****Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I love your support and your
comments. They mean so much to me. Really. *snifles* I"d like to thank
all the little people I stepped on to get here. ^_^ j/k. Thanks you,
Cadnobach, Kiddo, Teresa, ThE InSaNe OnE, and Sara, and anyone else who
reviews after I've posted this chapter.****
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Walk on the Ocean: Part 3.
Our Separate Ways
***The next morning...***
The streamlined body of the SeaQuest DSV glided through the waters of the Mediterranean Sea like wind over silk. With the constant buzz of the WSKRs hovering around the ship, it seemed more like a protected giant than a submarine, free to roam, comfortable nothing would challenge its authority as king of the waters. It was a nice allusion to maintain for the UEO crew, albeit a false one. They knew all too well where they could and could not tread. The politics behind the moves of the SeaQuest were stiflingly clear: No gnashing of teeth at the foreign big fish.
The whole ship buzzed with the excitement that comes from anticipation of shore leave. All around, the crew seemed cheerier, giving buoyant hellos and laughing at jokes that otherwise would have seemed inane and been met with a chorus of unamused groans. It was as if someone had infused the ventilation system with a good dose of happy gas.
Nathan Bridger stepped onto the bridge, instantly greeted by the normal hum of the crew going through their daily routines. Officer Chen had the boat steady on course, Commander Ford stood behind Lt. Katie Hitchcock listening to her report of latest restrictions placed on the use of the VR probe near Alexandria, and Lt. Tim O'Neill was expertly monitoring communication traffic. All was running smoothly without any glitches--the perfect order the flagship of the UEO demanded.
"What's our ETA, commander?" Nathan announced.
The commander straightened. "One hour, sir."
"Excellent.."
"Sir," Ford began, "I was under the impression we were docking at the Canary Islands."
"Initially, yes, we were, but seeing as two of our crew are attending the International Archeological Society's annual convention, I saw it an excellent opportunity for some exotic leave. I've disgusted the matter with Admiral Noyce, and he couldn't agree more."
Tim grinned out of sight from behind his station as he listened to communications reports from the surface.
"I see, sir," Ford clasped his hands behind his back. "Aren't you even a little worried?" he said lightly.
"Concerning?"
"Your last encounter with an Egyptian delegate involved the smashing of a priceless artifact in front of a western world nations meeting."
Nathan nodded at the casually placed point. "Ah, yes. The lost library of Alexandria." He gave his ex-o an amused grin. "Good thinking, Commander. I'll bring a security detail."
Ford returned the grin, yet maintaining an air of seriousness. "I suggest Chief Crocker, sir. And if you don't mind company..."
"I'd be happy to include you, commander," Nathan nodded. "Dress the occasion."
"Will do, sir."
Nathan moved to the captain's chair and settled into the plush fabric, thinking of the Archeological Society's future reaction to his presence. He just hoped the Egyptian government had forgiven him and finally buried the hatchet.
* * * *
The shuttles were due to depart in 20 minutes, and already the docking bays were beginning to fill with people waiting for their rides to four days of freedom. The closer the countdown came to zero, the heavier the filtering of traffic into the bay became.
Ben Krieg came sauntering through the door in a pair or Raybands set above a wide toothed grin. A pack was slung loosely over his shoulder, adding a stark plainness to the wild pattern of his short-sleeved Hawaiian shirt left deliberately open to show a white SEAQUEST tank top, a pair of Bermuda shorts, and sandals. Keeping the grin, he walked up to the ensign with the charter manifest standing vigilantly near the access port. "Yo, Simon. What's new? My name should be down toward the bottom there," he pointed.
The ensign grinned. "Sure, Lt. Right below 'Kinkade.'"
"Sam's on the same shuttle, eh?" Ben rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Is she here yet?"
"Yup. Came in a few minutes ago. She wasn't that talkative."
