There was something he wanted her to see.
Or perhaps he only wanted to see it himself, but he asked her to go along. It was August, but he said it could be cold. She believed him. She had only seen Puget Sound in February, had been in Seattle two weeks and it had drizzled non-stop. It seemed that if it would just rain it could be done in a day or so.
They transported into the Sea-Tac Teleport early in the summer evening, into a room surrounded with glass, so that their first view was of mighty Mount Rainier, bigger than you could possibly imagine from a photo. The natives had called it Tacoma, Mother. It so completely dominated the landscape, and yet she had never seen it during her two week stay.
They traveled by hovercraft northward to Mukilteo to catch the ferry. In the interest of historical preservation (and more tourists dollars) the hovercraft did not service Whidbey Island. With the little altitude achieved by the craft, they could see the snowcapped Olympics to the west, across the Sound, and the mightier Cascades to the east, anchored by Mount Rainier to the south and smaller but still imposing Mount Baker to the north, all shining brilliantly in the summer sun.
They boarded the ferry and climbed the stairs to the upper deck, standing at the railing studying the ancient light house standing on the point, watching the sea lions play in the surf beneath it. She had never seen such sea mammals. Seagulls played over their heads, hoping for a handout and being generally successfully.
The speakers announced their eminent departure, and the huge ferry pushed away from the dock. The crossing was only twenty minutes, and at mid-channel they passed an identical ferry returning to Mukilteo. There was ten knots of wind over the deck now and she was cold and knew that he had to be, but the air was fresh and invigorating and they did not go inside.
They disembarked in Clinton, on the Southern tip of the island, and boarded a bus to take them northward to Penn Cove. The English Captain Vancouver had traveled to the Pacific Northwest in the late nineteenth century looking for the fabled Northwest Passage from the backside. He sent Captain Whidbey in his own ship to explore the inner confines of Puget Sound, who in turn sent his Lieutenant Penn in a small boat through Deception Pass, hopeful the pass was the western outlet of the Passage. Instead, Penn found himself circumnavigating an island they would name Whidbey. He made Penn Cove his own namesake, not wanting to claim too much for a lowly lieutenant, she supposed.
The bus took the scenic route up the eastern shore of the island, rather than traveling straight up the middle. She was completely taken in by the view; Mt. Baker standing sentinel over Puget Sound, the sun glinting blindingly off the mountain and the water. They arrived at their destination, the Captain Whidbey Inn, no less, still widely known for it's rustic appeal and hospitality. It was a large log structure, centuries old, built from the native Madrona Trees that grew on the surrounding bluffs, the Inn itself located nearly at sea level.
They went to check in and drew a few curious stares, mainly from other tourists. The Inn was crowded with people, and she wondered how he had gotten a room on such short notice. She finally realized that of course they knew who he was, and for whatever reason he had not minded using that to his advantage this time.
They went to have their dinner. The dining room was noisy, which did not fit it's quiet atmosphere.
"Why are there so many people here?" she asked him. The crowds seemed out of place on the island.
"The whales have finally come back," he replied.
Puget Sound was home to three pods of mighty Orca Whales, arguably one of the most beautiful animals to inhabit Earth's oceans. In the late twentieth century, Washington State had become the premier hunting ground for live "killer whales" for public aquariums world wide. The Orca's were known to frequent Penn Cove, much to the delight of the residents along the shore and in the town of Coupeville. During one week in the summer of 1972, a large group was trapped in the cove and netted. Two or three adults were taken away from the family group they had spent their entire life with, sent to distant aquariums for a solitary existence. Several whales, mainly juveniles, drowned in the nets.
The Orca's never returned to Penn Cove.
Day arrives early in the summer in the Pacific Northwest, and stays late, making up for the short dark days of winter, she now realized. They were up early to beat the crowds, and climbed narrow Madrona Way, now a foot path, before the sun had cleared the Cascades.
They made it to the highest part of the bluff and sat in the grass, overlooking the mussel rafts floating in the Cove. They could see the entire Cove from here, looking westward across it to Ebey's Prairie, set aside as a preserve centuries ago, covered completely with purple wild flowers that were bathed in the earliest morning light. Over her shoulder, to the northeast, the sun was breaking over Mt. Baker, a beautiful site she could not look at for long.
As the sun climbed a little higher, the shadows lifted from the water, and the birds resting on the surface began to stir. She was beginning to wish she had some coffee when he spotted a tall black dorsal in the water and pointed it out to her. She was shocked by it's size and stood impulsively, excited by the sight. She soon realized it was not alone in the water, noticing the other dorsals of varying sizes swimming along side.
One of the whales finally breached, beautiful black and white against the gray of the water, falling back into the water with a splash. She had never seen anything like this on Vulcan.
"Is there any creature such as this anywhere else but on Earth?" she asked him.
"None that I know of," he replied.
"Why do you think they came back now? Do you believe it is only coincidence?"
He did not answer for a long moment. "Perhaps not," was his only reply.
"They waited a long time," she noticed. The Enterprise crew had returned the other whales to Earth seven years ago.
"Seven years is not so long after three centuries."
She only nodded.