Seaspray drifted just offshore of the california coast line, hull rocking gently with the swell, and his gold and blue finish catching the late-morning summer sun. Gulls wheeled overhead, crying sharply before settling again on the nearby rocks. To him, it was a familiar song—Earth’s oceans had their own rhythm, not so different from Cybertron’s old tidal generators.

“Depth looks good here,” you mentioned, kneeling near the edge of his deck with a waterproof tablet in hand and your wetsuits zipper in the other. You eventually clipped a sensor line to one of the cleats built into his frame, which he didn't mind at all. “No currents strong enough to yank me sideways today. Finally.”

Seaspray chuckled, the sound vibrating through the water. “Told ya. This patch is quiet—ocean likes to nap here.” He shifted slightly, compensating for a rolling wave so her footing stayed steady. “You sure you don’t want me to come along for your dive? I can scare off anything with too many teeth.”