"He looks like an ACA attendee to me, but this is a bit more dangerous than boffer swords by the look of it," Joseph drawled as the engine noise steadily rose. They went back to port with little trouble, the other ships were staying out in a desperate bid for data.

The presence of human remains was radioed ahead so they were greeted by the authorities. Bureaucratic sea mammals were weird in terms of how to handle them. Dead bodies were much more clear cut. At least that is the inference from the two law enforcement vehicles, one van and one patrol car.

"You know what the legal system's like around here?" Joseph asked as the ship was secured to the dock.

America took the time to dress back in her casual attire, so she was ready when they met the cops. "Pretty sure they're more chill than American cops. At least, I don't think Driving While Mexican is a capital crime here."

Dr. Salazar smiled at the vehicles in the port, standing at the top of the debarkation ramp and acting as if nothing was amiss - which it really shouldn't be. She planned to speak English, at least at first - because if they didn't know she was fluent in Portuguese, they might let something drop.

"Yeah, no country ever finds it easier to foist blame on foreigners without the money to effectively defend themselves," Joseph replied, "Have fun."

The police started with Portuguese, it worked with about a third of the researchers. Still, two officers to take eight statements meant no one was going to leave in a hurry. It actually took more than an hour before they took possession of the body and armor.

It looked like they saved America's statement for last, so that both officers could be present. Two or three of the other researchers were a few yards away, finished but wanting to stay as a group.

"Hello Dr. Salazar," the younger looking officer greeted her, "I'm Detective Monteiro, this is sergeant Sousa. We do apologize but any time a body turns up we have some due diligence. Would you like to start?"

Well, if America was speaking last, there was no point in the no-speekee-Portuguese gambit. So she responded in their language.

"I completely understand. As you know, we were out there to study the developing situation in the Triangle. I've recently been making progress in deciphering the Common Porpoise and Bottlenose Dolphin languages at UCLA, and so I decided to go out into the zone underwater and attempt to establish communication. It took some effort, and while I was at it, I went to the center of the zone to see if there was some kind of hierarchical leader who was influencing things."

She skipped over the part where she swam out. That might add a little more weird than the officers wanted, though someone else had probably told them. Let them imagine a submersible or something.

"I didn't find any leader of the pack, but I did find this guy uncovered on the bottom. I'm no archaeologist but he looks to be a Bronze Age soldier of some kind." She shrugged. "No idea what he was doing there or whether he had anything to do with the whales suddenly founding a country of their own in Portuguese territorial waters, but I figured that the archaeologists would want to examine, date, et cetera the body. So after I established negotiations with the cetaceans and got them to agree to stop hunting ships, I brought him up for delivery."

This was against America's Miranda reflexes, but the Doctor hadn't been told she was being charged or suspected of anything, and dead skeleton or not, there wasn't even a hint of anything anyone could charge her with unless someone very badly wanted her taken down.

"I'm not sure that bones from the Bronze Age would still be intact, or how they'd end up here," Monteiro mused as he wrote on a notepad, "Don't suppose you left a buoy or other marker? We can approximate the center but without a very precise latitude and longitude we probably won't find the spot."

He closed his notes and slipped them into a pocket with a sigh.

"We are asking everyone who was aboard the vessel to stay in country for the next four days, just giving our medical examiner and other evidence assessment types a chance to get preliminary findings," he told America, "No one wants the awkwardness of trying to coordinate questions across country and continental lines. Believe me, better the days of hassle now than months of it later. Is there anything we can do for you?"

America shrugged at the comment on the bones, then thought for a moment. The fact was, the Zone had been a perfect circle, which meant she easily found the center and gave a precise longitude and latitude, down to seconds, to the officers. "There's a washed-out impact crater down there, along with some other debris like an anchor."

Omniscient Scholar used to solve a basic math problem.

"Ooh. A paid vacation by the beach, everything charged to my expense account, and I don't even need to use my vacation time because it's work-related," said America with a teasing little grin. "Happy to help, really. I have phone and email if you need them."

Monteiro paused in thought for a moment.

"No, really doesn't matter how you know the site so exactly. Thanks for that, it'll be a few hours before anyone gets out there," he told her, "As for the enforced vacation can I interest you in dinner? We rip off tourists outrageously."

Sousa elbowed his superior sharply.

"The offer extends to all of researchers and crew of the ship of course," he added with a wince.

America gave Sousa a quick, thankful smile and then nodded to Monteiro. "Yes, that sounds like an excellent idea. We should all celebrate a successful job."

Any of the researchers who came would make excellent chaperones and keep it from turning into a date.

"My card, we'll meet you all at the hotel in two hours," Monteiro said as he proffered the small piece of pasteboard to America.

"Shooooweeer," Joseph called out in an exaggeratedly nasal whine, "We all smell like gasoline and algae."

Sousa's eyes flicked up slightly in acknowledgement of her thanks before taking Monteiro's elbow and moving them back towards the patrol car.

"So, I mostly said it because he was about to start undressing you with his eyes but I really would prefer not to mix how we smell with any decent food," Joseph said as they drove away

America took the card and concealed it, then headed off with Joseph and laughed. "It's a refreshing scent, really. A lot better than I smell after a day in the Los Angeles heat!" She laughed. "But thanks. Yeah, a hot shower would be really nice about now, and then we can have a big dinner on his dime and he'll get absolutely nothing out of it." She winked at Joseph. "Glad to have you along, by the way. I'm still getting used to being on the professors' side of the bar, and you've been a great help."

