Black and White

by Mark Wandrey

  “You’ve never explained where we’re going to live here,” Terry said and looked back at his mother. The landscape outside was dim, almost like twilight back on Earth. They were now only a kilometer above the ice, and he could see the laser-created plain wasn’t as flat as he’d thought. It, too, was a cracked mess of mini hills. It looked like the ice fields in Antarctica they’d studied in school, where the icebergs were born. “Are we living in those buildings?”

  “They’re automated,” his mom explained. “They’re fusion power plants and big heat sinks.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  She looked uncomfortable when she continued, “The power plant provides power to the mining and habitat facilities. Instead of dumping excess heat into the atmosphere, they dump it into the water you see via specialized heat exchangers. The exchangers heat the water and keep it liquid at the cost of 100 megawatts constant output.”

  “But why are they doing it?” he asked, feeling frustrated.

  “Because it maintains a 19-kilometer cylinder of liquid water,” Doc said, “which is the only access to the habitat and mining facilities.”

  Terry’s brow furrowed as he tried to put the statement into context. Below them the facilities were coming into better view. A huge powerplant, like the fusion plants being built on Earth, dominated the largest part. He’d been wrong—the facility wasn’t built on the ice; it was floating at the edge of the roughly circular lake of water. On the edge of the floating buildings was a ring of large landing pads and blocky structures. Nowhere for people to live, and no sign of vehicles.

  Under two kilometers of ice, he finally realized. “We’re living under the ice?” he asked, hoping he’d misunderstood.

  “Yes,” his mother said. Terry looked horrified. “Before you freak out, think about it. How is that so different from living in a spaceship, which you’ve been doing for almost seven months?”

  “It’s very different, Mom,” he said.

  “It’s different for the cetaceans, too,” she retorted, which brought him up short. “We’re here because of them. For good or ill, all this has transpired for their welfare. We’ve been trying for half a year to find a place for them to live. This is the best we can do.”

  “I’ve been all over this arm of the galaxy,” Doc said. “There are a few better planets, maybe, but they’re all colonized, and would be problematic for us.”

  “This planet’s ecology and ocean’s chemical structure is almost ideal,” Dr. Jaehnig said. The senior staff had been listening in the back of the passenger area. “We’ve been giving the cetaceans a drug therapy treatment designed to get them acclimated to the planet’s ocean.”

  “That’s why you built the submersible,” Terry said, looking at Doc.

  Doc nodded. The man was watching him closely, the ever-present appraisal stare Terry had seen him use so many times.

  “What’s the long-term plan?” Terry asked. He could tell by her expression his mother was caught off guard by the question.

  “We get the cetaceans established, try to find a way for them to care for themselves in this environment, and if it works out, we consider going home to face the music.”

  “Won’t they know where you’ve taken the cetaceans?”

  “Unlikely,” Doc said. “We used cash for everything, including these ships. The ships the Winged Hussars loaned us won’t tell anybody where they went after Karma. Colonel Kosmalski assured us. As far as the rest of the universe is concerned, we simply disappeared.”

  Terry thought of baby Pōkole. What would happen to him if they were forced to return to Earth or were captured and brought back forcibly? Would he be killed like the adults, or end up in a side show? Child of the whale freaks.

  “Then we’ll figure out how to make it work,” he said. His mom smiled and hugged him.

  “I’m glad you’re on board,” she said. “You’re our IT expert, you know.”

  He snorted but smiled. “I’m learning,” he said.

  “And we want you to keep learning,” Dr. Jaehnig said. “I’ll need some expertise if we’re to implant the devices into Pōkole.”

  “You’ve decided then?” Terry asked, excited now.

  “We were still considering,” the doctor admitted. “It was Moloko who decided for us. She asked when her calf would get the implants. We said we were waiting to discuss it with her. She said the pod had agreed it would be good to do so sooner, rather than later.”

