Chapter 19: The Naked Cetologist

Hank kept it quiet; an unidentified cruise missile had been launched from a ship on Gulf Coast of Florida at Pensacola. It wasn't a big deal--the Pensacola Amazon Militia detected it, took control, diverted the missile to land in the Gulf Coast away from the city and near a yacht named the Wacky Wench.

Colonel Charles Jackson leaned over the rail and dry heaved into the Gulf of Mexico. After gagging, Jackson raised his bloodshot eyes and stared at the American ship standing off a mere 500 meters from the catamaran that the United States Air Force colonel stood on. United States Coast Guard Cutter Balboa was a 42 meter long, 325 ton, high-speed (150 kilometers per hour), medium-endurance hydrofoil armed with a 3-CM auto cannon forward, four vertical-launch multi- purpose missiles amidships and a drone helicopter perched on the landing pad aft. The US vessel was in Capitallian territorial waters for one reason--to take possession of a Snakefly missile from a representative of the Capitallian Defense Organization, Deputy Director Robin Tyson.

Colonel Jackson was ill because of the rough ride in a private Capitallian sea skimmer, a Type B "Wing In Ground-effect" sea craft capable of transporting its 12 passengers and crew of 2 a distance of 2500 kilometers in 6 hours. It was called the Sea Bug and it was a bug-ugly craft 16 meters long with a wingspan of 13.5 meters--the 3.5 meter height made the Sea Bug quite compact. Doctor Joan Jakefield, also known as Militia Major Jakefield of the private Pensacola Amazon Militia (PAM) commando detachment, an all-female paramilitary unit noted for sending totally naked commandos into combat, had chartered the Sea Bug to transport Colonel Jackson, his aide Captain David-Smythe and the Deputy Director with her two assistants and two bodyguards. The remaining five seats had transported a Doctor Dalton, three bodyguards and an owl named Donovan to the yacht that Colonel Jackson stood on.

That yacht was a charter vessel called the Wacky Wench. It was a catamaran and boasted a laboratory and salvage equipment, a luxury sailing vessel that could double as a fishing boat, ocean research vessel or treasure hunting ship. The crew was headed by Captain Jim Makerel and his slave First Mate Faye, his apprentice Patty and a Doctor Heather Leaf was the cetologist. Part of the crew, but seldom on board the little 30 meter yacht were three bottle-nosed dolphins named Doc, Happy and Grumpy. The three were not just any dolphins, but modified with full Animal/Human Communications Interface Devices, or A/H CID-- the shorthand for these animals was "sid." The dolphins were a integral part of the research effort, able to dive more than 260 meters and transport small objects. When used as a charter fishing vessel, the enhanced dolphins were superior to any robot submarine for fish location--and could herd fish to the waiting hooks. Dolphins have natural acoustic weapons capable of stunning fish. At the moment, Hank Dalton was hanging off the catamaran in a harness conversing with dolphin Doc.

"Colonel Jackson, are you ready to begin the transfer?" Hank shouted.

"Yeah," Jackson gasped. "Let's get this over with."

"Hank," Director Tyson ordered, "you are to remain on the Wacky Wench until I return. Do not go into USR territory or board a USR-flagged ship. Do you understand me, young man?"

"Yes, ma'am," Hank humbly said.

Dolphin Doc submerged with a cackle.

"Did he just laugh at me?" the deputy director of the Capitallian Defense Organization's Office of Military Intelligence asked. "Never mind. I don't want to know. By the way, Hank, you look handsome when you wear clothes. You'll have to do it more often."

The object of the exercise was a small delta-shaped missile that weighed 1500 kilograms. The Snakefly missile had a ballistic mode and a cruise missile mode. Travel to the target could be in either mode within the range limits of the missile. The small tactical missile was supersonic and had a 1000 kilometer range--and was stealth-capable. It was a difficult target to find and even more difficult to divert or intercept. This Snakefly had a homemade 300 kilogram high-explosive warhead, a modified commercial GPS guidance system, and the airframe and engine serial numbers were miss-matched. Normally the Snakefly carried a 75 kiloton nuclear warhead--fortunately this one didn't.

