Chapter 25

The thing about a four year old and a 90 foot catamaran? I’ve been there ... WE’VE been there. If one were to put a number on it ... one to ten ... we triplets are ... compared to ‘normal’ or average ... about a 15. Evolution in action. We were first. Maybe.

Tyche Selene Flintkote is a magnitude more evolved ... second generation ... the new kids ... as yet to be born ... will ... or should be ... equal to Tyche ... and she can guide development ... she’ll be five ... or six.

Now ... THAT scares me.

I have to wonder ... are there others? Other children whose fathers were blown to bits ... but lived? How long has this been going on?

Is it just evolution? Gradual improvement of the species? Or are we a step above?

While I was pondering a screech sounded at the helm.

“What just happened?”

<Oh dear. Forgot about little miss curiosity ... hee hee.>

Seven is back! Chaos reigns. “Coming Tyche.” I rushed. Rushing at night on an open deck is not smart. I footed it through the salon and to the steering station.

“What seems to be the problem?” I asked my 4 year old helms-kid.

“We’re not where we were ... what did you do?”

“What makes you think it was me?”

Drumming her impatient fingers on the wood and stainless wheel she said, “Aunt Cynthia is asleep. Daddy is ‘entertaining’ mom. It has to be you.”

“Can you keep a secret?” I asked.

“Maybe ... depends,” Tyche waffled.

“Depends on what?”

“Is the secret dangerous ... to me ... or mine?”

“I have a time travel watch,” lets see how she handles that.

“The time didn’t change. The water did.”

“About a mile west is Central Time.”

“We’re ... wait ... this isn’t the River?”

“Nope ... Lake Michigan.”

She turned on the chart plotter light. “We are.”

“Time travel watch.”

Junior stepped out of the salon.

“Used your watch?”

“Yup.”

“Why?”

“Cynthia is due.”

“Good reason.”

“Aunt Cynthia is going to have a baby? How neat ... can I watch?”

“Run ask her.” I told Tyche.

“You have the con?”

“I have the con.”

“That kid watches too many war movies,” Junior said.

She flickered.

“Tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Baby.”

I started pushing buttons ... green lights became red. The engine room vent fans turned on ... two minutes and the diesels fired off and five minutes after that we were flying low.

It’s 60 miles from Manitowoc to Ludington ... the border is half way. 30 miles ... hour and a fifteen minutes.

“Go Cat, go!”

The radio is ALWAYS on Channel 16. I grabbed the microphone.

“Ludington Port, Ludington Port, Ludington Port. SV Flint, SV Flint, SV Flint.”

The radio crackled, “SV Flint, SV Flint, Ludington Port.”

“Ludington Port, SV Flint, we need an ambulance at the City Marina. Say again ... ambulance at city marina.”

“State your emergency.”

“Imminent birth. SV Flint is about an hour out. Say again ... about an hour out.”

“Dispatching,” announced the radio. “You will be met.”

“Thank you, SV Flint, out.”

We made it ... Tyche got to watch.

“A little messier than kittens, but educational,” Tyche said.