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Pacific Rim Academy of Science (PRAS)

Micronesia Division

Ritidian Point, Guam

The drive to Ritidian Point, Guam’s northernmost point, was relaxing and extremely refreshing. After being on the 747 for more than 16 hours, breathing stale air, plane food, cheap perfumes, port-o-potty disinfectant, feet and God-knows-what that Korean lady was eating in front of her, it was wonderful to breath the fresh island air. She found the sign she was looking for and made a left off the main road and onto a single-laned path that zigzagged through the dense jungle.

When she saw the “PRAS” sign and an arrow painted under it, she made that turn and suddenly hit the brakes. She had come to a bluff that overlooked the expanse of the Pacific Ocean. She got out and stood on the edge of the bluff and looked down. A sheer drop to the rocks and surf below must have been more than 500 feet. She swallowed, got back in the SUV, and continued along the road down. With her right hand on the emergency break, she traveled slowly and cautiously down the steep slopes and serpentine turns, not daring to look at the beautiful and breathtaking view off to the side. It took her 12 minutes to finally get to another sign, a more official one that read:

PACIFIC RIM ACADEMY of SCIENCES (PRAS)

MICRONESIAN DIVISION

Ritidian Point, GUAM, Marianas Islands

Specializations:

Marine Biology, Oceanography, Deep Sea Exploration, Undersea Cartography, Marianas Trench Research & Development, Reef Preservation; Aquatic Behavioral Sciences; Sub Technology.

Staff:

Dr. JOE SALAS-Director; Dr. IAN CAMACHO-Asst. Director

Professors: Dr. Tina Brkić; Prof. Miguel Cruz, Prof. Laura Limtiaco

Public Relations/Military Liaison: Kelly Genero

Residencies:

Sakura Funihashi; Nu'u Pali; Deana Santos; Akira Masahiro

She saw the name she was looking for on the sign and drove on, seeing a massive complex on the water's edge in the distance. After more than a half mile from the bluff to the shoreline, she was in the visitors' parking. She looked at her cell phone: 6:48 P.M. The sun was already fading. Deep purples, pinks and orange hues broad-stroked the sky.

The grounds and security lights were already on. She walked to the front glass doors and saw the working hours sign: Monday through Friday: 0800 – 1800. With no cars in the parking lot save hers, she cursed the bad timing. She would have to wait until Monday. She was about to enter the SUV when she heard faint voices somewhere nearby. She walked around the side of the complex and noticed a concrete stairway that lead even further down, towards the water some 50 yards below.

As she moved down, the voices grew louder and more discernable. There were at least three men and two women. The stairway finally ended at a massive deck that began on the property but extended out some 75 feet, judding out over the water. Connected to the deck was a mini harbor or pier with a 20-foot sailboat, Zodiac motorboats, jet skies and kayaks tied up to it. The building itself, sitting back up against the hillside was five stories tall, with a modern glass and wood facade. Huge glass doors at the base opened out to the deck.

But what amazed her most was that the deck had a massive hole cut out at the farthest point—a specially-designed pool that opened up to the ocean. The voices she heard originated there. She moved closer, amazed by the entire complex that seemed specifically designed for someone's intimate association with the ocean. She moved closer to the pool which was some 40 feet wide in a half moon shape. The ocean waves gently rolled into the pool and receded out. Besides the people, other things were in the seawater pool with them: dolphins. She smiled as the dolphins rolled in with the waves and swam freely with the occupants like personal pets. Pool lights illuminated the clean blue water and that's when she noticed something else: The swimmers were naked.

“Hello! Excuse me!” she called as she stood a few feet from the pool. The swimmers looked at her and waved.

“Hello! Are you lost?” asked one drawing laughter from all. She smiled embarrassingly.

“I’m looking for Dr. Salas? Dr. Joe Salas?”

“It’s after working hours, honey!”

“Yeah, I know. But I was thinking that if I could catch him—”

“Do you even know who he is? Do you know who you’re dealing with?” asked one of the swimmers. “He doesn’t do interviews without an appointment. And if you’re Navy, you’re going to have a hard time getting near him.”

“I understand. I do have business with him of great importance.” All the swimmers moved closer to her, in no way bashful about their nakedness.

“After working hours is his time. If he were here, he would say you’d have to come in with us in order to talk.” She nodded and smiled at the joke. “Is what you have to say that important that you would do that?”

“Yes, it is.”

The group smiled collectively and swam back to the dolphins. Suddenly, a man walked up and stood next to her. She didn’t seem to notice. Only when his shorts and shirt dropped to the ground did she look at him. She instantly recognized his face from his books and magazine photos.

“Dr. Salas!” The man looked sternly at her. Now wearing only Speedos and a tank top, she couldn’t help but glance quickly at his tall, athletic physique. His balding head was the only proof that he was in his late thirties; but his muscular frame and chiseled abs made him look as though he was in his twenties.

