The Whale Song Translation: A Voyage of Discovery To Neptune and Beyond (44 page)

Dmitri had spent the last four days struggling to assess his predicament, but to hear the harsh reality colored by the dean’s voice felt doubly punishing. Indeed, the seats were arranged as for the proceedings of a tribunal. He sat next to Greg and Andrew on one side of the rectangular conference table spanning the length of the room. Their somber expressions met the stony-faced stares of the panel of six judges seated across the gleaming tabletop. The judge and jury consisted of the deans of math and engineering and two professors from each department. Suits and ties were de rigueur for the occasion.

As Dean Wilson ministered to the preliminary formalities of the distressing conclave, Dmitri felt blessed to be back at SoCalSci rather than languishing in a Maui jail cell. Just three days ago, Gorman had finally located the weekend bail judge and a lawyer who’d finessed a Monday morning arraignment. After they’d pled “not guilty,” their attorney had filed a request for the team’s release in order to return to their jobs. Chris, a pillar in the local community, had not only provided sterling character references for the defendants, he’d also guaranteed their reappearance on Hawaiian soil to attend future legal proceedings. The Research in Paradise team had been granted bail on the day following Gorman’s testimony. To Dmitri’s great relief, the plaintiffs had only identified Andrew, Dmitri, Greg, and Lila as their assailants, and the charges against Melanie and Seema had been dismissed. They’d said their tearful goodbyes, and the SoCalSci team had flown back to California.

Uncomfortable as he was, Dmitri patiently endured the dean’s interminable remarks. He took comfort in the familiar confines of the Engineering Department conference room, having participated in many memorable sessions in this very room. Only a few weeks ago, they’d met here to celebrate their initial “game” breakthrough, yet that seemed to have occurred in another lifetime. He gazed at the framed pictures of historic campus landmarks: the campanile bell tower where he had first kissed his college sweetheart, and the stunning arches, parapets, and terra-cotta-tiled roof of the Mediterranean Revivalist library, where he’d discovered the joy of Shakespeare. He wondered if this was the last time he would set eyes upon these treasures.

“Dr. Dmitri. Dr. Dmitri, are you with us?” The dean’s voice brought Dmitri back to the task at hand. “You’ve been an invaluable member of our department for nearly ten years. Therefore, to give you the benefit of the doubt and before we proceed, we’d like you and your colleagues to give us your personal accounts of the events in Maui.”

During the ensuing ten minutes, Dmitri, Greg, and Andrew recounted their recollections of the incident on the boat. At the conclusion of their testimonials, the dean struck a pensive pose, fingers clasped to his chin. “So even though you admit striking and injuring the plaintiffs, your claim will be self-defense?”

“Yes!” Dmitri’s emphatic rejoinder startled the dean. “They forcibly boarded our research vessel. It was a case of trespassing.”

“But they claim you used weapons.”

“Plastic oars, yes. But I was attacked. My colleagues saved me from serious injury by subduing the skinhead perpetrator.”

“Ok. I’m somewhat sympathetic to your situation, but in the end you’ll have to convince a Hawaiian judge and possibly a jury. What about the claim of a significant experimental breakthrough?”

Dmitri knew it was pointless to say anything about their communication discoveries. Only McPinsky had the data and they’d sworn to maintain his anonymity until the Ivy Tech team had vetted the new information. Even worse, since their return from Maui, they’d been denied access to their office and lab PCs, the repository of the original game data. It was as if there had never been a discovery. He threw both hands up in exasperation. “It’s not possible to explain that as yet.”

When Professor Crandall leaned forward, Dmitri knew what to expect. Crandall was an ally of Prescott’s and had assisted in McPinsky’s ouster from SoCalSci. With his pinched eyes, pointy goatee, and scheming persona, Dmitri bristled at the man’s Mephistophelian vibe. “With no compelling evidence from Dmitri’s team, I have to conclude this so-called breakthrough is nothing more than an unsubstantiated rumor.”

