stripes on her uniform, the Cochkala blue.
They got out and moved back in the direction Terry and Doc had come from.
A little further on, Terry saw two aliens working on an open panel. One was an elSha, like he’d seen before. The other looked like a big anteater. They both wore clothing appropriate to their races in black, just like the marines, only these two had green stripes. The elSha moved an eye to track them as they went by; the other didn’t seem to notice.
“How many aliens are in the Hussars’ crew?” he asked Doc.
“A lot,” Doc replied. “They have to be at least half Human, according to the Merc Guild, so less than half.”
They walked past one of the other locks. This one was unguarded, with a ramp going up and a ramp going down, and finally another lock’s sign said #3. A pair of marines saluted and opened the door. “This is one of the ships holding your orcas,” Doc said and went inside.
“Why do they always keep the locks closed?” Terry asked.
“Warship,” Doc said. “It’s protocol.”
“But this is Earth; aren’t we safe?”
“Nowhere in the universe is safe,” Doc said.
Terry wondered why he would say such a thing, then realized Doc had been a merc and lost friends in the alpha contracts. He guessed Doc would know as well as anyone else.
The inside lock opened, and they entered the other ship. Kavul Ato, the marine lieutenant had called it. Its interior looked strange, like Pegasus, but different. The curves of the corridors were more unusual, as if whoever had designed it hadn’t had a plan and had just wanted to build something.
Doc wasn’t as familiar with this ship. He stopped the first crewman they encountered, a woman with short brown hair and bright green eyes.
“Where are the whales?” he asked her.
“Main hold,” she said. “Two companionways over there; you’ll see signs.”
“Thanks,” Doc said, and they floated in the indicated direction. It was a good thing there were signs, or they never would have found it.
“Who made this ship?” Terry asked.
“Some aliens,” Doc said. “No clue which ones.”
“Why are Humans using alien ships, anyway?”
“Because we’re still figuring out how to make our own,” Doc said.
The corridor opened through a big hatch into the hold. Inside, a massive glass wall had been installed and the space was completely filled with water. Four orcas floated inside, so Terry knew it was the Shore Pod even before he recognized Kray.
Terry was about to ask what was on their heads but he figured it out. A glass dome with machinery integrated into its rim was somehow stuck to the orcas’ heads. There was no air in the tank, but since there was no gravity, it wouldn’t have mattered. Terry understood—without gravity, the air wouldn’t form a surface, it would just float around the water in bubbles. The apparatus on their head was a rebreather, related to the device Doc had brought them to dive with the previous year.
“Hello, Shore Pod,” Terry said.
The four orcas lazily moved over to the tank wall and looked at him with their huge eyes. “Warden Terry,” Kray said, “you in dark, Shore in dark.”
Terry looked around. The hold was well lit. “It is not dark, Kray.”
“Is dark,” Kray said.
“Is all dark,” Ulybka said. “Beyond.” All four orcas turned to face in different directions.
“In space,” Doc said. “They mean in space.”
“How do they know they’re in space?” Terry wondered aloud. The orcas didn’t answer.
* * * * *
Chapter 3
Hyperspace
July 3rd, 2037
Terry watched in amazement tinged with horror as the orca was born. Dr. Jaehnig, in a wetsuit and using an alien rebreather, assisted the birth. Terry knew in the wild, orca podmates helped in the birthing process. The problem was, none of the orcas were in any position to help.
Just over 36 hours ago Pegasus had gone through Sol’s stargate and into hyperspace. The sensation was a nightmare given birth; you were ripped apart only to be reassembled a heartbeat later. He’d read that philosophers called it a transcendent moment of un-creation/creation. He just thought it sucked. He went through it in his cabin, with his mom. He didn’t want to ever do it again. The crew was unimpressed. Everyone in their group—they now thought of themselves as refugees—felt the same way. Except Doc, of course. He seemed to think it was interesting.
Less than an hour after entering hyperspace, Terry found his way to Teddy Roosevelt’s bridge to stare at the white nothingness of hyperspace. The opposite of normal space, it was the omnipresence of light. It didn’t hurt to stare at it; there was really nothing there.
In school, he’d learned scientists believed the brain was incapable of understanding hyperspace, so it made the white you saw. It was curious, but he didn’t have long to ponder it.
The orcas were becoming restless. He’d gone to Kavul Ato to see. The orcas were swimming around and around their tank, sometimes bumping into the walls, sometimes the glass, sometimes each other.
