Wake Island
“Our little mid-Pacific sojourn may have taken an ominous turn.” Dr. Janis Fielding was in melodrama mode as she passed out copies of the spreadsheets she’d downloaded from counterparts aboard the RV Seascope. “This data just came in and I made copies for everyone. Take a few minutes to look it over and then I’ll want opinions from all disciplines.”
Tracey Davis scratched at a patch of skin that was starting to peel under the modest khaki safari shirt she’d tossed on over her bikini top and began to scan the rows of figures. Fielding was a bit of a drama queen but some of this stuff did look disturbing. Seated to her right, Woodrow Cheeley tossed his copy of the print-out on the table and sat back with his hands folded on his stomach. She elbowed him and pointed at the printe
