Chapter Six

 

After dozing for what must have been a few hours, I’m woken by my full bladder, stomach gnawing at itself. Ceely’s arm is still around me, I don’t think she has moved a muscle. When I glance back, she is already wide awake, and blinks her brown eyes at me. I give her hand a squeeze as I move it off of me, then right myself and wait for waves of dizziness to pass. I lumber to the bathroom.

When I emerge, Ceely slides past me and goes in. I look out the window and wait for her. The sun is high in the sky, almost too high to see from the round porthole window. It’s nearly noon. I’m needed on deck, but I have time to grab a bite first.

Ceely steps out, still drying her hands. She tosses the hand towel on the desk. “Good morning. Breakfast?”

“Brunch.”

“Bottomless mimosas, quiche and French toast?”

“Eggs Benedict, I hope. That’s my favorite.” I head for the door, but she holds a hand up and stops me.

Moving ahead, she opens it. She leans out, looks up the hall, then down it, then nods and slides out. She is making sure nobody will see me leaving her room, understanding it is best and safest for both of us. I follow.

Opening the door to the galley, a smell of tomato, spices and cooking meat envelopes us. Past the empty tables and a bus tub still full of dirty coffee mugs from the morning, we head into the kitchen. There, Roshin is wearing an apron and brushing loaves of bread with a butter and herb mixture. A pot of red sauce is bubbling on the stove’s back burner. Meatballs are baking, in neat rows, on a wide sheet pan. There are dirty mixing bowls, cutting boards and other small tools all around.

Jacob is sitting on the only clean spot on the counter, holding a cup of coffee and swinging his legs slightly. He is smiling and blushing when he hears us and looks back, smoothing his expression immediately.

“Good morning! Afternoon?”

Roshin murmurs, “It’s not noon.”

“Good morning, then. We weren’t sure when you’d be up, so we thought we should get lunch going. We did what we could.”

“It smells good,” Ceely says.

His casual remark of not knowing when we’d be up gives me pause… Or does he just mean Ceely? Or just myself? But, no. Ceely would not need my directive to get back to work. Maybe he thinks none of the other men would dare escort her to the kitchen without my approval, and so she would remain confined in her quarters until I woke. It could be nothing. I turn hard eyes on the clerk, and he blinks in shock at the inspection I give him, with red blood rushing up his neck and into his cheeks, he can’t hold my gaze for long. He does know. He must have been snooping on the cameras again.

It doesn’t sit well, but there’s not much to be done about it. He may have shared the news with Roshin -a piece of delicious gossip- but neither of them is well liked or really desires to be liked by the rest of the crew. They are an insular pair. And if Jacob wished to use his knowledge against me, I would have an equal or greater card to play in turn.

I finally drop my gaze, letting Jacob breathe again. I move to the coffee maker, find two clean mugs and pour us both some, while Ceely puts bread into the toaster and finds peanut butter and plates. We sit in the galley, at the table closest to the windows, and enjoy our breakfast. I keep an eye on the horizon to the North, and when I see the glint of the high noon sun off of the black tinted glass of the approaching helicopter, I drain the dregs of my coffee and stand.

“They have things handled in the kitchen, why don’t you come up with me and help the company experts with their tests?”

“Alright.”

Up we go. The brightness blinds me for a moment, aggravates the blood behind my eyes and makes my whole head throb, but after a moment everything settles down and I survey the scene on deck. A few men are gathered in a circle playing cards. Perry stands in the control room, but steps out and meets me when I go to him.

“Good afternoon, Captain. I was just waiting to receive transmissions from the approaching chopper, if you didn’t make it up in time.”

“Well, I’m here, now.” I move past him and radio the chopper, check their credentials against what corporate has given me and clear them for landing. I order that end of the deck vacated, and a few more crewmen come from below as the sound of the helicopter’s blades chopping the air become audible. It coasts down and the gusts pelt and deafen the deck, stirring my shirt and making me shut my eyes until the whirling subsides.

Hopping out of the chopper -keeping their heads low- comes a string of grey-haired white men. It gives the effect of a geriatric clown car. The pilot is the only man under sixty, and he stays in the cockpit of the chopper, as is protocol. If the need should arise to beat a hasty retreat though, I can’t imagine the shuffling old geezers making good time.

Four sidle up to me, shake my hand and make introductions before heading for the flight rig. One hangs back, hands in pockets, staring to one side of the deck. I notice him right away while I’m greeting the others; his posture is stiff, his salt and pepper hair is long and windswept, not corporate but more like an English professor who keeps his finger on the pulse of the culture, stylish despite probably being the oldest one onboard.

Looking around, I realize it is Ceely that he is staring at. She is staring right back, smiling softly, and it twists my guts like they’re being squeezed by a cold hand. I remember Jacob bringing up an old acquaintance wanting to speak to her; an old flame, I was sure. And seeing them, now -how they start to cross the deck toward each other in the same moment, as if pulled like magnets- I know that I was right. He has come to take her away from me.

My body moves on its own, and I intercept him before he gets too close. “Hold it. Who are you?” What does it matter? It doesn’t, but these are the things you ask.

“James Bender.” He sticks out a liver spotted hand. “Nice to meet you, Captain…?”

“Alvarado. What are you doing on my ship and who authorized you to be here?” I want a name. Whoever allowed him to come is going to hear from me. I reject his hand, instead grabbing him by the shoulders and frisking him. He scoffs at the precaution.

