On most days, life fifteen hundred feet below sea level is peaceful, predictable even. This isn't one of those days . . .

"I just want to go on record and say that I respectfully disagree with this decision, sir," Ray's voice breathlessly crackles through my earpiece.

I laugh. "Noted."

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself because this may be the last stunt your father can get your sorry ass out of," he continues, sounding more like the guy I've known all my life.

I almost laugh again when I realize he's right. Shit. In the excitement of the chase, I totally forgot it's my birthday. The big one-eight. From now on, I'll be responsible for my own actions, just like every other remaining adult on Vanguard. So I'm going to have to make this mission count. And I need my wingman's cooperation to do it.

"Irrelevant. Bigger risk; bigger reward. This catch will feed a couple of thousand people, maybe even half the station. The extra effort is more than worth it. So I'd appreciate your full support, Lieutenant."

"Roger that." It's clear from his tone that Ray's finally on board. Now that I've realized the implications of a failed objective, I also get back to business.

The hunt started out as usual with the two of us taking our Skippers to scout for resources. We quickly widened our perimeter because even at this depth - after more than two decades of fishing the same waters - the local bounty had been depleted. That's when we came upon the biggest oarfish either of us had even seen. It was at least twenty feet, making it about the length of our submersible crafts. We followed it west for a few miles before I released my harpoon for the first time.

It missed by a foot to the right.

We cruised along the ocean floor and several miles later I tried again. This time the shot grazed the dorsal fin, but not enough to secure it. I was about to go for lucky number three when a gigantic Bluefin tuna came out of nowhere. Dwarfing the slim oarfish, it must have weighed close to three thousand pounds.

"Whoa," we said in unison.

The fish was beautiful and I knew that I had to bag it. That's when Ray's objections began. He thought it was beyond the size we're authorized to pursue, but now that he's agreed to follow my lead, I turn full throttle after the new target.

Flinging its massive tail back and forth, the tuna criss-crosses in front of me, making it impossible to lock on. I'm going to have to drive it toward the reef, closer to shore, and force it into a better position.

Twenty minutes later, I'm ready to take another shot and it hits its mark. But the tuna isn't going down without a fight. The massive fish - with the harpoon sticking out of its back - pulls the line off the spool until there's nothing left to give. Nothing, but me in the small and suddenly very vulnerable craft, sitting five hundred feet below sea level.

"Are you sure about this, man?" Ray breaks the silence as the Skipper is dragged forward.

I laugh nervously. "Do or die, right?"

"Uhm, no. Do or don't do are actually your two choices right now. You can still release the line."

In the back of my mind, I know he's right. But instead of letting the fish go, I speed up. The extra slack in the line just encourages it, and it continues to pull my Skipper forward. My heart's beating in my throat, but then I get an idea. Telling Ray to circle around to face the fish, my catch will have no choice but to slow and change directions. Whether it goes right or left is not important. Either way, Ray can easily spear it from the side, thus ending the chase and letting us go home to a hero's welcome.

Yeah, I should have known it wasn't going to be that easy.

As soon as the beast is faced with an obstacle, it doesn't turn right or left, nor does it slow down. Instead, the giant Bluefin shoots straight up, taking a vertical trajectory towards the surface. I have about three seconds before it'll pull the line between us taut, dragging my vessel after it.

I totally waste all three of them.

I'm so surprised by what just happened that I sit at the controls dumbfounded. It's Ray who breaks me out of my stupor.

"Cut the line, Wilhelm!" he yells, but it's too late. My body's slammed backward into the seat, ramming the yoke against my chest as the craft tries to resist the pull. I shift the engines into reverse to counteract the acceleration, but they sputter ominously against the strain. To avoid stalling, I return them to normal propulsion and slowly increase speed. The numbers on my depth gauge decrease incrementally, quickly counting down from five hundred.

