New Beginings

         One eye flicked open, then the other.

         Well, I might as well get up now.

         Alberta Greenewoode levered herself to an elbow, then to a sitting position. Wincing with pain, she managed to stand. She leaned against the bed and reached for her crutches. With those she clumped her way over to the chair set in front of the large, picture window.

         The hospital was up on a hill overlooking Key West and the harbor there. Miles of ocean stretched away before Alberta. The sky was a rather remarkable shade of blue and the sun shone brightly, making for a glorious day.

         How long Alberta dozed in the warmth she didn't know, but she was awakened by a soft knock.

         "Come in."

         It was Bertie.

         "Good Morning!"

         Alberta smiled. "Morning, Bertie. You're up early, aren't you?"

         "Headed back to the Academy in a couple of hours and thought I'd swing by before I left. How are you doing?"

         "Same as yesterday, I guess. Tired and sore and altogether rather slothful. You?"

         Bertie laughed. "Much the same. What'd the Doc say?"

         "Oh, the usual. I'm on sick leave again. I tell you, this is ruining my vacation."

         "At least you're getting one," Bertie sighed, stretching her legs as she leaned back in the soft chair.

         "Hey, now, don't be falling asleep on me," Alberta warned. "That's what I'm supposed to do."

         The older woman grinned. She sat up. "I do need to ask you, though, what you're planning to do?"

         "What do you mean?"

         Bertie frowned, irritated and worried. "You're back in the hospital again, Alberta. You know what I'm talking about."

         "It's not serious, Bertie! I'll be back next week."

         Bertie tapped her fingers together, keeping Alberta's gaze. "They're going to do a psych evaluation, Alberta," she said at last.

         "No kidding. Really, Bertie, it's no big deal."

         Bertie stood and began to pace. "It is a big deal. It's the whole deal!" She began to flick items off on her fingers: "Psych eval, physical, background investigation, expertise asessment, practicals . . . Alberta, this is serious!"

         Alberta smiled. "Relax, Bertie. The worst that could happen is they'd tell me it's time to retire. I'll be fine. Really."

         "If you need anything, anything at all, promise you'll tell me?"

         Alberta rolled her eyes. "I promise. Now quit pestering me and tell me how the clean-up's going."

         Bertie took a deep breath and resettled in her chair. She began her recital, pausing now and then to give her long-time friend concerned frowns.

         " . . . The oil spill has been contained for now, so we'll have some more help shortly. That's why I'm going back to the Academy now, instead of later. A.M.E. hasn't told me why, I just got the notice this morning.
"Huey was bad, but the damage is mosly coastal, like I said, and we're just about done. Our team's pulling out the end of this week, we're all due for some vacation, and the Fialda Team will be taking over."

         "Did they catch those poachers?"

         "Yes. Mike ID'd them yesterday, actually. The damage to the reefs, unfortunately is extensive, but what repairs that can be done have. Reconstruction of the observation bubble have been completed also, and the renovations are quite remarkable. And, the good news is the weather forcast shows no new storms brewing, and nothing should hit this area again until next year."

         Alberta nodded. "So what's the bad news?"

         "Augh, they're breaking up the team!"

         Alberta came swiftly to attention. "What? How long have you known?"

         "About a week, I guess," Bertie sighed. "I've just been in such shock I didn't want to believe it. But it seems we've finally got too old."

         "Hard to take, isn't it?" said Alberta with a grimace.

         "Yeah, and I haven't told the team, yet." She blushed.

         "Do you know who the new members will be?"

         "No, but I think that's why I'm being recalled now. It's the beginning of the new semester next week and the new assignments will be going out."

         "Don't fret so much, Bertie, that was always a bad habit of yours. I'm sure it'll all be fine."

         "I wish I could be as optimistic as you."

         KNOCK KNOCK

         "Come in," Alberta called.

         One of the nurses poked her head in. "Ms. Greenewoode, the doctor's here."

         Alberta nodded, then looked over to Bertie. "Time to start the testing," she said with a ruefull smile.

