In the end, it was Dagwood who found him.
On seaQuest, there wasn’t really a “day” or “night.” No sun, no moon to judge by, only the numbers of the 24-hour military clock. Someone was always on duty, and someone else could usually be found working on a project or just goofing off. But in the late/early hours between 0100 and 0500, things quieted down for a while. Sounds that the “day” would have swallowed whole became echoes that rang in the metal corridors forever. The simple peace of early morning made it Dagwood’s favorite time to do his work.
It was 0300, and the GELF had been cleaning the seadeck in his usual methodical way. Every time he moved his mop along the grooved metal deck, its plastic fibers made a small scuffling sound. The sound held him mesmerized for a while. Then he remembered that he was supposed to be studying. “Left,” said Dagwood, as he pulled the mop to his left. Thrrrpt, went the mop. “Right.” Thrrpt. He started off slowly, making sure that he followed Brody’s directions carefully. “Left.” Thrrpt went the mop toward his name tag. “Right.” Thrrpt the other way. Other than the hum of the engines, it was the only sound on the sleeping boat.
After an hour, he decided to stop for a while. He wasn’t tired physically. It would be many hours before he would need to stop cleaning. But this “directions” business was confusing work, and seaQuest’s Effective Cleaning Personnel needed a study break.
Dagwood was near the moon pool, so he leaned his mop against the wall and stood at the edge of the water. The room was dark, except for the pool, which was always lit. It diffused the light into a bobbing net that made the walls and ceiling dance. He moved slowly so as not to trigger the motion-switched lighting, which would ruin the effect. It was one of his favorite parts of working aboard the seaQuest. He stretched backward, relaxing.
After a few minutes, he walked to the hatch and was about to resume his task, but something suddenly seemed wrong. The blue light seemed to make everything in the room move, but one movement was ever-so-slightly out of synch with the others. Dagwood hunched his shoulders and listened. What Dagwood lacked in cunning was compensated for by his acute GELF senses. Now that he was not concentrating on the shush of the mop, or the dance of the water, he began to notice more strange sounds and movements. A creak. Dagwood closed his eyes and listened more closely. A swish of air. It was coming from above!
He looked up and saw that the dangling Stinger leaned to one side. Thinking a little, Dagwood decided that it leaned to the left. Its cockpit door was open, but the ship was just high enough that he couldn’t see inside.
“Mmmmm. . . .” Dagwood was scared. He jogged over to the comm panel by the hatch. His hand hesitated just above the yellow button. What if there was nothing wrong here at all? What if he woke everyone for no reason? Tim would be very angry then. “Oh . . . ,” Dagwood made a worried noise.
He turned around and tiptoed toward the small craft. Eyes wide, he leaned over the water and pulled the Stinger toward himself. All at once, the room’s automatic lights sensed his motion and flipped on, momentarily blinding him. He was further startled when the boat wobbled crazily and escaped his grasp. Pitching forward, Dagwood nearly fell into the moon pool before recovering his balance and vision. The occupant of the Stinger very nearly took a swim, too.
A very pale-looking hand gripped the edge of the still-moving ship, and Lucas’ blond head emerged from the cockpit. He looked very odd to Dagwood. At first he thought that it was because of the swollen bruise on his right cheekbone. But it wasn’t just that. His ragged breaths were fast and uneven. Despite the sudden appearance of the bright lighting, Lucas’ pupils were wide--his eyes looked nearly black, not their usual bright blue.
They had startled each other, but Dagwood was the first to recover. “How did you get up there, Lucas?” The boy didn’t answer. Dagwood tilted his head in concern. “Everybody is worried about you. Have you been stuck up there all day?” The GELF leaned out and grabbed the craft with one hand, getting a better grip this time. He stretched his other hand up to help Lucas out of the Stinger, but Lucas jerked away. This time he definitely would have fallen in the water without Dagwood’s hand steadying the ship.
Lucas curled back down in the cockpit. It dawned on Dagwood that Lucas wasn’t stuck; he didn’t want to come down. Usually when Lucas didn’t want to do something, everyone heard about it. But the room was silent. “Why are you hiding?” Dagwood whispered, not wanting to scare him again.
For a long moment there was no movement, no sound except for Lucas’ choppy breaths. The lights dimmed again, then finally extinguished themselves entirely. A muffled noise that might have been a word came from the Stinger.
“Lucas?” Dagwood wasn’t sure what to do.
Again, a long wait. “My head--hurts--can’t think straight,” the boy stammered.
“I will call Dr. Smith . . .” Dagwood stepped back off the edge of the pool.
“No!” Lucas rasped. “I--you . . . Don’t go.” Lucas leaned out of the Stinger, toward the GELF. “She can’t--they can’t-- NNNnng!” wincing in pain, he grabbed his side with one hand and forced himself to continue. “Can’t see me . . . not like this. Dag, he wrecked my mind! I can’t even . . . think!”
Dagwood turned and stepped back up on the pool’s rim. Slowly he placed his big hand over Lucas’ smaller one on the lip of the cockpit. “But Lucas, you are smart!”
“Not anymore.” Lucas trembled again, and his short breaths caught in his throat. “He--you were there, Dag. You saw--he said . . . Damaging! You remember; he said it would be damaging.”
Dagwood did remember. “Lucas, you are wrong. That man made you see lies.” Lucas shivered with pain and shame, looking down into the softly-lit water. “He only made you think that you’re dumb.” There was a pause. “Just like he made me think that I was smart.”
Something intangible broke open between them. Lucas looked as if he might try to speak, but Dagwood hushed him. Reaching up a little further, he eased the boy out of the vessel. This time he didn’t resist, and soon Lucas was seated on the edge of the moon pool, facing the hatch where the mop leaned forgotten against the wall. He wove dizzily and drooped sideways, falling into the GELF’s chest. He resisted the contact, trying to sit up again, but Dagwood’s gentle arm around his shoulder wouldn’t allow it.
That was how Tim found them at 0530--Dagwood standing with his arm protectively around Lucas, who sat staring numbly off into space.