Chapter 6

A/N – I make no promises that I'm going to finish this story. Obviously it's been dead for five years, but I recently got re-inspired by both fanfiction and diving, so I've put together another chapter for you and I have several more planned out in my head.

Obviously given the 5+ JE books that have come out since I started, this really is kind of an AU / AR text. I couldn't even tell you which book it spins from, so apologies if there are spoilers.

Steph's alarm buzzed at 0930, waking both her and the two men. She groaned and sat up, "Fuck," she mumbled as she stretched out her arms and legs. "I hate this trip." The six hours out to the Andrea Doriawas hellish, it was always rough and it was only an ironclad gut and sheer force of will that saved her from seasickness each time.

"You alright, Bomber?" Lester asked.

"Sure," she said absently as she pulled some shoes on and grabbed a sweater and wind jacket. "I'm impressed that neither of you were seasick," she commented. "Most folks spend their first trip to the Doria revisiting their food for the week before."

Tank laughed, "Navy man, remember."

She rolled her eye at that, "come on, breakfast awaits," she motioned them out the door and then led them up the stairs to the galley where people were sitting around sipping on tea's and coffee's and munching. Steph knew that most of these people were there to keep the boat moving, rather than having much to do with the diving operations.

"I've gotta talk to Matt," she said, "can you grab me a couple slices of toast and a bottle of water?"

"Sure thing, bomber," Lester nodded.

"Thanks."

After collecting three breakfasts, Lester and Tank sat down at an empty table and watched while Steph worked her way around the room.

She spoke to Matt for a few minutes, who then introduced her to another man, presumably her support team. He was maybe 50 years of age with an enormous beer gut and no muscle tone. Tank mumbled, "he looks like he'll have a fucking heart attack just getting into the water!"

Lester chuckled, but didn't disagree. The man looked like angina waiting to happen.

Apparently whatever the man was saying was not pleasing Steph as they could see the tension in her stance. She said something curt, walked him over to a table with a laminated diagram and pointed to a few things. The other man nodded several times, asked a few questions and then left the galley.

Steph made her way to the two men waiting for her, picking up a slice of toast as she sat down.

"Everything settled?" Tank asked.

"As much as it's going to be," she nodded, "he's not my ideal backup for today, he's got no real experience inside wrecks so he could be more dangerous than helpful," she explained at their quizzical expression. "He's going to do the administrative stuff, so he'll dive first, tie us in to the wreck and then hopefully locate the point of entry that the two victims used, so that I don't have to waste time when I get in."

"Anything we can do?" Lester asked, knowing that they were well outside their training as divers but hoping that they'd be able to assist.

"Actually," Steph nodded, "I'll probably get you guys to help me gear up once Kris hits the water. Once I put the tanks on my back, I lose a lot of mobility and in the rolling swells we have now, a couple of strong hands to help stabilize and load me up will be very useful."

She took a long drink of her water, and then eyed them both up, "I'm going to go help him gear up," she said, "if you're coming on deck, I recommend a raincoat."

Both Tank and Lester were astounded that it took the other diver nearly forty minutes to put his suit on properly, load up the twin tanks on his back and then attach the three deco bottles to his side. They watched in amusement as he waddled down the boat, big vulcanized rubber fins on his feet, one hand on the rails and the other holding Steph's as she walked him through what she wanted him to do. When they reached the edge of the boat, she stepped away and he took one final step off the edge and into the water. A quick OK to the boat, and he descended down the anchor line.

"Thank god," Steph sighed, "what a time waster." She moved towards her own gear and started barking out instructions. Tank had a momentary flashback to his drill sergeant from his time in the armed forces. "Lester can you bring that yellow box over," she pointed to a small, water-sealed briefcase, "Tank, I need that green deco bottle, the yellow one and that silver one please."

As she instructed both men, she put her backplate, wing and harness onto two large tanks joined by a metal manifold. She screwed regulators into both valves and cracked open the tanks. She tested each regulator, breathed from every mouthpiece and poured water over the whole thing to check for leaks. She then turned to the bottles Tank had brought over and attached regulators to each of them, lining them up in a column. She called Matt over as she opened the yellow briefcase and pressed some buttons.

"15/55," She called out the readings from the screen inside the box to Matt after running the gas from her twin tanks through a hose connected to the briefcase, before moving onto the first, yellow, stage bottle, "52," she said, "98," she said for the green one, "21," she announced for the silver one.

"Thanks Steph," Matt said, handing her a clipboard, which she signed, "you need anything else?"

She shook her head, "I'm planning forty minutes at the bottom," she said, "with 80 minutes decompression. I won't come up the line, but I'll send up a bag."

"Total run time?" he asked, "120?"

"Give me 130 before you call in the cavalry," she said with a shrug, "I'll send the bag up at 50 minutes, after that you'll know where I am. If it's not up by 60, it's won't be."

He nodded and walked off.

Steph immediately started taking clothes off and passing them to Lester until she was standing there in thermal leggings and long-sleeves, she opened up a duffel bag and grabbed a fleece jumpsuit which she pulled on and zipped up, followed by thick woolen hiking socks, before she pulled out a big space suit that looked about ten times too big for her.

"What the fuck is that?" Lester asked in amazement.

"It's a drysuit," Steph said with a laugh, "this way I'll be dry and warm underwater, only my face and hands will be exposed."

"What happened to a good old fashioned wetsuit?" he asked.

"It's eight degrees in that water, Santos," she said rolling her eyes, "if you want to use a wetsuit and go for a swim, be my guest. This keeps me dry, it's actually right up your alley," she laughed, "it's made of a type of Kevlar!"

Both men laughed at that.

She pulled up the suit tightening the straps, checking the wrist seals carefully, before she pulled it over her head and checked her neck seal. With a practiced motion, she leaned her left arm over her right shoulder and found the zip tag, pulling it smoothly over her shoulder across her chest and around her waist. She pulled out a thick neoprene hood, which she pulled on, followed by fingerless neoprene gloves.

Finally she sat down and slipped her shoulders into the harness attached to her tanks. With quick, confident motions she buckled everything in, moved mouthpieces around, cracked open her valves and checked everything was working as it was meant to. She then looked at Tank, "alright Tank, can you pass me those tanks one by one, the green one last?"

Within fifteen minutes she was fully geared up, checked off and ready to go. She walked up to the edge of the boat where there was an empty bench, which she leaned up against to take the weight off her back. Unlike the other man, her fins were in her hand and she would put them on as soon as he surfaced.

He appeared a bare ten minutes later, clipped his various tanks off to a line that one of the crew dropped over, removed the gear from his back and attached that and finally began climbing up the ladder.

"All your stops done?" Matt asked as soon as he was clear.

Kris nodded, "all done, plus an extra five for conservatism." He made his way over to Steph.

"Did you find their line?" she asked.

"Yeah, I tied the anchor line about a foot to the left of it," he said, "I didn't realize how strong the current got down there!"

Steph shrugged, "Yeah, I guess. Go grab a hot drink," she said, "I'm due back in two hours," she told him, "we'll discuss retrieval after I locate them."

He nodded and disappeared down the hatch and into the galley after checking his gear was all safely stowed.

Moments later, Steph had pulled her fins on, double checked everything one last time and flashed a cheeky wink at Tank and Lester, "see you in a bit!" she said as she walked off the edge of the boat, dropping the five meters into the ocean and quickly disappearing into the fathomless depths.