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.”