1. Chapter 1 by Mackenzie Calhoun
2. Chapter 2 by Mackenzie Calhoun
3. Chapter 3 by Mackenzie Calhoun
4. Chapter 4 by Mackenzie Calhoun
5. Chapter 5 by Mackenzie Calhoun
6. Chapter 6 by Mackenzie Calhoun
7. Chapter 7 by Mackenzie Calhoun
8. Chapter 8 by Mackenzie Calhoun
9. Chapter 9 by Mackenzie Calhoun
a.k.a Good Vibrations II
just when you thought it was safe, an unoriginal storyline…
GARY MITCHELL LIFEGUARD BOOK FIVE
“Pet Sounds”
“But I'm telling you, and I'm telling everybody at this table that that's a shark! And I know what a shark looks like, because I've seen one up close. And you'd better do something about this one, because I don't intend to go through that hell again!”
Martin Brody (Roy Scheider) Jaws 2 (1978)
Researchers from […] the University of California-Davis […] put satellite and acoustic tags on 179 white sharks in Northern California waters from 2000 to 2008. They found that most of the sharks migrated thousands of miles every year, from California to as far away as Hawaii, and five swam underneath the Golden Gate Bridge in 2007 and 2008 and into bay waters. It isn't known exactly where the sharks went once in the bay, only that their acoustic tags were detected by receivers anchored to the bay floor between the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz Island.
…Barbara Block, a professor of biology at Stanford's Hopkins Marine Station in Pacific Grove who helped lead the tagging study- "I doubt they are coming in very far because they are salt water animals."
[…] Since 1952, there have been 99 white shark attacks in all of California, according to […] records, and 10 fatalities. Most were surfers or divers in places where elephant seals and sea lions ” some of the white sharks' primary prey ” are frequent.
"We tend to think of white sharks as animals that wander oceans aimlessly," said Block. "What we're learning is how selective a predator they are. The go up to 4,000 miles in a trip and come back to within half a mile of where they left."
The five sharks that came into San Francisco Bay represent less than one percent of the nearly 64,000 detections researchers picked up along the California coast from acoustic tags. Some details are known about the bay visits, however.
, March 11, 2009 (Paul Rogers, http://www.mercurynews.com/top-stories/ci_13705470)
PET SOUNDS
CHAPTER ONE
Cetacean Institute, Tiburon Island, San Francisco Bay
April 2259
The school children from St. Anna’s Elementary School in the Mission District of San Francisco were led into the small hall at the rear of the Institute. This traditionally was the last room trips were taken through on their way out, for it led onto the water tank that enabled them to look down on it. It was also a way of attracting interest in the wildlife of San Francisco and surrounding waters.
Doctor Mindy Rogers stopped by a sixteen foot long glass box that was ten foot high. “This is a recent exhibit, have a closer look kids.”
Inside the box was a collection of bones laid lengthwise in some vague pattern. At the end where Rogers stood was a massive set of teeth, each tooth as sharp as a razor.
“What is it?” asked one kid, wide-eyed as he stared at the jaws.
“This was a Great White Shark that swam into the Bay two years ago. The first one recorded in the Bay for some time.”
The kids were all fascinated. The notes on the box labelled the shark as twenty-five foot long. It did not point out that the shark had been blown to bits to stop it from wreaking further havoc. By the time of its own death it had claimed at least three swimmers in the Bay. They were the first deaths by shark after 1959.
“What happened to it?” one kid asked.
“It was stopped by a man trying to save the lives of people stuck in the Bay.” That seemed the best way of explaining it. Mindy knew if Carol were here she’d do a better job of explaining but Carol rarely did the shark when she did tours. She was there after all on the Ballard. The Great Shark Hunt of 2257.
“Looks nasty,” another observed.
Mindy smiled, pointing to the jaw bone. “This was the biggest piece to survive. Not bad considering it survived a massive explosion.”
“Are there other sharks?” the second kid asked.
“No. Not regularly anyway. We have an area known as the Red Triangle that sharks still make use of out west but few Great Whites come into the Bay. Not anymore.”
“So, no more sharks?”
“No more.”
Mindy marshalled the kids away from the shark though some lingered. As they left she took a glance at it. The motion-sensitive lights in the room dimmed and for a brief moment it looked as if the shark moved.
“I need some coffee,” she told herself.
**
The Golden Gate
Fighting the strong currents the beast moved towards San Francisco Bay. The seals were coming in here and so it had to follow. Others had come into this stretch of water but for this particular creature it was her first attempt. Her great length pushed and surged against the currents. Her fin sliced through the waters before submerging. She would circle here and wait.
**
Two little hydrofoils cut their way under the Golden Gate Bridge, driven on by the high winds that cut through the Gate. One-man craft, they were no bigger than an old 22nd Century shuttlepod though they looked much more streamlined. They jostled in the dark blue water before starting to turn out near Point Bonita Lighthouse. Away before them the great Pacific Ocean beckoned. As the two ‘foils turned the leftmost one tilted over, sending its pilot into the water. He splashed around as he both tried to stay above water but also to get back on his boat. The other ‘foil continued on back towards the Bay. These things always happened.
The downed pilot didn’t see the large fin slicing through the water as fast as the ‘foil he had been piloting. In fact he didn’t see much of anything as the shark took him from below in one bite, dragging him under. Nothing marked this gravesite but the hydrofoil bobbing with its leaning sail on the swell.
**
Baker Beach, San Francisco
“Baker do you copy, Baker do you copy?”
Gary Mitchell jogged into the lifeguard hut at Battery Chamberlain, slapping the wall intercom panel. “Go ahead centre.”
The voice of the on-duty controller at the Lifeguard Centre on Treasure Island replied curtly. “Got a drifting boat in the Gate. Might be connected to the mayday call we got by a hydrofoil racer saying his buddy hasn’t come in yet. Could you check it out?”
“Yeah.”
Mitchell went to get his jacket before going down to the beach where the Rigid Inflatable Boat was moored at a makeshift jetty. Away to his right the Golden Gate Bridge dominated proceedings, even seeming to out-do the adjacent Starfleet buildings. As he untied the moorings Mitchell searched for any signs of the drifting boat and caught a glimpse of crumpled sail in the water close to the Headlands on the other side. Moorings ditched, he was soon motoring out into the Gate at a careful speed; the swell was strong and going any faster might tip him. Nonetheless he took a couple of minutes to reach the sail which lay a few hundred meters from the base of the steep Headlands front. There was little other debris except for bits of boat that could have been from anything. San Francisco and its Bay was still a destination/departure point for oceangoing freighters even in 2259. This could’ve been something washed out from Alameda or Oakland.
“Centre, I’ve found a sail from a hydrofoil. No sign of anything else.”
He circled the area even going so far as to pass into the Bay itself up close to Horseshoe Bay. There he caught some curious glances from cadets taking a break on the pier from Starfleet Academy. Heading back to Baker he heard his communicator chirp. “Mitchell.”
“Cara here. Could you come down to the Marina, down by Crissy Field?”
That was it. Nothing more, nothing less. Gary aimed the nose of his RIB and sped towards Crissy Field. The field had once been home to an old airport from the 1920s onwards until the larger San Francisco International opened in San Mateo and then the metropolis of the new era encroached upon the city. Somehow the field remained as did the nearby Palace of Arts and much of Golden Gate Park that extended to here from the coast to the west. It did not take Mitchell long to beach himself near where the tall blonde Cara was standing. She wore her lifeguard shorts and t-shirt and stood over a dark shape.
“I thought you were at Treasure Island today.”
“No, no.” She was ashen. “Check this, Gary.”
He slowed as he saw a man dressed in sailing gear. A diver-like wetsuit with short-sleeves and SF SAILING CLUB stitched on one side. The man had blond hair with watery blue eyes.
He also had no legs and half of his torso was gone. The mess of his insides had spilled out into the sand in a slight groove. Mitchell felt his legs go rubbery and sagged to one knee, putting a hand to his head and feeling it go cold as he did so.
“Oh, not again!”
Cara looked upon him. “Gary, is it…I mean we had an attack last year…”
Two years, it was two years, he thought angrily. He opened his eyes and managed to stand. “You called in the emergency services?”
“On their way, I didn’t say why.”
