“Okay, everyone!” she called. Her voice sounded small and weak without the mike. “Everyone, as you can see, the power just went out. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’ll let you know as soon as I know anything.”
Valerie slid back into the chair next to Christine and handed her a glass. Her face was sallow in the greenish emergency lighting that had just come on overhead. “The bartenders are gone,” she said. “I made it myself. I hope this isn’t serious.”
Christine took a gulp. It was straight vodka over ice.
The PA system crackled to life, and the captain’s voice came through, calm and commanding. “Hello, folks, this is Captain Jack. You’ve probably noticed that the power went out. You might have smelled a little smoke, too. There was a small fire, but it’s under control, and we’re working on getting the power back up and running. It’s nothing to worry about, this is temporary, so please try to relax and enjoy your evening and I’ll be back soon with an update.”
“Oh my God,” said Valerie. “Holy shit.”
A few people coughed. Others headed for the exits, propping open the doors to the lounge on their way out.
“Let’s get some fresh air,” said Christine, picking up her drink. As they left the lounge, Christine realized that the constant vibration of the engines underfoot had stopped, along with everything else.
“What happens now?” she heard a woman’s voice ask.
“They’ll get the power back on again,” said her male companion. “They always do. We just have to wait.”
Miriam and Sasha stopped on the stairs leading up to the bridge. Loud voices echoed down below.
“The power went out,” she said. She heard the astonishment in her own voice. A fine, spitting rain had begun to fall, and the air was dark and heavy, with no wind. In the dim light from the sky, Miriam could make out a thin layer of acrid smoke wrapped around the ship, blanketing it.
“Was it the fire?” she said.
“Probably,” Sasha replied. “Let’s go to the bridge.”
Their feet clanged on the metal staircase as they made their way to the top. They hovered together in the open doorway to the bridge. Under a curved wall of enormous front-facing windows, the long control panel was dark. Dim overhead lights, which must have been battery-powered, illuminated the cavernous room with pale greenish light.
Miriam heard Larry before she saw him.
“This is a bad situation,” he said, his loud voice cutting through all the others. “We’re dead in the water.”
As Miriam’s eyes adjusted, she saw him at the back of the room, sitting at a long table next to the captain. They were both speaking at once into handsets. The captain’s voice was low and even, so Miriam couldn’t make out what he was saying over Larry’s sharp projection, but she could hear speakers crackling all over the ship, so she guessed he was making an official announcement. Three young bridge officers had clustered around the conked-out control panel beneath the windows. They were speaking in low voices. Miriam edged in their direction, her ear cocked like an antenna to pick up whatever she could.
“Was it an oil leak, or electrical?”
“I don’t know. But the sprinklers didn’t even come on. They had to go in and turn them on manually. I heard a couple of the engine room crew passed out from the smoke and had to go to the infirmary.”
“I was working on the Sea Star three years ago when that engine fire happened. We waited three days for a tow. Three days! And that was in the Gulf of Mexico.”
“God. What were they thinking, sending us to Hawaii in this piece of shit?”
Miriam stepped closer to Sasha and took his hand as two more young men in uniform tumbled in through an open door, brandishing flashlights. “What happened?” one of them said. In the greenish light from above, he looked half asleep, shocked out of a stupor. It occurred to Miriam that these kids had probably been sleeping and had come upstairs to begin the night shift.
“Engine fire,” said one of the other officers.
“How did it start?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Is it out?”
“It’s contained, but they’re still fighting it.”
“Where’s the power? What about the backup generator?”
“All we have are basic communications and emergency lights.”
“Seriously?”
The other officer jerked his head in the direction of Larry Weiss, who was on his feet now, pacing about the room, shouting into his satellite phone handset.
The officer spotted Sasha and Miriam. “Can I help you with something?”
“We came to find out what was going on,” said Sasha.
“The captain just made an announcement that the fire is contained and the ship is safe,” said the officer. Miriam opened her mouth to explain that they hadn’t heard the captain’s announcement because she’d been standing right here while he made it, but the officer gestured to the open doorway to the stairwell. “You’ll be safer down with the other passengers.”
Larry hung up the phone and turned to the captain. “What a mess. Un-fucking-believable.” He turned to the crewmembers nearby. “What? You’re just standing there? Why aren’t you fixing this shit?” Then he saw Miriam and Sasha and strode over to them and put his hands on their shoulders. “You two,” he said. “Get downstairs and follow instructions. And if you see my wife, tell her to go to our suite and stay there.”
Miriam felt his hand on her shoulder like a steel clamp as he herded them out of the room.
“What’s happening, Larry?” she asked him.
She looked up into his face and met his gaze. He looked startled to recognize her there, surprised to remember who she was, his old friend Miriam.
“It’ll be fine,” he told her, his tone softening. “Little blaze in the engine room, should be out by now, or soon.”
“Will the power come back on?” Sasha asked.
“I’m sure it will,” said Larry with his old easygoing confidence. “Don’t worry, go back to your cabins and be comfortable. We’ll take care of this.”
As Miriam and Sasha went down the stairs, she heard his voice again, penetrating, full of punitive anger at the bridge crew, and felt as if, after all the decades she’d known him, she had just seen Larry Weiss clearly for the first time.
Mick retraced his steps back to the crew lounge in the glow of the emergency lights. He had already concluded that the power had gone out because of the fire. The next logical conclusion was that the crew who’d walked out had deliberately set the fire to sabotage the ship. It seemed crazy. But then again, he had never in his life witnessed a galley crew walk out on their executive chef. He had no idea what they were capable of doing now, how far they were willing to take this insane protest. Maybe Consuelo had actually poisoned Laurens. She had joked about it the other day. At least, Mick had thought she was joking. Who knew anymore?
When he got to the open door to the darkened crew lounge, he heard shouting, chaos, thumps. A few people were lighting candles.
“What’s going on?”
“Why is the power out?”
“Hey,” Mick yelled into the crowd. “Did you assholes start a fire?”
Some began to panic at the mention of fire. There were shrieks, curses. Someone standing close to Mick said something in a low, despairing mutter in a language he didn’t know.
“A fire,” said Mick. “It made the power go out. Does anyone know anything about this?”
“No,” came shouts from several people.
“Where is the fire?” said Trevor.