Whaling is a dying industry for the most part. Oh, several countries keep at it while offering paper thin denials or excuses. A few remote groups still engage in it as a traditional rite. Still, most human threats to cetaceans in the modern era are side effects rather than deliberate.

So when a pod of whales seemed to self-organize and batter a billionaire's yacht to pulp near the Azores no one really noticed. He had insurance and the thing was a gauche raft, good riddance.

When they started attacking any ship that entered a seventy nautical mile radius people grew slightly less sanguine. Then the original pod was joined by dolphins. At this point everyone is sailing wide around the spot, even armored navy ships take a battering when they tried to push through.

The nature raising its fist to man narrative has gone viral. America's first sabbatical lined up with the formation of an international research effort. It's a bit outside her niche but there's going to be dozens of papers about these events, assuming it doesn't turn into another 'wizard did it'.

So she ranks a spot on the smallest of the seven research vessels a nautical mile outside the guarded zone. There's a hundred and two researchers of different stripes spread across the small fleet. Everyone is ready to make their careers, except every one of them has at least on PhD and thus there are three hundred and eight opinions on how to proceed. No clear chain of command or proper planning has left them loudly getting nothing done for two days now.

America was the most junior scientist on the boat, and the freshly-minted doctor knew that her opinion wouldn't carry much weight among her distinguished fellows yet. In fact, her position clearly came with the expectation that she was (still) in charge of the vital core task of getting the coffee. So for the most part, she'd been quietly taking notes - but that wasn't helping the team forward. So at the risk of injecting yet more gas into the discussion, she finally spoke up properly.

"Why don't we try talking to them?" she asked, hoping that the inane suggestion would get everyone to shut up for a moment. "Okay, so listen. Me and some friends mayyy have cracked a little of Tursiops' verbal communication in the line of work - we're holding off on publishing until we have more to show. At least enough to say hello." She looked around, talking quickly. "Did someone assign an aircraft to this mission? The first thing I want to do is drop a sonar buoy just within the Zone to find our finny friends and maybe draw them into vocal range. Once that's done, I want to whistle to them, tell them 'buenas tardes', and see if I can establish communication." The vocal range of a whistle over water carried well over a mile, fortunately.

America figured she could just strip down to her bikini, jump in the water and say hi, but she didn't want to be so overtly supernatural that she was swimming the North Atlantic yet. And if things got nasty, she'd prefer not to be attacked by a big honking humpback. So instead, she went ahead with trying to bullshit the other brains she was working with.

Tursiops, of course, is the genus name for the bottlenose dolphin.

Five doctors are in hearing range of America's suggestion and, surprisingly, actually seem willing to hear her out.

"There is a whirly-bird on standby," the second youngest researcher, a man named Joseph with a military buzz cut and no discernable neck, tells her, "But getting out here and back means limited cargo."

The implication is obvious, it's the same fight as on the ships about who goes first and each of them wanting to be on hand to baby their equipment.

This argument has to happening on each of the ships, so even if she got this crew to agree the other six will doubtless have settled on their own solution. Years in academia has shown her two standard strategies taught to aspiring researchers for these deadlocks.

Lock everyone in a room together and let them shout it out. Or just do it and let them fume.

America nodded. "Right. Well, the only instruments we can drop right now are the expendable ones, so that rules out most possibilities." Not waiting for the others to get their act together, she went up to the head of the ship and spoke. "We have an idea. Can we have the helicopter drop a single sonobuoy into the water just inside the exclusion zone?" asked America. "We need to find out where the whales and dolphins are."

It was just a single flight mission and one expendable buoy, so America didn't see too much of a problem ordering it on her own. Worst came to worst, she could bill it to a UCLA grant.

"Haven't been on too many joint projects yet," Joseph said in quiet amusement.

There is immediate kvetching about wasting the aviation fuel for a single buoy, whose buoy it would be, who got to drop it, and a thousand petty fights for status. Joseph comes in on America's side, as does a sun burned dual-doctorate named Zeller, which is a plurality rather than a majority.

