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Kavul Ato, Karma Star System, Cresht Region, Tolo Arm
December 4th, 2037
Moving through Second Octal turned out to be anticlimactic. Terry and Doc climbed out of the belly of Teddy Roosevelt on rungs intended for the other direction. The crew was busy reconfiguring their ship for its unusual gravity orientation, so nobody was at the lock when the two moved through it. It was the same at the other end when they cycled into Second Octal.
“You’d think they’d have some security,” Doc noted.
Terry nodded; that would have made sense. On the other side of the lock, they climbed onto a wide corridor with a slight curvature in both directions. It reminded him of Karma Station’s promenade, which made sense, as Second Octal had nearly the same diameter. Only this is a starship, Terry thought.
He didn’t know which way to go, but Doc set them off in the direction he was sure would lead to Kavul Ato. Unlike Karma Station, there were no shops or aliens moving about on their business. It was completely empty.
They moved along until they saw an elevator shaft going up. Doc examined the sign. “This lift goes to the other areas of the ship,” he said. “You need an access card.”
“Still surprised there’s no real security,” Terry said. Doc nodded, and they continued on until reaching the docking location of Kavul Ato. A crewman from the ship was waiting for them; apparently the same lack of security that didn’t keep someone from entering Second Octal would also not have prevented them from entering the ship without invitation.
“Dr. Clark said you were coming,” the man said and followed them into the lock.
Once in the ship, Terry quickly made his way to the hold where the Shore Pod was. Two marine biologists were already in the tank giving the orcas anesthetic. One of the ship’s crew, a cargo handler, was standing by watching.
“The whales asked to be knocked out,” the crewman said, shaking his head. “They don’t like hyperspace, do they?”
“Not at all,” Terry agreed and he quickly got into his wetsuit and grabbed a rebreather. Pōkole was swimming around his mother, circling over and over nervously.
Once he was in the water, he went to the calf, who immediately turned and nuzzled Terry nervously. “It’ll be okay,” Terry said and stroked the infant’s long, smooth side. He looked to see who was administering the sedatives. “Dr. Patel?”
“Yes, Terry?” the doctor replied a few meters away.
“Are you going to drug Pōkole too?”
“Your mother said it’s up to you.”
“Oh!” Terry said, surprised. He looked at Pōkole floating next to him, and then at the calf’s mother, who was slowly falling asleep. The adults couldn’t handle hyperspace, but Pōkole had been born there, and had shown no signs of trouble for the following four days. “Don’t give him anything,” Terry said, “but you better give me the dosage necessary and show me how to use it, just in case.”
Dr. Patel met him outside the tank a few minutes later. The ship’s techs were pleased with themselves, having installed exits to the tanks on the ceiling and the floor, just in case the ships were forced to dock in unusual orientations. Once they were out of the water, he showed Terry the injector and how it operated.
“Make sure you inject at the base of the flukes,” he told Terry and showed him with a slate. “If you’re smooth with the injector, he’ll hardly feel a thing. Maybe do it while he’s feeding.” Dr. Patel checked the time. “We’re due to enter hyperspace in two hours, so be ready.”
“Yes, sir,” Terry said, and took the injector. “I hope I don’t need it.”
“Me too, son.”
Terry got back in the tank and spent time keeping Pōkole calm and reassuring him. The young orca was confused, wondering why none of the orcas were responding to him. He didn’t remember a few months ago just after he was born. The body language of an orca was easy to detect and uncomplicated. Terry could tell Pōkole was scared.
“Entering the stargate in five minutes,” Terry heard over his underwater earphones.
Here we go, he thought. He swam to the surface and got the milk bottle from its warmer. Pōkole saw and immediately darted over for some food. The calf had long since gotten gentler about his feeding habits, not knocking Terry all over the pool in his impatience. Pōkole used to be nearly three times the Human’s size, and had since grown to over four times.
Based on the medical staff’s analysis, Pōkole was gaining 1-2 kilos a day. Drinking five liters of the fat-dense milk a day certainly helped. There was so much fat in the milk, it was more the consistency of toothpaste than what Terry thought of as milk. Some of the stored and purchased fish was being processed into the milk each day.
“Entering hyperspace,” Terry heard.
He felt the jolting sensation of being destroyed and rebuilt again. Instantly all four adult orcas spasmed in their drug-induced slumber, then settled in the simple fabric slings rigged to keep them at the tank’s surface so the rebreathers weren’t necessary. Pōkole stopped feeding and rolled to look at Terry. His eye was already the size of an adult Human’s fist. The calf blinked and focused on his benefactor.
Oh, no, Terry thought. His instinct was to back away, just in case. Instead, he let the bottle float free and ran both hands along the orca’s side. “It’s okay, baby,” he said, sure the sounds would transfer in the water despite the rebreather in his mouth. “You’re safe.”
Pōkole looked around, swimming a slow circle around Terry and observing his surroundings as if he sensed something was wrong. Terry reached back and took the injector. It was too big to hide, but he kept it against his stomach and covered it with the bottle in his other hand to make it less visible. He doubted the calf knew what it was.
Eventually Pōkole drifted back over to Terry and nuzzled against him uncertainly. Terry moved along the calf’s body toward the tail. He kept the mental image of the spot Dr. Patel had said to use as the injection point firmly in his mind, all the while praying he wouldn’t have to do it.
Finally, Pōkole poked the bottle with his nose, a sure sign he wanted more food. Terry exhaled a line of bubbles, then offered it to the calf, who began to eat contentedly. He was going to be alright. Terry tucked the injector behind his back and concentrated on feeding Pōkole.
* * *
“How’s Pōkole?”
“He’s fine, Mom,” Terry said as he walked awkwardly into Teddy Roosevelt’s galley. The crew had done as good a job as they could configuring it to operate upside down. It hadn’t been designed with the same flexibility as Kavul Ato and Kavul Tesh. Regardless of how you looked at the room, it appeared like they were eating on the ceiling. Even the little autochef was held to an exposed support beam by clamps. “He doesn’t show any signs of the adult orcas’ reaction to hyperspace.”
“Good,” she said. Terry got some food from the autochef and joined her. “The bottlenoses are practically drunk with excitement,” she said after he’d sat down on the awkwardly mounted bench.
“I’d like to find out why,” Terry said after he’d had a bite of food. He made a face at the bland concoction. He couldn’t tell what it was supposed to be.
“I think you have enough to do with your studies and Pōkole,” she said, glancing up at him.
“Aw, Mom...”
“Don’t ‘aw Mom’ me,” she said. “Your grades in math last week weren’t great.”
“They were 92%,” he complained.
“Your tests the previous week were 98%.”
“Doc says even the best have an off week once in a while.”
“Doc isn’t your dad.”
“Not yet,” he said, and glanced up at his mom. She was decidedly looking down at her food with a slightly rosy glow to her cheeks. Gotcha, he thought. “Doc and his crew are going over to explore the Second Octal tomorrow. Can I go?” She’d never heard the details of their encounter with the MinSha on Karma Station, and if Terry had his way, she never would.
“I want to go over, too. Can you boys control yourselves until midwatch?”
Terry smiled; it sounded like fun.
* * * * *
