Madeleine's POV

At the crack of dawn, Milo leaned over the edge of the boat and vomited as the ship's horn was blown. I rubbed his back slowly, glancing out at the open sea. "Carrots. Why is there always carrots? I didn't even eat carrots." Milo muttered, gagging again.

I handed him a handkerchief and he wiped his mouth, thanking me. I marveled at our surroundings, "The ocean is beautiful at this time of the morning." I stretched my arms out along the railing. "It is." Milo agreed. We enjoyed the serenity of the waves until an announcement from the speakers was broadcasted.

"Attention. All hands to the launch bay. To whoever took the 'L' from the motor pool sign, ha ha, we are all very amused."

Milo grabbed his bag and my hand, and lead the way. Once inside, we approached a very familiar face. "Excuse me?" We need to, uh, report in," Milo said. "Yes, Mr Thatch?" the one and only Helga Sinclair turned to face us.

"Ah! I-It's you-!" I stammered.

"Blondie! I got a bone to pick with you!" a small man interrupted as a crane lowered the cargo crates he was sitting on. "Hold that thought," Helga told us as she rolled her eyes and went to the small man. "What is it this time, Cookie?"

"You done stuffed my wagon full to bustin' with non-essentials. Look at all this," Cookie grabbed a crate and began pulling out ingredients. "Cinnamon, oregano, cilantro. What in the cockadoodle is cilantro?" he tossed the crate away and shattering glass could be heard. (I can hear this scene😂.)

"And what is this?" he held up a lettuce. "That would be lettuce," answered Helga. "Lettuce? Ugh- lettuce?" Cookie replied with a revolted expression. "It's a vegetable Cookie." Helga snatched it out of his hand.  "The men need the four basic food groups."

"I got your four basic food groups!" Cookie held up three fingers. "Beans, bacon, whiskey and lard!" I immediately thought about the diner back home. They had good food and for some reason, I was not looking forward to eating Cookie's cooking.

"I miss the diner food already," I whispered. "Yeah me too," Milo whispered back with a scrunched nose. We were startled by the sudden blaring of an alarm. "Alright cowboy, pack it up and move out," Helga ordered Cookie, shoving him backwards.

"Attention. All hands to the launch bay. Final loading in progress."

Milo and I followed the dozens of soldiers to the elevator. We were taken to the launch bay and both of us couldn't help gawking at the gigantic submarine which was called the Ulysses. "Wow! It's magnificent" I exclaimed. "Hey, junior," a voice said as a trolley got pushed into Milo's back.

We both turned around. "If you're looking for the money rides, they're back there." "E-Excuse me?" Milo called after him. "You dropped your, uh, dy-dynamite." The man pulled his truck back, taking the red stick off of Milo. "What else have you, uh, got in there?"

"Oh, you know, gunpowder, nitroglycerin, notepad, fuses, wicks, glue, ehhh, paper clips. Big ones." He gestured the size with his hands.
"Just office supplies," he shrugged. He quickly left.

"Milo! Mads! Where you been?"
Mr. Whitmore approached. "I want you two to meet Commander Rourke. He led the Iceland team that brought the journal back,"

"Milo and Madeleine Thatch," the Commander acknowledged. Milo and I practically dropped our bags in order to shake hands with him. "Pleasure to finally meet the grandchildren of old Thaddeus." "I see you two got that journal. Nice pictures but I prefer a good western myself," Rourke turned back to us.

"Pretty impressive, eh?"
Mr. Whitmore nudged Milo's arm. "Boy, when you settle a bet, you.. you settle a bet" Milo chuckled. "Well, your grandad always believed you couldn't put a price on the pursuit of knowledge" Mr. Whitmore reckoned.

"Well uh, believe me, this'll be a small change compared to the value of what we're gonna learn on this trip" I smiled. "Yes, this should be enriching for all of us," Rourke agreed.

"Attention to all personal. The launch commences in fifteen minutes."

"Mr. Whitmore," the commander nodded in respect before turning and leaving. "Goodbye, Mr. Whitmore!" I yelled with a smile over my shoulder as I waved, trying to catch up to the commander at the same time.
Milo quickly did the same thing.

"Bye Mr Whitmore!" Milo waved.

"Make us proud, boy!" Mr. Whitmore called out. The door slammed shut and with that, the adventure begins. The submarine was submerged in the water and poor little me was unsure of what to expect. Perhaps that's the reason why I could not stop fidgeting (Or maybe it was my ADHD.).

Milo and I stood at the large window at the front of the submarine with our hands on the glass and me on my tiptoes. Then, like the gentleman he is, Milo walked me to my room. "Just so you know, I'm down the hall if you need me." Milo noted. "Thanks." I replied, before standing on my tiptoes to give him a peck on the cheek.

Third Person POV

"You must be Mr. Thatch's granddaughter I've heard about,"
Audrey Ramirez said to Madeleine who settled on the bottom bunk. "Yes. That's right." Madeleine replied. The two girls began chatting and despite not having much in common, they got on really well.

"Have you noticed that it's particularly smoky in here?" Madeleine swiped her hand at the grey mist. "Mrs. Packard smokes a million times a day. She shares our room but Helga has her own," Audrey explained.

As for Madeleine's brother, he was being shoved out of his room, his coat on his head and bag stuffed in his hands. The short man in the thick coat and odd glasses - or whatever they were - didn't stop pushing, not even when Milo ran straight into a solid object. He moved his coat, gulping at the tall, strong physique in front of him.

"Uh oh," He said, raising an eyebrow, "Sat in the dirt, didn't you?
Moliere, what've I told you about playing nice with the other kids?" The short man merely huffed. The short man merely huffed. The second raised a bar of soap, causing
'Moliere' to hiss. "Get back, I've got soap - and I'm not afraid to use it."

As Mole scrambled away, the man whipped Mole's butt with his towel.
"Back to the pit from which you came!" the man exclaimed. Mole climbed onto his bed, hid under the covers and switched on the little lamp that was a part of his helmet.

"The names Sweet," the man introduced. He wrapped his towel back around his muscular shoulders before shaking Milo's hand. "Joshua Sweet. Medical officer," Sweet said as he walked over to his belongings.

"Yeah, Milo Thatch," replied the linguist. "Milo Thatch. You're my
3:00," Sweet quickly dressed in his medical attire and pulled out a saw.
"Well, no time like the present."

"Oh boy." Milo mumbled.

"Nice isn't it? The catalogue says that this little beauty can saw through a femur in 28 seconds. I'm bettin' I can cut that time in half. Now stick out your tongue and say 'Ah'.''

"Oh no, really," Milo began to politely refuse "I have a- ah!" Regardless, Dr Sweet forced the stick against Milo's tongue. "So, where you from?"

Milo babbled an indecipherable response. "Really? I have family up that way," Sweet swapped the stick for a thermometer and then used his stethoscope to listen to Milo's heartbeat. "Beautiful country up there. Do you do any fishing?"

Milo mumbled a second, incoherent response. "Me? I hate fishing. I hate fish. Hate the taste, hate the smell, and hate all them little bones." Sweet then lifted up two large jugs "Here, I'm gonna need you to fill these up."

Milo spat the thermometer out.
"With what?!"

Luckily, he was saved by the an announcement.

"Will Milo and Madeleine
Thatch please report to the bridge?"

"Thank you," he whispered but just in case Dr Sweet heard, Milo came up with "I mean, uh, nice meeting you," whilst rubbing his neck.

"Uh huh, nice meeting you too,"
Sweet replied but Milo had already run out of the room.