Disclaimers: Mike, Joel and the 'bots are owned by BBI. I sorta borrow them, but don't worry, I don't abuse 'em any. ;-)

Note: I owe my sister my soul, and Bodger my first born child. :::snickers::: Not really. But I do owe them my eternal gratitude for making this readable. Thanks!!

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The computer searched ever dutifully for the right frequency to the ETRTV, but for those waiting for the results such a search seemed to stretch on through eternity. It scanned, tested and rejected frequency after frequency, only stopping once or twice during the entire time the program ran. There was really nothing to do but wait, and while they waited, the former crew of the Satellite of Love did what they could to keep busy.

Joel spent most of his time creating gear for their actual raid on NASA. He had always imagined himself as the guy who worked for people like James Bond, and this was the perfect exercise for his imagination; a chance to take a walk in a world most people never saw outside of movies.

Mike entertained himself fairly well. Whenever he could persuade Joel to give him the car keys, he would disappear for hours on end. The other three didn't know where he went, and it lead to quite a bit of speculation when the afternoons became boring. Joel thought that he was trying to get away from the rest of them for some quiet time, and the 'bots were positive he had fallen head over heels in love with something of the wool-wearing variety. That had been their joke ever since the fair, and it lead to obscure references involving Velcro gloves, but Mike brushed them off in his usual good humor.

In truth, he ended up out in the more rural areas (though not to visit sheep farms) and would spend a lot of time trying to find a good thinking spot. Somewhere that had little noise, nice scenery, and a halfway comfortable place to sit. No luck yet, but he kept on his diligent search, and enjoyed getting out and about quite a bit.

The 'bots managed to drag the humans out nearly every night to try something. One night it would be a walk in the park, another night going to the theater to watch a play. Aside from getting thrown out of a community production of Hamlet for riffing the actors and actresses, the time passed without incident. They looked forward to the evenings, fooled around during the day, and sometimes watched TV at night.

And so the weeks passed in that manner. Each became accustomed to the routine in their own way, and in turn became accustomed to each other. The 'bots had no trouble with this, and when it came down to it, the humans didn't either. They found out quickly that they worked well together; Joel being technical minded and very grounded in reality, and Mike being well-read and more of a dreamer. It made for a nice balance, and an all around comfortable environment.

Joel reflected on this as he played with a modified ball-point/high powered cutting torch. It was his latest in his covert ops inventions, and he was proud of himself. The torch wouldn't last for more than thirty seconds, but maybe it was something that would come in handy. He screwed the cap on and tossed it in Mike's general direction.

Mike looked up from the newspaper when the pen landed smack in the middle of the comics. "'Nother gizmo?"

"Yup!" Joel answered, cheerily. "Jimmy, eat your heart out."

Mike grinned, "That good, huh?" He took the cap off and gave the pen a long look. It sure didn't look like anything special, but he had learned one lesson very fast: Never underestimate something of Joel's without wearing some sort of armor.

"I think it is." The older man stood up from his cluttered workbench and stretched. "With this, the remote, and the night vision binoculars, I think we'll be able to do it."

"Me too." Mike tossed the pen back, smoothly, and looking back at the comics. Snoopy had a big hole in his nose, but worse tragedies have occurred in history.

Joel looked over his shoulder, reading the comics, and was rewarded with a mildly annoyed glance. Still, Ziggy was good this week, and he was chuckling to himself for a moment when he heard the desktop computer in his room let off a tone.

Both men looked that way in unison, then at each other, then back at the room. Joel had set the computer to sound when the proper frequency was found. Both of them knew without either having to say a word that the time had come. They were heading that way when Crow stuck his head out of his and Tom's room, asking, "What was that?"

"Desktop," Joel answered, looking in to where Servo was hovering with a crayon and drawing on a piece of paper taped to the wall. "Must have found the ETRTV's control frequency."

"That mean we get to go to Florida?" Crow began running around the room excitedly. "Cool!"

Mike smiled. "Let us at least see if it's the right one first, okay?"

Servo dropped his crayon. "Let's pack."

Joel chuckled and made his way down to his room, with Mike not too far behind him. He stepped over to the computer, and in flashing red was the frequency. "Huh..." was his only remark as he sat at the oak desk and typed a few commands in. One activated the camera, and a minute later, a screen came up showing the ETRTV's immediate surroundings.

Though the picture wasn't very clear and there was a definite time delay, it wasn't hard to see that the room it was in was some sort of government agency. From what Joel could tell, it was empty, and he hesitantly keyed in a few more commands. The ETRTV panned around, slowly.

Mike leaned forward, trying to get a good view. He could make out a few things... a door with a keypad of some sort, a table with some assorted equipment, and a chair. True enough, the room was vacant, and Joel shut the little machine off before anyone could come in and discover their little intrusion.

"Get packing?" Mike asked, stepping back from the computer and looking at Joel.

Joel made a quick note on a handy piece of paper, then glanced up with a smile. "Yup."


