The Pharos Objective by David Sakmyster

said.
    “Really?”
    “Apple trees. Back home, in Upstate New York. Haven’t you been there, with the group? Waxman said he’s been using the house as a base.”
    Nina blinked at him, smiling. “Nope, haven’t had the pleasure. I’m new, but it sounds divine. Bet you had some delicious apple pies every fall.”
    “Twice a day,” Caleb said. “After lunch and for dessert. At least until Dad left and Mom, well . . . she got caught up in this crowd. No offense.”
    “None taken. I’m—well, this is all new to me.”
    “So you really can see things?”
    Nina blushed. “Yeah, sometimes, but I don’t think I’m all that good at it. Can’t control it very well. Still, Waxman seems to think I can help.”
    “I’m sure you can,” Caleb said. “But just be careful of him, Nina. He’s . . . not what he seems.”
    “Really?” Her voice cracked. “How do you know? Did you see something?”
    Caleb shook his head. “No. Don’t worry about it. I’m probably just overreacting.” He looked over Nina’s shoulder to where Waxman was holding Helen’s shoulders and talking in animated tones.
    “Sorry about your father,” Nina said. “I heard he was interested in the Pharos too. He would have loved to be here.”
    “He came to Alexandria a couple times right after I was born. Did a lot of research and even made a couple dives himself. At least he told me that much. Sometimes, while we were up in our little lighthouse—a museum now, really, since they put up a new one a mile away at the pier—he’d tell me all kinds of stories about the Pharos, about Alexandria at the time of its construction, about Sostratus and the Great Library and the temples and everything.”
    Nina folded her arms, chilled suddenly. “Maybe you’ll see it soon. Like it was in your mind.”
    “Maybe,” Caleb said, remembering the all-too brief glimpse he’d had while nearly drowning, and his gaze grew distant.
    Nina absently scuffed the sole of her sandal over the thin layer of gravel on the flagstones. “What are you thinking about now?” she asked.
    Caleb blinked, smiled. “Actually, thinking about Dad still. How he’d take us out to see the other landmark historic property on our land: ‘Old Rusty.’”
    “Old what?”
    “Rusty, it was my sister’s favorite thing. An ancient, rusted lightship. You know, the kind they used to send out in the foggiest of nights, with lanterns on its masts, to guide ships into the harbors. Phoebe loved the sound its hull made when we threw stones against it, and then we’d run before anyone could catch us. We used to sneak aboard, make up stories and pretend to be in great sea battles, captain and first mate, raiding the high seas.”
    Nina sighed. “Sounds like you had a one-of-a-kind childhood. But you’re right, you should have been allowed to grow up there without racing all over the world with your mother.”
    Caleb smiled. “Well, too late now.”
    Nina closed her eyes and turned her face toward the sun and breathed in its warmth, then looked back to where Helen and Waxman were still arguing. “Do you think we’ll find the way in to the lighthouse vault?”
    “Nope. I think old Sostratus hid it too well.”
    Nina looked depressed. “Then they better accept defeat soon.”
    “They won’t. My mother won’t, either. She’s obsessed.”
    “So was your father.”
    Caleb winced as if she had reached over and smacked him across the face. He thought for a moment, remembering his father’s eyes, the tenderness in his voice, the way he would crack open a book, spread out its spine, and sometimes take a deep sniff of the pages, savoring the old smell of the paper. “Yes,” Caleb said, “but for a different reason. He didn’t want the treasure, didn’t care about money.” Caleb was getting excited, and felt a strange energy fueling his cells. “Dad just wanted knowledge. He loved everything about ancient Alexandria, and he wanted to understand the lighthouse completely. Just as