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The chaos is unbearable for Osman.
The conflict between the submarine crew and the plane group, combined with the universal threat of the missile, has caused a situation too complex to solve. He can’t even imagine what Sylvie, Ines, Horst and Laura must have thought when they landed in Svalbard, only to be met with a scene of destruction. Amidst the madness that followed, he had learnt from Sylvie that the last of their group were chased out the Bulgarian bunker by soldiers, and that Rik sacrificed his life in the moment to ensure the others’ safety.
Osman didn’t particularly care for Rik when he was alive; the older man’s ignorant view of the world left a sour taste in his mouth. But he now holds great respect for his sacrifice.
Thankfully, the Moroccan had managed to find a short period of calm within the chaos. He finds himself sitting on the deck of a short pier, gazing out at the landscape Svalbard has to offer. It’s a beautiful sight. Out of all the airports and tourist destinations he’d visited in his life, he hasn’t seen anything like this- nothing like these rolling, white mountains, tinged green by the dancing northern lights in the sky.
And he isn’t alone in his observations.
“The aurora borealis is strong tonight.” Rana says, kicking her legs that dangle from the pier, “It’s pretty.”
“It is.” Osman responds. He turns around to look at the young scientist.
She’s small, and has a mane of wavy hair that makes her look even smaller. Child-like, Osman thinks. She had been in a state of panic when he found her, curled up behind the wheel of the plane. Ayaz had killed one of her own, they all know that now; so it took a while for Osman to convince her that he meant no harm and to find a more suitable place to calm down.
A loud splashing sound suddenly echoes around the dock.
“What was that!?” Osman panics, scrambling to his feet. He pulls Rana up, readying themselves to flee from the next wave of danger, but the young Turk shakes him off.
“Look out to sea, Osman, look!” Rana exclaims, pointing her finger at some movement a couple hundred yards from the pier. Her voice is filled with awe and excitement, contrary to the fear-stricken tone used by the Moroccan.
He stops in his tracks, breathing heavily.
A large, dark shape glides out of the water, followed by a smaller silhouette just behind it. A tall spray of water ejects from the larger mass.
“They’re whales!” Rana announces gleefully in a hushed voice, not wanting to startle the allusive mammals.
She slowly sits back down onto the pier and ushers Osman to do the same. For a minute he’s speechless, mesmerized at the sight of the mammoth aquatic creatures. The smaller silhouette momentarily dives back down into the depths of the sea, flashing its small dorsal fin in the process, before bobbing back up to the surface.
“How are they still alive?” Osman finally asks, adjusting his orange beanie as he speaks. He recalls how Dominik claimed to see some sort of rodent alive in the hospital back in Belgium, but apart from that, every animal they’ve seen on the surface has been dead.
“Certain species of whale can dive thousands of metres, that’s deep enough for the sun not to penetrate. That’s probably how this mother and calf have survived!” Rana explains enthusiastically, her eyes wide and glued to graceful movements of the whales.
Osman goes to respond but pauses, taking a second to understand.
“But whales… they’re mammals, they have to come to the surface to breathe pretty often, right?” He finally questions.
Rana brings one of her hands to her chin and furrows her brow, trying to calculate something.
“Generally speaking, whales have to come to the surface to breathe every hour… so you’re right… that doesn’t add up. Svalbard isn’t in its season of complete darkness yet.”
She crosses her arms and blinks furiously. Osman watches her as she processes her ideas; he finds it fascinating to see the visual thought process of a scientist. She finally speaks up.
“They are incredibly intelligent animals, both emotionally and physically. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve found a way to survive that we haven’t.”
The Moroccan nods thoughtfully at Rana’s conclusion and looks back to sea. The mother whale is gliding around the perimeter of the dock, her dark, thick skin gleaming white and green under the light of the moon and the aurora. Her calf swims alongside her, occasionally dipping below the surface and bobbing back up on her other side, as if it was playing a game. Perhaps it is.
“Did you say whales can feel emotion?” Osman questions, referencing a fact the Turk had shared earlier.
“Yeah, they do.” Rana starts, swinging her legs again. “Some whales have spindle neurons, a kind of brain cell which causes empathy and emotional intelligence. Anthropomorphism is a scientific sin, but whales? They’re just like us really.”
Osman huffs out an exasperated sigh in amusement.
“You’re extremely intelligent Rana, you know that, right?” He smiles, turning to look at the young scientist.
She giggles lightly and shrugs her shoulders.
“I’m just a scientist.”
Osman chuckles at her humble remark and pats her on the shoulder. She doesn’t flinch at his touch, instead she warms to it.
“Maybe when all of this-” he makes an unspecific motion with his hand- “madness is over, and our two groups start working together, you can talk to Horst. He’s our resident scientist.”
Rana looks up at Osman with interest, tilting her head slightly.
“What does he specialize in?”
“Climatology I believe.”
Rana smiles as she nods and looks back out to sea.
“That would be cool.”
The pair sit in peaceful silence for a few minutes, the only noises gracing their ears being the gentle lapping of water around the majestic animals’ bodies. The calf appears to almost jump through the waves, causing white spray to quietly fizz every time the mammal hits the surface.
“Whales are also great at keeping the peace, despite competition between the different pods. It’s fascinating.” Rana chirps up, as she watches the whales glide out of the bay.
The larger whale turns around, flashing its large, defined tail in the process. The pair are able to spot one of the creature’s large, soulful eyes. It’s full of wisdom, and Osman wonders why he’s never paid much thought to these incredible creatures before.
Suddenly an explosion of gunshots and shouting erupts from behind them.
Rana jumps and cries out at the sound, and Osman just wraps his arm around the girl tighter. They should be safe at the pier, but the orchestra of noise is agonising to hear. He feels the way Rana’s shoulders tense to the sound of violence, and he sighs. What kind of world are they making for themselves?
“I suppose we could learn something from the whales.” He exhales, reluctantly being brought back to reality.