Novo Cetus

Chapter 13

Hunkered down in a small, state-of-the-art research facility located on the lower decks of the ship, Melinda Davenport reviewed her latest findings on secondary aerosol gas to particle conversion in frigid temperatures. This ten-by-ten space had been her refuge for the past several months. Her previous two assignments had been huge collaborative projects. This independent assignment restored her individuality and renewed her commitment to creativity and innovation. It had been a particularly satisfying assignment. She thought it ingenious to add an authoritative "Do Not Disturb" warning on the title page to her electronic link to this project. No such directive existed in any military manual, but for some reason it worked for her. Without constant interruptions regarding timelines, budgets and other tedious tasks, she concentrated specifically on this cold climate mechanics project. Ahead of schedule, she looked forward to a holiday in the Netherlands.

A knock on the door interrupted her contentment. Smug too soon, she thought and arranged her face into an angry scowl. This should scare anyone away.

She opened the door. "What is it," she barked. The young seaman at the door was unimpressed with her irritated demeanor. Hmm, this is new. Usually, the crew was apologetic when they had to disturb her.

"Morning, Doc. There is a Lieutenant Brasco on the horn for you." The seaman waited for her response.

The "Do Not Disturb" would not fool Brasco, she thought. She remembered him to be the no-nonsense type, but also friendly. He worked special security or something on a previous and particularly disastrous military project. It had been her first big assignment and everyone involved had been close; such exciting research ended in an unexpected catastrophic incident. The feds closed that project and kicked the team to the curb quickly. She'd scrambled to find something else before word got out the project tanked.

She wondered what could he possibly want with her?

"Is he still on the horn? Waiting?" she asked.

"You know, Doc, when you don't screw your face up all mad-like, you're not half bad to look at," remarked the sailor. "And, yeah, he said he'd wait."

"Sailor, you been out to sea too long," Melinda remarked as she slipped on her boots and grabbed a coat. Before putting it on, she asked, "Do I need to go topside?"

"Yes, ma'am. You better grab a hat, too. It's blowing a gale up there."

Melinda reached the communication center quickly. She'd wanted to take her time, but the freezing temperatures and whipping winds caused her to forget to dawdle. She signaled the sailor at the radio to hold on a few minutes longer. Melinda evened out her breathing and took the mic. "Hello, John, does this need to be a secure conversation?"

"I've secured the line at this end. You'll need to secure your end," Brasco replied. He chuckled to himself; not many people called him John anymore and Melinda knew it.

She showed the cabin crew her federal ID badge. "OK boys, get out. I need to secure this room." The crew was somewhat surprised that their cranky "research girl" was also a federal agent. However, in this crew's experience, strange things can happen out at sea, and her being an agent wasn't the strangest.

"All clear," she said, and Brasco updated her on key events of the past several days. Melinda couldn't believe it – they were reinstating Project Nano.

"John, John," she interrupted. "Stop. My head is about to explode. I need to process this. What can you send to me ASAP? I can't listen to much more." Melinda sat down on the floor of the cabin. Nano modified whales and crabs? She felt faint. She'd heard if you felt faint, you should put your head between your legs. She was limber, but that remedy seemed near impossible in a down parka. She took several deep breaths.

"Melinda, are you still there?" asked Brasco. He heard her taking great gulps of air. "Christ, slow down; don't you know about relaxation breathing! I took you for a yoga girl."

"I'm 'research girl' here, and yes I know how to do relaxation breathing," she said. "But up here in the Arctic the oxygen is very thick. If you don't gulp it in, it takes forever to reach your brain."

She took a few long draws of breath through her nose.

"Can you set up a secure link to my computer and send me all you have on this project. I don't want to be days behind when I arrive."

I've got to think forward, Melinda thought.

"And when can you get me? You do realize that I'm in the middle of nowhere in mid-winter darkness; oh yeah, and we're in the middle of a snowstorm."

"I'll keep track of the weather," he said. "Winter darkness? Is that the opposite of midnight sun?" Brasco asked. "Anyway as soon as it's safe, I'll send a chopper for y–."

"You need to get a Cetacean specialist," Melinda interrupted.

"A what? Hank told me to get a marine biologist?" Leave it to Davenport to say something unpredictable.

"Hank and I are assembling a team." He ignored her request. "Are you sure you're secure out there?" Brasco needed to be certain there were no security risks. This project was too important.

"As I said before, I'm in the middle of nowhere in a never-ending snowstorm. This vessel is used exclusively for research, so there are security measures on top of security measures," Melinda explained. "Hey, John, don't you know, science is worth big money these days?" she quipped.

"So I understand," Brasco replied and disconnected communication. He looked at his notes; he circled and underlined "Cetacean Specialist." Where would he find one of those?

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