The Sylvester Part 4

Anything for that slim chance at not freezing on a ghost ship stranded in space.

Note from the author:

If you haven’t yet, head to the following pages to read the previous instalments of the Sylvester series:

‘Seriously?’ Henry’s voice sounded shrill, perhaps because of the worry, or perhaps because of the lack of power. The radio was struggling, and contact could cut off at any moment. ‘You’re on a floating, freezing grave, Officer.’ 

I slumped on my chair. 

‘Henry, you’re the best technician in our fleet. Think. There must be something we can do.’ I looked at the faces of the two men next to me. Gaunt, jaws clenched, eyes wide, hanging on to every word. ‘There has to be.’ 

‘A long shot.’ 

I snorted, frustrated. ‘Yes, I imagine it would be hard, but…’ 

‘No, literally. I think your only hope is a long shot.’ 

‘What do you mean?’ 

‘When generators are cold, the only way to activate them is to fire them up with something. Anything. A big quantity of anything.’ 

‘Anything?’ 

‘So long as it’s flammable, yes. It will make a lot of smoke and complain like an old biddie with a bad back, but it’s the only way.’ 

‘I need to speak to the officers. Ask them to change course.’ 

‘Officer Grenada. Captain Amon speaking. The situation is dire. We are calculating a new course. However, we need to make fuel stops. We won’t risk running into the same issue as the Sylvester.’ A pause. ‘Find a way to come closer. Otherwise, we might be too late.’ 

‘I’ll do my best, captain.’ 

‘Keep the radio plugged in on a basic minimal signal. It will help us trace your position. If you need to unplug, send a communication. Try to update at least once a day.’ 

‘Roger that, captain.’ 

‘I’ll put technician Jones back on the line. Lightspeed, officer.’ 

‘Stars willing, Captain,’ I replied. Many officers, like captain Amon, were fervent believers in the Universe Gospel. I had never been too fussed myself, but at this stage, we needed all the help we could get. Human and celestial. 

Henry was covering the human side: he explained his plan in more detail to me, Bo, and Magnus. According to him, it was our only chance to reactivate the generators for long enough to reach a docking port where we could meet the Balthasar. Even for desperate people like us, it seemed hopeless. Magnus, the mechanic, grabbed the microphone to ask Henry if he had gone mad. In the end, though, we all knew. We had no better options. 

I hung up. Magnus was shaking his head. 

‘Your friend is mad. How are pillows and chairs going to work when half a tank of pure fuel didn’t?’ 

Bo was also concerned. 

‘What if the generator explodes? Then, we’re toast.’ 

‘We’re dead anyway, guys,’ I retorted. ‘I’d rather die trying to get us out of this mess.’ 

I was pacing around the laundry room, looking at the towers and walls of fabric. Flammable, but damp. Also, not enough. We needed more, drier materials. We needed help. As the only officer on board, my duty was clear. 

‘Is the dining room accessible, Bo?’ 

‘It’s cold and hasn’t been cleaned in a week at least, but yes.’ 

‘I’ll call a ship assembly then. Take me to the loudspeakers.’ 

‘A ship assembly?’

We grouped in the dining room. We made piles of tables and chairs, and pushed them against the wall, creating as much free space as we could. We dragged the reservation stand to the front of this space. I stood on its platform, looking at the people who made their way into the room. The staff, wary and raggedy, eyes looking down. The guests, puzzled and scruffy, uncomprehending. Everyone staring at me, trying to remember who I was and where they had seen me, unable to place me on that ship. 

I don’t remember what I said. If I made a rousing speech detailing the urgency of the situation and the need for collaboration from everyone. Most likely I just babbled on, explaining my presence there, the issue with the engines, and what we had to do to make it out alive. Voices rose from both the staff and the guests: the ones disbelieving that I could come up with any plan worthy of consideration, the others demanding to know what was going on and where their own officers were. 

Magnus and Bo did their best to communicate with the staff. A few representatives of the guests were shown the situation in the control room. They then spoke to the captain of the Balthasar through the radio. That seemed to convince most of them. The ones who were still not convinced were made unable to create issues. 

