The Soldier

Logan stood just outside the port of Dover. He was dressed in black jeans and a black turtleneck pullover. At his feet sat a blue athletic bag that contained some extra clothes and his personal gear.

Logan had been watching the final loading of the Morning Star through a pair of digital binoculars. He had spent about a half-hour watching the cranes at each end of the ship move rhythmically through the process – pick up a cargo container, turn, position the container and somewhat gently lower it onto the ship. Then the crane returned for the next container.

Judging by the number of containers that were readily visible, Logan surmised that the loading process was nearly complete and that he should probably hurry and get aboard.

He stopped and looked at the binoculars.

“Well, no need to explain why I want binoculars on this trip,” he said before he turned and hurled them off into a nearby stand of bushes. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and they will still be there when we return.”

Logan bent to pick up the bag, placed the strap over one shoulder and walked over to the main gate.

“Papers.”

Logan reached into his bag and pulled out the paperwork. The guard took the papers and shuffled through them, giving them only a cursory examination.

“It all seems to be in order, Mr...” He looked at Logan’s machinist license. “Mr. Logan.”

He handed the papers back to Logan.

“You don’t look familiar. First time out of Dover?”

Logan grunted an acknowledgement as he put the papers back into his bag.

“Had a bit of a disagreement with the captain of me last ship,” Logan said, adopting a more common accent that he hoped was passable. “This was the only berth I could get on short notice, and I’ve got bills t’pay.”

“I completely understand, mate,” the guard said as he opened the gate and waived Logan through. “Good journey to you.”

“Thanks mate,” Logan said as he walked through the gate.

Once inside he looked around. He didn’t see Caitlin or the others, but that was to be expected. They should have arrived before him. Caitlin yesterday, and Willie and David early this morning. They were all probably settling into their cabins already Logan hoisted his bag and walked towards the main gangway. A small part of his brain half expected to hear sirens go off indicating that the guard had looked at the papers more closely than Logan thought and that the charade had been exposed.

But there were no sirens and Logan reached the gangway and walked up to the open hatch without incident.

“And you are?” Asked the man at the top. He wore grease-stained coveralls and a long-sleeved, khaki shirt.

“Marcus Logan,” Logan said as he dropped the bag and started to fish out the paperwork.

“That won’t be necessary right now, lad, we’re running late and need to get underway. Which of course gets to the next question, why didn’t you check in two hours ago like you were s’posed ta?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Logan said as he searched for an excuse, “Time got away from me.”

“Don’t worry about it, lad, and don’t call me ‘sir.’ I was once Chief Petty Officer in the Royal Navy and I worked for a living.

“Call me Mac,” Mac said as he stuck out a big ham of a hand.

“Most call me Logan,” Logan said as he shook Mac’s hand.

“Logan it is, then,” Mac said as he checked a roster. “You’re in cabin 3B on deck 2, amidships.

“Now be quick about getting your stuff stowed and get down to the engine room, the captain plans to get underway as soon as the last containers are secured.”

“Right, on my way,” Logan said cheerfully, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to make a friend or two.”

Even having studied the layout of the ship in advance, the sheer size of it was nearly overwhelming as Logan headed for his cabin.

The ship itself was 500 meters long, 85 wide and 50 tall. Most of the internal space was the mammoth cargo bay. Containers were stored below decks in the cargo bay as well as lashed to the decks above. Containers that were stored below generally needed access to power for refrigeration.

Around the bay were four decks of ship space that included all the crew quarters, the galley and engineering. The bridge was perched on the top deck. Due to the massive size of the ship, very little could actually be seen from the bridge, so the crew -- such as it was -- monitored the ship’s progress using video feeds from cameras that covered almost every meter both inside and out.

Logan found his cabin easily enough, but was puzzled by the lack of any sort of handle or knob on the door. While he was trying to figure out how to open the thing, someone walked up.

“Is there a problem?” Logan turned and was surprised to find himself looking at Thomas Clifford, the Morning Star’s captain.

“No, sir, well, yes actually,” Logan stammered, only half pretending to be flustered. “Well, sir, my last ship had handles on the cabin doors.”

