Captain’s chair, Pops. His actual chair. I may freak out.
Mannix knew he would do no such thing as he scanned the desk screen in front of him, pleased at all the green lights and making note of the yellow one. Each was listed in the status report he sent to the Engineers in the Back, but he knew from his previous experience as a watch stander in the Back that these issues could only be fixed under strictly controlled conditions in dry dock, a situation unlikely to ever happen without a miracle.
“Everything signed off, mister?”
Mannix flushed at Reuben Pettigrew’s snide tone, but the Third Officer outranked him. Plus, Mannix was a certified bridge officer for all of one hour. It was his first time in the big chair. “Yes, sir. Copy in your inbox.”
“About time.”
“Sir, I have the conn if you would like some downtime.”
“Mister, I get downtime when the Captain or First Officer says I do. Same for you. Focus on your own screen.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Well, I tried. At least you haven’t called me a Trogg. Well, not in front of me. Mannix wasn’t going to let Reuben’s bad mood spoil his day. He’d been floating on a cloud since the day the Engineer gave him this opportunity.
+++
It was his first time in the Engineer’s office, and his heart still hadn’t slowed down since her summons for him to join her there.
“Mannix, I’m going to be blunt. Ever heard of the phrase ‘neither fish nor fowl’?” the Engineer asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“That will be you. Burners won’t include you in their bullshit sessions, and the Crew will think you’re a plant to spy on them. You’ll be on the outside looking in for the next three years. Knowing the Captain and First Officer, they’ll do their best to ease your transition, but there’s only so much they can do. Even so, I’m not worried.”
“Ma’am?”
“You’ve got a strong, ethical character, and you may be the smartest person in every room you enter. I wish there was an open job in my senior team to fully utilize your skills, but there isn’t. This opportunity is perfect for you then. Maybe you’ll get a better chance to prove yourself in Front than in the Back. Maybe people up there will have more open minds, too.”
Mannix knew exactly what she was talking about. “Thank you, ma’am. I’m used to it.” He waved at his body. “Lot of people I’ve met already have their minds made up when it comes to Troggs.”
“How do you handle it?”
“Well, I don’t twist them into a pretzel, if that’s what you’re asking.” When Joro laughed, he joined her. “I do my best and ignore the whispers.”
“Bravo. Everyone whispers, Mannix. Believe me.” The Engineer looked at her screen. “You will be relocating to the Front for the duration. I’m told that your quarters and an office are waiting. Let Pops know, then get on your way. Questions?”
“Today? Now?” Mannix was flabbergasted.
Joro smiled. “Yes, things on this ship move at light speed or snail speed. Nothing in between. Is that a problem for you?”
“No, ma’am.”
“On your way.”
Mannix didn’t think his feet touched the deck until he got to Pops’s junkyard, where he realized for the first time that he was leaving his home. Brooklyn was the best neighborhood in the ship to Mannix, and he felt lucky to have been raised by his neighbors and double-blessed to live with Pops, who inherited a wasteland full of the most eclectic range of electronic and mechanical spare parts collected from all over the ship through the centuries. When the Technicians couldn’t duplicate a piece of whatever, they came knocking on Pops’s door.
The old man wasn’t in their shared quarters. Mannix keyed their internal intercom. “Pops.”
The speaker cackled immediately. “What are you doing home, boy?”
“I got news.”
“I’m working on a condenser.”
“Be right there.” Mannix went through their quarters to the supply rooms, a series of long, wide corridors lined with shelves organized in a way that only he and Pops understood. Condenser parts were in a room two-thirds of the way into their complex, and he took his time walking there, his hand trailing on the dusty shelves.
My last time. I’m leaving home. I’ll be back, but it won’t be the same.
He found Pops tightening a fixture on a condenser, as he said over the intercom. Mannix watched him work and, as ever, couldn’t figure out how old the man was. His hair was always pure white against his dark skin, but he never seemed to age.
He counted himself lucky to have been adopted by Pops twenty years ago when the old man stumbled on a lost little boy outside of the Kasugano Beya neighborhood. All these years later, neither of them ever learned the reason for Mannix’s banishment, but Pops took him in and raised him as a son anyway.