  “Surprisingly forward thinking for the orcas,” Dr. Orsage said. “I’ve noticed as time has gone by, they’re increasingly analytical in their thinking.” She looked at Terry and pointed at him. “We need to learn more about these pinplants, so we can better understand their effects. We’re depending on you, young man.”

  “I will,” Terry said. Despite only being 12 years old, he felt 12 feet tall.

  “Prepare for landing,” the Bakulu pilot’s voice said through their translators as the transport began a slow turn and started its landing sequence.

  It took two trips of the lighter transport to bring down all the staff and their dependents. Terry had forgotten how many of them there were. He did his classes remotely because of other responsibilities, and he usually ate with his mom or Doc, and sometimes the other mercs. The small topside station, designed mainly for maintenance and providing just a few cots and assembly areas, was jam-packed with over 100 people.

  The buildings next to the landing pads were stores, warehouses, and submarine pens. In the latter were their way to get down to their new homes. The cetaceans had been undergoing pressure acclimation for the last two days. The only one who wouldn’t immediately be ready to dive down was Pōkole, who couldn’t be separated from Terry yet due to feeding requirements.

  The surface temperature was cold. Deadly cold. An unprotected Human would be instantly incapacitated; their eyes would freeze in a fraction of a second, skin in another second. They would be dead in under a minute. It was only 5 degrees kelvin above the temperature of liquid nitrogen. They all wore protective suits, like space suits, but without the need to compensate for vacuum. Tina called them hot pockets.

  Having to spend a couple of minutes getting into a spacesuit for a one-minute walk from the landing transport to a building seemed like a waste of time, at least until he got into one and went outside. The suit’s incredibly powerful heaters made it feel like he was in a rotisserie oven the second he turned them on.

  “Do not turn off the heaters!” Doc warned them. He and his Last Call mercs were escorting them in groups of 10, as they only had 20 suits, and were keeping a few in reserve. “If you get a red light on your suit heaters, yell out immediately. You’ll only have a few seconds before frostbite sets in.”

  “Will Pōkole be okay?” Terry asked.

  “He’ll be warmer than we are. Ready?” Everyone nodded.

  Even through the visors, Terry could see everyone’s eyes wide with concern. He thought he probably looked the same. Despite the searing heat from the suit, he bit his lip and waited as the lock cycled. A second later it opened, and the cold hit them.

  Terry had been skiing a couple of times on Mauna Kea during the winter. He remembered how cold he’d been after several hours in the snow. It seemed to seep into his very bones. That was exactly how he felt after just a couple seconds of Hoarfrost’s cold.

  He coughed and gasped from the impact, and his suit instantly went to full power. He hadn’t realized the heater wasn’t on 100%. He guessed full power outside the cold of Hoarfrost might have been as dangerous from the suit as it would be from the cold. As it was, the heaters pushed back the deadly chill to only a numbing cold.

  They were all jogging by the time they ran into the building and through the double doors. Doc patted him on the back. “Good job.”

  “This is insane,” he said to the merc.

  Doc laughed in reply. “Young man, this isn’t even winter here. Wait until we’re behind Lupasha 1 for a week, and no sun reaches the moon. Pools of liquid
nitrogen form, and the fusion plant can’t keep the ice clear.”

  “I didn’t think I’d be this excited to dive down two kilometers under water,” Terry admitted.

  “Soon,” Doc said. “Soon.”

  Once all the people were down and safe in the buildings, landing the cetaceans could begin. Terry watched through the building’s heated glass and a video feed under water as the heavy transport landed directly in the water. The cargo door opened, and out came the first five orcas. He recognized them as Wandering Pod.

  The five sleek black and white orcas shot out of the cargo hold of the transport in a flurry of flashing flukes, which could only be described as pure joy. Around and around they circled each other, bumping and rubbing, rolling on their sides and looking up at the surface.

  “Aren’t they in danger?” Terry asked. “The cold.”

  “The water is around -10 degrees Celsius,” he said and smiled. “Not too cold for an orca, from what I hear.”

