Far From The Sea We Know (27 page)

“Well, the Captain didn’t mention that the
last time I saw him.”

“Chiffrey dropped by our meeting and
presented the idea. He’s going to ask the Captain about it.”

“Then until the Captain changes the plan,”
she said. “We’re headed back to Port Angeles and the Point.”

“Lorraine dropped by the meeting, too. Just
for a few minutes. She said we wouldn’t be going straight back.
Said that even before Chiffrey showed up.”

“I heard the Captain. We definitely are
heading back.”

“Lorraine seems to see things. You
know.”

“No, I don’t know. You think she is
prescient? Can see the future or something? What the hell’s
happened to you?”

“More like stuff stopped happening to me.
What I thought I knew. Now it’s what just is. It doesn’t have to be
either-or, and arguing against everything doesn’t always make you
so smart.” He yawned again. “I don’t want to debate it.”

“Well, you are debating it.”

“Not any more. I’m tired, and I’m
going.”

He gave her a vague smile as he left the
bridge, and his heavy footsteps clanged away down the steps and
companionways until she could hear them no more. It was strange
that Emory was so matter of fact about his belief that Lorraine
could foresee the future. He seemed oddly confident and relaxed.
Thinking about it made her tired.

She checked the heading. Dead on. All seemed
well. The engines’ deep thrumming reverberating in her gut felt
reassuring. There were lights off the port side, but not many. A
tanker was slowly passing them to starboard, far out to sea. She
enjoyed taking her turn on watch, but especially the late one. It
reminded her of cross-country trips she had taken, driving nonstop
coast to coast with only brief breaks for sleep. But this was
easier, with the few course corrections needed spaced minutes
apart.

There was very little to see tonight. The
disabled Navy ships were gone, and apart from the frigate trailing
well behind, the radar showed no other vessels in the area.
Usually, there was more traffic. Was that significant? She pondered
the possible implications for a minute but put them aside as Jack
Ripler came unwelcome into her thoughts. The last she checked, he
was still in the infirmary, consumed by his own fire. Although the
encounter with the whales seemed to have brought it on, he must
have always been a match looking for a strike. Just too bad he had
to find it here.

Yesterday, in the early evening, Penny had
come across Becka and Mary talking to Ripler’s sister on the
sat-phone. Malcolm had patched it into a speaker so they could all
hear. It soon became clear that Joan Ripler was not completely
surprised by her brother’s breakdown. She told them that something
similar had happened to their father years ago. He had become
paranoid and delusional and thought the people at the investment
company in Seattle where he worked were plotting his downfall.
Apparently, the last part had become a self-fulfilling prophecy.
After a series of outbursts laced with bitter accusations against
even the head of the company, he was forced out of his job as CFO.
His accumulated wealth, however, was enough to enable a retreat
north to the relatively sunny shores of Sequim in the rain shadow
of the Olympics. After a time, and with the help of his daughter,
he began to raise strawberries and fresh herbs, most of it going to
gourmet restaurants. No doubt his income from stocks and bonds made
leading the simple life simpler.

It turned out that there was an excellent
private clinic in Sequim that could take Jack, the same one his
father spent time in years before. It would not be cheap, but
Jack’s father had the money to give his son the care he would
need.

Joan Ripler was receptive to the idea of
Mary coming along. From listening to them talk, Penny realized they
must have met a few times. By the end of the conversation, they had
concluded that it would be extremely helpful to have Mary around. A
familiar face, and one Jack had trusted, could make a big
difference.

Penny made a small course adjustment.

Since the incident, Mary gave her the
creeps. She was obviously in love with Jack, though Penny had no
idea why. She ministered slavishly to him, and the word was that
she kept all night vigils, hovering over his bed in her own private
rapture. Coming across her yesterday in one of the companionways,
Mary gave Penny the impression of being well along in the process
of turning into Jack’s own private Mother Teresa.

