by Chanel Smith
“I could do a better job of distracting you,” I replied, hoping to get her to relax again. “Besides, you made me promise not to talk about or even think about, let me see, I believe it was ghosts, demons, spirits, aliens, lake monsters, chupacabra, mythical and mystical phenomenon and all other strange and bizarre occurrences.”
“Well, I don’t think we have that luxury any longer,” she replied. “We’re going to have to think about whatever this presence is, because I think it is what has shut off the power to the ship.”
“You’re just messing with me, right? Trying to lead me into a trap or something?”
“I’m serious,” she responded.
“Okay, so what do we do?”
“We have to tell Captain Norris,” she replied.
“Tell the captain? Are you nuts?”
“Monty Drew,” she began. When she put both names together, it was never going to turn out well for me. “We are professionals. I can sense an overwhelming spirit that I think is responsible for circumstances that could become detrimental to more than 2,000 people. I have a duty and responsibility to step in and use my skills to bring about a resolution to this problem.”
Though she could barely see the gesture in the dim light of the stars, I put my hands up in surrender. “Okay, Babe, I understand, but forgive me if I play devil’s advocate for a moment. First of all, Captain Norris has plenty of problems to deal with due to the power outage of this monster vessel. Second, he wasn’t particularly receptive in his belief in the paranormal when the topic was brought up at dinner. Third, he’s already had to deal with one nut job this evening and he’s not going to be eager to talk to a second one.”
“You think I’m a nut job?” she asked.
Shit! That was the wrong choice of words. Back out, Mon. Back out fast. “That’s not what I said. I don’t think you’re a nut job, but he’s going to think you’re a nut job if you go busting onto the bridge telling him that the power outage of his ship is due to an evil presence.”
“I didn’t say it was an evil presence that took over the ship,” she responded. “I said that there was an overwhelming presence that has taken over the ship.”
“But you said that you sensed an evil spirit in Pharaoh.”
“I did, but this other presence is different,” she responded.
“I’m confused,” I replied. “You’re going to have to explain it to me better.”
“I can’t explain it,” she said. “It’s not like anything else that I’ve ever experienced before.”
“And you think that is going to work with Captain Norris, Babe? I know he’s an amiable man, but he has a pretty good-sized crew to run and he’s responsible for all of the souls on this ship. You’re going to have to go to him with something pretty concrete or he won’t listen to you.”
“It’s not so much that I need him to listen to me,” she replied. “I just need to know more of what is going on here so that I can get a better sense of how everything is affected.”
My head was swimming in the lack of substance that she was providing for me. I trusted her senses and had seen her do some pretty astounding things with her gift, but I typically ran the instruments for a reason. I needed substance.
“Babe, I trust your instincts; your gift. I really do, but I need something with a little more substance to work with.”
“Don’t you feel it, Mon?” she asked.
I knew that if it wasn’t dark, I’d be looking into a pair of pleading eyes.
Chapter Nine
On board the Eucalyptus, early Tuesday morning
It hadn’t been easy to navigate the dark hallways to the bridge. We had the light of my cell phone and the map of the ship’s layout that we’d been given when we boarded. We’d finally made it to the bridge and had been accosted by the security officer that was stationed outside the door. It had gone pretty much the way that I thought it would go. The security officer had little interest in listening to Ellen’s explanation about what was taking place on board the Eucalyptus and no interest at all in consulting Captain Norris with that information. In short, we were told to go back to our cabin and go to bed and that the crew would have the power restored by morning.
“We tried,” I said, starting back down the hall holding Ellen’s hand and feeling like I was dragging my reluctant bride along behind me. “We might as well go to bed and just forget about this.”
Though she said nothing, I could tell by the way that she was breathing that she was fuming. I hoped it wasn’t directed at me, but I figured that it probably was. I’d humored her and we’d bumped up against the resistance that I’d expected. I ought to have been smug and enjoying the rare opportunity of being right, but I wasn’t. A part of me knew to trust her. I knew that what she was feeling was real.
When we reached the stairway at the end of the hall, Ellen planted her feet and I felt her pulling back against me. I turned back toward her. “What?” I said.
“We can’t give up that easily,” she said.
“What are we supposed to do then?” I was frustrated and it came out in the tone of my voice.
“Take it easy, Mon,” she said. “Just sit down here on the stairs and breathe a minute. Let’s think this through.”
I did as she asked, though I didn’t respond. Since emergency lighting is meant to light stairwells, I could see her plainly. She had her arms on her shoulders and was hugging herself. Instinctively, I pulled her to me and held her. “Is that better?”
She didn’t respond. She just sat there in my arms and kept her mind working on the problem that was in front of us. We’d changed out of our formal attire and into something more comfortable when we’d made the decision to try to see Captain Norris and she’d opted for long sleeves and jeans instead of shorts and a T-shirt; yet, she was still cold. Since we’d been moving around, for the most part, since the ship’s power went out, I hadn’t really noticed the change in temperature. Sitting there on the step holding Ellen, I felt it for the first time and then it hit me.
