Page 2 of Ruining His Smirk

Keith gave me a level look. “You know a funny thing about firefights?”

“Enlighten me.” I spread my hands.

He didn’t even look at me as he spewed his nonsense. “Sometimes the shortest ones leave the longest scars.”

“That’s not as deep or poetic as you think it is,” I ground out.

He grinned.

“What?”

“No one else… excepthimgets under your skin like this.”

I opened my mouth.

Closed it again.

“And there goes your defense,” he chuckled.

“Defense my arse.”

He bumped my shoulder but mercifully shut his trap. We stood in silence for a moment. Another gust of Antarctic wind swept across the ice and I shivered.

“How’s that fine arse doing?”

“Frozen like a brass monkey.”

He grinned. “Your British always shows up when you’re truly suffering. Coffee?”

“Tea.”

The two of us went inside, immediately enveloped by the blissfully climate-controlled warm air of our ship.

* * *

Three days later, the team found the spot where we wanted to park our ship for the next few weeks. It was right next to an iceberg and would allow us to study the ocean floor.

All of us had gathered in the science hangar. It was the first time we were going to use the moon pool since leaving the mainland, and the excitement aboard the ship was palpable. I looked at the water visible in it. It was a square opening in the floor, four meters by four meters, surrounded by sturdy railings. Dark seawater rose and fell inside it with the gentle movement of the ship. Looking down into it felt profoundly wrong. Every instinct insisted a hole straight through the middle of a ship shouldn’t exist.

It was the heart of the vessel.

“Easy now,” Captain Birch called, leaning over the moon pool’s railing. “That little beauty costs a million dollars.”

One of the technicians looked up with a patient smile. “Yes, Captain.” She’d been handling the probe like fine china long before he’d said anything. The probe was about the size of alarge canister vacuum, a squat rectangular machine enclosed in a black metal frame, with cameras and large headlamps across its sides.

The captain watched for another second before rubbing his hands together. “So then.” He looked around at us. “What treasures are we expecting to bring back from the bottom of the Southern Ocean? Mermaids?” A few chuckles rippled through the hangar.

“Mud,” Hillary said with a grin. She cupped both hands in front of her as though holding an overflowing heap. “Beautiful, glorious mud.”

The captain shook his head. “Spoken like a scientist.” He turned toward me. “And you, Nate?”

“I’m just here for the fun. My whales don’t hang around here. They need vast open areas.”

“Excellent. I’m here for the fun too.” He clapped his hands together.

Just as the technicians finished setting up the probe, the hangar doors opened behind me. I glanced over my shoulder as another group filtered inside. Keith was among them.

The captain looked around at the growing crowd and laughed.