         Bertie gave her a reproachful look. "And you let me ramble on."

         "Just who was I to stop you?" Alberta laughed softly. "Don't worry so much, you'll agravate that ulcer."

         Bertie stood, waggling a finger at the mariner. "I don't have an ulcer . . . ."

         "Not yet," Alberta teased, giving the older woman a hug.

         "Take care."

         "You, too."

         Scarce moments after Bertie left, the doctors entered and the testing began. Despite her careless words, Alberta was nervous. No, she was afraid. This testing would determine the path of the rest of her life. She was too young to retire, not in her opinion, but she could be declared medically unfit for duty, which would either get her discharged or posted to a desk until she got so bored she quit.

         But Alberta pasted a confident smile on her face, hiding her doubts behind a thick veneer of self-assurance. This is just another test, she told herself.

         The tests took all day, and left an exhausted Alberta wide-eyed with apprehension alone in her room. She'd never undergone such extensive testing, not since her graduate physical. And this was just the medical stuff! She still had to schecule the practicals, the written and oral tests, and the fitness tests.

         Only now did Alberta allow herself to cry a little. The psychological evaluation alone had taken several hours and the doctors had dredged up each and every failure or mistake and quizzed her on each one. She answered as truthfully as she could, hopeing her answers were what they were looking for. The pain of losing Bellah had been a discussion lasting almost an hour.

         They'd gone over every word of her testimony of the incident, asking her again and again how she was feeling. Alberta could, and had, only gritted her teeth, smiled, and said she was fine, could they please continue.

         Tomorrow she would be transfered to the Mariner Treatment Center, where she would undergo rapid physical therapy for the next five days while simultaneously preparing for the next round of testing.

         "They sure are in a hurry," she muttered to herself.

         The next five days left little time for Alberta to do any more musing. The radical therapy left her as limp as a dead fish each evening and many times she wished for something to prop her eyes open with as she studied. As they had back when she had gone through the Mariner Academy, the books put Alberta to sleep.

         "Don't they ever update these things?" she asked one of the nurses as she was being rolled down the hall the first morning.

         "Of course they do," the nurse had replied, smiling. "A new cover, new order of chapters, sometimes even new authors."

         "That's not funny," Alberta had said, but they both were laughing as they continued down the corridor.

         The days flew by for the mariner, one long, endless day of rigorous, relentless, and neverending doctors and nurses, therapy and paperwork, and the everpresent, looming deadline.

         Towards the end of the last day, Alberta snapped. "I'm thirty years, old. My sex life is none of your damned business!"

         The startled clerk hastily apologized. He was, after all, only doing his job, but Alberta was tired of the endless, repeating questions. Her mind was stretched to breaking, but, ironically, she hadn't felt so physically fit since she'd won the Pacifica Endurance Race right before graduation. Of course, accepting her diploma had been rather difficult, as she'd hardly been able to lift her arms or walk . . . .

         But that was neither here nor there. "Either test me, or ship me out," she said.

         "I'll -- I'll just let the doctor know," stammered the clerk. He threw his papers into a pile and ran for the door.

         Alberta stared after him a moment. "Well!" she murmered. "I should have tried that ages ago!"

         The clerk was as good as his word. The very next day, Alberta was transfered to the Mariner Academy Testing Facility in Trenton, Allaria. The MATFTA was a small building smack in the middle of the city. The complex bordered the country's waterpark/zoo and all the trainers and most of the keepers were graduates of the Mariner Academy. The state-of-the-Art facilities boasted 3-D simulators so real they were almost unidentifiable from the real thing.

         Alberta was ushered inside and straight to the first round of computer testing. She found herself totally unprepared for the thoroughness of the tests and found herself wondering just what was going on.

         The mariner fell back on her experiences, siting specific examples in her answers. She decided the test was yet another psychological evaluation, more interested in her opinion than whether or not she was correct. Instead of instilling more stress in the mariner, as such tests had through the Academy, Alberta relaxed.

