Leviathan. Joaquin De Torres
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jettison the photonic sail.” With the touch of a button, the long tubular camera apparatus detached from the main mast. It’s auto-discharge pin fired, inflating airbags within and launching it on its long journey to the surface.
“It’s done, Captain.” Lesher sat back down next to her.
The IMAX automatically went black, darkening the bridge.
“Hold hands, everyone. Let’s be together.” They did so immediately, their grips tightening as the massive grinding sound drew deafening again. She looked at them all.
“Let us not forget our friends whom we served with. Let us be proud of what we did, and let us not forget what we’ve shared together.” Lesher could see her tears in the darkness. She reached her hands behind her head and untied her hair bun. She shook free her long blonde hair and nestled her head on Lesher’s chest.
“You’re all my heroes,” she uttered as their world began to shudder violently around them. “And I love you all.”
She then raised her head to face Lesher’s, her hand caressing his cheek.
“Hold me, Roy. Like before.” He pulled his arms tightly around her and held her like he used to. She buried her face in his chest. He closed his eyes and smelled the honey and lavender fragrance of her hair for the last time.
Chapter 2 — First Impressions
Pacific Rim Academy of Science (PRAS)
Micronesia Division
Ritidian Point, Guam
The drive to Ritidian Point, Guam’s northernmost point, was relaxing and extremely refreshing. After being on the 747 for more than 16 hours, breathing stale air, plane food, cheap perfumes, port-o-potty disinfectant, feet and God-knows-what that Korean lady was eating in front of her, it was wonderful to breath the fresh island air. She found the sign she was looking for and made a left off the main road and onto a single-laned path that zigzagged through the dense jungle.
When she saw the “PRAS” sign and an arrow painted under it, she made that turn and suddenly hit the brakes. She had come to a bluff that overlooked the expanse of the Pacific Ocean. She got out and stood on the edge of the bluff and looked down. A sheer drop to the rocks and surf below must have been more than 500 feet. She swallowed, got back in the SUV, and continued along the road down. With her right hand on the emergency break, she traveled slowly and cautiously down the steep slopes and serpentine turns, not daring to look at the beautiful and breathtaking view off to the side. It took her 12 minutes to finally get to another sign, a more official one that read:
PACIFIC RIM ACADEMY of SCIENCES (PRAS)
MICRONESIAN DIVISION
Ritidian Point, GUAM, Marianas Islands
Specializations:
Marine Biology, Oceanography, Deep Sea Exploration, Undersea Cartography, Marianas Trench Research & Development, Reef Preservation; Aquatic Behavioral Sciences; Sub Technology.
Staff:
Dr. JOE SALAS-Director; Dr. IAN CAMACHO-Asst. Director
Professors: Dr. Tina Brkić; Prof. Miguel Cruz, Prof. Laura Limtiaco
Public Relations/Military Liaison: Kelly Genero
Residencies:
Sakura Funihashi; Nu'u Pali; Deana Santos; Akira Masahiro
She saw the name she was looking for on the sign and drove on, seeing a massive complex on the water's edge in the distance. After more than a half mile from the bluff to the shoreline, she was in the visitors' parking. She looked at her cell phone: 6:48 P.M. The sun was already fading. Deep purples, pinks and orange hues broad-stroked the sky.
The grounds and security lights were already on. She walked to the front glass doors and saw the working hours sign: Monday through Friday: 0800 – 1800. With no cars in the parking lot save hers, she cursed the bad timing. She would have to wait until Monday. She was about to enter the SUV when she heard faint voices somewhere nearby. She walked around the side of the complex and noticed a concrete stairway that lead even further down, towards the water some 50 yards below.
As she moved down, the voices grew louder and more discernable. There were at least three men and two women. The stairway finally ended at a massive deck that began on the property but extended out some 75 feet, judding out over the water. Connected to the deck was a mini harbor or pier with a 20-foot sailboat, Zodiac motorboats, jet skies and kayaks tied up to it. The building itself, sitting back up against the hillside was five stories tall, with a modern glass and wood facade. Huge glass doors at the base opened out to the deck.
But what amazed her most was that the deck had a massive hole cut out at the farthest point—a specially-designed pool that opened up to the ocean. The voices she heard originated there. She moved closer, amazed by the entire complex that seemed specifically designed for someone's intimate association with the ocean. She moved closer to the pool which was some 40 feet wide in a half moon shape. The ocean waves gently rolled into the pool and receded out. Besides the people, other things were in the seawater pool with them: dolphins. She smiled as the dolphins rolled in with the waves and swam freely with the occupants like personal pets. Pool lights illuminated the clean blue water and that's when she noticed something else: The swimmers were naked.
“Hello! Excuse me!” she called as she stood a few feet from the pool. The swimmers looked at her and waved.
“Hello! Are you lost?” asked one drawing laughter from all. She smiled embarrassingly.
“I’m looking for Dr. Salas? Dr. Joe Salas?”
“It’s after working hours, honey!”
“Yeah, I know. But I was thinking that if I could catch him—”
“Do you even know who he is? Do you know who you’re dealing with?” asked one of the swimmers. “He doesn’t do interviews without an appointment. And if you’re Navy, you’re going to have a hard time getting near him.”
“I understand. I do have business with him of great importance.” All the swimmers moved closer to her, in no way bashful about their nakedness.
“After working hours is his time. If he were here, he would say you’d have to come in with us in order to talk.” She nodded and smiled at the joke. “Is what you have to say that important that you would do that?”
“Yes, it is.”
The group smiled collectively and swam back to the dolphins. Suddenly, a man walked up and stood next to her. She didn’t seem to notice. Only when his shorts and shirt dropped to the ground did she look at him. She instantly recognized his face from his books and magazine photos.
“Dr. Salas!” The man looked sternly at her. Now wearing only Speedos and a tank top, she couldn’t help but glance quickly at his tall, athletic physique. His balding head was the only proof that he was in his late thirties; but his muscular frame and chiseled abs made him look as though he was in his twenties.
“Dr. Salas, I’m Lieutenant Kira Brightman from the Navy’s weapons research facility.”
“WEPS?”
“Yes, sir, and I was sent here to talk to you about a matter of grave importance.” He nodded indifferently with a smirk on his lips.
“Grave importance, huh?” he spat. “Why is it always a matter of grave importance when the Navy’s ass is in a sling? But when I bring up a matter of “grave importance” that involves the Navy, you guys throw my ass under a bus and say it’s not your problem!?” He set his hands on his hips impatiently, his eyes blazing with scrutiny. She felt uncomfortable as his glare burned right through her.
“Sir, I. . .I understand that your anger with the Navy goes back many years. I’ve read the reports, the injunctions and the court cases, but sir. . .if you hear me out. . .this