7. Sharkie
Date: 4-29-2024
Time: 1005
My teeth grind as the rookie at my feet struggles to do a proper push-up. It’s a slap in the face, having my handpicked team look like they’ve never seen a day of training. It’s as if Dutton snatched up a pile of forms and said, ‘these will do’.
“Straighten. Your. Back.” I try to keep my tone calm, but each word comes through clenched teeth. What’s going to happen if we’re compromised? Will any of these people even know what to do? How to defend themselves? How to fight?
I pinch the bridge of my nose, battling back against a rapidly forming headache. Everything is going to be fine . I can complete my mission no matter what . Afterward, I’ll treat myself to a bubble bath and a large glass of wine, or maybe just the entire bottle. That can be my motivation along with the idea of obliterating Depth. I clasp my hands behind me and line my shoulders. The soldier finally straightens his back and does a proper push-up. Not too bad . If I had to get these men and women ready to fight on my own, then so be it. Dutton would be hearing a harsh word or two from me.
“Go to the flight deck. Ensure the crew knows to keep the helicopter pad clear in case we need emergency evacuation.” The soldier jumps to his feet. I don’t blame him, I don’t like being around cranky superiors either. On the plus side, at least my members know how to stand at attention.
I give him a curt nod. “Dismissed.”
Time is going too slowly. Every minute we spend out here in the vast open sea is another minute wasted. No one talks about the moments leading up to your greatest accomplishment, exclusively the aftermath. Now I see why. It’s absolute torture. I brush my hand against the back of my neck, moving the flyaways off my skin. While waiting, you have too much time to think of every scenario, good, bad, ugly. Your mind plays games envisioning bodies that weren’t supposed to fall, and innocent lives ending painfully. I take another breath, pulling the collar of my shirt from my neck. Why is it so damn hot in here?
All my time on the field alone has messed with me. That’s all this odd feeling is, just an inconsistency in my routine. I growl, wiping my hands against my navy pants. Everything is fine, the team needs a little work, but I earned my rank, I was put in my position for a reason. The ship's internal machinery rumbles below my feet, reverberating through my bones until it fills my ears, silencing my raging internal battle. Stretching my arms out, my hands trail the narrow space of the corridors.
It’s an eerie feeling wandering to the control room, the metal siding gliding under my fingers occasionally dips into another entryway that I don’t have the confidence to explore just yet. I know where the vital areas are, no need in raising my uneasiness for the sake of being nosey. Subtle beeps and voices integrate to a soothing noise, similar to how headquarters sounds on a calm day.
“... and the captain makes that call.”
Pausing in the threshold I look between the ship’s commander and Joey. He sure does know how to make any space around him feel dreadful, I wonder what his war stories consist of. He’s undoubtedly older, judging by the faded scars lining his cheekbone down to his neck now visible from the light filtering through the view windows. Everyone stands bolt upright. I nod to the commander, who does the same in return and everyone relaxes.
“I apologize for intruding. I just wanted to check on our progress.”
Please tell me how much longer we have in this purgatory?
“I was just talking to the Sergeant about that.” He snaps a look of disdain towards Joey. “We are making our estimated time.”
I quietly observe the exchange, and the odd feeling grows a little. With hands clasped behind back, I round the bodies until I’m standing in front of the control panels looking out to the watery horizon.
“Sergeant,” my tongue sucks the back of my teeth, “there are some soldiers near the docking pad, gather them and run them through what to do when compromised.” I turn to face him tilting my chin up, he easily towers over me, but I like the feeling of looking down the bridge of my nose at him. Something flashes over his dead eyes, making my guts recoil. He dips at the waist and leaves. Dutton would've had a fit if he had seen that, ‘he’s not a butler, he’s a soldier’.
“So, we’re doing well on timing then?” My shoulders relax as I turn to the commander. He moves with the grace of a professional, flicking through switches and buttons, bobbing his head quickly while he rushes through the motions. I’m probably distracting him. No doubt he was already put behind on his work while he was talking.
“When we’re around ninety-six and a half clicks out, I’ll boost the engines up. Rather not waste resources before then.”
“Agreed.”
At least now I know we’ll make quick time when we’re close. So, I leave him to his work, while I go to do my own, painfully aware of the fact I have little time to prepare the dozen that are relying on me. Technically I only need to oversee ten considering Daymen and Joey are experienced.
Daymen . Somehow, he was outcompeting the other man who usually occupied my cerebral, but I shake it off as I settle behind my desk, the trash can lingering nearby, just in case.
Date: 4-29-2024
Time: 1734
The night becomes cooler than last, a bit more of a chill in the air. It smells different too—it’s not just the sea salt anymore, it’s an odd fresh scent like rain that threatens to fall from the dark clouds blocking the moon. My steps are light, but not as hesitant as before, leading me to the edge where the chipped rail rests against my waist. Flicking my nail against the paint, I watch the fleck drop to the rolling waves below.
