18 Floors Above the Apocalypse
Chapter 388

Daniel's eyes crinkled with a smile as he took in Stella's concern.

Maybe sensing his laid-back and kind nature, Stella added a bit out of the blue, "Don't brush it off. Staying healthy is key if you're going to serve the country and its people effectively." Honestly, she admired people like him who devoted their lives to their nation.

The base was huge, practically a small town, and not everyone could handle that kind of responsibility.

Stella wasn't easily impressed-Mark, Collin, Professor Lee, and...

Given how well he managed the base, Daniel probably deserved to be on that list.

Daniel nodded, "Alright, I'll take your advice."

Hmm... That response felt odd to Stella, but she couldn't quite figure out why before she left the room.

Outside, Jasper and the two dogs were unharmed, much to her relief.

Mark escorted them downstairs, where the submarine group's instructor was waiting to drive them, and the dog, away.

When Mark got back upstairs, he found Daniel at the window, watching until Stella and the others were out of sight.

The secretary, not forgetting to remind him of an important meeting, also filled him in on personal matters. "Sir, your wife called earlier, asking about your health." Daniel pondered, "She only asked about my health?"

"She mentioned the unusual weather and was worried you didn't have enough clothes for the change. She wanted to bring some over but didn't want to disturb your work." "What did you tell her?"

"I said you were in a meeting, would later inspect the armory, and that I had to stand in for you to receive an award. Family can't enter a military zone without prior approval." Without another word, Daniel left for his meeting.

Recalling Stella's words, he instructed, "Book a doctor's appointment for a health checkup."

Mark was taken aback. The commander had been pushing himself to the brink, and although Mark often reminded him to get checked, the commander was always too caught up in endless duties, resulting in missed appointments. But now he was actually initiating it; it seemed the world had turned upside down.

"I'll arrange it right away," Mark said, energized.

...

The submarine unit was stationed at a deep-sea harbor, requiring a half-hour ride on a speedboat to reach.

Stella, wearing a life jacket and holding Cooper, sped over the waves.

The roar of the speedboat's engine was deafening, and seeing the instructor focused on navigating, Stella leaned close to Jasper's ear and whispered, "What did Mr. Daniel ask you?" "Apart from verbal commendation, he asked where the rare metals were found and if we could provide more."

They had crafted a story about trading all their possessions for the metals.

The rules of the trade meant no questions asked about how many hands the goods had passed through. Jasper indicated they had cleaned out the seller completely.

Stella frowned, "He didn't ask about your past?"

"He did about family, upbringing, and history."

Oddly, Daniel had said they looked like a married couple and hoped they would continue to stand by each other in this post-apocalyptic world.

The fact that Jasper was also questioned was somewhat reassuring to Stella, but she still felt uneasy, "He asked if I was interested in enlisting, and after I refused, he gave me a contact."

If it were anyone else, you could chalk it up to post-disaster insanity.

But why would a military commander make such bizarre remarks? Approachability has its limits.

Stella suspected Daniel still had doubts and his warm approach was merely a ploy to lure them in.

Yet his emotions seemed genuine, which was unfortunate because the clumsy script made it all too transparent.

Stella was full of doubts but couldn't discuss them with Jasper as the instructor was present.

In the distance, the deep-sea dock appeared, with several dozen submarines breaching the surface, resembling dark behemoths.

The visible ones were just a fraction; the seabed was teeming with them.

A medium-sized military submarine was quite large, about 164 feet in length and 33 feet in width.

Mr. Cristian called his assistant and began briefing Stella and the others on the basic features and functions of the submarine.

According to regulations, Cooper wasn't allowed on the submarine; pets could cause chaos and panic in emergencies, potentially hitting control buttons.

Stella insisted, "Don't worry, we've trained him like a military dog for years. When we first got to the base, the dog training unit nearly snatched him away."

Mr. Cristian had dutifully warned her, but seeing her insistence, he didn't object further. After all, the client was always right, and the commander had specifically mentioned it.

One should be responsible for their choices, and if she said it was fine, then it was fine.

The hatch opened, and Mr. Cristian led the group down the ladder.

The submarine looked big, but much of its volume was taken up by built-in equipment. The actual control room was only about 323 square feet, with two rest areas, a meal room, a supply room, and a restroom. For three people and a dog, it was spacious; for ten, it would be cramped.

But in such times, to create an indestructible steel beast that could carry the "seed vault" of human wisdom was a marvel of invention and manufacturing.

Stella had read the manual and found the nuclear fuel propulsion of the submarine beyond reproach.

Deep-sea navigation was no joke, and Mr. Cristian started with the basics...

It was impossible to master the professional jargon in a day or two; rote memorization was key.

The instructors had taught countless students and had honed the most straightforward and quick-learning methods, and both Stella and Jasper were quick on the uptake.

Rosie hadn't neglected her education over the years, but her brother and sister-in-law had only taught her the basics; complex physics and chemistry were out of reach.

As a result, she struggled to follow, but her excellent memory and diligent note-taking helped.

Poor Cooper, though, sat on the floor with wide eyes, unable to comprehend despite its attentive head tilting.

After insisting for two hours, it collapsed and fell into a deep sleep.

A week of compressed training left no more room for simplification. Aside from sleeping, eating, and restroom breaks, it was all learning.

The daily commute to the living area was out of the question; everything took place on the submarine.

"Time is precious," Mr. Cristian explained. "Surfacing, submerging, or sailing out consumes a lot of energy, and our nuclear fuel is in short supply, so we can't afford to waste it."

After wrapping up the theoretical instruction, Mr. Cristian encouraged the trio to practice repeatedly. "If there's anything you don't get, just ask me. With enough practice, you'll know it like the back of your hand."

Stella felt a wave of nostalgia, as if she were back in school, under the same kind of pressure she had felt cramming for SATS and AP exams for years.

The three of them, along with their dog, settled into the submarine. Their room was nothing but basic bunk beds with metal frames, welded to the hull for stability.

They shared one room, while Mr. Cristian and his assistant occupied another.

Without prior notice that they'd be staying in a submarine, Stella hadn't packed much, but thankfully, her habit of carrying a large backpack whenever she left the house paid off.

Both she and Jasper had their oversized backpacks, which were perfect for blending in and pulling out a change of clothes when needed.

What she hadn't anticipated was Mr. Cristian cooking up spaghetti and inviting them over to share a meal...