Clifford chuckled. The captain was just shy of three meters tall with a heavy build and a ruddy complexion. Though his name gave no indication of it, his voice spoke of a Scottish heritage.

“Don’t worry ’bout it, Mr. . .”

“Logan sir, Marcus Logan.”

“Mr. Logan,” The captain repeated as he pursed his lips as if trying to recall some information. “Ah yes, transferrin’ in from the Northern Spirit, under Captain Marcia Beckman.”

“That’s right sir,” Logan said, “The captain and I had a few disagreements and she made it clear she wanted me off her ship.

“I thought it best to get off in a port, though I suspect the captain wouldn’t have hesitated to put me off in the middle of the North Atlantic.”

Clifford snorted.

“Disagreements? I’d wager your being just a bit diplomatic,” Clifford said. “Personally, I never cared for the bitch.”

Logan’s eyebrow involuntarily went up at the captain’s comments. Not that he was offended, he just didn’t expect to hear such venom for a fellow officer expressed so freely. His new captain caught the expression. And laughed “This isn’t the Royal Navy, Mr. Logan, we don’t have the same code of etiquette here,“he said. “Now as to your cabin door.

“The Morning Star is the latest from Rabin shipyards in Israel,” Clifford said. “She has the highest level of computer support of any ship in the fleet. The computers control just about everything, right down to security.

“Was Mac at the gangway when you came aboard?”

“Yes sir,” Logan said.

“Well, he could have done this from his terminal there,” Clifford said. “My guess is, he was havin’ a wee bit of fun with you, making you stand here like a fool trying to figure out how to open the door.

“You’ll get used to his sense of humor, lad,” The captain said.

He pointed to a panel on the door.

“This is a standard comm panel, you’ll find them all over the ship.”

He touched a green button on the panel.

“Computer, open door to cabin 3B.”

The panel beeped once in acknowledgment. A second later the door slid open.

“After you,” Clifford said.

Logan walked into the room. The cabin was typical for a working vessel, small but not tiny, and built for two crewman. There was a small desk unit built into the far wall that included a computer screen and a slightly larger version of the comm panel he saw on the wall outside the cabin.

Clifford went over to the desk and touched the comm panel.

“Computer, activate ship access for Marcus Logan, authorization Clifford 1 Alpha.”

The computer beeped.

“The computer will now recognize you and open the door automatically based on ship’s sensors,” Clifford said. “So, the room is now yours, well yours and your cabin mate.”

“Would you know who that is?” Logan asked, trying to appear casual, “Not that it matters, really.”

Clifford shrugged.

“Computer, display room assignment for 3B.”

The computer monitor glowed to life and showed two names – Logan’s and Caitlin’s. Inside, Logan sighed with relief that luck had allowed him to be assigned a cabin with one of his team, although he knew the odds were pretty good that at least two of them would be together. Just then the cabin door slid open and Caitlin walked inside.

Caitlin let the barest hint of surprise show when she saw Logan in the cabin. The captain was looking at the computer screen and didn’t notice.

“You’re bunking with our new cook,” he began, then he turned and noticed that Caitlin was in the room, “Who seems to be here, welcome Ms. Anderson.”

“Captain,” she said.

“Well,” Clifford said, “I have to be on the bridge.”

He looked pointedly at Logan.

“And you need to be in engineering, we should have been underway in an hour ago.”

“Aye, captain,” Logan said.

“You can call me Caitlin.”

“Logan took her hand and shook it.

Even with the captain out of the room and the two alone, there ship personas would need to be maintained even in private until it was clear the rooms were not being monitored in any way.

“Marcus Logan, engineer’s mate. Just call me Logan.”

“Logan it is,” Caitlin said, looking at the bunks.

“Have you claimed one yet?”

“No, actually. . .” Logan began, but before he could finish the sentence, Caitlin tossed her bag on the bottom bunk.

“I’ll take the bottom,” she said, grinning.

“So it seems,” Logan said.

While Logan unpacked his few articles of clothing and placed them in the one drawer allotted to him, Caitlin inserted earphones into her ears and attached a small device to her belt. She stood and began to unpack, occasionally appearing to select a new song.

