Leviathan. Joaquin De Torres

to say; in fact, she wasn’t even thoroughly briefed. He’d met countless Navy representatives who stuck out their chests, flashed their badges, demanded his help and expected some professional courtesy. They always arrived in uniform, Commander’s rank or above, and with an aide or some extra staff members at their sides. It made no difference to Joe Salas. He chewed these “experts” up and spat them out, sending them back to Washington with their tails tucked between their bureaucratic legs. The last one was over four years ago.

      But this one was different. Other than carrying a briefcase, Kira Brightman was dressed in a sundress, tank top and sandals. She didn’t claim to be an expert. She was young, no more than 25, a Lieutenant. She was nervous and out of her element, Salas surmised. His feud with the Navy notwithstanding, the fact that she was from WEPS gave her an advantage over all of the others. He decided to test her.

      “Inside.”

      “Excuse me?”

      “Inside.” He cocked his head to the pool. “It’s after hours. You wanna talk to me, then you get inside.” She looked down at her clothes and was going to ask if she could borrow one of the women’s swimsuits when she looked up and saw that he was now completely naked. Her mouth opened slightly as her eyes followed his wide chest to his six-pack, and down to his groin area. He stood patiently until her visual inspection was completed. She swallowed hard again and raised her eyes to his.

      “Do I meet your approval, Lieutenant?” he asked impatiently. She nodded silently. “Clothes aren’t allowed in the pool.” He walked to the edge and dove in.

      “It’s about time, Joe!” called one of the swimmers. “Where are the others?”

      “We’re right here!” Kira looked around as four other people rushed up, two men and two women. They carried a cooler full of ice, bottled drinks and bags of food items. They set everything down at a group of picnic tables on the deck. They returned to the edge of the pool, quickly greeted her, then stripped naked as well. Kira noticed that with the exception of two or three of them in their twenties, the majority of the group must have been in their thirties, but all of their bodies were in magnificent shape, tanned and muscled. They dove into the pool. Kira suddenly found herself forgotten, standing alone while the rest frolicked in the water. It was obvious that this group was going to do their own thing whether she was there or not.

      Salas was enjoying himself with a dolphin in each hand, being dragged happily along the surface. Another person was flipping fish to the other dolphins from a bucket. Kira turned to leave, content to return the next morning during working hours, but considered the words of her commanding officer Admiral Kaneshiro: He will test you, toy with you and try to anger you. . .You might even have to pass some kind of character examination before he lets you in the door. . .But if you stand strong and earn his trust, you may just get him to open up just enough.

      “Hey Joe!” called one of the swimmers. “Looks like the stranger’s got some guts!” Salas turned his head to see Kira, standing at the edge of the pool, completely naked. She put her hands out to the side and pirouetted around in a slow circle, giving them an ample view of her own taut physique. She faced forward again and placed her hands on her hips.

      “Well, what do you know,” said one of the men. “Natural blondes still exist!”

      She looked directly at Salas.

      “Do I meet your approval?” Salas smiled and waved her in.

      After two hours of swimming with the dolphins and enjoying several tropical cocktails prepared by one of the colleagues, Kira was feeling not only a little drunk, but unusually comfortable with the entire group. She was invited to join their in-depth conversations about climate change, astronomy and scientific research. This was not a group of Friday night partiers drinking on the beach; she was conversing with scientists who stood stark naked with Blue Hawaii’s in their hands, discussing the Sun’s increasing ultra violet emissions, the Earth’s four previous extinctions; and the proposed topics for the upcoming G8 Environmental Summit in Vienna.

      Their intellectual levels blew her mind. Their vernacular alone made her feel inferior, making her wonder again why she was chosen to come here. She had only started her Master’s program last semester, so she felt way out of her comfort zone. As the group exited the pool to prepare the food and barbecue, she decided to give her somewhat limited intellect a break and relax on a lounge chair. As she looked up at the incomprehensible mass of brilliant stars, another lounge chair plopped next to hers. It was Salas. He kicked back with a beer in his hand.

      “Dr. Salas.”

      “Call me Joe. Why aren’t you with the others?”

      She laughed embarrassingly and cocked her head.

      “Let’s just say I’m well below their intellectual pay grade.” Salas laughed and looked at them.

      “They can be geeks at times, but they’re all great people; all passionate.” He inhaled the fresh air laced with the sweet scent of Jasmine and Plumeria. “All in love with the ocean.” She turned on her side to face him and again beheld his naked masculinity. His eyes were now turned up to the stars in awe. She broke her gaze to look at them, as well.

      “They’re so beautiful.”

      “Yes, they are. I love it out here. It allows me to think.”

      “About what?”

      “About how small we are in the universe. And. . .” he trailed off and took a swig from his beer.

      “And?”

      “And how pathetically underdeveloped and savage our civilization must look to other intelligent life.”

      She took a long sip of her cocktail from her straw.

      “You believe in that? Intelligent life?”

      “You don’t?” he asked abruptly, as if the question hit a nerve. “You think in all the billions of years of celestial existence; of all the billions of stars, planets and galaxies out there; this is the best the universe can produce? A planet divided and ruled by the greed and prejudice of the rich?”

      “You’ve mentioned that in your books and articles, how you hate the rich.”

      “I don’t hate them; I despise them.”

      “You despise them?”

      “I despise those who have so much wealth, yet do nothing to help the impoverished or the weak. I despise those who actively seek to destroy average citizens in order to expand their own wealth. I especially despise politicians who stroke the cocks of Wall Street bankers, billionaires, and corporate CEOs to get their financial backing.” He looked at her sternly. “That’s what you fight for, Lieutenant.” He shook his head. “That’s what you represent when you wear that uniform—a nation built on greed and paybacks lead by a Congress who don’t give a shit about the country.”

      “That’s not what I fight for,” Kira answered defensively. Salas lifted his eyebrows incredulously.

      “Oh yeah? So, tell me why you wear the uniform.”

      “Because I couldn’t have finished college any other way. ROTC was the only way I could afford it. Plus—”

      “And you know why that is, don’t you?” he intercepted. “Because educational benefits, scholarships and grants were cut by state governors looking to give themselves and the rich more tax cuts. They first started firing teachers, then raised tuition by as much as 35 percent, then the banks raised interest rates on student loans, making it almost impossible for students to attend college, let alone finish it with massive debt. And who made all this possible? Those wealthy governors who don’t give a shit about students, teachers or the working class. Do you know why, Kira? Because education is dangerous to them. People who think, who question, who reason—they will always be dangerous to them. Did you vote in the last election?”

      “No.