“It’s gotten colder!” I exclaimed. “We’re in the South Pacific and I’m wanting a coat.”
“Is that enough substance for you?” she teased.
One of the surefire indicators of a paranormal presence was cold air. I’d measured it dozens of times. I’d even drawn some correlations between how far the temperature dropped in accordance with the intensity of the spirit’s anger.
“I thought you said this presence was evil,” I said.
“Evil and anger are two different things, Mon,” she replied, already knowing what I’d had whirling through my brain.
“We’ve got to figure out a way to get to Captain Norris,” I said, suddenly joining her on the bandwagon. “It’s going to keep getting colder and none of these people are equipped for cold.”
“There are plenty of blankets, but, beyond that…” She didn’t finish the sentence.
I pulled out the map and studied it. There were a lot of places marked as crew only. No doubt those were cabins where the crew slept and where they worked. Those areas were probably also utility closets, storage facilities and other operations of the ship. It wasn’t likely that they were going to mark “Captain’s Stateroom” in big, bold letters for anyone to see; however, the map had been taken from a gutted copy of the ship’s deck plan and not all of the lines had been removed.
“Let’s talk this through,” I said, spreading a portion of the map over onto Ellen’s lap.
“What are we looking at?” she asked.
“Here is the bridge and here is where we are sitting right now,” I said, pointing to the locations on the map in turn. “Here’s the captain’s office.”
“Alright, so how does that help us?” she asked.
“The captain’s stateroom is going to be located in such a place that has easy access to both of these areas, probably even access that allows him to pass between all of them without ever being out in the public hallways, right?”
“Makes sense,�
�� she said. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that his stateroom is probably on this level and behind these areas. You’re going to give your captain the best, right? So, he’s going to have a balcony. It has to be this area right here,” I said, pointing to a place that fit in with my logic.
“That’s a lot of ‘crew access only’ area to attempt to pass through,” she replied.
“Yes, but it’s dark. No one knows who are members of the crew and who aren’t at this point.”
“I don’t know, Mon,” she hesitated.
“I thought you said we couldn’t give up,” I responded.
“I did, but this is—”
“Not giving up,” I interrupted.
“We might spend the rest of our time in a jail cell instead of our plush cabin,” Ellen replied and then sighed heavily. “But I suppose if we don’t try we’ll probably freeze to death and won’t get to enjoy it anyway.”
“Surely they’ll call someone in for an evacuation before all of that, don’t you think?” I asked.
“I think if they were able to do so, it would already be taking place,” she replied.
“You’re going to have to help me out again.”
“You remember that spiritual vortex that you went into in the bayou?”
“How could I forget?”
“I think this entire ship has somehow been swallowed into one.”
“Awesome,” I said. “That’s not the sort of substance I was hoping for.”
“You ready to try to find the captain’s stateroom?” she asked.
“I’m ready to start breaking up furniture and build a fire,” I replied.
“How about we try talking to the captain first?”
I traced a path to a likely entrance to the nearest “crew only” area, turned on my cell phone and holding Ellen’s hand, started navigating the hallways that led to it.
“Do you really think they have jail cells on cruise ships?”
Chapter Ten
Aboard RAN Melbourne, early Tuesday morning
“There better be a damned good reason for dragging me out of my rack, XO,” Captain Oliver Ellington grumbled as he came onto the bridge. The entire crew quickly snapped to attention when they heard his voice. “As you were.”
“We’ve lost a cruise ship, Captain,” Commander Samuels replied.
“Cruise ships aren’t easy things to lose, XO,” he groused. “Fill me in.”
“I will fill you in, Captain, but I need your authorization to dispatch the Newcastle to the LKC. Our helo is on station and flying spirals downstream on the LKH.”
“Newcastle is a mine hunter, XO.”
“Yes, Captain, but she’s the nearest vessel to the LKC and we need her sonar capabilities.”
“Sonar? Did the cruise ship sink?”
“We don’t know, Captain,” Commander Samuels responded. He hesitated a moment. He really didn’t want to be having that conversation with his commanding officer. He wished he had a better word for what had happened, but he didn’t. “It just disappeared.”
“Disappeared, XO?”
Samuels pressed ahead quickly. He wanted to get the captain’s approval to scramble the Newcastle as quickly as possible. “The Newcastle is at the ready and is awaiting your order, Captain.”
“Fine,” Ellington sighed. “Fill me in, XO and have somebody bring a cuppa.”
“Here you go, Captain,” Petty Officer Burns said, placing the cup and saucer on the sideboard of the CO’s chair.
“Thank you, Petty Officer,” he said, taking the cup between his fingers and raising the brim to his lips. He nodded at Samuels to begin.
Burns had also refilled Samuels’ mug and retreated from the two commanding officers.
Commander Samuels began his briefing, being careful to provide every detail of what had transpired and what duties he and his subordinates had performed before finally calling Ellington to the bridge.
