Message-ID: <3709816F.B192F333@netzero.net> Date: Mon, 05 Apr 1999 23:37:31 -0400 From: Ann Marie Tajuddin Subject: SoS 6 Ann Marie K. Tajuddin Sink or Swim 6 ------ "Sink or Swim" Part VI November, 1999 Stallions Gate, NM Al left the Imaging Chamber feeling more confident that Kate was in good hands, especially now that Sam was doing better than before. Which only left one major problem to deal with at that moment. With little more than a nod to Gooshie, he went straight to the elevators and then to his quarters. He pulled off his jacket and slung it over the back of his chair, then seated himself and turned on the monitor. "Ziggy?" He stretched his arms and hands, then rested his palms against the base of the keyboard. "Need anything, Admiral?" she purred. "I believe Tina's still out on her shopping spree, but Lt. Commander Simmons is off duty." He smiled faintly; he'd learned long ago that you could either get irritated at the computer's haughty tones, or you could be amused at them. He regularly rotated between the two. "Yeah - can you pull up the file on Cary Martel I asked you to run down earlier?" "Any particular format you'd like it displayed in?" He loosened the shimmering tie and sighed. "I don't care." Data flashed across his screen abruptly. Cary Martel. Born: September 4, 1981 in Clayton, NE. Occupation: none. Currently resides in Santa Fe, NM. Mother: Victoria Martel, deceased. Father: unknown. Al scrolled down a page, his eyes widening as the header "Arrest Record" caught his eyes. "Arrest record," he grumbled angrily. "Yeah, I'll give you a record, you nozzle." According to the file, Cary was 18, but Karen was still a minor. "Arrested once, two years ago, for possession of heroin on school grounds." He leaned back, dismay written across his features. "Oh, please tell me that's not why you went to him, Karen..." He wiped a hand across his face and resumed his research. "Brat never graduated high school. There's a big shock. Dropped out when he was 16..." He scrolled down again. "Currently under investigation for the possession and possible distribution of several illegal drugs," Al read. It was no surprise - how else could he be unemployed, living alone, and paying rent? At least Al had a legitimate reason not to bring Karen back to Cary's apartment. The question was, would she be upset at this information, or did she know it already? For all the trouble she'd gotten herself into, he could still tell she was a sweet kid - maybe even a little naive. Maybe a little too easy to manipulate. Even so, "nice kids" got into this stuff and close family and friends never knew until it was too late. Al made up his mind at that moment to find out. In spite of the evidence, Al suspected she was still in the process of being pushed into something she didn't want. He doubted she'd crossed the line, yet. He glanced at his watch and decided to give her another couple hours' sleep before he went to her with his findings. The grief that had been brought to the surface that afternoon was deeply rooted and he knew she'd need time to sleep off that emotional exhaustion. "Ziggy? Is she asleep?" "She, Admiral?" the computer replied innocently. "According to staff records, there are at least 25 'shes' currently within project grounds. An estimated eight of them sleep here on a regular basis and, for five of them, the quarters here at the project are the only residence they have." Al ground his teeth. "Karen. Is Karen asleep?" "There are two females with the first name 'Karen' at this-" "Ziggy," Al warned sternly. Amusement was quickly giving way to the aforementioned irritation. "You know who I mean." "Yes, Admiral. She progressed into an unconscious state shortly after your departure and has been ever since. Would you like me to estimate the time she will waken?" "Naw. I'll just wake her up in a couple hours myself." He considered the monitor for a moment. "You said Deb Simmons was off duty?" ~~~~~~ Kate had gone back to bed and Sam saw no very good reason not to follow suit. His rest was interrupted much too soon as he took over wheel watch. He found himself wishing Al had left him with a few more instructions, but Steve had set the course already and there was really nothing much to do but sit up there and hope there wasn't too much more he needed to know about how to run a small boat in a big storm. Still, if what Al said was true, they were going to be getting worse later on. At least it was going to get better before it got worse. Through the five hour shift Sam had been allocated, he could see the swells begin to decrease. It still wasn't calm, but at least it was tame, especially compared to what they'd had earlier. Steve had told Sam to wake him when the swells dropped to an estimated ten feet or so so they could set the line, whatever that meant. By the time hour four came along, he was unbuckling the seat belt in the skipper's chair and knocking on Steve's door. There was a pause, then a voice muffled by sleep emerged through the thin door. "We ready?" Sam hesitated. "I think so." "Go get Elliot up. And wake Kate up, too, in case she wants to watch the line being set." "Okay." Sam descended the stairs with considerably more ease than before, eyed the trash bag filled with dented, but still unbroken, aluminum cans with restrained humor, and knocked on Elliot's door. "Time to get to work," he called. The door opened and the unexpected happened: Elliot bounded out yelling at the top of his lungs, "Okay! Now we get to do some fishing!" Kate cracked the door to her stateroom and shook her head. "I hate morning people," she muttered and smiled woozily at Sam. "What's going on?" Elliot had moved to the galley and was fixing himself a sandwich. "Oh, Steve said it's time to set the line. He wanted me to ask if you wanted to watch." She sighed, reluctance plain on her face. "I guess I should, at least for a few minutes." Sam hesitated. Dizziness and the half-asleep look on her face had him worried. "Maybe you shouldn't go out - I mean, things are a lot calmer, but... Maybe you should take advantage of that by getting something to eat." Her grin was lopsided. "Oh, I can watch you okay from in here." Steve came down the stairs, shaking the last of sleep from his face, and smiled dimly at Kate. "Morning. I'm going to get myself a frozen pizza from the engine room - you want one?" She sat at the table, trying to cover for how lightheaded she looked. "Sure, thanks, Steve." He nodded and opened