Michelle licked her muzzle and looked around at the others as they ate. The whole scene was so peaceful and calm that she found herself comparing it to another dining table, one far from here. Suddenly she was back at the Pow family table, placed squarely at the epicentre of a maelstrom of chaos – her two younger sisters Milson and Madge, both pelting her with their breakfast; her little brother howling at the top of his tiny lungs; her older brother Roland arguing over the comm with his girlfriend; her big sister Melinda mugging her for juice money on the way out of the house.

Sleep had been a mythical concept in their household, and so Michelle was dead on her feet most of the time. Sure, sometimes Coco's parents let her sleep over, which helped, but she had practically sleepwalked through school. Becoming a salvager had been an easy choice; it was something she'd enjoyed on television and didn't require good grades unless one was specializing in a field within that field, such as engineering. Which she wasn't.

Michelle rubbed her eyes and the present rolled back in front of her. The sun was still fairly strong, and she could see the whole bay outside through the nearest window. She was getting used to this world, she knew. Her nervousness and urge to hyperventilate had worn off, and she could feel herself adapting to the local gravity. She bounced up and down in her seat a little; it felt somewhat lighter than Omaril's. The urge to get to her big feet and bound around was strong as well; being a Husky, she had energy to spare, and it had been stored up in hibernap.

She decided to concentrate on refuelling herself, and glugged back a full glass of pink lemonade. She had lost count of how many she had drunk.

"Michelle, you've knocked back, like, twenty of those," Brendan said with a laugh in his voice. The Squirrel sipped delicately at his.

Michelle glanced at him and smiled. Had he been a Dog, and on Omaril, Michelle would have pegged Brendan with his spiky hair and cocky grin as the type who hung around in skate parks and said 'whatever' a lot. Her maw went slack. "Yeah. I'm probably gonna need to pee in a while," she blathered, regretting those words as soon as she'd uttered them.

Brendan guffawed. "Give us a three minute warning, yeah?"

Michelle growled at herself and began snarfing down another sausage.

"Hey, can I try one of those?" Michelle looked up to see Lina posing the question. The Badger's snout twitched inquisitively.

"Yeah." Michelle nodded and started to fork one of the smaller ones off her plate and onto Lina's; Lina caught it with her own fork and took a bite. "Mmm," she mumbled dreamily. "Oh, this is lovely! I gotta ask where they got this meat from. This'd go great on a pizza." She gulped it down, seeming almost disappointed that she'd finished that mouthful. "Can't wait to tell Marcy."

Michelle had to ask. "Marcy?"

Lina nodded, chomping more. "Mm, Marcy. My girlfriend. She runs a pizzeria back home. Called Lina's, appropriately enough. She opened it after we met."

"Friends and family discount, too," Daggett put in. "What, you think we follow this one around because it's good for our health?" He hoiked a thumb at Lina, who rolled her eyes.

"So, anniweh," Ames opened. Michelle blinked; she was having trouble parsing what the Fox was saying ever since Daggett had brought up her accent. "Aiee was thenkin' I cood mehbee use Mocon rods with timers instead of the Prawcawleyne sfeeres, at least util we ge' insayde the excvayter. Y'knaw, ta cleer any rocks if we coom across 'em."

"Solid idea, Ames," Lina chirped.

"Lemme translate for ya, Ames," Daggett cawed, pointing his muzzle at the Fox. "Sawlid eye-deeeer, Ear-mes."

Ames snarled. "Why are yeh twittrin' at me, Daggett?" she barked, flingin a paw in Michelle's direction. "She's gawt a way weirder accent!"

"Hey!" Michelle squawked, feeling stung. "What's wrong with the way I talk?"

Flink fielded that one. "Every tiiiiime yooouuu saaaaay aaa voooweeel, yooouuu draaaag iiit oooouuuut," the Beaver drawled, apparently emulating an Omaril accent.

Michelle huffed indignantly. "Iiii doooo noo... Iiii... Iii... dooo nooooot..." She growled as Flink tittered. "I d'n't!"

While Daggett and Flink pissed themselves laughing, Brendan's voice entered the fray. "All right, you two. Leave Michelle alone!" the Squirrel cried.

Flink snorted. "Oh, what, you like her or something?"

"No!" Brendan yelped. "Uh, I mean, no, nothing like that. She's new, that's all."

"Okay," Daggett said skeptically.

Michelle shot Brendan a grateful smirk, which he returned. We both feel it, she thought.

Lina cleared her throat. "Well, if you lot are done with the comedy routine, I think it's time to get down to what we're here to do." She twirled a finger above the table. "Finish up and let's get moving."

It was even warmer when the team left the restaurant; Michelle's body clock was still off, but she'd gathered enough information to realize that it was midday. The sun was high in the sky, but cloud was beginning to move in.

The sub was still floating where she and Brendan had moored it near the Lougheed; it struck Michelle that Symba Prime was one of those planets where crime was relatively rare. "You ready, Sea Dog?" Brendan asked her archly.

