(1)

Bri leaned up against the chrome wall, gasping for breath. She dropped both hands to her knees and dipped forward, sweat streaming down her face. Impatiently, she wiped away the perspiration with the back of her hand. After a moment, Bri straightened and reached for her back pocket. There was stored her inhaler, on which Bri depended every day. She set the spout in her mouth, pressed the tab, and titled back her head to receive the medication.

"You okay there, Bri?" Lieutenant Brian Wilson laid a hand on her shoulder in a fatherly way. Bri glanced up into the middle-aged man's blue eyes, nodding slowly, chest still heaving. Wilson shook his and led her over to metal folding chair where Bri collapsed as her inhaler returned to her back pocket.

"Were you studying those military training manuals again? I told you before, those are unauthorized files." Wilson shook his head as he attempted with difficulty to keep the amused grin off his weathered face. "Besides, you'll go into respiratory arrest if you overexert yourself."

Bri rolled her eyes. "Trust me, Lieutenant, I know more about my condition than anyone of this ship. You've lived with it for two years, I've lived with it for thirteen years before that."

"You are avoiding the question, Bri."

"I took a quick glance, yeah. So what? I've gotten into worse hacking inconveniences," Bri retorted, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest. "Remember that updating code? If they had traced me –"

"Shhh," Wilson hissed urgently. "What did I tell you about 'classified information?'"

Bri grinned and stood up. "Yes, sir. The personal information that passes between a military officer and a civilian aboard his or her ship is to remain between the sender and the receiver by penalty of, uh, mutiny," Bri recited loudly just as Doctor Sarah Blaine and three researchers entered the exercise chamber. The Doctor cocked her head slightly to one side, a disbelieving look on her face.

"Are you making a college graduate recite military definitions?" Sarah asked incredulously. Bri winked at the lieutenant as he gaped.

"No, ma'am. We were just having a little chat," Bri informed her superior, stifling a grin. "Did you need me for something?"

"Oh. Yes, dear. I have some mini-sub schematics that I want you to proofread before we send out for the materials," Sarah said, laying a hand on Bri's thin shoulder. "We need to begin our little experiment as soon as we possibly can."

"Yes, ma'am. Are you going back to the bridge, lieutenant?" Bri inquired Wilson. Wilson looked puzzled for a moment before glancing quickly at his watch.

"Ah, yes. Good thing you reminded me, Bri. I'll see you later." He jogged out of the chamber to the transferring pod.

Bri gazed after him before following the Doctor out of the chamber and down the spiraling staircase to the research deck. There were several four-foot-deep observatory pools around the main natatorium, where a trio of dolphins was kept for experimenting purposes.

The first two were male and female: Jacque and Sally. Jacque was named after the French man who invented the first submarine and diving gear, Jacque Cousto. Sally was named after the first female astronaut, Sally Ride. The youngest was their male calf that Bri was about to so eloquently dub "Free Willy," but Sarah drew the line and forced Bri to name the creature Rogue.

Within the observation tanks were marine creatures from breeding sea turtles and abandoned endangered fries to sick seahorses and even an injured manatee. From time to time, one of the divers would bring back unusual mineral or coral samples, but everything biological was pretty much neutral at the moment.

On the opposite side of the dolphin tank, the area was entirely devoted to the storing, manufacturing, designing, and testing of diving gear. At the time, a majority of it was serving as workspace for the blueprinting and modeling for the new miniature submarine. Bri had hinted to Sarah numerous times that all brigantines needed a name, and the smooth, metallic surface covering the phenomenal devices and workings deserved a worthy one: the Corona Inertia. Basically, it meant the continual ability to move forward when in motion with "crown" in front of it. The Crowned Speed. Except Bri refused to name it something so incredibly illiterate, so she shifted the names and terms around a bit to sound scientific.

Most of the military crew on the ship had no idea what the name meant, or what its purpose would serve. At first, some vouched for it to be named after the scientist that they believed to have created it: Sarah Blaine. After a few earsplitting intercom announcements sent in by Bri from her quarters after hacking into ship's bulletin frame, it was soon clear to the whole ship who was responsible for most of the designing and outlining for the submersible.

"So, what do we have here, Kathryn?" Bri asked, laying a hand on the shoulder of a young, dark-haired woman who was seated at a plastic desk – waterproof – and tracing over the hand-written blueprints. She sighed, glancing up.

"I don't see how this is going to work," Kathryn mumbled. "These wires intersect where they should just wind around. If they intersect, won't that confuse the main frame's commands, manually and otherwise?"

"No, no. These wires connect to form a strong, simultaneous reaction to the commands, to help the workings stay in perfect harmony with each other," Bri responded as she demonstrated by tracing the wires' connections with the tip of her index finger. "On the contrary, it should keep them from intermixing the commands."

Kathryn paused for a moment, and then she sighed, snatching up the blueprint from the desk. "You're right, of course," she muttered, shaking her head. Kathryn strode across the room to the scanner to send off for the items and transfer the information to the research mainframe to be copied off technologically. The Doctor clapped Bri on the shoulder in a wordless congratulatory praise. Bri grinned sheepishly.

"Well done, Bri, well done," Sarah complimented with a warm smile on her face.

"Well, I wouldn't even be here if you hadn't recommended me, Doctor," Bri responded, making her way over to the dolphin tank. Jacque had gone out of the ship portal to search for food, but Sally and Rogue were circling the tank, as though waiting for Bri to come. She grinned and flicked some water their way to announce her arrival. However, they had already seemed to note her presence, because they were nearly to the side of the tank by the time Bri was.

"Hey there, Sally girl," Bri cooed. "How you doing?"

The maternal dolphin whistled happily and edged up to be rubbed under the chin. Rogue was already nudging Bri's hand eagerly, nipping gently. Bri chuckled and slid off her ship clothes: an open button-up collared T-shirt, a colored tank top, and khakis, to reveal a bloodred-and-black Afterlife DSV two-piece. A young man at a metal examination booth glanced down quickly, his cheeks rapidly turning red. Bri rolled her eyes and slipped on her cerulean-and-black wet suit and black-rimmed goggles.

"I'll thank you to remind Doctor Harris that I am technically part of the staff, not a swimsuit model," Bri muttered in Doctor Blaine's ear. "Will you do up my hair?" she added more loudly.

The Doctor gave Harris a shaming glare as she tightly French-braided Bri's long, dark hair to be more manageable. Bri winced when Sarah yanked more forcefully than was necessary and rubbed her hairline gently as not to pull out the already bound hairs.

"Sorry, dear," Sarah said with a gasp. "I wasn't paying attention." Bri turned to face her superior and sat on the edge of the tank walls.

"Quite all right, compared to that incident you jabbed me in the eye with that computer wire." Bri grinned and swung one leg over the barrier. "Good thing it was sheathed." She pushed off from the platform and plunged below the waterline. Rogue was in tow, with Sally right on his tail. The Doctor grinned and shook her head.

"She's so incredible," Sarah muttered aloud. A figure moved up beside her and wrapped her arm over her shoulders. Sarah chuckled and shook her once more.

"Yeah, you have no idea," Johnny King whispered. He ran a long, slender finger over a dark scar spanning his left cheek thoughtfully. Sarah looked the dark shape below the water, beside her at serious, eighteen-year-old Johnny King, and then laughed out loud.

"Johnny, how many years will you be here with us?" Sarah sighed between a chuckle.