by Joe Nobody
The former naval officer was smiling as he bid good-bye to his life as a squid.
The dry dock facilities outside of Seattle, Washington had received the contract to refurbish the freighter shortly after Tohoku Earthquake and subsequent tsunami in 2011.
With her keel laid in 1999 at the Koyagi Worksoutside ofNagasaki, the Tsuyoi Maru was long overdue for an extensive series of upgrades and exterior refinishing.
With over 5,000 shipyards on the island nation’s shores, Japan was the dominant player in the construction and maintenance of oceangoing vessels. With over 35% of the global market, her efficient yards and shops had all but eliminated the competition in many other nations, including the United States.
In normal times, it would have been blasphemy for any Japanese built ship to see a dry dock outside of Nippon. The devastating tsunami that ravaged large swaths of the industrialized coast had changed all that, limiting capacity and crippling segments of the industry.
The Tsuyoi Maru was a general purpose, mid-sized cargo ship that could claim no notable features or unique capabilities. At 312 feet in length, with an 80-foot beam, she was neither large nor small in the universe of seaworthy tonnage.
Her massive engines generated over 80,000 brake horsepower, allowing Tsuyoi to make 18 knots with a full load.
With her refit nearing completion, the Venezuelan firm that owned the vessel had fallen victim to the change in that country’s government, eventually going bankrupt. The shipyard was left no option but to halt work and eventually apply for ownership. She was listed for sale just over a year later.
Christopher Bard stood on the pier, scanning the Tsuyoi’s lines. His first job was to oversee her newly revitalized refurbishment. After she was seaworthy, he would be her captain.
“You’re definitely not a warship,” he informed his new command. “But you’re not butt ugly either.”
The former naval officer understood what the Tsuyoi Maru was to become, and why such a thing was necessary. “Sure beats unemployment and fighting lawsuits,” he whispered. “Besides, if this Olympus Device works the way the scientists think, I’ll be contributing to a greater cause.”
But most importantly to Bard, he would be at sea.
His introspection was interrupted by the voices of two men approaching from the yard’s main offices. Both were wearing hardhats, the older man carrying rolled up blueprints under one arm. “Captain Bard?”
“Yes, I’m Chris Bard.”
“I’m Frank Pulaski, foreman of the yard. This is Dr. Mitch Weathers; he’ll be working with you on the project.”
After a round of handshakes, Pulaski nodded toward the gangplank and said, “Let’s go take a look at your new ship. I understand this is going to be a rushed, custom job, so there’s no time like right now to get started.”
The trio spent over an hour touring the various decks, machinery spaces, and crew quarters. Finally completing their tour on the bridge, Pulaski went to the chart table and unrolled his drawings.
“These are my preliminary ideas as to how we’re going to convert this old workhorse into a combination research lab, luxury yacht, and floating city. Dr. Weathers will be in charge of procuring the lab equipment. His wife will be ramrodding the design and remodeling of the living quarters. My job is to make her seaworthy and install state of the art equipment and systems. Captain, you, of course, will be overseeing the entire project.”
“What is the project’s budget?”
Pulaski laughed, “You know, I asked that very question last week when the contract was being negotiated. I was told that this ship had to be ready in three months and that my priority was to be completing that task in a timely manner. Cost was not my concern.”
“And security?” Bard questioned.
“I was also told that if I wanted to be paid, I had to treat this project as if were a classified military contract. My team won’t know who Mr. Weathers and you are. Their deliverables will be compartmentalized, just like when this yard refurbishes a submarine or destroyer. We know how to keep our mouth shut, sir.”
“Good,” Mitch added, liking what he was hearing. “The main reason why we’re building this floating city is because of security. There’s no country, island, or town that can be protected. But a ship, moving unnoticed from port to port, should be able to remain independent and safe.”
“When I heard about the concept, my first thought was that it would be a floating prison,” Bard offered.
“But that’s not the case at all. We can move from Hong Kong to Sidney to Los Angeles as we please. Feel like sushi? Set sail for Tokyo harbor. Want to get a little sun? Let’s establish a course for the French Riviera. No one will notice a ship like this one. There are thousands of them plying the sea-lanes all over the planet. We would be nearly impossible to track or attack.”
The three men spent the rest of the day finalizing plans, setting up a project schedule, and becoming familiar with each other’s work habits.
As they left the ship, Pulaski offered one last observation. “This is going to be the most challenging, time-crunched project I’ve ever attempted. I’m thinking of contacting the new owners and letting them know they could save millions in overtime payroll if they’d extend the deadline out another two months.”
“Don’t bother,” Mitch replied with confidence. “I told them the same thing about my lab equipment just a few days ago. Their response was quite clear. Time is of the essence; money is not. Get it done.”
“So be it,” the yard foreman nodded. “I’ll see you both in the morning.”
