by Andrew Gates
"Good," she replied. She took a deep breath. "Are there further inquiries?"
The room was quiet.
"If not, we shall move on. Now to the more trivial portion of our meeting."
The next several minutes were spent summarizing ocean data and going over routine reports. It was nothing new. Zozak found himself falling in and out of attention. He missed the exciting news about impending hurricanes and intelligent, mortal ruors. He would give anything to go back to that again. But alas, there was no mention of it, save for a brief warning at the end.
"- and remember to prepare for the storm. It shall be soon upon us," Tyko said before releasing them back to their stuffy offices.
Zozak nodded as his colleagues stood up from their chairs. He remained seated, choosing to wait for the room to clear out first before proceeding. While he waited, Zozak saw Dkhozer join Tyko at the front of the room. He could only imagine how interesting their discussion was going to be. That was a conversation he wanted to take part in.
"Will you be moving?" Mukho asked. Zozak turned to face his neighbor. Despite his stench, Zozak had completely forgotten he was there.
"I was waiting for the room to clear out," Zozak explained.
Mukho glared back at him.
"I do not wish to delay. There is much work to be done ahead of the storm."
"Understood. My apologies," Zozak said as he stood up. He did not intend to be rude.
Like a fish in a school, he joined the crowd and slowly made his way out of the assembly hall. Zozak did not like being so close to others, but he was willing to endure for a brief time.
Zozak's mind began to wander. The passengers around him faded away, the walls disappeared and the world became as quiet as the sea.
He was on the deck. Wind blew against his face. Birds squawked. He could see the boat rock this way and that. It was pleasant. Zozak smiled as he enjoyed the peaceful world.
Before he knew it, the wind picked up speed. It blew hard against his body, nearly forcing him to lose his footing. The sky darkened. Grey clouds covered the sunlight and obscured Vigilant Behemoth from sight. A wave, nearly twice as tall as the boat itself, appeared suddenly. Zozak held his arms in front of his face, bracing for the impact. Before he knew it, a wall of water poured over the edge of the boat and collided into him.
He was now underwater, completely underwater. Fish swam into him like he was not even there. Zozak looked up. The surface was so far away. The light from above was nothing more than a faint glow. He panicked and opened his mouth. To his surprise, he breathed in normally. Everything was fine.
Zozak looked down, deeper into the ocean. He made out some sort of familiar shape down below, though it was blurry and hard to make out in the darkness. Curious to see more, Zozak swam down. With each kick, he moved faster and faster. Before he knew it, he felt like he was moving as fast as a submarine.
It’s the craft, he realized as he neared it. The creature's vessel moved through the deep water at a raging speed, but Zozak was able to keep up with it. He swam to the front window. The pale animal sat inside. Zozak tapped on the glass and waved. The creature looked up at him and waved back.
Zozak felt happy. A smile formed on his face.
Something pushed against the back of his abdomen. Zozak turned. Suddenly he was in the narrow hall again, surrounded by his fellow ocean crew.
"My apologies," Ytkkta said. There was a look of embarrassment on her face. Zozak quickly realized that she must have bumped into him by accident.
"It brings me no issue, Kal Ytkkta," Zozak replied.
He faced forward again and took a deep breath. As much as it pained him to accept, his brief fantasy was over. It was time to get back to business.
SARA ALWAYS LOVED THE FEEL of her father's embrace. His strong arms covered her shoulders like a shield of warmth. She could feel his chest move up and down with each breath as she sat on his lap. Her legs dangled down to the floor, too short to actually touch the bottom. Sara knew she could go to a lower chair if she wanted, but sitting on her dad's lap was the best seat in the station. Why would she want to miss out?
"I want to pick out the story!" young Sara called out. The girl was giddy with excitement.
"Let's choose together," he replied.
He lowered the personal pod so that she could see the screen. A sea of titles lit up the tablet. Sara quickly read through the names, trying to find anything that would catch her interest.
"What's this one?" she asked, pointing to an exciting title.
"Hmm. The Perfect Storm. Oh, Sara, you're too young to understand this one. It was written on the surface."
"I can understand it!" she disputed. She was sick of adults telling her what she could and could not understand.
"I don't know, Sara. It has to do with things called weather and wind and-"
"What's it about?" the eager girl interrupted.
Her father paused and smiled. It was as if he took pride in her enthusiasm.
"It's about a group of fishers out at sea. They're far away from home and a storm arrives," he explained, giving in.
"What's a storm?"
"We don't have storms here, but they were very terrifying on the surface. Imagine fast moving air, splashes of water falling on top of you, the sea above casting bright bolts of energy onto the ground. It was scary. Many people died from storms."
"How do you know?" Sara wondered. Her dad was talking about it like he had been there.
"Because I've read this story before," he answered. "A long time ago. It's a tough one."
That did not seem fair. He was allowed to read this story, but she was not.
"If storms are so bad, why did these people go into it?" she wondered.
"They wanted to come inside, but they were out on the water. They didn't have enough time to get to safety."
"Why?"
"Why didn't they get to safety in time?"