“Shit,” Mitchell swore loudly. There was no one else about. Crissy Field was eerily quiet this April morning. He looked down at the sailor. “The missing pilot of that hydrofoil. If it was a…well, we’re in trouble.”
San Francisco had gone almost three centuries without an attack, a fatal attack, and then two in two years. He wiped his lips and looked at Cara. “How long ago did you find him?”
“Fifteen minutes. I was sweeping the beach for debris. Did you find the drifter?”
“No, it sunk.” Gary saw a skimmer approach coming in off the road. Its blue lights flashed silently as it came to a stop. Two Andorians leapt out, their blue skin clashing with the red uniforms they wore. “We’re here to…oh, lords of…”
Mitchell took one by the shoulder who was now an ashen icy blue. “Look, get this body back to Mission but don’t let many know. I want a full autopsy done. Ed Wilshaw, okay?”
The EMT Andorians nodded quickly and loaded the body onto a stretcher. As they raced off Mitchell swallowed heavily, tasting bile.
“What do we do, Gary? We’ve got to tell someone.”
“We wait until we know for sure it was a shark. There’s always the possibility he drowned, and was chopped in half by the propeller of another boat that didn’t see the body floating in the water.”
“That’s true,” Cara conceded, “but what if someone else gets killed because it is a shark and we didn’t report it?”
“Details,” he mumbled, heading back to his boat. “Just keep your eyes peeled.”
CHAPTER TWO
Fisherman’s Wharf, next morning
Doctor Carol Marcus scrambled ashore, thanking the fisherman who had given her the lift over from Tiburon. Though the doctors said it was all right for her now to use transporters, she did not trust them. Somehow it was better to come by boat. How else would you get to see the Bay shimmering under a morning sun?
David now was just over two months old and she hated to be away from him as much but in fairness she was there a great deal. Fortunately she had friends in the city as well as her younger sister Adrienne who had come west for a month.
“Carol, hi!”
Carol was smoothing her Institute jacket down when she heard Lenore Milton’s voice. The manager (for want of a better term) of the Aquatic Park was walking up the pier to her. Lenore had a slender figure with curves in the right places and long red hair that fluttered in the breeze. Dressed in hotpants and a t-shirt she did not seem the type to run the former National Aquatic Park with its collection of antique ships and exhibits, but she did. Carol could see why she was a perfect fit for Mitchell, for she was the woman to tame the beast.
“Hi, Lenore, got your message. What’s this about the seals?”
“Pier 39…”
“Yeah, I know.” Carol fell into step with Lenore who led the way up to Pier 39. Everyone knew about the sea lions that came to Pier 39 and had done since the 1989 earthquake. Even the big quake of 2047 had not changed their habits and they persisted on coming, remaining a tourist attraction even in the 23rd Century.
“We seem to be missing some.”
“How do you know that?” Carol asked as they rounded onto the shoreline facing the pier. There were about six or seven sea lions lounging on the remains of Pier 39. Carol frowned for the creatures seemed to be distressed; though in an apparent state of relaxation they were making deep wailing noises.
“When you’ve been here as long as I have you get to know things and one thing is the amount of sea lions we have.”
Carol did some thinking. The sea lions often went for a swim “so to speak- in the Bay but never strayed far from the pier. Whatever brought them here after 1989 kept them here. “Have you got any security cameras?”
“Sure, I don’t know if they capture Pier 39 well but we can have a look.”
Carol went with Lenore into the Aquatic Park’s main building at the foot of the crescent shape that housed the antique ships like the Jeremiah O’Brien and was often where shows were put on. In Lenore’s office she showed Carol the camera footage after searching for it. Carol trawled through the footage whilst Lenore went off somewhere. The sea lions seemed put out by something.
It was at around 4am on the footage that something caught her eye. Leaning forward in her chair Carol spoke: “Computer, rewind to Zero-Four-Hundred and play slow.”
The image before her showed Pier 39 from atop a building in Fisherman’s Wharf. It mostly showed the submarine USS Pampanito but the sea lions could be seen on the right lit under lights on the pier. As the image unfolded she saw a couple of sea lions in the water, their snouts quite recognisable. That is until the water frothed and they vanished.
As quickly as that.
Carol’s hands were cold.
There was something that just wasn’t right. The way they vanished. She used the controls to zoom in and replayed the moment. One moment the sea lions were on the surface and then…
“Computer, replay three seconds infinitely slower and pause.”
The computer did so. In agonisingly slow detail the sea lions began to vanish.
“Pause,” she said quietly, leaning forward. There, just visible, was the grey snub nose and hint of white. She let the image unfold in normal time and for a brief moment blood stained the water before even that vanished.
Lenore’s return made Carol jump. “You find something?”
“Not really, not really. Can you keep this until I can get further help?”
“Sure, where you going now?”
Carol was on her feet. “Er, back to Sausalito.”
As Lenore wished her goodbye Carol tapped the copy of the security footage she had made quickly and left. This time she went to the nearest civilian transporter to beam back to the institute.
**
Gary sat, head in hands, outside of the forensics room in San Francisco’s old City Hall. The ornate interior was much as it had been for centuries. He closed his eyes and saw the carcass of the dead pilot. He opened them and saw his future fading into nothing. Will I ever be rid of this?
“Mitch, come on in.”
The voice was San Francisco’s night-time coroner Ed Wilshaw. Sandy haired with a perpetual wrinkle across his brow, he was just a year older than Gary and had known him since Mitchell arrived in San Francisco twelve years ago. In his lab the body of the pilot lay on a table, mercifully covered from shoulders down.
“Your pilot was Wilk Sandsturm from Alpha Centauri, here on business,” Wilshaw gestured to the computer console off to one side, “we ran his profile through the database.”
“Cause of death?”
Wilshaw walked up to the body whereas Mitchell stayed put. “Blunt force trauma to his torso as well as simultaneous loss of blood and heart failure. Whatever hit him, hit hard.”
“Shark?”
Wilshaw turned to face Mitchell. “It looks like it. There are grooves consistent with a shark attack and it would explain the trauma. He didn’t do this capsizing, put it that way.”
Wilshaw wandered to a window, opening it. Mitchell joined him gazing down Van Ness Avenue. “Gary, I remember the last time and that was bad but this shark could be bigger.”
“Bigger?”
“I measured a tooth mark and it was half again the size of the one from the victims of 2257…”
“You measured…”
“This is bad.”
“No kidding.” Mitchell rubbed at his eyes. He thought he was rid of this plague and yet he wasn’t. There was every chance this was a one-off but then there was every chance this would be the start of things to come. He pictured the waters of the Bay turning red with blood…
“Gary!” snapped Wilshaw as Mitchell abruptly yelled. “Geez, are you okay?”
“I…I guess.” Mitchell stuck his head out of the open window. He breathed deeply. “We had that attack the other year and now we’ll have this.”
“You’ll have to tell the commissioner.”
“Make the damn report and I will.”
Wilshaw ached for a cigarette. Something he had seen in old holo-novels and something you could still get in places albeit with no tar in it. He patted Mitchell on the shoulder. “I’ll get it done but I’ll send it straight to the commissioner’s office. It’s my job, Gary.”
“I know, I know.”
**
The beast had gone back out of the Bay into the Golden Gate where the waters felt cooler. She fed on porpoises that were trying to get out of the Bay. She sensed movement in the water and began to slice her way towards the shoreline.
**
As the sun set, Mitchell made his way back to the beach. He went straight to the hut and sent a signal to the headquarters that he was putting the beach on alert. For now he made an excuse of strong currents. He next gathered some flares and markers and hurried down onto the beach. Behind him the sky was lit a reddish-orange as the sun set to the south of the city. Mitchell started to mark out the beach and ended up doing it on the shore itself, plunking these markers down that would soon start flickering orange. As he did so he heard noise up ahead and in the growing gloom could make out some Starfleet cadets fooling around in the water.
“Hey! Hey! Get out of there, beach is closed!”
“Why don’t you get a proper job!” someone shouted. “Beach looks fine.”
“There’s…,” he wanted to shout shark. “TIDES!”