The truth was, she didn’t really care much
about Jack now. Just knowing he and Mary would soon be gone was
nothing but good news, and it couldn’t happen too quickly. Penny
had not voiced it, but if they decided to lock Jack away forever,
she wouldn’t lose any sleep.

Was that something off the starboard bow?
The rising and sinking form of a whale, or perhaps it was just a
wave that caught the dim light of the moon. She kept looking, and
checking the radar and sonar, but nothing showed. A wave, most
likely, but she instinctively listened hard for a moment, listened
for anything: nothing but the sound of the ship. One of Andrew’s
regular crew would be in the engine room and would call in if
anything was amiss, but the deep thrum of the engines continued as
always, sounding like a cave full of purring cats.

The time went by slowly, as she wished. A
feeling of peacefulness enveloped her on the bridge, and she
nuzzled into it with gratitude. The sunrise was sharp and fast when
it finally came ages later, and quickly burned from dull red into a
near pure white. The shell necklace that had belonged to Andrew’s
wife swayed gently above the center port window and gleamed as if
it had a light of its own.

Penny was checking the heading automatically
by this point, and the engine as well. There were no trouble
lights, and all seemed good. People were coming out on deck,
getting back to work, cleaning up, and putting away gear, but all
in a relaxed way. There was not too much talking, but a few long
telling looks were exchanged. It was certainly better than
yesterday. It was as if a great storm had finally blown past, and
in its wake people were luxuriating in the afterglow of the
unprecedented effort they had made to survive.

Dirk came to relieve her. She just said
“fine” when he asked how she was doing. He took the wheel without
another word, and she was thankful he left it at that. The whole
thing with him and Lorraine getting together: she didn’t really
want to deal with it, at least right now.

She felt tired and sleepy and headed back to
her cabin. Matthew was gone, but she didn’t mind. In the moment, it
was near ecstasy to just lie down in peace for a while. A few of
her concerns threatened to find their way back, but fell away like
unanswered echoes as she descended into a deep and dreamless
sleep.

When Penny awoke hours later, she headed to
the small media lab where they had watched Chiffrey’s video and got
there just in time to meet Andrew as he was leaving. He told her
that Chiffrey’s people had managed to get the side-scan files
ready, and the Navy had brought them over by launch.

“Malcolm reminded me how much easier this
would be if we had our own downlink.”

“Still has enough of his old self for that,
at least,” she said.

“And I suppose he’s right,” Andrew said with
a soft laugh, “but maybe it’s a blessing since with that, everyone
would get a leash and muzzle on us.”

Andrew went on to say that Matthew had
joined him for a while in the lab. He had given him a rundown of
their meetings with Chiffrey, and they had watched the video
together. After Matthew had left, he had gone over the scans of the
ocean bottom from the
Honey Pot
location for hours,
scrutinizing them one by one as they came off the printer. Assuming
the scanning equipment had been in order, there was nothing of any
interest.

“So, you’ve given up?” she asked.

“I hope so,” Chiffrey said, coming around
the corner and sticking his head through the hatchway. “I won’t rub
it in, and I appreciate your effort. Any word on the whales from
your spotters up north?”

“Nothing relevant.” Andrew said. “As much
chance running into our whales along the way back as anywhere.”

“How much of a chance is that?”

“Given we have no idea what really
happened,” Penny said, “next to none.”

The sun in its slow sail was well on its way
to the western horizon when the
Valentina
crew gathered
again in C-lab. Almost everyone who was not on duty was there,
fitting around the equipment as best they could. A few latecomers
had to stand in the passageway and look in. Penny was in the back
on her own. Matthew, she observed, didn’t seem to do meetings these
days. Mary was absent, off ministering at the feet of Ripler, no
doubt. Andrew stood up front with Chiffrey.

