33 Whiskey Golf

 

Strait of Georgia. B.C. Canada. Aug 19 2033

49°26'36.4"N 124°18'14.8"W

 

“Which way do we go, Kij’?” Táan shouted, looking back over his shoulder. Dot tilted her head toward starboard and they pulled back on the sheets; the Dyson sails rotated and the baidarka’s prow altered course. Dot felt the wind kiss her cheek as they settled into the new heading.

Táan had recently switched cockpit positions with Dot so she could better manage the sails. The north breeze was at their back, and they spent most of their time on a downwind run, employing paddles only for course adjustments. The wind had gained momentum as it funneled down the wider channel past Jedidiah Island. Before they parted, Kai had counseled them to keep to the Vancouver Island-side of Georgia Strait and avoid the heavy marine traffic and populated mainland coastline. But Dot could feel the wind veering eastward and saw the fetch building in mid-channel. She doubted the wisdom of remaining on the leeward side of the strait, but chose to stick with Kai’s advice. Selecting a point on the horizon, she adjusted their heading and leaned back to monitor the sea state.

By lunchtime, they’d reached the southernmost point of Texada Island—the last headland before open water and the commercial shipping lanes—Whiskey Golf lay to the southwest. Kim unwrapped the last package of saltfish and handed back the loaf of bread they’d saved from Yaculta. The trio laid their paddles across their cockpits and ate a sparse meal. Dot scanned the clouds for any sign of Monk; he often arrived at lunchtime for leftovers, although today he was nowhere to be found. She tucked a chunk of the crust into her pocket, just in case. Kim looked back and held the empty food bag aloft. “We’re going to have to stop early enough to reprovision; we’re all out of fish.” He rummaged through the compartment at his feet and said, “I’ll set some tackle once we’re out of this deep water.” Before Dot could respond, their boat was hit with a jarring thunk. She quickly laid her paddle flat against the opposing waves to keep from capsizing.

Kim turned around and yelled, “What was that?”

The baidarka was hit hard again—this time from beneath the forward part of the hull. Kim screamed as the bow was lifted, then slammed back into the sea. Táan and Dot searched for the source. A forceful spray of water from behind, warned Dot of the next assault—she braced herself as a pectoral fin slammed down on the baidarka, grazing her arm as it landed. Táan dug in hard with his paddle, “C’mon—pull! We need to get clear of this!” As their boat lurched forward, Dot saw a long shape following them underneath the water’s surface. She recognized the lopsided saddle patch at once. Saka! Why are you doing this? Leaning outboard to track the whale, Dot watched him dive. “Kij’—get back in your cockpit!” Táan shouted. Dot ignored his pleas, straining to catch a glimpse of Saka. All at once, she saw the whale’s face reappear from the murky depth—shooting toward the surface with increasing speed. She leaned back and grabbed hold of the cockpit as Saka emerged like a rocket, pitching the baidarka onto its side. The whale fell backwards shaking his head, his mouth open; rows of sharp teeth visible. Táan grabbed his paddle. “Holy shit—that’s Saka! What’s happened? Dot shook her head with an expression of concern. “We’d better get as far away as we can until he calms down,” he shouted. Dot touched Táan’s shoulder. As he turned to face her, she pointed toward her ears, shaking her head back and forth. “What—he can’t hear us?” he asked. Dot nodded. Then, touching her fingers to her forehead, she looked directly at Táan, spiraling her palm outward in circles that grew larger as they moved toward him. Táan watched her actions intently and replied, “So, Saka can’t use his, uh…echolocation whatchamacallit—is that it?” She nodded her head vigorously. Yes! That’s it! That’s why he’s so shaken up—I know it.

Kim shouted, pointing at the dorsal fin as it sped toward an exposed reef. Dot doused the sails and pushed her blade deep into the water. Táan followed her lead and together, the three paddlers aimed the baidarka north by northeast, fighting against wind and current. As they came alongside Saka, Dot tapped the hull, the whale closed in on the boat. As Saka’s face came closer to the surface, Dot spied blurry red markings under his eye patch. She strapped her paddle onto the deck and leaned out for a closer look. Saka’s head broke through the foam of a large swell and Dot realized the red marks were blood, coming from the orca’s eye. Glancing at the shore of Rabbit Island, Dot gauged their distance from the reef. Suddenly, Saka dove; rising seven-feet out of the water in front of them. “Turn—now! We’re going to hit him!” Kim shouted from the bow.

