The Whale Song Translation: A Voyage of Discovery To Neptune and Beyond (40 page)

After a brief reprieve, they were blasted by a second wave of noise and torment. Gradually, another layer of sound leaked into Dmitri’s throbbing consciousness. Uber had initiated a new broadcast. A continuous variation of the same theme, it seemed more songlike than the punctuated phrases of his earlier vocalizations. Above all, Dmitri was struck by the song’s sense of urgency.

Melanie’s shove startled Dmitri, who turned to see two monstrous humpbacks racing toward them. He embraced her without hesitation, placing himself in the path to absorb the initial impact, thinking to prolong her existence by the gift of a millisecond. An instant before their imminent annihilation, the whales deftly adjusted course, slewing their massive bodies in a sideways motion. The compression wave generated by their arcing trajectory sent the four humans plummeting deeper. Dmitri and Melanie clutched one another as they tumbled. Opening his eyes, Dmitri was amazed to see they’d been shepherded to the same location as the distressed calf, still clinging to its mother’s flank.

Through pulses of pain and the backdrop of Uber’s opus, Dmitri observed the pod’s purposeful movements. They grouped together in pairs. The pairs then distributed themselves equidistantly and symmetrically in a circular formation, surrounding the congregation of the humans, the calf, and its mother. Each of two diametrically-opposed pairs propelled forward, sweeping a great circular arc around their designated circumference in the formation. Clasping Melanie’s hand, Dmitri stared in wonder as the whales orbited around them. To his astonishment, the individuals within each pair, like acrobats, spiraled around an imaginary axis between one another and deposited, in their wake, a braid of bubbles in the pattern of a double helix. Melanie and Dmitri twirled as one in the twisting currents.

This guild of weavers had fashioned an effervescent shield that encompassed the four humans, the mother humpback, and its calf inside of a huge, spherical cocoon. The singing Uber hovered near the surface and above the pod, so he too was sheathed in bubbly foam. Each of the whale pairs was partially shielded by the mini-shell of a sparkling white cloud as they arced and rotated through the bottom hemisphere.

Glimpsing Gorman’s thumbs-up gesture, Dmitri realized he was nearly pain-free and that the whale calf’s distress cries had waned to a whimper. Straining to see through the veil of bubbles, Dmitri craned his neck and turned a full three-hundred-sixty degrees to admire the intricate coordination of the humpbacks’ movements. They’d endowed the net with a recursive geometric sophistication, reminding him of an Escher construct. Thinking who would believe this, Dmitri reached for the minicam and joined Lila and Chris in the struggle to document this Neptunian ballet of the giants.

* * *

On the surface, the crew on the Coast Guard cutter reacted as the sea boiled all around their vessel. “What the heck?” said the lieutenant commander. “I thought those whales had disappeared. Suspend the order to board.”

“Yes sir,” replied the lieutenant.

* * *

Back underwater, the whales maintained their protective umbrella as the grating, machine-like sounds continued to torture the sea. When the on-and-off cycle of sonic violence had finally ceased, the humpbacks remained in formation until the abrupt finale to Uber’s vocalizations.

With the restoration of silence and as twilight faded into dusk, the Megapteran entourage ultimately dispersed. As they drifted off into the darkness, Gorman’s pointing gesture was the signal to return to the boat. As the quartet ascended, the calf returned for an encore, weaving in and out amongst the humans in a celebratory farewell. Then she was gone.

After Dmitri had broken the surface, he felt drained beyond exhaustion. Each step up the ladder rekindled memories of a long-ago, oxygen-deprived ascent to the top of Mount McKinley. Crawling onto the deck, he was shaken by the amplified tones of a human voice and the reminder that they were no longer shielded by the humpback flotilla. “This is the U.S. Coast Guard. Prepare to be boarded.”

The buddy system of Chris, Greg, and Andrew assisted Melanie, Lila, and Dmitri in the removal of their gear. Seema distributed towels. Once they’d changed into dry clothes, they hustled inside to assess their predicament. Seema addressed Melanie, who appeared dazed. “Everything was going fine until we were blasted by the crazy racket beneath the boat and through the speakers.”