My heart rate picks up. The small chip gets swallowed, dragged into the churning depths. Doomed to disintegrate. With another deep inhale, I chip another piece. The water can’t touch me unless I let it.
I follow the motions Daymen showed me, raising my arms until my fingers interlace behind my neck, steady on my feet as the ocean stared back. I won’t let myself fall.
“Would you look at that?”
I drop my arms, startled. He should start clearing his throat or coughing or scuffing his boot or just… something . It’d be better than a damn heart attack every time. When I face him, I don’t even bother to put my hands behind my back. I’ve fought a majority of this war on my own, and I’ve faced my fears. I’d even say I’ve overcome a few. A grin spreads as he holds up a plate of the chef’s cooking. I have no reason to panic or tense up, not when I’m safe .
“A storm’s gonna roll in. Figured you’d maybe wanna eat with me and watch a movie on my portable DVD player?” I roll my eyes as he curls his mouth enough to make that damn dimple show with a very comical wiggle of his eyebrows.
“Daymen–”
“Just so you know, I’m marking it as a date, but don’t worry, I won’t try to seduce you or nothin’.” He holds his unoccupied hand up in the air as a surrender when I open my mouth to retort. “I’m not here to tell you that you need a distraction, but I will say, I think you need some time to relax.”
I cross my arms over my chest, but if I could melt into a puddle, then that’s what would be happening to me right now. I spend too much time pushing down unwelcome feelings. ‘The perfect soldier keeps them buried deep down’ as Dutton would say while training. If you're a walking machine then the most dangerous thing can't hurt you; other people .
Careful, precise steps, which come to a stop when the tip of my boots touch his, turning his grin into a full-blown smile.
“I can’t promise the same for when all this,” he waves his hand around the ship, “is said and done, though. Imma find a way to make you let me in, eventually.”
That sounds like a better goal than a bath and wine. My fingers brush against his, trying to pull the slop-covered plate into my grasp. He lifts it up into the air and out of my reach.
“Is that a yes, Captain?”
I roll my eyes and the way his hand finds the small of my back as he guides me feels all too natural.
“Where the hell did you get a portable DVD player?”
He huffs a laugh.
“You really think I’m dumb enough to tell my boss I smuggled it in?”
I steal a glance as he pushes the metal barrier open catching the subtle smirk.
“Very funny.” My tone is dry but I can’t help but smile through the words. My palms slick with sweat the deeper into the enclosed death trap we go. My quarters are more towards the front of the boat, allowing me to tactfully avoid surpassing my comfort zone, whereas this seems further, making us dip into a side passage down a flight of stairs. My heart begins to pound, a hand wrapping itself lightly around my throat.
“What’re we watching?” I attempt conversation hoping for a distraction from the way the scent goes from his deodorant to wet, salty metal. I can hear dripping somewhere. It’s just condensation . My thoughts rationalize the sound; the water this far out is cold, the inside of the ship is warm, it’s just condensation. His shoulder nudges mine, trying to lighten my mood.
“How about… Cast Away?”
I narrow my gaze in his direction with my mouth agape. The laugh that vibrates off the groaning walls sends a chill down my spine.
“You're not good at this relaxing thing, darlin’. You’re kinda defeating my purpose.”
I scoff, pushing my tongue into my cheek. He’s not wrong. It’s nearly impossible to relax when I know that less than a few sheets of steel separate me from certain death. He braces his hand against a door, revealing a lackluster room somewhat the size of a small cubicle. I shift on my feet. It’s a complete contrast to what I’ve been staying in, and it makes my heart sit in my mouth.
“Oh, come on now. Don’t look at my humble abode like that.” Daymen teases, still holding the door for me. I gingerly step in and the soft click behind me has my teeth grinding up my lower lip. His presence behind me is still, before his hands land upon my shoulders and soothingly rub out the tension in them.
“Remember my quarters back at base? How small they were.” His voice is hushed, calming. I nod. His broad hands pat me twice, firmly. “Go take a seat then, Captain.”
Kicking off my boots I perch on the edge of the metal bed, examining what I have to eat. The particularly disgusting experience of throwing up almost every item on the menu has put me off most meals. Meanwhile Daymen huffs out a laugh rummaging through his luggage and pulls out a small DVD player and zip case of movies.
“If you haven’t declared it, I’m supposed to report you for that.” I say, raising a forkful of mashed potatoes to my lips—I feel the gagging begin already. The way he moves is domestic, shifting through cases and propping up the little screen like we’ve done this a thousand times. As if we’d do it a thousand more.
He flicks off the light on his way over to the bed, which dips almost to the metal bench below from his sudden drop of weight on the mattress. I have to counterbalance my tray of food as it threatens to leap into the air. He sighs, his hands nestling behind his head.
“You were much more fun when you weren’t my boss.”
“You mean when we were kids.” I correct through slow, reluctant chews. Technically we were 18 but it was so long ago it feels like we were kids. Back then things were simpler, easier. I tilt my head curiously, as the opening credits come on, bracing myself to swallow.