Colonel Jackson and his aide climbed in one of the two inflatable Zodiac high- speed boats from the USCGC Balboa along with several crewmen from the cutter. Director Tyson and her small field staff rode the other. The missile floated in an inflatable collar and was guided to the cutter by dolphins Grumpy and Happy. That left Hank, his bodyguards, the crew of the Wacky Wench and an owl named Donovan aboard the catamaran.

"You four have something you need to ask me," Hank said quietly and without further fanfare, "something you didn't want to say over radio links. No, Jim, this isn't that spooky stuff like I pulled in Boston. Doc told me over the implant links that you have been discussing things with each other and that you have been upset. Doc has something he wants to ask me, too."

"You first, Heather," Jim said.

"The Institute has fallen on hard times," Heather Leaf said. "I'm not yet a full citizen. Another 17 months--but I've been notified that the Institute will not pick up my contract. Hank, I want to stay with the boys. Will you let me be your slave?"

Hank nodded, his gaze unfocused. "I have a counter-proposal, Heather, but you'll have to remain under positive control for 21 months. It will be harder than ordinary chattel slavery. Doc is coming up right now."

The dolphin Doc came to the surface with four other grey dolphins--and an albino. Heather used a small device strapped to her right wrist to translate-- it was the right wrist because Doctor Leaf was left-handed. Doctor Heather Leaf was a voluptuous blonde with grey eyes. At the moment the entire female crew of the Wacky Wench was naked. Heather told the others that dolphin Doc wanted to add these five to the dolphin show at the Living Seas exhibit during the two- week exhibition in Orlando Land. The white dolphin also requested that she be converted to A/H CID.

"She heard about your health care plan," Heather's smirk was visible even though it was dark due to the underwater lights along the catamaran's hull. "She wants to be called 'Princess.' Hank, Princess tells me that she and I have a lot in common."

"Yes," Hank extended is hand and let Princess nose it. Princess had a mouthful of sharp, cone-shaped teeth and could have ripped Hank's arm off, but this was a sign of trust. "I'd go in the water but my client has grounded me because she is concerned about my safety, Princess Snow White. You and Heather are both scientists. Heather studies cetaceans and tells humans about them. You, Princess, will study humans and tell other dolphins about us."

Doc translated for Hank because Princess was unmodified. Human and dolphin speech wasn't just a different language but based on different concepts. Dolphins could communicate a sonogram, could through verbalization transmit a three-dimensional picture of an object--and its interior. That basic conceptualization made interspecies communications between Earth's two most- intelligent species all but impossible. Hank could understand some of the dolphin speech, but needed a machine interface to render the sonograms as three- dimensional images. Dolphin Doc and the other sid animals had brain modifications; cyborg implants that rendered their brains capable of understanding human concepts such as spoken language.

"I see," Hank walked back up the catamaran hull backwards, the winch attached to his harness operating in response to his unspoken command. Hank was fitted with full commando bio digital implants and could operate compatible equipment hands- free, without speaking. This capability gave the commando an extra set of hands. Hank was back on deck in a moment as the dolphins vanished beneath the waves. "Heather, did Grumpy tell you how I named these dolphins? No, so I need to tell you. Doc decided that he was going to use a theme from an old movie, the first animated motion picture, in the dolphin act. Princess wants to become a sid dolphin and she accepts that she will remain my slave for the rest of her life. The other four wild dolphins will remain wild and you will be their handler. Doc wants you to dye your hair red and join in the show with Faye as your understudy. The show is two weeks long."

"Names, Hank," Jim said. "I know that you get sidetracked easily. There is too much going on in that head of yours. Why didn't we name the sid dolphins Huey, Dewey and Louie after the three service robots in the old sci-fi film 'Silent Running?' Aside from me naming this vessel the Wacky Wench instead of Valley Forge, that is?"

"Dolphins are social creatures, but they don't form life-long social groups as we humans do," Hank explained. "I left open a fourth slot, the 'Dopey' position, for wild dolphins to join this pod on a temporary basis. Doc suggested it to me. Part of the sid development process is watching human videos. This develops vocabulary and immersion in human culture. Doc and the other dolphins are as familiar with the way humans move, speak, think and act as you are, Doctor Leaf. Non-modified animals enjoy watching videos, too. You do remember the cheetahs I used to introduce you to sid animals, don't you?"

"Monty was a sweetheart," Heather said. "I do remember that he liked to watch one fairy tale over and over again. 'The Princess of the Pampas, ' I think it was called."

