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foot sticking out of the instrument room. He assumed the man owning the limb was Martin Nevins, the ship’s engineer and mechanic. Noah walked over, curious to see how things had turned out, since he had no recollection after hitting his head. The last time he saw the room, it was a toxic mess of fire retardant and electrical smoke. Not much had changed.
    â€œHey Marty. How’s it look?”
    The engineer sat back and wiped at his forehead with a dirty forearm. He was sweating despite the chill in the room. “Looks like hell is what it looks like.” He sized Noah up and added, “You don’t look any better.”
    Noah brushed at the cut on his forehead with his fingers and wondered how bad the bruising on his face was. Aside from the hospital and the lockers in the change rooms, there weren’t many reflective surfaces on the Promise. He hadn’t thought to look in the mirror inside his closet. For all he knew, half of his beard might have been singed off in the fire. He ran his hand down his face to reassure himself he didn’t resemble a half-man/half-woman sideshow attraction. “I’m sure it looks worse than I feel. Or maybe the other way around. I don’t know.” He pointed at the instrument stack he’d extinguished. “Fire was in propulsion, huh? Is it salvageable?”
    â€œYeah. I mean, no way. Yes, the fire hit propulsion, but it’s not even a little salvageable. The thing is well and truly fucked; we’re running on the backup.”
    â€œAnd if that one goes out?”
    Martin huffed a laugh through his nose. “You know what happens then.” He didn’t have to say it. He pulled a cigarette out of a pack and lit it. Smoking wasn’t allowed anywhere on board except the exterior decks. But then, who would be able to pull the smell of a Kamel Red out of the mélange of other noxious scents poisoning the air on D? “What are the chances they both get wrecked, huh?”
    Noah shrugged. He didn’t want to say it out loud. He didn’t believe in jinxes and bad luck, but it still lived in him, like the fear of elevators falling down their shafts and the bus in your blind spot that only appeared once you step off the curb. Then again, you didn’t need to believe in bad karma to know that Brewster had been pushing the engines extra hard. If they sailed into another storm, they could have much bigger problems than ice.
    Martin took a deep drag of his cigarette and blew a long stream of smoke toward the ceiling. “Speakin’ of getting wrecked, I got a bottle of J&B in my cabin. You up for a snort later?”
    â€œDefinitely. Come find me; I’m bunking on C now.”
    â€œThat’s a good thing. Down here is no place to be.”
    Noah held out a fist for Martin to bump. The mechanic knocked his knuckles against Noah’s a little too hard and smiled with the half of his mouth not occupied with his coffin nail. The pair had shipped out together in the past, but both of them hailing from New England provided more of a bond than any of their experiences hauling concrete and gas into the Arctic Ocean.
    Noah turned to go. “Hey, uh, you know what the deal is with communications or navigation systems?”
    â€œWhat? You missing your ‘stories’?”
    Noah laughed. “I was talking to Brewster, and radio and sat phones are both down. I’m guessing that means dynamic positioning, too. I was just wondering if you knew what was going on.”
    Martin stood and tilted his head to the side as if he was trying to tell what kind of mythical creature was talking to him. “First I’m hearing of it. There isn’t a thing built by man I can’t fix, but if both radio and satellite have shit the bed at the same time, that ain’t mechanical. Not unless we’re really getting the smackdown from the gods; they’re separate systems. It might be the weather interfering. Or it