Chapter 1
"In still moments by the sea life seems large-drawn and simple. It is there we can see into ourselves."
― Rolf Edberg
"We really can't say." They seem to enjoy repeating the phrase every time Phil asks another question, pulling on some half-respectable looking clothing and flattening his hair a little as they march him out the front door, apparently unaware that it is usually considered impolite to wake a man at 3am and inform him that a member of the government wishes to talk to him. Particularly when said government is not his own.
The car is comfortable enough, and Phil shuffles about on the black leather, only bothering to grin at the suited man across from him once before settling back and watching the sandy coastline fly by them as they drive, lapping waves reflected in the ambient moonlight, creating a truly beautiful sight. Phil's never been one to argue with a primary school teacher, let alone an armed stranger in the middle of the night, so the wisest action seems to be to oblige these government members and see what they require.
The journey isn't too long, which is unexpected- Phil always made a point of staying far from the nearest city centre when on research trips. They turn down a dirt road and zigzag up into the rainforest, any vestiges of pale light swiftly obstructed by the thick foliage that arches over the road. A large, concrete building sticks up out of the greenery, and once Phil is inside it, he realizes the sterility and cold, metal surfaces are utterly incongruent with the nature outside. He's searched, and his phone and laptop are taken, by which point he's beginning to wonder just how far his compliance should extend.
Phil waits at a bare desk for only a few moments before two frowning men sit down opposite him. They place a sheet of paper on the table between themselves, which Phil quickly recognises as his own work resume.
"It says here that you studied at Cambridge, a degree in marine biology-"
"A doctorate," corrects Phil, "in field macrobiology- but that seems to intimidate employees, so I've just put my honours there."
He receives a long stare, but the disgruntled man eventually continues.
"Well then, Dr Lester-"
"Please," Phil interrupts again, "Phil will do just fine!" His beguiling smile doesn't quite placate the second man, who looks ready to stand up and walk out, but the first speaker clears his throat and soldiers on.
"We apologise for bringing you in on such short notice, and at a time like this, but this is a situation which has the potential to change the way we see humankind. Confidentiality and efficiency must be our priorities." He pauses, as if anticipating another comment from Phil, but none arises. The man clears his throat again (apparently a habit of his) and pushes a folder across the table to Phil.
"This is your contract with ASIO-" Phil makes a noise as if to ask a question, but is interrupted before he can make out a word, "The Australian Security Intelligence Organisation, confirming your presence in this project and ensuring you will not speak of the events that pass within these walls to anyone or anything outside of them." Phil flips open the manilla folder and scans over the words printed within. It's all very ominous- refusal of re-entry to the country, federal prison for breaching international law, stripped of his qualifications…
"This is some serious stuff, isn't it?" Phil doesn't mean to smile, but he's finding himself wishing he wasn't the only person with a doctorate in field macrobiology to accept placement on this reef. There's nothing sneaky about the contract: it just states very clearly that if he breaks the conditions, his career, as well as his freedom, will be destroyed. Whatever they're trying to keep secret, Phil doubts there would be any reason for him to risk all that.
With a click of a pen, Phil flourishes a signature along the bottom line. The papers are instantly withdrawn, and the pair stand, Phil following suit a moment later. Not bothering to stifle an enormous yawn, Phil wishes once again that they'd let him keep his phone. Checking the time is one reason, yes, but as they movedeeper and deeper into the building, a form of communication to the outside world seems increasingly like a good idea.
Phil half-jogs to keep up with the men's rapid paces as they leave the room and hurry along a long corridor, passing door after unlabelled door. Phil presses his nose up against one of their small glass windows and spies a spectrometer and several empty tanks- so is this a lab? Catching up with quick, short steps, Phil tries to remember if there have been any papers he's come across from an unknown institution, but none come to mind. Either the work they perform here has all gone unpublished, or it was never made public- he's not sure which option is more preferable.
They round a corner and are greeted by another security checkpoint. This time, their little party doesn't barge right through the doors, instead waiting outside while Phil restlessly shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and the suited men watch him with stony glares. Finally, a woman emerges from behind the doors, pushing large glasses back up her nose and untucking mussed hair from the collar of her labcoat. She greets them with nods and short words before grabbing Phil's file and scanning over it quickly.
She looks up at him, one eyebrow raised.
"You're seriously going to help us out and agree to all this?" Her tone seems surprised rather than judgemental, but Phil just shrugs.
"Yeah, sure? I mean, I have no reason not to, and it's got to be something interesting, given how ridiculous my night has been so far…" His voice peters out, but she's now grinning widely.
"That's… great. That's super great. I'm Jo; come on." She grabs his wrist, not waiting for a response, pulling him through the doors. "We're really having no breakthroughs, and we have no idea what kind of environment is suitable. The last thing we'd want to do right now is have this whole thing collapse or the specimen die-"
They stop outside a door as she keys in a code and presses three fingers firmly against a scanner pad.
"Specimen?" Phil echoes. The woman nods again, repositioning her glasses and tapping a foot as they wait to be let in.
"Yep. It was found in the Mindanao Deep. Some teams were doing scans and collections down a bit deeper than we'd gone before and they found this- I mean, it's nothing like we've seen before, but somehow their tank managed to bring it up alive. It seems to be doing okay in our aquarium here, unless we're secretly killing it but just haven't worked it out yet- oh, there we go!" The doors light up and slide open, letting them into the huge lab, which is locked behind them.
It's bigger and far more equipped than anywhere Phil's ever worked, with several enormous tanks, complete with heating, feeding and acidity regulators, benches covered with scopes and testing of that really holds his attention once he adjusts to the magnificence of the room and processes what he's seeing, right in front of him, thrashing and flapping it's tail madly against the edge of the large, glass tank in which it's being held.
"So this is-" His voice chokes are literally no words he can think of aside from the obvious, but that seems juvenile and unprofessional and, above all, absolutely impossible.
"Oh, yes." She claps him on the shoulder, hard. "You'd best believe it, buddy, even if I barely can."
A long, deep turquoise tail, scattered with royal purples and blues, beats at the glass, as if attempting to smash it open. It's beautiful and oddly compliments the slim, humanoid torso that follows just above, sculpted like a statue but too sinewed, skin a shade too purpley to look like a healthy person. Two strong arms form fists and join the attack on the glass. But most enchanting and terrifying is it's face- or rather, his face. Dark eyes blaze daggers down on everyone in the room, mouth open and expelling bubbles with subdued shrieks accompanying every beat against the glass. The angular jaw and cheekbones would make any supermodel jealous, but the large set of gills located just below the ears leave a picture too improbable for Phil to fully comprehend.
"A mermaid?" He manages to say, mouth dry and eyes wide.
"Technically, merman." She holds out her hand and shakes his, firmly. "I'm Dr Wilde, and this, this is gonna be a long night."
All my thanks to Courtney and Alana for their fabulous help with editing and creating art for this story! Check my tumblr/AO3 for links to art and more :D
Thanks for reading! I know I've not posted in literally forever but here you go! It's all coming up in one go, and two more stories are on their way in the next few days :) I hope you enjoy and let me know what you thought!
xx panfs