Several minutes later, Logan stood at the door, ready to walk down to engineering. Caitlin pulled the earphones out of her ear and looked at him.

“We’re clean,” she said simply.

“Good, so at least we know we have one room where we can talk,” Logan said. “Chances are, we won’t be lucky enough for Willie and David to be assigned to the same cabin, so this will probably serve as our command post while we are on this ship.”

“Agreed,” Caitlin said.

“Well, I’m off,” Logan said.

“And I’m going to check on my galley,” Caitlin replied as she checked her watch. “I suspect the crew will be wanting a bit of lunch once we’re underway.”

Logan opened the door and stepped into the corridor, knowing that once he was out of the cabin he had to resume his act. He stepped wide and waved Caitlin through the door with a flourish.

“After you, Ms. Anderson,” he said gallantly.

Caitlin glared at him as she walked past him into the corridor and headed off for the galley.

Caitlin found the galley without too much difficulty, and not surprisingly found it to be fairly compact as it only needed to serve the small crew of the freighter. Efficiency is everything.

She looked around, poking her head into the various food storage rooms that were well stocked with a large variety of fresh and preserved foods. The refrigerator and freezer were equally well provisioned. She checked out the stove, oven and cooking equipment and felt sure she would not give anyone in the crew reason to suspect she wasn’t anything other than a professional chef.

Suddenly, the comm panel on the desk in the corner of the galley beeped.

“Bridge to Galley, are you there Ms. Anderson?”

“Aye, captain, what can I do for you?”

“Well, from reading you file, I noticed this is your first trip on a freighter, and I was wondering if you would like to watch us put out to sea from the bridge?”

Caitlin thought for a moment before deciding it probably would not be a bad idea to be on the captain’s good side.

“Thank you, captain, I would indeed,” she said.

“Do you know the way to the bridge?”

“I think I can find it, I studied the Star’s diagrams before I came on board,” she answered quite truthfully.

“Very well, but be quick, the first moorings will be cast off in 10 minutes.”

Caitlin heard the intercom click off before she could reply.

“Well,” she said, “best not keep the captain waiting.”

Unfortunately for Caitlin, finding the way to the bridge was not quite as easy as finding the galley had been. Apparently, the layout of the Morning Star was just a bit different from the standard Masada class layout Logan had shown her. After about five minutes of wandering the corridor and with a growing sense that she had been walking in circles, Caitlin decided she needed to find someone and ask directions.

“Don’t panic,” she told herself, “The captain knows you’re on board, he invited you to the bridge. When you don’t show up, he will send someone to look for you.”

That thought buoyed her spirits a bit and helped her to fight down the growing sense of panic. She reached another intersection, which looked exactly liked all the other intersections she had passed. With one difference – a comm panel.

“Well, better to call and ask directions than have to be ‘rescued’,” she said as she punched the comm.

“Anderson to the bridge,” she said.

“This is the bridge,” came a voice that Caitlin didn’t recognize. Perhaps the captain wouldn’t find out that she had gotten lost on her first day.

“Hi, um, the captain invited me up to watch the undocking and I’ve sort of gotten a wee bit lost,” she said with more than a little tremor in her throat. She silently berated herself for appearing so scared. “Is there any way you can tell me where I am and the fastest way to get to the bridge.”

The voice on the other end of the comm chuckled.

“Actually ma’am, you’re standing right next to the bridge elevator.”

Caitlin looked and saw that she was indeed standing next to a door and a button that was obviously a call panel. She was so focused on the comm panel that she completely blocked out everything else.

“Um, yes, of course, thank you,” she said and quickly cut the circuit, then she leaned against the wall for a moment. “You are daft, you know that, right?”

She punched the button. She only had to wait a moment or two before the door slid silently open to reveal an elevator car. She got it and looked for the control panel. The top button was labeled “Bridge” and the bottom “Deck 10.” She punched the bridge button and waited.

The elevator door opened and Caitlin stepped out onto the bridge of the MV Morning Star. To Caitlin, the bridge more resembled old pictures she had seen of mission control at NASA in the U.S. or a nuclear power plant’s control room.