The Captain explained their situation and
why they were going home to let some people off. It sounded like
Chiffrey’s argument had not carried, and Lorraine’s prediction was
wrong. That should give a few people second thoughts, Penny noted.
The fact that their heading had been south since yesterday could
not have been lost, but no one made even the semblance of an
objection. Lately the crew accepted whatever came their way,
carefree as the lilies of the field even while they toiled. They’d
gone back to work almost as if nothing had happened, or at least to
the necessary work of maintaining the ship. Even Becka looked calm.
Going home early without getting anywhere near the Bering Sea
should have been a major upset to her. The research she was to have
taken part in on this trip was specific to her thesis, but here she
was, sitting on a lab bench, as serene as if attending a recital of
chamber music.

“Lieutenant Chiffrey has asked to stay
onboard,” Andrew said. “I’ve agreed. Arrangements are being made to
get Jack and Mary off soon. Most of the rest you already know.
After we resupply at port, those of you who want to continue with
us will be welcome. We’ve all been through a lot. For some, clearly
enough. Our mission’s changed. We can’t be sure where it will take
us or what we will find. There may be danger. Do not discount
that.” He glanced at Chiffrey. “Should just kick you all off, but
after all that’s happened, you’ve earned a berth on this ship.
Whatever you’ve decided, you have until we reach port to change
your mind. If you are still on board when we sail again, you are in
this to the end.”

Andrew finished up. “Any questions?
Good.”

After the meeting, Penny was walking down
the companionway to her cabin when she almost ran into Dirk as he
came around a bulkhead. Her mood shifted instantly, her guard came
up. He smiled. She didn’t.

“To bed?” he said. “It’s still light.”

“But late enough.”

“Yes. ‘Ye know not the hour.’ Just about to
start my watch. Not tired at all.” He glanced out a porthole. “It
was
so
beautiful out there today.”

“And it wasn’t before?” She didn’t mean to
have it come out so snide.

He ignored her comment, seemingly lost in
the view of the twilight horizon.

“The last light of a Northern summer,” he
said. When he finally looked at her, his eyes had a shine. “Most of
my life I felt cut off in some way I could never understand. Didn’t
matter if I was out in a catboat by myself or in a roomful of
people. Always alone. When I was small, before I could talk, the
wet snow sliding down the window glass made patterns I could almost
read. The answers were all there. Everything was, but the truth
fell out of me faster than it went in, and as I grew, I lost it
all. Now it’s all come back to me, and more. Whatever you think,
Penny, however you puzzle over it, you won’t get it the way you’re
trying.”

“Are you and Lorraine really getting
married?”

“Yes. In essence, we already are, but we’ll
formalize it when we get the chance.”

“How sweet. Congratulations, but what
exactly does ‘we already are’ mean?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“How can you be so sure, when you only just
met? You’ve all bonded in some way, some of you more than others
and maybe that is a powerful experience, but you remember Ripler?
He was so sure, wasn’t he, and now he’s a puddle of drool.”

“What has come to me is not what happened to
Jack.”

“Being sure just isn’t enough.”

“You’re pissed because other people got
something and you didn’t.”

“Pissed, yes, maybe I am, but not because I
didn’t get a hit when the Kool-Aid went round. And don’t tell me
‘this is different,’ because they all say ‘this is different’ and
not long after always comes the shit storm.”

“What you just said is coming from your own
fear.”

“Please do not inflict your Pop-Tart
psychology on me.”

Dirk paused for a moment and looked at her
as if he had never seen her before, or maybe was really seeing her
for the first time. “It’s like I’m in a skiff on a calm day. Water
lapping gently on the planking. Do I have to think about it? No.
Can I prove to all the metaphysicians in the world that it’s really
happening? Not a chance. Do I need to? Why bother? An essential
certainty is there, and it’s old, like a lizard laying in the sun,
or a fish in the current. No need to argue it.”

“And facts don’t matter anymore?”

“Almost everything we do in the pursuit of
so-called knowledge is because we don’t get what’s right in front
of us. Being objective means being disconnected. And we all know
this, but can’t deal, so we invent all kinds of elaborate games to
occupy and convince ourselves we’re learning something when really
we’re out in the cold with our noses pressed up against a dirty
window. It’s not about being right, having the answer. I don’t have
the answer. Don’t need one, because the questions I was told to ask
are all out of joint.”