Along the way, the old man taught Mannix to question everything while keeping his thoughts to himself. They agreed on almost everything except for Pops’s left leg. He lost it in an unfortunate compressor accident before Mannix was born but refused a cloned replacement.
“The Good Lord meant for me to learn something, and I ain’t gonna let technology change what I am,” Pops always said.
When Mannix pointed out that he was the Back’s preeminent small parts technology dealer, Pops waved him off and retreated to his vast inventory.
Mannix smiled at the old man wrestling with the condenser. “Need help?”
Pops paused. “Nah. Just need to teach it who’s the boss.”
“Looks like it already knows.”
“Shut up.” Pops laughed as he wiped his forehead with a red rag, then he focused on Mannix. “What happened?”
“What do you mean?” Mannix was sure his public expression was locked in place.
“Known you since you were shorter than my good leg.” Pops squinted. “It’s big, whatever it is.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?”
The impact of his words hit Mannix hard. “Yeah.”
“Where are you going?”
Mannix outlined where the Engineer was sending him.
Pops wiped the rag over his entire face. “Joro first, and now the Captain. You’re keeping some company. Yeah, you gotta go. I knew something like this was coming, but it’s still huge, ain’t it?”
“Yeah. Never guessed.”
“I did. You were always destined for something greater than this.” He waved at the shelves.
“I would have been happy. I am happy.” Do you hear what I’m really saying, Pops? I love you, old man.
“But not satisfied. Big difference.” Pops waved the rag at the door. “Better get going. First lesson on the bridge is that you don’t keep the Captain waiting.”
“Pops…” Mannix wanted to tell him but couldn’t find the words.
“I hear you, son. Invite me up sometime, okay?”
+++
As Mannix scanned his screen on the bridge for the hundredth time, he realized that was the first time Pops called him “son,” and his eyes misted a little.
I’ll get Pops up here as soon as I don’t share a shift with Reuben.
During Mannix’s transition and bridge training, the Third Officer was the most difficult person to deal with. He seemed to take the Burner’s presence as a personal offense, managing to imply daily that Mannix was as far from being a member of the Devereaux family as was possible on the ship. If the Third Officer could get his way, Mannix was sure he would be sent to the Back in a second.
Conversely, the Crew and Burners accepted him faster than he anticipated, especially those on the bridge. There was the usual joking that came with being the new kid, but he also felt their palpable relief when he was introduced. As for the Burners, they were happy to learn that “someone up there finally knows what they’re doing,” as one email said.
The training wasn’t hard since he was on the Burner end of bridge operations for two years. Once he figured out that he needed to flip everything 180 degrees in his brain, the answers to all his questions came easy. Even the First Officer seemed amazed how quickly he picked things up.
He smiled at the thought of the First Officer. She likes to think she’s Captain Ahab, but as long as I don’t screw up, she’s fine. I wonder if she ever read Moby Dick.
“Something funny up there, mister?” The Third Officer’s voice grated on his nerves, but Mannix long sworn not to let people with small minds get to him.
“No, Mr. Pettigrew.”
“Get back to your boards.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
His board whistled, and he opened the channel. “Bridge.”
“Mr. Mannix, report to me in my office.” The First Officer closed the channel before he could reply.
He looked at Reuben and spoke formally. “Sir, you have the conn.”
“I have the conn.” The Third Office didn’t look at him as he stood. “Get out.”
Mannix heard the unspoken word—Trogg—but brushed it off as he entered the passageway and paused for a second to study the portraits of past captains. There were hundreds extending down the wall, with a blank spot waiting for the current captain’s official portrait.
I’ll never have a picture here, but to even see this, here and now, is something I could never have imagined.
When he knocked on the First Officer’s door, a voice called, “Enter.”
He opened the door, walked in, and stood tall in front of the desk.
The First Officer was reading a pad, scrolling through the pages rapidly until she found the one she wanted. “Have a seat.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
She set the pad down and looked at him. “How are you doing?”
“Fine, ma’am.”
“Let’s go informal. Call me Kathy.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He liked her laugh. “No, seriously. Please. Do you have a nickname? ‘Mannix’ seems so stern.”
