Alien
Copyright© 2025 by Harry Carton
Chapter 11
Early April. Selvin reporting.
Nightwing followed cautiously, maintaining altitude as Aloo’s craft descended into the deep ocean trench. Below, thermal vents glowed like submerged cities, their chimneys belching superheated minerals into the icy darkness. “He’s harvesting again,” Elliot murmured, pointing to tendrils of light extending from the torpedo toward a cluster of vents. “But these organisms are different -- look at the spectral analysis.”
Craynet studied the readings: hyper-thermophilic archaea with unprecedented metal-binding proteins. “They’re engineered for radioactive isotopes,” she realized. “Cesium, strontium ... Fukushima’s legacy.” On-screen, shimmering clouds of microbes detached from Aloo’s craft, drifting toward the Japanese coastline with purposeful motion.
A proximity alert chimed softly. “Commander,” Selvin announced, “the Imperial research vessel, Shinsei Maru, is approaching from the northeast. They’re hailing us on Dr. Tada’s frequency.”
Craynet leaned forward. “Put her through, Selvin. Audio only.” Static crackled, then Tada Yuzuki’s calm voice filled the cabin. “Hakase Craynet? We’re tracking unprecedented bioluminescent activity along the Japan Trench. My Octopus tetricus specimens ... they’re emitting coordinated sonar patterns. Those are directed toward their ‘mother.’ The mother is then translating it to a microwave transmission. Directing the microbial flow. The mother is a larger, older octopus. She’s the actual mother of the smaller, newer octopuses.” A pause. “The Empress’ science council requests real-time data sharing. They’re ... unsettled.”
Before Craynet could respond, Aloo’s torpedo abruptly ascended vertically from the trench depths, shedding streams of glowing water. On Nightwing’s tactical display, its trajectory arced sharply northwest—not toward the garbage patch, but inland. “Selvin! Projected destination!” C’Droit barked.
“Overflight path aligns with ... Fukushima Prefecture,” Selvin reported. “Radiation signature spike detected from torpedo hull. The deep water organisms are attracting the airborne isotopes ... Now Aloo is beginning to drop the extremophiles, increasing the drop rate as he enters the water near Fukushima.”
Elliot’s hands flew across his console, pulling up radiation maps. “He’s targeting the groundwater plumes seeping into the Pacific. But Suzi -- look at the secondary dispersal.” Tiny specks of bioluminescence flared on the map, blooming along rivers and coastal settlements. “He’s deploying them inland. Near villages ... They are entering the groundwater through the estuaries.”
C’Droit ordered Selvin: “Continuous update on Hakase Tada’s channel, if you please.”
Elliot said, “The radioactive contamination of the groundwater is decreasing slowly. It will take many days to achieve full compliance with the ‘all clear’ standards the Japanese Environmental Council has published. The extremophiles can’t get to the contamination that’s already in the soil.”
Craynet watched the glowing dots spread across the map like a slow-motion fireworks. “He’s not just cleaning the ocean. He’s sterilizing the water locked in the land.” Her mind raced – Aloo’s actions felt less like a mission and more like an apology. Now she felt it was more like a millennia-late correction for leaving Earth’s biosphere untended. “Tada-san, advise your government: do not interfere. These organisms are precise. They’ll ignore organic tissue, only binding to and thus neutralizing radioactive isotopes in the water.”
Aloo’s torpedo banked sharply over Sendai Bay, releasing a fine mist that shimmered briefly before vanishing into the coastal waters. On Nightwing’s sensors, radiation levels along the shoreline began a slow but steady decline.
The torpedo dove into the ocean again, heading deep into the depths, once again angling for a different set of vents, and the extremophiles that lived there.
Elliot watched the readings spike. “He’s harvesting a new strain -- psychrophiles adapted for both Arctic and moderate conditions. Look at those lipid structures! They’re designed to break down hydrocarbons at near-freezing temperatures.” On the display, Aloo’s craft glowed as it absorbed shimmering clouds of microorganisms from thermal vents near the Kuril Islands. “He’s stocking up for the next leg.”
Craynet traced the torpedo’s projected path southeast. “He’s headed for the Garbage Pile again.” Her voice trailed off as Selvin interrupted.
“Commander, priority alert from Hakase Tada. The Empress’ science council reports bioluminescent activity in Lake Biwa, which is freshwater, Commander. Aloo’s organisms have adapted.” On-screen, Japan’s largest lake shimmered with alien microbes neutralizing agricultural runoff. “Dr. Tada’s octopuses are broadcasting approval patterns. She believes they’re acting as regional supervisors.”
Elliot commented, “How does she know they’re regional supervisors. Does she grok ’Octopus standard language’?”
C’Droit studied the area of the huge Garbage Pile that covers the central Pacific. “Clever cephalopod, indeed. As one kind of his microbes eats the petrochemicals at the surface, the byproduct will eventually sink to the bottom, where the cold-adapted microbes will slowly munch on it.”
Helberg commentated: “It’s taken us two hundred years to create the Garbage Pile. I’ll bet Aloo’s microbe army will do away with it in a decade.”
“But what’s to stop us from dumping more garbage into the oceans?” Suzi mused.
C’Droit turned sharply. “Aloo will. This is his nursery world—he won’t tolerate further contamination.” His eyes remained fixed on the display as Aloo’s torpedo plunged into the Great Garbage Patch. Below, the swirling vortex of microplastics churned like a toxic soup under the Pacific sun.
“Not if he doesn’t deal with the politicians of the world’s nations,” she countered. “We have to get Aloo to interface with the G12 group, and convince them to START the effort to STOP the pollution.”
The torpedo slowed as it reached the Garbage Patch’s eastern periphery. Tendrils of light extended from its hull, seeding milky clouds of polymer-consuming microbes into the swirling debris. Instantly, visible changes occurred -- a section of floating plastic foam that was dozens of square meters began to crumble, dissolving into harmless organic slurry that sank beneath the waves. “It’s working faster than projected, but still slowly,” Elliot breathed. “Decades? I think there will be significant progress in a few years.”