         They gave her a half-hour break, then sent her in for another round. This was mainly applied mathematics. Alberta had to pick her brain for this one. It had been a long time since she'd had to do any of these complex calculations.

         She was allowed a lunch break, then it was back for more testing. At the completion of all six rounds for the day, Alberta was escorted to her room. Even the fireworks next door couldn't keep her awake.

         The next day followed with more tests of the same. The last was a series of oral exams in marine anatomy, health, and assorted languages. Alberta found the latter both challenging and intriguing. Few of the species she deciphered the first time round, and the testors wouldn't tell her if she was or was not correct. Rather frustrating.

         But at last came the very last day of testing. Alberta was escorted to one of the indoor training pools owned and operated by the park. And who should be waiting there? Why, it was Mike!

         The mariner gaped at the scarred dolphin who'd partnered her during Hurricane Huey. His dark eyes followed Alberta as her escort brought her up to the official testors. Again, Alberta was astonished.

         "Sir. Ma'am," she greeted them, shaking their hands, a little overwhelmed. Who was she to have the International Director of Mariner Operations and Deputy Director supervising her exam? Just what was going on?

         "Good to finally meet you, Ms. Greenewoode," said Jackie Wright, the Deputy Director, smiling in what she probably thought was reassuring, but actually had just the opposite effect.

         "Well, shall we get started, then?" Trace McGulligan suggested. "Really, it's nothing to get excited over," he told Alberta, leading her over to the pool, "routine, that's all we're having you do ...."

         Routine? thought Alberta later. Ri-ght.

         But to her surprise (and relief!), Mike performed just as well, or (and the thought gave her a pang of longing), perhaps, better even than Bellah might've under the same circumstances. Together, Mike and Alberta tackled various underwater obstacles, rescued dummies from several of the worst weather the pool had to offer, and conducted specific, timed tasks such as constructing a temporary dome on the bottom of the pool. With nothing to ground it on, it of course floated back to the surface, but the important part, Alberta thought, was that she and Mike had it completed in what even she knew was better than average time.

         At last, worn out and breathing hard, the mariner leaned gratefully on Mike, resting her head against his smooth skin. "Thank you," she murmered quietly.

         The Director and his Deputy said nothing to Alberta as they gathered up the data and left. But, just before he left, Jackie turned back and said, "Good work. I look forward to seeing you again, under better circumstances."

         Alberta's eyes followed the two out, lingerng a moment on Trace's broad back and long, dark choclaty-brown hair. She sighed.

         "Okay there, Alberta?"

         She let herself get hoisted from the pool by the hovering attendants and hustled back to the training facility. She had time enough for a shower, a bite to eat, and then she found herself strapped into a Cjet, making time back to A.M.E. . . . And Mike also, in a special compartment to the rear.

         The trip lasted five and a half hours, but the time passed swiftly for Alberta. She slept almost entirely the whole way, with no dreams to interrupt. She lay, half-awake and groggy, as the pilot slowed the craft, radioing for permission to make the approach. Cjets were exclusive to the Mariners, being rescue craft, although the military had its own version. Alberta couldn't remember the designation off-hand. This Cjet, a one-hundred model, was a high-speed troop transport in Alberta's mind. In effect, it was a long distance ambulance with state-of-the-art facilities, but it was also the quickest way underwater from A to B. The two-hundreds were single person craft, one of the few, distinct advantages the mariners had against nature and poachers. The three-hundred model was still only in the design phase and looked to stay there for quite a while.

         "C-1-1-1 out of Allaria," came the voice of the pilot, sounding somewhat muffled through the headset of the medic who came to check on Alberta. He smiled as he checked the gauges. "Request approach vector . . . ."

         "Have a good nap?" the medic asked Alberta.

         She nodded, smiling sleepily.

         "Any pain?"

         "Nope," she replied slowly, feeling groggy and sort of detached, "you've got me too doped up to notice, anyway." She didn't even bother to wonder why she should have any pain.

