There was no immediate response. A few crew members leaned over the rail, wary. Katherine continued, “We’re in the area collecting sonar and temperature readings for the coastal biodiversity project. Your ship’s stationary position is perfect for our sampling equipment. We respectfully request permission to come aboard for an hour.”
Several quiet moments passed before a man appeared at the upper deck—gruff, broad-shouldered, and suspicious. He peered down with furrowed brows, saying nothing at first. Then, finally: “What agency did you say you’re with?” His tone was clipped, but Katherine caught the trace of caution in his voice.
“National Marine Research Division, under the Department of Coastal Affairs,” Katherine replied smoothly. “We’re doing seasonal monitoring, and your location aligns with our tracking corridor. If you’ll allow us one hour aboard, we can complete our readings. Your cooperation would be documented and greatly appreciated by the department.”
The captain narrowed his eyes, still hesitant. “We didn’t get any notice about any readings,” he said, voice low. “You weren’t scheduled.” Katherine smiled, careful not to overplay it. “We’re the mobile team, sir. We follow where the data takes us. With just an hour, we’ll be out of your way.”