Elevated Threat

by William Robson

  After his quick lunch respite, Captain Pickard soon found himself on the top-floor promenade telling the third cousin of some Hollywood starlet how happy he was that she decided to cruise with him on the Maurou and that no, she really couldn’t visit the bridge, despite her last name. Captain Pickard was keeping up a straight face but was desperately looking for a way out of the conversation when Third Officer Mackey mercifully interrupted the discussion.

  “Sorry to interrupt sir – but I have another cable from the Coast Guard.”

  This time the interruption was happily received by Captain Pickard as it gave him a way to extract himself from the ten-minute attention span of Miss full-of-herself. Captain Pickard excused himself and withdrew to the ship’s executive office. The ships are so big nowadays that all the executive officers work in an office. An irony that wasn’t lost on Captain Pickard. The message from the Coast Guard had little news to offer.

  “1417 EST - All ships, be advised that we have halted our investigation into the messages relating to the Carnival Destiny and we have concluded that there is no actionable plan against the ship. Barring new intelligence there will be no further updates on this matter. CGFI – Miami Station.”

  Captain Pickard handed the cable back to his third officer.

  “Probably just another punk trying to impress his high school buddies with a bomb scare,” Captain Pickard said sarcastically.

  Third Officer Mackey, in his best suck-up voice, chimed in:

  “Too bad. That smart-ass punk probably cost the tax payers and ship owners’ ten grand. And if they do ever catch him, he will no doubt complain to the judge how mistreated he is at home and will walk away with two week’s community service.”

  Captain Pickard just smiled at Mackey’s attempt at humor.

  “Mackey, you are one pessimistic downer, as you know. You’re right, of course, but you are such a downer. I think I’ll go back to kissing some almost famous ass for a while to cheer me up. You going to be all right?”

  Both men were chuckling as Third Officer Mackey left the executive office. Captain Pickard looked at his leather bound VIP list, only 27 more special guests to visit before he could end his first day at sea. The day was a long one and Captain Pickard’s lips hurt before his head hit the pillow in his cabin that night.

  By the time Captain Pickard woke up the next morning, the Maurou was approaching its first stop in Nassau. One downside to having the biggest cruise ship in the world was that they could not always fit in the normal ports and, so today, the big ship had to be anchored out at sea. A flotilla of small boats was waiting to take all those excited passengers (and their wallets) into town. While the tourists were shopping, jet skiing, or hitting the bars, the crew went to work preparing for the passengers’ return by cleaning the rooms, preparing the day’s meals, and reloading the wine casks. The executive crew went over local and national news reports, weather reports, and communication logs from other ships that have just been where they were going. Just a typical day at the office.

  Among all the other interesting electronic gadgets on the Maurou was a new boarding notification system. When a guest exited or returned to the ship after leaving for some onshore fun, a tablet PC connected to an onboard main frame was waiting at each boarding entrance so the guests could easily check themselves in or out. A comparison to the original onboard list from Miami would automatically be run, and the staff would have a real-time running tally of all the passengers’ location.

  The passenger tracking system was working beautifully. Fifteen minutes before the scheduled departure time from Nassau, the crew had verified all guests were back on board and the Maurou’s crew could begin to prepare to leave the Maurou’s first port-of-call confident all the paying guests were safe and accounted for. Twenty minutes later, the command was sent by the bridge to fire up the ship’s maneuvering thrusters, and ten minutes after that the coastline of Nassau was starting to recede into the sun. Next stop on the journey was Castaway Cay.

  Captain Pickard was on his way to the Grand Ballroom on Deck 5 to give a short speech to First Engineer Robson in honor of her recent promotion, when his private phone rang. All executive officers were required to have a private ship’s phone on their person at all times. If it rang, it usually was not good news.

  “Captain Pickard, this is Third Officer Mackey again. Sir, we have received another message that requires your immediate attention. Please meet me in the executive office on the first deck.”

  The captain was not amused.

  “First deck? Really, Mackey? I am a long way from there. Can’t you just relay the message to me?”

  “I am sorry, sir, but the caller said they would only give you the message directly.”

  “Who is the caller Mackey?”

  “It is the Eastern seaboard office of Homeland Security, sir. They have some CIA guy on the line, and it sounded like it was important.”

  Captain Pickard was surprised.

  “On my way then; be there in ten.”

  This was a first. Typically, once a ship is at sea, all communication comes to US ships via the Coast Guard CGFI station in Miami. The most exciting message Captain Pickard ever received while on cruise ship duty was years ago. On a trip back from the Gulf of Mexico, he was told his ship was unwittingly on the same path as some crazy drug smugglers. These drug-smuggling geniuses thought that by following close behind a cruise ship they could just sail right into Corpus Christi with no one noticing. They were wrong, as they found out when the USS Hurricane (A 179-foot Cyclone-class patrol ship) intercepted them less than 100 miles from their departure point on the Yucatan peninsula.

