might be PICNIC.â
âPicnic?â
âProblem in chair, not computer.â He winked. âThe skipperâs old enough to remember eight-tracks. I wouldnât be surprised if he doesnât know how to use the ânew-fangled âputer machinesâ and took those systems off-line trying to get RedTube to load.â He took another deep drag off his smoke, pinched the ember off the end and ground it out underfoot. He stuffed the filter back into the pack. âStill, something must be working if weâre in motion. He ainât flying blind.â
Noah tried to laugh his fears off. âWeâre fine. Heâs steering by stars and charts.â
Martin shook his head, saying nothing. Not laughing. Heâd looked outside. He knew there were no stars.
âIf we needed to shut down propulsion for a while ⦠you know, just to make sure it was working properly ⦠you know, like to run a diagnostic something or other, you could do that right?â
âNot if it was going to get me charged with mutiny.â
Noah held up his free hand. âI didnât say anything about mutiny. If Brewsterâs headed in a direction based on a best guess and steering us into the Siberian shore, thatâs his prerogative as shipâs master. I shouldnât have said anything. Iâm being paranoid; Iâm sure Brewster knows what heâs doing.â Noah felt his headache creeping back in a little, pushing at the edges. He should have grabbed more Tylenol from Mickle in the hospital.
Martin looked like he wanted that drink right now. Instead, he lit another cigarette. Shaking his head, he said, âLet me think about it.â
âIâm not asking you to do anything. Just wondering out loud, I guess.â He waved his hand dismissively. Noah pointed at Martinâs smoke. âYou know those things will kill you.â
The engineer took a deep drag and held it for a moment before exhaling. âIâve never felt better in my life.â
Looking at his blanched and sweating face, Noah didnât believe him.
Â
5
Noah stowed his things in his new room. The ship was built to accommodate forty crew members. All the cabins on C-Deck were designed for double occupancy, but with the bare bones complement of sixteen men spread between B and C, none of the crew had to share a room. Moving from his single occupant cabin into the new one meant Noah had twice the space, not that he needed it. Still, it was nice to have walls a little farther apart from each other. If he was going to be confined to quarters, he appreciated being assigned somewhere less confining. Stretching out in the new space, he tried to tamp down his growing feelings of resentment toward Brewster for making him sleep in the single bunk cabin so far belowdecks. He was as successful at that as he was managing his building headache. It had grown stronger since talking to Marty. He dug through his bag trying to find something to beat back at it, but was unsuccessful. Heâd forgotten to pack any painkillers.
Peeking out the door, he found the passageway oddly silent. There were thirteen cabins and the gym on this deck, but if anyone was on C with him, they were still sleeping off last nightâs nightmare.
He left his cabin and climbed to the First Deck, between A and the wheelhouse. He walked past the crew change rooms and the head, to the sick bay. Inside, Mickle was tending to Felix. Without turning to see whoâd come to visit him, he said, âAll out of aspirin and everything else, so donât even ask. Donât any of you plan ahead for your hangovers?â
âHowâd you know I wanted an aspirin?â
Mickle turned and wiped at his brow with a sleeve. Like Marty Nevins, he was sweating despite the ever-present chill on the ship. âIâve had maybe a dozen guys come up here looking for analgesics. I ran out an hour ago.â He pointed at Noahâs