         He grinned. "Good." The craft made a small turn and the medic's gaze flicked up to the cockpit for a moment. "We'll be in soon. Just stay put and let us do our job, okay?"

         Alberta felt a twinge of annoyance, but she was feeling too relaxed to argue much. "Fine," she yawned, her eyes closing in spite of her best efforts to stay conscious. The soft bump as they docked woke her again and she fumbled for the clips to her safety harness for a moment, before realizing where she was.

         The medic winked at her before reaching over to open the main doors. A couple more people, clothed in the red uniforms of the medical corps, stood by, waiting. Within moments they had Alberta hoisted out of the Cjet and onto a gurney, being wheeled into the hospital wing. Alberta drummed her fingers on the crisp, white sheets, wanting nothing more than to be walking under her own power again.

         Alberta soon found herself undergoing yet another physical exam, this time with the Academy's chief physisian, Dr Wilma Qiesun herself.

         "Just what is going on here?" Alberta asked.

         The doctor just smiled and continued with her tests. Still, it was only a couple hours later until Alberta steered herself into the academy cafeteria to feed her growling stomach. She avoided the student side, moving instead into the staff/visitor half. She'd spent her summer, prior to Hurricane Huey, topside, not in the main underwater facility of the Mariner Academy.

         She was definitely not prepared for the mostly worship-ful stares she received from the students. This was the first week of the new term and the lunchroom was packed. Like sardines, she thought wryly.

         The first year students, or guppies, as they were affectionately called, grouped together in one corner, while the older students milled about and cast half-envious, half-anxious looks at the head table, where the seniors sat. The guppies were followed by minnows and carp, the rest of the underclassmen. The upperclassmen started out as trout and then progressed into either Fins or Rays, the two tracks towards graduation as a mariner. Rays referred to those choosen to partner with the solitary, deep-water manta rays and Fins were those choosing to partner with the more social, shallow-water dolphins. There was a third track, never spoken of, but every mariner cadet's nightmare. Those were the wash-outs, the ones who quit or those unfortunate to be labeled as unsuitable for further progression.

         No, Alberta steered a straight course into the staff/visitor portion of the cafeteria, towards a table looking beside the clear, double and triple-thick panes of glass separating her from the ocean outside. A few faces looked up and smiled or nodded a greeting, but most ignored her, the norm for the busy lunch room.

         Large screens hung from the ceiling, with various news channels reporting on the present disaster for those choosing to tune in and listen via their headphones. Most of the current staff were focused on the computer terminals on every table, poring over class material or reviewing student work. A very few groups just chatted, and a larger gathering to one side of the entrance was discussing the merits and faults of several seniors. And, somewhat to the back of center, was a familiar, tanned figure, with his feet propped on the table, busy reading an ancient, paper-bound book.

         Alberta grinned and shook her head, setting down her tray and beginnng to shovel food down to her complaining stomach. Professor Discus Jordan still looked not-quite-thirty, but he'd been a professor since long before Alberta's cadet years. He was the chair of the History department and also the swimming coach. He was also the bane of Alberta's years at the academy; but at the same time he had been the only one who took her seriously. When she had said she wanted to win the Pacifica, the longest, most arduous, and most dangerous swimming race in the world, he'd been the only one not to laugh. Instead, he'd taken her from a raw, dog-paddling freshman, to the youngest Pacifica winner in the history of the race - a feat not once repeated in all the years since.

         She still remembered the ending vividly: Professor Jordon hauling her out of the water in a huge, bone-crushing hug, tears in his blood-shot eyes, and crying, "You've got spunk, girl, you've got spunk!"

         However, when he looked over his book at her and smiled, she froze, fork half-way to her mouth, desperately wracking her brains for what she'd done to attract his attention this time. Almost twenty years had gone by and he could still make her feal like an errant child.

         He's on his way over here!

         Professor Jordan was a 5' 2" behemoth of a man with the look of a marine, from his polished boots to his crisp uniform, to the shaved head. He dropped his book on the table and pulled around the chair to sit on it backward.