We chose the laundry rooms as a deposit for the burning material, due to their proximity to the generator room. Bo supervised a squad of guests and members of staff chopping, shredding, and bundling materials up in bales. Wood, fabrics, plastic, paper. Anything that could be burnt was piled up. 

I put Magnus in charge of the generator room. He established tight shifts with all remaining mechanics and anyone with the smallest bit of technical skills. The room was filled with as many bales of material as could fit; more people were put on standby to replace the bales during the burning. 

After two days of gruelling work, Magnus, Bo, and I, plus the guest representatives, met again. Captain Amon was also on the line through the radio. 

‘I believe this is as ready as we can get,’ I said, ‘we can’t afford to wait any longer.’

‘We’ve been working around the clock,’ added Doctor Haynes, one of the guests, ‘there isn’t much left to cut into bales. The laundry room is nearly full.’ 

‘I also think we need to get the ball rollin’,’ agreed Magnus, ‘start the bitch – excuse my Earthspeak – and see whether we get to live or die.’

I looked at Bo, who was leaning forward, his hands steepled, elbows propped on his knees. He looked back at me and just nodded. 

‘Captain, I think we need to activate the generator.’ I spoke into the microphone. Crackling and some static, then the captain’s voice arrived. 

‘Yes, it is time. We are on our way. Our first stop will be in the system of Arethusa 56. Then, we’ll proceed at maximum speed towards the galaxy of Orestes and the Witch. Stars willing, the whole journey should take us a week. Can you make it?’

‘We’ll have to, sir.’

‘Very well. As your companion eloquently said, start the bitch. And may the Great Andromeda, Cassiopeia and Delphinus guide you.’

‘And you, captain.’

We headed to the engine room, verifying that everyone was ready to perform their task. Magnus’ squad was standing by as we entered and looked at the generator.

The dark tower, full to the brim with bales of fabric, wood, and more, seemed to mock our efforts. Do you really think you can start me with your pathetic sheets and chairs? the generator laughed at us in glimmers of ice. You will never warm me up. Ice will cover your bones.

‘All right, time to waltz, you cold-hearted hag’ Magnus grumbled. He put on thick protective gloves, placed his hand on the switch and looked at me. I nodded, my heart throbbing in my throat, preventing me from speaking. Magnus pulled down the switch with a grunt. 

The generator screamed. We all covered our ears and ducked, looking at the tower. It was struggling, resisting, and for what seemed like an eternity, we thought it would turn right back off. I started considering the implications of jumping off the main bridge into space. I would die nearly instantly, and it would be painless. Better than freezing slowly in a giant ship full of desperate people. 

As these thoughts swirled in my mind, the generator’s screech gradually died down. A drumming sound was growing, and the ice on the tower sublimated into thin plumes of white smoke. The first to speak was Ollie, one of the mechanics. 

‘It’s on! It’s on!’

Magnus straightened up and darted to the feeding conduct. He and his team had been working for the past two days to create an opening big enough to fuel the generator with our rough scraps. He opened the hatch and shouted at his men: 

‘Form a chain! Ollie, Guli, Tom, come here and start feeding this hungry bastard! Let’s get those engines running!’

Incredible as it was, Henry’s plan was working. One by one, the engines turned on. The Sylvester moved painfully slowly, the bare minimum speed, but it moved. It was time to head to the deck and set the course. I asked Bo to accompany me. 

The bodies of the officers had already been relocated to their quarters. All heating systems on that deck were off to save fuel; they wouldn’t decompose any more than they had. The air in the deck was still thick with decay and made Bo and me shiver with disgust and dread. I set the course for Orestes as quickly as I could and took a portable command pad with me to monitor our progress. Leading from that place was out of the question. 

As I locked the door and we headed back to the lower levels, Bo asked: 

‘Do you think we’ll be questioned?’

‘What do you mean?’

He wrung his hands and shot me a sideways glance.

‘Well, they almost lost a ship. Many people died. There will be an enquiry, right?’