He dropped his markers and started to walk up the beach, rolling his sleeves up. He’d sooner lay out whoever responded than see him dead. As he drew on something caught his eye in the water. Coming from a quietly folding wave was the unmistakable outline of a fin. Gary stopped, his blood running cold as he saw the fin move quickly inland.
“Oh…oh shit!” He started to run, flapping his arms like an idiot. “Get out! Get out of the water!”
The cadets either did not hear him or thought he was a loon. They carried on their foolery in the water. Soon a great shadow crashed out of the water amidst the five or six cadets. Screams of fun became screams of horror as the shark let itself loose. Mitchell reached the group and plunged into the water. He began grabbing at anything he could to get people out. He latched onto an arm and started hauling before he shot back in the water. He stared at an arm he held. Nothing more. Just the arm. He threw it away as the horror continued. He stumbled back onto the beach next to two of the cadets who lay in the sand sobbing with fear. In the water the fin pushed away before vanishing, leaving behind a spreading pool of blood and gore.
Mitchell found his communicator on the waistband of his shorts and flipped the lid, pressing down on the emergency transmit button.
“This is Mitchell, Baker Beach, I…we have a shark.”
He dropped the communicator in the sand and promptly vomited into the grooves of the dune.
CHAPTER THREE
Baker Beach, morning
“The news this morning remains a stark remainder of nature’s power. It is now known that last night a Great White Shark believed to be upwards of eighteen feet in length attacked a group of Starfleet cadets and killed three…”
“Mitchell you really messed up big this time. I’ll have your…”
“My what? My badge? Get real, Clift, this was going to happen again…”
Civic Commissioner Barnard Clift glared at Mitchell as they stood away from the media circus. Reporters from the area as well as from far away as Alpha Centauri had landed on the beach at dawn. Clift’s hair was slicked back, his beady eyes wide and his suit creased. Having won re-election as to what was effectively a mayorship, he was not happy at this latest development.
“You always attract trouble.”
“And you always attract shit,” Mitchell pointed. “Look, it’s on your shoes.”
“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” joined in Carol Marcus, who stood roughly between them. “Gary’s right, sir, this was going to happen again but we never thought it’d be like this. This one’s likely come from somewhere we call the Café and made the journey in over the course of a year. We have sharks…”
“Spare me the lecture, Doctor. I want my beaches safe. Even in 2259 tourism is important to the city. Also, Starfleet doesn’t want their cadets being turned into seafood.” Clift’s glare deepened as he pointed at Mitchell. “And you didn’t tell me that there had already been a death. Doctor Wilshaw’s report landed on my desk just as I got the news about this.”
“We wanted to be sure it was a shark attack, Clift, unless you wanted beaches closed based on an unfortunate accident.” Mitchell did not have time for this nor indeed the stomach. He felt sick still but he was also feeling the trauma that had come the first time this had happened. His nightmares, even two years on, remained over the final moments of the first shark when he was almost swallowed by the thing.
Ed Wilshaw came over at this point, his feet sliding a little in the sand as he came up the slight dune. “Commissioner, the victims, those we found, were all subject to a shark attack consistent with a great white.”
Carol asked to see his tricorder which had some data on it. On the small screen was an image of a bite mark. She nodded. “That matches with the 2257 attacks.”
Clift visibly paled as if this was suddenly news in spite of his past bluster. “Then we close the beaches.”
“The shark has attacked twice in the Gate suggesting this is where it likes to hunt,” Carol said, handing the tricorder back and putting her hands in her pockets. “But then again it could be out in the Pacific by now.”
“Find it, Doctor and find it quick. I don’t want any more bodies washing up on these beaches.”
The commissioner stalked off to the waiting media scrum. Wilshaw folded the top of his tricorder down. “Sorry Gary, I had to…”
“I know you had to. Just bad timing.” Mitchell ran a hand through his hair. “Carol, can I help?”
“Sure. I’ll put the word out. The sooner we find it the better.”
“Yeah,” said Gary looking out to sea. “The sooner.”
**
“So, the seal disappearances were down to that shark.”
“Yes…”
“Why didn’t Carol say anything?”
Mitchell pushed away Lenore’s questions by turning away from her. The cable car continued its trek across Russian Hill via Lombard Street. One of those famous shots of a cable car from days of old. He put a foot on the running board. “The fact is, Lenore, we have a shark in the bay again.”
“You still don’t need to go out and get it.”
“Hell I don’t,” Mitchell growled. “It’s my responsibility, those beaches. At least four people have died on them already.”
“Then I’m coming too. You need someone who knows the waters and I grew up here so I know what’s going on in these waters.”
“I’m sure we’ll need all the help we can get.”
She stood ready to swing herself out onto the street. “You need me for sure.”
“It’ll be dangerous.”
Lenore muttered a curse and nudged him. “Spare me the old notions of chivalry. I might be a woman but I’m more than capable than anyone. You’re going up against a Great White Shark. I’m not too sure that discriminates against gender.”
For some reason that made Mitchell laugh. “You might just be right. Any good with a harpoon?”
“I had a damn fine aim at college.”
A few hours later Mitchell went home to his apartment near the Embarcadero. He drank some water and went to bed. He wanted to rest before going out that evening. Yet sleep became a savage nightmare. Wading out into the shallows of Baker Beach before teeth came for him. Big sharp…
CHAPTER FOUR
The civic technician waded away from the stone jetty on Alcatraz and began to dive. Wearing a flat oxygen pack and infra-red goggles he could stomach the cold waters of the Bay quite well. Pushing deep beneath the waters he turned back towards Alcatraz and a glowing light. The strong current pushed and pulled at him but he was able to keep going. Technicians who dealt with equipment in the Bay had to be highly proficient divers. This technician had come from Mars, where had grown up diving in the caves there. Attracted by Earth’s history he came and found himself another victim of the city here. Getting closer to the glowing light he attached a cable from his belt to the wall next to the light. This was a sensor that monitored shipping and environmental changes around Alcatraz. Alcatraz had been famed before the prison as a barren, rocky island and dubbed Pelican Isle by the Spanish.
The diver hummed to himself, feeling the currents nudge him and sweep over his legs. The light switched off as he opened the casing and began applying his pencil-shaped tools to the fixture. Next up would be sensors up by the Bay Bridge and that would be fun. Shipping, even in 2259, was still popular through that waterway into Oakland and Alameda.
As he turned the light back on and covered the casing he felt a particularly hard tug at his back. He glanced over his shoulder seeing only blackness. Turning back to his sensor he felt the water move around hard again and this time when he turned he swore he saw a large shadow. He began to push away with firm kicks of his flippers. He reached for his wrist light, turning it up to full. Algae swept past, a very small fish and beyond that darkness. Cursing he began to head for the surface when he was hit from below. The diver panicked as he felt something drag him down into the depths. Bubbles lit around him as he did so and he fought to retain his composure. He was abruptly released and surged upwards on a cloud of oxygen. The diver reached yet felt nothing through his gloves. He seemed to be okay. If he glanced he might have seen trailing behind him a thin line of blood. Either way it would not last long. As he passed fifty metres he saw a shadow slip ahead of him into his line of light. It descended towards him with a flick of its tail. The diver recognised it.
Goddamn, that’s a Great…
…he thought no more as the shark swept its large mouth over him and bit down.
Hard.
**
Gary Mitchell was at the Aquatic Park with Lenore when she got a message on her communicator.
“They want me at Alcatraz, god knows why.”
“Something to do with that fine you never paid?” he grinned.
“Maybe, let’s go.”
“Why me? Oh right, beefy security?”
“I wouldn’t know about beefy.”
They went down to the jetty tucked in behind a nineteenth century schooner and jumped into a Rigid Inflatable Boat. With Lenore at the rear they took off into the Bay. Zipping across the grey waters they chatted to each other. Since first meeting the two had become closer. In part this led to Mitchell ending it with Tonia Barrows but then he did not think that it would work with his current mindset. In the past year his depression had returned. He also felt that a Starfleet career woman like Tonia needed someone better. Lenore with her flaming red hair and passion for all things nautical seemed just what he needed in his life.
Alcatraz appeared dead and centre. There was a small boat moored just away from the stone jetty with SAN FRANCISCO HARBOR PATROL on the side.
“I don’t like the look of that,” shouted Mitchell.
“Me neither.”
