“Yeah, we found ’em. Shadowed ’em for a while, but our secondhand rust-bucket couldn’t keep up. They’d rabbit every time we got within five miles.”
“How did you infiltrate the Japanese fleet?”
“Our captain called for volunteers. Wanted us to sneak a couple of activists onboard with jet skis, have us handcuff ourselves to the harpoon ship, force them to turn around to Japan rather than bring a prisoner all the way to the Antarctic Ocean for the entire hunting season. That was the idea anyway. My hand was the first one up, and I was the only one who managed to get on a harpoon ship and handcuff myself to the railing before the whalers could throw me overboard.”
“What of the other volunteers?”
“Didn’t even make it over the bulwarks. It was midnight, no moon, but they still saw us coming on the radar. The crew was waiting for us with hammers and machetes.”
“But you got through.”
“Broke the second mate’s jaw and sliced two fingers off another guy’s hand with a box cutter before they backed off long enough to let me chain myself to the railing. By the time they sawed through the lock, my ride was long gone. Throwing me overboard again would have been murder, not that they didn’t seriously consider it.”
“Was it difficult to access their computer systems?”
“No,” said Freya, remembering the small USB drive that had arrived in an unmarked manila envelope shortly before she’d sailed from Brisbane with the environmentalists. Not difficult at all, she thought.
“Explain.”
“I slept with the sailor assigned to watch my cabin. When we were finished, I told him I wanted to send an email to my family, tell ol’ Mom and Dad I was okay and not to worry.”
Despite her budding devotion to her protector, she’d only told him part of the story. She’d slept with the sailor, that much was true. But the young man had refused her request to access the shipboard computer network outright.
So she did it the hard way instead — snapping his neck, taking the keys for herself, and marching to the nearest terminal. From there, it was only a matter of plugging Himura’s flash drive into the network before returning to the cabin to wait.
“Do you disapprove?” asked Freya, cocking her head to match her benefactor’s blind, considering stare.
“No,” answered Yasuo Himura, a ghost of a smile upon his lips. “I only pause to admire — you are the embodiment of the perfect instrument. Cunning… ruthless… and quite beautiful, from what my men tell me.”
“It all went down just as you said it would,” said Freya, smirking at the compliment. “After a few hours, the harpoon ship where I was held prisoner suddenly heeled to starboard and steered into the factory ship like a spear. One of the mates burst into my cabin and threw a survival suit at me and ran off. He knew neither ship could be saved.”
And they were in such a hurry they didn’t even see the body hidden under her bunk. Not that it mattered; both vessels went beneath the waves with minutes, the smashed harpooner sinking not long after the massive factory mother-ship.
“And your rescue?”
“I figured you were full of shit.” Freya grinned openly. “Thought you’d leave me out there to die after I did your dirty work — no loose ends.”
“And yet you completed your mission.”
“You gave me an opportunity I always dreamed of,” said Freya. “The chance to truly strike a blow. Dying was always a possibility — but failure wasn’t. Not with extinction at stake. Your helicopter came, just as you said.” In her mind, she still heard the frustrated screams of the stricken men thrashing in the sea as her minder hoisted her to safety before abandoning them to their fate.
“I hope you will now take me at my word. My operatives have ensured the American authorities will discover your real identity and presence on the activist crew. As a prisoner of the now-sunken ship, you will be reported missing and presumed dead, along with your former captors.”
“Do you suppose rescue crews will find any of the whalers?”
“Yes, but by then it will be too late,” said Himura. “The virus in the flash drive altered the course of the entire fleet. When they sent their distress signal, they reported their position eighty miles to the west of their actual location. It will take days for the searchers to happen across their bodies. If exposure doesn’t claim them, the sharks will. I believe it is fitting given their crimes against the ocean.”
A silence fell between the two, Freya considering the death of nearly two hundred men, the warmth of sick gladness filling her up from the inside.
“This vessel, do you think it’s beautiful?” asked Himura.
“It’s stunning. A little fancy for me, though.”
“Would you like to meet the captain?”
“Sure,” Freya said, looking around confused, wondering where the bridge would be on a ship like this. “Why the hell not?”
Himura smiled again, a knowing smile as though he could see her confused expression. He made a sweeping gesture with one hand, hidden infrared cameras catching the motion. With an outpouring of harsh light, the bamboo floor began to open along the entire length of the chamber. Shocked, Freya moved next to the writing desk, watching as the main deck split before her. Beneath it was a grotesque, pulsating collection of organic matter like disemboweled organs, all captured within glass vessels and electronic wiring. On the walls, several cleverly concealed screens flickered to life, displaying dreamlike, fractalized images of Freya, Himura, the superyacht, and the American fighter planes above.
“This is Meisekimu.” Himura gestured to the strange, vivisected biology below them. “She’s an organic computer controlling all onboard functions of my ship. She doesn’t simply steer us, she has the ability to intuitively monitor, maintain, and repair nearly every onboard system, replacing all but the most menial service positions.”
Eyes aided by the newfound light, Freya noticed a row of black-suited men at the other end of the long chamber, men not unlike those who’d snatched her from the bus stop in Seattle. She wondered if bodyguards and hired guns were considered ‘menial’ in Himura’s labor calculus.
As Freya watched, the screens slowly turned to the fighter aircraft above, focusing first on, and then within them, displaying a point-of-view cockpit perspective as they dipped and banked over the lights of Naha City.
“What are the screens doing?” said Freya. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“We’re observing a narrow visual window into her calculations, or more appropriately, her thoughts,” answered Himura. “She’s capable of incredible insight and intelligence. You see, Meisekimu is not self-aware — that would be too dangerous — rather she exists in a sort of digital dream-scape, experiencing flutters of consciousness but never truly awaking.”
The blue light from the Meisekimu’s sunken chamber shifted, erupting into iridescent yellows and greens.
“What’s happening?” Freya turned to Himura. “The lights and screens — they’re all changing.”
“She’s very happy,” said Himura. “She’s experiencing flight for the first time. Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Wait—experiencing?”
Himura didn’t answer. Instead he rolled his wheelchair back behind his writing desk and held out his hand until Freya took it. The blind electronics magnate grasped hers with a surprisingly strong grip, gently pulling her behind the desk as well. Hidden motors silently whirred, slowly raising the desk and surrounding platform ten feet, twenty feet out of the floor as the triangular ceiling above them opened. Within moments, the rising platform emerged flush into the floor of the glass-enclosed greenhouse above. Fresh organic humidity swirling around them, Freya found herself within a jungle of vines, flowers, plants, and trees.