“That’s enough, Crandall,” said Dean Wilson. “Gentlemen, please wait outside. We’ll call you back when we reach a decision.”

Once they’d filed out of the conference room, Dmitri was in no mood to talk to his colleagues. He paced back and forth, his impatient footsteps echoing down the hall. A mere five minutes later, Wilson’s assistant poked her head out the door. “The dean expects you back in the conference room.”

Her tone struck him as blatantly patronizing, and the swiftness of the verdict caused Dmitri’s stomach to cramp. “This is worse than a kangaroo court,” he whispered to Greg.

After they had settled into their seats, Dmitri scanned the jurors’ faces. When most avoided eye contact, he knew the situation was hopeless. Crandall, however, stared Dmitri dead in the eye, practically taunting him with a look of smug satisfaction. Dmitri fought the urge to leap across the table.

Dean Wilson cleared his throat. “Gentlemen . . . we’ve arrived at a unanimous decision. You are to be suspended for the duration of the semester while you deal with your legal matters. We don’t take these actions lightly. We’ve based our decision on a recent precedent established for a similar case in the English Department.” He sighed.

Andrew’s whole body jerked. “But—”

The dean shushed him with a dismissive wave of the hand. “Let me finish, young man. If any or all of you are exonerated, those individuals can resume their positions here beginning in the fall semester. You will not be penalized, academically or financially, for missing the term. However, if any of you are convicted of a criminal offense, we will have to reconsider your long-term standing at SoCalSci. Are there any questions?”

Their grim faces were their only reply. Dmitri and Greg had expected this outcome. In fact, Dmitri was somewhat relieved. Since the tribunal was stacked with anti-McPinsky forces, he’d half expected the worst possible scenario: an immediate termination. It pained him, however, to see Andrew’s crushed expression. He’d do everything in his power to help his student.

Dmitri’s muted voice barely reached across the table. “How long before we have to clear our offices?”

“Since our departments need to staff your positions immediately for the short term, and possibly for the long term, you’ll have to finish by the end-of-day tomorrow,” replied the dean. “Obviously, your replacements need the space.”

Dmitri stared at the pictures on the wall, resigning himself to never seeing them again. He seethed inside. There was no doubt that Prescott’s dirty paw prints could be found everywhere the team had dared to venture. If there was justice in the world, then Prescott would get his comeuppance. He himself would see to it.

* * *

“Thanks for the update, Crandall.” Richard Prescott slipped the cell phone into his pocket. He was very pleased by the dean’s decision. Locking his office door, he thought about how brilliantly he’d handled the situation. In order to prevent retaliation, it was customary for all suspended faculty members and students to surrender their magnetic entry cards to the university’s restricted areas. Dmitri’s team was effectively quarantined from the computers and data storage devices in the Signal Processing Lab. There would be no evidence to confirm the absurd “discovery” of a communication breakthrough with humpback whales.

In one master stroke, he’d succeeded in eliminating all vestiges of Theodosius McPinsky’s legacy from the SoCalSci campus. The man’s irresponsible pronouncements had embarrassed the university and plagued him personally, forcing him to labor countless overtime hours as a damage-control specialist in order to stem the public’s outrage. From now on, it would be business as usual in the hallowed halls of his beloved university. He whistled a cheery tune on his stroll out to the parking lot.

P
ATERNAL
C
ONDOLENCES

SoCalSci University, Los Angeles, California

After the hearing, Dmitri returned to his office to pack his things. He felt both depressed and nostalgic. Years of lecture notes, publications, and mementos of trips to far-flung conferences had settled into every nook and cranny of the snug workspace. It felt more like a home than an office. Two hours later, after he’d combed through the stacks of memorabilia, he heard the mobile’s “dueling sitars” ringtone.

“Dmitri, my boy. I just heard the news through the grapevine, and I want to express my condolences.”