Michelle yapped. "Yep."

Brendan popped the access hatch and swung inside. Michelle followed him in.

Michelle sat next to Brendan in the cockpit as the Squirrel prepped the small vessel for action. "Thanks for speaking up for me back there," Michelle told him.

Brendan sniffed. "Hey, no worries. Personally I like the way you talk."

Michelle found herself giggling.

Suddenly, Lina popped her head into the cockpit. "Okay," the Badger announced. "I've just told the others and now I'm telling you two. I checked the local weather service, and apparently there's a storm headed in this direction. Thunder, lightning, electrical interference, the lot. It's a few hours out, but we still need to move. Given the timeframe we estimated for this job, we won't be able to get all of the formium in one trip."

"Nothing like a time limit to maximize the fun," Brendan sighed.

"As long as we get a decent amount today, we should still be on schedule," Lina said cheerily. "Then we can finish up tomorrow. Shiffrin wanted this done today, but I'll sweet-talk 'em."

"Yeah, you do that, Team Leader," Brendan chortled. Lina left, and he turned back to Michelle. "Shall we?"

Michelle nodded, looking out over the water. "Now or never," she said, unable to keep her voice from trembling. "We're, uh, not going too deep, are we?"

"Deep enough," Brendan said airily. "Relax, Sea Dog. We'll be fine."

Michelle whined as the sub sped away from the dock and turned out into the bay, leaving solid land behind. The Lougheed shrank to a tiny speck and disappeared. "How far out are we going?"

"Coupla hundred miles," Brendan replied. "Before that storm hits, we'll still have contact with the mainland, so don't fret."

"And when the storm does hit?" Michelle asked, not wanting to hear the answer.

"Hopefully we'll be back before then," Brendan said. He eyed her as the sub rocketed on. "C'mon, Michelle. You've seen Scrap Alphas. You know the conditions we crazy yipyaws work in."

Michelle knew he was right, but that didn't stop her from wanting to scream at him to go back. "Uh, I suppose." Her eyes went to the sky, and the thunderhead that was beginning its approach. "Are we nearly there?" she asked after a while.

"Actually, we are," Brendan said happily. "Shiffrin said that the unit went down some few klicks from here. We should be right on it in ten minutes."

Michelle still didn't feel placated. Every one of those ten minutes was another minute for the storm to move in.

Brendan plucked the mouthpiece from the radio and spoke into it. "Team Leader Seldin, we are within range of the target. Requesting permission to dive, dive, dive."

"Permission granted, Pilot Rafferty," Lina replied from somewhere aft.

"So, we're diving?" Michelle asked seconds before the sun's nose dropped and the craft plunged under the surface of the water into the inky depths below. She howled as her ears popped.

"Yes," Brendan replied primly as the sub descended.

Michelle gulped and steadied herself; her eyes scanned the cockpit, watching instinctively for leaks. She felt a helpless growl escape her maw. Huskies like her weren't built for small spaces, especially underwater spaces.

Brendan was attuned to her distress. "Keep it together, Pow," he said in a businesslike tone. "Once we're down, you'll feel better."

"You mean on the seabed?" Michelle whimpered, looking up at the fading light as the surface began to disappear.

"We're putting down in the trench near the excavator," Brendan said. "It's on a high shelf, so it's not like we're going to the very bottom of the sea." He powered the sub forward, hitting a series of switches, and a myriad of floodlights blasted a cone of yellow illumination from the front of the vessel. "We should be seeing the unit any second. We're already in the trench." He pored over the screens on the control panel.

Michelle jumped as a school of emerald-hued fish swam past the viewport. "There aren't any sharks down here, are there?" she asked.

"Yup. These waters are the primary hunting ground of the Symba lesser-spotted Dog-eating shark." Brendan grinned toothily; noticing Michelle's anything-but-amused expression, his grin faded. "Oh, take a joke."

Michelle grizzled moodily.

The lights played over the rocky floor of the trench, casting wavy shadows off kelp and reeds as the sub inched towards its destination. Michelle stared at a particularly large, flat-topped rock that resolved from the gloom up ahead. As they neared, the rock grew more rocks. Michelle squinted, seeing that one rock had steel links on its underside. "Wait, that's not a rock."

"It's a track unit," Brendan breathed. He picked up the mouthpiece again. "Team Leader Seldin, we're here. Repeat: we're here."

"Great!" Lina trilled back. "Rafferty, stay with the sub. Pow, I want you back here pronto."

Michelle licked her muzzle. "Alright, I'm on my way." She unclipped her restraints and got to her feet. She looked over at Brendan. "Guess I'll see you in a bit," she told him. She couldn't quite keep the sadness out of her voice.

"A short bit," Rafferty said with a half-smile. His slanted front teeth popped out. "If Daggett or any of that 'orrible shower give you trouble about your accent again, you tell me, right? I'll sort 'em out."

Michelle giggled. "You got it, Brendan." She headed aft, sparing him one last glance. "See ya."