The baidarka collided with Saka’s pectoral fin as swells crashed against the hull. Saka’s high-pitched screeches rent the air. He slammed sideways back into the ocean, drunkenly swimming toward the shallow bay. Táan cried out, “He’s going to beach himself—if he doesn’t hit those rocks first!”

Kim looked back and shouted to Dot. “What do we do?”

Dot’s thoughts raced madly through her head. She’d never seen her long-time companion behave like this before, not even when they’d rescued him as a calf. She had to act fast. Dot pointed toward the shore and dug in with her paddle. Táan and Kim joined in and they raced after the orca. Once the baidarka was between the whale and the rocks, Dot placed her paddle inside the cockpit and climbed onto the deck. Táan looked at her in disbelief. “Are you nuts? You are not getting in the ocean with that whale, Kijii!” Dot merely shook her head and lowered herself into the frigid water. She had to connect with Saka. It will be alright—it has to be alright. Táan grasped her arm and held it tightly. “Please—please don’t do this Kij’. Listen to me—he is not safe right now.” Dot placed her hand on his, then took a deep breath and slipped below the waves.

 

The ocean was eerily quiet underneath the surface. Dot’s eyes snapped open as she scrambled to get her bearings. At last, the dim light of day filtered through in corkscrew reflections above her. She quelled the instinct to gasp for breath in the icy surroundings. As she searched into the gloomy depths, Dot waited for the familiar vibration inside her chest; confirmation that the whale’s sonar had located her. She spread her arms and churned through the water. At that moment, a black rostrum with white throat rose in front of her. Two large eyes stared into her own. She was face-to-face with Saka.

Shaken by the orca’s abrupt appearance, Dot reached out to touch his face. Saka lowered his head and retreated. Instinctively, Dot grabbed onto one of his wide pectoral flippers. The agitated whale rolled onto its side. Dot hugged the whale, placing her cheek against his chest, she listened to his rapid breathing and tremulous clicks. With a slow, deliberate movement, she ran her hands down the side of Saka’s head. The blood coming from his eyes was still present, even under water. All at once, a sharp ping resonated through the water. Dot felt a stabbing pain erupt in her ears. Saka gave a frantic wail and spiraled toward the sea floor. Dot gripped his sides as he dove; her ears ached and her chest felt as if it would burst. The whale continued his descent, advancing further out to the channel. Another loud ping rang through Dot’s skull and she could feel Saka’s muscles tense. She closed her eyes as the pressure inside her head increased. That noise—make it stop! She struggled for air and her thoughts became jumbled. Am I to be dragged to the bottom to become a sgáan as well? Is this how it’s supposed to end? And then, the faint but reassuring sound of Reba’s voice cut through the mayhem. “Ishla, 'kajáa—rise and be a leader.”

Dot realized what she must do. She ran her hand along Saka’s torso and flattening her palm against his head, tapped a continuous pattern. The orca’s large eye rolled backward, focusing on Dot’s face. As she stared into that dark orb, Dot continued her tapping—messaging her instructions. Please Saka, you must listen to me before it’s too late!

 

The ocean swells began to stack up as Táan strained to see over them. He rose to his knees and scanned the surface for any sign. Kim remained focused on their course and yelled back over his shoulder, “Can you see any sign of her?”

“No—keep your heading!” Táan’s curt tone betrayed his concern. “I can’t make anything out above these damn waves,” he muttered. Just then, he remembered the binoculars that Dot had unwrapped on the day of their departure. She had stowed them away inside her cockpit. Clambering over the deck, Táan fumbled around in the stowage compartment until he found the spy glasses. Looping the strap around his forearm, he scanned the surrounding ocean for any sign of Dot or her orca. He found nothing.