The bridge itself was essentially a long room that ran the width of the Star’s superstructure. The front and sides of the room consisted of floor to ceiling windows. There were windows at the front as well, but looking out them mostly revealed only the long bow of the ship. Hanging from the ceiling were five wide screen monitors showing different views fore, aft and from each side.

Just in front of the captain’s chair were a row of computer stations. Two crewman were tasked with monitoring all 10 stations, sitting in chairs mounted on a track that allowed them to move easily left and right as needed.

The captain sat in a slightly raised chair in the center of the room.

When he heard the sound of the elevator, the captain’s chair swiveled slightly so Clifford could see Caitlin.

“Ah, Ms. Anderson, finally made it, I see.”

Damn, Caitlin thought, he knows. Without another word, the captain turned his chair so he was looking straight ahead.

“Report.”

The crewmen both slid their chairs back and forth, quickly examining the computer screens and monitors.

“All ship’s systems show green and go for departure, captain,” said a young black man.

“Thank you, Mr. Cayne, standby. Mr. Franklin?”

“All computers and backup systems are online, captain, standing by to release magnetic docking clamps,” said Franklin, who had a trim build, blonde hair and blue-eyes. Part of Caitlin noticed what how cute the young seaman was.

“Ms. Anderson, you can see a bit better if you stand up here,” Clifford said, indicating the raised platform that held his chair.

“Thank you, sir,” Caitlin said as she stepped up and stood next to the captain’s chair and looked out the front window. She gave the captain a puzzled glance, which he immediately picked up on.

“I’d wager you’re wondering right about now how it is we steer the thing when we can’t see a bloody thing out of the windows,” he said.

“Something like that,” Caitlin agreed.

“Well, truth is, it’s mostly done by computer, even the course is laid in before we even leave dock,” he said. We don’t really need the windows, but it helps the crew to have someplace to go where they can look out have a clear view of the sky – a bigger view than they can get out of the port hole in their cabins.

“And in truth, we really only need the monitors which allow us to see everything we actually need to.”

“About the crew, captain, even with the computers, how do you run a ship this size with so few people?”

“This is your first trip on the U.S. Run, isn’t it?”

Caitlin nodded.

“The main reason is, the Americans insist on it,” he said. “They’re a paranoid lot these days and they insist on small crews so they are manageable.

“They don’t want to take the slightest chance of someone jumping ship and getting into America. That’s why the lot of us are locked up during the offloading process.”

Caitlin was stunned.

“Locked up, sir?” she asked slowly. This was something she was pretty sure of which Logan was unaware.

“Aye, none of us has seen any bit of America other than the outside of The Wall. The entire docking and off-loading process is computer controlled by the Americans. We all stay in our cabins until the ship is unloaded and floating free in the Atlantic for the trip home.

“I’m sure you noticed that the ship’s stores has enough food for a round trip?” he asked. “Which means, since you didn’t realize it, you’ll need to prepare about two days’ worth of food for the crew to keep in their cabins. Stuff that doesn’t need refrigeration.”

“Of course,” Caitlin said.

Before the captain could reply, Mr. Cayne turned and spoke.

“Captain, we’re ready, and the harbor master signals we are cleared to depart.”

Clifford thumbed his comm. Panel. “Engineering, report.”

“All systems show green, main drives and maneuvering systems at your command, Captain,” came the voice of Reginald Jackson, the Chief Engineer.

“Acknowledged, bridge out.

“Mr. Cayne, release the docking clamps and prepare to initiate the departure sequence.”

“Aye sir, docking clamps released and departure sequence is on the boards.”

“You may proceed, Mr. Cayne,” Clifford said.

“Aye sir, departing dock. Starboard maneuvering thrusters at 90 percent capacity. We are showing a .5 meter per second speed away from dockage.”

“Very good,” Clifford said as he leaned over to talk to Caitlin.

“You can watch various aspects of our departure on the monitors,” He said. “For instance this one . . .

Clifford pointed to one just to their right.

“Shows the dock we just left, while the third monitor from the left shows a bow view.”

Caitlin stood in silence and watched the monitors display various views of the Morning Star’s departure from Dover. She couldn’t help having a sinking feeling that the four of them had purchased a round-trip ticket with no real hope of accomplishing what they had set out to do.