Charisma Check to talk enough of them into it (this is the proper way but All Generals No Sergeants so far), convincing the helicopter crew on land to do what she wants is another option but would take bluffing about her actual authority. The nuclear option is stepping away from the ad-hoc organization and just paying for a smaller ship with fewer resources that didn't require all the bartering. Other options as you can imagine.

America mentally held back her sigh. Great, just what she needed, a bunch of grown men acting like kindergarteners. Was this how a Ph.D spent her life? No wonder her advisor had turned into an asshole.

"Please, everyone," she said, then looked back at the whiteboard. At least they had a whiteboard in here - low-tech or not, it was good for putting up figures fast. So she took a blue marker and wrote out the costs, down to the cent. One expendable sonobuoy, one fifteen-minute flight. "We have different ideas for what we need to do with this data, but we all want to know where the whales are, and this is the cheapest way to locate them. So why don't we just split the check and have the data belong to all of us? To be honest, this is something the grad students would have taken care of if we had any along." She grinned. She was closer to being a grad student than she was to some of her alleged peers here.

Hopefully, she could get everyone to agree that this particular mission was basic groundwork, and that there'd be better things to have a pissing contest over. Once the whales had been located and had come over for a look, she would be able to communicate with them without asking permission.

18:32, Today: America Salazar rolled 27 using 1d20+18.  Charisma, +4 for Fact.

Using my Ph.D as a relevant Fact for a +4 to dealing with academic combat. Knowing the costs is an exercise of Omniscient Scholar. So, I think that roll means that the cats are successfully herded for the time being.

Low balling the idea by associating it with grad students works. Snobbery makes them shift the idea to beneath their notice. Now she can either radio instructions back to the helicopter crew or get the ship to head back to dock. Really a question of how much she trusts the hirelings.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:54, Thu 16 Sept 2021.

It was a simple, hopefully idiot-proof task and an expendable buoy, and the helicopter crew had GPS. America got on the radio to ask the helicopter to drop it just inside the Zone.

America figured that once the buoy was inside cetacean territory, they'd have to come and check it out. And then they'd be in range for her to talk.

Good news! She managed to beat the others to the punch and her buoy is dropped. Bad news, so were about six others of various makes and models over an area maybe two kilometers in diameter. Then the ocean's surface exploded with about every aquatic mammal this region plays host to.

Visual approximation was hard due to the numbers and drastically different scale of them all but it was at least in the mid hundreds from where America stood.

There also seemed to be a division of labor occurring. Each buoy got a specific species, the groups moved close together but never actually intermingled.

She could feel the water on the edge suddenly host what can only be described as a porpoise perimeter patrol that ignored the buoys.

Well, America wasn't too worried about the multiple buoys. Now she knew where all the locals were, and they apparently were able to tell that the buoys were nonhostile, and were not ships that needed to be attacked. Interesting. Apparently, these cetaceans were able to work together toward a common porpoise.

...Not sorry.

Once she knew the sonar was working, America decided to take a walk out on deck. Sitting with her legs, she focused her mind and spirit, becoming one with the sea. There was no change to her body, of course, but soon she thought of herself as Mother Tethys.

Miracle: Lord of the Waters until end of scene. Among other things, this means that Tethys can speak to sea life. She can command unintelligent sea life, but she's working under the assumption that these cetaceans are sentient beings until she learns otherwise.

Once she was attuned to her power, she began to whistle in a range that easily carried for kilometers across the water. Humans wouldn't be able to understand it...humans wouldn't even be able to hear half the ranges she used...but the porpoise patrol would easily be able to pick up what she was saying.

"Hello there. I mean you no harm, but you and your friends have been attacking our vessels. May I ask why you are doing this?"

Getting precise numbers would take data from all the buoys and the sort of computation that wasn't going to happen at sea. Still, it was better to have some data to show before they started agitating for permission for more invasive work.

"Keep land life away," one answered.

