Ocean: The Sea Warriors (14 page)

A number of military ships had been out to sea when the blockade began, and now they approached the living sea barrier from outside it, while additional ships again approached from Pearl Harbor. On the beach, Dirk Avondale identified two destroyers and a guided-missile cruiser approaching from the harbor, along with a nuclear submarine and another cruiser coming from the other direction.

“They’re going to need to do something to keep from hitting themselves in a crossfire,” he said.

Hearing aircraft, Alicia saw fighter jets taking off from Hickam Air Force Base, along with ominous-looking black helicopters with missiles attached to their fuselages. Abruptly, the sub and cruiser on the outside of the barrier line changed course and headed west, while the other three warships continued forward.

Four helicopters flew over Pearl Harbor and then turned back, speeding in a side-by-side formation toward the line of sea creatures, while the warships from the harbor continued their advance., in the same direction.

“Attack helicopters with laser-guided missiles,” Dirk said. “I don’t like this.”

Though Alicia and her companions were standing off to one side of the center of action, and the Admiral and Governor were still on the shore not far away, she felt vulnerable here. But as she thought more about this, she realized that she didn’t care as much about herself as she did about the whales and their companions. She murmured a prayer for the creatures of the ocean who were really her brethren now, because Moanna had christened her as one of them.

The ‘copters launched missiles simultaneously, and they sped toward the point in the line where Alicia had attempted to break through. The weapons made hissing sounds, like snakes in the sky, and struck their mark with terrible force, tearing hideous holes in a sperm whale and sunfish, and creating towers of bloody water over them.

More missiles were fired on each side of that, killing more creatures, and the three warships surged forward. Just when it looked as if they were going to break through, however, a school of blue whales—the largest mammals on the planet—appeared from the sea and reinforced the line, pushing the ships back and forcing them sideways. Then additional sea creatures swam tightly around the ships, so that they were boxed in, and could not move in any direction.

“A clever tactic,” Dirk said. “The creatures sacrificed their lives but gained an advantage of position. Now the military can’t fire on that area, or they’ll hit their own ships. I fear it’s only a temporary advantage, however.”

More whales, along with large sunfish and long-necked plesiosaurs, surged in from deep water where they had been waiting, and gathered around the vessels. Blood ran in the water, and huge, sickening chunks of body parts floated briefly before sinking. All the while, more and more large-bodied sea creatures kept appearing, to replace those who had been killed.

“The Navy and Air Force aren’t going to take this sitting down,” Dirk said. “I’m afraid this is only going to get worse.”

Almost before he had the words out of his mouth, the submarine partially submerged itself, so that only the top of its conning tower could be seen, and it headed toward another portion of the barrier. Before it could reach the barrier, however, or fire any missiles, it was surrounded by plesiosaurs, whale sharks, and blimplike dugongs. The animals used their combined body mass to force the sub to change course, and pushed it several hundred yards out to sea. The sub dove, but the animals dove with it. Finally, the sub surfaced again and floated on the waves, surrounded by a mass of large-bodied sea creatures.

Just then, sailors on the decks of the trapped guided-missile cruiser and destroyers fired rifles at the creatures, and hurled explosives at them, causing more blood to flow, but not freeing their ships.

Alicia heard Fuji Namoto comment on how gallant the whales and other creatures were, like non-violent protesters who kept putting their bodies in harm’s way, despite the risk of being injured or killed. Alicia considered rushing out there herself, and calling for Sea Warrior volunteers to do the same, no matter the danger.

But first she turned to Gwyneth, and demanded, “You’ve got to do something to stop the slaughter!”

Looking very alarmed, the diminutive teenager nodded and finally said, “All right. I agree that this can’t continue.”

She dove into the water and swam toward the line of marine animals, on this side of the ones that were surrounding the naval vessels and preventing them from breaking free. Alicia saw her swimming next to one of the largest blue whales, touching the scarred side of the creature, while seeming to be talking to it. Like a battlefield commander, Gwyneth did this all along the line for a ways, making close contact with dozens of animals of different species. While she was doing this, the gunfire and explosions ceased, as it was obvious that they were of no avail against the immense power of nature arrayed against the naval force.

Perhaps half an hour passed with Gwyneth in the water, continuing to go from animal to animal, but Alicia saw no change in the floating, living barricade. Finally, Gwyneth swam back to shore and walked slowly toward the waiting Sea Warriors. “They moved against the Navy ships on their own, and they’re not responding to me anymore. I can’t get any of them to move an inch. I can’t even stop the new arrivals from coming in, from all over the world. Something has gone terribly, terribly wrong.” She hung her head.

