He nods in agreement. "From now on," he intones, "it’s you and me against the bad guys."
Chapter Three
Sander
The flat green ballerina twists and somersaults slowly in the murky tank where I’ve stowed away my catch from this morning’s early dive.
The crew’s already up, probably awakened by growling stomachs. I try to get my Zen on, ignoring the discussion going on topside of who will eat whose leg first.
I inherited some syringes and sampling tubes from a doting professor, and now I’m glad I did. With the equipment, I’m able to painlessly extract a cell sample from the Elysia Chlorotica specimen, green as seagrass, and release her to continue her underwater dance in the tank. I’ll set her free once I know this operation works. I turn on the microscope function on my watch, zip open one of the cells, and carefully pinch the chromosome out of the nucleus with my tongs. I fill a large syringe with several dosages worth, enough for all the crew, who are currently bickering about whether girl meat tastes better than guy meat. I’d better get up there soon. I grab a patch of algae I collected earlier and head upstairs.
"I say we eat the captain first," Taffy is suggesting. "Who cares if we have no one to yell orders at us anymore?"
Murmurs of agreement issue from the crowd. Foulweather fingers his hilt. Gayle turns a shade whiter than usual.
"I have a way for us all to get food for the next nine months, without having to kill anyone or even pull into port," I announce.
Everyone turns to stare at me. Hammerhead’s stomach grumbles, and he looks down at it sullenly.
"If you just let me inject you with these chromosomes, you’ll have the enzymes to process photosynthesized energy and maintain chloroplasts in your body for a good, long time."
Everyone gapes at me like I’ve sprouted seagrass for hair. For all I know, I will.
"Here, let me show you how it works," I offer. I take a deep breath, mentally saying goodbye to being a full-blooded human. Then I push the tip of the needle into the vein of my left forearm.
They’re all watching, more annoyed than captivated. "So what?" Taffy asks, cocking her round head.
I take the bag of algae out of my pocket, open it, pinch my nose, and insert a small handful into my mouth. It tastes like a salty salad – not bad enough to justify the grossed-out giggles from the audience. "Just watch," I say.
A gasp sweeps the crew. I look down at my arms to see they are glowing green, the same color as the sacoglossan still turning pirouettes in my chamber belowdecks. My own shock is heightened when I begin to feel nourished, gradually like I was drinking a bowl of soup, except I taste nothing but the vegetative aftertaste of the green algae. The experiment worked – the sea slug’s photosynthetic power, stolen from the algae it eats and passed on genetically, is also transferrable to humans! And now I can transfer it to the rest of the crew and save somebody from being barbecued.
I stop glowing, feeling marvelously full of energy that doesn’t weigh in my stomach like food would. "Who wants to go next?" I ask.
"Sure, I’d like glow green," Iru Zhi volunteers. The others look on with fascination as I bend to administer the fluid to his puny arm. He takes a mouthful of the algae I hold out to him. A few moments later, he flashes a toothy grin. His teeth glow the same lime green as the rest of his diminutive body. "This really work! It food – food from the sun!" Soon the whole crew is lined up for a taste of science.
Gayle comes up last. She meets my eyes, though I can see it’s hard for her, like our eyes were two magnets with double-negative polarization. She mouths, "thank you." I nod.
After we’ve all been fed and genetically modified, Lorenzini calls for "a toast to our marine biologist and his weird creation that has saved us all from incessant hunger and the potential health risks of cannibalism."
All agree: "Aye."
"Hear, hear."
"To keeping both my legs."
Lorenzini leans in close to me. "You know, my friend, I think you’d make a great captain someday."
I visualize myself at the helm below the Jolly Roger, wearing one of those ridiculous hats like the GPS-capable one Foulweather wears. "Um, sure," I agree with him.
Captain Foulweather butts in. "But not captain a’ this ship," he adds. "Things isn’t never changin’ ‘round here." He stalks off, glowing in the sunlight.
