"Let me get this straight," Ray ponders as he jogs next to me on a treadmill in Tower Two's gym. "Just because you saw some lights in a forest for a couple of seconds, you think that there are people who survived the greatest natural catastrophe to befall the Earth since the dinosaurs became extinct?"

"Yes," I exhale the word.

"And you want me to go with you – breaking at least five articles in the Maritime Code – in the hopes that we'd find proof that we can move the entire population of Vanguard back onto land after twenty five years?" he asks, the pitch of his voice increasing proportionally with his skepticism.

"Well, not immediately," I relent. "But that's the long-term objective, yes."

We're free to talk openly because the clattering of weights and the humming of exercise machines drowns out our conversation. But I don't know why Ray's asking all this because we've been over this topic front and back continuously since I got suspended a week ago. Although I've used every argument that I can think of, he's still not convinced that there's a possibility that anyone would still be alive topside. I agree it's a long shot, but if there's any chance that things could go back to normal, I have to keep pushing.

We were the lucky ones. Our families were allowed onto Vanguard. But many, many others were left to just take care of themselves. Maybe now it's our turn to finally give them the help they were denied. It's kind of ironic, because I actually don't even know what normal is. For me, it just means the way life was before the world ended.

While it's documented that there were many signs of the impending doom, there wasn't much anyone could do against it even if they'd paid attention. Global warming was generations in the making and eventually there wasn't a way to reverse its effects. Seasons started becoming nonexistent, first with winters getting warmer and then summers getting cooler. Spring and autumn slowly blended into their predecessors, affecting not only crop production, but also melting polar ice caps. Rising sea levels and decreasing air quality encroached on the already overpopulated usable land, but the final strike from Mother Nature was also the deadliest. The worldwide thinning of the ozone layer allowed for deadly radiation to reach the Earth's surface in unbearable doses.

Although its original purpose was to test how people could self-sufficiently live in space, Vanguard was a perfect sanctuary for those it could hold. The problem was that it was designed for five thousand, which was less than the number of people who worked in the space program. But even that status wasn't enough for them and their families to get automatic access. Government officials, including the President of the United States, took up many of the slots. Then came the scientists who were needed not only to make sure that the undersea base stayed operational, but also to perhaps one day help reestablish mankind above ground.

Relocation was so swift that there wasn't too much time to extend the necessary invitations, nor did those in charge want to make the process too public. Therefore, almost everyone in Vanguard ended up being from the eastern coast of the US. Whether any other country was able to make similar preparations is unknown. Since my father is an engineer who helped design and build the station, there was no question of his importance. He met my mother on board; Ellen and I were born a couple of years later.

Ah, Ellen. It's as if she knows I'm thinking about her because the devil with a ponytail merrily bounces through the door.

"What does she want?" Ray grumbles.

Seeing that she's heading straight for us, I know we're about to find out.

"Am I interrupting?" she asks with an artificial smile. Of course she knows she's interrupting.

I lower my eyes to the speedometer and frown. "Always."

"Good. Now, big brother be a dear and let me get on that thing," she coos with the type of sweetness she only uses when she wants something, pointing at the treadmill I'm using.

"No way! Use one of those." I nod toward the half dozen empty ones dotting the room.

"Can't." The façade has dropped and she turns serious. "I need to talk to Ray."

"Is that really necessary?" he protests, looking at me for help like a cornered bunny rabbit trapped in the lion's cage.

"Yes, it is," she asserts, putting her hands on her hips. "And unless you want me to give you a direct order, Ensign Scott, then I suggest you move your butt."

Pulling rank like this is below the belt even for her. I grit my teeth and purposefully hit every button on the machine before jumping off. Hopefully I've managed to screw up the settings for her.

"All yours, princess." I motion toward the treadmill. "What's so important, anyway?"

She steps on the platform, grimacing at the digital readout. Everything is blinking on and off. "We're on duty this afternoon. First time solo, so Commander Lamer suggested we trade some notes beforehand."

Ray rolls his eyes, and I briefly waver in my refusal to save him from what's sure to be a very one-sided conversation. "So, man. Are you okay with what we talked about?" I give him an out.

He hesitates before answering and I can see that he understands the dilemma I've presented. However, he's not folding. "I can't Will. Sorry, dude."

Ouch. Wrong answer. At least he made my choice easier. Mister by-the book and my sister were made for each other. If they didn't hate one other's guts, they'd be a match made in heaven.

"I'll catch you later then," I say as Ellen starts yapping about her strategy for the mission.

* * *

Because Ray can't be convinced otherwise, I've decided that I'm going to have to do things my way.

It has taken Dunstan all week, but my Skipper is finally patched up. After a quick shower, I grab the bag with the supplies I've been gathering and head down to the maintenance bay. But no matter how many times I swipe my wrist across the scanner, the light refuses to turn green.

Shit. If I'm locked out of my own dock, then I won't be able to start the Skipper. More importantly, it means that I've lost my access to all of the maintenance bays. Simply put, I'm not going to be able to leave Vanguard on my own.