the hatch in the floor next to the door that led out to the deck and descended the stairs there. Sam was glad he wasn't supposed to know anything about how to run things down there, especially as he'd seen both Steve and Elliot make several trips up and down the steep steps. Elliot pushed past him with some microwaveable snack in one hand and a sandwich in the other. "We're fishing!" he crowed. Sam sighed. "Now you get to do some work, doncha, Kate? Oh, wait, no you don't. Wish I had your job." "Nope. You'd need a degree." "Wanna come out and help?" he asked cheerfully. "Wanna give me your salary?" She was trying to be lighthearted, but Sam could see her annoyance. She obviously wasn't as good at hiding how she felt in the early hours. Or was it the dead of night? Sam honestly couldn't tell, even by looking out the porthole. How many hours of sunlight did Alaska get in September, anyway? From what he'd seen it had been enough... "Nope." His smile was ingratiating and it remained plastered to his face while he pulled on his gear. Sam and followed suit while Steve went back up to the wheelhouse, then walked out on deck. Setting the line turned out to be incredibly (and thankfully) easy. They pulled the tubs to the back of the boat, tied the end of one line to the start of another, and lined the tubs up. Then they threw over an anchor with a long line and a set of buoys attached to it. Another line went from the anchor leading to the first tub. Steve started the engine and, once the anchor had found its hold, just the motion of the boat pulled the line out from the stern. The instant sharp hooks began flying off the back, flocks of gulls and fulmars and a few albatross clustered around, trying to peck off the bait. Elliot picked up a metal bar and began banging against the boat to scare them. Sam took his cue and did the same every time the pests drew too close to the line. It couldn't have taken more than 20 minutes until the line was set and Sam was helping stack the empty tubs and then going inside. Steve met them inside the galley. "We're gonna head northeast," he informed them, marking his course with his index finger along a map pinned to the wall beside the stairs, "and then stop right about...here. The weather's coming in about five or six hours, so this should bring us to the position we set given current and wind in about four hours and we can find our buoys and pull it then." Sam nodded and Elliot did likewise. "Who's taking the first shift?" Elliot questioned. "I'll sit up there 'til we pull the set and then after we get underway, you can take the first watch." "Sounds good. I'm gonna go get a few more hours." Sam nodded. Elliot had taken the longest shift of all of them earlier. He glanced around for Kate and noticed her sitting on her bunk, a three-ring binder open in front of her, and a calculator in her hand. *At least she's doing something instead of sitting in her bunk being miserable.* "What are you doing?" he asked curiously as he pulled off his sweatshirt. "Paperwork," she replied without looking up. "I'm not a biologist - I'm a secretary..." The tightness in her voice revealed she was putting on another top notch performance. "Guess it comes with the territory," he managed. She glanced at him, smiling apologetically. "I really do like it, though, paperwork and all. I love...getting out here and getting my hands dirty. Beats a cushy office job..." "Well, some of the hardest jobs are the most rewarding." "It's not so much the work itself that's so difficult, though it can be. It's more that you never know where you're going to be the next day or who you'll be with. I've really lucked out, but you don't know if you're going to be around people who hate you or who just tolerate you, or who are genuinely friendly. It's so unpredictable. Which is both its charm and it's trial..." *Sounds like leaping.* He nodded solemnly. "Hey, Steve says another four hours and then we pull this set, and then we go into Juneau." "What if you don't fulfill your given quota with this set?" she asked. "I think he's going to go in anyhow. There's a gale coming." Her face fell and he realized just how out-of-the-loop the observer ended up being. "Another one?" "Yeah... But it's just 20 hours into Juneau," he said hopefully. "I am going to be _so_ glad to see dry land," she said lightly. "I've never actually kissed dirt before, but..." "I'll be right there beside you," Sam laughed. "I think even Elliot was starting to turn a little green." "Elliot..." She rolled her eyes, prompting another chuckle from the leaper. "Yeah, he's sorta...well, he comes on a bit strong sometimes." "Makes you wonder who the skipper is," she agreed. "He's not so bad, just, yeah, just a bit on the strong side. But, then I guess he's been doing this the longest, and when you know what you're doing..." Sam thought of his blunt commands of him when he leaped in, then again whenever he took over wheel watch for him, and had to agree that he was far too commanding for one of the underlings. Not that there was a whole lot of structure with just three people to begin with. Still, the one thing that was apparent was that a boat was certainly not a democracy and even Elliot clamed up and obeyed when Steve told him to do something. "That makes you and I the slow ones on board, right?" "Speak for yourself," she teased. "Besides, I don't have to answer to anyone while I'm working. I do later, but not now. Don't have anyone to question my methods." "Must be nice." "Yeah..." She tossed the calculator aside and packed up the binder and her other tools quickly and shakily. Then she leaned her head against the wall and managed a weak grin. "Well, if you're up to cooking, I could do some eating." He clapped his hands together once, grinning. He didn't even need to work up to that suggestion, apparently. "I could cook your pizza," he suggested. She looked embarrassed. "Oh, I completely forgot about that. I'm sorry - I can do that myself." He stopped her by holding his hand up. "It's my pleasure. Come on - Elliot's asleep. Let's go scour the movie shelves and see if we can't find anything better than Revenge of the whatever it was he was watching last night." "Sounds like a date." He raised an eyebrow. "Really..." "No, not really. I'm married." She grinned sweetly and walked past him into the galley, leaving him to shake his head and wonder how she'd gotten herself killed and how he could be 100% certain it wouldn't happen again.