“This will make you feel even better,” Shrinker said, pointing as the captain carried over the oxygen tank.
The Coastguardsman took the apparatus from the captain and expertly slipped the mask onto Spencer’s face. Pupfish lowered him back to the deck, prone.
It was all done so…caringly.
Wow.Spencer could get used to all this attention. Especially what he was receiving from Tabitha as she, too, fussed over him.
This wasn’t his norm, being the center of anyone’s universe, but it actually felt pretty damned good.
Growing up in a family of eight boys, there had always been just too many adolescent bodies around for him to stand out in the crowd. When he’d gone into the Army for his short stint, nobody there had been recognized as an individual, either. The same with being on the police department in Bangor. Spencer had simply been one of many patrolmen.
Subsequently, living on the Atlaua with a dozen other guys didn’t exactly make one feel special, either, but with everyone currently hovering and Tabitha keeping hold of his hand, Spencer felt the love.
A few minutes on the oxygen, and the pounding in Spencer’s head receded.
“I feel even better now,” he said behind his mask, attempting to sit up.
Strong hands pushed him back down. “Uh, uh. Now isnotthe time to test the staying power of those nitrogen bubbles,” Shrinker told him, then lifted his head like a dog sniffing the wind. “Our cutter’s getting close. Once you’re safely in the hyperbaric chamber, you can get our medic’s opinion on how long you’ll be out of commission and how much physical activity you should be doing.”
Spencer grunted his assent, but he wasn’t unschooled. He knew the calculations regarding decompression time using elapsed submersion time and depth.Yup.Five or six hours in the chamber and he’d be good to go.
“All hands.”
Spencer heard the cry from the approaching ship.
He couldn’t see what was happening, but he could picture it in his ever-clearing head. First, there’d be a rope transfer by a seasoned crew member; someone who would send an initial throwing-line to a deck-hand on the Atlaua.
Thunk.
Indeed, Spencer heard the slap of the toss as it hit its mark.
Next, multiple ropes would be strung between the ships where they’d be made secure, while the pair of captains used the engines and anchors to keep their positions steady.
Finally, a telescopic gangway would be deployed, making egress possible between the ships.
With two expert crews, this would all be accomplished very quickly.
Sure enough, within minutes, Spencer heard, “Request permission to come aboard.”
“Permission granted,” the Atlaua’s first mate answered.
The next thing Spencer knew, he was surrounded by white uniforms, and?—
“What the hell? Spence?”
Spencer blinked twice as he focused on the backlit individuals above him. One in particular.
Was he hearing things? Hallucinating?
“B…Buck?”
Tabitha, still clinging to his hand, immediately burst out laughing. “No way. Not another one? Are you freaking kidding me?”
Well, that answered that.
ItwasBuck. Spencer and this sibling, just like the rest of the clan, looked eerily alike.
“I’m guessing, yes?” Spencer chuckled, then coughed at the slight strain it caused. “Tabitha Miers, meet DeAngelo “Buck” Sothard. My Coastguard brother.”
