Ocean: War of Independence (6 page)

“I can appreciate that, and I’m on your side. You know that. But Cousin, you must be cautious of world politics. You don’t want to go too far, or public opinion will turn against you. Right now, it’s slightly in your favor in the U.S. and trending upward again, and it’s even more in your favor worldwide. International news outlets have been running stories that are sympathetic to your cause, emphasizing the abuses being committed against sea life, including the marine species that are in danger of becoming extinct, the sewage that is being dumped in the seas, the continuing oil spills, and all the garbage of human civilization that seems to end up in the water.”

“I appreciate your help and advice,” Kimo said, accepting another piece of coconut meat from Jimmy. “You’re giving wise counsel.”

“It’s not just my opinion. As you know, I’ve been in close contact with the first lady of our state, Fuji Namoto, and she has the ear of her husband, the Governor. Being a retired military man, Governor Churchill has not been overly happy with the aggressive actions you’ve taken, but his wife has been bringing him around gradually, getting him to listen. And she has said the same thing to me that I’m saying to you now. You don’t want to go too far, Kimo. You don’t want to become the bad guy here—at least not to most people. You need to be the sympathetic, altruistic character, representing helpless sea creatures who are unable to speak for themselves.”

Kimo nodded. Fuji was still an associate Sea Warrior, and he appreciated everything she did for the organization when she ran their office in Honolulu, until the authorities used a lame excuse to shut it down. He was glad that she had not been placed under arrest, nor had any of the other associates. So far the government was only after the physically transformed hybrids, whom they considered to be radical, but they had not been successful in their pursuit. And Kimo planned to keep it that way if he could.

“All right,” he said. “We’ll continue to focus on the United States, because, as you point out, we are gaining in public opinion polls, and we don’t want to lose that important part of the war.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Tell the President that if he doesn’t capitulate immediately, we’re going to escalate our attacks against coastal facilities, including the blockading of more ports.”

“You don’t want to give him forty-eight hours like the last time?”

“Talk to Fuji about it. I’ll let the two of you decide on that, but
no more
than forty-eight hours. Just in case we can’t reach you before then, I at least want to have a time in which I’m going to take the next step. That will be forty-eight hours from noon tomorrow. Remind them that I don’t make idle threats.”

“I will.”

“Just don’t reveal too much about how we get around, the jetfish pods or our other methods.”

“They already know some of it, such as the waves Alicia can generate, but most of it is still a mystery to them.”

To the north, Dirk Avondale led more than a thousand dolphins as they pushed a sea of floating garbage—most of the Great Pacific Garbage Patch—toward the mainland of the United States. It was nighttime on a calm sea, and they were making better time than he had anticipated. As soon as the dolphins had the floating garbage corralled and in motion, getting it out of the region in the North Pacific where it had been circling in currents and accumulating more debris from around the ocean, the animals seemed to get a boost of energy. The accumulated trash was moving along at a good clip now, boosted by favorable winds and ocean currents. It was as if the gods and goddesses of the sea could not wait to get rid of this junk.

A plane and a noisy U.S. Coast Guard helicopter appeared overhead, as they did regularly, to observe the progress and report on it to military authorities. When powerful spotlights played over the water, Dirk dove under, to keep anyone from seeing him. Unlike some of the other Sea Warriors, he still remained human in his appearance, albeit with enhanced swimming and sea-survival capabilities in his body.

He presumed that the scouts would see him eventually in daylight hours no matter his efforts, with long-range camera lenses, and perhaps with satellites orbiting the Earth. To his knowledge, Kimo had not publicized this particular mission; had issued no threats. It was just happening.

The American government could certainly make an educated guess about where the garbage was headed and who was responsible for it, because the Sea Warriors were at war with them. But Dirk doubted if they knew what to do about it. There were no instruction manuals for this scenario, nor, for that matter, for any of the other situations the government faced now that advocates for the ocean were not only speaking up—they were taking strong and aggressive actions.

***

Chapter 6

Jimmy Waimea would never reveal anything he knew about the whereabouts of Kimo Pohaku or the rest of the Sea Warriors, or anything about their weapons or tactics. The U.S. had pieces of information about a lot of things, based upon what had been used against them and upon reports prepared by investigators. Ever since the blockade of Pearl Harbor and the main islands in the archipelago—Kimo’s Battle of the Hawaiian Sea—government agents had been snooping around the high school campus, digging up whatever they could. One of them, a determined man with a shaved head, had been to Jimmy’s news shack several times, and had spoken with students who worked with him on the Honolulu Mercury News, the school newspaper that looked more professional than some of the big-city dailies.

Jimmy had a strong moral tradition behind him, in which a reporter never revealed his sources, no matter the pressure put on him by authorities, no matter the threats. Throughout American history, many brave journalists had gone to jail for taking this stance, and it was always a tense standoff between a newsman’s legal rights and moral beliefs, on the one hand, and the needs of the society to obtain certain information on the other.