         "So how is our resident hero?" he asked.

         Alberta choked, coughing and giving her old professor a panicky look. "What?"

         But the old goon gave her a knowing smirk and changed the subject. He leaned over the table and whispered, "I hear that the Porpoise is back!"

         The one trait they both shared, beyond a love of the water, was a love of history. The Porpoise was almost a legend, launched over a century ago, to a distant star system, loaded with settlers and a sizeable chunk of the then-fledgling Mariner division to make a home on the water-planet the Space Exploration guys had found.

         Alberta gawked at Professor Jordan. "Really? When? Why?"

         He shrugged. "I --"

         "Ah! Just the two people I was looking for!"

         Both mariners looked up, guilty faces easing as they saw a fellow history buff grinning down at them. Professor Jordan recovered first.

         "Ms. McDonald," he said, "How goes the replacements?"

         She laughed. "You old ham, really, Professor! C'mon, I know what you two were just whispering so excitedly about."

         "You do?"

         "Well, you've been kinda out of touch for a while, Alberta, so you've probably missed all the newscasts." She waggled a finger at Professor Jordan. "That doesn't excuse, you, though, Professor."

         He shrugged broad shoulders, smiling amiably and yet contriving to look innocent.

         "Creep," Alberta laughed. "So what's the news, Bertie? Sit down, why don't you?"

         "Can't. I've been told to fetch you both to the Director's office." She looked at her watch. "Emma said ASAP, but that was almost twenty minutes ago. C'mon, we can chat on the way."

         Alberta scooped up the remains of her sandwich and followed the other two out of the lunchroom and into the nearest lift. "So what's happened?" she asked around mouthfuls.

         "A few days ago, they're being real secretive about when it actually happened," Bertie answered, " but Piazzi Observatory saw an object it didn't know how to classify and alerted the Star Forces. They went out to investigate and found an ancient starship, the Porpoise. Shots of the ship show extensive damage, but no one's been able to talk to the crew, they were in cryo at the time and since have been whisked away by the SF. Media's been having fun with it, I can tell you that much."

         "Only the Porpoise came back?"

         Both heads nodded. "Now I don't know anything about space," Bertie continued, "but you remember that satellite we picked up in the Atlantic right after you joined the team?"

         Alberta nodded.

         "Much worse - the ship looked terrible. Rumor has it that there was practically no one on board, either."

         Alberta blinked. "Does this have anything to do with why the Director wants to see us?"

         They looked at each other. Professor Jordan shrugged. "We're not exactly scientists or engineers, so I doubt it. Tobi knows I'm writing a book on the Porpoise, so perhaps that's some of it." He paused as the lift slowed to a stop. "We'll find out soon."

         The doors opened into a small, but elegantly furnished anteroom. Emma, the Director's secretary, waved to them from her desk. "Go on in, they're waiting for you."

         Swallowing nervously, Alberta followed the other two past Emma and to the double doors into the Director's office. Her usual open-mouthed stare at the view fastened instead on the Director and the company he kept. All four men rose as the three mariners entered.

         Closest to them was Tobi Jenkins, Director of the Mariner Academy. To his right was one of Alberta's testors, Trace McGulligan, the International Director of Mariner Operations. He smiled as he saw her. Across the table from Trace were two men Alberta had never seen before - in person, anyway. In fact, directly to Tobi's left was a man straight out of Alberta's history books: Dr Alex Mikoyan, Chief Scientist and leader of the Porpoise mission. To his left was Ajani Ebron, the UN Director of Space Exploration.

         Tobi beckoned them closer to make the introductions. "Alex, this is one of our professors, Discus Jordan."

         The astronaut smiled as he shook Professor Jordan's hand. "Ah, yes, Tobi has spoken much of you, Professor, it is good to meet you."

         "This is Bertille McDonald, head of our Disaster Relief Team."

         Alex's smile was no less sincere. "Un beau nom," he said.

