Captain Skinner quickly went for the radio. “Polar Princess, this is the Fugro Symphony. We hear you, and are not far from your location. Do not panic, because what happened to you has happened to everyone. We went through this last year ourselves. Now, who be you, lassie?” he said. He quickly gestured for his Chief Officer to plot the location of the stricken ship. He knew they were nearby, but not exactly how near.
“I’m Third Officer Haugen. The Captain is doing a walkdown now. Just holding on to the microphone is a chore, seeing as I have no hands, but hooves. Did you say last year, Fugro?” the voice said, displaying not so much shock as incredulity.
“Aye, lassie. This is Captain Skinner speaking. Now, tell me what conditions were like when ye set sail, and the exact time and date things went south, okay? We’re homing in on your stated position, and should be there within a couple of hours,” Skinner said.
“Thank you, Captain. We set sail from the Port of Tampa at zero-four-hundred the twenty-third of May, two thousand fifteen with a cargo of goods destined for New York City, Manhattan Pier five-seven, no later than Wednesday morning, the twenty-seventh of May, at eleven hundred hours,” the voice was showing more life than wooden-ness now. “We had cleared Tampa Bay and had turned south when a brilliant flash lit up the early morning, and it became noontime, with everyone in Control turned into various furry or feathered creatures. May I ask just what is going on?”
Skinner nodded at the Third Officer’s report. She sounded rational and in control, which is not common to the newly Returned. “Lassie, have you put the ship at a full stop yet? Let us come to you to help,” he told the woman on the other end of the radio.
“Yes, the Captain ordered all stop right after the flash. Do you need our coordinates again, Fugro Symphony?” Third Officer Haugen asked.
“No, lassie, we have them. We should be in your vicinity within an hour and a half. You will see our scouts first, they will fly on ahead and render what aid they can before we arrive. If ye can hold on another two hours, help will arrive. Do ye copy that, Polar Princess?” Skinner asked.
“Polar Princess copies advice, Fugro Symphony. I will remain in Control until the Captain returns from his ship inspection. My helmsman now has green feathers and wings showing from under his shirt, or else I would be more skeptical. Right now, we have a ship’s crew to gather together. Polar Princess standing by,” Third Officer Haugen said before the radio went quiet.
“Fugro Symphony copies traffic,” Skinner said before putting the radio mic down and picking up the interior communications mic. “Attention all crew and passengers, this is the Captain. All off-duty personnel report to the mess decks. A ship has Returned nearby, and we’re going to go help them. All hands an’ hooves report to the mess decks for a full report and a decision on what to do.”
Skinner then looked at his Second, Mia Haraldsen. “Keep an ear on the radio and such. Full power ahead and let me know if their Captain calls or we get in sight of them, if I’m not already back,” he told the blue reindeer, who nodded and moved up to the radio.
The Captain made his way to the mess decks, which were filling up with both crew and passengers, young and old. Once everyone was there, he informed everyone on what had happened, and what steps he was taking to help out. “What I would like to do is send some fliers over, those with the technical skills to take over operating the ship until such time as we can get there physically. Now, who would like to step forward to volunteer for the first wave?”
With his eyes, he picked out three of his crew, his Chief Officer, Berry Quinn, a black dragon; his Third Engineer, Konrad Ericson, a griffin; and his medic, Lilian Shepard, an asian dragon. They came forward along with the ones he was hoping for. From the Deliverance crew, Harry Bell and Frack Larsen, the pegasi; Bernie Verstappen, the thestral, and Frieda Halvorsen, the griffin. From the Pensacola team, John Doyle, the pegasus and Renee Noir, the hippogriff. “Just who I was hoping for,” he said as the six stepped forward. Most of the others left, but a few remained, like the rest of the Deliverance crew.
“All right now, lads and lasses, here’s my idea. We’re making our way to the stricken vessel at best speed, but it will take over an hour to get close. I want you lot to fly ahead and render what aid you can until we get there, Quinn, ye’re in charge. Take a GPS with ye. Anyone want tae bail out now? Here’s ye chance,” he said seriously to the assembled group.
“How far away are we from there, Captain?” Frieda asked.
“About twenty miles. Our best speed is only sixteen knots, and we had to turn because they were behind us. Can ye handle the distance?” Skinner asked again.
“Won’t be a problem,” Frack said, one wing around Bernie. “If your First Officer will guide us, I don’t see any problems getting there. Weather clear, track fast.”
“I may not be much of a sailor,” said John Doyle. “But, I’m sure I can help some of the newly converted to lose any fright they may have.”
“That’s why I’m glad ye volunteered, Deacon. Everywing, meet on the after deck in fifteen minutes. Grab what ye want to bring and head there. Quinn, with me to Control,” Skinner said to everyone. “Dismissed.”