Dusty sat on the porch, watching his niece and nephew playing on the corral fence. Glancing up at Andy, he said, “You always were drawn to that same spot. I wonder what the magic is for a young mind?”
Smiling at the memories, Andrew replied, “I think it’s because there’s so much your imagination can do with a fence. It can be a fort, castle, or hideout. That particular stretch is attractive because it’s in the shade.”
“Your uncle and I spent most of our free time on Pilgrim Rock, but the rail gun messed that up,” Dusty stated. “I guess that little invention of mine has ruined a lot of things.”
Despite his age, the younger Weathers knew where his father’s mind was going. “Dad, it’s not your fault. When you were in the shop building the thing, there’s no way you could have known what was going to happen. Stop blaming yourself.”
Dusty stared down at his boots, a deep sigh escaping from his chest. “Your mother is furious with me, having to pull you out of school and all. Grace was just getting her place the way she wanted it. This land right here… well, you already know that story. I’m going to sell it, and they’re not making spreads like this anymore.”
Andy tried to console his father, “I was getting burned out at school anyway, dad. The ranch is just a place… a thing. After those guys had kidnapped me, I realized material things weren’t so important. Besides, the promise in what your invention can do for people… how it can change the world for the better… that’s what really matters.”
“You sound like your Uncle Mitch,” Dusty said. “Speaking of which, there’s another life ruined. He worked so hard to get on the staff at A&M… his lifelong dream up in smoke as well.”
Andrew didn’t respond for a moment, trying to decide if he should just shut up and let his father get it off his chest, or continue to try and console the man.
After a bit, Dusty continued, his voice reeking with sadness. “But the worst part… the part that keeps me up at night… is all those men who lost their lives. I keep thinking about that FBI team at the Medical Center and all those folks at the ship channel… or down in Laredo. I’ve left a lot of widows and orphans in my wake, and it bothers me to no end.”
Andy sat beside his father in the old porch swing, the younger man sensing the waves of remorse coming from the man. “You were only fighting for survival. You need to think about all the kids you saved at that school, or all of the people that would h
ave died in Laredo if you hadn’t stopped those cartel goons.” The college student planted his feet on the concrete floor and pushed off. “I have a professor who fought in Iraq and Afghanistan. One time, a student asked him how many people he’d killed in the wars. His answer stuck with me, and I think it applies to you.”
Dusty looked up, curious where his son was going with this conversation. “Well?”
“He said, ‘Yes, as a soldier, I had to end lives. But the more important question is, ‘How many people did I save by being there?’ I think that mindset is where you have to focus. If all this works out, your creation will save far more lives than were lost. It’s the only way you’re going to have any peace, Dad.”
Dusty was amazed at his son’s perception and maturity, and no doubt the development improved the father’s mood. “You’ve grown up so much, Andy. No matter what, I want you to know I’m proud of the man you’ve become.”
The screen door announced its opening with a squeak, Grace appearing with a tray of iced tea. “What are you two conspiring about out here on the porch?” she greeted with a friendly smile.
“Oh, we’re just contemplating how to conquer all known civilization,” Dusty replied before realizing she might actually take him seriously. But she didn’t.
Laughing, she set the beverages down on the reclaimed wood table and said, “Durham Weathers, you promised me a walking tour of the south rim before we have to leave. It’s not too hot out today. How about you honor your commitments in a bit? Besides, I’ve got some good news that might wipe that scowl off your face.”
Scanning the cloudless sky, Dusty nodded. “It’s as good a day as any. Besides, I could use a leg stretching. Go lace up your walking shoes, Missy, and we’ll get going.”
“What’s your news, Miss Grace?” Andy asked.
“I just got off the phone with Texas Parks and Wildlife. They’re going to take over your father’s ranch and make it a state conservation area. We don’t have to sell the property.”
“What? The dickens you say,” Dusty responded, his tone reflecting surprise.
“They think that one of these days this dusty, old ranch will be of historical importance, just like Thomas Edison’s lab or George Washington’s plantation. School kids might take field trips to see the workshop where Durham Weathers invented the Olympus Device.”
It was a bit much for Dusty, “This old place? Are you kidding me? Why would anybody want to come here?”
Grace grinned, “You do.”
“Well… well, that’s different. I….”
Andy didn’t let his father finish. “Dad, we keep telling you… we keep saying that contraption you created is going to change every life on the planet. Uncle Mitch says it’s the most important invention since fire. It makes perfect sense that people would want to see where it all got started.”
“The Fort Davis Chamber of Commerce is all excited as well,” Grace added. “They think having a famous hometown boy will help the local economy.”
Dusty shook his head, trying to deal with a life that seemed to be moving at 100 miles per hour. “I suppose,” was his simple response.
A few minutes later, Grace and he were riding on an ATV, heading for the south rim. Dusty pulled the vehicle into the shade of a beautiful, mature cypress, the wisps of soft leaves tickling his passenger’s arms as they rolled beneath the canopy.