Ben clapped him on the shoulder and grinned. "Much obliged, Simon." With a quick appreciative pat on the younger man's shoulder, Ben turned and climbed down the ladder into the shuttle. He meandered through the passengers already seated and involved in conversations to the back of the mini-sub where the figure of a girl in an off-white Dolphins belly tank with blue type, baggy khaki pants, and brown hiking sandals sat. Loose brown hair fell across green eyes that were intently studying over a book. Two wires leading down to a minidisk player trailed from her ears to the device sitting next to her on the seat.
Ben stopped and waited a moment to be recognized. When she failed to notice, he cleared his throat loudly. "Into Thin Air, eh? Good book. I remember reading about that disaster on Mt. Everest. Mind if I sit down?"
Samantha looked up. "Oh, hi, Lt. Nah, I don't mind," she tugged the earbuds out of her ears and moved the minidisk player aside.
"So, where's your buddy?" Ben stuffed his duffel bag in the overhead compartment.
"He's packing."
Ben made himself comfortable and stretched out as if he owned the couch. Someone across the launch made a crack at his smelly feet, and his comeback was just as quick. "It's a science experiment to see how long it takes for fungus to grow under my toenails."
"That's disgusting," Science officer Taylor Nicols wrinked her nose from opposite side of the launch.
Ben grinned, a smile that didn't quite reach ear to ear, but enough to show white teeth. He turned to Samantha "Did you bring your guitar?" Ben asked, trying at small talk.
"Yup. It's in the cargo compartment."
"Four days of freedom. Nothing better for moral. So, Do you two have plans?"
Samantha sighed at the interruption from her book. "No, we don't have plans. I. am going to see my dad in the desert, and Lucas is going to stay beneath the surface on the other side of the world with his."
Ben held up a hand in defense of his question, keeping an innocent pose. "Hey, I didn't mean anything by it. You two just seemed inseparable this past week."
"Yea?" Samantha narrowed her green eyes slightly in irritation and marked the book. Why couldn't people just leave her alone? "Well maybe I needed to get away from him for a while. You can understand that, right?" Standing and gathering her things, she abruptly left Ben alone by the cockpit seats and moved between two other crew members already seated and engaged in conversations diagonally across from Ben. Nodding a greeting to them, she put the earbuds back in her ears, turned the volume up to cover the launch chatter, and flipped the book open.
Ben blinked, not entirely seeing her reason. He couldn't pin down her irritation or anger, and it didn't make sense to him in the least. After all, it was a simple question, but apparently one worth being shunned over.
* * * *
Elsewhere on the ship, Lucas had made it his personal crusade to fill a duffel bag with as much stuff as possible for the third time in less than a month, only this time he was alone. He would pack alone, leave alone, spend the next four days alone, and leave alone even if he was with his father under the waters of western Australia. After all, he had his laptop and an internex satellite uplink. He could at least keep in touch with his friends.
He thought of Julianna for a moment as he packed, carelessly shoving cloths into his black duffel bag. They'd spoken twice since he returned from Chatton, and on both accounts she'd asked him what was wrong even when he thought he was being careful in his body language. That was a problem with vid phones. He almost wished the old fashioned, olive green rotary phone tucked up on a shelf with his 20th century memorabilia was operable, but for that it needed a ground line and a phone jack, and he was no where near either.
He gave the contents of the bag one last hard shove and pulled on the zipper tab. The zipper groaned in protest. He tugged, pulled, yanked, put a foot on the books inside and tried to force it, but only succeeded in a half way closure.
"Maybe Sam was right about packing," he panted, though now determined. With one last great pull and a grunt, the zipper finally gave up the good fight and relented to the power of human persistence.
"Ha!" Lucas tossed the bag over his shoulder in victory and strutted out the door. "Who says I can't pack?"
Bristling with self pride, the young genius put a bounce in his step as he crossed the ship to the maglev, taking it the short distance to the docking bay.