Fifteen minutes later, everyone gathered on the afterdeck, some with saddlebags carrying first aid gear. “No word yet, but the Captain there has been doing a walkdown. I’m sure your presence will be helpful. Quinn, lead everywing there and call me once ye get there. We’ll be no more than an hour behind ye.” Skinner told the assembled party.
“We’re on it, Captain,” Quinn, a short black dragon with yellow eyes, told Skinner before being the first one in the air. “Let’s go!” The team followed him off the deck, forming up and heading north, Quinn leading, then the Third Engineer and medic, behind them Frieda, John and Harry, Frack and Bernie next, and Renee bringing up the rear. Both Fran and Frick shot some video of the team leaving.
Not ten minutes later, a male voice came over the radio on the distress frequency. “Fugro Symphony, this is Captain Vannevar Haugen of the Polar Princess. Do you copy?”
Skinner was quick to grab the microphone. “This is Captain Skinner of the Fugro Symphony. We read you loud and clear. Help is on the way. What be your status there?” he asked.
“A lot better than I had expected to find it, Captain Skinner. Everyone aboard is accounted for, and not many severe injuries. All of us have been changed, though. Dogs, cats, a bird, a zebra, unicorns, pegasi, horses, and some things I don’t quite have the words for yet, Captain. I want to say it’s somewhat stable here, but that’s on a knife’s edge. My third said you’re sending help. Is that correct?” Captain Haugen asked.
“They should be there within twenty minutes. We will be about an hour behind. We are going to have a lot to talk about, Captain. You are going tae need to adjust fast, an’ ye doon’t hae much time tae do it in,” Skinner replied. “Is the ship stable?”
“For now, I have to say yes. My Third is very competent indeed, just needs more experience. She graduated Kings Point less than two years ago,” Captain Haugen told Skinner, referring to the United States Merchant Marine Academy, located east of New York City.
“I hae noticed the similarity of names, Captain. She be a relative of yours?” Skinner asked.
“My eldest daughter. She’s a black unicorn, while I’m more of a black spotted reindeer. The duty helmsman is a parrot, my Chief Officer is a pegasus and my Second is a very small shaggy-maned horse. I know he’s all right, because he’s been swearing in Icelandic since I found him. Let me get back to looking after my ship, Captain Skinner. Hope to see you soon. Polar Princess ten-ten,” Captain Haugen said before going quiet.
“Fugro Symphony standing by,” Skinner said before putting the microphone down.
“At least they’re not ramming another ship,” Mia commented.
“Aye, ye got that right.”
The flock from the Fugro circled the Polar Princess, surveying it from stem to stern. “Container ship,” Quinn said, looking down.
“Where would be a good place for us all to land?” Frieda asked.
Quinn pointed with a claw. “There, ahead of the superstructure. Room for all of us,” he answered before calling out, “Follow me!” before circling to land on the ship. One by one, the others followed.
A hatch opened, revealing a bright red pegasus with white wings, the red shading towards orange down the legs. “You’re from the Fugro, right?” the pegasus asked.
“That’s right. I’m Chief Officer Quinn, and with me are” he said before naming his crew.
“I’m Chief Officer Cranston. Glad you brought some medical personnel. We have several injuries, the most critical being one of our oilers. He changed into a zebra while going down a flight of steps, and fell a good two levels before stopping. Doctor Moscone’s with him now, but he’s afraid to move him,” the red pegasus said to the group.
“With good reason, I’m sure,” Lilian said. “Where be the rest of your injured?”
“In sickbay, waiting. I’ll guide you there, then the rest of you to Control, to meet the Captain. Your ship should be here soon, right?” Chief Cranston asked.
“Within an hour at the most. We’re just the advance party, to get here and see just what you need to get stable, then your captains can have a discussion on what to do and where to go. Do lead the way, Chief,” Quinn suggested.
“Follow me,” Cranston said as he led the way into the superstructure and up. “I can really get these wings to work?”
“Sure can, mister!” Frack said from where he was walking. “There’s just three things you have to keep in mind. You can, it’s possible, and it works. You don’t need to know how it works, you just need to know that when you flip the switch, it’s on, and you can. I had to teach a bunch of kids how to fly, and if they could, you can too.”
“He’s not kidding, Chief Cranston. He’s taught me to fly, and a lot of others. Trust the magic, it’s there, so use it!” Frieda said.
Cranston stopped and held up a wing. “Please, everyone, call me ‘Crank’. Been called that since I was ten. You all have the rank to get away with it. Just what do you mean by ‘magic’?” he asked.
Chief Quinn blinked a little, thinking. “Wait on that question until we are all together. Explanations will be easier then,” he said slowly.
Crank shrugged with his wings and shoulders. “I can buy that. Medical’s around the corner here,” he told the group as he led them inside, to reveal a rather young griffin who had a wing out of joint, and an oxblood minotaur supporting a sooty black Abyssinian. “Schmidt, Awad, Sharon, these are some friends who have come to help us out. I’ll leave the medics here and get the rest to Control.” he said to the ones waiting. Lilian and Frieda moved aside while Crank led the others out.
