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might be PICNIC.”
    â€œPicnic?”
    â€œProblem in chair, not computer.” He winked. “The skipper’s old enough to remember eight-tracks. I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t know how to use the ‘new-fangled ’puter machines’ and took those systems off-line trying to get RedTube to load.” 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. “Still, something must be working if we’re in motion. He ain’t flying blind.”
    Noah tried to laugh his fears off. “We’re fine. He’s steering by stars and charts.”
    Martin shook his head, saying nothing. Not laughing. He’d looked outside. He knew there were no stars.
    â€œIf 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€œNot if it was going to get me charged with mutiny.”
    Noah held up his free hand. “I didn’t say anything about mutiny. If Brewster’s headed in a direction based on a best guess and steering us into the Siberian shore, that’s his prerogative as ship’s master. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m being paranoid; I’m sure Brewster knows what he’s doing.” 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, “Let me think about it.”
    â€œI’m not asking you to do anything. Just wondering out loud, I guess.” He waved his hand dismissively. Noah pointed at Martin’s smoke. “You know those things will kill you.”
    The engineer took a deep drag and held it for a moment before exhaling. “I’ve never felt better in my life.”
    Looking at his blanched and sweating face, Noah didn’t believe him.

 
    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. He’d 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 night’s 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 who’d come to visit him, he said, “All out of aspirin and everything else, so don’t even ask. Don’t any of you plan ahead for your hangovers?”
    â€œHow’d you know I wanted an aspirin?”
    Mickle turned and wiped at his brow with a sleeve. Like Marty Nevins, he was sweating despite the ever-present chill on the ship. “I’ve had maybe a dozen guys come up here looking for analgesics. I ran out an hour ago.” He pointed at Noah’s