"It was lost but called for help," chimed in another.

"Old threat has returned." said yet another.

America's impression was that the individual members of this-pod? herd? patrol?- are only as intelligent as normal. Which meant quite smart but the bigger difference was in organization. Dividing up the tasks, responsibilities, and movements of this many individuals and species wasn't normal. Something had given them orders and they were working to carry them out.

Tethys could do much the same of course, but getting it to stick long term without directly managing things on site would be exhausting.

America nodded. About as she expected. Fortunately, she didn't need to write a paper on the numbers.

"May I come in? I would like to speak to this It you speak of."

She began lowering a rope to the water, then shed her professional suit and skirt. Underneath, she'd brought a rather plain dark blue bikini. She had thought she might need to go for a swim on this trip. (A swim in the middle of the Atlantic, for what might be several miles. Absolutely something a perfectly ordinary academic might do.)

The consensus among cetaceans is that she did not count as 'land life'. It took seven or eight species less time to settle on that than her colleagues had argued over the right way to make coffee earlier.

Joseph and one of the PhDs from Hawaii (sent because she was gloriously over qualified to operate the ship, her research was on algae) both looked too surprised by the casual departure, to an area being actively patrolled, to do anything about it. America felt the cold as she slipped into the water but it was mild enough that any sufficiently skilled swimmer would be fine for a few hours.

The center of the formation seemed the most likely place for it to rest. That could be a problem in an area this large. On the other hand, there are literal hundreds of great swimmers around who had taken orders from it.

I have cold immunity, anyway.

America smiled at the agreement, then took a perfect 10/10 dive into the water. Once underwater, she took in glorious, deep and cool lungfuls of aquatic oxygen, then began to swim into the Zone with her eyes open and her senses of life sharp. Agilely dodging around the whale pods (one didn't want to get too close to tails like that), she headed toward the center, trying to sense...well, any lifeform that was radiating some kind of intellect and power. As she travelled, she listened to the sea life around her, and briefly paused to join the chorus of one humpback song. (Some part of her mind wondered whether that paper would fall under marine biology or music.) Then she swam on.

I sense any life above or below the water within a mile, using my temporary Gift, and use that as part of my search.

True, I'm just saying you don't need it until hitting the depths.

Eight hundred twenty-three cetaceans and, keeping very much to itself at the north-eastern edge of the circle, a squid with aspirations to kraken-hood filled the area she could sense. Most smaller fish, including the sharked, had cleared the waters. There is nothing alive at the center of the formation.

She saw that there used to be though. There was a skeletal arm just peaking out from a thick layer of silt dead center in a disturbed region of the seabed. The impact crater has been mostly washed away but here and there America picks out signs that rocks, reefs, and even an ancient anchor were pushed away. Thirty or forty meters in diameter.

Well, America could ask the porpoises more about this "It," but first she decided a little careful archaeology was in order. And so, she began pushing the water into a stream, eroding and dispersing the sand of the crater away from the arm to unearth the skeleton beneath and see if there were any clues there.

Whatever had opened up this crater, America needed to find out what was going on.

Living Torrent allows me to open up earthen barriers. So I'll use it as a tool here.

Fingers connected were connected to a wrist, forearm, and so on. It wasn't America's area of expertise but as she gently removed the silt what came into sight was a human skeleton. The right side of the ribcage and sternum are so damaged that shattered is a better word than broken. It was wearing pieces of hoplite bronze armor that looked to be in the early stages of verdigris. Helmet, greaves, and breastplate but not the expected shield.

America knew her Ancient Greeks one way or another and this armor is oddly generic, she might be able to identify it better in real light after some cleaning.

Something able to remain intact, although not survive, an impact like this would make a modern tank seem like tissue paper.

Well, this was definitely interesting - something to take back to the lab. America carefully pulled up the armor and any bits of skeleton that wouldn't crumble to dust immediately.

Carrying her prize, she whistled to the porpoises who she'd been talking to. "Can you tell me more about the threat your people are facing?" She could deal with the organizing force later - if she could find it. Right now was the time to prove her bona fides and help out.