* * * *
They were lucky the weather in Alexandria, Egypt was cooperating for the time being. The shuttles docked one by one, unloading their excited passengers into the beautiful late winter warmth of the coastal city--the former capitol of Egypt. Some went immediately to their travel bags for sunblock, almost as if it was their last chance of survival, but others like Miguel Ortize and Katie Hitchcock simply passed them by.
"Ah, I love the sun, don't you, Lt.?" Katie breathed in the sweet salt flavor of the air, relishing in the warmth of the sun that some tried to block. She loved it. The sunshine had always made her feel relaxed and free, and to block it would erase the entire meaning of shore leave. She could burn to a crisp and be as red as a lobster for all she cared.
Miguel nodded and stretched his arms above him. "Four days of nothing but fun, sun, and Mediterranean women."
Katie shook her head. "Personally, I'm taking this time to relax. This whole business with the ships repairs has had my neck in knots all week," she massaged the back of her neck briefly.
"At least now you can hand over your wrench to someone else."
"They can keep it," Katie snorted.
The light-hearted whistling of a content Benjamin Kreig breezed past them as the moral officer smiled broadly. "Hey, Migs. Katie."
"Ben," Katie greeted. "Off to scout the night clubs?" she raised an eyebrow at the loud, horribly clashing get-up he'd chosen to display.
"Gotta get an early start. You never know what treasures await," he mock bowed in a backward walk, then spun on his heal and continued his quest to the center of Alexandria.
"I've heard of making an impression on another culture, but that's just insane."
"No, that's just Ben," Commander Ford quipped as he passed by. The captain and Chief Crocker were talking to a UEO official out of earshot. By the hand gestures, it was a friendly conversation. Soon, Dr. Kristin Westphalen joined them.
Miguel chuckled, but soon found his eyes following the shift of a bronzed body under the cloth of a short, patterned fringe dress across the street. "I think I'll start my impression on culture as soon as possible, Lt. Ya know, get as much education as possible."
Katie followed his gaze and hmphed loudly. "Men." She sighed. "And on that happy note, have fun Lt." The hotel shuttle for UEO crew caught her sight and she left Miguel to his business of clearing up cross-cultural differences.
Samantha blinked up at the sun as she stepped off the launch, instantly flinching at the stark contrast of the shuttle's controlled environment to the heat of Alexandria's sun--like stepping into the fire of Ra. For a long moment she just stood there, taking in the port, the people, the architecture, the air--completely lost in her own mind. Her breath caught in her throat as a flood of memories whisked too fast before her eyes.
She was back. After all these years, she was finally back.
All other sound had dulled to a low rumble in the reminiscence, so she missed the first time Lucas tried to get her attention. "Hm? What?"
"You zoned."
"Sorry."
"Is your dad here?"
"No, I don't see him yet."
Lucas ran a hand through his blond hair, which swayed lightly in the sea breeze. "So, I guess this is it."
"Yea, guess so," she turned her head to face him.
The departing crew bustled around them in their moment of silence, calling for their luggage, asking locals for direction, getting hotel arrangements taken care of, but all that poured around the two teenagers as if it were air around an invisible bubble.
"Good luck with your dad," Samantha extended her hand.
Lucas took it. "You, too. I'll call you."
"Me, too."
"I got a new uplink installed..."
"...on the laptop that gets..."
"...the Internex..."
"...anywhere."
Half of that was said in near synchronization that would have done Radar O'Reily proud. Lucas laughed lightly and ran a hand through his hair again. "Won't miss that."
Samantha pushed hair behind her ear. By the amount of times he'd done that, she knew it was his way of hiding uneasiness, or any other uncomfortable emotion. Unfortunately, it was a habit she had slightly adopted.
"Well, Bye. You take care of yourself, Sam."
Samantha smiled. "Bye, Lucas. You, too. I'll see you in four days."
The two embraced for a moment, then Lucas pulled back and adjusted the strap of his duffel bag. Throwing her a half grin, he turned around and let the seaside air take his place.
