Chapter 6
Flustered by my wayward instincts, I turned toward Sam, pulling up the deployment pattern. “Will you be able to move the boat according to these coordinates, Sam? I need to show you the—”
The words died in my throat. Sam wasn’t looking at me. He was staring at Viktor with an intensity that made my chest tighten. His expression was almost reverent, tracking every movement as Viktor adjusted his gear.
I waited a moment. Then another. “Sam?” He hadn’t heard me at all.
“See you guys later!” Viktor’s cheerful voice broke the moment as he gave a thumbs up and rolled backward into the dark water with a splash, the first mesh bag of hydrophones bobbing for a second before disappearing down with him.
Grant followed a second later, the second mesh bag of hydrophones secured to his harness.
Sam blinked, and his gaze snapped to me. For just a heartbeat, his expression was completely exposed—caught. Then his mask slammed back into place, professional and controlled. His jaw tightened, and something defensive flickered in his eyes, like he was gearing up to explain or deflect.
I didn’t know if I had started looking at every man as if he were gay or if Waypoint Station was just a place full of horny gay dudes, but I didn’t say anything.
I just gave him a small smile and turned back to my laptop.
“Can we go over the coordinates one more time? We’ll need to move about fifty meters northwest after the first two placements. ”
Sam’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he gave me a nod before coming closer. “Show me the pattern.”
We discussed the array while a cold wind whipped across the open waters, carrying the sharp salt smell of the ocean. After a few minutes, Grant’s voice crackled through the underwater comm system, distorted and slightly metallic. “I’m at depth.”
I leaned closer to the screen, watching the blinking dot that represented Grant’s position. “Okay, you’re going to move fifteen meters to your left—west. Tell me when you’re in position.”
“Copy that.”
Static hissed through the comm as Grant maneuvered. The seconds stretched out, my breath fogging in the frigid air.
“In position,” Grant’s voice came through.
“Perfect. Deploy it there.”
A moment later, a green dot appeared on my screen as the hydrophone’s GPS transmitter activated. Relief flooded through me. “Signal confirmed. That’s one down.”
After thirty minutes, they surfaced. Grant pulled himself onto the boat, water streaming off his drysuit. Viktor followed, both of them breathing hard from exertion and cold. We helped the divers out of their breathing gear and situated them where the heater was blowing warm air.
Sam already had thermal blankets ready—metallic silver sheets that crinkled as he wrapped one around Viktor’s shoulders. I grabbed another and approached Grant.
“Here, you need to warm up.”
“I’m fine.” But he let me drape it around him anyway, his gloved hands too stiff to pull it himself.
Sam poured steaming soup from a thermos into insulated cups. “Drink. Both of you.”
The small portable deck heater was on, its fan pushing warm air toward Grant and Viktor, who were sitting on the equipment bench. They had an hour before the next dive—enough time to warm their core temperature back up and rest, according to Sam.
Grant wrapped both hands around the cup, the steam rising into the cold air. “Two down. The next set should go faster once we’re down there.”
“Don’t rush,” I said, sitting down next to him. “We have time.”
“Limited days though.” He met my eyes over the rim of the cup. “I want to make sure we get everything placed right.”
Viktor was chattering away about penguins’ antics. Normally, I would be most interested in that, but worry gnawed at me. I hadn’t realized just how much of a Herculean task dropping the hydrophones would be.
After the second dive, the exhaustion was starting to show. When they surfaced, Grant’s movements were slower as he pulled himself onto the boat, and Viktor slumped against the railing immediately, accepting the thermal blanket without his usual cheerful commentary.
Sam’s expression tightened as he watched the divers. I opened an energy bar and offered it to Grant. It slipped out of his frozen hands. Shit. I caught it before it hit the boat deck and started feeding him quietly.
“Are you happy with the placements?” Grant asked, his voice rougher. “Did I get them in the right positions?”
My chest tightened and tears sprang to my eyes. “Every single one has been perfect. You’re doing amazing.”
Viktor had gone completely quiet, just drinking the soup Sam was feeding him, his eyes half-closed. I watched as Sam’s gaze fixed on Viktor for a long moment, then shifted to me. “Do we really need to finish all of them today?”
The question came out sharp, almost accusatory. I flinched.
We were on day two. The male leopard seal could start vocalizing at any time—this was breeding season, the narrow window when they sang.
Every delay risked missing critical data.
But looking at Grant’s exhausted face, at Viktor barely keeping his eyes open through the mandatory rest period, I felt conflicted.
“No,” I said, uncertainty making my voice waver. “We can… we can come back tomorrow. I don’t want—”
“Viktor can stay on the boat for the last one,” Grant interrupted. “I’ll do the last dive solo and finish placing the hydrophones.”
“No.” Viktor straightened immediately, his accent thickening with fatigue. “No, I go with you. Safety protocol. Always buddy system.”
“Viktor—” Grant started.
“I’ll go.” Viktor’s tone left no room for argument.
Sam’s jaw worked, but he didn’t oppose Viktor. After a moment, he just nodded once, sharp and controlled.
The last dive felt endless. Sam and I stood on opposite sides of the boat, both staring at the dark water where our partners had disappeared. The laptop felt heavy on my arm. The comm hissed with noise.
I guided Grant through the last placements. When they finally surfaced, I grabbed Grant’s arm and helped pull him onto the deck, not letting go until he was safely aboard. He collapsed in my arms. I held him all the way back to the dock. No one said a word.
***
The mess hall was warm and bright, a sharp contrast to the gray cold outside.
Grant and Viktor had shed their drysuits, and hosed down with warm water in the bay area.
Now, in thermal base layers, they both looked better.
The additional food and warmth had revived them somewhat. Sam looked relaxed, too.
That post-mission energy filled the surrounding space—exhausted but triumphant.
“That last placement?” Viktor slapped Grant’s shoulder, grinning. “Easiest dive of the day.”
Grant laughed, shoving him back. “You almost dropped the hydrophone.”
“Almost does not count!”
“You always overextend yourself,” Sam said sternly, setting a full plate in front of Viktor. Second servings. “Eat.”
Viktor waved him off, still grinning at Grant. “He worries too much.”
I pushed a second serving toward Grant, along with a water bottle. “How long have you and Sam been working together?”
“Uhh…ten or so years,” Viktor said around a mouthful of food. “My family wanted to move somewhere warm. So we moved from Russia to Alaska when I was fifteen. That is where I met Sam.”
I paused, confused. “Wait! Your family wanted to move somewhere warm, so you moved to Alaska?”
Viktor started laughing, nearly choking on his food. “Yes! Man, from where I am in Russia, Alaska is warm.”
Grant was grinning at me over his plate, his eyes warm despite the exhaustion still visible in the lines around them. Our knees touched under the table.
“So you and Sam have known each other since you were fifteen?” I asked.
“Da. He taught me to dive. Best teacher.” Viktor’s expression went soft for just a moment before Sam shoved another roll at him.