“No lights, huh?” Ellington muttered. “That’s bloody bad news, XO. Those bloody buggers are lit up like Christmas trees.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Samuels watched Ellington as he sorted through the information that had been provided to him. The silence in the room was thick. It was typical for everyone present on the bridge to be a little less talkative and on better behavior whenever both the XO and the captain were on the bridge, but the bizarre circumstances that had the two of them there were overwhelming their very best skills and they were void of answers when answers were in high demand.
“Nothing downstream, either?”
“Not since last report, Captain.” Samuels nodded toward Coventry to ask for an update from the helo.
“Kookaburra, copy?” Coventry said into the radio mike.
“Kookaburra, go ahead.”
“Sit rep,” he said, requesting a situation report.
“No change, LC. We’re about 15 ticks to bingo.”
Bingo was the word used to communicate how much fuel the aircraft had before it was necessary to return to the Melbourne. Since the helo had been traveling downstream along the LKH, it was getting further away. Samuels wanted an aircraft or vessel on station at all times.
“Have the Newcastle scramble their bird in relief,” Samuels said, looking toward Captain Ellington and receiving a slight nod of confirmation. “We’ll keep up a rotation until the Newcastle is on station.”
Coventry relayed the order to the Newcastle and then advised Lieutenant Tattingham to remain on station until his relief arrived.
“We may as well turn the entire group toward that heading,” Captain Ellington grumbled. “It looks like we’re going to have a long night without many good answers.”
Samuels had also been feeling the inevitable, but commanding the entire group to alter course was something that he left up to Captain Ellington to decide. He listened to Coventry issue the Captain’s order to the helm, reciting course and speed in the direction of the Eucalyptus’ LKC and then heard the order repeated back to him by the helmsman. When he’d finished that, Coventry called a course change to the entire group, giving the Eucalyptus’ LKC as the Point of Reference—usually called the POR—rather than broadcasting an actual course heading over the air.
“I know Captain Norris,” Captain Ellington began. “Damn good skipper. He was a frigate captain in our group when I was XO for Patterson. He took an early out and started driving for Koala-Kiwi a couple of years ago. You can be assured that he’s doing it right, wherever in bloody hell he is.”
Ellington’s low, calm, conversational voice continued on talking about some of the events that their group had been involved in when they were serving together. Samuels knew that Ellington had felt the tension on the bridge and was using his voice as a sort of soothing background to help the men relax. It not only had its effect on the men, but it was having also working to calm Samuels’ nerves.
“Helo is inbound,” Coventry announced, hesitating to break into Captain Ellington’s narrative, but providing essential information to his commanding officers.
“How long has Tattingham been on watch?” Samuels asked. Tattingham had come on duty while he was on watch earlier and was likely due to rotate out.
“He’s close to the end of his watch, XO,” Coventry responded.
“Scramble another crew, refuel the craft and get it back up in the air,” Samuels ordered.
Coventry relayed the order to Tattingham.
“I can go around again,” Tattingham answered.
Coventry looked toward his COs for a response.
“Rotate him out,” Samuels ordered. “We may need him fresh tomorrow.”
Coventry relayed the XOs response and Tattingham reluctantly assented. Samuels looked over at Ellington. The captain was worried. He knew that situations like the one they were steaming into usually didn’t have a positive outcome, but he had to do everything that he could to keep his crew focused on doing their jobs. To keep them focused, he needed to keep them relaxe
d.
“Did I ever tell you about the time that Captain Norris and I went with Captain Patterson and Commander French on walkabout in Karroun Hill, northeast of Perth?” he said with a low chuckle in his voice.
“The pretense of it all was to hunt roos, but we didn’t have any particular interest in anything but getting a break from the grind and getting skickered. The old man had gotten plenty skickered and was to the point that he was stumbling around the bush.
“Captain Norris had prepared for such an occasion and had brought along a wig that looked like it had been on a bush pig’s arse. Commander French, who’s a Tazzie and bats just like the lot of them, takes the wig and wanders off out in the bush waiting until the old man goes for a widdle.”
Captain Ellington could hardly contain his laughter from the memory.
“The old man was hanging out there when our Tazzie commander comes traipsing up out of the bush with that wig on, looking every bit a sheila, though the ugliest one you ever laid eyes on. The old man couldn’t widdle fast enough and might have even put away his willy before he was finished. He was skickered alright, but he finally recognized Commander French and started in reading him a riot.
“‘Bloody poofter!’ he called him. ‘I’ve a mind to have you at the mast.’”
Laughter broke the tension of the bridge, just as Ellington had planned. Getting himself back under control, he added a conclusion.
“Whenever we were on duty, the old man was always formal, but whenever we were away from the fleet or in private, he always called him Poof.”
Chapter Eleven
Aboard the Eucalyptus, early Tuesday morning
Ellen and I had been able to enter the passages that were meant for crew only and had been lucky enough to come across a couple of uniform jackets. Slipping them on, we were able to navigate the corridors without being so jumpy. It was actually a little too easy, though it probably helped that it was pitch black throughout most of the ship and what crew we happened to bump into were making use of cell phones and flashlights to find their way around.