America only needed a few moments to realize that the skeleton wasn't old, and neither was the impact crater. They hadn't been here more than a few weeks, although what had stripped the flesh from the bones so completely in that span might be worth concern later. The bigger problem would be getting it all in one trip. She might be able to sort of, uhm, bundle most of the loose bits into the breastplate and helmet?

The porpoise pod peered over America's shoulder at the whistle.

"Water fought one of land's logs," the explain, "All loud and smoke. We heed call and drive off moving island."

America did the best she could to bundle the bones. It was amateur archaeology, let the pros sort out the mess.

"I see," whistled America. "I don't know exactly what happened, but the land folk of the islands above need to be able to travel freely across the sea and take food, just like the folk of the sea do. I am of both land and sea, and so I wish to build harmony and compromise so that all beings may thrive here."

"I cannot speak for all land folk, but I think I can bring a proposal to the people of the island above. No hunting of cetacean life will be allowed in this zone, and strict limits kept on the taking of fish, so that there is food enough for all. In return, ships should be allowed to move across this portion of sea. Would that be acceptable to your people?"

In truth, America knew that she was offering absolutely zero - Portugal already forbade whaling and had fisheries management programs. But that was the best kind of offer to make, if she could get the other sea life to agree!

America's proposal went back and forth among the groups. Who or what ever drew them here seems to have been a bit heavy handed. It was like watching a debate among people given conflicting orders by two powerful officials. She was pretty sure that if the body she found had still been alive contesting the orders would have taken an equally direct application of power.

As it was after ten minutes of whale song, whistles, and patterned swimming the surrounding marine animals all scattered in their various pods, schools, and pre-existing social groups.

"Huh. That was weird," said America in a more normal voice.

After all of her new friends scattered, America returned to the ship with her loot, launching herself out of the water on a quick waterspout that carried her to the deck. This had been too easy, but she still had an obligation to take care of. She claimed some sailcloth to wrap her findings in first, then returned to the gang of academics - who she expected were still arguing about the proper authority to investigate the dolphins.

"Oh, hey," she said. (At least on shipboard, being dressed in a bikini and still dripping a bit wasn't really inappropriate. "So, uh, our friends have dispersed, but they have something they want to say to us landlubbers. I don't suppose anyone here knows how to get in touch with the Portuguese Ministry of the Sea?" she asked half-jokingly.

"So, everyone gets to have the same paper with the same data," Joseph said at the declaration of their departure, "Probably going to take a day or two to track the dispersal and get some divers down there."

He tossed America a towel while the others looked despondent.

"You mean the Maritime Authority System? Or more civilian governing bodies?"

America nodded thankfully to Joseph and toweled off a bit. "Don't worry. You'll all get co-authorships on my paper, which will include my communication with the porpoises," she said.

"Civilian. The Cabinet minister if it can be arranged, since I managed to cut a deal with the cetaceans not to harass shipping in the zone. Technically, it probably falls under the Foreign Ministry, since this is official first contact with sentient life, but I figure Sea are the ones who need to be aware of the terms I negotiated."

America wondered how she was already getting used to dropping something that big in a voice that deadpan.

"I guess it shouldn't surprise me that you think like an American," Joseph said as he went with the obvious pun, "So the dolphins finally finish their torpedo array and demanding most favored nation status?"

America could see the exact moment the weird was too much for the others and they retreated to busy work.

"Who's the friend?" Joseph asked between yelling at the captain about heading back to port.

America laughed. "They even held a vote. Bringing democracy to the deep sea."

She looked over at the sailcloth-clad lump that had once been a skeleton. "Not sure, but there shouldn't have been a body clad in bronze armor at the bottom of the sea. I'm going to hand him over to the Archaeology department and see if they can figure anything out." She shrugged. No point in bringing up that the body seemed to have supernatural powers to Joseph. One kind of weird was good enough for this particular mission.

"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."