As with any road trip, it wasn't exactly unpleasant; however it did wear a little bit on the nerves. It wasn't so much the case for the humans, but the 'bots had a hard time sitting still for hours on end, and Joel finally stopped and picked up an array of games for them to play while they were in the car. They had pretty much beaten everything he had readily available, but the new stock kept them quiet for a little while and that was a relief.

Not that he would ever contemplate leaving them behind. Even at their most annoying, he still enjoyed their company, and having them around was just what he needed. Over the past few weeks, he had gone from feeling fairly miserable and dejected to feeling considerably brighter and more optimistic. It showed. He smiled more than he had in years, and found himself thinking about how much fun was ahead instead of finance meetings and other such. It was about time, though; he hadn't realized until now just how much of a void having them around had filled.

And so the road trip continued. Joel and Mike switched off on driving, even though Mike still hadn't gone to the DMV to try and explain why his license hadn't been renewed when it should have been. As much as he felt like lead-footing it, the Wisconsin farmboy managed to keep his natural urge to abuse the accelerator under control and usually cruised at about five miles per hour over the limit. It was safer than getting pulled over without a valid license. Still, even obeying the speed limit, he enjoyed the opportunity to drive at any chance he could get -- driving was one of Mike's biggest weaknesses next to reading. He loved the hum of tires on the road, and the way an engine would sort of sing when it hit the right RPMs. Power steering sucked, but that was the only major qualm he had about the Cavalier, and that was minor.

In all, the trip took them two days. It would have taken less time, but they had stopped for the night along the way. The car was comfortable enough, but one could only sit in a certain position for so long before getting antsy. When they finally got to their destination, not too far from Orlando, they pulled up to a motel not more than a half mile from the Atlantic. It was getting on towards sunset, but there was still a half an hour or so of sunlight left.

Joel walked out of the office with the room keys as Tom and Crow looked around. Mike stood a few feet away, eyes set on the East and the direction of the ocean. The air tasted different from anything he had ever encountered; salt, sand, and something else he couldn't quite place. If the air could smell like history, that was probably what it was -- something age old and colored with thousands of years worth of stories and mysteries. He didn't really hear Joel call him, and didn't look over until the other man walked over and tapped him on the shoulder. Finally he pulled himself from that fascination, and looked back. "Huh?"

Joel held out a key, somewhat apologetically. "Long day tomorrow... think we should get some sleep?"

"Yea..." Mike took the key, absently. "I'll... I'll be back in a few." With that, he started off in the direction of the water, unconsciously picking his pace up to a jog.

Joel looked after him with a slightly bemused look, but didn't follow. He turned back to the 'bots, who were griping about the lack of entertainment in the local vicinity. They were somewhat set apart from the city down the way, and the motel was built for people who preferred peace and quiet. Certainly not the place for two energetic robots.

"Not a game in sight!" Crow sighed, kicking around some sand that had blown into the parking lot. "This is Florida! There's gotta be an arcade somewhere."

"In a state where the average age is over 50?" Servo hovered around in a circle, scoffing. "Where shuffleboard is considered a hot night out?"

Joel smiled slightly and unlocked the door to his room, "Some people like their peace, gentlebots. And we're going to need a good quiet night if we're going to do this tomorrow."

"Yea yea," Crow complained, walking past Joel and into the room. There was a fairly large TV, and he immediately turned it on. Tom followed him in not too long later, and Joel hesitated for a moment. He knew that he should lay down and try to get some sleep, but like Mike had, he felt the urge to go and see the ocean. He had never actually been to the Atlantic, though he had spent many hours sitting on the shores of the Pacific contemplating life and such.

Finally he looked back in the room, "Will you guys be okay for a little bit?"

"Bring back cookies," Crow said, then went back to making fun of a zoo keeper trying to feed a panther. "Nice kitty kit-- Holy God in Heaven!"

"Ooooooh," Tom snickered. "Cat got his tongue!"

Joel just shook his head and closed the door. They would be entertained for hours by the Discovery Channel, though he had no intentions of being gone that long. He walked along the little road, kicking at the small sand dunes that had blown up in any relatively clear area. It was warm out... warmer than St. Paul usually ever got, even though the sun was sinking close to the horizon.

It didn't take long to get to the beach, and as he rounded a corner to the building, it was there. The huge world of water and salt. There was a nice breeze, and the waves reflected that, coming in and running up the shore, then back again. For the most part, it was deserted.

Mike was there too, standing back on a wooden platform. Joel made his way over, but he didn't get any acknowledgment of his presence for a good two minutes until Mike broke the not-quite silence. Until that point, Joel wasn't even sure that Mike knew he was there. "I've been to Lake Michigan, and Superior," Mike mused, not looking away from the water, "but it wasn't like this... didn't taste the same or sound the same." He finally glanced over after a pause. "That make any sense?"

Joel nodded, taking a deep breath of the ocean air. "Yea."

"That's good," Mike chuckled. "I thought I'd gone crazy. After all, water's water, right? Whether it has salt in it or not. So technically, this is no different from a pond, or one of the Great Lakes. But it is different... they kinda make you sit back and think, but this actually calls to you. Like a siren's song." He sat down on the wood planking, unlacing his sneakers.