In such conflicts, the government was supposed to protect the integrity of society by arresting and prosecuting criminals, but American governments also were whipped around by the will of the people—and in this case, most of the citizens were not agreeing with their own leadership. More than fifty-five percent of the people polled were siding with the Sea Warriors. That gave Jimmy additional strength, and thus far the persistent government investigator had only issued subdued threats against him for not cooperating, threats that did not intimidate the veteran newsman in the least. He was deeply troubled, however, that the Sea Warriors had been formally declared a terrorist organization, and an enemy of the United States. That made his own activities more dangerous.

And now, the stakes had been raised even more.

The President of the United States had summoned Jimmy to Washington, D.C., along with eleven other people who knew Kimo Pohaku, both before he began his public campaign for the ocean, and afterward. The list of people knowing him afterward was limited to his own companions in the Sea Warriors and to a handful of people he’d remained in contact with on the land—such as Jimmy Waimea, Fuji Namoto, Jiddy Rahim, and his adoptive mother, Ealani Pohaku. All eleven had been summoned to the White House, including Jimmy, and now they waited in the East Sitting Hall.

Sunlight entering through a web-shaped window gave the room a cheerful cast, accentuating the ochres and yellows of the décor. Yet, Jimmy did not feel cheerful. One by one, the President was seeing each of them, having them escorted individually into the Oval Office. So far, everyone had been seen with the exception of Jimmy, and now it was his turn, as an aide in a dark suit escorted him through the historic building to the legendary presidential office.

Jimmy felt so nervous that his stomach roiled, and he could see his hands shaking slightly. His mouth had gone dry, and he knew from his own investigations that it was from fear. Though he wore a suit and a colorful Hawaiian tie, and would be quite well-dressed by the standards of his home town, he felt under-dressed here, and very much out of his element.

As Jimmy was escorted into the Oval Office, he saw the President sitting on one of two sofas that faced each other, not far from the immense Presidential Seal on the deep blue carpet. He motioned for Jimmy to take a seat on the other sofa, which he did.

The President looked younger in person than the news images of him. He had jet-black hair, combed straight back, a muscular jaw and a prominent nose. The eyes were small and blue, with a probing, penetrating intensity to them. Although Jimmy’s politics were the polar opposite of the President’s right-wing policies, he didn’t find his demeanor particularly threatening.

“This is an informal talk,” the President said, “but your very presence here places an immense responsibility on you to tell the truth. You do understand that, don’t you?”

“Sir, I realize that I am not formally under oath, and that I am not testifying before Congress, but I understand the gravity of what you are saying, and I consider myself a loyal American citizen. However, as a journalist I have other obligations as well.”

The dark eyebrows arched. “Higher obligations than the security of this nation?”

“Sir, you must know what I’m talking about. A newsman cannot discuss certain details of his sources. It is a matter of journalistic honor.”

“The Sea Warriors are a terrorist organization.”

“I don’t agree with that designation, sir. And I’m not alone. I’m sure you’ve seen the public opinion polls, how much support there is for the Sea Warriors.”

With a scowl, the President asked, “What is it you don’t want to tell me? What do you know about that tattooed Hawaiian, that Lawrence of the Ocean?”

Jimmy smiled, just a little. “Sir, I realize you brought me here to discuss my cousin, Kimo Pohaku, and I will be happy to do so—subject to my moral constraints. Of course, you realize he is not technically my cousin, because he was adopted by Tiny and Ealani Pohaku when he was very young.”

“Who were his birthmother and natural father?”

“I’m not sure if Kimo even knows that, or Ealani. You have already spoken with her of this, and she knows more about it than I do. But it is common knowledge that the boy-child was discovered in the sea by a fisherman, Tiny Pohaku, and brought home. When Kimo was a teenager, he began having the tattoos of sea creatures inked onto his body. Truly, Mr. President, he loves the ocean and all the things that live in it.”

“Such an interesting, strange background,” President Vanness said. He leaned forward. “I am informed that Kimo came to your home, accompanied by Alicia Ellsworth?”

The question surprised Jimmy, because he didn’t recall revealing that to anyone. Had he mentioned it to Fuji, or to Ealani? He wasn’t sure, but didn’t want to be caught in a lie. “That is true, Mr. President. They wanted me to publicize their message, describing the plight of the sea and the creatures that live in it.”

“And a worthy cause that is.”

“Yes it is, Mr. President.”

“But, you see, I have my own priorities. While I can see that more needs to be done to help the ocean—a great deal more, I will admit—we can’t have the Sea Warriors interfering with national security. And they have been doing exactly that, blockading both Pearl Harbor and San Francisco Bay and all the naval installations in them—interfering with military operations, as well as commercial shipping, and pleasure boats. That oil derrick incident is another direct attack on American security interests, adversely affecting our oil supply, which is a strategic resource with military implications. We cannot allow any of that, don’t you see?”

Jimmy pursed his lips, didn’t respond.

A female aide entered the room, whispered something in the President’s ear.

