“You cannot board a vessel of the United States Navy unless you satisfactorily pass a BSSTC, a basic survival skills training course,” Lieutenant Khaki almost snarled. “This course normally takes three weeks. Under these extraordinary circumstances, we can compact it into one week. In the extremely unlikely event that you last a week, you may then board a United States Naval vessel in an attempt to ascertain Dr. Martinez’s whereabouts, and, if possible, execute a rescue mission, under the supervision, direction, and authority of the United States Navy.”

“You sure do like saying ‘United States Navy,’ ” said Gazzy cheerfully.

Her gray eyes flared as she looked down at him.

“Lieutenant, I’m sure you can appreciate the very dire need we have to begin the search as quickly as possible,” John said firmly. “Admiral Bellows assured us that we would have every resource necessary.”

“And so you shall,” said Lieutenant Khaki, turning to him. “As soon as you pass a BS —”

“Yeah, we got the BS part,” I interrupted. “But look, we have all the survival skills we need — and then some. You guys just don’t have that much to teach us.”

For a moment Lieutenant Khaki looked like she was about to laugh in amazement. Instead, she just snorted and motioned to a khaki-clad underling. “Ensign, please show our visitors — and their dogs — to their quarters.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said the young ensign, touching his cap.

As Total huffed indignantly, I whirled to stare at John. He looked upset and also tired and frustrated. I remembered that he cared about my mom too. He waved us closer.

“Guys,” he said, “I’ll make some phone calls, see what I can do. In the meantime, just do what they say. If they do agree to help us, it could mean the difference between life and death.”

My mom’s life or death.

“We need their resources,” John went on. “And frankly, I don’t know that we have any contacts with enough leverage to make the navy forgo their standard operating procedure. But, like I said, let me make some calls.”

Reason and emotion battled inside my head. Where was my Voice when I actually needed it? I thought it had popped up earlier, but I wasn’t sure if that had really been my Voice returning, or if Angel had been putting thoughts into my head. Or was it my own wishful thinking, blurting out something in the (somewhat relative, in my case) privacy of my mind?

At any rate, no Voice stepped up now to help me make a decision.

I hated this. Hated it. I’d always gotten us out of scrapes on my own. I’d never once had to agree to let some official person help us. But this was different. I knew I couldn’t find my mom by myself or with just the flock. The Pacific Ocean is too big, too deep.