"No," Sara replied, shaking her head. "Why were they on the water?"
"Because they were fishers. Do you know what fishers are?"
Sara jumped up and down excitedly in his lap. She knew the answer to this one.
"Yes! Fishers leave the station with big machines and come back with food!"
Her dad smiled and nodded his head.
"That's right! Fishers today have a lot of big equipment to help them. Most of it is automated. Back on the surface, they had to do a lot more by themselves. They spent most of their time in boats, floating in the ocean. It was a hard job."
"Why would they want to do it if it was a hard job?"
He shrugged.
"Some people like hard jobs."
Sara shook her head and crossed her arms.
"No! Who would people like hard jobs? People want to work less and relax."
Her dad laughed. He seemed to enjoy this remark.
"Relaxing is good. But everyone has to work at some point."
"Everyone?"
Sara did not like seeing people go off to work. They always looked so miserable in their fancy suits. She hoped she would never have to do that.
"Yes, Sara. Even you will have to get a job someday."
She looked down to the floor. Her father sighed and placed the pod down on the chair next to them. He moved his hands to her shoulders, comfortingly.
"There's no reason to pout. You'll have a long time before that happens," he said.
Sara looked up again. She did not mean to pout.
"Any idea what you want to be when you grow up?" he asked.
The girl smiled and hopped off his lap. He adjusted, as if his legs had been asleep for hours.
"I want to be a hero, like the ones in the stories!" she said without hesitation. She was so excited that she could hardly slow down. "Like Alpheus or Phillian or... or the people in the storm story!"
Her dad smiled back and stood up from the chair.
"That's great, but just like those people in the stories, you'll have to work hard."
"How
hard?"
He chuckled.
"Difficult to say, but it won't be easy."
Sara crossed her arms again.
"So you don't think I can do it?" she asked.
Her dad raised his hands, defensively.
"Of course you can do it! I believe you can do anything."
"Really?"
"Yeah! If you work hard enough, anything is possible."
He smiled at her and she smiled back. Nobody spoke for a moment, but then he reached for the pod again and motioned for her to join him on the chair.
"Come," he said, loading up the story on the pod, "let's see what this storm has in store for us."
The waves rocked the platform up and down like breaths on her father's lap. Sara had grown used to the sway of it all. Unless she stared out at the horizon, she hardly even noticed the motion anymore.
The woman had seen so many sunrises from this sanctuary, she could hardly keep track of them anymore. Days blended together like one ongoing saga. She did not even have a remote sense of the duration. Had it been a few days, a few weeks, a few months?
In that time, Sara had grown to know this platform like the back of her hand. She knew the best place to stand if she wanted to feel the warm mist and the best place to stand if she wanted to avoid it, which, coincidentally, was also her favorite place to sleep. She knew where all the best food was, where the waves splashed the highest, even where the bravest of the flying creatures preferred to land.
At this point, she had learned all there was to learn about this place.
The visitors in flying crafts came by a few times. Sometimes they would come to gather food and take it away. Other times they would just stop by for a brief look around. Sara hid from them every time. She did not even know what these visitors looked like, though from the sounds they made, they all seemed heavyset. She envisioned obese men in thick boots.
It had been a few days since anyone had come. Sara sighed as she stared out onto the horizon. Sometimes she welcomed their presence, just as a way to break up the monotony of her day. With all this time spent wandering around a small platform, she was growing rather bored.
Sara closed her eyes and felt the wind as it blew through her damp hair. She shivered and took a few steps closer to the center of the platform, where it was a bit warmer. When she opened her eyes again, it occurred to her just how grey the sea above appeared. The great ball of light in the sky was nowhere in sight. She wondered how long the weather had been this way. She had not even noticed it change.
"That weather doesn't look good," she said aloud. Sara had been talking to herself a lot lately. It kept her from feeling too lonely.
The woman felt steam blow against the back of her head. She turned, facing the tower of mist. It was not normally supposed to blow in this direction at this time of day.
"What are you doing?" she asked the steam. It was blowing wildly everywhere. She had not realized it earlier, but the wind seemed to be blowing stronger than normal.
Clouds, wind. Sara slowly started piecing things together. She remembered back to the story from her childhood. A storm, she thought, a storm is coming.
"Oh, that's not good."
Sara lucked out with the weather since being on the platform. There were a few days of mild precipitation here and there, but nothing too significant. She had not seen the daytime sky this dark before, nor the wind this powerful.
The woman gazed out onto the ocean. The water rocked violently. She could not believe she hadn't noticed this until now. It must have just started.
"Where did you come from?" she wondered aloud.
Sara walked a few steps away from the steam. She was not sure where she was going, but she knew she wanted to move.
"Okay, time to think about this," she said, forming a plan as she spoke. She paced around. "I don't want to be at the edge of the platform when the storm comes. I also don't want to be in the center by the steam hole either. Nowhere I can fall off." She studied the area. "I should be somewhere between the two, central between the edge and the hole."
Part of her wished Damien were still here. He would know what to do.