She slowed the RIB down and coasted past the harbour boat to the stone jetty. There they were met by a man in the uniform of the California Park Agency. “Lenore, thank God and…you’re that lifeguard, Mitchell right?”
“Gary,” said Mitchell, holding a hand out. The hand was firmly shaken.
“Peter Hardcastle. Sorry Lenore, but you seemed the right person to call. We…we, er…”
He led them up onto the ‘land’ behind the jetty where hundreds of years ago new prisoners would stand shivering in rain or fog. Today was bright but cold. On the ground lay a shape under green tarpaulin. “We found him in the water, about an hour ago, or rather the harbour guys did. He was drifting out to sea.”
Hardcastle lifted the tarpaulin back, revealing what was left of a tall man. Much below the ribs was gone. What was left was gory to say the least. Shreds of bone and flesh. Lenore went white and put a hand to her face. Mitchell’s stomach lurched whilst his features hardened.
“Who…who was he?” Lenore asked in a whisper.
“Civic Engineer,” Hardcastle said, tipping his cap back. He looked nervous. For a man who seemed as hard as nails as he did, this struck Mitchell as weird. Hardcastle struck Mitchell as an ex-footballer or United Earth military. “He was fixing the west sensor down below. I registered him onto the island about two hours ago. When he didn’t come by I assumed someone else signed him out.”
Lenore looked up at Mitchell. “Gary, this is a shark.”
“Sheesh, keep it down.” Mitchell jumped. God, he was shaky. He remembered Barnard Clift’s words and groaned as he squatted next to her. “If this is our shark, this is the sixth victim at best now.”
“Sixth?” she echoed but shouted then louder still: “OUR. SHARK?”
He told the pair about the recent attacks, finishing with: “We’ve been lucky not to have so many…but this coming in now…”
He stood, grabbing at his communicator. Automatically he got the San Francisco Civil Communications Centre. “I need to be patched through to the Cetacean Institute at Sausalito.”
“One moment,” the almost mechanical voice of the operator said. Then he heard Carol’s voice.
“Cetacean Institute?”
“Gary here…Carol, listen up.” When he was done he waited for Carol to speak.
“Get over as soon as you can. I’ve been looking into this. Bring Lenore too and the body.”
“Seriously?”
“I need to see the teeth marks.” The line closed. Mitchell looked at Lenore.
“She needs to see the teeth marks.”
“Right, she needs to see the teeth marks.” Lenore stood. “Let’s go then.”
**
By virtue of luck, no one outside of Alcatraz and Carol Marcus knew about the latest death. Already this had become a worse incident than the one a year or so ago. Arriving at Sausalito with the remains of the diver, Gary and Lenore watched as it was placed on a stretcher and taken into the bowels of the Institute. Carol and two other women were standing waiting. The women were Doctors Mindy Rogers and Vax, of Andoria. The latter was young with short antenna that swivelled in curious directions towards the newcomers. Without preamble the two doctors began to analyse the body.
“They’re experts in this, we’re not just the preservation of life, we know our salt too,” Carol was saying. She saw the faded look on Mitchell’s face. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just getting a little tired of it all.”
“We’ll have to left Clift know soon,” Carol said with a sigh. “We close the beaches; we trawl the Bay for this thing.”
“Doctor Marcus,” Vax said loudly. She beckoned them all over. Gesturing with a pale blue hand she continued. “Wounds are consistent with a shark attack. A Great White. The bite mark is incomplete.”
“Incomplete?” asked Lenore. “How so?”
“The shark’s mouth would appear to be too big for a human to be effectively bitten.” Vax stood away from the table, lifting up her visor. “I would theorise the shark we are looking at is more than thirty feet long.”
God, thought Gary, the one last time was big and that was twenty foot.
“What happens to our diving friend?” he asked the Andorian.
“We’ll alert the morgue at City Hall.”
“Right.” Mitchell went to leave. Lenore caught up to him in the hall underneath the large Perspex Humpback whale. He looked down at her. “What?”
“Hey, mister, you okay?”
She had known Gary a year and felt by now she knew him better than most people. She was one of the few people he had talked to, really talked to, about his upbringing in Eldman. The death of his sister, then his mother. The coming out west on a ‘poor man’s’ scholarship. But also of the shark attacks last time round and the nightmares he still had. Lenore Milton stepped closer, her eyes piercing into him. “Come on now, I’m here.”
“I can’t do this again, Lenore. Six people have died now and we could’ve done something…”
“We weren’t to know this would happen as often as it has…look, it could’ve happened in the time since you know. You told me a month ago a swimmer went missing off the point.”
True. But everyone figured the body had been swept on strong currents out to sea.
“We’re going to stop the shark and I think we shouldn’t wait for Clift. Bureaucracy’s like an old steam train “ it takes a while to get going and is unstoppable when it does.”
He smiled at her. “You have a way with words.”
“And other things.” She winked and walked off. “Come on, Mitch, we have work to do.”
CHAPTER FIVE
San Francisco Marina
In the cabin of the cruiser that Mitchell had hired, he and Carol Marcus pored over a map. It showed the West Coast from Seattle down to Baja and went out to Hawaii. Red lines enclosed the area just east of Hawaii to the mainland. Carol was shaking her head. “It doesn’t make sense. April to July the sharks spend the time at the café or around the islands.”
Mitchell knew by now that the café in question was the area where all the sharks met to mate and eat before doing whatever sharks did. In most cases they spent a year travelling to the coast. Since the twenty-first century sharks had been seen as far north as Seattle which was odd because of cold waters and as far south as Mexico.
“Third World War messed up nature. We knew that much from the last shark.”
“True. They say the radiation that settled in the water from the fallout was dense enough to affect and mutate creatures.” Carol shrugged. “But that was two hundred years ago. Evolution can’t have carried on from that.”
Mitchell reached for a PADD. “Two months ago, three sailing boats in Seattle Harbour were attacked by a large shark-like creature which managed to swallow one and kill the sailor within. No sign of it since.”
“Now that was one of those genetic freaks.” Carol saw Mitchell’s eye-roll. “What?”
“This is crazy. Sounds like some bad movie.” Mitchell scrolled down. “Four months ago a tourist boat out of Los Angeles sees a fin. Minutes later the boat is rammed. There are then four or five reported sightings of a large Great White up the coast as far as Half Moon Bay, that’s just down from here. So maybe that’s our shark. Can it be?”
“If it’s had a constant source of food, then it can be.”
There was the sound of boots on the jetty at the rear of the cruiser and then Lenore’s voice, “Anyone aboard?”
“Come on in,” Carol called. Lenore stepped into the boat wearing a t-shirt, cut-off shorts and heavy shoes. She dumped a bag on the adjacent table. “Are you sure you’re ready?”
Carol’s sarcasm was not lost on Lenore. “I’m ready enough. This is a nice tub, Gary, who’d you rob to get it?”
“Funny.” Mitchell stood and went out on the small rear deck. The boat was not too dissimilar from the Institute’s boat that they used last time out and subsequently lost, except this one was white and called the Sea Wolf. “What you got?”
“Aside from a slight case of the blues, I have some harpoons, nets, bait…”
“Bait?” He peered at the bag she had dumped. “What bait?”
Lenore reached into the bag, producing what looked like a slab of meat. It smelt and both of the others recoiled. “Friend of mine at the Zoological Centre in South San Francisco gave it.”
“Sheesh,” Gary wrinkled his nose, “just how good a friend is he?”
Carol showed them both the sensors she had set up to the boat. Unlike the Cetacean Institute’s own boat “the Jacques Cousteau- this did not have amenities beyond the civilian computer and so she had made additions. The Institute wouldn’t trust them with another boat after the Ballard met its fate in the Golden Gate hunting down the last shark.
“I think we’re good to go,” Carol said. “I wish Jim was here.”
But he wasn’t. He was doing training on the old starship the Resolution within the ‘local’ confines of the Solar System. Mitchell wasn’t entirely sure Jim would want to be hunting down another shark.
“We’ll start it tonight. Temperatures will be cooler and we might have better luck with the thermal imagery,” Carol continued. She made an effort to smile. “Alright?”
There were nods and they parted. Simple.