"Don't tell me you're going to jump in there," Joel watched as Mike took his watch off and set it and the shoes aside. "There are signs all over about jellyfish and there could be sharks..."

"Race ya," Mike grinned, not particularly caring about jellyfish or any other sort of predator.

"Oh no," Joel shook his head. "Not a chance."

"Chicken!" Mike taunted, standing back up and giving Joel a challenging look. He went on to mimic the inventor, "Jellyfish and sharks and sand... oh my!"

"But--"

"Oh, the horrors of the briny deep! What creatures could lurk in the depths!" Mike continued, teasing mercilessly, "Why, I'm absolutely certain that there are squids in there just waiting for a Midwestern to snack on!"

"Okay, pal," Joel narrowed his eyes, kicking his shoes off without even bothering to untie them. He took his wallet out and tossed it down, then his watch. Finally he stood as straight as he could, though Mike was still several inches taller, "You wanna race? You got one!" And with that, he took off for the water like a shot.

Mike followed, but he wasn't nearly as fast, and Joel beat him. But where Joel hesitated at the edge, Mike plowed right into the water much like a golden retriever might when going after a duck.

It wasn't exactly cold, but it wasn't warm. The waves had a heck of a pull to them, and it took him a lot with water logged clothes to get out to a respectable distance. Even then, he had to battle it out with the waves to keep from being washed in, but Mike was a strong swimmer and held his own. Finally, satisfied that he had gone far enough, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and dove under water.

For a brief moment, it felt like eternity. Silence, yet not... a sort of dulled roar, of the waves hitting the shore, and the sand beneath him shifting in a timeless dance with water. This is what drove men to the ocean, and to sail across to see what was on the other side. In that moment, he could almost hear the millions of dreams and hopes and fears that revolved around the Atlantic... some sacrificed to it, and some that had been realized by it. Had breathing not been an issue, he might have stayed longer.

But breathing was necessary, and he came back up to the surface. The sun was on the horizon in the West, and Joel was floating a few yards away, looking up at the sky and the clouds that were painted in the colors of sunset.

The stars would be out soon, and the line between the Atlantic and the sky would disappear into blackness. Even though he didn't like the idea of being out on the water after dark, Joel stayed anyway. He wanted to see the stars, and it wouldn't take too long. He missed that part of being in space... there was no atmosphere to hinder the view, and the stars were so much more brilliant from orbit. Laying back on a cushion of salt water, he came close to touching that again, and touching that part of him that yearned for the days he had left behind years ago.

How long he floated, he had no real way of knowing. Light had faded from the sky, and he finally made his way back to shore once he realized how tired he was and how cool it had gotten. The inventor all but crawled out of the water, breaking the hold it had. It left him feeling pretty heavy and with a slight sense of regret at the water releasing it's grip.

Mike was already on shore, sitting back on the planking to avoid getting covered in sand. He tossed Joel a grin when the other man walked up, "All limbs still intact, I see."

"I had to fight off a hungry shark," Joel replied, completely deadpan. "Seems he thought about going after you, but decided that he needed to watch his cholesterol."

"Like you'd be more than a snack," Mike retorted, though not with any real defensiveness. He stood and slipped his sneakers on, leaving them untied.

Joel snickered, getting his own shoes, "Lean, mean, and prime rib!"

"More like Spam," Mike smirked.

"Grade A."

"Ground chuck."

They continued the friendly insult session almost to the corner where they would turn and leave the ocean behind in sight. Mike stopped there for a moment, and Joel halted a pace or two later, then walked back. "I guess I can see why people spend their whole lives on a boat," the creator chuckled, looking back at the water for another moment.

Mike nodded, watching the water continue rolling in with what little light was shed by the street lamps and such, "The sea, washing the equator and the poles, offers its perilous aid ...'Beware of me,' it says, "but if you can hold me, I am the key to all the lands.' "

"Where's that from?" Joel asked, after a moment's reflection.

"Ralph Waldo Emerson," Mike answered, smiling at the thought and turning back to continue towards the motel. "Ready for tomorrow?"

"I hope so," Joel said, honestly. For a moment, they had both forgotten that tomorrow was the equivalent of D-Day, and could determine the future of so many things. But the truth came back, and they turned their thoughts away from the water, and back to the present situation.

The rest of the walk was made in silence. Joel had spent weeks working on gear for the run, and Mike had spent weeks trying to figure out a way to get in and get back out without ending up captured. The run to Chicago had been nothing compared to this... practice, in a sense, but nothing more. Now they were facing incredible odds and slim chances. They contemplated this without a word, coming to the same conclusion: no matter what happened, they weren't going to give up. No matter what happened, the four of them were bound together through all of it. And no matter what happened, they wouldn't let each other down.

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"I really don't know why it is that all of us are so committed to the sea, except I think it's because in addition to the fact that the sea changes, and the light changes, and ships change, it's because we all came from the sea. And it is an interesting biological fact that all of us have in our veins the exact same percentage of salt in our blood that exists in the ocean, and, therefore, we have salt in our blood, our sweat, and in our tears. We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea, whether it is to sail or to watch it, we are going back from whence we came."

--President John F. Kennedy