Boro followed Trekila Spimalo into the warm tropical ocean not far from a fairly-large island. From the air, they had already seen the small monkey-mammal city on one end of the island, but only occasional developments along the shore at the other end where the island thrust into the open ocean.
Trekila began calling every time she dove under the water, and within an hour, dozens of seals, several dolphins, four manatees, two small whales, and one large whale had all visited. The contact specialist spoke to each for a few minutes, then the native cetacean departed.
Boro just floated nearby, with his buoyancy belt set to maximum, trying to look as unimportant as possible. Even so, he knew that each visitor eyed him cautiously until Trekila spoke to them, explaining who they were and where they were from.
As the sun found the western horizon, contact specialist and engineer parted, one aiming for a small, hidden lagoon, the other for something on the shore that Ashley had called a hotel when she pointed it out from the air.
As the twilight faded on that warm tropical evening, a young man walked out of the ocean wearing nothing but shorts, a strange belt, and an unusual diving mask. He pulled off the mask, scanned the dozen or so little buildings at the top of the beach, and walked toward the one with a flashing sign he couldn’t read.
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When he stepped inside, a much older man in some kind of uniform looked at him with a frown and spoke words that meant nothing to the young man from the sea.
The young man pulled a folded piece of paper from a small pouch on his belt, unfolded it, and laid it on the counter for the older man to see.
The older man, still frowning, turned it around and began to read it.
The young man then pulled a smaller piece of paper from his pouch, printed in many colors with a picture of an old bearded monkey mammal in the center, and a symbol in all four corners. This piece of paper he also placed on the counter.
The older man smiled, rang a bell, and another man in a similar uniform came in quickly.
Boro had been hoping for a cot and a bowl of stew.
Instead, he was shown to his own building with sleeping room, sitting room, kitchen, toilet room with bath, deck that overlooked the beach, and refrigerator and cupboards brimming with food.
Boro couldn’t think of any use for most of the luxuries around him, especially since he wouldn’t be here during the daylight hours, but he ate a hearty meal, relaxed onto the soft bed, and was instantly asleep.
For the next two days, Boro slipped out of his room at dawn, waded into the warm ocean, and was not seen again on land for the rest of the day.
Trekila Spimalo continued to call, cetaceans of all sizes came, she spoke to them, and they raced off in every direction. Boro floated near, or leisurely played in the water, accepting that he couldn’t help at this point in the process, but determined to be there if he was needed.
As darkness fell each day, he walked out of the ocean to find his room with fresh towels, restocked refrigerator and cupboards, and bed carefully turned back, ready for him to crawl in.
On the fourth day, Trekila and Boro lounged about in the warm water a few kilometers off shore, but the dolphin no longer called. She explained that the earlier visitors were spreading the word to every corner of the planet, but
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had to swim out to the stretches of ocean not used by monkey-mammal ships, whose noisy engines made long-distance communication impossible.
For the first time, Boro succeeded in cleaning and eating a fish, caught for him by Trekila, while floating on his back.
The first cetacean to return, a large and powerful male dolphin, arrived about mid-day. He and Trekila chattered for several minutes, then he turned and departed, giving Boro a good splash with his tail.
Boro spat out a mouthful of seawater, then smiled.
“I recorded the original conversation,” the contact specialist said once the male dolphin was out of sight, “and I want you to record my translation.”
Boro tapped a code onto his bracelet.
“Tzil-p’zikia Pod, part of the K’rez’krilia Nation, would be delighted to get off this . . . how did he put it? . . . noisy, polluted, monkey-mammal infested rock . . . and he is quite sure the other pods will agree, but they are farther away and will probably respond later today or tomorrow.”
Boro barely held in his amusement while Trekila finished the translation, then burst out laughing.
About mid-afternoon, several seals arrived.
They all barked at once, and Trekila had trouble making sense of their excited words. After convincing them to slow down, and listening to their entire message several times, she finally felt she had the gist of it.
“The Barna-palakta Confederation, which covers the entire east coast of the south-central continent, verifies that the monkey mammals of the planet have indeed made every harbor into a dead-zone with their spilled oil and trash. Also, putrid things no one can eat or drink come down all the rivers.
They beg us to take them away now, and promise they won’t be any trouble on the voyage. They’ll even bring their own fish, if they can find any worth eating. I promised to ask the mission commander.”
Boro sighed. “Ashley’s not going to like making that decision.”
“No one would.”
Just as evening was approaching, and Boro was starting to wish for solid ground, a single manatee appeared. As all manatees, she spoke few words,
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but her somber message was clear when Trekila translated.
“The Mmm-somuna Nation awaits your decision, and will be ready to depart, if any of us are still alive at the end of the twelve-year grace period you intend to give the monkey mammals of this world . . .”
After a brisk walk on the beach in the twilight to clear his head, a hearty meal, and a sound sleep, Boro awoke refreshed and slipped into the ocean once more.
