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EXCERPTS
The ocean began to buckle and split apart as one after another four darkly ominous masses exploded through the surface. The lead animal was fifty-two feet in length and weighed-in at ninety-six thousand pounds. They somersaulted away, vanishing as quickly as they had appeared. Whorls of turbulence remained like footprints of unseen giants. Now descending fast and far below, they knew that their perilous trek north was over.
Jaspers stared at the window. “A few of us have done most of the work. Lilly in the Baja, Bolger Crane in Alaska, Clinton Borman in the Southern Ocean. I have what I need, now, exactly. You saw it, state of the art equipment, a topnotch research team.”
“What the hell happened?” Ethan leaned forward.
“Politics and money.” His leathered face studied the ceiling. “Country’s shifting away from basic research. Whales don’t stack up with missiles and Stealths.”
“Ah, you’re back, good. Meet Dr. Powell. Ethan, this my research director, Dr. Bryce Roundtree.”
A stone effigy glared down at him. A triangular scar, etched deeply above his right eye, gave his mahogany forehead a threatening character. Another, a long silver lightening bolt, cut savagely through his left eyebrow to a hooked insertion point just behind the tip of his mustache. His eyes seemed distant and devoid of warmth.
Emotional powder kegs everywhere, two or three already sputtering: Jaspers and the girl, the enforcer Roundtree, death of the project. Talking to whales in the fucking middle of the ocean? Jaspers himself could be the number one issue. Oh boy! In the background the motorcycles were firing up. Loopy place, Ethan thought. Bikies and science? Walk away, Powell.
“There’s something our there.” Jaspers’ eyes burned into his. “An awareness. Do you know that the whale might be another intelligent race?”
The mid-September mornings broke hushed in thickening mist. The shades of the sea were darkening to indigos and teals of autumn. Most of the pennants flapped in ribbons. One strobe winked slower than the rest. How long would the humpbacks hold on? Migration was calling, they might leave any day.
She pushed the enhancer key once more and the screen exploded to a sole portrait of Sprite awash in a trillion glittering dots of ocean. Utterly alone. A curious sadness caught in Ethan’s chest as he studied the young whale’s image.
“Megan, there’s another track here. It’s still vague, but I know there’s something, and it’s very different from what Walt and the others are following. I think it may be about their emotions. We don’t have it yet and maybe we won’t ever be able t’get it, but I sure as hell wanna try. Join me?”
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