         "Merci," she replied, "but I prefer Bertie."

         He nodded. "My pleasure." Then he looked at Alberta. "Ms Greenewood, the honor is mine."

         She flushed but couldn't form her mouth around words.

         Tobi cleared his throat and indicated the table. "Please, have a seat, we have much to discuss. Our biologist and engineer should be here shortly."

         Trace steepled his fingers together, elbows on the table as he spoke. "A.M.E.'s identified you three as the best choice for this mission, but I must inform you that you are not being ordered - that is, this is I - "

         The door opened and two more people entered. They stood as more introductions went around, with Tobi introducing his guests, as he had not done for the other three. The younger of the two was Elizabeth "Liz" Duncan, the chief engineer and patent-holder for the Cjets used by the Academy. The other was a dour-faced, tall and thin marine biologist, Dr Marc Lewis.

         "As I was saying," Trace continued. "You've been selected for a mission, but it's entirely volunteer. You will not be penalized for not wanting to proceed." He frowned. "I will not lie and say this is not dangerous. We don't know what you'll be walking into, we can only guess. If, at any time, during this presentation, you don't feel that you can continue," he looked at each of them in turn, "you will be free to go, no strings attached." He waited a moment, but no one moved. Satisfied, he turned to Dr Mikoyan. "Why don't you begin, Alex?"

         The astronaut took a deep breath. "As you are no doubt aware, the Porpoise and her sister-ships, the Neptune and the Posiedon, launched some hundred and five years ago, by your reckoning, towards a planet flagged for settlement, approximately here."

         As he'd been talking, Tobi had switched the view on the projector system to shots of, first, the outgoing expedition, then to a star chart. As Alex tapped on the smaller version in front of him, a chunk was highlighted and magnified.

         "We called the planet Okeaha, which, loosely translated, meant 'ocean world,' for the planet is 90% ocean." Now the pictures were shots of the planet. "The poles are fairly large, and there are a few islands, where undersea volcanoes have reached the surface. Still, the atmosphere is very close to ours and we were planning on making our homes beneath the surface anyway."

         He switched the pictures to show an undersea dome. "We set up our first undersea habitat by cannibalizing the Posiedon. Soon after landing, though, we discovered a mammal very much like our porpoises, and so we named them Okeaha Porpoises, or Opies, for short. They seem to be intelligent, but we were unable to communicate. Even the dolphins had difficulty.

         "As we built the habitat, more and more Opies began to appear in the water and they sure seemed to be trying to tell us something, but we couldn't understand them." He looked over at Alberta. "I have many hours' worth of recordings, sent with me by the colonists, but," and he switched back to pictures of the Opies, "to me, they're all an insensible collection of clicks and whistles.

         "Unfortunately, a different problem soon side-tracked us from deciphering the language: the Opies were sick, and the sick ones seemed to seek us out. We studied them, but were unable to ascertain what ailed them."

         Alex paused a moment, clearing his throat and taking a sip of water. "Meanwhile, our explorer teams had found what appeared to be a huge deposit of high-grade ore and so we made plans to build our second habitat there. Now, the ships we'd brought with us were only meant to be one-way transports, designed to be scrapped to build what we needed once we arrived. As the Porpoise was off exploring the rest of the system, we brought the Neptune down for the building.

         "By this time, we'd been on the surface for a couple of planetary years and had come no closer to finding the source of the Opie disease. In fact, the infection rate had increased and the Opies began dying in larger numbers. We managed to stick a couple young ones, healthy Opies, in cryo for later study, but concentrated on trying to heal the sick ones."

         Alberta frowned at the display. She heard Doc Lewis asking about the samples, but let the technical jargon pass her by. She was comparing the Opies to the dolphins.

         Liz leaned across the table and whispered, "I never did get a chance to ask what you thought of the new 'jet."

         Alberta grinned. "It was fantastic, Liz! Real manueverable. And fast. I think the intake had a little trouble in the last two gears, though."

