Elemental Origins: The Complete Series

by A. L. Knorr

  She got the idea when she saw an ad in the paper offering a reward to anyone who could return some valuable items which had been lost at sea. The items had been lost where else but Devil's Eye Cove. There had been talk around town that they'd never be found and anyone who attempted would die trying. Naturally, she recovered them easily and she made sure the media knew it was she who had done it. At the time, I think she was hoping for others who had lost items at sea to approach her so we could live off reward money. But it didn't take long for the story to reach Simon at Bluejacket and soon she had a job offer.

  There was some scrambling in the beginning to make sure she'd covered all her bases. She had to learn how to use diving equipment and handle herself on salvage dives. She joined the all-male team and they didn't make it easy on her. The first few years were pretty bumpy, but she hung in there. My mother is so tough she's almost callous, and I doubt there are many human women who would have stuck with the job the way she has. I know I wouldn't have.

  The truth is, I really don't know how she does it. Whenever the Bluejackets have a salvage job, she dons the diving gear along with the rest of them and plays the part. It just about drives her insane. I have tried to imagine what it's like for a mermaid to enter the deep encumbered by human legs and diving gear instead of her own gills and fins.

  But the secret of the team's success lays in what she does on her own time. She dives under cover of darkness and sets the dive sites up for maximum success. She unearths the valuables and places them strategically throughout the site for the team to find with efficiency but without raising suspicion that the site has been tampered with.

  It's so easy for her to do that I had asked her once why she didn't start her own company. She'd said that the business side of it would probably kill her. She had no interest in being an entrepreneur. She just wanted to make enough money to keep us reasonably well looked after, and she wanted to spend as much time in the ocean as possible.

  She used to try and hold back and let the men stumble across as many pieces she had strategically placed throughout the wrecks as possible, without 'finding' them herself. But with all the Bluejackets' success it had only been getting harder and harder for her to spend time in the diving gear. So, she gave up the pretence and now works as though she knows the sites like the back of her hand, which of course she does.

  Her performance underwater soon made her a legend. She doesn't even need GPS to find a wreck site a second time, once she knows where it is she can find it again like it has a built in homing beacon. The men can't account for her clairvoyant-like skill, and it has sparked jealousy and sour feelings towards her.

  Every dive she does in gear wears her patience thinner. She can't call in sick and skip the dives because her pay is contingent upon her being present. She used to have a bit of a reprieve every winter because the Bluejacket team could only take foreign jobs once the snow and ice had blown in. Cold water is no problem for a mermaid so winter quickly became her favourite season. But as the Bluejackets' success has grown, Simon wins more foreign jobs and the team has to make trips to the Caribbean or wherever the work is. Unlike the rest of the gainfully employed, my mother is never more miserable than when she has to make a work trip to somewhere tropical. It means she has to spend a lot of time in the hated diving equipment and away from me. It also means she has to tolerate the guys on her team and their jealousy.

  She couldn't care less about the way her team feels about her. When I urged her to be more considerate toward them she'd say that she didn't work there to make friends. Her lone wolf attitude mixed with her siren's allure makes for a lot of confused emotion in the office. For her exemplary performance, Simon has given my mother lots of bonuses. He puts her on a pedestal and encourages the team to emulate her. But the guys don't have a hope of competing with her.

  Simon went through a phase where he tried to get my mom to break down her 'techniques' and give the guys workshops so they could all learn how she did it. That was a disaster. Mom couldn't teach them what she couldn't explain and she hated being the centre of attention.

  To make things worse, the men don't understand why she's so damn attractive to them. They resent her, but they all want to be with her at the same time. I used to drop by the office just to watch the subtext play out. I have come to recognize two emotions very keenly, desire and resentment, the latter of which is just a hairsbreadth from hatred.

  At my urging, she finally asked Simon to stop recognizing her in front of the team. She'd also asked him to minimize the amount of press she got. She doesn't want the public accolades. Supposedly he tried, but the media is often insistent. Salvage diving has its own following, and the press always wants to talk to the rock star of the deep. That's what they call her, even though most of their dives aren't even close to being 'deep'. A few years back there was a television producer who wanted to make a reality series centred around her, and Simon saw dollar signs. Mom threatened to leave if he didn't shut up about it.

  She's now a legend in the diving community and the press loves her because she's gorgeous, rough around the edges, and makes for a great interview. She makes people laugh just by being her blunt self and giving one-word answers. They can't tell if she really is that rude, or if she's just playing a part.

  We don't talk about my father or her work struggles much anymore. I know that the pull of the ocean is very strong on her but between the diving time and constant busyness, somehow she copes. These are my mom's demons and I know she wrestles with them daily.

  As for mine? I could never bring myself to tell her I'd be ok if she left. It's my biggest fear that she'll leave and never come back. I don't want her to go, even when I am all grown up. I can't picture a day when I won't need her.

  As a siren, the entire ocean should be her playground but for my sake she's restricted to staying close enough to Saltford to be back in time for supper. It's the equivalent of keeping a tiger on a three-foot chain.