Trekila meet him in barely enough water to swim. “The whales are coming! We must hurry!”
Boro adjusted his buoyancy belt, made sure his breathing mask was fitted properly, and dove under the water where he could eat up several kilometers with his strong legs, side by side with the dolphin.
He first knew whales were near when a massive surge of water suddenly lifted him to the surface, then sent him sliding down a slippery gray back.
Trekila danced on her tail while laughing her head off.
Without a breathing mask and good swimming skills, Boro knew, that would have been a brush with death. But he soon caught a glimpse of a large eye looking back at him from just under the water, so he got over his momentary fright, waved and smiled.
The large eye slowly closed and opened again.
Five more medium-size whales wanted a turn at playing toss-the-monkey-mammal, and with each surge from beneath, behind, or to the side, Boro became more and more used to the game. The fact was, he did have a breathing mask, was a very good swimmer, and was in no danger. And besides, he couldn’t really blame them for wanting to take a jab at the species that was currently threatening their planet.
After half an hour of play, all six whales settled down to business with Trekila Spimalo, speaking to her in their slow voices that could be as high-pitched as a shrill bird one moment, as deep as a fog horn the next.
For two hours, the whales leisurely swam around each other, occasionally taking turns speaking, and whenever possible, giving Boro a tumble with a slow swish of their flukes.
Trekila mostly listened, sometimes said something, and recorded the
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entire meeting.
Mid-day was passing when the whales finally filtered away, one at a time, after parting words and touches with the contact specialist and her monkey-mammal assistant.
Silence lingered on the open ocean as Trekila just floated and breathed for a few minutes. Boro did the same, knowing she would speak when she was ready.
“Please begin recording,” she eventually said.
Boro tapped his bracelet and held it above the water.
“They told many stories, most of which I will not translate at this time.
But a theme ran through their stories, which I think I can put into the language of Nebador.”
Boro waited patiently.
“The sea can provide food, and absorb wastes, from those who live in it.
The monkey mammals of this world do not live in it, yet they take from it all the food they want, and dump their wastes into it. When they did that just a little, in past centuries, the sea could handle it. Now, it is too much. The sea cannot be pantry and toilet for land creatures. They must get their food, and handle their wastes, on land, or the sea will die.”
The silence returned as Trekila relaxed into a low, effortless float, with only her blow hole above water.
After a moment of sadness, Boro touched his bracelet and settled onto his back to look up at the blue sky.
The following day, dolphin and human waited for hours, knowing more reports were coming, but not sure when they would arrive. The sun came out, forcing them to spend much of that time underwater.
Afternoon was sinking toward evening when Trekila became excited. Boro thought he heard — or perhaps just felt — a very low-pitched rumble under the water, but couldn’t be sure.
An hour later, the sea around them seemed to erupt as a giant black whale, thirty or forty meters long, rose from the depths below, causing Trekila almost as much fright as Boro. They both went tumbling to the sides, feet and fluke on top, heads below.
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When both managed to surface and clear their mouth or blow hole, they saw the massive whale floating with his hump above water, but heard laughter from another source. Looking around, they beheld a small female dolphin dancing on her tail not far away.
Trekila Spimalo called a greeting.
Boro
waved.
Both the whale, with his ultra-deep voice, and the little dolphin, chattering like a monkey, responded with sounds of friendship.
For the next hour, Trekila listened to the whale, and the little dolphin remained respectfully silent. Boro at first assumed the massive creature was speaking slowly, and saying little. About half-way through the long conversation, he changed his mind, seeing how often Trekila’s eyes, mouth, and flippers twitched as she listened.
Eventually the whale fell silent, and the little dolphin said something.
To Boro’s surprise, Trekila immediately asked for Boro to provide an open channel to Ashley.
“Ashley here. Ilika is also present.”
“The great whales,” Trekila began, “have gathered vast amounts of information on the status of the ocean ecosystems, and because of the reduced communication range — down to less than a thousand kilometers because of noisy ships — have entrusted it all to a pod of gifted students, one of whom, a small female dolphin, is here and is willing to go with us.”
Ashley was silent for a moment. “That would save lots of time. Is she willing to submit herself to your guidance on the ship and star station?”
Trekila and the little dolphin chatted for a moment.
“Yes,” the contact specialist replied.
“Okay. Are you ready for pick-up?”
Trekila looked at Boro, and he nodded.
“We are ready, but no hurry.”
“Probably within the hour. Manessa Kwi closing,” Ashley said.
Trekila returned to speaking in the cetacean language, and a few minutes later the giant whale rumbled something, then slowly submerged.
Both dolphins immediately began laughing hysterically.
“What?” Boro begged.
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“He requested, if we see them, that we thank the monkey mammals of the planet for all the fish. They were, until recently, quite tasty.”