Ocean Deep

Chapter One: Burn Notice

Michael plastered on a smile as he walked up to the desk of the local Aquatica and paid the entry fee.

The smile lasted only long enough to get him out of the main hall.

Lucy hadn't seemed concerned when she'd given him the address, and Michael had refrained from asking too many questions. If Sam was working the occasional job for her, it meant he was able to come and go as he pleased.

But Mers were still considered a point of fascination fifty years after peace treaties and trading had opened up, forty-six years ago, they allowed them into aquatic professions, but that had started with the US military placing them to work with their marine mammals. Since then, Mer contributions to the scientific field and technological advancements have earned them an amount of respect but, despite laws against harassment and discrimination based on species, they were still considered less than humans. Animals that belong behind glass walls and not working alongside humanity.

It was slowly getting better, but the fact that exhibits like this still existed showed they had a long way to go towards equal rights.

Michael's musings came to an end as he neared his destination. It was nearly empty, save for a small family near the glass--a mother and child. Sam was near the floor of the tank, his hand pressed against the glass where the little girl's was on the other side. His mouth was moving, but the sound didn't travel far enough for Michael to hear him.

His head turned slightly, and he met Michael's eyes. He said something else, before moving back and upwards in the water to waving enthusiastically with both hands and tail, a deep blue interwoven with a black pattern. Michael smiled at the sight. The little girl giggled before her mother took her hand to lead her to another area of the aquarium.

"Hey, Mikey." Sam's voice carried easily through the glass as Michael walked closer.

"Sam, you look... good." He'd seen more Mers rescued from private collections than he preferred to think about, many were kept underfed in order to weaken them. Sam didn't appear to be having any problems getting food. "I assume you got word on my situation?"

"Yeah, Lucy called, said you'd be dropping by. Good news for you. I'm a washout and a Mer, so I can talk to whoever I want, burned or no."

"You hear anything else?"

Sam glanced around the empty observation area. "Mikey, nobody tells me anything. I'm not exactly security clearance material anymore." He'd barely made the cut for that even before his discharge and all the controversy that had surrounded it. "Look, give me a minute to get out, alright?"

Some tension loosened at the confirmation that Sam was allowed to leave the tank at his leisure. "Sure, Sam."

"Meet me around back."

Around back was a set of stairs with a door at the top, Michael went up them, slowly. He'd watched Sam leave the water on numerous occasions, it didn't get any less unnerving.

In mythology, some tales claimed that Merfolks could live on land by shedding their tail and hiding it. This was not completely inaccurate. Merfolk could live out of water, if they remained internally hydrated, and they could shed their tails, but it was caudal autotomy. A complete detachment of the tail, starting from roughly four to five inches down from where the scales began. When in water, the tail regeneration would begin and a new tail would be formed within a day, generally with the same color but a different pattern of scales.

By the time Michael reached the upper level, Sam was sitting on a chair, fighting to pull a pair of pants up over his Navy issued prosthetics, detached tail nowhere in sight.

With political movements to allow Mers to advance from only sea and water based military jobs, or tasks that could be completed from a wheelchair on land, multiple grants were approved for research into specially designed prosthetics in the late 80s. It not only led to Mers no longer being confined to wheelchairs on land, but also more sophisticated prosthetics for humans. It was rumored that the idea of the latter coming out of it was what had swayed the government into approving the research.

Sam stood, his first few steps unsteady as he adjusted to his 'land legs,' but he reached Michael quickly, a smile on his face. He clapped him on the shoulder, hand--and upper body--still wet. "You're buying the drinks?"

"Put a shirt on first."

Sam glanced down at his bare chest before turning and going back to his little on land setup to grab a Hawaiian shirt featuring a similar pattern to his tail. He popped the collar, allowing it to almost cover up the gills on his lower neck. Combined with the ever present gold chain to distract from them and that the gills stayed mostly still while out of the water, Sam was reasonably passable as human.

Except... Michael tilted his head. "Shoes, Sam."

Sam sighed but put on his shoes. "You humans, all so obsessed with clothing. Back home, we--"

"Sam."

"Comin', Mike."

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼

"How are they treating you, Sam?" Michael hadn't wanted to ask while they were on the park's grounds, but Sam had brought him to a little place called Carlito's, and it felt safe it talk about it here.

"Don't knock it. I know it didn't look like much, but I got an Olympic sized tank, a paycheck to supplement my pension, and an endless supply of fish." He grinned. "And you should see Ronnie."

"Ronnie?"

"Veronica. She's gorgeous, Mikey. She's got her own tank in a different part of the building, but her mate died five years back so she lets me come and, uh, keep her company." Then his voice lowered and softened, "It's safe."

He nodded. "Speaking of safe places, you know anywhere I can stay?"

"I might know a guy."