"Cut the line! Cut. The damn. Line!" Ray continues, but approaching three hundred feet, I'm still fully determined to take home this prize. Even as we pick up momentum, I feel like I can somehow prevail. Resisting didn't help, so I'm going to try to overtake him. I push the accelerator forward and watch the gauge. Meanwhile, the decreased pressure blurs my vision. 275 feet. 250 feet. 200 feet. 100 feet. The numbers get smaller quicker until I'm almost on him. I can see his beady little fish-eye practically goading me.

"Where are you at, Stingray?" I check in with my wingman, anticipating needing his help again soon.

"Caught in a rip, sir! I can be at your position in two."

Great. What am I supposed to do with this fish for two more minutes? We'll be breaking the surface in twenty seconds at this rate.

Left with no alternative, I reverse the engines again. Hopefully it'll buy enough time for Ray to catch-up. But neither the complete vertical position of my craft, nor how quickly I try to slow it down sit well with the Skipper. A total blackout in the cabin signals I've lost power and successfully stalled the engines. "Well, shit."

Even though I'm dead in the water, I keep ascending. My harpoon's still stuck in the tuna's back and he's on a mad dash toward freedom, which in this case is directly above us.

Above us. My God, he's taking me to the surface! While this realization sinks in, I'm wasting precious seconds that mean I'm getting dozens of feet closer to possible death!

Clink. I detach the line connecting me to the fish. I'm going to have to remember to thank the engineers who designed this thing for making that function completely mechanical, otherwise I'd be totally screwed. But even though I'm no longer tethered to the tuna, the Skipper keeps on rising. I look up through the glass canopy above me and watch as the light filtering through the ocean gets brighter and brighter. Checking my watch, I see it's three in the afternoon. Even without leaving my craft, I could get a lethal dose of radiation within ten minutes.

If I can last that long.

I'm already starting to feel the effects of not having a working air filtration system. Not only is it getting hot in the cabin, but also I'm now using a very limited supply of air. Awesome. I may get to choose which way I'll die: agony of suffocation or misery of radiation poisoning.

I always hoped one day I'd be able to feel the sun on my face and breathe fresh air, but this wasn't the way I had imagined. Not at the price of dying for it.

I continue fiddling with the buttons to try to restart the engine, but it's in vain; the Skipper keeps floating closer to the top. I can't even bitch at Ray for getting to me sooner because the radio's out, too. Since he hasn't shown, I'm guessing he's still battling that rip tide that pulled him away. With my fingers going numb from squeezing the controls, I rattle the yoke in a last-ditch attempt, but it's no use.

Well, that's that, folks. I can start the countdown to my demise. Not many people get that chance, so maybe that should make me feel better. It doesn't, but what the hell. I'm going to do it anyway. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one-and-a-half, one-and-a-quarter . . . I think I started too early. And—

"Aaargh!" I'm screaming as the Skipper's nose breaks the surface. The craft balances on its rear for a fraction of a second before dropping horizontally onto its belly. The splash and waves it generates momentarily obscure everything, and I struggle to adjust my eyes to looking at the world above water for the first time.

It's darker than I expected. I can see silhouettes in the distance, but I'm not feeling any warmth I had prepared for. Above my glass cockpit, I find the source of the light and let out a sigh of relief.

It's the moon. It's a perfect circle and it has an almost bluish glow, emanating its rays across the cloudless sky. I want to memorize every little detail - how its craters cast shadows or how the edges fade out into the pitch-black night - since I don't know when or if I'll ever have this opportunity again.

It really was naïve of me to assume that our time below the ocean would be synchronized to the world above, but I'm so glad that it isn't. Perhaps I won't die today, after all.

Because I don't have to worry about the sun, my only threat is running out of air. I promise myself that I'm not opening up the canopy without knowing the air quality. I'll only risk it as a last ditch effort.

If I do make it out of here, I'm going to have to swear Ray to secrecy about me breaking the surface. I'll have enough of a backlash with putting a Skipper out of commission without also violating the most important section of the Amended Maritime Code.

When there's nothing more I can observe about the moon, I turn my attention back to the dark shapes I noticed earlier. They're actually not that far off, less than a mile or so. One blocky building in particular sticks out. It stands in a large clearing, only bordered by what look to be trees on one side.