         "Hmm." Liz made some notes on her electronic pad. "What about the the motion? Some of the test pilots found it choppy."

         "Oh, no, not at all! It swims like a dolphin, very fast, but very similar to grabbing a fin and being towed along."

         The two women grinned at each other.

         "Cool," said Liz. She made some more notes on her pad and then set it aside. "So you thinking what I'm thinking?"

         "What's that?"

         "They've set up a new expedition!" Liz whispered back. "I think we're going!"

         Alberta stared back at her. She couldn't hold back the delighted smile that crept to her face. "Really? You think so?"

         "Definitely! I --"

         Both were distracted by a new image replacing the physiological diagrams. A huge creature, straight out of undersea horror movies, graced the scene. It vaguely resembled a jellyfish, with long, slender arms and a thick, tubular body. The closer picture showed a large beak-like protuberance and the next picture showed the beak open, open around a maw of razor-sharp teeth.

         "What is that?" Alberta gasped.

         Alex smiled grimly. "We're not entirely sure. They attacked the second habitat and we had to evacuate. We managed to get these photos from the few working cameras after. We call them "kracken," after our own, mystical creature. They're huge, dwarfing most of our whales, and seem to be the largest creature in Okeaha's oceans. Or at least I certainly hope so! Our best guesses estimate these guys to be about a hundred feet long, with arms two to three times that length.

         "Here, take a look at this one." He pulled up a grainy photo that showed one of the kracken's arms up close. "They almost look like giant squid, only no squid I know of can beat its way through plexiglass and composite steel." He jerked a thumb towards the hull of Tobi's office.

         "In any case, when these guys showed up, the Opies vanished, gathered their pods and just took off. I don't blame them. Those kracken could easily make a meal out of a couple Opies, and they sure killed a lot of our colonists, and the mariners trying to protect them." He scowled.

         "I'm guessing you didn't catch one?" Bertie said, staring at the pictures.

         Alex shook his head. "No. I do have samples from pieces we managed to salvage from Habitat Two, but after the krackens moved in there, it was too dangerous to go back. We did notice, though, that the kracken didn't seem interested in destroying the habitat. Once we left it, and them, alone, they seemed happy for a while just, uh, guarding it."

         "Guarding?" prompted Bertie.

         He nodded. "They surrounded it and chased us off whenever we tried to get close, but they didn't seem intent on destroying the facility. I'm a marine biologist by training, and I think the kracken are more suited to deeper water, well below where we were. I'd say they usually reside in the deep crevasses of the planet, at depths greater than 5 thousand feet where we couldn't go. If that's the case, though, I feel sure that the kracken we saw are young, that only the 'little' ones could come so close to the surface. Only question is, what do they feed on down there?"

         "Did no one explore?" asked Liz, making some hasty sketches on her pad.

         "Yes and no, I suppose," Alex answered. "We knew that there was deeper water, but we didn't have a reliable means to go investigate. Our craft was only certified down to about two thousand feet. Our habitats were both built at about five-hundred feet."

         "How big are the Opies?" Alberta asked, with a small frown.

         "Approximately eight to twelve feet in length, and the largest we saw weighed approximately fourteen-hundred pounds."

         All the mariners stared at him. "I know, I know," he said with a laugh, "they're like little whales, aren't they? True enough, we saw many larger species, but the Opies were the only ones that sought us out and made themselves easy to study. We were trying to concentrate on setting up the colony first, before moving on to studying the population more in-depth. Still, they're fascinating, aren't they? They seemed to regard our dolphins with a paternal type of amusement."

         "We have partnered with manta rays now, too," said Tobi. "Our rays can dive to depths of twenty-two-hundred feet."

         Alex stared, then his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Genetic manipulation?" he asked.

         Tobi nodded. "I understand such machinations weren't popular back in your day, but they've become necessary since."

         Grimacing, Alex looked away.