She watched him go for a moment, caught by the movement of his cloths and the effortless way he shrugged off the gray flannel even with a bag over his shoulder. She remembered that move. She remembered everything. The stolen time allowed a stray thought to wander to the front of her mind.
Was she actually going to miss him? Even with sharing each other's annoying habits and presence for two weeks, 24/7, was she genuinely going to miss having him around? She blinked, surprised at the thought, and picked up the duffel she'd dropped. "No way," she said to herself, as if the words would dissipate the thought into wisps of steam.
"Hey, Half pint!" a new voice yelled.
Samantha's head snapped up at the nick name rarely used, drawing her entire body around to the source.
A tall man in tan cargo pants, and a green camping vest waved to her from across the street. He wore a white T-shirt with a fading print of a cartouche hammered cockeyed into a black line, beneath which was a translation in bold comic sans MS font: "Keep Off the Sand. A.S. Convention, 2010." His worn leather hiking boots were tightly strapped over the hem of his pants, but his shirt remained untucked. Strands of dark hair fell just to the top of his glasses frames behind which green eyes squinted in the glare of the sun. His other hand cupped over them for a shield.
Samantha waved back to him and jogged over to where he was standing between a couple cargo crates for a local fishing trawler.
The man smiled and drew her into a hug. The top of her head only came to his chin. "How was your trip?"
"It was fine. Living on a sub is pretty cool." Samantha pulled away and adjusted her small shirt, thinking pants in this heat was a bad idea. She should know better.
"So, was that your boyfriend?" the man asked, flashing a grin beneath the thin rimmed spectacles.
Samantha narrowed her eyes and socked him in the arm. "No," she glanced back at a far away Lucas, realizing the man she stood beside was ignorant to their adventure, "just a good friend."
"Hey, Sam. The hotel shuttle is about to leave. Are you coming, or what?" Tim grumped, struggling with four black bags that threatened to burst at the seems.
Samantha ran a hand through her hair. "Tim, I'd like you to meet my father, Shawn Kinkade."
**more to come in the future. Don't loose hope! R&R please. :o) **
Walk on the Ocean: Part 3.
Our Separate Ways
***The next morning...***
The streamlined body of the SeaQuest DSV glided through the waters of the Mediterranean Sea like wind over silk. With the constant buzz of the WSKRs hovering around the ship, it seemed more like a protected giant than a submarine, free to roam, comfortable nothing would challenge its authority as king of the waters. It was a nice allusion to maintain for the UEO crew, albeit a false one. They knew all too well where they could and could not tread. The politics behind the moves of the SeaQuest were stiflingly clear: No gnashing of teeth at the foreign big fish.
The whole ship buzzed with the excitement that comes from anticipation of shore leave. All around, the crew seemed cheerier, giving buoyant hellos and laughing at jokes that otherwise would have seemed inane and been met with a chorus of unamused groans. It was as if someone had infused the ventilation system with a good dose of happy gas.
Nathan Bridger stepped onto the bridge, instantly greeted by the normal hum of the crew going through their daily routines. Officer Chen had the boat steady on course, Commander Ford stood behind Lt. Katie Hitchcock listening to her report of latest restrictions placed on the use of the VR probe near Alexandria, and Lt. Tim O'Neill was expertly monitoring communication traffic. All was running smoothly without any glitches--the perfect order the flagship of the UEO demanded.
"What's our ETA, commander?" Nathan announced.
The commander straightened. "One hour, sir."
"Excellent.."
"Sir," Ford began, "I was under the impression we were docking at the Canary Islands."
"Initially, yes, we were, but seeing as two of our crew are attending the International Archeological Society's annual convention, I saw it an excellent opportunity for some exotic leave. I've disgusted the matter with Admiral Noyce, and he couldn't agree more."
Tim grinned out of sight from behind his station as he listened to communications reports from the surface.
