Vanguard | Post-Apocalyptic YA

Part 10: Saying Goodbye

My dad was never one for gratuitous, social niceties. 

Even as a newly minted Post-Doc working on a top secret project to retrofit a space station into a submersible base when everything topside was going to shit, only a few people knew about his existence much less interacted with him. After almost twenty-five years in a confined environment, he still doesn't have many friends. Commander August Lamer is one of the lucky few, but that's probably because he's a stickler for precision and Darren Scott is a damn good engineer. Funny thing is that it was exactly the opposite with the former official in charge of Vanguard. For some reason, the relationship between my father and Commander Elise Christiansen was downright antagonistic. All that changed when Commander Christiansen died a few years ago and Lamer took over.

I'm actually surprised he's here, but then again, attending a memorial service for his daughter who everyone thinks is dead wouldn't exactly qualify as unusual even for a hermit.

The term memorial service is also probably too generous. Because the quarterdeck is the largest, single space on the base, every pilot is here, and we're all lined up in our uniforms, it feels more like roll call. What is new is that there's a large, hand-drawn portrait of Ellen displayed at the front – it's quite life-like and probably made by one of the professional artists on board – and several rows of chairs are on the side for civilian mourners.

Because I know she's not dead and I'd rather be any place else than here, I don't really pay attention. It's all some mushy stuff about how wonderful my twin sister was, how much potential she had, yadda, yadda, yadda. A few of the seated people are crying including Mrs. Lee who taught us marine ecology two years ago. She's such a sweet woman that I'm now feeling really bad for keeping what I know a secret, but then I remember Ray and my guilt turns to anger.

If it wasn't for him, we could have already rescued Ellen. But my stupid friend had to go all "the good of the many outweighs the good of the few" on me. I could have sworn he nearly failed that philosophy course we took a while back, but I guess something did stick. I wish I could give him the stink eye, but I'm up front again and he's all the way in the rear. That's just part of his punishment for steamrolling me yesterday. He's also been suspended for two weeks while I've been immediately reinstated to my former rank of Lieutenant, with all due privileges. It's a bittersweet victory because I'm that much closer to accomplishing my goal of being able to return topside, but I'm down a best friend.

It doesn't take much time for Dunstan to finish the modifications to my Skipper so it can now be remotely sunk. Unfortunately, we still haven't figured out a way to make it ascend and without that, I may as well forget my whole plan. I spend an increasing amount of time in my room looking through my dad's engineering books, but sadly, I didn't inherit his knack for it. Later in the week, I'm scrolling through Submarine Mechanics for the hundredth time, when there's a knock at the door.

Opening it, I'm faced with one of the last people I would've guessed it to be.

"Hi, Will." Anne-Marie peers at me from under her long, dark eyelashes, her cheeks slightly flushed.

"Hey, Anne-Marie. What's going on?" I ask.

"Well, I just . . . well, I figured that you may want some company. You know, with Ellen, uhm, gone. And I know you haven't been hanging out with the guys, so maybe you'd want someone to talk to," she mutters, making sure not to make direct eye contact and looking past me instead.

"Oh. Thanks, but I'm fine. Really. I appreciate you checking though." I smile, although I know that I need to get rid of her without hurting her feelings. So I do what comes naturally: I lie. "I'm actually just cleaning up."