“Look behind you—maybe Saka swam the other way?” Kim shouted. A rogue wave hit them midship, causing the baidarka to rock. Táan braced his thighs against the combing and adjusted his focus. “There’s a big ship several miles to the southwest—some sort of military looking vessel… Probably cruising in the off-limits area of Whiskey Golf. No sign of her back that way.”

Kim kept his thoughts to himself. It would do no good to remind Táan of how long they’d been searching—that there was no possibility of Dot getting enough oxygen to remain below the surface for this long. Instead, he tucked his chin and dug in with the paddle, moving the baidarka forward through the churning sea. Between the strokes, he muttered a blessing in Mandarin. “Chū rù píng ān, Dot.”

They continued onward, riding out the swells as they searched. The wind brought with it bursts of rain that spattered loudly upon the boat’s deck. Táan placed the binoculars back in Dot’s vacant cockpit. A weighty emptiness filled his chest as his paddle blade sunk deep into a cresting wave. Kim glanced over his shoulder and forced a wan smile. “Don’t give up on her yet—have faith.”

Táan nodded and pursed his lips, then shifted the paddle to the opposite side of the baidarka. His mind and body were numb—unable to grasp anything except the notion of automatically moving the paddle from side to side. A deafening clap of thunder pulled him back to the matters at hand. A thick indigo-colored cloud rolled toward them. Lightning split the horizon in two and in the midst of the heavy squall, Táan made out the sword-like shape of a black fin. “Kim! Over there—look!” he pointed at the distant shape on the waves. The two men leaned forward and with all their strength, paddled toward the triangular object. As the boat drew nearer, they noticed a pair of hands clasped around the orca’s fin. Kim held his paddle upright in the water, so that Táan could safely lean out and grab Dot’s arm. He pulled her onto the deck, resting her head on his lap. “Kijii—you’re alive,” he murmured, brushing her hair away from her face. Barely conscience, Dot managed to open one eye and acknowledge him. Pointing toward the mainland, she made a gesture that Táan recognized as their signal for Saka to “head in that direction.” He looked toward the coastline with a puzzled expression. “You sure about this?” With a single nod of her head, Dot brushed one hand over her flattened palm—signing, “go now.” After helping her into the middle cockpit, Táan peeled off his coat and gave it to her. He unfastened his paddle and settled into the aft seat. “Okay, we’ll go your way. I trust you, Kij’.” Dot’s head slumped forward as Táan and Kim dug their blades into the waves.

Saka kept pace with the baidarka as they navigated away from Whiskey Golf. Dot curled up inside her cockpit, wrapped in Táan’s coat and layers of blankets. She was too weak to paddle, but found the strength to rap on the hull every two minutes for Saka’s benefit. As they put distance between themselves and the sonar testing grounds, the orca’s behavior settled. He stayed close to the baidarka as if tethered to it by an invisible umbilical cord. The squall eventually passed them by, and with its departure, the waves in the Strait of Georgia lessened and the skies cleared. Kim and Táan continued to paddle toward Canada’s mainland as Dot had ordered. If either one of them questioned her decision to head for civilization, neither mentioned it aloud.

 

Later that evening, the baidarka sat under a cover of branches on the shore of Smuggler’s Cove. Kim had hooked a decent catch of rockfish and cleaned them on the beach—several of the largest fish lay across the coals of Táan’s campfire, hissing and crackling as they cooked. The two of them waited impatiently near the fire for Dot to return from the beach; her vigilance regarding Saka’s well-being was coming at the expense of her own health. At last, Táan sighed, tossed his coffee into the embers and went down to the water. He found Dot, waist-deep in the small bay. “Kij’, please come back to shore, you’re going to get pneumonia if you don’t warm up!” The stars reflected off the water, highlighted Dot’s silhouette. She turned to face him and Táan caught the glimmer of phosphorescence around her legs as she moved—tiny ripples of neon-like radiance. Dot smiled, pointing to the mouth of the bay and as Táan scanned the distance, he heard the distinct hissing noise of an orca’s blowhole. “Saka seems happy again, doesn’t he?”