  The first-deck executive office is where most official communications arrive. When Captain Pickard entered the office his face was flush, both from the excitement of the expected message and by his fifty-eight mostly sedentary years, not to mention the uncounted number of donuts he had treated his heart to. When he was handed the message from Third Officer Mackey it was completely anti-climactic.

  “Captain Pickard – Please call Agent Jim Scholes on your secure ship’s phone at the following number at your earliest convenience.”

  “Mackey, are you freaking kidding me? He probably wants me to update my phone records or something. Do you realize I almost ran? Do you know what that would do to me? Is this your way of getting me into retirement so you can move up the ladder?”

  Captain Pickard was just giving his officer a hard time, but he kept that special captain’s look on his face, so Mackey wasn’t quite sure if he meant it or not.

  “I’m sorry, sir. He sounded like it was important on the phone.”

  The captain kept up the ruse.

  “Well, I’ll make the call from my cabin. I’ll be walking SLOWLY down there. Got it.”

  Despite his spiteful retort to Mackey, Captain Pickard was actually an easygoing sort who treated everyone around him well. He did the best he could to help each of his crew progress in the cruise business. Unlike many captains on the big ships, he treated the women on his crew as equals and tolerated no disrespect directed at them by any other member of his crew. More than one up-and-coming ship’s mate found himself left behind on the dock after berating one of his female staffers. Captain Pickard always said he couldn’t look his daughter in the eye if he did it any differently.

  Captain Pickard eventually completed the trek to his cabin, and using his encrypted secure phone, dialed the number for Agent Jim Scholes. When Agent Scholes answered Captain Pickard’s phone call he sounded rather frustrated.

  “Sir, I called your ship nearly thirty minutes ago. I would not have called you, if it wasn’t important.”

  Captain Pickard was not amused, nor was he bullied easily.

  “Well sir, I have a very large ship to run. You can continue to whine to me about your time management problems, or you can just tell me what you wanted and we can get on with it.”

  The phone went quiet for several seconds while each man thought about how they woul
d handle the next exchange. Fortunately, Agent Scholes responded by just starting at the beginning.

  “Captain, early this morning we had some information come to our attention that indicated some sort of threat was being directed at a cruise ship departing from Miami. Our initial intelligence indicated that the ship was departing Miami on the 27th and its general location was south of Grand Bahama Island. Based on that, and some other information I am not able to divulge, we assumed that ship was the Destiny. However, we have since learned that the departure date we had was inaccurate. We have now been able to verify the departure date was actually the 28th and not the 27th. That date and location narrows the possibilities to two ships, the Coral Sea and the Maurou. Given that this is your initial voyage, the largest cruise ship ever built with many high profile guests on board, and has owners tied back to the Middle East, the Maurou could be an enticing target for someone. Sir, has there been any unusual activity on board? Did you receive any pre-board notices from Homeland Security on any passengers? Did all scheduled passengers embark on the trip?”

  Captain Pickard was briefly taken aback.

  “No sir, we did not receive any communication from Homeland Security and we did sail with a full passenger list. Thus far I have had no reports of any unusual activity on board.”

  “Very well. The Coral Sea has responded the same. Unfortunately, at this time, we don’t have anything specific to go on, but I can assure you we are still looking into our sources to see if we can come up with some more details. For now I want you to quietly conduct a staff meeting with every member of your crew. Do not alarm them, but remind them that it’s important to be vigilant and ask them to report any unusual activity by any staff or guests up the chain of command. And make sure everything they report makes its way to you, no matter how seemingly insignificant. If anything does come to your attention, please forward that information to this number. One last thing. Explain to everyone on your staff, no Facebook updates, no Twitter tweets, and no phone calls talking about this warning. We must stay ahead of whoever is behind this.”

  “Mr. Scholes, you realize you have just told me to not worry, but I worry about everything and everybody. I have 7,000 guests and crew on this ship, and without some specific information on what to look for, I don’t really know what I can do.”

  “I understand your concern, sir, but I don’t have any more detailed information I can give you at this time. Please just talk to your staff and keep your eyes open. If anything comes up you can reach me or one of my staff at this same number 24/7.”

  Before Captain Pickard could reply the phone went dead. Agent Scholes was off chasing some other fire and Captain Pickard was left to figure this out alone.

  One of the planning meetings for the Maurou’s first voyage was a security preparedness meeting for the entire crew. They were asked to consider all the “what ifs” that could arise. Most of those preparations centered on the fact that so many A-list celebrities would be on board, and the crew had been instructed on how to deal with the inevitable paparazzi. Despite the usual warnings, no one from the crew dreamed they would actually have to worry about a terrorist attack on the ship.

  Captain Pickard instructed his communications officer to arrange for a series of crew meetings to be held as soon as possible. Then Captain Pickard started to write down what he and his executive staff would say at the meetings. He only could hope his instructions would be more illuminating to his crew than Agent Scholes had been with him.