"I see, sir," Ford clasped his hands behind his back. "Aren't you even a little worried?" he said lightly.
"Concerning?"
"Your last encounter with an Egyptian delegate involved the smashing of a priceless artifact in front of a western world nations meeting."
Nathan nodded at the casually placed point. "Ah, yes. The lost library of Alexandria." He gave his ex-o an amused grin. "Good thinking, Commander. I'll bring a security detail."
Ford returned the grin, yet maintaining an air of seriousness. "I suggest Chief Crocker, sir. And if you don't mind company..."
"I'd be happy to include you, commander," Nathan nodded. "Dress the occasion."
"Will do, sir."
Nathan moved to the captain's chair and settled into the plush fabric, thinking of the Archeological Society's future reaction to his presence. He just hoped the Egyptian government had forgiven him and finally buried the hatchet.
* * * *
The shuttles were due to depart in 20 minutes, and already the docking bays were beginning to fill with people waiting for their rides to four days of freedom. The closer the countdown came to zero, the heavier the filtering of traffic into the bay became.
Ben Krieg came sauntering through the door in a pair or Raybands set above a wide toothed grin. A pack was slung loosely over his shoulder, adding a stark plainness to the wild pattern of his short-sleeved Hawaiian shirt left deliberately open to show a white SEAQUEST tank top, a pair of Bermuda shorts, and sandals. Keeping the grin, he walked up to the ensign with the charter manifest standing vigilantly near the access port. "Yo, Simon. What's new? My name should be down toward the bottom there," he pointed.
The ensign grinned. "Sure, Lt. Right below 'Kinkade.'"
"Sam's on the same shuttle, eh?" Ben rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Is she here yet?"
"Yup. Came in a few minutes ago. She wasn't that talkative."
Ben clapped him on the shoulder and grinned. "Much obliged, Simon." With a quick appreciative pat on the younger man's shoulder, Ben turned and climbed down the ladder into the shuttle. He meandered through the passengers already seated and involved in conversations to the back of the mini-sub where the figure of a girl in an off-white Dolphins belly tank with blue type, baggy khaki pants, and brown hiking sandals sat. Loose brown hair fell across green eyes that were intently studying over a book. Two wires leading down to a minidisk player trailed from her ears to the device sitting next to her on the seat.
Ben stopped and waited a moment to be recognized. When she failed to notice, he cleared his throat loudly. "Into Thin Air, eh? Good book. I remember reading about that disaster on Mt. Everest. Mind if I sit down?"
Samantha looked up. "Oh, hi, Lt. Nah, I don't mind," she tugged the earbuds out of her ears and moved the minidisk player aside.
"So, where's your buddy?" Ben stuffed his duffel bag in the overhead compartment.
"He's packing."
Ben made himself comfortable and stretched out as if he owned the couch. Someone across the launch made a crack at his smelly feet, and his comeback was just as quick. "It's a science experiment to see how long it takes for fungus to grow under my toenails."
"That's disgusting," Science officer Taylor Nicols wrinked her nose from opposite side of the launch.
Ben grinned, a smile that didn't quite reach ear to ear, but enough to show white teeth. He turned to Samantha "Did you bring your guitar?" Ben asked, trying at small talk.
"Yup. It's in the cargo compartment."
"Four days of freedom. Nothing better for moral. So, Do you two have plans?"
Samantha sighed at the interruption from her book. "No, we don't have plans. I. am going to see my dad in the desert, and Lucas is going to stay beneath the surface on the other side of the world with his."
Ben held up a hand in defense of his question, keeping an innocent pose. "Hey, I didn't mean anything by it. You two just seemed inseparable this past week."
"Yea?" Samantha narrowed her green eyes slightly in irritation and marked the book. Why couldn't people just leave her alone? "Well maybe I needed to get away from him for a while. You can understand that, right?" Standing and gathering her things, she abruptly left Ben alone by the cockpit seats and moved between two other crew members already seated and engaged in conversations diagonally across from Ben. Nodding a greeting to them, she put the earbuds back in her ears, turned the volume up to cover the launch chatter, and flipped the book open.