Lilian quickly took charge of the room. She went to the griffin first. “Taken by surprise and caught your wing on something?” she said as she examined the griffon.
“Ja…” the griffin muttered, clearly uncomfortable.
“Spreche deutsch?” Frieda asked. When the griffin nodded, she moved up next to the griffin, swiftly grabbed the dislocated wing and popped it back into place. The young griffin let out a yelp and a shiver. “The pain will fade quickly. Let me get you some cold packs and pain gel,” she said as she started rummaging through her saddlebags.
“You are an evil doctor…” the griffin muttered.
“No, I’m an evil librarian with an EMT certification I have maintained since the Seventies, young man…” Frieda said firmly as she applied some pain relieving gel on the formerly dislocated wing joint before applying cold packs and bandages.
Lillian went to the other two. “Now, just what do we have here?” she asked.
The Abyssinian spoke up first. “When the change happened, I dropped the oil sample I was about to examine, then I slipped on it. I either sprained my left ankle, or something worse. Achmed there brought me here,” he explained as the minotaur picked him up and set him on the exam table.
“Hey, we’ve been friends for how long now, Sam?” Achmed said as he laid Sam out.
“Five years? I lose track. I just know we can have fair, frank discussions without dropping into partisan arguments,” Sam said before letting out a yelp of pain as Lilian worked the foot.
“Those two have been fighting the Arab-Israeli war now for as long as I have been aboard,” Schmidt muttered as Frieda bound his wing. “It’s just how they do it I wish their governments would think of doing.”
“How’s that?” Frieda asked.
“They both think the eternal war between them is ridiculous, so they sit back and laugh at the foolishness of both Arab and Israeli leaders. If only the leadership would back off and let people live, then all will settle down,” Schmidt said quietly.
“At least someone has good sense…” Frieda muttered as she finished binding up Schmidt’s wing. “Shall we chat?”
In Control, Crank brought the party in to meet the Captain, Third Officer and the seaman at the helm, respectively a black reindeer with white spots, a black unicorn with silver-blonde mane and tail, and a short, squat-bodied green Ornithian respectively.
After introductions, the first thing Captain Haugen asked the group from the Fugro was, “I’m glad you brought the minister. I have a crew of thirty-one, with three injured, six gender bent, two reduced in age to children, and right now, I confess to saying that I have no idea on where to go or what to do to keep my crew safe.”
Chief Quinn was the first to reply. “Captain, the Fugro Symphony will be here within an hour. I will not be surprised at all if Captain Skinner is on a three-way video call with the other two captains of our group, the World Seafarer’s Union, right now. What’s bad is that one of the captains is in our base in Maasvlakte, where it is mid-evening, and the other is in the Eastern Mediterranean, where it’s damn near midnight. I am to figure out your ship’s status, to determine if it is safer to bring you to Rotterdam, or the colony in Havana. If we can guide Deacon Doyle and the rest to where your crew is, we can get started on sorting them out and bring everyone up to speed on the world today,” he said to the group.
Captain Haugen nodded in agreement. “That would be a good idea. I want my crew settled down and caught up on current events. Just where is everyone, anyhow? There were thirty-eight ships on radar earlier, now there’s just one!” he pointed out, his Norwegian accent which was faint before, becoming more prominent. “Third, please escort those who wish to go to the mess decks.”
“Yes, Captain,” the Third Officer replied. “Please follow me. We have all had a bit of a shock.”
“As have we all, Miss,” Renee Noir said in her slow English. “Chief Quinn, I want to help to figure out ship status. I served up to Chief Officer on a fishing boat out of Haiti for years. A ship this big, no, but experience lots.”
“Thank you for offering, Miss Noir. Please do so,” Quinn said as the others, except the Third Engineer, exited the Control room.
They had not gone far at all before an alarm bell started ringing, and an accented voice came over the loudspeakers. “Fire! Fire in the engine room! Generator spaces port side!”
“That’s Doctor Moscone. He went down to tend to an injured crewman,” the third officer said quietly.
“Forget the mess decks, lead us there!” Frack said in a commanding voice.
“What can you do down there? What can anyone here do? No hands,” Third Officer Haugen observed.
“We know of workarounds. Lead us!” Frack barked. “I’ll defend this ship to the last drop of her blood!” as he pointed a wing at Bernie.
“Thank you very much, Frack. I’m not going to forget you said that,” she observed in a very dry voice.
“Hey, I have a reputation to live up to! Lead the way!” Frack countered, taking charge.
“Don’t you mean down to, lover boy?” Bernie riposted saucily.
“Follow me. Down this ladderway,” Third Officer Haugen said, leading the way.
Harry and John met gazes and rolled their eyes. The lovebirds were at it again, or was it they hadn’t stopped yet?