The sky. The moon. Trees. All things I've just read about in books and seen in pictures. Until now.

I really should have broken regulations much sooner.

Thud. The Skipper rattles and I'm hoping it's just Ray arriving to anchor our crafts together. Another possibility is that the Bluefin has returned to take his revenge. When the lights and ventilation return, my hunch is confirmed. I also hear the communications channel come back online, just as a flash of light from shore catches my eye.

"Stingray to Wilhelm. Systems check requested, sir."

I stare at the cluster of dark trees, hoping to catch another glimpse of the light. Nothing. Maybe I just imagined it.

"Will, is everything all right over there?" Ray asks.

"Roger that. Systems . . .." I trail off because there it is again. This time, I see a succession of blinks before darkness envelops the entire shoreline. I have to stall Ray on the off chance they'll reappear. "Uhm, systems check in progress," I say distractedly, flipping switches and pressing buttons as slowly as I can.

"Electronics, hydraulics, and navigation are all a-go." I'm nearly finished stalling when the blinking resumes. One longer flash, a brief pause, followed by two or three quick blinks. There's definitely something on shore and I wish I could share this discovery with Ray, but our frequency is monitored and I can't risk it. I'm lucky enough that my friend has the presence of mind to avoid saying anything to reveal I'm topside.

"Propulsion's down. Looks like I blew the engine so you'll have to give me a tow," I say.

* * *

The trip back to base is painfully slow. What should have taken less than an hour turns out to be twice as long as I sit helplessly watching the back of Ray's craft. It doesn't help my restlessness that I can see Vanguard from miles away. Although at this depth there's no natural light, the three hundred fifty foot tall spherical structure is illuminated and can't be missed.

Designed for space, it's been modified for sustaining life underwater. It's the only home many of us have ever known.

A real engineering marvel, it's broken into twelve wedges - six are solid and six are empty - as well as an inner core. The solid wedges don't extend all the way to the core, leaving it all very open and allowing currents to pass between the pieces. Tied with cables to weighed pillars, it floats above the ocean floor. The core contains most of the functions needed to run the entire thing, while the rest houses rooms and common areas for the residents. A single-level band runs around the equator of the sphere, not only connecting all of the wedges in the center, but also containing the maintenance and storage docks for each of the Skippers.

Ray positions my craft under one of these bays and unhooks the tether, letting it drift upward. My mechanic is already waiting for me. "What did you do to her this time?" the burly man asks as I climb out.

I smile. He knows me too well. "Well, there was this rip and I—"

"Yeah, yeah." He waves me off. "I don't care what you did, just what ya broke!"

All right. Keep it simple. "The engine stalled."

"Aye," he grumbles and I can't tell whether that's just a confirmation of the information or if he's genuinely upset.

Even though his hands sometimes shake uncontrollably, Dunstan's the best mechanic on board. He can fix anything as long as he's got the parts, but that's been an increasing problem with the Skippers. While initially there were one hundred eighty of them, we've got fewer than half left after more than two decades of continuous use. The inoperable ones have also been stripped bare and we can't risk putting any more out of commission since they're our only way to find food.

"Sorry. I promise to take care of her next time," I say. I escape into the hallway to meet up with Ray, who's hurrying toward me. Finally, I can tell him about the lights. "You will not believe what I saw—"

He cuts me off and ushers me into the elevator. "It'll have to wait. The Commander wants to see us on the quarterdeck RFN."

That grabs my attention. "Woo-hoo! I'm getting my promotion," I tease. Not that I have anything against Ray, but I've been looking forward to this day ever since I started pilot training three years ago.

"Yeah, well don't start celebrating just yet," he says.

"Why?" I turn to him. "What did you tell him?"

"Nothing, man. I just have a weird feeling, that's all." He holds his wrist to the scanner and when the light turns green, he presses the button for the thirtieth floor.

I take the moment to silently wish for cake at the celebration. It's unlikely, since not only do we not have access to any wheat, but we also don't have sugar, milk, or any eggs. I suppose some of it could be technically grown in our hydroponics lab, but those facilities are reserved for cultivating herbs to season our never-ending menu of seafood, as well as to make medicines. But I suppose there's no harm in wishing as we're whisked fifteen stories toward the top of the core, eventually stopping at the quarterdeck.

