Author's note: Good day to those, who had decided to grace this fic with their visit. There are a few things I would like to bring your attention to before you start reading this:

a) I am not a native English speaker and I do not use beta. I proofread the content myself and improve as much flaws as I can find. I do my best and if it is offensive to you in any way, I truly apologize for it.

b) I might not update frequently. I will try to do so but I am on the final lap for my diploma and I was really unsure of even starting this whole ordeal but my inner fan-girl demanded an outlet. So apologies if I update with the speed of a turtle.

c) I write short chapters. Really. I hardly ever hit past 1500 words. But I prefer writing per event/scene and uniting several scenes in one chapter is really not my thing.

d) Last but not least, if you have a comment, a wish or a critique you want to discuss privately - feel free to shoot me a PM, I'll be more then happy to answer any questions/take suggestions, etc.

The bullet-points above are made this way because in the past I had received similar questions at one point or another. So I want to spare you some time, dear reader. Anyway, I hope you enjoy my little crazy idea.

Cheers, AngelT


Docks. He had been in so many that they all seemed like home to him nowadays. The smells, the sounds… While irritating and somewhat appalling to others it gave him the sense of adventure and the feeling of freedom. He grew up in the military family and spent most of his time at sea, staying in the harbors of exotic countries and sneaking out as soon as he figured out how to avoid detection by his mother, the fiercest alarm system that had ever been created.

Looking back he saw her reasons, a teenager alone in the dark alleyways of an alien country is a recipe for all kinds of disasters. But he got by, for he had wit and a couple of talents your general street thug would not expect to find in a scrawny-looking kid. For better or worse, wherever his family had been stationed, he had more then enough time to pick up the basics of the local language and by the time they stopped moving from place to place he had accumulated more then enough knowledge of languages, so when the time had come to choose his future career, interpreter was the choice he was the most comfortable with. Attaching himself to the military was his way of trying to lead the more exciting life. Sitting and rustling with papers in some sad and grey notary office sounded like a death sentence.

However, life works in mysterious ways, say some and so, instead of enjoying easy life of being stationed somewhere in the nice warm tropics, he was now making his way through the cold and drizzly Boston evening, searching for the pier number '17', where the contact would be waiting for him with the keys to the research vessel and further instructions on the matter.

You would think dock 17 would be close by but he had to wander around the pier for about half an hour, squinting at the small number plates that were partly obstructed by the snowflakes the size of an overfed seagull. Couple of times he thought he had found it but at the closer examination it turned out something else with the number '7' that had conveniently been poking out from the snow and teasing him mercilessly. As he angrily kicked a small pole with number '37' on it all of a sudden he had heard a voice that was probably calling him, as there was no-one else around.

"Hey you! What's your business here?"

The voice was coming from one of the ships stationed at this pier. Well, it was a wild guess. It was getting really dark and blizzard was getting stronger so anything that was beyond meter and a half of visibility looked like a black mass. Or a pile of elephants if the black mass was boring and unsatisfactory to your imagination. He came closer and cupped the hands in front of his mouth.

"I am looking for pier '17' and been at it since forever."

He heard laughter at the deck of the ship.

"Then you aren't very bright, are you? You do know that piers extend in the sea and the numbers go accordingly?"

Yes, he knew, but he had so much on his mind that he had forgotten. This was embarrassing but he had no time to stand and blush like a little five-year old.

"Well… thanks anyway." He muttered under his breath and gave a vague wave, not really caring if they acknowledge or even hear him. The rest of the search went much smoother and after a quick sprint up and down a couple of rows he had finally found the pier he was looking for. Compared to the previous enormous mass, this one was much more compact which implied it was a small vessel meant to accommodate probably two people with relative comfort. He knocked on the hull with several pauses in between just like he was asked to.

"Password."

"Some Latin bullshit only they care about."

"They've told me that would be your answer."

This was followed by a nervous chuckle and next moment the gangplank had dropped on the pier. It was bliss to finally step away from the wind in a safer and a bit warmer environment. The lights in a small cabin went on and he could finally look around. This was an expensive ship. It looked expensive, it even smelled expensive. The wooden panels adorning the walls were definitely oak. Maroon colored velvet seats… Why would someone put so much money into the research vessel that most likely then not end up just like the rest of them?

"Her name is Solis Regina, by the way."

He snapped out of his thoughts and looked at the guy that was standing behind him and blocking the doorway. A short mousey man with watery blue eyes deep in their sockets. He almost looked comic with his enormous ears and grey-blond hair.

"Solis Regina? A fitting name, I guess." He paused for a second. "I assume I have to introduce myself." He outstretched his arm towards the scrawny guy. "Kurtis Trent."

The guy shook his hand very carefully as if it was made out of glass; his squeeze was very light and disgusting somehow. Kurtis had immediately decided he will not be shaking his hand ever again.

"Cole Harper, I'll be giving you basic instructions about your future, shall we say, trip."

Kurtis dropped down on one of the velvet seats, it was a welcoming feel after running like a headless chicken around the cold docks. Something in Cole's voice told him the instructions would be, indeed, very basic. Then again, he had most of the information he needed to go on this trip but no means to actually bring his plan to life. That is why he needed their resources and the organization was very happy to provide them.

"I was told you have been staying up to date with what our organization is up to these days and that you were the one to contact us."

A curt nod was the confirmation of that statement followed by popping out a cigarette and opening one of the portholes to let the smoke out. Harper did not even twitch.

"There were no questions asked as we were aware of your heritage and your overall level of skill, thus I will not question them either. I will keep our interaction to the minimum so I do waste neither yours, nor my time."

Harper carefully pulled the cushion of one of the seats up, revealing a small metal box within. He handed it to Kurtis and immediately crossed his hands behind his back. It looked as if he felt almost uncomfortable having his hands free and about.

"Here you will find the necessary maps and charts to get you to your destination and additional notes of the most 'recent' reports about the matter. A list of frequencies you can use to contact us. Within the ship you will find all the equipment that you will or might need for your journey… Do you have any further questions?"

Kurtis pondered for a bit, gazing into the dark horizon and slowly blew the smoke out from his nose. The cigarette was smoked down to the filter and so he tossed it out of the porthole. Mother Nature had punished him enough today; this will hardly make the matters worse.

"When do they want me to start?"

"As soon as possible."

Kurtis stood up and was now towering over poor Cole, who felt really intimidated but did his best not to show it. He was, alas, unsuccessful and kept shifting uncomfortably, his scared gaze jumping all over the place. A member of secret organization or not, he was probably not the most popular kid at school. Or at college. Or anywhere, really. Kurtis pet Harper softly on the shoulder, at which point the poor man looked like his knees would give up on him.

"Well, buddy, go home. I'll take it from here."

He did not have to ask twice, Cole Harper cleared the premises in a matter of seconds. In fact he may have decided to put his coat outside, just so he could be away from Kurtis and his intimidating nature. Whatever the leaders of the organization told him about Kurtis and his family heritage must have been very impressive to create such an impact. But impact or not, no heritage would make him go outside in that blizzard. Solis Regina had bed and heating and he had decided to spend the night here. Starting to get used to this sort of life again was not a bad idea either. Apartments and soft beds are a bad influence for the free spirit, that's what his father always used to say. Kurtis brushed fingers through his hair thoughtfully, and absentmindedly glanced at the box that he put besides him during the conversation with Harper. He carefully took one of the charts out and unfolded it. A somewhat old plan with probable, but not necessarily tested, safe passageway to his destination.

"Well, Yamatai, let us finally see what are you all about."