Dot waded back to shore and wriggled into her dry pants. Wrapping his arm around her waist, Táan helped her back to their campsite. The tantalizing smell of grilled snapper filled the air: Kim was dishing up dinner and as they approached the fire pit, he sat the plate on the grass and fetched her a heavy wrap. Engulfed in the comfort of blankets and a warm meal, Dot leaned against a tree, her eyes closed, grateful to be back on land. She fell asleep to the sound of her friends’ voices and the crackling fire, unaware that Monk had landed beside her and finished the uneaten fish on her plate.

 

 

Point Roberts WA. USA Aug 21. 2033

48°58'37.9"N 123°05'26.6"W

 

Douglas bashed his fist on the table, causing several empty cans to rattle off the edge. “Dude! There’s no way that a simple social media post can weed out the HSA’s programmers! I don’t care how carefully you protect the link.”

Biyu sat nearby on the cement floor, absentmindedly stacking empty cans into a pyramid. “What’s wrong now?” she asked.

“Your brother’s suggesting that we post a story about the biotech company online—drop in a few hints that only Chen would understand… sort of, clues of some kind, I guess. Man, it’s just too risky. I don’t care if the Austrian mastermind agrees or not. I’m just not cool with it.”

Biyu picked up one of the cans that fell off the table and placed it on top of her pyramid. She’d grown tired of the constant tech-talk amongst the computer nerds. Douglas had grown so paranoid over the last couple days—ever since Jun had informed them of the French journalist’s capture. Douglas spent all hours of the day and night in front of his screens, exchanging burners and tablets with increasing frequency. Their supply of electronics was drying up and there was very little credit left to obtain replacements. Biyu couldn’t help but feel that they’d lost the battle against HighTower… Her parent’s whereabouts might never be found. She’d grown frustrated with their slow progress and bored with the monotony of it all. She stretched her right leg toward the table and captured an empty can with her foot. As she worked to scoot it within reach, her left knee bumped the base of the pyramid, causing dozens of cans to crash to the floor and roll in all directions.

“Goddammit Biyu! I don’t need this distraction. Go somewhere else, won’t you?” Douglas buried his head in both hands, his fingertips clenched at his temples. “Y’know, it’s tense enough—digging as deep as we are into the enemy’s systems—you don’t need to make it more traumatic with all this racket.”

“Sorry, Douglas,” she mumbled.

“Look Beezlebubs, I’ve got to create about four or five red herrings… Some dummy sites to confuse the HighTower hackers. Once I finish that, Christoph and Jun can start dropping their bread crumbs. We’ll fish out your uncle somehow—I promise. Meanwhile… Just chill the hell out, will ya’?”

Biyu nodded glumly and began to clear up the empties. As she gathered the cans and plopped them into a box, Douglas glared at her over his shoulder. Biyu noticed his look of disdain and quietly placed the last two cans on the stack. “I guess I’ll take a walk on the beach… again.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” he said, returning his attention to the array of monitors. “Leave this manhunt to the techies, Sparky.”

Biyu grabbed a warm jacket off the chair and tiptoed to the stairs. The weather had changed in the last few days, bringing chilly northern gusts to bear along the mainland coast. She slipped on her rubber boots at the top of the stairwell and closed the door softly behind her so as not to incur Douglas’ wrath upon return. A blast of wind caught Biyu off guard as she passed the corner. Yanking the jacket’s zipper all the way up, she dug both hands into her pockets and wandered down the sandy boardwalk.