Chapter Four
Sander
We’ve been lounging like elephant seals since I fed the crew. All around us is open sea. I feel like a kid trapped inside on a summer day. Out there are creatures I could be researching, to show the world there is still hope for the ocean if they’d just stop polluting and supporting KrakenGo…
"Hey, does anyone wanna go for a dive with me?" I throw it out there, hoping perhaps to convert the crew to my point of view. "I’ve got an extra wetsuit or two. They’re clean and dry."
Taffy yawns. "Why would we want to go for a dive?" she asks. "It’s the middle of nowhere."
"We’re literally at Nowhere Atoll," Oneye Walter points out, indicating the map on the screen. "It’s an empty wasteland. We won’t find anything of value."
"You never know," I say, before realizing I probably don’t want these people finding anything I’d value down there anyway. I’m about to give up and go down to the dive chamber alone when Gayle slinks up to me.
"I’d sort of like to go," she says, "if it’s all right. I’m not a super fast swimmer…"
"Neither are seahorses," I grin, "but they’re still awesome. Let’s go, diving partner."
First, I take her to my chamber the level below to get the extra wetsuit. She clutches it to her chest as I show her to the bathroom.
I pull on my own wetsuit. When she emerges, I can’t help but check her out, just a little. I generally prefer curvier girls, but there’s something about her tall, angular, no-nonsense figure that speaks to me, in a way, like modern art.
We make our way to the dive chamber, a small, slippery room with a circular door in the floor. I press a button on the wall and the door opens like jaws. I slip through the mouth, relishing the warm tropical water that envelops me. I look up at Gayle and smile encouragingly. "It’s warm," I say. "Jump right in!"
She sits with her spindly legs dangling towards me, and then peels herself off into the water. "It really is warm!" she exclaims with delight.
I motion her to follow and dive underwater.
We’re surrounded by several submerged mounds, each one covered in live, colorful coral. There are feathery fans, tubeworms darting in and out of their homes, surreal brains in lime green and mushroom platforms in hot pink. All the coral back home was always bleached. Anemones sway in the gentle current, their finned inhabitants nestled softly among the rounded tentacles.
Gayle and I zero in on one seamount, where I’ve noticed something on a branched orange coral.
An orange seahorse, covered in bumps to match the coral, holds onto one of the branches with a curled tail. What’s unusual about this particular seahorse? An opalescent horn, shimmering like mother-of-pearl, protrudes from the forehead. What do you know – unicorns really do exist. I’m tempted to take this one in my sample bag for further study.
As I finger the bag at my belt, another horned seahorse, this one a bit larger and lighter in coloration, moseys on over to where her partner clings to the coral. The two lock tails and drift together, cheek to cheek, never leaving the safety of their patch of reef. The two horns nudge together, glinting in the filtered sunlight. Looking closer, I notice the smaller male’s belly is swollen, a sign that he’s carrying the female’s eggs.
I decide to leave this pair right where it is. After snapping some pictures with my watch, I signal to Gayle that we should head for the surface. When we burst through, the ship is practically right on top of us, though we’ve traveled several yards away: the crew must have decided to follow, to see what they were all missing out on.
I wave up at Lorenzini, who gazes down at us
through binoculars. "We found some amazing things down here," I call up at the crew. "You guys should've come. We saw some unicorn seahorses…"
"You mean, seahorses with horns?" Taffy squeals.
The crew circles up for a quick discussion.
Lorenzini pops out and asks me, "Would you point out the precise location of the find?"
I shrug. "Down there somewhere."
After a look from Lorenzini, Hammerhead pounds his huge chest. He jumps into the water with us, wearing what little he has on.
"No!" I cry, sensing what’s about to happen. I look to where we saw the orange coral.
Hammerhead follows my gaze.
I slap myself on the forehead as he dives with no breathing tank. I see his distorted form uprooting that precious piece of coral, swimming back up.
His head breaks the surface with a gasping splash. He swims back to the ship and climbs up the rope, ignoring Lorenzini’s admonition to use the dive chamber first.
Meanwhile, I enter back through the dive chamber. Gayle follows close behind. I peel off the wetsuit and throw on my dry clothes, then run up the stairs to the deck.
