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My phone buzzes on the nightstand, its screen casting a ghostly glow in the dim room. I grab it, seeing Simone’s name flash across.
“Mr. Jenks.” Her voice is tight. “These numbers don’t add up. It’s like money is vanishing into thin air.”
Just like the crew. What the hell is going on with this ship?
“Explain.” Sitting up, I take note and demand an explanation. My head throbs with the remnants of the psychic flash.
“There’ are a series of untraceable transactions. Funds are being diverted, but there’s no obvious pattern or recipient we can identify.”
“Damn it.” Rubbing my temples, I hear her out before instructing, “Keep digging.”
“I will. One more thing. The money that disappears, it’s all profit. The books are solid. No cutting corners on quality. They leverage every opportunity to grow the business. And put a solid percentage back in. But the rest…?”
I hang up, frustration boiling beneath my calm exterior. The scent of saltwater lingers in the room, an odd contrast to the polished wood and opulent decor.
Another intense flash, this one exquisitely vivid, strikes me forcefully. Underwater ruins, ancient and hauntingly beautiful, appear before my eyes. Coral-encrusted statues loom in the depths, their eyes watch me with knowing silence.
I gasp for breath as reality snaps back into place. My hands shake slightly; a sensation I’m not accustomed to.
Determined to find answers, I swing my legs out of bed and dress quickly. The ship is too quiet at this hour, an oppressive stillness settling over everything.
Insomnia and I are on a first-name basis, my nemesis going way back. I deal with it by walking. Most nights, I use a treadmill to exhaust myself. Stepping into the hallway, I wandering through the ship’s corridors. Dim lighting casts long, eerie shadows, but I am mired in my head. Surroundings are secondary.
I’m grateful the bustling public areas are deserted, shops closed. Bars are clean and tidy. The show stages and auditoriums are dark. Even the purser’s desk is empty. The night staff works in the back office, no need to sit out front when passengers are sleeping.
The emptiness feels unnatural, sinister. Whispers flit just beyond my perception, elusive and taunting.
I’m losing my mind. Or this ship is... No, that’s impossible. Ships aren’t sentient.
My solitary footsteps echo in the silence, a rhythmic reminder of my singular course. The air thickens with each step, as if the ship itself is breathing, alive with secrets it refuses to share. A flicker of movement catches my eye—a shadow darts around a corner. I follow. I’m in crew space now, driven by curiosity.
Ahead, a door materializes from the gloom. Ornate. Out of place in this spartan crew corridor. My hand reaches out instinctively, fingers tracing the intricate carvings on its surface. An electric tingle runs up my arm, and another psychic flash seizes me.
I’m submerged in cold, dark water. The ancient ruins rise around me, statues staring with hollow eyes. Their whispers become clearer: “Seeker... finder... join us...”
My vision blurs as I’m yanked back to reality. The corridor spins around me, walls closing in. I lean against the wall, not willing to touch the door again as I catch my breath and let the excess adrenaline diffuse.
Get a grip, Jenks.
The whispers grow louder, more insistent. I press my ear to the door, trying to make sense of them. “Seeker... finder...” The words chill me to my core. It’s as if the ship calls out to me.
I push against the door, but it doesn’t budge. My frustration mounts: answers are so close, yet so far out of reach. The ship’s layout warps in my mind—I’m lost in an unfamiliar part of this floating labyrinth.
I need to find Cordelia. Where did she go when she left me in the security office?
Determined not to succumb to paranoia or madness, I straighten up and force myself to move away, back into passenger space. Each step feels heavier than the last, as if the ship itself resists my progress. The whispers continue their relentless pursuit: “Join us...”
And for more than a fleeting moment, their call tempts me.
I exit onto an observation deck and pause, seeking a moment of clarity. The stars above blink indifferently, as if mocking my turmoil. The cool night air does little to calm my racing thoughts.
“Mr. Jenks.” Captain Voss steps out of the shadows into the faint light, her expression calm, knowing. It’s as if she expected me here, at this hour. Impossible.
“Captain.” I nod and wave an invitation to join me at the railing, unable to mask my surprise. “Out for a midnight stroll?”
“One could say that.”
Cryptic. What else is to be expected from this crew?