“No… Kathy.” The name felt weird in his mouth.
“I can see why. You must be the most serious person I’ve ever seen on the ship.” She looked at a second pad. “You don’t go to team parties after shifts, and you only talk on the bridge or in meetings when absolutely necessary.” She looked at him. “Don’t you like us?”
“Yes, ma’am… I mean, Kathy. Just my nature.” The excuse sounded lame in his ears.
“Well, if that’s your worst weakness as a person, it’s better than most people’s.” She drummed her fingers on her desk. “Okay, what I am about to tell you is strictly confidential. The Captain, the Engineer, and I are the only ones who know. You will be the fourth. Everyone will know in a week. Can you keep it a secret for that long? Even from Pops?”
“Of course.”
“We’ll see.” She laughed. “If you can keep Pops from learning any secret on this ship, you’ll have to tell me how.”
“He knows people.”
“He does, indeed. Okay, here goes. There will be a formal ceremony in a week in the Crew’s mess where you will be promoted to Second Officer.”
Mannix’s mind blanked. “Sorry?”
“I said—“
“I heard what you said, but that’s insane.”
Kathy bit her lip.
She’s trying not to laugh at me.
“Think it through,” she urged. “Why are the Captain and I picking you as Second Officer? Say it out loud.”
The answers came easily. “No one else is qualified. No other Devereauxes have the necessary training except for you, the Captain, and Mr. Pettigrew. Maybe except for Mr. Pettigrew’s father.” Mannix met the elder Pettigrew and was not impressed. Pops would have said he was “all chassis and no engine.”
“And?” Kathy prompted.
“We need watch standers now, and the bridge support crew in the Back are the most logical option.”
“Very good.”
“But why me?”
“You’re the best of the best. You clearly have the disposition and maturity to handle everything that comes with this promotion and with the integration of our crew and Engineer crews. The Captain is sending a signal—he’s ready to break every tradition he can to get us safely to Landfall. He and I think you are the message.” She paused. “This is a huge compliment to you. Historic too. Is that a problem?”
Mannix thought quickly. “To be honest, I’ll be worrying too much about doing my job right. Everything else will fall in place.”
“Good answer.”
“May I ask about Mr. Pettigrew?”
“About you outranking him or about him being his usual pain in the ass?” Kathy didn’t wait for an answer. “I will be sitting him down where you are and reading him the riot act. But let me say this—if you come complaining to me or you have to take official action because of his attitude, I will consider that a failure on your part, not his. You are his senior officer for a reason. Solve him. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.” Kathy looked Mannix over. “You really didn’t know what we were doing with you? You’re in the Second Officer’s quarters.”
“I honestly thought it was because you were expediting my training and wanted me closer to the bridge.” Mannix felt dumb now that he thought about it. It’s not like they don’t have a dozen empty cabins nearby. “I never imagined that—“
“We put a Trogg on the bridge? Yeah, let’s get that out in the open. Do you understand ‘nature versus nurture’?” she asked. “The Captain and I agree it’s bullshit, and we only have to look at the Devereaux family as proof. They’re supposed to be the ship’s elite thinkers and leaders, but most are like Reuben. You are the opposite of the Devereauxes, for all the right reasons.”
She paused for effect. “If all Troggs are like you, I’ll order up a hundred and make them Crew.”
“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t lived with them since I was eight.”
“Really? Well, their loss and our gain.” She stood and offered her hand. “Congratulations, Mr. Mannix.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” He shook her hand.
“What’s your first name again?”
“Josiah.” He took Pops’s name many years before.
“I think I’ll call you Manny.” She laughed at his frown. “Hey, it could be worse. You could have my nickname.” She held up a hand. “No. I won’t tell you. Get out of here.”
“Thank you, Kathy.”
Reuben growled at Mannix when he returned to the bridge, saying his energy consumption reports contained errors. Mannix knew otherwise but chose not to push back.
You and I are going to have a serious chat about your personality in a few days, especially about the value and effectiveness of passive-aggressiveness.
Or as Pops would say, “Fitting twenty pounds of your bullshit in a one-pound bag.”