"I was a graduate student for eight years. Turns out I have a deviated septum, can't dive," Joseph told her cheerfully, "So I've been playing politics with PhDs since before you were an undergrad. It's like high school with bald spots."

Their hotel accommodations were utilitarian rather than luxurious. Still, showers were showers and half the building was taken up by expedition members and staff. Even a long shower would give America an hour or two to kill as she liked.

"Yeah. At least we survived this mission, so that's something. And we accomplished our porpoise." That pun would never die.

Once in her room, America took a long, hot shower indeed - though she didn't need the towel to dry off, she could just direct the water to begone. However, she had plenty to occupy the time before dinner. After all, she now had material for publication, and that meant writing, paperwork, and half an hour budgeted for quality nap time. (She was indeed a hard worker.)

Once everything was taken care of, she changed into a Nice Suit for dinner and got ready to head out. Had to appear presentable to the local police.

Her pun drew the mandatory groan from Joseph as he headed to his own room.

Four of her colleagues turn up for the meal. Two went business casual, one older fellow was full borderline tuxedo, and Joseph dared to wear sandals with his slacks and polo.

When Sousa and Monteiro turned up they looked exactly like what they were. Off duty cops. Monteiro was a bit annoyed by the crowd but kept his word and played gastronomic tour guide. Four blocks away they arrived at an unmarked building that turned out to be something like a pub, a bit like a bistro, and probably all at least a century old.

The place smelled of cheese, olive oil, and spices.

Seating broke up the party into a table of three and another of four. Unsurprisingly America ended up with both of the police.

America took her seat, mildly amused at the other researchers' distance but giving the cops a broad smile. "Good afternoon."

She ordered a sherry for the aperitif and smiled blandly at the officer who she knew was trying to X-ray her jacket. She made a mental note - stay polite, stay friendly, leave him with the check and nothing that he actually wants.

(America can trivially get the table of four if she wants another researcher on hand)

The meal proceeded smoothly, wine and appetizers and fresher ingredients than you could get anywhere outside a farmer's market. America gathered that Sousa was family with the owners, a smattering of cousins dropped by off and on to chat. For more than an hour it's polite chat and almost pro-forma flirting from Monteiro, mostly muzzled by his theoretical subordinate.

"So, Queen of Atlantis?" the detective asked as dessert was produced, as casually as someone asking about their favorite ice cream flavor.

(Nah, just found it humorous.)

America appeared not to notice the flirting, though in truth she was grateful for the chaperone. So she made small talk, and then he asked a serious question.

"I have some water powers, yes, but I wouldn't call myself a queen of anything yet," said America. "Nothing to put me in the Justice League. I can swim decently, and I managed to talk with the cetaceans. They were quite reasonable once I managed that."

"Fair. So no Kraken sightings and everything should be good," Monteiro agreed.

"But that means we have to ask about the body. One of your," Sousa seemed to hunt for the word, "Colleagues? The nomenclature escapes me."

America shrugged. "Yeah. Though if I'm not wrong, Japan might be in some danger if the whales stay organized. I understand they don't like being hunted."

That, I can't tell you any more than I already have," she said. "Like I said, I found an armored skeleton in a crater on the seafloor. It looked out of place, so I brought it to those who could handle it. If it came from a powered individual, that might explain some of the weirdness out there."

"The problem is that, prior to your arrival, no such individuals were known to be active here," Sousa told her, "Which raises the question of not just who they were but what they were doing in our territory that got them killed."

"Sousa makes a terrible Scully so we were hoping to be wrong," Monteiro added, "Well, there isn't much ground to suspect you of murder according to the coroner so there may be follow up questions but I doubt we could hold you even if we wanted to."

America chuckled. "There's always an explanation, but sometimes that explanation is 'a wizard did it.'" She smiled and finished her meal. "However, there was probably some kind of power involved in organizing the sea creatures, and our friend was quite literally smack dab in the middle of it. There's a connection somewhere, but damned if I can tell you what."

She pulled out a pen and wrote down her work email on one of the napkins. "If you need followup interviews after I return home, and if I'm still awake in the middle of the night when you need to talk to me." Europeans. They all lived standing on their heads.

"Thank you," Sousa says as he pocketed the note, "Don't suppose we can interest you in citizenship? Some are getting nervous at the number of demigods coming out of America."

"Thank you, but I enjoy my life in America. Warts and all." America shrugged. "I might reconsider after the next election, though." It was a joke...she hoped.

She looked down at her empty plate. "Ahh. Thank you for the meal."

"Of course. Please let us know if you should change your mind," he offered, "When do you plan to depart?"

"Probably tomorrow. I should be getting back to the University and writing up my journal articles to satisfy the publish-or-perish requirements."

"I am curiously certain it will not be much of a limiting factor on your career," Sousa told her as he stood, "If it turns out the armor is not of historic or cultural significance you'll be entitled to the salvage. We'll entrust your friends to your own good graces."

His partner also rose.

"Be well."