“Dr. Salas, I’m Lieutenant Kira Brightman from the Navy’s weapons research facility.”

“WEPS?”

“Yes, sir, and I was sent here to talk to you about a matter of grave importance.” He nodded indifferently with a smirk on his lips.

“Grave importance, huh?” he spat. “Why is it always a matter of grave importance when the Navy’s ass is in a sling? But when I bring up a matter of “grave importance” that involves the Navy, you guys throw my ass under a bus and say it’s not your problem!?” He set his hands on his hips impatiently, his eyes blazing with scrutiny. She felt uncomfortable as his glare burned right through her.

“Sir, I. . .I understand that your anger with the Navy goes back many years. I’ve read the reports, the injunctions and the court cases, but sir. . .if you hear me out. . .this is different.” She swallowed hard. “This is quite different.” He considered her as her eyes shifted nervously.

He quickly realized that she wasn’t an expert on what she wanted to say; in fact, she wasn’t even thoroughly briefed. He’d met countless Navy representatives who stuck out their chests, flashed their badges, demanded his help and expected some professional courtesy. They always arrived in uniform, Commander’s rank or above, and with an aide or some extra staff members at their sides. It made no difference to Joe Salas. He chewed these “experts” up and spat them out, sending them back to Washington with their tails tucked between their bureaucratic legs. The last one was over four years ago.

But this one was different. Other than carrying a briefcase, Kira Brightman was dressed in a sundress, tank top and sandals. She didn’t claim to be an expert. She was young, no more than 25, a Lieutenant. She was nervous and out of her element, Salas surmised. His feud with the Navy notwithstanding, the fact that she was from WEPS gave her an advantage over all of the others. He decided to test her.

“Inside.”

“Excuse me?”

“Inside.” He cocked his head to the pool. “It’s after hours. You wanna talk to me, then you get inside.” She looked down at her clothes and was going to ask if she could borrow one of the women’s swimsuits when she looked up and saw that he was now completely naked. Her mouth opened slightly as her eyes followed his wide chest to his six-pack, and down to his groin area. He stood patiently until her visual inspection was completed. She swallowed hard again and raised her eyes to his.

“Do I meet your approval, Lieutenant?” he asked impatiently. She nodded silently. “Clothes aren’t allowed in the pool.” He walked to the edge and dove in.

“It’s about time, Joe!” called one of the swimmers. “Where are the others?”

“We’re right here!” Kira looked around as four other people rushed up, two men and two women. They carried a cooler full of ice, bottled drinks and bags of food items. They set everything down at a group of picnic tables on the deck. They returned to the edge of the pool, quickly greeted her, then stripped naked as well. Kira noticed that with the exception of two or three of them in their twenties, the majority of the group must have been in their thirties, but all of their bodies were in magnificent shape, tanned and muscled. They dove into the pool. Kira suddenly found herself forgotten, standing alone while the rest frolicked in the water. It was obvious that this group was going to do their own thing whether she was there or not.

Salas was enjoying himself with a dolphin in each hand, being dragged happily along the surface. Another person was flipping fish to the other dolphins from a bucket. Kira turned to leave, content to return the next morning during working hours, but considered the words of her commanding officer Admiral Kaneshiro: He will test you, toy with you and try to anger you. . .You might even have to pass some kind of character examination before he lets you in the door. . .But if you stand strong and earn his trust, you may just get him to open up just enough.

“Hey Joe!” called one of the swimmers. “Looks like the stranger’s got some guts!” Salas turned his head to see Kira, standing at the edge of the pool, completely naked. She put her hands out to the side and pirouetted around in a slow circle, giving them an ample view of her own taut physique. She faced forward again and placed her hands on her hips.

“Well, what do you know,” said one of the men. “Natural blondes still exist!”

She looked directly at Salas.

“Do I meet your approval?” Salas smiled and waved her in.

After two hours of swimming with the dolphins and enjoying several tropical cocktails prepared by one of the colleagues, Kira was feeling not only a little drunk, but unusually comfortable with the entire group. She was invited to join their in-depth conversations about climate change, astronomy and scientific research. This was not a group of Friday night partiers drinking on the beach; she was conversing with scientists who stood stark naked with Blue Hawaii’s in their hands, discussing the Sun’s increasing ultra violet emissions, the Earth’s four previous extinctions; and the proposed topics for the upcoming G8 Environmental Summit in Vienna.

Their intellectual levels blew her mind. Their vernacular alone made her feel inferior, making her wonder again why she was chosen to come here. She had only started her Master’s program last semester, so she felt way out of her comfort zone. As the group exited the pool to prepare the food and barbecue, she decided to give her somewhat limited intellect a break and relax on a lounge chair. As she looked up at the incomprehensible mass of brilliant stars, another lounge chair plopped next to hers. It was Salas. He kicked back with a beer in his hand.