By that time, the crew is dancing in a circle with two tiny horns Taffy and Iru hold to their heads, singing, "We’re gonna make a profit, we’re gonna make a profit…"
The bloody-headed seahorse bodies lie on the deck. Hammerhead squishes one with his foot in the dance. Blood and guts and unborn eggs spurt across the deck as the exoskeleton crushes.
I feel sick – very sick. I check the other seahorse’s vital signs, but she has passed as well, so I throw the body into the sea for the bottom-feeders. Then I retire to my chamber, where I do the manly thing in this situation – throw myself on my cot and bawl like a baby.
After two taps on the door, I shriek, "Come in, if you must!" I don’t know why this thing has done to me what it has, but my body isn’t under my control and I shake and weep as I think of those eggs spilling across the deck in a puddle of blood.
The door opens slowly, and the one person I might actually want to see right now comes in.
"Gayle," I whisper, rising and turning away from her. "I wouldn’t have wanted you to see me like this."
"It’s okay." She sits on the bed, facing the same way as me, and puts a tentative arm around me. "I’ve seen men in worse condition – men who had more of a responsibility to be strong around me." We just sit like that for a while. Her arm relaxes on my back, wrapping around my shoulder.
"What men?" I ask after a moment.
She chuckles, pushes her jet-black hair out of her face. "There was only one," she says. "My hopeless, drunken father."
So that was the only man who disappointed her. I don’t want to be the second. I pull her in for a hug, wondering if she feels the same way about this hug that I do, with her awkward arms and eyes brimming with tears.
Chapter Five
Gayle
"I want to show you something," I say to Sander as the others argue over whose turn it is to clear the dishes after dinner. It’s not my turn or his, so without a word he follows me to my chamber.
I take in a deep breath before making my way to the suitcase in the corner – the one luxury I brought onboard. It nearly pops open on its own from the bulk of the stack of drawings and sketchbooks I have stashed away inside.
I take the first loose paper off the stack and hand it to Sander. "I did this one last night," I say. "It may not be perfectly proportioned, but I tried really hard to make it anatomically correct. Do you think this body design would be feasible in open water?" Being a star marine biologist, I expect Sander to give me some constructive criticism on the scientific correctness of my mermaid, and maybe throw in a compliment to my art skills like most people who see my drawings.
Instead, he shakes his head and chuckles. "Very cute idea, an anatomical drawing of a mermaid. You could sell these to moms decorating their little girls’ rooms – I think they’d be very popular."
"That’s not what I drew it for," I explain. "See, I have this obsession with mermaids. And mermen… people with fishtails. It all started when I was a kid and this mermaid visited me and claimed she was my mother." I look at my feet. "She said she was going to come back for me when I was old enough, and I believed her."
"Um, sorry to burst your bubble there, Gayle, but is it possible that was just a dream? Children have very active imaginations – "
"Do you think it isn’t possible it was real?" I counter.
He shakes his head slowly. "As a certified marine biologist, I have to draw on my scientific database of known organisms in the ocean and inform you that there are no such things as mermaids. Or people with fishtails."
"With only five percent of the ocean explored, how can you make such a claim?"
"People don’t breathe underwater – "
"Neither do whales," I interject. The air conditioning is a bit much, but I’m still getting hot. "You don’t know what’s possible."
"Maybe not, but physics and biology do, honey." He puts his hand on my shoulder, but I shrug him off.
"I’m sorry I showed you my drawings," I growl. "I guess some people just can’t understand the need for a girl to at least dream." My voice breaks, and I pray he leaves before the waterworks erupt. I want to still be able to hold that over him, having seen him cry.
"Hey, go ahead and dream," he smiles. "You’re free to draw mermaids and fairies and unicorns as much as you want…"
"You’re free to go," I say in an undertone.
"Okay." He turns toward the door, then faces me with a sincerely apologetic expression. "Hey, sorry if I caused any harm to your dreams."
He may have tarnished them a little, particularly the ones about becoming Gayle Wytewind. But for the most part, they’re still holding their own against the pounding surf. I tell myself, he’s just another one of the non-believers. They’re all the same. But somehow I had hoped Sander was different.
