The survivors were given a floor of offices to rest in, as well as changes of clothes. Although considering what they had arrived wearing, the old t-shirts and sweatpants were a strange adjustment.
“Is this the final depths?” A deckhand abruptly asked after they’d been escorted through the showers and back to the hastily laid-out dorms. Every part of this felt like the heavens promised after a hard life of sailing. He’d never looked so clean or felt so full.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Odin said, rolling his eyes at the superstition. Even he could admit he didn’t understand half of what he was seeing but he knew the reason for that wasn’t anything mystical. “And besides, if this were the final depths you think that old wax rag would’a sunk with us?”
The group stifled a laugh as they looked at the still heavily sedated chart-keeper who groggily rocked his head back and forth aimlessly.
“And there’s no way Kegin wouldn’t be the first stuffing his mouth.” Another sailor murmured as the missing spot beside him became that much more apparent.
“They took his body, right?” Another asked toward the few who’d been taken into the clinic.
“Yeah, they rushed it away, but I definitely heard them say he wasn’t breathing.”
A mournful silence filled the air. Everyone wanted to say some words, but beyond the stupid jokes, they all made with each other. They really didn’t know a thing about the man beyond him stepping on and off the ship. Did he have a family? A wife, children? The crew was still newly formed, so they didn’t know each other enough to discuss those things.
And beyond that, talking about home only invites disaster many sailors believe. So it had almost become a silent taboo.
“For Darris, Jerima, and Kegin.” Captain Odin says lifting his water bottle aloft, “Long may they rest in the coral gardens beyond.”
“Hei Hei.” The men chant in mixed unison raising their own bottles to follow suit.
Each knocking back the bottles as their toast to the dead, the men didn’t notice the sound of shuttering door, nor would they have recognized it contextually anyways. So, the EMT pushing a wheelchair wasn’t immediately discovered as he entered.
“Killing me off a bit easy there aren’t ye?” A familiar voice asks, causing more than a few people to choke on their gulps of water.
“Kegin?” The first sailor to mention him mutters in disbelief. His friend looked pale, and the leg which had been mangled beyond recognition was now wrapped in a thick layer of white gauze.
“How are you…” The sailor who overheard the doctors, stammers in disbelief. “They said you died.”
“His heart stopped momentarily but we were able to get him back.” The Doctor attempts to explain.
If anything, the explanation only did more to shock the sailors. Kegin had died, and the Doctor confirmed it. Yet, recovering from that was phrased almost like it was little more than a mild inconvenience to their work. The group was speechless, Kegin included.
“I’ll leave you to it.” He mutters as he realizes they were beginning to look at him with a strange light in their eyes. As he reaches the door, a final thought returns to his mind. “Right, I forgot to mention. We’ve arranged a lifeboat with some supplies and water for whenever you’re recovered enough to return home.”
Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
The offer shook the random thoughts from their heads as their minds returned home at its mention.
“Thank you, Chad,” Kegin says over his shoulder for what must have been the tenth time since he regained consciousness.
“Yeah, yeah get some rest.” Chad nods with his usual smirk. “Need anything just use the walkie, or you can go find the guard stationed on the bottom floor.”
With that, he left the sailors to reunite in peace.
And reunite they did. Going through all they did, the walls that once existed separating them as mere crewmates had shattered.
They asked about each other’s families, hobbies, and aspirations. The dam had broken as they began regaling each other with old stories, anecdotes, and philosophies. Tears were shed and laughs were had, and even a few punches were thrown.
“Realistically how much iron does each of these cost?” Steve asks as he flips through the folder to the various cast metal components. “Iron isn’t exactly growing on trees anymore.”
“Yeah but it's not exactly short in supply either. These aren’t thousand-horsepower monsters. Its 150cc, these engines are gonna be the size of a breadbox. They aren’t meant to get anywhere quick but they’re faster than sailing.”
Another voice followed the brief explanation from the project lead. “By cautious estimates, we’ve got a few hundred tons of scrapable steel, yeah it’s not a massive supply but even a thousand of these engines wouldn’t make a dent.”
‘Hundreds of tons?’ Steve mouths silently to Jack who sat across from him.
Seeing the nod Steve shrugs and flips to a few different pages in the proposal he’d marked.
“Steve what do you say about adding some defensive capabilities to these things.” A muffled voice asks over the conference call. “I mean we saw firsthand just how little we know about this place.”
“So each of ‘em should have AA cannons?” Steve asks with arched eyebrows. The logistics of fueling and manufacturing these things alone was near impossible and now they were supposed to mass produce ammunition? “No. These are boats. Not battle ships. Our defense will come in the form of the completion of the Clover.”
“Regarding that actually,” Shipyard Foreman Sarah Fulson pipes in, “Have you seen the newly proposed revisions?”
Steve glanced at Jack who shook his head with a shrug. “No, I haven’t caught that yet. Elevator pitch?”
“Cut completion date by three months by stripping out all radar deflection, active-camo systems, basically all the cyber-age bullshit.”
“Strategically…”
“Wouldn’t change a ton,” Jack fills in before Steve shows his naivety on the topic. “Considering how we want to use the ship we aren’t going to need to worry about 21st-century war tactics.”
“And we’re confident the railguns will be plenty?”
“With all due respect, what are the other options?” No answer came to her question so she continued, “I’ll be blunt, making shells would be an absolute fucking mistake. We’ve got no background in it, and R&D for that stuff is paid for in blood. It’s not a question of if we think railguns will be enough.”
“It’s just a prayer that they will be.” Another muffled voice fills in.
‘Right,’ Steve says mostly to himself as he again returns his sight to the ship design laid out in front of him. ”Let’s not fail.”
No one could argue that desire. They’d never felt such a fire burning inside them. Gears were turning as an entirely new set of challenges began to appear in their minds.
*BRNNGG* *BRNNNG*
A quiet tone came from the terminal centered on the table as well as a green light igniting in sequence.
“I’m getting another call. Hold on.” Steve said pressing the hold button followed by the number two.
“This is Steve,”
A crackling noise and static filled the air from the small speaker. “Boss, things are pretty messy over here. That dart didn’t stop with the ship. It came all the way to these guys' city.”
A pit filled the two men’s stomachs as they remembered the dart flying away the day prior. If only they had been prepared.
A fist pounded the desk.
“Chad, tell the survivors we’re sending aid. Stay there and tend to whoever you can, we’ll be sending backup as soon as possible.”
Pressing two buttons on the phone Steve switches to the dedicated emergency line. Not a single ring later a voice answered with a rushed tone.
“If this is about Irias we are already prepping.”
“G--Good, we’ll have the training skiffs ready,” Steve says after a moment of surprise. Turning to Jack to give the instructions he’s interrupted by another pleasant surprise.
“Already on it,” Jack responds with a nod as he pulls the radio from his mouth.
Steve tried to respond but he felt unsure what more to do, his hands hovered between his radio and the conference phone. He was happy the team was so quick to respond but he also suddenly felt a bit useless. Not that it was a particularly dreadful thing.