This was indeed a calamity. Gwyneth had started something she could not reverse, and more of the largest creatures in the ocean were headed this way, galvanized into action by the Sea Warriors. To make matters worse, the U.S. Government had a right-wing president, a southerner named Fillmore Vanness—and against such a stubborn, militaristic foe, Alicia feared that all of the creatures in the sea barriers would be killed. It reminded her of the large number of deaths that occurred when whales and dolphins sometimes grounded themselves, either committing suicide or losing their bearings, but this was on a much bigger scale than anything that had ever occurred in history.

In the ranks of the Sea Warriors, no one had any plausible idea of what any of them could do to change the situation. So many things had already been tried. Now in desperation, some of the members proposed risking their own lives by throwing themselves directly into the line of fire from the Navy, as Alicia was considering doing herself.

“I forbid any of you to do that,” Kimo said, shaking his head. “This is not a time for foolish, individual heroics. We need to preserve each of your talents for the sake of the entire ocean. Moanna did not transform you to lose you in suicide missions.”

Jarred by the talk of suicide, Alicia hesitated, and then said, “Maybe I can make stronger waves, but I’m sure it will take time to make them strong enough, the way the sea creatures keep sending in reinforcements. I think we should do something else to begin with, something to deal with our public relations problem.”

“Such as?”

“Rescue the seamen on those warships. We tell Admiral Turner what we want to do, and then swim under the sea barricade and board the ships. We can rescue the seamen one at a time, after fitting them with breathing tanks. There are more than two hundred of us, so we can rescue that many at a time, with each Sea Warrior swimming underwater with a seaman.”

“It’s worth a try,” Dirk said. “Wait here.”

He strode over to Governor Churchill, who was walking up to the parking area with one of his aides, where the Navy brass were already getting into their staff cars. Alicia watched as the two men talked. They looked stiff and businesslike, but at least they didn’t seem to be yelling at each other.

When Dirk returned, he said, “I told the Governor your idea, and he expressed his gratitude.”

“That’s good. So we can begin the operation?”

“Not yet. He said he’d call Admiral Turner and see if something can be set up. He also said that everyone is very upset about the trapped ships. They’re calling it a mass kidnapping of naval personnel.”

“And are they blaming us for that?” Kimo asked.

“Who else?” Dirk said. “One thing more. Assuming we can’t clear the channels, we may need to defend the animals against attacks.”

“But how?” Alicia asked.

He smiled bitterly. “I don’t know. My experience leading fish for military purposes is limited to Navy dolphins. I’ve been thinking about it, though. Marine animals are highly evolved and specialized in order to survive in the ocean, and despite their independent and clever defensive maneuverings against the warships, they do not understand how to fight—at least not in any form of coordinated attack. I have a number of military contacts from my years of service, and maybe we can enlist some of them for strategic and tactical advice We need a think tank.”

“Put out feelers,” Kimo said. “But we only want people we can trust, people who believe in our cause.”

“I understand.”

***

Chapter 17

When Preston Ellsworth drove on the Wanaao Road the next morning, he tried to avoid the largest and most notorious potholes, the ones that bore ominous names such as “Sinkhole” or “Lake Wanaao.” Like other drivers who frequented this road, he had memorized the worst bumps and sections of rough, washboard roadway, and was resigned to the fact that the problem areas would not be repaired for a long time—if ever. Many of the locals liked it that way, saying the rutted, uneven surface kept tourists to a minimum, but he felt exactly the opposite and would prefer a well-paved thoroughfare to bring hotel guests in and out as smoothly as possible. Some of his regulars joked about the condition of the road, but they always did so in an endearing tone, as did the locals.

With a spectacular view of the ocean on one side, and small, metal-roofed homes and fruit stands on the other, he passed the stand that used to be run by Kimo Pohaku, and was now being operated by Billie Hama, a young Hawaiian who once worked as a part-time clerk for Preston at the market he owned in town. A weathered sign read, “FRESH FRUIT.” The old man always thought with irritation about the Pohakus every time he drove by.

The road ran past a macadamia nut farm owned by a famous Olympic athlete, and a large mango grove. With the side window down, he smelled overripe mangoes that were scattered at the side of the road. It had rained the night before, and the deeper potholes still had water in them, and the ground had darker, richer shades of brown than usual. It was warm and humid, with a slight breeze rippling the trees, and the sun starting to peek around puffy rain clouds.

This SUV was not that old and didn’t have many miles on it—less than 25,000. But it handled like a much older car, and rattled along like a teenager’s jalopy. Painted silver, it looked older than its years, too, with rust spots on the body from the salt air, and rusted parts in the fuel system and on the undercarriage of the vehicle. He sighed in resignation. It was one of the prices of living in paradise—or what used to be paradise, before it came under attack from the sea.