Fisherman’s Wharf, afternoon
Fisherman’s Wharf remained a tourist trap even in this day and age, this time with intergalactic visitors. Fish traders did a roaring business with Andorians in particular. It was suggested that if only Andorians and other aliens had been around centuries ago, the fishermen that used to be here would still be here in business.
Either way tourists were not helping with what was going on at Pier 37. A huge crowd of people, mostly local men, were angrily clamouring for the attention of Barnard Clift on his makeshift podium. His amplified voice struggled to be heard.
“We will get that shark, six people that we know of, or five, isn’t acceptable I know!”
“If you spent more time out of City Hall, you’d know we’ve been saying that for years,” someone near the front called. “Sharks are affecting our business and this city.”
“Six people, a thousand, City Hall wouldn’t do nothing,” said another.
Clift looked around. Where was that Mitchell and his marine biologist friend? It was not Mitchell’s responsibility and yet Clift felt the need to pin the blame on him. Trouble seemed to attract itself to Mitchell and when it did, Clift was not far from the fallout. “We are dealing with it! Now, I’ll reward anyone who wants to get out and find the shark!”
“Now you’re talking,” the first caller said. “Any methods?”
“Within reason.”
A boat’s horn sounded, drawing Clift’s attention. Just out in the water past where the seals lay on Pier 39 was a white cruiser doing a slow turn. A blonde woman in a swimsuit was leaning over the side dangling a cable or some such. A woman with flaming red hair stood behind the blonde and on top…
“Mitchell.”
As if sensing Clift’s attention Gary Mitchell on the upper deck at the controls sounded the horn then opened the throttles up. Clift said to the gathered men: “Your competition’s got a head start, gentlemen. Time to get moving.”
Scrum did not begin to describe the breakup of the meeting. Clift was trying his luck, the Civic Board would meet soon and he’d be lucky to see re-election. He watched men run to their boats or get supplies. He just hoped he made the weekend.
On the boat Lenore cupped a hand over her eyes. “Looks like the locals are getting their pitchforks.”
“Idiots,” Carol said, straightening. “They don’t know where to look or how to. They’ll foul up the ecosystem with their bombing.”
“You think they’d actually depth charge the water?”
“Wouldn’t surprise me.” Carol turned, shouting up to Mitchell, “The sensors are fully deployed. I’ll go into the cabin.”
“Right.”
Lenore clambered up to join Mitchell. Her hair was caught in the wind and she smiled at him. “Nice jaunt for the evening.”
“Something like that.”
Night fell an hour later by which time the Sea Wolf was moored out in the Gate on a line parallel to Point Bonita. Carol believed that like last time the shark would come and go from the Bay. Going to Richmond was pointless; the water was warmer and too shallow in parts. Then again anything was possible. For now they’d try the Gate. The three stood in the cabin watching the computer screen. Several dots were out around them.
“The fishermen are plentiful,” observed Gary, rubbing his chin. “Will the shark get spooked?”
“Probably. It might work to our advantage.” Carol sat down, reaching for a button. A monitor lit up to show the left-side view of the water from underneath. Turning on the thermal imagery Carol sighed. “Hope your bait works, Lenore.”
“Me too.” Lenore had dropped the meat after the stern attached by a winding cord. She had changed into a swimsuit like Carol and had a mask ready for diving.
The boat rocked as another charged past. There were shouts aimed at Mitchell who shrugged. “Yokels.”
“Something on the scope, underwater,” Carol said, straightening. “Look!”
A red dot was on the sonar. Every time the green bar swept over it the dot grew brighter. “I take it we’re the blue dot?” Lenore asked, indicating the centre of the sonar.
“Yep.”
“And the red dot’s heading to us?”
“Yep.”
“Aw shit,” said Mitchell. He had seen this before, the last time when in the shark’s last moments it tried to ram the Ballard. He went out on deck and peered into the darkness astern. Carol called out: “It’s closing!”
Then he saw it, not the shark, it was a damn hydro-bike. A one man craft that was essentially a modern version of a jet-ski. The pilot’s legs dangled under water as the craft more or less travelled with a few inches under the surface. Almost like a self-keelhaul. The bike drew closer. Mitchell waved his arms then he ducked into the cabin, grabbing at a small rack by the roof. Back on the quarterdeck he cursed and fired the flare gun. A red flare soared at a diagonal towards Point Bonita, lighting the immediate area around the boat. The bike skimmed past making the cruiser rock hard in the swell. Mitchell went back inside, tapping a button on the computer’s left console.
“This is Sea Wolf to anyone who can hear this; one of you goons almost lost his bike against our stern. We’re lit up like a Christmas tree for god’s sake!”
“Hey lifeguard, shouldn’t play with the big boys if you can’t handle it,” said a voice.
“Is that you, Yates?”
“It is. That was my boy Mike from the shop. He’s looking for that shark.”
“No kidding. He’ll be your ex-boy soon, tell him to watch himself. Mitchell out.” Gary flopped down on a chair, cursing. Lenore glanced at him.
“Yates?”
“Rich Yates runs a shack down by the beach. Your run of the mill surf shack.”
“Ah right, I think I know who you mean.”
That was that. They sat on the Gate for hours, bothered and annoyed by the shark hunters. After this time the Sea Wolf’s anchor was raised and they set off for the Marina.
“I think we should moor at the Institute’s jetty,” Mitchell suggested as he steered the boat. “I don’t trust the hunters.”
“I agree,” Carol said. He had noticed a surge of confidence in her. She always had it but it was more on show now. “I’m sure the boss won’t mind.”
Gary went carefully into the Bay making sure his running lights were still lit. Lenore bounded up to where Gary and Carol were.
“You got to hear this on the intercom.” She leant past Gary to flick a switch on the dashboard. The air was filled with the panicked voice of a man:
“Help, help us…the shark’s attacking…this is Mark Yates. Out by Point Reyes…help!” Then the voice was lost in the bloodcurdling scream of someone in great peril. Without hesitation Mitchell swung the wheel around and gunned the engine. The boat leant hard into the swells before settling on her stern. Lenore went below to get equipment ready. Carol picked up the communicator handle: “This is Sea Wolf to Emergency Department, boat in distress at Point Reyes. Request help.”
“This is the Emergency Department, acknowledged Sea Wolf, rescue boats and shuttles are being dispatched.”
Carol glanced aside at Gary. His jaw was set grimly and his hands were firm upon the steering column. “That would be Yates’ son.”
“It would. Just what this stupid situation needs.”
At speed it did not take long to reach Point Reyes, jutting out southwest from Marin County. For some reason the emergency shuttle had not reached here yet. Mitchell slowed whilst Carol activated the searchlight fixed to the right-hand side of the Sea Wolf’s bridge. Lenore was down by the bow hands cupped to her mouth: “Can anyone hear me?”
The light swept over debris from a skimmer and then…
“Oh God, Gary,” whispered Carol. Mitchell stopped the engine. He stood to take in the sight of a torn body. Then there was another and a third.
“This isn’t any shark,” said Carol. “Typically they mistake a person for a seal or other prey. They don’t just attack a boat like they have done.”
“This is proving bloody,” muttered Mitchell. He then felt her hand on his back. “I’m fine, really.”
Carol Marcus was not so convinced. She looked up as the bright light of a rescue shuttle came over from the Headlands. The red painted Class-5 shuttle swung over the debris field.
CHAPTER SIX
City Hall (San Francisco Civic Centre)
Next day
Gary Mitchell sat in gloomy silence, arms folded, at the end of the long table whilst people on three sides argued amongst themselves. The people responsible for running the city were here. The so-called Emergency Department (amalgamation of what in old days would be ambulance/fire/police), Civic Administration (local government), Civic Engineers, Bay Area Control, heads from Oakland, Alameda, Richmond and San Mateo, Civic Guard (modern equivalent of the National Guard, a step below Starfleet), Starfleet themselves, Marine Institute, Civic Parks and all the rest.
“The body count is escalating. This is crazy!” someone from the Parks shouted.
“Must be more than one shark!” another interjected.
Gary was on the verge of going home. He had been up half the night here at City Hall waiting for the report on the latest deaths where it was confirmed it was a Great White. Logs taken from the skimmer showed a creature of great size ramming and that was it. Nothing more. Mitchell and Richard Yates had had a stand-up row in the lobby which was only ended when security separated them.