After dismounting, Dusty pointed at what appeared to be a solid wall of black, volcanic rock. “We’ve gotten a fair amount of rain while I was gone,” he noted. “It’s not normally so green this time of year.”
Grace followed his lead, taking in the contrast of dark, foreboding rock against the lush, emerald desert foliage. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
The two continued toward the base of the formation, walking side by side at a leisurely pace. “We won’t have any scenery like this on the ship,” Grace noted. “Hopefully, we’ll get to visit green places at some of the ports.”
“I doubt there’s any other place like this,” Dusty replied. “But they tell me this ship build-out is really quite impressive. Mitch said the research lab and housing will all be first class. He said they’re building out that boat as if it’s a floating town, complete with movie theatre and a diner.
“It’s amazing how fast all of this is coming together. But I think it’s the best possible solution. The Olympus Device will move around in secret, and if someone does catch on, we can call the U.S. Navy. We’ll be isolated, but also get to see the world in style. It will give Mitch and the other scientists time to exploit the positive uses of your invention. Everybody should win.”
“Funny,” Dusty smirked, “I don’t feel like I’ve won. I have to abandon my home and friends and feel responsible for turning a lot of lives upside down.”
Grace rested a hand on his shoulder, signaling that she wanted to stop for a moment. Looking into his eyes, she said, “I know this hurts you to no end, but we’ll be together, and isn’t that the most important part?”
Dusty returned her gaze, his sincerity beyond question. “If it wasn’t for that… if it weren't for you and me getting to be a couple, I would never have agreed to any of this. So, yes, that is the most important thing to me.”
Grace kissed him, the couple melting into a tight embrace. “I love you, Durham Weathers, and I don’t care where we are, as long as it’s with you.”
“I love you, too. And, to be honest, I can think of a whole lot worse future than being marooned on a yacht with a beautiful woman like you.”
Grace tried to pull away, a chuckle forming in her throat. Dusty didn’t cooperate, holding her easily. With a playful smack on his chest, Grace opted for her best southern drawl, “Why Mr. Weathers, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you had lascivious intentions toward my person.”
He laughed and then kissed her again. “You got that right, pretty girl. You can take that to the bank.”
“Let’s just hope neither one of us gets seasick. That would be a problem.”
Dusty laughed, but deep down inside, he had worried about suffering from the affliction. “As long as we’re together, taking turns throwing up, it will be okay,” he teased.
“I agree; I cannot wait to build a life with you, Dusty. But in the spirit of full disclosure, I feel I should let you know something. Green, as in green in the gills, isn’t one of my better colors,” she giggled.
The weeks at the ranch passed quickly, the time at home allowing Dusty to slowly heal.
Mitch and his family were in Seattle, the professor supervising the final installation of lab equipment while his wife managed the finishing touches on the living arrangements that would surround the world’s most advanced research facility.
Someone had finally given the ship a new name. Parthenon.
Grace and Dusty spent leisurely days, relishing the slow pace, occasionally occupied with getting their affairs in order.
They packed boxes of memories and mementos, their mammoth, future home putting no restrictions on the amount of freight they were allowed to pack. Grace helped Dusty sort and separate, then it was the Texan’s turn to help his lawyer and lover.
The couple used the opportunity to learn more about each other. Everything from photographs to old boxes of attic clothing had to be either packed or disposed of. They shared laughter, sadness, and remorse as the time passed.
Grace thought Dusty’s old high school yearbooks were hysterical, while the few baby pictures in the Texan’s possession tugged at her heart.
Dusty found a box of her old cassette tapes in a closet, the two spending several hours reminiscing about where she was when a certain song was playing. Having met later in life, both relished the opportunity to learn about the other’s developing years.
And then one morning, Agent Monroe showed up on the back porch. “It’s time, Mr. Weathers. I answered a call this morning that Parthenon was finally ready to receive both you and Miss Kennedy… and the rail gun. We’ll be ready for the first leg tomor
row, sir.”
The news hit Dusty harder than he’d expected. While the Texan had known it was coming, somehow the reality had never quite sunk in. Grace detected his mood instantly.
“Penny for your thoughts,” she inquired. “I can tell there are plenty of them rolling around in that thick skull of yours.”
“I don’t know,” he responded sadly. “I’m having second thoughts. I’ve never backed out of an agreement in my life, but this all seems so harsh and permanent. It’s like I’m being sentenced to prison for the rest of my days.”
“I know. Even a private yacht can seem like a jail if you can’t leave. But it’s not forever, Dusty. Mitch thinks you’ll be able to safely come back home after the technology has been developed and distributed. It won’t be a threat then, and everyone will welcome you like the great man you are.”
Smirking, Dusty replied, “Yes, he did say that. He also estimated that would take over a decade. So I’ve not been handed a life sentence, just 10 to 15 years with good behavior.”
Grace winked, “With conjugal visits, I’d like to note.”