  It pains me to know how much she denies her true nature. I blame myself. If I had only been able to change, things would be so different. I carry the guilt with me always because I know that I have failed her.

  So, she has her demons and I have mine. Sometimes it feels like life is just a test to see who will crack first.

  Chapter 7

  Before I knew it, it was the night before we were to leave and we had boxes and bags of gear and luggage crammed into the truck. We had to be at the airfield at 4:30 am. Martinius had arranged for his own pilot to pick us up in his private jet.

  There was no way I was going to sleep tonight; I was way too excited. Mom made me go to bed early anyway, which was weird because she never enforced bedtime. She went to bed early too, drawn and anxious looking. This was out of character for her but for a good reason. My mother hated flying, it made her feel sick. She was meant to be swimming in the depths of the sea, not hurtling through the sky in a metal cigar-tube at 30,000 feet. I hated to watch her stress levels mount before a flight. At least I would be with her the whole time.

  I did fall asleep after a while and by the time my alarm went off at 3:30 I woke up and bounced out of bed, wide awake. I hadn't been on a plane since I was just a kid. I was eager for the experience of a private jet.

  Mom on the other hand, had shadows under her eyes. I watched her as we ate breakfast in sleepy silence. She was staring out the window watching the sky turn from black to black that was thinking about turning pink.

  "Did you sleep ok?" I asked as I watched her eat her oatmeal slowly, her eyes at half-mast.

  She gave me a wan smile. "I slept a bit. You know that I've never been a big fan of flying. It's the only thing that really saps my energy."

  "I'll be with you, Mom," I said, giving her a hug.

  "Thank God for that.” She squeezed me back. "Don't worry. I'll be fine, lovey. I'm old hat at this now. Just don't be worried if I sleep the whole time."

  "That sounds like the perfect solution.”

  We arrived at the airf
ield a half hour before take off. Today's Bluejacket Team was eleven men strong, including Simon. My mom, the only woman, brought the crew to a dozen.

  I shook a lot of hands. There were many team members I didn't know but I was too excited to remember all their names. Mom explained to me that some of the men were strangers to her, too – they were contractors that Simon found just for this job. She called them the ‘cowboys'.

  The small jet had the words NOVAK STOCZNIOWCÓW BRACIZ stencilled on the side. As part of the logo there was a stylized image of an old-fashioned sailing vessel with three masts painted on the aircraft's body in navy and white. I assumed the image of the ship was to add character, because from what I'd heard, the Novak corporation's empire was the most cutting edge shipping company in Europe. I didn't know anything about the industry, but I was pretty sure their vessels didn't look like the ship out of Peter Pan.

  We entered the plane through a small door beside the wing. The interior was nicely finished in navy leather with cream coloured piping. The pilot was a smart looking man with a lot of laugh-lines. He introduced himself as Ivan. His warm eyes lingered on my mother as she boarded the plane and turned to go down the narrow aisle.

  My phone chirped as I was stuffing my carry-on into the overhead bin and I reached into my purse, wondering who was texting me so early in the morning. I looked at the screen to see that it was Georjayna.

  Have a good flight, T-Nation. Let me know when you arrive! Muah!

  Me: I will. You're up early. Everything ok?

  Georjayna: Yeah. Couldn't sleep. Bit of anxiety.

  Me: You made the right decision.

  Georjayna: Thanks. Guess I needed a reminder.

  Me: Text me when you get to Ireland too, k?

  Georjayna: Fer sher.

  I powered down my phone and returned it to my backpack. I took off my sweater and shoved it up into the overhead bin with the rest of my stuff. I scanned the guys as they settled in. Of the Bluejacket team, I knew Micah, Jeff, Simon, Tyler, and Eric. I liked Micah so I had directed Mom to a seat that was near him.

  "How delightful to have both of the ladies on the plane within flirting distance," Micah teased.

  Mom rolled her eyes, and I bit my cheeks to hide a smile. I made her sit near the window so she could sleep. I sat beside her and Micah sat across the aisle from me. The window seat next to him remained empty.

  During takeoff I noticed my mom gripping the armrests of her seat until her knuckles turned white. I put a hand over hers. Not only was I worried about her anxiety, a state I rarely saw her in, it would be really bad if she accidentally broke the seat. She shot me a stressed smile.

  "Breathe," I mouthed to her.

  She nodded back on a stiff neck.

  Occasionally, Ivan would speak to us over the intercom and let us know where we were. He gave us interesting tidbits about what was below us, whether we could see it or not. He had an accent I couldn't place; Mom told me he was from Belarus. Ivan explained that we'd be given two snacks and a meal during the flight, and that the in-flight entertainment system would be available for use as long as the plane was above 10,000 feet.

  I had thought we'd be able to see the Atlantic underneath us, but the clouds were so thick that all I could see was a sheet of lumpy cotton. Up where we were, the sky was piercingly blue and clear and the flying was smooth. Mom fell asleep once we got above the clouds so I pulled down the window shade and put a blanket over her.

  I pulled a book out of my backpack and cracked it open. I had barely started reading when I felt Micah looking over at me. I looked up and smiled at him.