Preston hated the most recent developments. He’d already been troubled about the decline in tourism due to the odd behavior of box jellyfish and other sea creatures, and now it was even worse, after that insane Kimo Pohaku led his rabid environmentalists in an assault on the beaches of Hawaii, and then escalated it to encircle every island with a barrier of live marine animals. The old man didn’t believe any of Kimo’s excuses for the barricades, the lie about a rogue member of the Sea Warriors who had gone beyond anything he had intended. The Pohakus had always been crazy, and now they were reaching new depths of lunacy, and broadening their poisonous influence.

For more than two weeks Preston had been worried about the safety of his granddaughter, and he blamed Kimo for luring her into his dark web of influence. As far as Preston was concerned, all of the Pohakus were spawns of the devil, springing forth from Satan’s hellfire to torment the Ellsworths, and now every legitimate businessperson in Hawaii. The ramifications were terrifying. If Kimo could interfere with swimming beaches, and even with boating and shipping, the islands would lose much, and probably most, of their traditional tourist industry.

The Ellsworth Ranch could survive the disaster and even adapt, bringing in tourists by air to see the “world famous” ring of sea monsters in the water—but it would be a circus freak show, instead of the traditional tourism that was based on the spectacular beauty of the islands and their aquamarine waters. Helicopter tours would continue, perhaps even increase, and there would still be backpacking and horseback-riding adventures into the interior valleys and waterfalls, but a large portion of the reason for visiting Hawaii—to swim at its stunning beaches and snorkel or scuba dive in the jewel-like waters—would be gone. The floating barriers ringing the islands were like a theft from him and from the other tourist-related businesses, and from tourists as well. Actually, it was like a
death
—a curtain of darkness that had been drawn down over the most beautiful place Preston had ever seen.

He rattled past tiger-claw trees with blazing red blossoms and entered Wanaao Town, where he came to a stop and waited for a family of tourists to cross the street—two overweight parents and a sunburned daughter. They wore cheap Hawaiian tee-shirts and caps, and obviously were not in the economic class that could afford to stay at his hotel. He could always determine that at a glance. As he waited, he watched a large sailing yacht out on the shimmering waters of the bay, but he didn’t know who owned it, and assumed they were visiting. He always liked to keep track of people in the area who had money.

Preston proceeded to the next block and turned onto a side street where a parking spot was reserved for him beside the Wanaao Central Market—one of the numerous businesses that he owned in the islands. As he climbed out of the vehicle he heard crowd noises, and saw a throng of people gathered in the town park down the street. He went to investigate, walking on a grassy area alongside the street.

He passed a knoll with a covered barbecue area, then made his way down a grassy slope to an expanse of lawn where Easter egg hunts, luaus, and picnic-concerts were customarily held. To his dismay he saw Kimo’s mother, Ealani Pohaku, standing on the wooden stage with a bespectacled Catholic priest and a female minister from the local Congregational church. They were accompanied by four older women who were
kahuna
healers like the wretched Pohaku woman, claiming that they could bless people and properties, to drive away evil spirits. It was all bunk, in Preston’s opinion—a racket and a swindle.

A crowd of townspeople was gathered in front of the stage, sitting on the grass and on portable chairs. Whatever these healers and religious leaders were doing seemed about to begin. Preston found a place to stand on one side, and waited. Many people in the Wanaao region were looking for answers to the ocean and tourism crisis, and were anxious to receive blessings to make their own misfortunes go away. Any time of turmoil and misfortune was a time when charlatans surfaced, like worms crawling out of the ground.

Dressed in a soft gray muumuu decorated with images of Hawaiian flowers, Ealani began, in that earthy, know-it-all voice he had always found so irritating. “Many of you are fearful of what is occurring in the waters of our islands, worried that the gods and goddesses of the sea have turned against our little community. A number of you make your living from the sea, just as my late husband did—and now that you are unable to go out on the water, your income has been drastically affected. You are wondering when the crisis will end. My husband Tiny had a philosophy about fishing, and he always harvested the bounty of the ocean carefully, with great respect. He never overfished an area, or took too many of any species. Tiny taught this way of life to many of you, and I know you have followed his advice, and you share his deep and abiding love for the ocean. It is not your fault that sea creatures have rebelled against human beings; it is not the fault of any native of Loa’kai island, or of any of the other Hawaiian islands, because our people have always respected the waters that have given us so much life, and such incredible beauty.

“No, something else has happened, and it is the fault of outsiders who have plundered the resources of this planet, without regard for the consequences. My friends, the consequences are with us today, and the creatures of the sea are speaking; they will not tolerate any more mistreatment.”

