Chapter 24: Deaths in the Family

When it was six in the morning in Silver Orb, Nevada, it was nine in Pensacola, Florida. Hank in Pensacola was going over the latest spreadsheets from Operation Goldfish Bowl and the intersection points with the investigation on the recent senator assassinations when his virtual desk signaled an incoming priority call from Nancy in Silver Orb.

"What's the bad news?" Hank said when Nancy's face appeared on the wall opposite the desk.

"It's Charles and his wife," Nancy choked up, put her hands to her face. Hank spoke a command phrase, and Nancy composed herself. "I'm sorry, Hank. Charles passed peacefully in his sleep. Jill composed a note and then drank poison. The note and their will have been downloaded to you."

"Nancy, I want you to talk to Emma," Hank ordered. "Tell her that you are in distress. Get my mechanical stand-in to take care of things. I can't come home right now."

Amanda entered with a tray of tea and sandwiches. She set them down as Hank signed off.

"This is family business, Amanda," Hank said as he scanned some documents. "You're family now. Charles Xavier Weathercock was an old shipmate of mine. He met his wife at Silver Orb--Jillian Hannah Stoddard was the matriarch of the moon worshipping cult that founded Silver Orb. Charles died of natural causes last night. His wife committed suicide when she found him dead--they promised each other that they wouldn't hang around after the first one died. If you're up for a love story, its all about a burned out Marine suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder coming to Silver Orb for cutting edge treatment so that he could sleep at night. Jill and Charles were soul mates. He found peace and she found her other half. If Jill had died first, Charles would have killed himself. They even had a plan if one of them got ill or injured to end both of their sufferings. Here, this is their last will and testament."

Hank started the will, a short video. A much younger edition of Charles and Jill appeared together as they warmly greeted Hank, the executor of their final will. They stipulated the disposition of their pitiful few possessions--but Jill and Charles were not the possessive type. Their children were mentioned, and their grandchildren. Both bodies were to be cremated and their ashes scattered over the Pacific Ocean when Hank found the time.

"Hank, Jill and I don't mind you using our memory records," Charles was saying, "but let us go. I know that you love us both. You were the best leader I ever served under. Combat leaders love their men even when they lead them to their deaths. Hank, Jill and I don't want to become robots or clones. I know you mean well, but we are going into the next chapter together. We're leaving nothing behind except memories in the hearts of those we love."

Amanda watched her owner, lord and master. She could barely detect grief on his face. At first, Amanda wondered if Hank didn't feel--but she soon realized that Hank was mourning in private.

A short time later Hank announced over the intercom system that there would be a memorial service for his old shipmate Charles and wife Jill. After the announcement, Hank collected bodyguard Sugar and walked to the animal clinic. Hank and Sugar were nude--the children in the clinic were wearing school uniforms and the clinic staff were in surgical scrubs. Several clothed adults were crowding around three pink flamingos.

"These are my friends," the voice came from one of the flamingos. "They are wild, not like me, so be very careful. When they spread their wings like this, back off. The female you can call Sunrise and the male is Fish Head. I'll translate, but understand that flamingos are not human. Flamingos live in a different world."

"Pinky," one boy asked, "you are a flamingo, too."

"Yes," the talking flamingo said, "and please state your name before you ask your questions."

"My name is William," the boy said. "How can you talk?"

"Doctor Henry James Dalton's Animal/Human Communications Interface Device," Pinky answered. "We call ourselves 'sids' for short. It is more than simple electronics to let us talk. I'm taught to open and close my beak when I speak to regular humans, but a small voder on my chest does my talking, not my mouth. Human speech is more than just words. I had to have some modifications to my brain and learn to be human so that I could use human language. Part of me is still flamingo. That's why you are here today--your environmental science class is going to question these two wild flamingos. I will translate."

"How do we know that you are telling us the truth?" William asked. "That you are telling us what they are actually saying and not something out of a textbook?"

"The same way you determine the truth in other things, William," Pinky said. "You verify through other sources. You already know the textbook."

Pinky was interrupted by a honking noise from the female, Sunrise. Hank answered back with a quack and gestured with his left hand formed into a bird-like head. Sunrise flapped her wings. Florida's unique nudist culture was not obvious--children and adults both were more shocked by Hank communicating with a flamingo in its own language than by Hank's nudity.

"I don't believe it," a woman said. "You aren't talking to those creatures, are you?"

"Doctor Dalton's accent is atrocious," Pinky said as Hank picked up a device off the table and approached Pinky. "I assure you, Hank talks to all sorts of creatures. Sometimes animals understand them and Hank understands us, too. May I have your name, Miss? It would be easier to talk to you if you'd all wear name tags."

"Why do we need to tell you our names?" a girl asked. "What business is it of yours?"

"That way I don't need to call you girlie or hey you," Pinky said as Hank slipped the device on his hand like a glove and began running it through Pinky's feathers. "Thanks, Hank."

The other two flamingos began to nip at Pinky with their beaks.

"Sunrise asks what happened to your feather's Hank," Pinky said. "I told her that you didn't like them and you took them off."

One of the men was explaining that flamingos were social creatures and that they formed friendships by social grooming. A woman chimed in that like humans did, flamingos had their own language. The background chatter of school children and teachers and scientists formed a perfect cover as Pinky and Hank conversed through digital radio. Pinky would relay questions to the two wild flamingos and translate the answers. The flamingo discussion centered on a bus that the flamingos saw along the Overseas Highway connecting the island city of Key West with Miami. The room full of humans, with one exception, were oblivious to the espionage information being exchanged.

"I'm Doctor Greenglen," one of the men said, "Sunrise and Fish Head are wild. Why are they here? I mean, why did they walk into this clinic?"

"Simple," Pinky said. "They want to live here. Sunrise will lay her egg and the two of them will raise their chick here. Hank makes animals feel safe. There are still dangers here, but most of the animals regard this as sanctuary and they refrain from harming each other here. There are many wild animals living in this compound."

"Like me," a voice said from floor level. The crowd parted as a red fox trotted up to Hank. "I am called Copper and I am a sid fox. I'm still wild, but Hank is like another mother to me. I came to live with Hank when his panther, Miami, rescued me. My own mother died. Miami pulled me out of my hole and brought me here. That was several years ago."

"If you are still wild," Doctor Greenglen said, "why are you in here with us?"

"Two reasons," the little fox said, "the main one is that Hank is here. Hank makes animals and children feel safe. We animals can tell. The second reason is that Miami wanted to meet the flamingos. Flamingos don't like panthers because panthers eat flamingos. Pinky, my momma Miami promises that she won't eat anybody. Can she come in?"

"Sunrise says okay," Pinky cocked his head. "Fish Head is still scared, but as long as Hank is here, it is okay. Just don't get too close."

"I won't," a tawny Florida panther, the endangered species cousin of the mountain lion, loped in. The humans shrank back in surprise. "I'm curious, too, just like you humans."

"You are a Florida panther?" the girl who had asked why she needed to give out her name queried. "May I touch you?"

"Gently," Miami replied. "Hank never tamed me. He taught me to think like a human, but I'm still a panther. Hank rescued me after I got run over by a car outside of Miami--that is how I got my name. I still remember him talking to me. I was hurting so much, but Hank picked me up and carried me home. He did things to me, took away my pain. Now I help humans like yourself research Florida's wildlife. I don't always understand you humans, but Hank and his humans here are good people."

"My name is Georgia Nottingham," the girl said. "You are very pretty."

"Thank you," Miami said. "I like how you smell, Georgia Nottingham."