He scowled, then smiled stiffly. “It seems that you have a cell phone call, Mr. Waimea. The caller identifies himself as Kimo Pohaku.”

“Sorry, sir. I left my phone in the sitting hall, didn’t want to disturb our meeting with it.”

“But you left it on.”

“Yes, sir. Do you want me to take the call?”

The President nodded, and the aide handed the phone to Jimmy. It was an exceedingly embarrassing situation. “Yes?” Jimmy said.

“I’m using a calling card,” Kimo said, “so they’ll have trouble figuring out where I am. Only six hours remain on the latest deadline I gave. Is there anything new?”

“I’m sitting with the President at this very moment.”

There was a long silence on the line. Then: “
The
President?”

“That’s right, President Fillmore Vanness. I’m with him in the Oval Office.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I were.”

“They must have all kinds of ways of locating me, so I need to get off this line. Well? Do you have a response from him?”

“I’ll ask him. Can you call back in say, half an hour?”

“Make it two hours. I’m going to change cards, and locations.” Kimo hung up quickly.

Another aide entered, and handed a printed transcript to the President, which he read. “So, the Sea Warriors want my response?”

“Yes, Mr. President. I make no pretenses, sir, but I seem to be in the position of intermediary.”

“Or the representative of a dangerous terrorist organization. I’ll have an aide take you to the Map Room, where you will await my response.”

Before the ocean crisis, President Vanness had been the most powerful man in the world, in charge of the largest economy and the strongest military force the Earth had ever seen. Now he felt like a lot less than that, and that he’d been put in a no-win situation, with limited options. Pro-ocean demonstrators were marching in all of the major cities in the United States, and the actress, Monique Gatsby, seemed to be on every cable news channel with Professor Marcus Greco, asserting that the Sea Warriors were selfless and heroic, while the President was the reincarnation of Satan because he allegedly represented the greedy corporations who had fouled the seas in so many ways.

As he paced the Oval Office, it irked him that Kimo Pohaku had issued another threat, while omitting details on the next target, and that he’d done it through a lowly news mouthpiece, the Honolulu Mercury News. A
high school
newspaper!

The President didn’t want to blink in this confrontation, but didn’t see how he had any alternative. Multiple cordons of large-bodied sea creatures remained in place, blocking commercial shipping and military activity in the Hawaiian Islands and at the entrance to San Francisco Bay. An oil drilling rig had been destroyed off the California coast and driven up on the land, along with boat wrecks and other junk from the water. Three tidal waves had slammed into the Santa Barbara area, while in the North Pacific, a sea of floating garbage was being directed toward the west coast of the United States. And reports were coming in from the Pacific Ocean that pods of huge whales were forcing container ships to turn around, preventing them from delivering their cargoes.

So far, the fanatical Kimo Pohaku had carried through on every one of his threats. What did he have in mind next? Vanness didn’t want to think about it, but he had to. He was on the hottest seat in the world, facing an enemy who used highly unconventional weapons—weapons that American military leaders didn’t know how to counter. To make matters even worse, the Sea Warriors kept producing new weapons and tactics—needlefish that impaled Navy frogmen, stingrays that shot poisonous barbs, squids that could rip humans apart, whales that beached a submarine, shorebirds that brought down a helicopter, and tidal waves. What else did they have in their extraordinary, dangerous arsenal? He sensed that they had a great deal more than he’d already seen. The ocean was full of mysteries, and so were the Sea Warriors who roamed it.

Hybrid human beings, sea monsters, and a goddess holding dominion over the oceans of the world. The whole thing sounded like fantasy, not reality, something magical rather than anything explainable by science. He’d been reading the reports from government oceanographers and other experts, but the pages had been filled with questions, and there were hardly any answers. Was this ocean revolt the work of a sorcerer? Was it President Vanness’s misfortune to be brought down by witchcraft and incantations? He could hardly believe that might be true, and yet, the strangest events in history were actually occurring, and he had to deal with the crisis.

This was beyond politics, way beyond it. This was about the fate of the United States of America, with a domino effect far beyond that.

On one level, President Vanness could sympathize with the viewpoint of the radicals, their righteous anger about the abuses people had inflicted on the world‘s ocean. But the Sea Warriors were only targeting the United States, as if no other nation in the world was at fault. Yet the floating garbage that was being pushed toward the west coast was mostly plastics and other trash that
other nations
had dumped, not the United States. The Sea Warriors were completely ignoring the fact that years ago the U.S. outlawed the dumping of plastics in the ocean, a practice that other countries continued anyway, ignoring the environmental damage it caused.

President Vanness felt victimized, didn’t see why his country was under attack like this, or why he was being smeared personally. He certainly didn’t visualize himself as Satan, and yet, his foes were successfully portraying him in that light. He needed to find a way out of this mess.

He looked at his watch, an expensive gold timepiece, inset with diamonds. It made no sound as the second hand circled the dial. Even so, he heard a ticking noise in his head, growing louder and louder.

He summoned Jimmy Waimea, and gave him an answer, the new position of the American government….