Ben blinked, not entirely seeing her reason. He couldn't pin down her irritation or anger, and it didn't make sense to him in the least. After all, it was a simple question, but apparently one worth being shunned over.
* * * *
Elsewhere on the ship, Lucas had made it his personal crusade to fill a duffel bag with as much stuff as possible for the third time in less than a month, only this time he was alone. He would pack alone, leave alone, spend the next four days alone, and leave alone even if he was with his father under the waters of western Australia. After all, he had his laptop and an internex satellite uplink. He could at least keep in touch with his friends.
He thought of Julianna for a moment as he packed, carelessly shoving cloths into his black duffel bag. They'd spoken twice since he returned from Chatton, and on both accounts she'd asked him what was wrong even when he thought he was being careful in his body language. That was a problem with vid phones. He almost wished the old fashioned, olive green rotary phone tucked up on a shelf with his 20th century memorabilia was operable, but for that it needed a ground line and a phone jack, and he was no where near either.
He gave the contents of the bag one last hard shove and pulled on the zipper tab. The zipper groaned in protest. He tugged, pulled, yanked, put a foot on the books inside and tried to force it, but only succeeded in a half way closure.
"Maybe Sam was right about packing," he panted, though now determined. With one last great pull and a grunt, the zipper finally gave up the good fight and relented to the power of human persistence.
"Ha!" Lucas tossed the bag over his shoulder in victory and strutted out the door. "Who says I can't pack?"
Bristling with self pride, the young genius put a bounce in his step as he crossed the ship to the maglev, taking it the short distance to the docking bay.
* * * *
They were lucky the weather in Alexandria, Egypt was cooperating for the time being. The shuttles docked one by one, unloading their excited passengers into the beautiful late winter warmth of the coastal city--the former capitol of Egypt. Some went immediately to their travel bags for sunblock, almost as if it was their last chance of survival, but others like Miguel Ortize and Katie Hitchcock simply passed them by.
"Ah, I love the sun, don't you, Lt.?" Katie breathed in the sweet salt flavor of the air, relishing in the warmth of the sun that some tried to block. She loved it. The sunshine had always made her feel relaxed and free, and to block it would erase the entire meaning of shore leave. She could burn to a crisp and be as red as a lobster for all she cared.
Miguel nodded and stretched his arms above him. "Four days of nothing but fun, sun, and Mediterranean women."
Katie shook her head. "Personally, I'm taking this time to relax. This whole business with the ships repairs has had my neck in knots all week," she massaged the back of her neck briefly.
"At least now you can hand over your wrench to someone else."
"They can keep it," Katie snorted.
The light-hearted whistling of a content Benjamin Kreig breezed past them as the moral officer smiled broadly. "Hey, Migs. Katie."
"Ben," Katie greeted. "Off to scout the night clubs?" she raised an eyebrow at the loud, horribly clashing get-up he'd chosen to display.
"Gotta get an early start. You never know what treasures await," he mock bowed in a backward walk, then spun on his heal and continued his quest to the center of Alexandria.
"I've heard of making an impression on another culture, but that's just insane."
"No, that's just Ben," Commander Ford quipped as he passed by. The captain and Chief Crocker were talking to a UEO official out of earshot. By the hand gestures, it was a friendly conversation. Soon, Dr. Kristin Westphalen joined them.
Miguel chuckled, but soon found his eyes following the shift of a bronzed body under the cloth of a short, patterned fringe dress across the street. "I think I'll start my impression on culture as soon as possible, Lt. Ya know, get as much education as possible."
Katie followed his gaze and hmphed loudly. "Men." She sighed. "And on that happy note, have fun Lt." The hotel shuttle for UEO crew caught her sight and she left Miguel to his business of clearing up cross-cultural differences.