“I’m going after that shark more than ever! If I have to I’ll blow the city apart!”
“Don’t be an irrational ass. I know you’ve just lost your son but there’s a way of doing this and that’s not it!”
It wasn’t. Or maybe it was.
“Enough!” snapped Barnard Clift. His usual cheese-eating grin was gone, his face overdrawn and tired looking. “I am inclined to support the Marine Institute.” A clamour of voices. “Please. Doctor Marcus.”
Sat around from Gary Carol stood. She wore jeans and a green pullover with a visitors ID draped over it. “Gentlemen, ladies. What we are dealing with here is no ordinary shark. If you’ve had a chance to read the information I sent out, you’d see that sharks have been entering the Bay for centuries. That attacks on humans were very rare, at least in the San Francisco area. That the attack of 2257 was a chance, freak attack and that now…now, we’re dealing with worse.”
There was silence as she paused. “It’s possible there is more than one shark at large. It’s also possible that the shark in question is acting alone. I would theorise it is no more than fifty feet long with a top speed of around thirty knots. I would also theorise that we are dealing with some kind of modified shark.”
“Modified?” asked someone from the Emergency Department. “You mean by man?”
“In a way. We all know that the Third World War largely avoided this area in terms of nuclear weapons but the Pacific was heavily diluted by radiation after 2053. Though there was an excellent clean-up undertaken until 2100, there remained a length of time where sea life was affected. We have in the Institute for example ten species of fish found at the time which had been changed beyond their original shape. I believe that this here is a sub-species of Great White that has somehow survived these two hundred years. Hence its size.”
“But sharks have been known to be quite big,” the Starfleet representative said, holding up his PADD. “Your paper here says as much.”
“Yet here,” Carol said patiently, “we are seeing a possible survivor of the war. The teeth marks on the victims match a Great White but the teeth are sharper and closer together than a usual shark. Also, it seems to make its attacks in waters Great Whites never go into. It’s possible it’s been surviving in the Bay on other sharks like Leopards that live here.”
There was dead silence. Clift looked across the floor at Gary. “Mr Mitchell, anything to add?”
Stirred into life Mitchell shrugged. “What can I add?”
“You’ve been at the centre of this since the first attacks in 2257.”
“Doesn’t make me an expert.” He saw the disgruntled looks. “If I remember rightly, I was more or less given carte blanche to sort out that problem. And it worked.”
Clift gave a groan as if remembering it too. Maybe he remembered just how willing he was for to Mitchell to do anything so long as he, Clift, was absolved of responsibility. I almost died, Mitchell thought, almost died and this piece of whatever stays on covering himself in glory and for what?
“Are you saying you could stop this problem before it gets any worse?” the Starfleet officer asked. He spoke respectfully. “I’m no expert, Mr Mitchell.”
Gary glanced across at Carol then bunched his fists on the table, something that everyone saw. He appeared to be weighing things up, the weight of conscience perhaps. “Sonar and modern equipment seems useless. Sure, we’ve tagged sharks in the past but this one is breaking all the rules. WWIII broke the mould when it created this species, as some think. Carol…”
Marcus went over to a large wall monitor, tapping commands furiously into the small PADD and then standing aside. A map of the Bay Area appeared in vibrant dark blue with the outlines of land in yellow. There were several red dots in the Bay.
“What you see are the only known recorded movements of the shark. As you see not all are where the attacks actually happened which suggests this shark is not always detectable. The shark could be anywhere. The last attack up by Point Reyes suggests it could be out there, or it could be right into the Bay or it could even be down as far as…say, Half Moon Bay.”
“Let me and my…team,” Gary let a half-smile creep out, “do what we need to and we can get this bastard but it won’t be the last.”
“The Institute is working on new detection methods for these genetically altered sharks,” Carol explained, “and a way of helping improve the detection grid in the Bay Area.”
Starfleet nodded, apparently satisfied. “Well, Mr Clift, I’m happy to place efforts in Mitchell’s hands.” To Gary he added, “Whatever help you need, Starfleet will give you.”
“Great,” Gary said, standing. “Carol has the list.”
“You can’t be serious!” shouted Richard Yates at the far side of the room. The surf shack owner stood, his face crimson. He was not a slight man and the result was that it looked as if the Incredible Hulk had suddenly appeared amongst them. “Three people hunting that creature down, it can’t be done. You need more people.”
“Mr Yates, we understand you are in grief,” began Clift in a bland way.
“You don’t understand nothing. You want to cover your bureaucratic hide.”
That, Mitchell could agree with. “Yates, you’ll go haring around the Bay depth charging it and doing more harm than good. We know what to do, we’ve done it before.”
“You’re just a lifeguard, what do you know?”
“And what do you know? Selling junk to tourists and harassing locals who get on your wrong side. What do you know about it!?” Mitchell snapped. He came around the table, tapping Clift on the shoulder. “You know where to find us.”
Mitchell stormed out, ignoring the furore now kicking off in the meeting room. Carol was only able to catch him by the time he reached the stairs leading down into the lobby area. Their voices echoed where many had over the centuries.
“Gary, are you okay?”
Carol actually stepped back when Mitchell swung about, such was the look on his face. “Why do people keep asking me? I’m fine. I’m fine.”
He continued walking and then abruptly crumpled to his knees near the edge of the steps. When Carol got to his side she saw the tears on his cheeks and heard the sobbing wracking his body. Standing next to him she held his head against her and made reassuring noises.
“It’ll be alright, Gary, I swear.”
**
USS Conrad NCC-991, Pluto Orbit
“Now hear this, Ensign Kirk you have a transmission from Earth waiting in your cabin. Now hear this, Ensign Kirk…”
James T. Kirk hurried to his cabin fearing the worst. His mother had not been in good health of late and he worried…or could it be Sam? George Samuel Kirk Junior was on Delta Vega Colony learning how to be a scientist or was it David? No…! It wasn’t like Kirk to be so worried; maybe it was the nature of his life now. He was training to be a Starfleet officer and under so much stress of late. The old Daedalus-class Conrad “named for the Apollo 12 commander and third man on the Moon ‘Pete’ Conrad- was taking Kirk’s class and other year ones on what was known as the trip round the block: Training within the Solar System, starship life, starship operations, EVAC missions (such as the one yesterday landing on Pluto from the ship itself) and all the rest.
Skidding into his small cabin that he shared with another ensign, he flicked on his monitor. “This is Kirk, I’m ready.”
“Enter authorisation code,” the computer’s mechanical voice demanded.
“Ask nicely…Kirk, Tiberius One-A-Two-B-A.”
“Acknowledged. Channel open.”
As Carol’s strained face appeared, Kirk settled into his chair. “Carol, what is it? What’s happened?”
“Nothing major, Jim, not too major,” she said and then explained the events of the week. When she finished Kirk was quiet. “You there, Jim?”
“I’m here. I had no idea…”
“You don’t get San Francisco news up there.” She tried to laugh but it sounded false and she stopped. “I’m worried about Gary; it’s why I’m calling. I think he’s still affected by the last shark incident. He broke down in City Hall yesterday; I’ve never seen him like this Jim.”
Kirk weighed this up for a moment. Gary was his oldest friend “those he’d known in Riverside he had lost contact with since coming out here- and it was he who was responsible for Kirk being here. That’s what Kirk thought at any rate. Gary had supported him getting into Starfleet even if his own career had stalled. Knowing his friend was cracking worried James Kirk. Kirk realised that Gary was more than a friend, he was a brother.
“His conscience over the deaths from the last time,” Kirk carefully said, “never left him. He felt personally responsible for each one. Especially that girl, Kate. Now he has more on his mind, his perceived fault and he’ll not…, damn!” Kirk punched the desk, feeling frustrated. “I’ll come home.”
“No!” Carol all but screamed. Her face coloured, she pointed at the monitor. “Listen to me James Tiberius Kirk, you stay there. You’re a cadet for crissakes and you’ll stay there until it’s time. Understood?”
A little chastened, Kirk nodded. “Ma’am.”
“Good.”
“You sound like my mother.”
Carol managed a smile. “Not the worst thing I’ve been called.”
“How’s David?”
“He’s fine. My sister Dinah came out to work and she’s taking care of him whilst I deal with this.”