  Based on the looks on the faces of the crew members during the hurried security meetings, that hope for a useful information transfer was dashed. By the time the last of the meetings was held, the Maurou was only three hours away from their next port-of-call in Castaway Cay and the crew needed to get busy preparing for their eight-hour layover. The impromptu security meetings were quickly forgotten by most of the crew long before the Maurou found itself stationary in the bay.

  Disembarking thousands of people off of a cruise ship and into a small island port is quite the choreographed production. Every guest wants to be first off the ship to maximize the time away, every skiff bringing in guests wants to make as many runs to shore as quickly as possible, and every crew member involved wants to hang over the rail and tell them all to shut the hell up. Tension is simply part of the game on cruise ships in port. The A-listers, of course, get the services of the onboard helicopter so they can be whisked away from the crowds to some hidden cove for scuba diving, or to a mountain top for a make-up lunch with the wife who just read about the starlet he was supposedly seen with. On this trip there were so many “special people” on board that there was a line once again waiting for the copter. The bickering among the pampered set caused by the long delays brought hidden smiles to the charter planning staff.

  Eventually, most of the passengers were off the ship and into town buying that one-of-a-kind trinket for the grandkids. The few stragglers left behind onboard were seeking peace and quiet and most could be found sunning by one of the ship’s three pools. For a few hours at least, the ship became a relative ghost town. Anyone wandering the decks not wearing those hideous looking red and gold crew members’ shirts stuck out like a beanie at a Texas hat shop. At least that’s what IT Specialist 3rd mate William Marks thought when he ran into just such a person in the fifth deck engineering operations room.

  “Excuse me sir, can I help you?”

  The man was startled when Specialist Marks showed up with him in the empty room, but quickly regained his composure.

  “Oh, I certainly hope so. My name is John Walker, I am in cabin 2-427. I was trying to send this email out but the computer in my room won’t send it. I saw this room with all the electronic gear and hoped I could find someone to send it for me.”

  “Well, sir, there is no email service out of here. This room is just for the internal ship’s electronics, but if you will follow me I will try to send your email from my personal computer.”

  Mr. Walker put on his best smile.

  “Oh, thanks so very much. The email is on this thumb drive.”

  It was just a short walk to Specialist Marks’ room, his home-awayfrom-home, and the two men walked in silence through the empty corridors. When Specialist Marks tried to send the email from his personal computer he got the same error message that Mr. Walker had described. He was about to suggest to Mr. Walker that they could get a phone call out for him, or that he could just wait until he got home to send the message, when Mr. Walker seemed to predict his suggestion and produced an unusual request.

  “Since the problem with the email seems to be common to both the guest and crew mail client applications, they are both probably using the same onboard email server. Perhaps you could try to send the message via the ship’s private email server. Normally, I wouldn’t ask such an imposition, but it’s really important to get this message about my sick brother to my Auntie so she can make plans to go to the hospital back in Palm Beach. I have instructions for his medical power-of-attorney in an attachment that I need to get to her. ”

  Specialist Marks was puzzled. It was only two months ago that he had been taught about the Maurou’s secondary email server and how to use it. It seemed rather odd that Mr. Walker would know about it. But on the other hand, it was Specialist Marks’ first chance to actually use it, and if he could keep a customer happy, why not. When they got to the communications room, Specialist Marks asked Mr. Walker to wait outside as this was a secure room. Mr. Walker said he totally understood and thanked him once again for helping out. When Specialist Marks returned to the hallway, he happily informed Walker that this had done the trick and the email was successfully sent. Mr. Walker thanked Specialist Marks once again and told him his Auntie will be very pleased.

  It wasn’t until nearly an hour after Specialist Marks had returned to the Operations room that his life got even weirder. An alert message was displayed on his console that he had never seen before, so he wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. He had been taught by hi
s mentor and IT manager, Old Man Williams, that before he reported any alerts to check the cabling behind the server rack. It was fairly common for the techs to not get the ethernet cables plugged all the way back in, or to have the tabs on the RJ-45 connectors break. When that happened, the cables had a way of wiggling loose and causing an intermittent connection. Since all the equipment was new and had been in testing right up to leaving port it was a good bet someone left a loose cable behind. Besides, it was a lot easier to check the cabling than write up a stupid service report to the IT Manager.

  When Specialist Marks started poking around the server cabinets, he discovered that one of the back covers on one of the server cabinets was not locked. All ship’s control system server racks were equipped with a lock and at sea they were required to be secured. Specialist Marks found that five of the six cabinets were indeed locked, but one was not. Since this was the Maurou’s first voyage and there had been lots of IT people poking around, it would have been easy to leave a cabinet unlocked, so Specialist Marks wasn’t too alarmed at the oversight. When Specialist Marks opened the back of the unlocked cabinet he saw one more thing that definitely seemed out of place. A thumb drive was plugged into one of the servers USB 3.0 ports.