The Point Roberts waterfront was only a few miles long at best, and Biyu had crisscrossed the extent of it countless times—enough so that its stunning vistas were merely tedious to her now. She beachcombed only to pass the time, to check off the hours until one more day had disappeared. Biyu meandered along the low tide margins, skipping flat rocks into the surf as she walked. Without intending, she interrupted several gulls as they tore apart the remnants of a seal’s corpse. Under normal circumstances, Biyu would have veered away from such grisly scenarios, however weeks of tedium had given her a new-found appreciation for the morbid and grotesque. The gulls flapped noisily aloft, landing a safe distance away from the girl who’d disrupted their buffet. Biyu poked at the corpse with a stick. She observed several deep gashes in the carcass; just above the hind flippers. Bending over to get a better look, she counted two well-defined sets of teeth marks. “Whoa, what got hold of you, mister seal?” The bites were long, encompassing its entire torso. Biyu tilted her head as she examined the marks. She wondered what kind of predator had tried to make a meal of the poor mammal. At that moment, she heard a loud splash behind her. Biyu jumped, spun around and spied the forked flukes of an orca, just before it submerged below the waves. She ran toward the water and yelled, “Come back! Hey—don’t go away Mr. Whale!” Standing alone on the shore with her hands shielding her eyes, Biyu watched the rolling waves for any more signs of the orca. Suddenly, a giant fountain of spray erupted from the deeper water several hundred yards down the beach. Biyu’s eyes followed the disturbance and she began to jog along the shore, scanning for more whale sightings as she ran. Scrambling over a pile of driftwood, she saw a strange looking boat further up on the beach. She spotted three people sitting next to the long craft, partially hidden behind some logs that had washed ashore. Biyu noticed two oddly shaped tents erected next to the boat. She lost interest in the campers as a noisy burst from the whale’s spout recalled her attention toward the sea. “Hey! Wait for me, whale! I’m hurrying!” Biyu bolted forward and one of the rubber boots slipped off her foot. She fell onto her knees and watched as the orca spy-hopped, looked directly at her, then slipped below the swells. “Damn,” she muttered and grabbed a clump of sand in her hand, letting it sift through her fingers. She remained on her knees for some time and stared at the blue horizon.

“Biyu?” a voice behind her whispered. “Shì nǐ ma?”

A tingle at the base of her neck told Biyu that this was no ordinary voice—something about the tenor, the soft accent in the Mandarin dialect that instantly reminded Biyu of her mother. Slowly, she turned to look up at the man standing behind her. Biyu rose from her position and faced him. “Uncle Kim? Where… How... Is it really you?”

 

Douglas reached for the burner without removing his gaze from the screen. His hand fumbled around the desktop until it encountered the vibrating device. He tapped the speaker button and continued typing as he spoke. “Yeah, give it to me.”

“Right. So, the Austrian wants a few more wrong turns added in order to get to the secure sight. We’ll need to program some more firewalls before this thing turns on.”

“Jun—man, if this goes south, we’ll all find ourselves in a dark cell with cattle prods up our butts.”

“It’s our only shot, Douglas. We need to connect with my uncle somehow and let him know we got his message—give him the opportunity to reach us. At least this way, we might have a small head-start on any of the HSA hackers. I don’t think we’ve got any other choice.”

Douglas flipped through the multiple open screens on the main monitor. “Alright, fine. I’ll modify some of these sites and redirect. I can get a few more dummy IPs up and running before you guys cast your bait. But dude, tell me you’ve come up with some really fuckin’ obscure challenge questions… We can’t hang our asses in the wind like this for very long. I know you got a lotta’ faith in this Austrian—and he’s got serious street cred, but we still…” Douglas jumped as the basement door creaked, he heard footsteps on the stairs. He scrolled through his list of codes and waited to see Biyu appear. Jun would want to talk with his little sister before getting off the line.

Jun continued, “Look, once you’ve got the bait and switch ready to roll, message me. I’ll have the challenges ready to link. The Austrian has an entire program set up to sniff out the programmers. I’m sure we can execute this within the next 24 hours, man. Depending on when my uncle can log on, we’ll know for sure by…”

Biyu tapped Douglas on the shoulder. He waved her away and she punched him harder. “Jeezus, Beezus! Hang on a sec, dude—your little sister is being a real pain in the ass.” He held the burner away from his face and turned to chastise Biyu. She stood next to him with her hands on her hips. Three people stood behind her. Douglas could make out a muscular, 20-something Native youth with a young woman at his side. To Biyu’s left was a lean and weatherworn Asian man. Douglas did a double take and then glanced back at the photograph of Kim Chen in his white lab coat. He squinted at the picture, then back to the man standing in front of him. Jun’s voice came from the mobile speaker. “Douglas—hey man, you still there? We need to go live as soon as possible. Who knows if my uncle will surface again?”

Douglas continued staring at the man and said, “Uh, Jun… We’re gonna need another burner, dude.”