Kirk smiled. “I hope you…good hunting, Carol.”
“You too, Jim. I love you.”
“I love you.” He touched the screen with his forefingers before it went black. He sat there a moment then keyed the intercom. “Bridge, can I connect to Starfleet Medical?”
“Ensign, this isn’t your personal communications board you know,” the voice of Lieutenant Kathryn Jameson said sounding faintly amused.
“Please, Kate. Just one.”
“That’s what they all say. Okay, make it snappy, the skipper’s off the bridge at the moment.”
Kirk smiled again. “I owe you one.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Starfleet Medical, Starfleet Command
Old Presidio, San Francisco
April 28
“Citizens and visitors to the city are once again urged to stay away from the water until the shark menace has passed. Civic Commissioner Barnard Clift assures everyone that all is being done to capture the shark and ensure safety in the Bay.
In other news, Captain Christopher Pike today made contact with…”
Piper muted the televisor in his office. He looked through the Plexiglas partition, past the Starfleet Medical emblem on the window, at the biobeds where Mitchell, Marcus and Milton were. He did not want to rouse them from their examinations which were still ongoing. Lenore had gone into shock after arriving at Starfleet Medical and was being treated for that. Only Carol Marcus seemed to be untouched in any way. Not bad considering she had effectively been depth charged.
He sat down, rubbing his face wearily. It was not yet evening and he was tired. He remembered the last shark hunt and that had been the biggest thing to hit San Francisco probably since the UFP’s formation in 2161.
“Doctor?”
He looked up to see one of his nurses standing there. A bright attractive Bostonian she was one for the future, he was sure. “Yes, Autumn?”
Autumn Murphy known to most as Amy gave her sure-fire smile. “The patients are wanting to leave.”
“Okay, I’ll come out.” Piper lumbered into the ward, hands in pockets. “So, I have a mutiny.”
“If you think we can go, we’d like to go,” said Mitchell, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and pulling on his t-shirt. “I’ve been poked and prodded enough.”
“You’re all fine but you mustn’t push yourselves…”
“Who’s pushing?” Lenore said. “We’re doing all right.”
She sounded tired, they all did. “You’re pushing yourselves beyond your limits. This shark can wait until morning.”
“Hell it can.” Mitchell was now on his feet. “Respectfully, Doc, we need to get it before this death toll increases.”
“Nothing to stop you, so go,” Piper said a little hotly. As Mitchell passed last he grabbed him roughly by the arm, swinging him around. The women did not see as they had quickly left. Only Autumn Murphy saw and she froze to the spot. Mitchell was about to shout when Piper’s look silenced him. “Just what are you trying to prove? That you can break yourself and these women in the process? I told you, you are going too fast and you could kill yourself if this keeps up.”
“Thanks Doc, but I’ve got a dad.”
As Mitchell went to carry on Piper’s firm grip held him. “I know about your old man, Mitchell. I’ll be more of a father figure than him. I also am a doctor in Starfleet, not just that, I’ve been a doctor since you were in slim jims and I’ll be damned if you act this way!”
Mitchell stared at him, then backed up rubbing his arm. How did he know about my dad? Jim? I’ve only ever told Jim. So much for that buddy…Look, Jim cares…and Piper isn’t a blabber. He shook his head to stop the tumbling thoughts. “There is a shark out there, like I told you this morning, and we need to get it.”
“Just watch yourself, Gary,” Piper’s hard voice remained, “I’ll be damned if I bury you.”
“It won’t come to that. I promise.”
Piper let him go, reluctantly. The nurse broke the silence. “That was…intense, Doctor.”
“Worse things happened,” Piper murmured then tried a smile. “Sign off for the day, Autumn. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Mitchell on his way to catching up with the women passed various floors and offices. He almost walked in on an autopsy class (“Remember, when making the first incisions on a Tellarite, you make sure the body’s pressure is low”) until reaching a first floor landing made him pause. He walked in through old fashioned hinged doors and stopped at a similarly old fashioned door with frosted glass (if he chose to remember, Gary would know this was a building that mostly pre-dated the century. Much came before Archer’s time and so technology was a hodgepodge of 21st Century knowhow and 23rd Century know-what) marked up with lettering: DOCTOR SANDRA APRIL (PSYCHOLOGIES AND MISSCN. FIELDS).
He knocked and when he heard a voice he stuck his head in, reminding himself of Eldman High School days. Gary Mitchell, your grades are slacking. Sit down whilst I lay out what you need to do to improve.
“Doctor April?” he asked quietly.
Her office was quite small with a desk in one corner, a couch to the left and a wall painting of the Enterprise. The woman behind the desk in medical blue took off spectacles. She had shoulder length dark blonde hair and a warm face that immediately made Gary feel at ease.
“Come in, Gary.”
He frowned, stepping inside. She saw his look. “I was expecting you. Mark’s an old friend of mine. When I agreed to see you whenever, I did some looking. You’re as handsome as your photo shows.”
Mitchell blushed. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Sit down and don’t call me ma’am, I’m likely old enough to be your mother but I don’t want to feel it!” She chuckled standing whilst he sat. “Coffee?”
“Please.”
When she came back with two mugs Gary felt a little nervous. “I…I should get going.”
“I have nothing planned for the afternoon. Not unless you want to help file my records. No? I didn’t think so,” she laughed. Her accent was ‘transatlantic’. Every now and then vowels sounded British and yet she sounded American. From what Gary remembered, she had joined the Enterprise as her first CMO under her husband’s command. Two tours of five year missions later she worked here whilst he took up head of Starfleet Operations.
“Shall we begin?”
He took a sip of his coffee. “Where do I start?”
“Wherever you like.”
“All right.” He paused then nodded, “I was born in Eldman out East…”
**
When he left two hours later, it was growing dark. He got in touch with Lenore who was parked up in a coffee bar just outside the Presidio. Carol had gone back to the Institute. When he met up with Lenore and he kissed her in front of everyone, there were cheers and applause from cadets in high school fashion. Then he sat down and talked to her.
Nothing more, nothing less.
CHAPTER NINE
San Francisco, April 29
It rained.
This did not stop things. Why would it? Sharks were hardly going to stop.
Mitchell took things ahead, he went round to Tiburon to an old friend of his who ran a yard close to the Institute and effectively brought an old fashioned yacht with single deck configuration and engine. He still had some equipment left over even though Starfleet was worried he would lose this now.
He took the boat “which he christened Lottie Mitchell after his sister (he liked to think she would take her derring-do attitude to this like a duck to water) - to the marina and planned out a search pattern. The shark liked, it seemed, to attack near land or islands. He took this theory to Carol who agreed and recommended that they patrol the Bay immediately. Lenore did not seem that keen yet decided to come anyway.
“I’m worried that you’re still shaken up by yesterday,” Mitchell said to Lenore as he steered the boat out into the Bay.
“I’ll be fine. It’s not often you get tipped into the water by a shark.”
“Okay.” He was not convinced.
After his talk with Doctor April he felt a little different. The old Gary Mitchell was returning perhaps. Or maybe he was feeling the tranquilisers. He didn’t want to be dependent on them anymore than he wished.
The rain left low cloud cover over the Headlands and much of the Bay. Rolling fog was building out at the Gate as the rain moved off. Soon the Lottie Mitchell, out by San Pablo Bay, was blanketed by the fog. Mitchell activated all the relevant systems including bright running lights. The old tub reacted well. He had feared her system would overload entirely. Leaving the wheel he joined the women at the computer console. Carol was keenly watching the sonar screen.
“I’ve reconfigured for larger objects. It might detect the odd school of fish.”
A foghorn sounded in the gloom. The gentle tapping of water upon the boat was the only other sound.
“There!” Lenore pointed at the screen. A large blue dot out to the southeast down near the Brooks Island was visible. Gary went back to the steering column. Pulling on the throttle he spun the wheel around. Lenore went to the bow to activate the searchlight to probe the fog. Carol navigated them in.
The fog parted a little out near the island, barely revealing the shoreline beyond that of Richmond. Mitchell slowed the boat, feeling the reverberations of the shuddering motor run up through the column. Carol came to ditch netting over the side then threw out the bait they had. Like last time they had pilfered scraps from the seafood joints on Fisherman’s Wharf.