  At 27, Micah was the youngest member of the team and was just starting out in his salvage career. He was the kind of guy Saxony would fall for. He had curly, strawberry blonde hair and always wore a ball cap. His hair curled out from under his hat, making him look boyish. He was a broad fellow and looked uncomfortable crammed into the small seat.

  A random thought about what he might be like to kiss came unbidden to my mind and I had the tiniest involuntary cringe. Nope. No desire to do that whatsoever, even though he was attractive. Well, at least I was consistent.

  "Do you want to see some pictures of the wreck?" he asked, holding up a file folder with the words SYBELLEN, GDAŃSK written on the label. His knee was jiggling madly and he had an over-caffeinated look in his eye. It was going to be a long trip if he was going to be like this the whole way.

  "Sure," I replied, putting my book in the seat pocket. He handed me the folder. I opened it to find pages full of graphs and readings.

  "Fascinating,” I droned.

  "The photos are in the back," he laughed.

  I flipped through until I found printouts of a murky underwater shape. Some of them looked like sonar imagery, which were really just outlines and blobs of ink. In most images it was hard to tell that it was even a ship, but there were a handful of clearer shots.

  "Those were taken by an underwater robot. No one has actually been down there in person yet," he explained, leaning over the aisle to look at the pictures. "Pretty cool, huh?"

  I agreed, mostly to be polite, but I wasn't all that impressed because the images were blurry. I kept flipping until I came across one that was taken from the side and I was able to make out the shape of the masts. "How did it land perfectly upright like that? Aren't most shipwrecks a yard sale across the ocean floor?" I asked. Mom described most wrecks as dump sites.

  "Amazing, right?" replied Micah. "She's called The Sybellen and she's the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen. I haven't been at this business long but even the veterans on the team say they've never seen anything so beautifully preserved. It'll be like going back in time, to see her in person."

  Two masts were visible in the image, but the length of the ship suggested room for three. I noted the crisp edges and lack of obvious decay. "Are they sure this is the one they've been looking for all those years? It doesn't look that old."

  “It was lost in 1869 so it's pretty darn old. But the fact that it's in the Baltic and not some other ocean is its saving grace."

  "Why is that?" Mom never talked about these kinds of details with me. I liked to hear about her diving adventures when she went out on her own, but I never really dug for information about dives that she did with the Bluejackets. Micah was painting things in a whole different way. My mom was bored to death during the team dives, but Micah was clearly in his element. He spoke about it with the passion of an artist.

  He pulled out his phone and scanned through some images until he landed on a shot of another shipwreck. He handed his phone to me saying, "This is an old British vessel found in the Caribbean. It's twenty-three years older than The Sybellen. Notice a difference?"

  I looked at the image and it was obvious what he meant. The British vessel was much more decayed, really just a shell. Large curved ribs gave the impression of a wreck but there were no masts, and the entire rear of the ship had completely collapsed.

  "Why is this one in such bad shape? Was it how it went down?" I asked.

  "That can be a factor," he answered. "There are lots of factors involved in how fast a wreck decays but the biggest thing is the water. See, the Baltic is brackish. It has hardly any salt and no shipworm. So even though The Sybellen is older, the one in the Caribbean broke down at a much faster pace. That's the power of salt water."

  Micah explained how because of the inflow and outflow of fresh and salt water, the salt in the Baltic sits in layers. The water on the top is often so fresh that its nearly drinkable. The deeper you go, the saltier the water becomes. Most of the salt sits below a depth of 130 feet. The wreck is in the perfect position because it came to rest at a depth of only 90 feet.

  Micah let me look through pictures of the other wrecks on his phone for a while until the early morning caught up to me and my eyelids began to droop. I thanked him, handed back his phone, pulled a blanket over myself and curled up against my mom, who was still out cold.

  I don't know how many hours later it
was when I awoke to a dark cabin full of sleeping men. The shutters had been drawn and snores drifted up from a few seats. I got up and went to the bathroom and on my way I could see that Eric and Jeff were still awake and talking quietly a couple of seats ahead of us.

  I stretched my legs and back, and then went back to my seat and curled up for some more sleep. But as I lay there with my eyes closed, I couldn't help but catch snatches of Jeff and Eric's conversation.

  "...can't do that, Eric."

  "...got heat on me..."

  "...For $335 a pound..."

  "...US dollars?" Then more mumbled words I couldn’t make out.

  Then, "Don't be a pansy, Jeff."

  Whatever they were talking about, it sounded like Eric was in some financial trouble and he was trying to get Jeff to help dig him out of it. I strained my ears to pick up more.

  "...breathing down my neck."

  "...50/50 split..."

  A new voice made me jump. "What are you boys scheming about?" I sat up and snuck a peek over the seat in front of me. The voice belonged to Simon. He'd stopped in the aisle. “Up to no good, I'm sure."

  Eric forced a laughed. "Not much boss. Just going over these schematics for The Sybellen. Looking forward to seeing this beauty up close and personal."

  Probably because he was so excited to see the ship himself, Simon was fooled. His round face lit up and he began to chat with them about the wreck. Mom had told me that this job was a dream come true for him.