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."
I step aside to show her the living area with its steel walls and gray carpet, which actually is in a bit of disarray. Anne-Marie, however, seems to have become bolder than I remember because she takes the opportunity to step inside the suite.
"That's perfect," she enthuses, looking around. "I could help you! It'll go much faster with the two of us."
She looks at me directly and I sigh. "That would be awesome."
The girl grins from ear to ear and heads toward the couch. She arranges the cushions back to their original positions and before I can stop her, begins to pick up my clothes from the floor. "Where do you want these?"
"Uhm, I'll take those." I take them from her, balling the assortment up under my arm. I never had a girl mess with my things besides my mom and Ellen, and although I appreciate Anne-Marie's intent, she's making me a bit uncomfortable.
"I guess I could vacuum?" She looks at me with a little more apprehension.
"Yes! That sounds great," I reassure her, figuring that's a less personal task.
Because the layout of most rooms on Vanguard are the same, she knows her way around and heads toward the cupboard to get the equipment. I, on the other hand, go to my room and begin making my bed. The last thing I need is for Anne-Marie to offer to do that.
I don't make my bed often, so it takes me a few goes around the bed to make it look presentable. By the time I'm finished, Anne-Marie's done with the living area and she peeks her head through the door.
"Do you want me to do it in here, too?" she asks.
"No, I got this. Thanks." I take the hose from her, but as I begin pulling on it to give it more slack, I freeze. My mind races as I recall various scenarios from the mechanics books. Yes! This could work!
"Oh my God, Anne-Marie! You are incredible," I praise the girl who's standing in front of me with a blank expression of her face. She probably thinks I've lost my mind, but I don't care. I quickly detach the vacuum head and begin coiling up the hose around my arm, making my way toward the central connection in the living room's wall.
Anne-Marie follows me and is still dumbfounded by what I'm doing. "What's going on, Will?"
I know I can't tell her, but I'm so excited, I can't help myself with my generosity. I turn around and take her face into my hands before kissing her on the lips. "You've just done me a huge favor. Thank you!"
I somehow feel like I'm going to regret that move later, but right now, all I want to do is get the crucial part to Dunstan and set my plan into motion.
It only takes my engineer a day to work out how to use the vacuum hose in rigging the Skipper to be able to resurface. He even praised me for coming up with the idea. His fleeting grunt of "not bad, boy" is the nicest thing he's ever said to me.
It has been three weeks less one day since Ray and I left Ellen with the survivors above. It has also been almost two week since their arbitrary deadline of us returning with the ferries. In spite of not knowing what I'll face when I get there, I'm determined to go back. I've already been out on a few missions since having my piloting privileges restored, and I know that with everything in order, I can't delay any longer. My sister needs me.
Last night, I made sure to have dinner with my dad to get a little father-son time in before I go. In case I don't return, I want him to at least have that final experience with me. He'll either get both of his kids back or none at all. I don't even want to think about the latter.
The timing for this mission is ideal for what I need. I'm scheduled to go out to harvest kelp at oh-six hundred hours, which will let me get back to land in time for nightfall. Based on what I know about currents, the tide should also be low, making it easier for me to hide the craft.
I pack my bag with some personal things and head to the maintenance bay a half hour early. I'm about to breathe a sigh of relief that I've gotten this far without interference when somebody addresses me from the open cockpit.
"So, today's the day, huh?" the familiar voice asks.
"I don't know what you mean," I reply, avoiding eye contact with Ray, but instead act like I'm looking for something on the workbench.
"Like hell you don't, Will. I know you better than anyone so don't lie to me. You're going back to them. And you're obviously not taking a ferry."
He sounds just as annoyed as before, so I take a few seconds to decide how to respond before turning around. Even if I deny it, he wouldn't have a good reason to believe me.
"Are you going to stop me?" I ask.
"If I wanted to stop you, I wouldn't have gotten you reinstated, you fool," he says, climbing out of the craft.
He did the what now? "What do you mean?"
He jumps down in front of me before responding. "In all your years of knowing me, would you have ever thought that I'd risk my rank for a game of basketball?"
Well, if he puts in that way . . . I blink, still not knowing how to respond, so Ray continues. "Like I was going to let you sabotage your chance of being able to leave by putting Jolly in the infirmary."
His conclusion reminds me of my initial explanations for his actions and I tell him so. "But at the same time you sabotaged yourself from being able to come with me. There's no way we could take both ferries back now."
He shrugs. "True, but you were never going to give them up, anyway."
I gasp. "How'd you know that?"
He cocks his eyebrow and smiles. "Because I'm your best friend. And because that's what I would have done."
I'm so happy to hear these words that I pull him into a big hug. It feels so good to have Ray on my side again.
"So, what's your plan?" he asks once we separate.
"Charm them with my wit, get them to let Ellen go, and return a hero." I grin as I begin climbing up the Skipper.
He laughs. "Sounds good. Best of luck, Wilhelm. I'll be waiting for you guys."
I give him a final wave as I take my seat in the pilot's chair. I lower the canopy and turn my attention to the pre-mission preparations. I don't even notice when Ray leaves.