Murmansk-13

The room fell silent again, crewmen bowed their heads. Then flimsy plastic capped metal chair legs scraped across linoleum. Chattering as the little chair clattered to the floor. “Oh this is awesome man, this is fucking awesome. We’re as good as a year from home and we have no cryo, no food, no water and soon no fucking air.”

“Sit down Hernandez.” Tor stood and watched the diminutive Mexican rage. Nilsen also got up.

“No Captain. no. We’re fucked man. Fucked. Fucking Commie prick.” He balled a paper cup and threw it aside.

“Hernandez calm yourself.” Now most of the crew were standing, Tala Herrera was bee lining through chairs and frozen colleagues, Sammy was backing away from him.

Hernandez flailed at the wall, denting the plastic, his second shot cracked the panelling. He turned his body for a third shot when Tala came up behind him, bracing his arms from behind. He flung his head backward as if to try and headbutt her, deftly she moved sideways, dragging him to her side and sweeping his leg out from underneath him. They both tumbled to the floor. Nilsen, Pettersson and Peralta stood over the pair.

“Calm down!” Tala hissed into her friends ear.

“Okay, okay,” Hernandez’s breathing was heavy with exertion. “Okay.”

Hernandez struggled from Tala’s grasp and rolled to his side. Peralta and Pettersson helped Tala to her feet. Nilsen loomed over Hernandez who stayed on the floor.

“Another outburst like that Hernandez and you’re done, got it? I’ll have you medicated and put in sickbay.” Tor was already regretting giving Hernandez another chance after Snake’s Head. The kid was unhinged. Rumour had it that he was addicted to amphetamines and had been booted from his previous contract due to possession onboard. He’d twice neglected drug testing and was on his final strike with Saudi. Tor had intended to covertly have his cabin searched, but if word got back to Hernandez it would only have made the trip less tenable. At the time Hernandez would only have had a month left and Tor could have ensured he never flew with the company again. Now they were stuck with him and without cryo for how long, nobody knew.

Hernandez rose to his feet and retrieved his chair. Dejected, he slumped back into it in silence. Everybody else returned to their seats. The outburst provided no catharsis, only winding the tension further. All the crew were sat a little too erect.

“As a Captain, I couldn’t in good conscious leave Chief Officer Falmendikov here. For whatever reason he brought us here, it is unfortunately our duty to man a search and rescue,” Hernandez threw up his hands in exasperated silence. Tor’s mind raced with the implications of Falmendikov’s actions and the dire state he had left the Riyadh in. “Now our situation dictates that we also use this as a salvage operation. Bosun, I defer to you, you were a sailor before you came into space you’re the most experienced here. What do you think?”

Peralta’s face rarely expressed an emotion. Whatever had paralyzed his right sided features had lent him an intangible inscrutability. “About twenty years ago, I was still an AB then, I was on a little gas carrier, twenty thousand tonner. We were caught up in a Pacific typhoon about a couple of days out of Taiwan. It’d come on faster than the forecasts and we were being tossed about like a toy in a bathtub.

“Anyhow, we were sailing with this Steward. Older fella. He’d had some problems, his little girl was very sick and his home had been badly damaged in some flooding outside Iloilo. I guess he’d taken out some life insurance and a day’s heavy weather and broken sleep had convinced him his time was at an end.

“In the morning he didn’t show for breakfast, the two galley boys were left in a panic with a bunch of unhappy and tired officers and engineers. They tried to summon him on the phone, then banged on his cabin door, but he was gone.

“A steward doesn’t just fall overboard due to his work, so you kind of knew what had happened. Anyhow, the waves were still big, green sea breaking over the bow. Ship was surging and pounding and yawing all at the same time but we still had to turn and look for him though. Had to put the ship broadside to the waves.

“I guess if the sea had been any bigger, or the Master had decided it was too dangerous we wouldn’t have done it. But the Captain, he was a Norwegian fella too, he said ‘you never leave a man in distress.’ Do as you’d have others do unto you, I suppose.

“We can’t leave the Chief and I know we can’t leave here without some parts and pieces. Your likes of young Hernandez here might not like it, but I don’t see what other option we have.”

The Bosun’s left eye seemed to wince at the memory. An old friend, probably. Then his expression returned to its usual impassive state. Tor surveyed the faces before him again, grim, but he hoped in some way placated by the nascent plan of action.