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Captain Aria asked, “Sarah, perhaps you’d like to say a few words?”

Sarah stood, raised her glass, and cleared her throat. “Mark your history books people. Rebecca and I have, on this day, found thriving turtle nests. We also spotted an endangered seabird that we thought was long gone. The water quality around the island was excellent. So much flora and fauna there. Fish. Crabs. Shells. It was amazing.”

Everyone cheered their glasses and Dan said, “To baby turtles, and their cute little legs!”

Rebecca said, “We’ll stay tomorrow and then we head back to port, this has been an excellent trip. Nothing but good news.”

Dan said, “Except of course Army’s hands.”

Beckett chuckled. “Hear hear.”

_________________

After dinner as the crew went singing to the upper decks, Beckett attempted to radio Luna.

“Hello Luna, are you there?”

— static —

“Luna?”

— static —

He fiddled the dial back and forth repeating her name. All he heard were the usual voices, conversations, and one faint voice, garbled and masculine. Finally he gave up.

_________________

Beckett leaned on his favorite portion of railing, looking over the darkened ocean. The ship was facing west. The island they were anchored beside was northwest. Beckett faced east, thinking about the distance between where he stood, Luna, and land.

Snippets of the crew’s revelry reached his ears. Jeffrey and Rebecca were singing a drunken song. “With a howeeeeee yo!”

Beckett chuckled, they were seriously out of tune.

Behind him Sarah, usually quiet and sensible, squealed and giggled, “Whoa, Tiger.”

Dan laughed merrily. “I can’t help myself you’re so hot, Baby.”

Rebecca yelled, “Get a room!” and everyone laughed.

The water below where he stood was deep and black as night. The sky above was cloudy and grey and low. Like the up and down were reversed. The sea seemed endless, the sky close. And it was really. They were all moving higher as the sea grew.

Sarah thought this island was nothing but good news. But she had been looking at it from the surface — the water’s edge was thriving. From Beckett’s perspective though, up above, from the boat deck — the same perspective he had from his Outpost, the same as from his mountain home, looking down at what was happening — it was clear.

The sea was rising. Pushing everything (and everybody) up and up to the last available spaces, where they were clawing and clamoring for purchase on the last remaining ground.

Maybe before there were twenty islands with three sea turtle nests on each one. Now there were three islands, with five sea turtle nests. He wanted to be happy, to celebrate with them, but he couldn’t. He could only mourn the loss of all that land.

He usually looked up at night, but tonight’s cloudy, starless sky gave him one less thing to worry about. If it had been a star-filled sky, Beckett would feel very small. He didn’t want to feel small. He wanted to feel in control, able to do this.

Instead he had that anxious, skin crawling, dread, like any news coming his way wasn’t going to be good.

He tried to tell himself that his worries were always wrong. He had worried that the Outpost would collapse below him. It didn’t. That Luna was dead. She wasn’t. That he wouldn’t find her. And guess what, in the entire ocean, he found her.

It would be impossible to lose her now. The fates didn’t have that kind of humor.

His luck would hold.

Or maybe it wouldn’t.

He gripped the railing, took a deep, head-down breath, blew it out and straightened.

He walked over to the others. Jeffrey and Dr Mags were lounging on deckchairs. Rebecca held a bottle, loosely, by its neck, and slurred, “In the expanthe of the univerth I saw a turtle nest and that was awesome,” before she lost track of what she wanted to say and giggled.

Dan’s face was buried in Sarah’s shoulder, whispering in her ear.

Beckett interrupted, “I’m headed to bed.” He tried for an upbeat, merry tone.

The others called, “G’night Beckett!”

And he headed to his bunk to sleep.