“Dr. Salas.”

“Call me Joe. Why aren’t you with the others?”

She laughed embarrassingly and cocked her head.

“Let’s just say I’m well below their intellectual pay grade.” Salas laughed and looked at them.

“They can be geeks at times, but they’re all great people; all passionate.” He inhaled the fresh air laced with the sweet scent of Jasmine and Plumeria. “All in love with the ocean.” She turned on her side to face him and again beheld his naked masculinity. His eyes were now turned up to the stars in awe. She broke her gaze to look at them, as well.

“They’re so beautiful.”

“Yes, they are. I love it out here. It allows me to think.”

“About what?”

“About how small we are in the universe. And. . .” he trailed off and took a swig from his beer.

“And?”

“And how pathetically underdeveloped and savage our civilization must look to other intelligent life.”

She took a long sip of her cocktail from her straw.

“You believe in that? Intelligent life?”

“You don’t?” he asked abruptly, as if the question hit a nerve. “You think in all the billions of years of celestial existence; of all the billions of stars, planets and galaxies out there; this is the best the universe can produce? A planet divided and ruled by the greed and prejudice of the rich?”

“You’ve mentioned that in your books and articles, how you hate the rich.”

“I don’t hate them; I despise them.”

“You despise them?”

“I despise those who have so much wealth, yet do nothing to help the impoverished or the weak. I despise those who actively seek to destroy average citizens in order to expand their own wealth. I especially despise politicians who stroke the cocks of Wall Street bankers, billionaires, and corporate CEOs to get their financial backing.” He looked at her sternly. “That’s what you fight for, Lieutenant.” He shook his head. “That’s what you represent when you wear that uniform—a nation built on greed and paybacks lead by a Congress who don’t give a shit about the country.”

“That’s not what I fight for,” Kira answered defensively. Salas lifted his eyebrows incredulously.

“Oh yeah? So, tell me why you wear the uniform.”

“Because I couldn’t have finished college any other way. ROTC was the only way I could afford it. Plus—”

“And you know why that is, don’t you?” he intercepted. “Because educational benefits, scholarships and grants were cut by state governors looking to give themselves and the rich more tax cuts. They first started firing teachers, then raised tuition by as much as 35 percent, then the banks raised interest rates on student loans, making it almost impossible for students to attend college, let alone finish it with massive debt. And who made all this possible? Those wealthy governors who don’t give a shit about students, teachers or the working class. Do you know why, Kira? Because education is dangerous to them. People who think, who question, who reason—they will always be dangerous to them. Did you vote in the last election?”

“No. I couldn’t because of ID issues.” He laughed at her answer.

“ID issues! It’s called voter suppression. It’s a tactic to keep minorities, the elderly and students from voting. It’s all crap! The rich own the White House, the Congress, and yes, Lieutenant, the Defense Department.”

She studied his face as he looked away in disgust. Anger and frustration pumped through his veins. But despite his rant, there was something he wasn’t telling her. She stood and walked over to the cooler, retrieved two beers.

“I appreciate your passion,” she said, handing him a bottle. She now sat on the edge of the chair, facing him. “I now understand your disdain for the wealthy and our government, but can you tell me why you despise the Navy so much?”

He winced and closed his eyes, cursing himself for walking into this conversation. She sensed a deep-rooted agony in him, something that was much deeper than the legendary epic battles over naval science. He took a swig and looked at the stars again. He shook his head.

“You don’t want to go there, Kira.”

“You know, I didn’t join the Navy just to finish my degree. I did it to protect the nation, and I’m proud to wear the uniform,” she defended. “I’m proud of the honor, the traditions and the community. I’m especially proud of my field and the people I work for.” He didn’t respond. “Dr. Salas, you may be justified and proud of having the worst reputation for causing trouble for the Navy, but you wore the same uniform once. I’ve seen the pictures; I’ve read your biography, your awards, accomplishments and commendations. You wore that uniform with pride. You loved the Navy, didn’t you? Didn’t you, Commander Salas?”

He snapped his head to her, the agony now pronounced by the furrows in his brows. She suddenly stiffened, afraid that she may have said too much or crossed the line. After a moment of pause, she set her beer down and moved closer to his side.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Salas. I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.” The regret and humility in her voice caused Salas to nod his head in acceptance. She was relieved, but still sensed that there was something else within him, some dark secret that haunted him and fueled his bitterness, but she dared not venture there. This was their first meeting, after all.

