A Fiction: Part VIII

IV

Sitting on the end of the bed, I rub my new room key between my fingers. I still can’t believe it – full-size bed, satellite entertainment system, on-screen internet, an above water port hole and a door. My own door! The shared lavatory down the hall has five toilet stalls and eight shower stands. No waiting. If the paid help has amenities such as these, I can only imagine the luxury on the guest deck. I stretch my sore body as I recall the previous two day’s events.

Today the ship sets out, but I’ve stayed on board since Wednesday – no reason to leave. Wednesday night, after an hour to unpack my things, Nelson collected me to give me the grand tour. And grand it was: the gourmet kitchen - fully staffed and stocked, the exercise room with only the best equipment. I was introduced to the rest of the Angel’s Head crew and a few members of the scientific team at Wednesday meal time. I met three of the five team members. Mum’s the word on their mission from what I can gather. All-in-all, everyone seemed pleasant enough.

We sat down to a full formal dinner, during which the captain said a few words: “Gentlemen, in 32 hours we will set out to parts unknown on a mission of the utmost secrecy. The challenges we face are many, the questions we will answer are few. But I am assured that the goals of our guests are pure and of the best interest of man.” With this, the man introduced to me as Hawthorne raised his glass.

“Let me now introduce the newest members of the crew to you all. First, we have Mr. Steadman.” A tall, thin man with wire-rimmed glasses stood at his seat and bowed his head. “Mr. Steadman is a talented meteorologist and assures us he will keep us free from storm.” Steadman smiled, looked around the room and took his seat.

“Next, I will introduce Mr. Cole.” I held up my glass but stayed seated. “Mr. Cole comes to us from the fishing vessel San Pedro. He comes highly recommended as an honest and dependable man.” Having never mentioned my previous vessel, I was surprised by the mention. I hadn’t even filled out any paperwork. They did mention a background check on the flyer, so I guess I should’ve expected them to check me out. Guess I checked out OK.

“Lastly,” the captain said with a sigh, “let me introduce Dr. Sawyer. Having lost our previous ship’s doctor, we performed an extensive search for just the right man for our unique needs. Dr. Sawyer comes recommended by our guest Mr. Hawthorne, and I am confident he will make a great member of our crew.” Dr. Sawyer was a short, stocky man with thick dark glasses and an unkempt scruff of beard. The captain clearly didn’t approve, but seemed to tolerate the man nonetheless. My curiosity passed when the good doctor took the captain’s hand in a hearty shake. Perhaps they are friendly after all…

The meal ended soon after and with a few friendly nods from those around me, I headed off to my room for my first nights sleep aboard Angel's Head. I always dream, and that night I dreamt of the sky. I was not of body, nor was there any sign of land nor sea. Just wide open sky.

Yesterday, I was woken early by a buzz box on the wall. Nelson had told me there was one in every crewman’s quarters. It would go off at the same time for the first few weeks to synchronize the schedules of all the members of the crew. Then, once settled, the buzzer was silenced for the balance of the trip (excepting of course if someone slips out of groove, Nelson had said).

I jumped out of bed, had a quick shower (I was in first rotation. If I missed my 5 minute slot, I could not shower until after night mealtime), and put on one of the ten crisp white uniforms hanging in standing storage. I stepped out of my room and followed the yellow line painted from my door to the deck where I joined the line of crewmen standing at attention.

Roderick appeared from the control room and stepped down the stairs to the deck. He walked the length of the line, looking us up and down. “Mr. Nelson?” he said as he stood in front of me.

“Yes sir,” Nelson said as he stepped forward out of line. He kept his eyes forward.

“Have we no more black belts?”

“Sir?”

“Mr. Cole here is wearing a brown belt. Have we no more to give him?”

Without turning his gaze, Nelson said, “I was just heading into town to get him a new one, sir. The ones we have in storage are not up to your standards, sir.”

“Thank you Mr. Nelson. Please be sure to do so. And hurry up about it. We have much to do before we set out tomorrow.” Nelson stepped back into line. “Mr. Cole, you will spend the morning with Hendricks today. He will give you instructions and monitor the quality of your work. We have the highest standards on Angel’s Head Mr. Cole. Are we clear?”

“Sparkling, sir.”

Roderick smirked to himself and turned back towards the stairs. “Excellent. A safe and productive day to you all.” The group stayed in formation until Roderick climbed the stairs and closed the control room door behind him. Nelson was down the stairs back towards his room before I had the chance to breathe, presumably to leave the ship and fins an appropriate belt. I was impressed with the leadership on the ship and was feeling lucky to be part of such a crack staff.

“So you’re with me,” a gruff voice said into my ear. I turned to see a blonde haired boy of no more than twenty-five reach out his hand to shake. I took it and was taken aback by his weak grip. Hasn’t worked a hard day in his life, I thought to myself. He led me down into the third deck to a large storage area with a small, square door opened to the outside sea air. Through the door poked the end of a conveyor belt turning slowly.

“The last of the supplies are on that truck.” He pointed out the door to a box truck backed up to the other end of the conveyor. Three men stood waiting to unload. Hendricks waved and they started throwing boxes on the conveyor.

“OK, Cole. Get ready. The red marked boxes go in that corner, the blue in the freezer back there and the green over there.” I was quickly corrected of my first impressions as Hendricks started loading in. Fucking shit, this is brutal, I thought to myself.

After an hour of stacking thirty to forty pound boxes around, I was building a pretty mean sweat, so I unbuttoned my jacket and started to pull it off. “NOOOO!!!” Hendricks yelled. “If Roderick catches you out of uniform, we’ll both be tossed overboard.” Not wanting to make a bad impression my first day, I buttoned back up my jacket and kept on.

We stopped for a quick meal in the storage area for a few minutes around mid-day, then continued on well into the evening. “We’ll finish when we’re done,” Hendricks answered when I asked how long our shift was. I’m no stranger to hard work, but I could barely climb the stairs when we were finished and headed towards the evening meal.

“Welcome to Angels’ Head,” Hendricks said after we ate and walked back towards our rooms. Waiting for me at the foot of my bed was a tightly wrapped black belt with shiny brass buckle.