“I’m a Carius shareholder, I called in a few favors, pulled a few strings. I think the final approval was from Scott Stephens, or Stephen Scott. -This isn’t necessary, Captain.”

“Like Hell it’s not.” It isn’t. He carries nothing, nothing in his pockets. Not even identification. “What are you doing here?”

Ceely has come up behind me, by then. “He’s here to see me.”

“Hey.” He looks at her and clearly sees the same things I do, or close enough. It’s unacceptable. He steps around me and holds his arms out, she accepts the embrace, sparing me a curtesy glance.

“We’re old friends. It’s been a long time…”

“More than thirty years. I can’t believe it’s really you, Ceely. I thought you were dead. I thought for sure I would come out here and find someone trying to scam the company.”

“It’s me. Let’s go somewhere we can sit and talk.” She looks at me, her eyes take in my folded arms and clenched jaw. “If that’s alright with you, Captain.”

It’s not really a question, because I can’t possibly say that no, it isn’t alright with me. If I show any weakness now, she’ll lose respect for me, and I’ll lose it for myself. I can’t act like a child, throw a fit. I grumble, “I’ll escort you down to my office.”

I force my shoulders down, they shake with the release of tension. I unclench my fists.

Bender, obviously picking up on my hostility, asks, “Is that really necessary?”

I stop. Look back. “This ain’t Northwestern, Professor.” It’s a shot in the dark that they went to the same college. It lands. His face flashes embarrassment and he looks down.

“Of course. Lead on, Captain.”

They don’t say another word as I bring them down below deck, and the white metal of the hallways feels suffocating to me in a way that it never has before. I hold the door as they both step into my office. I’m not sure why I picked my office. I guess I didn’t want to leave them in her room, and I had to afford her more privacy than the galley would provide. Part of me had also been territorial, I suppose. Let them sit a few feet from where we’ve touched and slept together. But as I close the door and cut off my view, I see my office for what it really is.

It's mine, and it has its few perks and fineries, but at the end of the day it is four cold walls, and everything in it is disposable. It’s a temporary shelter, might as well be a cot and tent in the woods. It’s a bone tossed to a middle manager of a floating death trap on the Pacific Ocean. I know it can’t compare to Bender’s house, and neither can my apartment at the company port in Alaska. He’s a shareholder. He has put down roots and made something of himself in a way that I’m sure I never will be able to.

I remember that I never wanted her here in the first place, and why. Try as I might, I can’t protect her, here. And I can’t provide for her, even if we do complete the mission and make it home. Hell, she’s still determined to come face to face with the creature, so far as I know. Of course, I have been hoping to change her mind. Thought maybe I was winning her over.

I should want her to get on that chopper and find a way to live happily for the rest of her days. With him. I should fire her and banish her from my ship, give her no choice. But of course I can’t do that. Whatever happens, I can’t take her choice away from her. I learned that lesson pretty young, watching mom refuse to accept help or move on for years and years, even if I flushed her stash.

I head back up on deck and cross to the rig. The old fellas are working on the engines, and I make rounds of the catwalk, surveying. They take a moment each to explain to me what they are doing, and I pretend to listen. But the whole time I’m wondering what is going on in my office. Are they holding hands? Driven to touch each other in familiar ways, the way that lovers are? Maybe they didn’t bother with small talk or little touches. Maybe they’re fucking on my desk, right now. Wrinkled skin flapping and grey pubes meeting…

Probably they’re talking, and that’s almost as bad. Catching up on the years. Him humbly bragging about everything he has and subtly implying how comfortable he could make her, reminiscing and teasing and tempting her. She will tell him the truth of her thirty-year disappearance. He will believe her, knowing what a capable mind she has, and he will ache for her even more once she regales him with the whole, sad story. I know I did. She will come to the present, and she won’t detail her relationship with me. Maybe it will live and die in secret, sacred to the both of us… He will seize the chance to try to make me seem unreasonable, maybe even dangerous, asking, “What’s up with that guy, anyway?”

I’m sweating and stewing, and feeling sorry for myself for a full hour, when I notice that the two of them have come back on deck. They cross to the helicopter, with her hand on his back the entire time, guiding him. His face is blank, he doesn’t speak as she opens the door for him and says something. It’s only once she hugs him again that he breaks out of his stupor. He takes hold of her arms, holds her. Makes a final, impassioned plea. She is unmoved, shakes her head and touches his arm once more as she encourages him to board the chopper. He does climb in, sitting on the bench seat, and looks content to sit there until takeoff, however long that may be. I can still see his face through the window. He looks so lost that it actually makes me feel sorry for him. If she leaves me, I’ll know what that feels like.

A weight drops off of me, stops compressing my chest. I can breathe again. Ceely looks our way, finds me across the stretch of water. I can’t really make out her expression, but I nod to her and I think she nods back. I see Perry run to catch up with her, and I know he will escort her safely back to the kitchen.

Lunch has long since passed. She will have a lot of cleaning and prep to do for a successful dinner service. I wish I could go and help her. Hear her humming along with the radio, know that she is alright. Is she? Have we both just made the biggest mistake of our lives?

No, I can’t think like that. She came thirty years forward in time, to when I was ready to meet her, capable of giving her what she desires if not what she deserves. She found my ship in the middle of the ocean, not anybody else’s. And given a few good chances to leave and claim almost everything a person could ever want in life, still she chooses to stay.

If the creature comes, and the ship goes down, I won’t have time to bother with guilt, wonder if it’s my fault she’s here. I know I’ll just be thinking of finding her so we can be together at the end.