         "What matters here," Trace interjected, "is that the rays' extended range is useful to the problem here. Without their specialized gear, dolphins only have a range of a thousand feet and must resurface every couple of hours, even with extra tanks. They're simply not built for the pressures at further depths. The rays, on the other hand, with their diving equipment, are capable to - what now, Professor Jordan?"

         The professor looked up from his study of the kracken. "It's effectively doubled," he answered. "With the new suits, the rays can dive down to about four thousand feet."

         "What's the record?"

         "Forty-five hundred."

         "Held by?"

         "Myself, Mr McGulligan. Archie and I hold that record." He looked over at Alex who had a queer look on his face, like he'd tasted something sour. "Our dive teams train to an average three-thousand feet, for approximately four-hour intervals. The limiting factor is the number of tanks we can carry down for the mariners. The rays, of course, don't need them."

         Trace nodded and turned to the astronaut. "I think we can find the source of your krackens, Alex," he said gently. "What say we leave the gene splicing for another discussion?"

         "What we're thinking," the quiet Ajani said before Alex could respond, "is a joint expedition, managed by Ms McDonald, that would," he held up his fingers as he spoke, "one: re-settle the world; two: find a cure for your mysterious illness; and three: hunt down the krackens."

         Alex's worried frown deepened. "Even with the credit from the mine, that's going to put us in debt for a long time. We may never recover."

         The UN leader shrugged. "We have our own stake in seeing that the colony survives. You know that better than most."

         Asked Bertie into the silence that followed, "Just what is it we're being volunteered for?"

         "Ah," said Trace, rubbing his hands together in excitement. "We've decided to divert some of the new colony ships to resupply Okeaha, with hand-picked settlers experienced in both mining and undersea habitation. Tobi forwarded me your names, as key members in the Mariner division that will be in overall charge of the expedition. The Okeahans stipulated that as part of the agreement."

         Alex nodded his head to that. "I'm the de facto, uh, Ambassador of Okeaha," he said, coloring a little. "I was myself 'volunteered' to lead this mission back here." He looked up at the screen, which now showed a panorama image of the undersea Habitat One. "We knew it would take time to get back here, but the extra years seemed worth the risk. I can only wonder what has become of them."

         "That, at least," said Ajani with a noteable satisfaction, "we can at least mitigate a little. It will be a short hop for our new ships, only a couple months in space, and only the settlers will be spending the trip in suspended animation. We'll get back there long before they expect us."

         "If," Alex said quietly, "there's anyone left to expect us."

         "So what is this expedition?" asked Bertie.

         "As to that," answered Tobi, "A.M.E. has picked you to lead the trip. There are several parts that the mariners will be responsible for. The first one is finding and securing any of the remaining colonists."

         "Is that why my team was split up?"

         "Indeed. A.M.E. selected all but a few to accompany you to Okeaha. The second aspect of your responsibility will be helping the new colonists settle in and, of course, keeping them safe. You will have exploratory missions, of course, but those duties will be mostly taken care of by the teams under Jordan and Alberta. Their two groups will do exactly what Ajani hinted towards. Jordan will go after the krackens, and Alberta will be tasked to find and communicate with the Opies."

         "And me?" asked Liz, squirming with excitement.

         Tobi sighed. "We'll sorely miss you here, Liz, but A.M.E. says your Cjet designs will be well-suited to Okeaha and I suppose I ought to send somebody who knows how to service them adequately. Plus, the navy is donating one of their new deep-submersibles, which will need a pilot. You're certified."

         "Cool! Is Kian coming too, then?"

         Tobi sighed. "Yes, the rascal has a prior navy rating, so he's also certified as a back-up pilot and navigator."

         "Which deep-sub?"

         Tobi sighed again. "You'll just have to wait and see, Liz." He winced as he met Dr Lewis' implacable gaze. "Doctor, your mission is fairly straight-forward. When, or if, Alberta finds the Opies, your team is set the task of finding the cure for whatever ails them, and, secondly, to being the doctor for our own fins and rays that will be going along with the expedition."

         "Oh good," sighed Dr Lewis, "I was afraid you'd say I had an easy job!"