His leg brushes mine as he crosses them, and it sends a feeling of fire scorching through my clothing. His cot is too small, giving no room for any type of personal space. But it’s intimate, comfortable almost, as if we’re camping in a tent instead of traversing the expanse. I give up attempting to stomach dinner and place my plate on the floor, my elbows resting on my knees and my face in my hands.
“I can’t believe you have The Notebook.” I laugh under my breath. Silence. It lingers, exaggerating the voices in my head. Be the perfect soldier. They don’t get to stay too long as rough fingers brush between my shoulder blades, pushing my hair away from the area. A chill rolls down my spine from the way they trail a lazy patter down to my ribs until he’s pulling me into his embrace.
“Maybe I plotted getting you to watch it with me. A nice change of pace from the gory shit you like.” His voice is low enough it vibrates his chest against my ear. I fight back a laugh behind tight lips.
“You like my ‘gory shit’.”
“I do,” he traces a small circle on my shoulder. “Cordelia, I like everything about you.”
My heart skips a beat as he hooks his finger under my chin drawing my attention.
“Always have darlin’.” He grins.
I process the words, my eyes darting between his as their deep chocolate absorbs all my anxieties, leaving behind a swarm of butterflies into my abdomen
“I’m pretty damn good at planning a date, aren’t I? Just imagine the places I could take you if we were back home.”
I scoff lightly. Why can’t I form words? He’s left me lost, dumbfounded at how easy it feels with him. His thumb brushes my bottom lip, and his gaze follows the motion.
“I wish I could figure out what is going on in that head of yours.”
My breathing shallows. Even more so when he leans in, and his breath mingles with my own. I shouldn’t— My thoughts cease as his mouth brushes against mine replacing his finger, following a path it’s wandered before.
“Day… men.” His name escapes out in the brief moments where I can catch my breath. He places his hands either side of my face, his fingertips extending into my hair, bringing his lips to mine harder. His tattooed arm shifts beneath my body and I find him between my legs as I reach my hands into his onyx hair. I almost moan. He tastes of spearmint, fresh, good. He tastes right .
“I want to make this work.” The words caress my skin as his mouth trails a path to my jaw. The cool metal of his dog-tags falls from his shirt beside my neck. A gentle kiss below my ear. “We could make this work.” A kiss to the hollow of my throat.
I tense. I can’t. His lips are on mine again, my brain is confused.
“Daymen.” I hold a sterner edge in my voice this time as I press my hands to his face. He softly pulls back, his brows furrowed, and features pull tight in confusion.
“Captain” He murmurs, and I groan. I roll my neck urging myself to stay levelheaded. I can’t get distracted now.
“I need to focus on my priorities. End the war, kill—”
“Yeah, I know I’ve heard it all before.” He cuts me off matching his tone to my own. I swallow and he takes a harsh breath, leaning back onto his knees. I drag myself up to sit in front of him.
“You act as if you can’t do that with me by your side, as if I’m not here doing that with you right now.” He says lighter this time, a thumb reaching out to stroke my cheek, forcing a smile to form but his dimple doesn’t show.
“ I can’t .” The words are out before I can form a want to stop them. “You’re a distraction.”
He pulls his hand back and shifts himself to throw his legs over the edge of the bed. I reach for him. I can’t risk everything now. Not when I’m so close.
“You have to understand. I can’t focus on anything else. This has always been my end goal. With you in it…” I feel my brows flexing, my shirt wrinkling. This is not a proper soldier . “Well you’re a… a liability. A chance I can’t take.”
His head darts in my direction, features soft and lips parted.
“A liability?” The way the two words sound so heartbroken has me suppressing a wince. I stand, the walls are closing in. I can’t breathe. The dinner tray clatters beneath my feet, and I cower back against the far wall.
“I’ve worked my ass off for this moment. I’ve trained and fought to get this.” I say defensively. I begin obsessively smoothing my shirt. He remains sitting, deflated on the edge of the bed.
“I know.” His eyes meet mine and I pull my hand away before he can grasp my wrist. I need out. I need to focus on what matters.
“ Cordelia .”
My name carries into the dark hallway where machines rumble in the walls and my anxiety skyrockets. The smell in here is too strong, making my lungs spasm with a need to take a deeper inhale but my chest won’t expand with a breath. What was he thinking? I don’t have people by my side. I have them in my ears. I’m not ready, not until I end this sick game with him . My anger flares, mixing with my panic as my feet stumble up the steps but I trip, bracing my hands against the railings that cage me in to help force myself the rest of the way up.
If Depth would’ve just fucking left us alone, I wouldn’t have to be here. I wouldn’t have to be making these choices. I could be happy. I could be free. I could have my family back.
I barge through the door, fumbling onto the deck letting the fresh air fill my nose. My stomach churns the few forkfuls of my meal. My hand clasps over my mouth.
This could’ve been prevented. I could be happily locked in a room somewhere back home with Daymen whispering all the things any woman would kill to hear. I rush over to the rail.
I will kill to hear those things.