A fin shot up through the dark cold waters off the starboard side. Carol called to Gary to slow the boat down. He could see the fin from where he stood in the cabin. It was massive, and this was just the fin. The rest of the shark would be huge. He reached for his communicator.
“Lottie Mitchell to Starfleet Command, we have the shark in our sights. We need extra craft if we’re going to get this bastard in.”
“Acknowledged, Mr Mitchell, standby. We’re organising support craft.”
The fin prowled parallel to the Lottie Mitchell then it straightened as the shark came at the boat. It was like before, this was no effort to get the bait. This was a pure, all-out attack. Captain Nemo attacking at speed in the Nautilus.
“Gods teeth!” Mitchell pushed the throttle open, spinning the wheel to the left. The fin straightened again as it corrected course. Eyes and a hint of mouth appeared above water. The beast was doing at best thirty knots. The shark struck just off the bow but it was a glancing blow and all it caused was a severe rocking. Gary corrected the list and turned to starboard. Carol wiped water off her face. Lenore came down the boat to open the photonic cannon’s case.
“We need to get this intact!” Carol shouted.
“We can stun it.”
“With a photonic cannon!?” Carol was incandescent with surprise. She tried to stop Lenore but gave up. The shark was trying to kill them. When did she stop being a marine biologist and become the other? The shark was coming for them again, this time from the bow. Mitchell reversed the throttle yet this time the shark made contact and held fast. He heard the wrenching of wood and metal from the bow. Ducking out of the cabin he quickly picked up a ten foot pole used to push the boat away from the jetty or some such and ran forward. The two women were still trying to get the cannon ready.
Mitchell climbed on top of the bow where he could see the shark’s mouth wrenching the bow in its jagged teeth. Something consumed Mitchell at this time. His mind went black, his vision shifted. Maybe ever since Moby Dick or time immemorial man, when faced with a foe, became all consumed by hatred and a determination to kill the foe. That no matter what, killing the foe would eliminate the feeling inside one. Ever since the shark of 2257 Mitchell had been blocked by some kind of mental darkness and now perhaps he would eliminate that darkness.
He slammed the pole down into the shark with all his might, driving it into the beast’s left eye, watching the blood pour forth and hearing a strangled animalistic wail.
Of course, this had repercussions.
The shark abruptly pulled away from the boat with blood coming from its mouth. Its movement was so violent that Mitchell was hurled off the boat, still holding onto the pole. He hit the water with a hard splash, yelping with the feeling of cold water. He let go off the pole, kicking away from the shark which was wheeling about, the pole bobbing from it like a spinning top. On the boat the women were shouting at Mitchell and the shark. Carol fired a flare gun into the air “where was Starfleet? Where was anyone?
Mitchell saw the shark come upon him. For an instant the right eye of the shark met Mitchell’s and then they were together. Mitchell found himself grappling with the beast, holding onto the snub nose whilst trying to kick at it. Trying to keep his legs and body away from the mouth. This bastard had killed almost a dozen people and Mitchell had to end it.
Except it wasn’t Gary that ended this. As he wrestled the shark, a bright light lit up the sky dispelling the fog like dust. One moment the shark was there, the next Mitchell was holding onto a bit of the shark whilst the rest showered the Bay. Blinded, Mitchell let go and fell away into the depths.
Putting down the photonic cannon Lenore dived into the waters heading deep. Carol watched the scene, the water now was littered with bits of bone and flesh. She glanced up as two sleek craft jetted up from San Francisco, skimming across the water. She waved at them and wondered just why the hell they didn’t show up sooner?
A minute later Lenore surfaced with her arms around Mitchell.
“Can we go home now?” Lenore called.
“Sure, right after ice cream,” Mitchell was heard to say.
EPILOGUE
Cetacean Institute, Tiburon
May 1, 2258
“Welcome to the Cetacean Institute, here on the Tiburon peninsula, my name is Mindy and I will be your guide today. We’ll start off straight from the bat: here we have our whale hall. The common misconception is that whales are fish. They’re not, they’re mammals, warm creatures like you and I. Up until the twenty-first century they were hunted into extinction.”
“To hunt a species into extinction is not logical.”
“That’s putting it mildly. Here is archive footage from the 2120s of one of the last sperm whales being hunted…”
In the two days since the shark had been destroyed the hubbub over it had more or less flowed away. Through Gary Mitchell’s efforts more was being done now to keep tabs on Great Whites but also improve warning systems in the Bay Area. Even Starfleet would be involved, using their systems to help keep an eye on the Bay for predators. The odds were still slim; some scientists theorised that two fatal incidents in three hundred years wasn’t altogether bad.
“…Moby Dick was fiction though good fiction. If you come down with me, I’ll show you our shark hall. This is a relatively new exhibit.”
Marine biologists and scientists from all over were coming here at the weekend to discuss sharks. The furthest coming were from Pacifica, a world dominated by water and said to have sharks twice the size of a whale shark.
“Whoah, what’s that?”
“That is the carcass of the shark destroyed this week. As you see we’ve been able to mock it together and preserve it using water spray.”
Standing off to the other side was Carol Marcus with Gary Mitchell. They watched the schoolkids, which did include a couple of overly curious Vulcans, goggle at the shark.
“How do you feel now, Gary?”
“A little better. Like a weight’s been taken away from me.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows, Doctor April still wants me to see her.”
“Is Lenore okay?”
“She said she’s going to stay in Lake Tahoe for a week, I can join if I want, but I reckon she’ll want to be alone.”
Lenore had actually said a doctor had recommended time away so she could recuperate from the ordeal. She would come back better and stronger, Mitchell knew. Their parting at the transporter had been suitably emotional even for him.
“Jim?”
“He’ll be back next week.” Carol smiled, seeing one of the Vulcan children stand as close to the shark as possible, scrutinising it. “If only they saw what we did.”
“It’d turn them so green they’d look like a vegetable.”
The child caught Mindy’s attention: “Excuse me, you say like Moby Dick, Jaws was not based in reality and yet it must have been. Fatal attacks have occurred on this planet for centuries. Also, this very shark and the one over there…”
“You shouldn’t read too much into it. These were rare attacks.”
“Indeed, why was the creature not relocated or simply captured?” the Vulcan asked, little eyebrow raised. Mindy sighed with exasperation; she saw the others across the room and shrugged. “Sometimes the needs of the many outweigh the needs or wants of the few. Sometimes you have to act in the moment and that is what happened here. We still get to study this creature and find out about it.”
That seemed to placate the young Vulcan and Carol who mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ at her and took Gary’s arm. Leading him towards the steps she smiled. “David’s growing up so fast. I’m sure he said ‘Dad’ the other day.”
“When he’s older I’ll teach him how to fish.”
“So long as there are no sharks about, right?”
In the weeks following a memorial to victims of both shark attacks was erected in the Vulcan Gardens at Golden Gate Park. A shark sighted in the Bay that same week caused brief panic though it was not seen again.
Commissioner Barnard Clift faced a snap election.
Emerging topside of the Institute at its outdoor aquarium which lay empty, Gary rested against the railings.
“It feels good to see another sunset.”
“It does indeed.”
They stayed there in silence, leaving sharks to the memory and curious Vulcan children to a worn out marine biologist.
END
Gary Mitchell Lifeguard continues in Episode 6, “Sometime in the Morning”-
During a thunderstorm all Hell, as is often the case, breaks lose.
Note-
Good Vibrations was that alternate Mitchell and was also a pastiche of films like Jaws or mainly Jaws and so the plot was similar I suppose. In some respects the whole series was meant to be like that. Our Mitchell, but not, and with storylines echoing films and stuff. Books 2 and 3 went a different route -#2 was more an episode of Quincy (latter-day Quince) and #3 was some episode of Friends or Ed.
But with #4 I did disaster movies and thus this episode. This was a knock of Jaws 2 and the other horrific sequels. I also realised I could make it full circle from the first story. Since that story Mitchell has become a darker man and maybe it was the shark so here we tied it up. I suspect my own demons affect my characters; certainly Beverly Crusher is a little different to how she was.
Anyway, here we had it “Jaws 2 in Mitchell form. Rest assured there will be no more shark stories.