Samantha blinked up at the sun as she stepped off the launch, instantly flinching at the stark contrast of the shuttle's controlled environment to the heat of Alexandria's sun--like stepping into the fire of Ra. For a long moment she just stood there, taking in the port, the people, the architecture, the air--completely lost in her own mind. Her breath caught in her throat as a flood of memories whisked too fast before her eyes.
She was back. After all these years, she was finally back.
All other sound had dulled to a low rumble in the reminiscence, so she missed the first time Lucas tried to get her attention. "Hm? What?"
"You zoned."
"Sorry."
"Is your dad here?"
"No, I don't see him yet."
Lucas ran a hand through his blond hair, which swayed lightly in the sea breeze. "So, I guess this is it."
"Yea, guess so," she turned her head to face him.
The departing crew bustled around them in their moment of silence, calling for their luggage, asking locals for direction, getting hotel arrangements taken care of, but all that poured around the two teenagers as if it were air around an invisible bubble.
"Good luck with your dad," Samantha extended her hand.
Lucas took it. "You, too. I'll call you."
"Me, too."
"I got a new uplink installed..."
"...on the laptop that gets..."
"...the Internex..."
"...anywhere."
Half of that was said in near synchronization that would have done Radar O'Reily proud. Lucas laughed lightly and ran a hand through his hair again. "Won't miss that."
Samantha pushed hair behind her ear. By the amount of times he'd done that, she knew it was his way of hiding uneasiness, or any other uncomfortable emotion. Unfortunately, it was a habit she had slightly adopted.
"Well, Bye. You take care of yourself, Sam."
Samantha smiled. "Bye, Lucas. You, too. I'll see you in four days."
The two embraced for a moment, then Lucas pulled back and adjusted the strap of his duffel bag. Throwing her a half grin, he turned around and let the seaside air take his place.
She watched him go for a moment, caught by the movement of his cloths and the effortless way he shrugged off the gray flannel even with a bag over his shoulder. She remembered that move. She remembered everything. The stolen time allowed a stray thought to wander to the front of her mind.
Was she actually going to miss him? Even with sharing each other's annoying habits and presence for two weeks, 24/7, was she genuinely going to miss having him around? She blinked, surprised at the thought, and picked up the duffel she'd dropped. "No way," she said to herself, as if the words would dissipate the thought into wisps of steam.
"Hey, Half pint!" a new voice yelled.
Samantha's head snapped up at the nick name rarely used, drawing her entire body around to the source.
A tall man in tan cargo pants, and a green camping vest waved to her from across the street. He wore a white T-shirt with a fading print of a cartouche hammered cockeyed into a black line, beneath which was a translation in bold comic sans MS font: "Keep Off the Sand. A.S. Convention, 2010." His worn leather hiking boots were tightly strapped over the hem of his pants, but his shirt remained untucked. Strands of dark hair fell just to the top of his glasses frames behind which green eyes squinted in the glare of the sun. His other hand cupped over them for a shield.
Samantha waved back to him and jogged over to where he was standing between a couple cargo crates for a local fishing trawler.
The man smiled and drew her into a hug. The top of her head only came to his chin. "How was your trip?"
"It was fine. Living on a sub is pretty cool." Samantha pulled away and adjusted her small shirt, thinking pants in this heat was a bad idea. She should know better.
"So, was that your boyfriend?" the man asked, flashing a grin beneath the thin rimmed spectacles.
Samantha narrowed her eyes and socked him in the arm. "No," she glanced back at a far away Lucas, realizing the man she stood beside was ignorant to their adventure, "just a good friend."
"Hey, Sam. The hotel shuttle is about to leave. Are you coming, or what?" Tim grumped, struggling with four black bags that threatened to burst at the seems.
Samantha ran a hand through her hair. "Tim, I'd like you to meet my father, Shawn Kinkade."
**more to come in the future. Don't loose hope! R&R please. :o) **