He laid his head back and closed his eyes, giving her another opportunity to enjoy the view of his muscular naked body. Circuits between her legs began to fire as she let her imagination step out of its cage. Her nipples hardened and she parted her legs slightly. She could feel moisture within her hair, between her folds. She wondered why she drew no glances of attraction from Salas. She believed she was attractive. Tall at five-ten, with long taut legs; full breasts, shoulder-length blonde hair and a tight stomach of her own. The fact that she remained naked in front of all of them for hours made her confidence soar.

But it was not just Salas; none of the other men seemed to notice her natural gifts either. Was this some sort of initiation into this exclusive group? Some sort of test of self-control and temperance? Standing among the others in conversation, they must have noticed by her nipples alone that she was aroused. She wondered if they were turned off by her natural hairiness, but the other women were clearly unshaven with pubic tufts thicker and wider than hers. She glanced down at Salas again and realized that he was looking right at her. She stiffened and smiled politely.

“Okay Kira, before we eat, I need to ask you why you are here? Do you want an interview? If so, you must know that I just don’t hand them out to Navy personnel.”

“I don’t want an interview.”

He looked at her with suspicion, trying to discern what she could possibly want if not for an interview.

“Do you want to debate me about another miscalculated or otherwise stupid Navy decision that I’ve exposed to the scientific community?” His tone began to get edgy.

“No, no debate.”

“Do you want to warn me of some legal action the Navy is taking against me? Or to hand me a summons?”

“No, no legal action or summons.”

“Wait! I know. The Navy plans to buy this land and wants me to move off this property.”

“No, Commander. None of those things.” Kira’s voice dropped in tone but increased in seriousness. Salas pursed his lips in frustration. He had countless and historic public battles with the Navy, building a rock-solid foundation of support with the scientific, environmental and global protection communities. He was impervious to the accusations, threats, subpoenas, hearings and smear campaigns against him. He looked at her and saw a cloud of despair hovering over her eyes. She looked deathly worried. He sat up and turned to her so that they were face-to-face.

“Why are you here, Kira?”

“The Navy needs your help, Commander.” She looked up, expecting to see a dismissive or indifferent expression on his face, but it wasn’t there. He stared at her, patiently waiting for more information.

“We lost contact with the nuclear attack sub USS Texas about 80 miles west of Saipan five days ago. I’m afraid I don’t have any details. I wasn’t briefed about it, but I do know that the last contact made by the sub was that they were investigating an unidentified contact at 850 feet with orders to pursue, even go to test depth if necessary.”

“The Texas is a newly-modified Virginia-class. It’s test depth is around 2,000 feet. What about the Mystic? The Navy’s DSRV? It operates up to 2,000 feet. Couldn’t the Navy—”

“I’ve heard nothing of the Mystic. In fact, I’ve not been privy to much of the information on the incident. My sole purpose was to find you.”

He nodded his head in understanding.

“That’s because they know I have a deep submergence vehicle that can go to the bottom of the trench.” He looked away in contemplation. “Which makes me think that they believe the Texas is actually down in the trench.”

“The SECNAV, CNO, SUBPAC and COMPACFLT all asked for you by name. There was no one else.” He shook his head and smirked at this.

“All my enemies.”

“We have a briefing at COMNAVMAR on Monday at 1300. We’ll know everything then, I suppose.” She gently turned his face back to hers with her hand. “So, shall we expect you then?” He nodded, but his eyes were still glazed with concern.

HEY, YOU TWO! TIME TO EAT!” called one of the women setting up the picnic tables. They had all put on their swimsuits or clothes and were placing the food on the tables.

Salas remained pensive. Kira stood up and took his hand.

“Come on. Let’s go. The grilling smells wonderful.” He raised his head.

“Why you, Kira? Why did they send you all the way from WEPS when they could have sent anyone else from Hawaii, or here on Guam?”

“I asked myself that question several times already, and I think it has to do with Captain Torres.”

“Captain Tina Torres?” Salas couldn’t hide his surprise.

“That’s right. She’s a big supporter of yours; read all your books several times.” When she heard that you were going to be the focal point, she made sure that I was the one sent.”

His eyes bulged in disbelief and delight.

“You work for Captain Torres?”

“Yes, sir. Did you know she keeps a framed copy of your second dissertation “The Threat of Naval Science on Biologics” in her design lab? She also refers to your sonic tolerance calculations for her subsurface designs.”

“What!?”

“In fact, she’s memorized your calculations.”

“Oh my God!” he breathed. “I had no idea! Are you serious? Captain Torres uses my calculations? The Captain Torres?” He smiled widely as she nodded. Then she bent over and gave him a long kiss on the cheek, then held the side of his face.

“So the next time you’re trashing the Navy, you might want to think about giving us a little break. Not all of us hate you, Commander.” She squeezed his muscular shoulder. “So, are we getting dressed, or shall we dine naked?”