“I’d eat you first! Chop-chop-chop!” announced Dalmar, reaching down to pinch Vitaly’s ribs just below his armpit. The Russian practically squealed in laughter.
“Nyet—I eat you!” retorted Vitaly as he slapped at Dalmar’s rear. Alexis stifled a snort as she watched the debate quickly devolve into a flurry of poking and poorly translated insults. It amazed her what a little sugar to the bloodstream, and a few regular meals, could do for crew morale.
Her chuckle turned to a sigh and then a yawn. It was nearly five in the morning and she’d already been up for two hours. She supposed it didn’t matter, not really. Day was no different than night within the belly of the Scorpion. The artificial light and lack of a regular watch rotation made it all but impossible to keep a schedule, which left her free to lose time in maintenance projects and her own drifting thoughts.
Dalmar retreated toward the stern, his booming laugh echoing down the narrow corridor. But that was Dalmar and Vitaly — drifting together and momentarily igniting like a crescendo of fireworks, only to drift apart once more. It wasn’t just the difference between cultures; it was something more fundamental than that. They were two wanderers content to share their worldly spheres — but only for a moment. It was as though they somehow knew larger forces would ultimately tear them apart, leaving them with nothing more than fading, happy memories of each other.
Maybe it would be the same for her and Hassan. Thrown together, only to be driven apart. In her weaker moments, she felt she didn’t really know the stranger in her bed. They shared so little — different cultures, different lives, their few moments together shaped by the fear and violence surrounding them.
Sometimes her only guiding light was his tiny kindnesses, like the nights when she turned over to find him awake and watching her, his arm tucked under her warm cheek. The way he furrowed his brow and shook his head when she criticized herself, as though her doubt was not just misplaced but antithetical to how he understood the universe. The way he couldn’t pass her in the corridor without extending his soft hand to brush against her hips or waist, no matter how much engine oil and leaking fuel covered her.
There were difficulties. She’d often try to talk about her friends back in Texas, the television shows she’d once liked, favorite foods, her college roommates, her family. But these conversations would always fall into one useless tangent or another as she tried to explain the impossible — things like tailgating, barbeques, field parties, drive-through burger joints, or the differences between hooking up and going out and engaged to be engaged.
He’d try the same, but his culture was equally baffling. There were so many words like tahnziz and tabergig; the idea of navigating a romantic life surrounded by a thousand watching, judging eyes in a world where dating barely existed and marriage was one in the same with pregnancy. She wasn’t even sure if they’d ever gotten around to the fourth-date practicalities like childhood pets, favorite bands, meeting her parents, or if he’d ever thought about starting a family.
Maybe his kindness was enough. Once she stripped away every anxiety and miscommunication, she couldn’t imagine waking up without being held in his arms. Maybe the rest never mattered to begin with.
Jonah descended the last rungs of the conning tower ladder and dropped to the deck of the command compartment. He looked like some kind of crazy shut-in — he’d spent nearly four days in the same stained sweatshirt and pants, barefoot, his beard now a clumpy, matted mass, eyes sunken and bloodshot. He looked withered somehow, older. Marissa followed him down the ladder, scrunching her face and pinching her nose with visible discomfort and annoyance.
Alexis recoiled in horror when the smell hit her. “Oh god… you stink, Captain. Like, bad.”
“The smell is the least of my problems,” grunted Jonah. “I’ve been stuck inside that goddamn lockout chamber sleeping upright and crapping in a goddamn bucket for four goddamn days. Everything hurts, and I ran out of reading material two days ago.”
“Dalmar has a few magazines stashed away,” grinned Alexis. “But rumor has it they cater to somewhat specific tastes.”
“He will not lend,” said Vitaly. “I have asked many time.”
“I thought everything on ship is for everybody?” said Sun-Hi, confused. “But magazine only for Dalmar?”
“These magazines are,” added Alexis quickly. Sun-Hi started to ask another question, but Alexis quickly headed off any further awkward conversation. “How did decompression go?”
“We pushed the safety margins a bit,” said Marissa. “It was a rough ride up there. I need everybody to keep an eye on Jonah — symptoms like joint pain, rashes, anything that could indicate the bends. We can always put him back in the chamber for another round or two if necessary.”
“I’m never going back in that chamber.” Jonah leaned over Sun-Hi’s console. “I’d rather get buried in concrete under Giants Stadium.”
Sun-Hi cocked her head, amazed. “There is stadium for giants?”
“Uhhh… ” Jonah didn’t know how to respond. “Can you order the crew to the command compartment for me? We’ve got a lot to discuss.”
Sun-Hi nodded curtly, as though imitating a movie portrayal of a particularly diligent officer. She put the order through the intercom system, and it wasn’t long before Hassan and Dalmar made their way up the corridor to join the rest.
“What’s the latest?” Jonah playfully smacked the doctor on the shoulder as he passed. Alexis could tell Hassan found the gesture deeply uncomfortable, a fact that Jonah probably knew as well.
“We took a few pictures before sunset,” said Hassan. He pointed to Vitaly, who began to pull open the saved image files. “We tried again after dark, but night vision was all but useless. The island is too overgrown with jungle to make anything out.”
Vitaly slowly scrolled through the photos from when the Scorpion had circled the perimeter of the island at periscope depth. Few revealed anything more than crashing breakers, black sand beaches, and sea cliffs. The only evidence of human habitation was in the final photo — a dim image of a hundred-year-old lava flow emerging from a cauldron-topped volcanic peak through a scattershot of crumbling buildings before disappearing into the sea.
“Any landing sites for an armed scouting party?” asked Jonah.
“Is not good situation.” Vitaly flipped open a digital nautical chart. “Entire island is ringed by shoal and reef. There is only way in. Eastern approach to shallow harbor.”
“There used to be a colonial plantation and township here,” said Hassan. “It was apparently abandoned in the late 1800s after the most recent major eruption. The volcano remains active to this day.”
“That’s not ominous or anything,” said Marissa. “Secret underground volcano base maybe?”
“Wholly impractical,” sniffed Hassan.
“We can’t even consider running the breakers at any other compass point,” said Alexis. “We’d just run aground and get beat to pieces by the waves, even at high tide.”