As the elevator doors open, I see that although there's no cake, my sister and her wingman Cory are both already lined up in the center of the room. Because it's Ellen's birthday too, this is definitely about our promotions.

"It's about time, gentlemen." The voice echoes from above as Ray and I take our places next to the girls. Commander August Lamer is on the far side of the catwalk that runs along the perimeter of the semi-circular room two stories above us. He steps into a paternoster and rides it down to our level.

"I've had to dismiss everyone else due to your lateness, Lieutenants. As we had already scheduled today's ceremony, I didn't want to delay rewarding two of you for your excellent contribution to our maritime fleet." He steps to the girls and addresses them. "Since you were actually on time, I'd like to start with you, Magellan."

I try my hardest not to snicker, but the call sign she chose for herself still makes me laugh for its pretentiousness. It doesn't escape the Commander's attention.

"Something funny, Wilhelm?" he asks.

"No, sir!" I snap to attention.

"Then show some respect for your sister. You may actually learn something."

Haven't I heard that one before? As twins we'll always be compared to each other, even though we're nothing alike. Well, almost nothing. I mean we're both extremely attractive, but the similarities end there. She's short, blonde, and conscientious, while I'm none of those.

"Yes, sir!" I feign enthusiasm, winking to Ray when the Commander's back is to me.

"As I was saying, Lieutenant Ellen Scott turned eighteen today and not only is it my pleasure to wish you a very happy birthday, but also to elevate you to the rank of Lieutenant-Commander." He pulls out a star-shaped pin from his pocket and affixes it to her lapel. "Congratulations, Lieutenant-Commander."

"Thank you, sir!" She beams and my heart starts racing at the thought that I'm up next. I straighten my shoulders, but suddenly I'm very aware of a large suckerfish that's attached itself to the glass wall directly in front of us. Meanwhile, the Commander has turned to me and Ray.

"You're maritime officers, gentlemen. Part soldier, part fisherman, part scientist. Through this prestigious position, you are expected to act with dignity, courage, and humility. Lieutenant Will Scott definitely exhibited one of those today. I must say that you are not lacking in courage," he says to me.

I draw myself taller and grin at the compliment. This is good. Even the suckerfish looks like he's in on the conversation with his lips pulled into a big smile.

The Commander isn't done and he continues. "However, until you master the other two necessary qualities of a senior officer under my command, you are hereby stripped of your rank and barred from manning a vessel."

I blink in confusion. What just happened? Did he just say what I think he said? He couldn't have - the fish is still smiling! But I'd better make sure. "Permission to speak, sir."

He nods. "Go ahead."

"Sir, I thought you said you'd be handing out two promotions. Since Ellen and I are the only ones who've reached the required age—"

"Yes, I know what I said, and I am very aware of the regulations since I helped write them. However, because of my position, I am allowed to make exceptions."

He pulls another shiny star from his pocket. "So because I have two of these to give away today, I've decided to award the second promotion to Lieutenant-Commander based not solely on age, but rather for merit. Lieutenant Raymond Brunelle, you have proven yourself to be a trustworthy and responsible partner and therefore, I feel that you are ready to go solo. Congratulations, Lieutenant-Commander."

Saying I'm disappointed is an understatement. And not only did I lose out on the promotion, I got my privileges taken away. Nice birthday this is turning into.

My sister glances at me with a self-satisfied smirk. I have to remember to get her back for that later, but now I'd rather just get out of here so I can tell Ray what I saw topside. Luckily, the Commander's had enough of us as well and he promptly dismisses us. Ellen and Cory head for the elevator to Tower One so I steer Ray toward the one heading to Two.

"My star looks good on you." I frown.

"Whatever, man." He shrugs. "It was yours to lose and you know it."

Only after we step inside and the door closes do I get to it. "You're not going to believe this, but I think there are other survivors. People, I mean - living above ground. And you know what? We're going to find them."