She reached out to the Catholic priest on one side and the Congregational minister on the other, and clasped hands with them, and they in turn held hands with the other
kahuna
healers, on each side.

“For any of you who are in need of personal blessings, we will make the usual appointments—though it will take some time for us to get to all of you because so many are suffering. Until we can make the personal calls, please bow your heads with us now to observe a minute of silence, praying for the welfare of the ocean in any manner you find suitable.”

Preston Ellsworth bowed his head, but did not like her comment about an all-inclusive way of praying, which obviously included any non-Christians in the gathering. He was Catholic himself, and knew the priest, Father Tamblyn, but did not attend church as much as he should, because his business interests kept him so occupied. The good priest was either being duped, or—more likely—he had been forced to live in harmony with local pagan ways, without fully embracing them himself.

After a minute, Ealani gazed out at the vast ocean and said, “The ocean is troubled, and all mankind must listen to what it is saying. Each of us must look deep into our hearts and into our actions, and attempt to do better, to treat the seas of Earth with even greater love and respect than we already have. We can always improve, and each of us must do our small part to make things better.”

What a bunch of rubbish
, Preston thought, bitterly. The Congregational minister was about to speak, but before she did, the old businessman took this opportunity to slip away.

Later that morning, Jeff Ellsworth flew the tour helicopter around the base of the volcano to the more densely-populated western shore of Loa’kai island, only a twenty-minute flight from the other side. The strange floating barrier was all around the island, packed with immense sea creatures, some of which looked like the stuff of legends and fantasy novels, rather than actual living animals. And yet, there they were.

Flying over the water, he used a pair of field glasses to look through the open passenger doorway, and got a view of his exclusive oceanfront condominium unit, the penthouse of a nine-story building. On the garden terrace he saw a bearded man and a woman in a skimpy bikini at a table, where they were being served breakfast by a uniformed waiter.

Jeff sighed, set the binoculars aside and flew on. It irritated him that he could not use the unit himself, or the Ferrari that he loved so much. It was a classic older model that actually had a higher value than the $600,000 he was paying for it, but he was afraid he was about to lose the car, the penthouse, and the whole luxurious life he’d enjoyed on this side of the island. The costs were high for that lifestyle, and he didn’t even have a near-term prospect of getting his hands on the kind of money he needed.

Turning back toward the ranch, he flew over the strange floating barrier that circled the island, passing so low that two ferocious-looking creatures in the assortment of species tilted their long necks to look up as he passed. This was the older amphibious chopper that had a history of mechanical problems, but the engine sounded good, and it was flying well. It was his only option now, because he’d secretly ditched the newer one in the sea, and the matter was being handled by an insurance adjuster. So far the claim was proceeding in a satisfactory manner, and his grandfather was no longer complaining about the high deductible that would be subtracted from his insurance settlement.

In the meantime Jeff hoped this helicopter did not fall out of the sky, and especially not now, because those long-necked monsters looking up at him appeared to be agitated and had mouths full of sharp, glistening teeth. From pictures he’d seen in news accounts, he was certain they were the prehistoric plesiosaurs that had mistakenly been thought to have gone extinct—creatures of the deep that resembled the legendary Loch Ness monster. His sister, involved as she was with the Sea Warriors, was part of all this weirdness—and word had it that she and Kimo were not the only ones who had been transformed into fish people; reportedly they had also recruited more than two hundred volunteers from around the world, and all of them were able to swim underwater as if they’d never walked on land. Jeff had no idea what in the hell was going on, and he didn’t like it any more than his grandfather did. It was creepy; that was the best word he could use to describe the situation. Creepy.

Outside the floating, live-animal barricade, Jeff saw cargo ships, fishing boats, and pleasure craft stranded and going nowhere, just bobbing on the waves. He flew over several of them, noticed that a number of the pleasure boats appeared to be abandoned, with no crews or passengers in sight. The main deck of one sailboat was covered with shorebirds, almost making it look as if they had commandeered the vessel and were about to sail away with it. This gave him an idea, and he wondered what valuables might have been left aboard the boat, and others like it. With his drug income interrupted, he would like to develop an alternate source of income, to supplement the modest salary his grandfather paid him at the ranch.

He considered how to do it. With its pontoons, the helicopter could set down on the water downwind of any anchored boat, and he would then use a long line to tie onto each boat and investigate it. He’d have to get wet swimming from the ‘copter to the boat with the line, and he would need to make sure the rotors stayed away from the boat, but he would be quick, and thought he could manage it. He just needed to find the right targets, far enough away from others that no one would see what he was doing. And he needed a large waterproof backpack to carry any valuables he found.