  Terry nodded. That was true, of course. The water at the institute was kept at -2 degrees, not because it was ideal, but because it was expensive to refrigerate it. The water in the ship had been held at 0 Celsius. The arctic sea water could get considerably colder. The orcas were ecstatic.

  He wondered what they would do. They’d been in captivity all their lives. None of their whales had ever been in the wild before. Would they run, or do something crazy? Instead, after their celebration, they simply waited.

  A few minutes later the other transport landed in the water again. This was the one that had brought the Humans down. It opened its ramp just below the surface, and the bottlenoses shot out. It was like watching a machinegun firing dolphins. The ramp was narrow enough they were forced to go single file. Even so, all 19 were in the water in less than a minute. Unlike the orcas, they didn’t spend their exuberance quickly. When the final big transport landed 15 minutes later, they were still racing around each other, around the orcas, and playing with half-submerged pieces of ice.

  The doors opened on the last transport, and the five orcas of the new super pod raced out to join the others. It was the first time all nine adult orcas were together. Terry saw Dr. Orsage watching and, of course, taking notes.

  The orcas swam next to each other, touching fins and brushing against each other. Then, almost before he realized it, two were fighting.

  “What do we do?” he barked in surprise.

  “Nothing,” his mom said.

  “We were expecting this,” Dr. Orsage said. “They’re deciding who’s in charge.”

  Terry looked closer at the video image to try to figure out who was fighting. He thought it was Ki’i and Kray, the biggest males of each pod. Before he could be sure, it was over. Then he was sure it was the two he’d guessed when they swam side-by-side past the camera. Kray was in the lead, and Ki’i had a line of dark rakes down one side.

  “Is he okay?” Terry asked.

  Dr. Jaehnig was examining the footage. “Yes, it isn’t serious. Common in wild orcas. Nothing more than a minor argument.”

  Terry looked at the deep gouges, which were bleeding, and shook his head. He hoped they never had a serious argument.

  “There might only be one pod now,” Dr. Orsage said, then shrugged. “We’ll find out when we meet them down at the habitat.”

  Almost as if they’d been listening, all nine orcas formed into a line and slowly began spiraling down into the dark, dark depths. Thin lines of bubbles trailed from their rebreather domes and were soon gone from view, leaving no evidence they were ever there. As had been arranged, they would spend the next 36 hours slowly diving down the two kilometers to the habitat. It would give their bodies the time they needed to acclimate to the intense pressure.

  The people left the gathering area and moved down a hall into a cavernous hangar. Inside were three cylindrical submersibles, each surfaced in a berth. Terry saw some of the staff were already removing cables and climbing inside. Soon lights came on as the vehicles came to life. Many in their entourage looked at the craft with mixed feelings. The younger children crowded around their parents. The older ones, like Terry, tried to look brave.

  His mom and Doc led him to the closest one. People were loading what gear they could aboard. Most of the non-passenger space was being used by the module that held Pōkole, a long cylindrical container on wheels. The calf was asleep from a mild tranquilizer. Not much extra room would be available with so many people to transport down. The staff designated as pilots for the submersibles would take them back up after everyone was down and bring down gear the transports had gone back to space to get. Honcho from Doc’s team was driving their sub.

  They’d all said their goodbyes to the captains and crew of Teddy Roosevelt, Kavul Tesh, and Kavul Ato. As soon as the last load of equipment was offloaded, they would head for the stargate and the next job.

  Captain Baker had wished him luck and given Terry a computer chip with some data to study on ships’ computer systems. Baker thought he might make a good ship’s computer officer someday. Terry took the data, of course, but he had no interest in being a ship’s officer. Space was cool enough, sure. However, after half a year floating around the cosmos, he didn’t think he’d want to do it for the rest of his life.

  The submersible sealed up, and everyone managed to find a place to sit. Terry got to stay up front and had a view out of the super dense plastic windows as they dove under the waves. It was an alien-manufactured vessel, and looked quite high tech.

