Inside the hyperbaric lifeboat, Tusker had busied himself with tidying the cabin. He re-stowed the life jackets in their overhead racks, rehung the survival suits in their lockers, and stacked the remaining pile of waterproof cases in a corner. If we’re going to be in here for a few days, might as well. Sam was asleep on one of the small bunks built into the wall of the lifeboat, mouth slightly open, snoring quietly. Tusker’s gaze lingered on her face and tangled, loose braid and he smiled briefly.

With no means of driving or navigating the lifeboat, they were at the mercy of the currents and wind. At least we’ll be able to safely decompress and have food and water for a few days, Tusker thought. Someone will find us.

He walked over to a starboard porthole and peered out. The view was distorted from the thick Perspex, but the air looked hazy and to the west he could still see a dark cloud hovering high above the water. He wondered how much damage had been done. Had his plan caused more damage than good? He’d meant to use the limpet mine to destroy the bomb inside the Vampire, not on the surface. Had a wave flooded the coastline, killing thousands? And what about the radiation?

How long had they been drifting? He glanced at his wrist, then remembered his watch had been lost in the wreck. It made him think of his father, and of the day he had given him the Aquastar. It was on their cabin’s dock at Lac La Belle in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Tusker was nine and had just emerged from the water, struggling with the heavy scuba cylinder. His father, in his wheelchair, shouted encouragement. Looking back he realized that his father knew he was dying. The bends he’d sustained five years earlier had paralyzed him from the chest down. Worsening pneumonia had made it difficult for him to breathe. But he insisted that he would teach Tusker to dive, even if it meant doing it from the dock.

“Stay too long, too deep, and you’ll end up like me,” he had smiled at young Julian. “You’re going to need a good watch.” He pressed the Aquastar into Tusker’s palm.

Tusker felt a deep sadness looking at his empty wrist and wondered what his father would have thought of him now. He hoped he’d be proud of him.

Suddenly, he was jolted out of his thoughts by a loud thwack-thwack. He knew what it was immediately. A helicopter.

Fallout

Sri Lanka. Six months later.

A month after the mysterious explosion, the coastline between Trinco and Batticaloa still stank from the dead fish drifting ashore. Debris was washing up as far south as Arugam Bay and a mutilated corpse was discovered in the lagoon at Pasikudah. Fishermen returned to harbor with empty holds and recreational diving was declared off limits by the marine authorities.