Before she could plan anymore, Sara was suddenly distracted by a familiar sight. With the sky as messy as it was, she didn't even notice another flying transport coming in from the west until it was a few hundred meters away. Wasting to time, she instinctively made her way to the water, hoping nobody in the craft had seen her.
Everything happened so fast. She jumped over the edge and dove into the volatile ocean. Her body broke the waterline. Sara dropped down a few meters, then swam back up. The sea felt colder than ever before.
Sara opened for air as her head broke the surface, but a wave crashed into her face, filling her mouth with seawater. She coughed it out, hoping to clear her throat before the vehicle's passengers started poking around.
She could hear the craft landing.
Cough, cough, cough!
The engines quieted down.
Cough, cough, cough!
She finally stopped coughing and suddenly it became as quiet as she'd ever heard. In an instant, there was no sound, save for the splashing of waves.
Sara knew something was wrong. She could not figure out why it was so quiet. Something was missing, but what? Then it hit her. The steam, she finally realized. The steam has stopped. Why has the steam stopped?
There were loud footsteps coming from atop the platform. Whoever was in the vehicle was out now and walking around. Sara stuck to the edge of the wall as best she could in this weather and tried to make as little noise as possible. She was thankful that her cough had finally subsided.
Voices, again in a language she did not understand. The pitches were deep, almost inhuman. She could hear everything with increased clarity now that the steam had stopped. Just listening to them speak sent a strange shiver down her spine.
They were nearing the edge, not too far from where she swam. Sara took a deep breath and dove down below as the stomping grew closer and closer. She opened her eyes under the water and looked up. It was hard to make out clearly, but it seemed as if some sort of green carpet filled the air. It spread out across the sky for a moment, then came falling down like a sheet. It draped around the outside of the platform. Still hiding beneath the water, Sara watched as what appeared to be a massive claw-like hand, much larger than any human hand, reached over the edge and attached some kind of object to the outside of the green drape. Then the hand disappeared. Nothing happened for a few seconds.
Sara waited for as long as her lungs would allow. When at last she could hold her breath no more, she silently pierced the waterline and gulped in as much air as she could. Fortunately, nobody seemed to be near.
After catching her breath, Sara took this time to examine the tarp draped over the side of the platform. She swam to it and felt it with her fingertips. Whatever it was, it was as thin as skin and made of what seemed like flexible plastic. She moved along the wall until she reached the object attached to the outside of the tarp. This thing was thick and metallic. Upon closer examination, Sara realized that it was a magnet.
So that's what's keeping the tarp in place, she realized.
Sara pushed herself away from the wall and looked down the platform. Magnets like these seemed to cover the entire perimeter, each about three meters apart. Whoever put these magnets down really wanted the tarp to stay in place.
A drop of water splashed against her head and caressed her face until it found its way inside her mouth.
Fresh water, she realized.
Sara looked up. More droplets hit her face. Rain had arrived.
Foreign voices bellowed from atop the platform again, but the dialog did not last long. After only a few seconds more, Sara could hear the visitors return to their ship, leaving behind the pitter-patter sound of droplets hitting the tarp.
The ships engines powered up. Sara lowered her head as best she could as the ship lifted off the platform and flew away.
A sho
rt visit, she thought. It seemed all they came to do was lay tarp and leave.
Sara took a deep breath. She was glad to survive another visit unseen. Now it was time to return to her sanctuary.
The survivor dropped down beneath the water and jumped up like she had done so many times before. As she rose through the air, she reached out with both hands and tried to grip the edge. She quickly realized that grabbing hold of the wet tarp was not like grabbing hold of a corner. Her hands slipped and she fell back down into violent water.
Don't worry, Sara, she told herself, you can do it.
She jumped again and again. Time after time she found herself falling back into the ocean. Minutes passed. She grew tired. She felt her lungs fight for air.
The weather had gotten a lot worse in a short amount of time. In mere minutes, what began as a simple rain now seemed like an incessant eruption from the sky. The clouds coughed out globs of water as if the sea above had caught ill. The wind whipped moisture around in a frenzy. Spiraling, sideways drops circled like a cyclone.
Sara closed her eyes as she struggled to keep her head above water. She dared not look. She could feel her heart pounding. This was just like the story her father read to her as a child and was every bit as terrifying as she imagined. But this was no mere book. This was real.
The sea above roared as if it had cracked apart. The deafening sound echoed across the ocean, prompting her to open her eyes.
It was so dark now.
I have to get out of here, she told herself again. I have to do something.
Jumping atop the tarp did not seem to work, but it occurred to her that she had not yet tried another solution. Sara swam to part of the raft with a magnet stuck to the side of it. The magnet was in the shape of a coin, flat on the front and back, but round along the edge. It was not the best shape to grip, especially with all the water making it slippery, but it was worth a shot.
Sara dove below the water, then popped up. She reached for the magnet as her body soared through the rain. Her fingers brushed against the metal surface. She gripped as best she could. Her left hand slipped off, but her right held strong. Sara dared not let go. She swung her other arm around until both hands firmly grasped the surface.