Chapter Six
Gayle
"Baby let me wrap my arms around you… I’m so hyped because I found you…" The song rings rudely in my ears, startling me awake. In my panic I think for a second that it must be Sander, crazed and returning for a repeat of the fluke expression of affection I afforded him earlier that evening. Then I remember I set this as the ringtone to my cell phone long ago, in the unlikely event I would ever receive a call. Hoping the crew sleeps soundly in drunkenness and hasn’t been awakened to mock my taste in the music of five years ago, I shut off the ringtone, holding the phone up to my ear. "Hello?" I breathe, slipping on my sandals.
"Hiya, Gayle," rasps a familiar voice.
I nearly fall back onto my cot. "Um, hi, Dad," I reply. "It’s been a while, hasn’t it?" I grab my coat and begin making my way to the deck, where I can clamber down the staircase and talk on the deserted beach, far from any curious ears.
"Yeah, I know. You can hold it against me, I deserve it. But it’s been a long time since I been sober."
"You’re – sober?" I’ve never seen him without some form of alcohol running through his veins. Not that I can remember, at least.
"You betcha. There’s so little drink left nowadays it costs a fortune for a shot a’ cheap beer. A man needs more’n that to run on."
"You’d be surprised what you need and what you can live without," I say. "I’ve learned that these past few weeks, with a bare minimum of clothes, no hair conditioner, and my last tube of toothpaste running on empty."
Dad chuckles. "What godforsaken place are ya in, Gayle? University?"
"I graduated last month."
"Oh that’s right. A' course. So now you’re workin’? Professional scientist, huh?"
"I’m employed on a pirate ship," I say.
He laughs, a deep belly laugh that I worry the others will hear through the phone. "Wait, you’re serious?" he asks when I don’t share his humor.
"Environmental pirates, you could say," I elaborate. "They pillage the land and sea for rare artifacts
while I keep the rooms clean and make the passion fruit pie. When there’s food, that is." We’ve been lucky lately, but if we run into a rough spot Sander says we can always photosynthesize.
"Well I’m glad you’re on the sea, darling," he says, where any other father would admonish for accepting a job with outlaws. "There’s someone out there’s lookin’ for you."
"Mom?" My breath catches.
"I seen her this mornin’," he confides. "In the public shower on Tar Ball Beach. A-usin’ soap, the same brand I showed ‘er," he croons like a doting father whose child has just taken its first steps. "She telled me she usually prefers a-washin’ in the sea, but she had to look for me. See, at first I thought she was a-lookin’ for me." His voice sharpens with the rusty-iron edge of bitter tears lurking in his throat. "She only wanted to ask me where you was at. I says I doesn’t know. I doesn’t know… and she scuttles off down the sand like a awkward seal and dives back into the water. Dives fast-like, like a lifeguard when there’s a drownin’ kid. Back when kids used to swim in the ocean, that is."
"Too bad you didn’t know what direction I was sailing," I say after a pause. "Maybe we can call her up and…" I trail off, realizing how stupid I just sounded. I finger the silver scale at my heart. Would I have waited so many years isolated from my mother, not knowing what she thought of my middle school graduation dress or my college application essay, if I could have just dropped her a line?
"Well, I hope she finds you," Dad says.
"I hope she finds me too," I say, close to tears. "I didn’t know she was looking." The day I met her plays in my mind’s eye, the elegant, sturdy arms holding me as waves washed over us, the beautiful silver eyes blinking back tears when we said goodbye. She promised I could join her when I was all grown up. But I had come to half-believe she’d forgotten…even to wonder if it was all a dream.
"I wish you two ladies the best," he warbles, and then hangs up.
Relieved to be off the phone, excited in case what he told me is true, heartbroken in realizing it took this long, I just stand there for a while, letting the chill wind tangle my hair.
Suddenly, right in front of my feet, a tiny reptilian face pokes out of the sand. The face is followed by two tiny flippers, which dig the whole rounded shell, back flippers, and tiny tail out of the sand. It’s a sea turtle hatchling. Without a moment’s hesitation, the creature waddles forward, away from my feet and towards the foamy shore. Soon, more sea turtles burst from the hole and skitter forth. All around me, swarms of them are making the same pilgrimage. I could have crushed a nest without realizing it earlier when I walked out here.