As if on cue, my salvation comes down the hall in the form of a pretty little brunette named Anne-Marie Bitmore. She's in front of the doors leading to Ray's dock when I block her way.

"How come you and I never really talk, Anne-Marie?" I ask, furrowing my brows and rubbing my chin in contemplation.

The girl's dumbfounded by my sudden interest in her, and she just stares at me with her big, brown eyes.

Dialing it up a notch, I lean one hand against the metal wall and stick the other in my pocket while puffing out my chest. I'm already six-foot-one and more muscle than fat so it's not that I need to make myself look any bigger, but it can never hurt.

"I know we've been out on missions together, but that was just work. I think it's time that we get to know each other. Like really know each other." I pause and smile, giving her to get the message. "I hear the mess hall in Tower Three makes a kick-ass calamari. That's where you live, Tower Three?"

She nods and quickly straightening up, I take her hand into mine before slowly raising it to my lips. "It's a date, then." I smile again, then softly kiss her hand. By now, she's so far gone that she doesn't even notice that it's her wrist that triggers the door when I casually lower our hands past the scanner. I swiftly step inside the bay and pretend to wave to someone in the back.

"Hey man, what's up! I'll call you, Anne-Marie," I finish as the doors slide shut, hoping that she won't try to come in after me. The ruse that I'm not alone in the dock seems to work because the door remains closed. Anne-Marie has most likely left to wonder what the hell just happened.

I know Ray's going out sometime today, but I don't know exactly when. It could be soon or it could be hours from now. I'm just going to have to take my chances and wait it out. But where?

There isn't much room to spare in a Skipper, which leaves even less places inside for me to hide. The only space that I can fit is a utility cupboard behind the pilot's chair. It's tight, but it'll have to do. I leave the door cracked so I can see when someone enters, but still have enough time to close it. And then I wait.

Boy, do I hate waiting. I'm also regretting not grabbing some lunch before coming down here because I'm already starving. I guess it's a good thing that I fall asleep and only wake when the canopy of the Skipper pops open. I only have a few seconds before Ray will see me, so I quietly pull the door to the cubby completely closed.

It's really dark in here. And the only thing I hate more than waiting? Yup, it's the dark. Great.

I'm hoping that Ray doesn't take his sweet time. I want to get far enough away from Vanguard soon, so I can come out of this hole in the wall.

Unfortunately, it sounds like he's going through every pre-submersion step imaginable. He's actually saying them out loud and adding "check" afterwards! It must have been one of the things Ellen suggested during their little meeting. I can't believe he bought her nonsense!

It takes him at least ten minutes to rev up the engines before finally lowering the Skipper into the water. I would have been out of the bay in five, but since I'm at his mercy, I'm going to have to suck it up.

Which reminds me, I need to check the time. Looking at my watch, I see that it's already four in the afternoon. It was an hour earlier when I was topside and it was still nighttime on the surface. I really hope this delay doesn't mean that it'll be daytime when we get there. I also can't give Ray too much more time to get away from the station. I'll have to make my move sooner than I had expected. That way, we'd have a chance at going above before the sun comes up. Fifteen minutes. That's all I can spare and then I'll have to talk him into breaking all of those rules. Good luck with that, Will.

My palms get sweaty as the minutes tick by. It's only been twelve, but my leg's falling asleep. It'll have to do.

I open the door and practically tumble out. "What's up?"

Ray's so surprised he jerks the steering yoke and the Skipper suddenly swings upward. "What the hell! What are you doing in there?"

I momentarily lose my balance, but he's already stopped the craft, jumped out of his seat, and is anxiously waiting for my answer.

"Uhm. Yeah. So I really did try to leave you out of this, but I can't do it by myself. I need your help, Ray," I plead.

"I'm not risking my neck for you Will. Not for this." He shakes his head.

"I know, I know. But you don't need to." I throw up my hands, palms toward him. "This is all on me. We'll just say that I forced you to go with me and I'll take all the heat."

He scoffs, his lips drawing into a dark line. "Like the Commander will believe that."

He's got a point. I think for a second before responding. "We'll have proof."

"What kind of proof?" he asks skeptically, but by then I'm already pulling my right arm back and punch him square in the face.

I sigh, watching as his head snaps back before he covers his nose with both hands. "Sorry, man," I mumble, knowing the apology is worthless.

"Are you freaking insane? I'm gonna kill you Will Scott!" Dropping his hands, he lunges at me, but there's so little space in the cabin that he just pins me to the back wall. I take this chance to grab his arms so he can't strangle me.

"Calm down!" I yell. "What's done is done. But you have to do this for me, Ray. You know I won't let it go until I see what's up there."

His struggling slows, and I let him go. Even under his dark skin, I can see that he's got a nice shiner forming already. He shakes his head, but I know I've won.

"One look. That's all I'm willing to risk," he says. "And then you promise you won't try this again. Deal?"

I can't help, but grin. "Deal! Absolutely deal!"