"Yes," Hank said. "It was an Argentine video released in 2123 about a rancher's daughter. The thing was animated and not live action complete with synthetic voices."

"But sid animals can see videos without looking at a screen," Heather said. "I have a movie or two every night for the boys. Last night they wanted to see that movie called 'Freedom Sails.' I--" Heather was interrupted by a loud smack as Jim slapped his forehead and groaned loudly.

"That damned movie!" Jim exclaimed. "Will I ever live down being stupid?'

"But shipmate," Hank was grinning, "the Jimmie Mack in that edition was so heroic, taking a bullet for Jimmie's lover and hero. I should be the embarrassed one. The character of Dalton James was not just gay, he was a Navy commando!"

"Yeah, imagine that," Jim complained. "Making a sailor out of a good Marine."

"I can tell that you are all confused. 'Freedom Sails' is a kiddie flick--that is old school for video because the first motion pictures flickered when projected on a screen--and the dolphins prefer that version because of the pretty pictures. You already know Jim's role rescuing the three Capitallian delegates to the east coast states in 2189, don't you?"

"Yes," Patty said. "That's why I stowed away on this ship. I recognized Captain Jim from that video."

"You ran away from the orphanage," Jim said. "You were hungry and scared. That was just four years ago. Since then you have become an excellent crewman. There is still four years remaining on your apprenticeship before you become an adult and that's another favor I'm calling in, I need you to take over Patty's apprenticeship."

"I'm 14," Patty said, "and I can become a slave because I can qualify as a emancipated youth. My apprenticeship contract has a sexual amendment now. Like Faye, I can fully entertain guests. I want to become your slave because there is little future in being a free non-citizen right now. Not with the Federal Labor Board eliminating free worker positions and dictating who businesses can hire."

"Since you bring that up, Patty," Hank said, "I want to thank you three women. Heather used to have a racing stripe. Pretty, just not my cup of tea. Faye, I don't know that you have much choice, but thank you for removing that little triangle. Thank you, Jim. Patty, you were just growing your clam beard. Did Joan put you up to it?"

"We used the green stuff," Heather said. "It was no sacrifice, really. I want to stay with the dolphins. They're good people."

The water beside the boat erupted in leaping, cheering dolphins.

"They like you, too, Heather," Hank said. "The Silver Orb sid animals liked you."

"Hank, I need you to take care of Faye for me," Jim said.

"I know that the Federal Labor Board has tanked the economy," Hank said, "but even if you get no more charters you'll do okay. What's wrong, Jim?"

"I've got the SJ Syndrome," Jim said. "I have perhaps six months left, and then I won't be able to care for myself, let alone a slave."

Tears rolled down Faye's cheeks, but she stood quietly.

"You are my shipmate," Hank explained. "Every man on that rescue mission in Boston pulled his weight. You risked a lot on a whim. I can do more than honor your marker. You have a lot of choices."

"SJ Syndrome is fatal," Heather said. "There is no cure."

"There is now," Hank said. "I call it a radical rebuild. It will put Jim in a tank for six weeks. Genetic medicine and nanobot technology can cure it; there are two drawbacks. First, this technique will uniformly produce a human just 1.5 meters tall and 49 kilograms weight. Second, the genetic patterns result in females. I can't tell you more except that you will be in a perfect human body. That body can be programmed to grow and modern sex change surgery will restore you to full male, except that your chromosomes will be XX and you will only produce female children. Expect to be female at least thirty months. You can do this for free if you sign up with Joan's Pensacola Amazon Militia. I have an idea, Jim, and I would need you and your crew to make it work. Doc and Princess told me that several wild dolphins would like to work with us. We will offer them protection from Cuban whalers and let them enjoy human entertainment--and help jump-start dolphin civilization. In exchange they will become our allies. This isn't limited to a handful of dolphins. Capitallia is a long way from recognizing other sentient beings on Planet Earth, but the dolphins are patient. Aren't they, Heather? Tell us the dolphin edition of the origin myth."

"No, don't," Jim said. "I've heard it. You said it is a radical rebuild? Never heard of it."