McPinsky’s paternal voice infused Dmitri with renewed hope. “Yes, we’ve been suspended, but I suppose it could have been worse. When you’ve announced the news of our discovery, maybe they’ll reinstate us. Are you close to a confirmation?”

McPinsky’s prolonged silence unnerved him. “Professor, are you still there?”

McPinsky took an audibly deep breath. “That’s the reason I called, son. The data has disappeared. There won’t be any confirmation.”

Dmitri felt dizzy. “Tell me this isn’t happening.”

“I’m afraid it’s true. All of the whale song files on my home and office PCs have been erased. It’s the same for the data here in our lab. It’s over.”

Dmitri wanted to scream. “Is it Prescott? Or the Navy? Who else?”

McPinsky’s tone was grave. “It’s probably all of the above and more. We’re up against something bigger than we can possibly cope with.”

“But—”

McPinsky interrupted him. “I should have arranged for tighter security.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Maybe we can do another experiment next year?”

“But I’ll have no job. I might even be in jail.”

“I’ll do my absolute best to prevent that from happening and, if you’d like, I’m sure I can find you a position here at Ivy Tech.” McPinsky paused, apparently waiting for a response.

Dmitri massaged his brow, fingers pressed against closed eyelids, his gloom filling the silence.

“It’ll be like old times.” His mentor was clearly masking despair of his own. “Look, I know how you feel, Dmitri. My departure from SoCalSci left me devastated, feeling quite sorry for myself.”

“That damned Prescott,” Dmitri yelled. In a contrite tone, he said, “Sorry, Professor.”

“Yes, I raged about him. And the others. But then I did something that lifted my spirits. Coincidently, you have an opportunity to partake of the same salutary experience.”

“What?”

“I attended a lecture by my hero and spiritual mentor. Helped to chase the blues away.”

“Who’s that?”

“He was recognized at the age of seven by the monks of Khutan as the reincarnation of their spiritual leader.”

“Ah, you mean Lama Dawa Cham. He’s here in L.A.?”

“He’s appearing in the Grand Auditorium at Cal University on Saturday night.”

“Professor, that’s a wonderful suggestion, but, under the circumstances, I’m just not in the mood.”

“Dmitri, you’ve been like a son to me, and I can never thank you enough for the gift of this discovery. Please indulge me in a bit of fatherly advice.”

“Yes.” Dmitri could barely speak. McPinsky’s words meant the world to him.

“Just trust me. Lama Dawa Cham is a very wise man with an uplifting message. I’ve made the arrangements for you, Greg, and your students. Your tickets will be waiting at the will-call booth.”

“Yes, Professor. I’ll think about it.”

“Now I’ve got to go. It’s my duty to inform Gorman and his team about what’s happened to the data.”

“Oh, God,” replied Dmitri. “He’ll be devastated. Another dead humpback washed ashore in Maui last weekend. I should contact Greg, Seema, and Andrew.”

“I’m so sorry this happened,” replied McPinsky.

“Like you said, it’s just the few of us against an army of resistance. You’d better make that phone call.”

* * *

After he’d hung up, McPinsky felt guilty about the half-truths he’d told Dmitri. He was particularly unnerved by Dmitri’s strong reaction, the pain in his voice. Under the circumstances, however, there had been no other choice. He’d had to sound convincing, as his phone was undoubtedly bugged. And he needed to buy a bit more time so he could be of use. For years, he and Dmitri had shared a unique bond, almost like father and son. He desperately wanted to help him through this ordeal. And it might be possible. He had an idea.

H
IGH-
T
ECH
S
ATORI

California University Grand Auditorium, Los Angeles, California—Saturday night

“What the hell are we doing here? As much as I respect Professor McPinsky, I’m no fan of swamis and gurus.”

Greg’s somber assessment reflected Dmitri’s own dark mood. Craning his neck for a panoramic view of California University’s Grand Auditorium, Dmitri saw the steady stream of Lama Dawa Cham devotees spilling down the aisles and settling into the auditorium’s two thousand seats.