  They maneuvered out of the submarine pen and out into the open, then Honcho programmed the vessel and it began its long, long dive. Doc’s watch beeped, and he looked at it.

  “Midnight,” he said. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Oh, right,” Terry’s mom said. “I’d almost forgotten.” She looked at Terry and frowned. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t able to get you anything this year.”

  “That’s okay,” he said. “At least we’re together.” She looked at Doc, and they both nodded.

  Dozens of people were crowded in the back, and someone sang, “The First Noel.” Soon, they were all singing along as best as they could. Terry watched out the big windows. The subs lights were on, and he saw they were passing the orcas, slowly circling down into the night. The sub hummed with the sounds of singing.

  Outside, the orcas seemed to be singing as well. Terry’s translator didn’t render any of it into English, except one word—Shool. As they descended into the abyss, the whales’ song provided a mournful counterpoint to the hymns.

  * * * * *

  Part 3 – Exile

  Chapter 1

  Hoarfrost, Lupasha System, Coro Region, Tolo Arm

  January 4th, 2038

  Terry rolled over in his bunk and stretched. After a week, his joints no longer ached with every movement. Unlike the cetaceans, the Humans hadn’t been getting treatments to live at the extreme depths of their new home. Their bodies weren’t designed to live at such depths. Orcas had been observed to dive more than 300 meters. That was nothing compared to the 2,000 meters of ice over their heads.

  “I wish the place didn’t smell like rotten fish,” he said as his feet hit the deck. As usual, it was cold. He was always cold. After a lifetime in Molokai and always being warm, he thought they should have named the place Hell. He’d learned in school that the Vikings believed in a frozen hell, not a hot one. Made sense if you lived in the icy north.

  The room’s lights came on to show the stark grey walls. He had his own room again, 28.8 cubic meters of opulence. His bunk, a little desk, a chair, and a toilet that wasn’t shaped for his butt. The toilet also converted into a shower, but it only sprayed cold water.

  He went into the bathroom and washed up a bit, brushed his teeth, and used the toilet. The mirror was a highly polished piece of stainless steel. It worked well enough.

  One level down, and he was in the mess hall. The sun wasn’t visible to them, so day and night cycles had been established to match what they’d been used to on Mol
okai. Since it was breakfast time, the place was crowded. Conversations bubbled all around, some quiet, some loud. A few laughed, a couple cried. Adjusting to the pressure was a personal process. Not everyone experienced it the same way.

  His mom came in and made her way over to him, standing in the food line. She was smiling, which got his attention. “What’s up?” he asked.

  “They got the first set of heaters working.”

  “Oh, thank god!” he said. “When?” She pointed up, and he tracked her gesture. A series of fabric tubes the engineers had strung the day they arrived in the hopes the heating system worked as planned had sat, unmoving, for days. As if her gesture was the cue, they began to billow, then stiffened. The first breeze of warm air blew across his face.

  All around the room people looked up, some in confusion, many in amazement. They all wore just about every piece of clothing they had with them in order to keep warm. The habitat’s atmosphere processing and basic power systems created enough heat to keep it from being freezing inside, but nobody in their right mind would call 10 degrees Celcius warm. They’d also been sleeping in shiny reflective space blankets to keep warm.

  “Warm air!” someone yelled. A wave of applause rippled across the room, which quickly grew to loud cheering, and then a standing ovation. Terry’s mom patted him on the shoulder and walked up to the front of the room where a low stage sat. The mess hall was also their meeting room, currently. When the people saw her, they fell silent.

  “The staff hasn’t had much sleep the last week,” she said, “as I’m sure you all know.” The door opened, and three people walked in, all looking oily and tired. “I think we owe Melissa and her men a round of applause.”

  The three new arrivals stopped in their tracks as everyone in the room applauded them, many yelling their thanks. The leader, Melissa, waved her hands to stop the applause. “This is just the start,” she said. “We have the power transfers working properly now, so we’ll have all the rest of the regular support systems working in short order.” More applause. “But first we’d like some food, and some sleep.”