"It's not cleared for commercial use on citizens yet," Hank said. "Joan wants to charge a million dollars, with financing options. It's separate from the life extension process. It works. SJ Syndrome is when your DNA breaks down. It doesn't appear to be communicable, but it is deadly. I have the patent on the technique of genetic surgery through nanites. There is no prior restraint in Capitallia on the introduction of new medical techniques or drugs, but it is too big a risk in terms of malpractice suits to introduce radical rebuild technology commercially without extensive clinical testing. The testing can be done on slaves with reduced liability--only a small fine. Free citizens are another matter involving public prosecutors. I need to enslave you for the duration of the trials, at least 60 months. It will mean that you won't be a citizen for a decade, Jim, but you will be alive. I'll need you to volunteer to become a medical slave for a while."

"And I'll be a girl, too," Jim mused.

"You have time to live that down and you can wait to say yes," Hank said. "At the moment I am busy. I need to finish up this missile recovery mission. Director Tyson is coming back."

"I trust you, Hank," Jim said. "Besides, I don't have anything to lose. Even if your procedure kills me, I know you will take care of my girls for me. That is my main goal."

"Joan told us why you don't like body hair or big cow udders," Heather cupped one breast. "I'm going to miss these puppies, but I will do anything to stay with the dolphins."

"You didn't understand me," Hank said. "I don't need you as a slave. Even if you did become a slave, I prefer to wait a bit before making major body modifications--but I don't need you to be a slave. You will have to be a citizen to be an Amazon. You won't be a commando. I need to form a section to be the liaison with dolphins. You are ideal for the task. This is going to be a lifetime job, Heather. The economic damage inflicted by the Federal Labor Board presents economic opportunity and I can profit from Capitallia's misery. Now you will be required to be naked most of the time. It is part of the PAM signature. I organized that militia and made it all female because I had the mistaken impression that women were being systematically excluded from the ranks of citizens. I was wrong. At first there were two citizenship requirements: pass the Citizenship Exam annually and pay the Citizenship Tax. After the year 2100 the Capitallian Congress grew wary of the aging force of veterans. When Capitallia formed, Isabella Goldsmythe, the president of the United States had disbanded most of the Army and Marines. She then declared all veterans to be outlaws. 'Terrorists, ' she called us. Oh, after she was impeached and convicted of treason, the declaration was rescinded, but that still left Capitallia with most of the military personnel and vets. Ten years is a long time in military service and life extension technology wasn't available. The soldiers had gotten old. The young war vets were in their late 30's. Combat is still a young person's game.

"Active duty Capitallian military now get life extension medical treatment as part of their contract, but back then a 40 year old soldier was too old for the rigors of combat. Matter of fact, police in their 40's were too old to pursue suspects on foot. The Capitallian Congress added the Militia Clause to keep up the number of trained soldiers who could be called on to defend Capitallia. There were always enough young men to serve in the military because Capitallia's active duty armed forces were small--it was just expensive to hire the high- quality people needed for a modern combat force. But there is more to modern combat than commandos, even if I am understandably prejudiced."

"You have reason, Hank," Jim said. "I never knew how dangerous commando forces were until we came over the sides of the sailing frigate USS Constitution dressed as pirates."

"The dolphins need somebody they trust and somebody who has time for them," Hank said. "Heather, you fit those descriptions, you are willing to volunteer and you have the education required for the job. Heather, humans require human connections. You will be living with the dolphins, but you need a human pod--I mean a human family to take care of you. With the economic slump, this is a good time to do schools. Jim can get the care he needs, Heather can get her commando implants and learn to use them, Faye can oversee the Wacky Wench in dry dock, which will help the boat yard. Patty can take an accelerated course. That will pretty much keep you four busy until Christmas. As for Doc and the boys, they have plans of their own. They are going to be working with Princess- -I often use non-humans as trainers for other non-humans."

"It took me a while to accept you treating animals like people," Jim said.

"Hey," Hank responded, "Capitallia treats people like animals. Why not treat animals like people?"

"I've never voted," Heather said, "but I believe that not all people should be allowed to vote. Hank, are you working on dolphins voting?"

"You need to take that up with Princess when her modifications and training program have been completed." Hank said. "Dolphins are not human. They don't have the same human operating concepts. For one, humans require a piece of land to rest. Dolphins regard space differently than we humans do and even though they're territorial, it's not the same."

"You were talking about the Militia Clause and why you started PAM," Heather said. "I might prefer being a slave to being a warrior. It was hard being mostly naked when I got out here. I was brought up in a modest home."