The Curran Sea

Going Shallow

"Sir, recommend raising Variable Depth Lab. Emmett may be improving too much for this depth to be therapeutic."
   Ibrahim's head lifted from the med bed, paper crinkling. "You think? We're at five Currans. You think four, or three? He is still, sort of, a Curran, so I don't want to go too shallow, too fast. Concur?"
   "Recommend four, to start. Slow ascent, monitoring vitals."
   "Of course. Confirm."
   They'd been struggling to stabilize him all day. It made sense, he thought, if the tiny body no longer required the higher pressures of the deeps, that his vitals would steady as they rose closer to his home.
   He even grew to hope that they could go to the surface, after all, when the babe did increasingly better, as they drew nearer.
   Those hopes were dashed within sight of the dock.
   "Pressure still required, sir. Apologies. The third day will, indeed, be necessary."
   His head dropped to the bed again, on a loud exhale. "It's fine. I'm supposed to 'sing my mother's line' tomorrow, anyway. Kind of hard to do from my bedroom, while dodging my children's prying eyes."
   "They care, sir. Is that so bad?"
   His teeth worked against each other. "You're not gonna mention Andrew's face again?"
   "If I had feelings, they would incline me to believe that Judah did an adequate job of communicating that."
   And then little Emmett flatlined, and he had to work the tiny heart back to life. He dropped the lab another notch, though it pained him to watch his home drift three more feet further from him. He pumped the fragile chest with one finger, blew air into his lungs with carefully measured breaths.
   It was the longest thirty seconds of his current body's life.
   "Better than Judah's fifty three seconds, or Ed's three minutes. Not so bad, eh, little guy?" He scooped the tiny babe back to his chest.
   "Perhaps positive thoughts would be best, Doctor Curran. He seems quite responsive to your emotions. I retract my comment from earlier."
   "I dislike censorship, but... you might be correct."
   "If you require thoughts of... positive things, the red-haired mermaid has not left the lab's orbit since your niece left. I am certain she would keep you company, in a pleasant manner."
   Ibrahim snorted. "Not any way that would help my nephew, good buddy. That's a carnal stare, if ever I saw one. You know he's gotta be in skin contact, as much as possible."
   "I gather it is unwise to state the probability that both goals could be achieved simul--"
   "No! Hal, I am not entertaining a woman, with my son in one arm! Even if he would suffer no trauma, I would be... unable to perform."
   "If you are certain that this is the case, shall I allow her entry?"
   His eyes closed, fighting for patience. "Hal... No. It was weird enough, seeing my niece naked. I'm just glad her hair covered... things."
   "Hair length is consistent--"
   "Haaaal!"
   "Shall I call one of your family, instead?"
   He sank into his office chair heavily. "If someone is free, by all means."
   Alfie was only too happy to talk with his father! He answered on the second ring--which was a soundless vibration of his gauntlet, in deference to any within earshot, who were not to know he was alive.
   "Hey Dad, how's it--oof."
   He looked down, subtly maneuvered Emmett to cover his wound. "Not why I called, bud. Just gettin' a little stir crazy, is all. I can see your room from here."
   Immediately, an arm flailed out the window, and he smiled. "Thanks. I needed that."
   Tears shimmered in his blue-rimmed black eyes. "Happy to help. So you're restless, but... okay?" Anxiety made his voice crack. Yellow and blue light limned his body.
   "As well as I am able."
   "How's my little brother doing?"
   He sighed heavily. "It is touch and go, but we have made it this far. I have hope."
   Alfie tried for a smile. "Then it's a good thing we, and I'm quoting, 'sent him to the most experienced dad on the isles'."
   A laugh vibrated the tiny chest, which sent his stats to good places. "Let me guess: Ed."
   Alfie managed a real grin. "Wrong!"
   "No! Was it you?" The infant bobbed on the massive, indented chest, and seemed all the better for it. "You didn't really say that, did you?"
   His son's grin widened. "It's true. Oh, and Judah's mods still work, by the way. Good thing, too, 'cause we don't know who sells formula in town." His eyes twinkled. "Never needed it."
   He aimed a finger at the screen threateningly. "If you moo, or call me Bessie..."
   Alfie laughed, flopped back onto his bed. "Naw, that was Ed! 'Sides, I can't even pretend to slap your ass from here."
   Pale blue eyes widened. "Language, Alfred!"
   He just laughed harder.
   When their laughter died down, Alfie looked at him, with his head tilted to match the tired slump of his father's body.
   "Your hair and beard have grown. That mean you've got nutrients to spare down there? We've been awfully worried."
   He snorted softly. "It's only an inch. I'll have it trimmed when I get topside."
   The head tilt went the other way. "I dunno, I kinda like it. Makes you look softer, like Judah. The grey is quite distinguished on you."
   Ibrahim growled, but Emmett did not rouse. "You keep that up, and I'll shave it all off the second I get up there."
   Alfie's smile vanished. "No, really, Dad. I like it. No joke. Honestly..." He looked around, nudged his door closed over the top of the bunkbed. "It's kinda weird, living with a bunch of guys who all look thirty, and I'm almost twenty. It makes you look more... human... Well, humanoid."
   The larger man tensed. "You have no idea how little human runs through our veins, my son..."