“After we peeled back the edge of the video screen, we were scared stiff to see you clutching your heads,” Greg added. “Then you just disappeared from our view through the glass window. What the heck happened down there?”

Andrew held a dive mask aloft. “Why is there blood on all your masks?” he asked.

“Are you ok?” McPinsky’s voice echoed from the speakers.

“Those SOBs.” Gorman was livid. “Those explosive sounds had to be the Navy’s sonar. We just confirmed the rumors about their recent tests in Hawaiian waters.”

“Did you notice the pain stopped after they wrapped us in their bubble net?” added Melanie.

Gorman nodded his agreement. “Yes, it makes complete sense. The air in each bubble deflects and attenuates the mechanical energy of the sound waves.”

“They shielded us,” said Lila, with reverence in her voice.

“And the calf too,” added Melanie. “They protected us as one of their own.”

“From an attack by members of our own species,” said McPinsky, “like the Red Cross aiding refugees in a war zone.”

No one spoke. From the soul-searching stares, Dmitri knew that everyone was as overwhelmed as he.

Gorman finally broke the silence. “It’s bad news for the Navy. We can publicize the details of these defensive countermeasures to compromise their sonar program.”

“But we’re about to be seized, and the proof along with us,” replied Andrew.

“Aren’t the audio files fully transmitted to McPinsky?” Greg asked him.

“Gimme a sec,” replied Andrew, typing commands on his workstation. “Sorry, but I warned you the link was slow, and I never thought we’d collect so much data. It’ll take at least another fifteen minutes.”

“Damn!” replied Dmitri. “We might not have enough time before the Coast Guard confiscates the ship. Unless we transmit the evidence to McPinsky, this ‘
Crack in the Cosmic Egg
’
event could be all for naught.”

Andrew spoke quickly. “For my undergrad thesis, I developed some data compression routines that exploit fractional bit redundancies in non-ASCII datasets. They’re still on my laptop and ready to go. It’ll cut the time in half to compress and transmit the video files. Seven minutes tops.”

“That’s fantastic, Andrew,” replied Dmitri. “We’ll keep the sea dogs at bay until you’re done. Are you ready, Professor?”

“This is really crucial, son,” replied McPinsky. “I need to deliver that Speakeasy data into the hands of our Ivy Tech mathematicians.”

“Professor,” added Andrew. “I’m also sending a file to do the decompression. You’ll need it to expand the data file to its original format.”

“After I receive the data,” said McPinsky, “I highly recommend you erase the files on your workstations so they don’t fall into the wrong hands.”

Dmitri directed an anguished expression at Greg. Then, with a slashing motion across the side of his throat, he nodded his assent to Andrew.

“And no matter how demoralizing these next few days seem,” added McPinsky, his voice getting louder, “don’t tell a soul about the data until I go public. We’re dealing with ruthless foes, hell-bent on seizing our data to preserve their status quo existence.”

Mark clung to his mother’s waist. “Mom, what’s he saying? Why is he so angry?”

Melanie hugged him. “It’ll be okay, sweetie. I might have to go away for a short time, but Chris will take care of you until we sort things out.”

“Absolutely,” replied Gorman. “Don’t fret, Mark. You’ll see your mom again real soon.”

Melanie flashed her son a tenuous smile, and the boy relaxed his grip.

“Lila,” said Gorman, “why don’t you, Melanie, and Seema stay inside and figure out a hiding place for the cameras’ memory cards.”

“No problem, Chris.”

“If the file transfers aren’t done by the time we return,” he continued, “we’ll need to buy more time.”

Seema stepped forward. “I have acting experience. I’ll create a diversion.”

“Thank you, Seema,” replied Gorman. “Hopefully, it won’t be necessary.”

As Andrew assailed his keyboard, Chris, Greg, and Dmitri shuffled outside to greet the boarding party. The Coast Guard was very efficient in the execution of their duties. They’d already cleated their lines to secure the
Research in Paradise
to their cutter. A group of five had transferred across and stood at attention on the lower deck.