I didn’t answer immediately. The questions had been on my mind as well. When speaking to the captain and Henry, I had given scarce details on the responsibilities and behaviour of the officers. I knew our company’s history, and before taking the risk of testimony, I wanted my feet on solid ground. Literally and figuratively. Bo was still looking at me. I sighed. 

‘I don’t know. I can’t pretend to be sure of what will happen.’ I looked him in the eyes, trying to sound as earnest as I felt. ‘Let’s survive this. You all have been doing an outstanding job in a terrible situation. We have many witnesses, the crew, the mechanics, the attendants. Surely, our words will count for something.’

Bo smiled wistfully and shook his head. 

‘Nice sentiment, Officer Grenada. Might not be enough, though. People might be scared to talk. Not want to lose their jobs.’

I sighed again. 

‘I know, Bo. All I can say is I will do my best to prevent any harm or reproach towards the crew. The word of a junior officer might not count for much. I won’t let you down, though.’

Bo offered me his hand. 

‘I’ll hold you to that.’

I shook his hand. 

We proceeded at that slow, excruciating pace, for more than six days. Captain Amon confirmed the arrival of the Balthasar at the docking port in Orestes. They were waiting for us. We were still three days away, running out of scraps to feed the generator. No flammable furniture left, no more sheets, towels, fabrics. All heating systems had been turned off, their fuel redirected to the generator and the engines, so the cold of space was starting to set in.  

I called another ship assembly. We needed more materials. 

‘Let’s burn the corpses!’ shouted a diminutive elderly woman. 

‘Let’s burn the food!’ exclaimed a moustached man from first class, ‘It’s all expired anyway!’

After a long debate, a tall woman with red hair stood up, and everyone fell silent. She was the Duchess of the Columba Constellation, a noble, former courtesan, and the wealthiest socialite on board. She wore a huge black coat that probably cost as much as a first-class suite. With a sigh, the Duchess took it off and threw it on the floor.

‘Burn it,’ she said, standing tall in a long velvet dress. ‘I have dozens at home. Take my whole wardrobe. I have insurance.’ She turned towards the audience. ‘We need food to survive. We don’t need all our clothes. Our luggage.’ She paused and gave me a piercing look. ‘We’ll burn it all. Take us home, Officer Grenada.’

After the assembly, we relocated all passengers and crew to the lower levels, closer to the engines and easier to keep warm. Many complained, but the Duchess knew how to be persuasive. Under Bo’s request, I had every single passenger sign a document to attest that they relinquished any belongings of their own accord. Then, he and the other attendants emptied the cabins of all flammable items. Piles of branded clothes, fancy shoes, the last of the mattresses. 

Anything for that one last push towards salvation. 

A week later, news homepages in the galaxy had interesting headlines:

Bare-ly rescued: stranded cruise ship Sylvester saved by twin Balthasar

By the (bare) skin of their teeth: Silvester passengers burn clothes as fuel

Ship full of naked passengers makes it to port thanks to heroic junior officer

As usual, the media tends to exaggerate things. Most of us still had our underwear on when we were rescued. 

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Writing musings and news

Dear readers,

This episode comes to you slightly late, and I apologise about that. A lot of travelling and general life getting in the way right now, but I’ll do my best to get back on track.

This episode ends what has so far been the longest series in Oddball Tales. It was never meant to last this long, but then, we don’t really decide that, do we? It was Grenada, Bo, Henry, Magnus, and everyone else who had so much to say.

Meanwhile, the Creativity Stir anthology is progressing. I received very encouraging feedback and helpful advice on how to improve my two stories, and I can’t wait to see how we move forward. There is so much variety and talent at play in this group!

My personal contributions revolve around two very different characters: Linda and Reinan. Linda is a girl coming from a long line of witches looking for answers on her mother’s disappearance; Reinan is a man who spends one night in a club for supernatural creatures looking for a demon to help him with a bad idea.

As usual, magic and supernatural creatures are on the table!

If you made it to here, thank you for spending time with me and my characters once again. By the middle of the month, we might be looking to relax a bit!

See you soon!

Magnolia Fay