The Siren, the General's Daughter Book One by Breanna Hayse Page B

still?”
    “Actually, I feel totally normal now. I wonder what those blood tests are going to show. Mike?”
    “Yeah, sis?” He helped her up on the platform.
    She hugged him. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from them. They will have to go through me to get to you.”
    “Then I have nothing to fear with you covering my back,” he grinned. “Let’s go find them.”
    The two ventured over the ship before finding Scott and Dr. Quimby in the officer’s lounge sipping brandies. They jumped to their feet to embrace their young charges. Questions swarmed, too many to answer at once. Finally, Michael raised his hand. “Let us get dried off and we’ll meet you back here. Then we’ll answer all your questions. Yes, she’s fine now. Pour yourselves another drink, you’re gonna need it.”
    The two returned 30 minutes later, Michael in sweats and his sister, in all things, her Pooh Bear pajamas and fuzzy slippers. With her hair in two high ponytails, she looked like she was six years old. Her intent, Michael was certain. He had to admit, she was adorable like this, so innocent and sweet. Sitting in front of the older men, the two relayed the dive and findings, Michael speculating on the shark incident. Sam piped in with a question.
    “Mike, I need to know something. When you find me, how to you do it?”
    “That’s always been a mystery. Why?”
    “Did you catch the image of penguin when Ton was insulting us?” She eyed him closely.
    He stared for a moment before nodding. “I thought that was just a memory of what you had told me previously.”
    “No, it was either from him or me. I suspect our neurosystems are becoming more attuned to him, but I think it’s because of Ton, not us. We have no idea the extent of brain function the cetaceans have, but what if they are able to communicate with each other beyond sonar? What if he is learning to incorporate thoughts to us? I want to ask him if he will allow me to get a brain pattern study on him. He might not, he doesn’t trust land walkers.”
    “We should also do a study of Mike when trying to locate you. There has got to be a common variable here,” Scott added, interest peaking.
    Dr. Quimby rolled his eyes before draining the brandy from his glass. “Hello, people? Do you recall we just escaped another potentially fatal situation? Elevated temperature, dehydration, and hypoxia induced agitation? Resolved by what? Open water or depth? No narcosis from either of you?”
    “No Sir, the gear protects us very well. It was odd, though, she didn’t relax until we hit 300.”
    “300!” Dr. Quimby shouted, “I designed that gear for a normal dive at160 max!”
    “I, uh, did some alterations, Dad,” Michael admitted, seeing his father’s face redden. “Listen, I know I didn’t clear it, but Sam takes those depths so I need to be able to follow. It made sense.”
    “And I monitored him carefully when we experimented with it to make sure he was ok. You know I go down that deep now. Please, Daddy, don’t be mad at him. He was looking out for me, just like he promised to.” She blinked her large blue eyes at him as she climbed into his lap and kissed his rigid chin.
    Scott tapped his glass, seeing his friend’s distress, fuming as well. “Michael Scott, if you weren’t so big, I’d take a strap to your backend right this minute,” he warned. “You are really pushing us today, young man. How many times have you been told not to tinker with things without our ok? I can recall at least 5 or 6 incidents.”
    “I had to do something to keep her guarded, and you two are always so cautious. You know I would never do anything to jeopardize her, myself or the trust you have in me. Surely I’ve proven that to you,” Michael sounded a little panicked. It wasn’t like him to get defensive, but then, he rarely got himself in this type of predicament.
    “I think we need a visit to the gym,” Dr. Quimby growled, glaring at his son.
    His daughter popped off his