An impressively appointed officer, wearing a sopping-wet dress white uniform and a smug expression, stepped forward. “I’m Lieutenant Commander Richard Fulton of the U.S. Coast Guard.”

“Why do you all look like you drove through a carwash with your top down?” asked Greg.

Fulton’s authoritative air vanished. “One of those goddamned whales breached over the prow of our vessel. Drenched us all.”

Greg clapped his hands and turned to Dmitri. “Add one more item to the list of today’s discoveries: humpbacks have a highly evolved sense of humor.” He doubled over with laughter.

“Hey, wise guy,” replied Fulton, punching an index finger into Greg’s midsection. “You think that’s so funny. Well, guess what. I’m about to have the last laugh. You’ve been charged with assault and battery and flight from the scene of a crime.” Fulton’s rigid posture made it evident he was accustomed to giving, rather than receiving, orders. With a contemptuous flick of his wrist, he extracted a sheet of paper from his pocket and read from the page. “We’re here to take the following individuals into custody: David Dmitri, Gregory Bono, Andrew Chu, Seema Roy, Melanie Mari, Lila Lawson, and whoever is piloting this vessel.” His voice suddenly sounded more collegial. “By the way, those were very unusual circumstances that prevented us from approaching you earlier. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Gorman stepped forward. “I’m the director of the Pacific Institute for Cetacean Educational Studies. I chartered this vessel for the purpose of researching the unique behavior you’ve just described. Since I spoke with the boat’s owner as recently as this morning, I’ve no reason to believe he would file those charges. Why don’t you give me a few minutes to contact him and resolve the situation?”

“The charges against these individuals were filed by three injured parties in Maui, not by the owner of the boat.”

“What the heck?” replied Dmitri. “We were defending ourselves. They attacked us first. Look at this.” He tapped an index finger to his black eye.

“That’s a nasty shiner,” replied Fulton, “but I have my orders. You can sort this out back on shore. Now please follow us so we can detain the remaining suspects on our list.”

They filed inside to the Speakeasy control center. Less than five minutes had elapsed since Andrew had been left to his devices. The file transfer process was still in progress.

The Coast Guard commander emerged from his pack of men. He looked disapprovingly from one person to another, and said, “You’re all under arrest. Please follow me outside.”

Mark marched up to Fulton and glared at him. “Stay away from my mom!”

“I’m sorry, son, but I have my orders,” said Fulton. “What are
you
doing here?”

“Don’t worry,” said Gorman. “I’m not on your arrest list, and I’m the boy’s guardian.” He grasped Mark’s hand and brought him back to Melanie.

“Oh no, I’m going to be deported!” Seema declared, sounding truly aghast. “My family will be ashamed of me!” She burst into tears.

“Calm down, ma’am. Just compose yourself.” Fulton reached into his pocket and offered a handkerchief.

But Seema unleashed a torrent of sobs. To the commander’s chagrin, the hanky was soon soaked in the residue of her apparent grief. She milked her performance until Andrew flashed a signal to indicate that the all-important file transfers to McPinsky had been completed. He stood directly in front of the workstation, facing the Coast Guard team. With the keyboard shielded behind him, he furtively curled his right hand behind his back. He took a deep breath and, with a delicate stroke of his pinky finger, pressed the
ENTER
key to initiate the program that erased the precious files.

L
AST
G
ASP

U.S.S
San Fernando
, Leeward Waters, Maui

What exactly the heck was happening? wondered Captain Pierce Bogan on the command deck of the U.S.S.
San Fernando
. He’d executed his orders to the letter. The ship had advanced to the designated coordinates. The crew had initiated the five-minute test sequence program at half of maximum power. Ping duration was six seconds, repeated every thirty seconds. Whoever had organized this operation must have known what they were looking for, he thought. Immediately after the first ping, the display had lit up like a Christmas tree. At least forty large sub-targets, each approximately ten to fifteen meters in length, appeared as a constellation of bright amber blips against the sonar display’s dark background.