“Beyond, beyond, beyond!” they were saying repeatedly. They wouldn’t respond to the Humans.
“Shool!” they also said intermittently.
“What do you think?” his mom asked Dr. Orsage, the only one of their number who specialized in cetacean psychology.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe an energy field generated by the ship in hyperspace? It appears to be cumulative.” Moloko, the pregnant female, slammed into the glass divider hard enough to make it vibrate. “We’re going to have to sedate them!”
“That’ll endanger her pregnancy,” Dr. Jaehnig warned.
“If the glass breaks,” one Kavul Ato’s engineers warned, “the surge of water may shatter the bulkhead. A couple million liters of water crashing around...”
“What about the Shore Pod?” his mom asked.
“Same thing!” Doc said, floating in. “But the dolphins are fine. They’re acting like they’re meditating, but otherwise they’re fine.”
His mom turned to Dr. Jaehnig. “Do it. Fast.”
There were two Selroth aboard Pegasus. The Humanoid aliens were aquatic, able to breathe underwater. They looked Human, but with shiny skin, similar to a dolphin, and their heads were hairless, with gills and big eyes. Colonel Kosmalski had agreed to loan them to the institute refugees to help with the cetaceans. They went into the tanks with straps, and with the supervision of Dr. Jaehnig, the process began to sedate the orcas.
The other three were easy; their weight was known precisely, and the correct amount of sedative was administered by the Selroth with a quick jab of a spear-like syringe. Every time they pocked an orca, the huge predator would spin around and try to bite them. Terry gasped, afraid the orcas were about to kill the aliens. However, the Selroth dodged the attacks with ease.
“Much easier to avoid than the Oohobo on our home world,” one said after climbing out of the tank. They were just about to give Moloko her anesthetic when she arched her back and discharged some strange-colored fluid from her genitals.
“Oh, no,” Dr. Jaehnig said. “She’s giving birth.”
The actual birth only took a few minutes. The baby’s flukes came out, and before long, half the body was protruding. The Selroth both jumped into the tank and were joined by four big, strong researchers. The other three members of the Shore Pod were sedated and lolling around in the tank, their rebreathers keeping them safe. Together with the Selroth, the Humans struggled to secure Moloko by hooking dozens of fabric cargo straps around her flukes and midriff.
They managed to restrain her, though only just. The baby burst out in a cloud of blood and amniotic fluids. Terry was unable to stop gawking even as the researchers corralled the baby and slipped one of the dome rebreathers on it.
“It’s a shame,” his mother said, shaking her head. “Just a shame.”
“What?” Terry asked. “The baby looks okay.”
“It does,” she agreed. “Dr. J
aehnig says it’s only a couple weeks premature. But with Moloko crazy like the rest of the orcas, there’s no way the baby can nurse.”
“What does that mean?”
“We might have to euthanize it.”
“Wait,” Terry said, louder than he intended. “You’re going to kill it?”
“It’s going to die, Terry.”
“Can’t you feed it?”
“If we didn’t have nine insane orcas to tend to for another five days, maybe. It’s never been done, though.”
“I’ll do it,” Terry said. He surprised himself; he had no idea what it meant.
“Oh, son...”
“I said I’ll do it.”
“Terry,” Doc said, floating over, “I don’t know much about these whales, but you really don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. There’s no surface, you’ll have to feed it underwater.”
“I know how to dive; you know that. Damnit, don’t let the baby die!” Terry floated over to the tank. The baby looked a lot like its mom, only smaller and chubbier. One of the Selroth was swimming alongside the baby as it tried to nurse. Moloko was spasmodically pumping her flukes, now drugged and unaware of her surroundings. The baby was pushed away without feeding.
Doc looked at his mom, who was exhausted and looked sad. “Could it survive?”
“No orca has ever lived without being able to nurse.”
“Then there’s nothing to lose,” Doc said. Terry’s mom looked surprised at Doc’s approval. In the end, she relented.
“It’s your responsibility,” she said. “The assistants can make the milk—I checked—but they can’t help you feed the baby.”
“I understand,” Terry said, nodding. “I can do it.”
“Okay,” she said, “let’s try.”
* * * * *
Chapter 4
Hyperspace
July 5rd, 2037
The crew of Kavul Ato ended up sealing a small compartment off the main hold for Moloko’s baby. It provided better filtration and improved heat control. Terry spent several hours every day reading research files on rearing orcas. As his mother had said, a baby orca had never been successfully hand raised. The closest was one born in Vancouver Canada 35 years previously. The female calf only lived for 4 months.
