The Emissary

by Patricia Cori

  “So then, with all due respect, Ms. Hastings, what are you doing here?”

  Jamie replied, tersely, “I’m here to try to prevent USOIL from creating an irreparable fissure in the Pacific Ocean’s floor, like they’ve done in the Gulf of Mexico—using equipment like your stupid gun array system. And face it, with all your ‘state-of-the-art’ technology, USOIL’s strategy certainly hasn’t been successful so far, now has it? Do tell, Chief Technician—has it?”

  “Hey, strategies come from the top. I just run the equipment and read and record data. That’s what I’m trained in and that’s what I do. If you’ve got a problem, talk to the boss.”

  “What about Philippe? Isn’t he supposed to be looking out for marine life, while you go charging around pinging up the ocean floor—and god knows what else?”

  Sam turned his chair, giving Jamie his back. “If you want to know what Philippe’s doing, talk to Philippe. I’m sharing what I do with you, as I have been told to do. I’m an engineer, not a whale conservationist.”

  “You bet I will.” Jamie got up abruptly and headed for the exit. “Thanks for the technology lesson. I’m done here.”

  “Are we finished? We haven’t even touched on the radar,” he said, insolently. He made no bones about how much pleasure he derived from getting under Jamie’s skin.

  “No thanks. I’ve had all the technology I can stand.” Jamie left, leaving Sam and Liz looking at each other, bewildered.

  “That didn’t go very well, now did it?” Sam said.

  “Well, you did set it up to fail, didn’t you?”

  Sam started flicking switches and slamming things around on the desk. “Like they’re not using substrata sonar in the desert over there in Pakistan? What’s the big deal?”

  “The whales,” Liz replied.

  “What about the whales? I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation. We’re looking for oil out here. I can’t help it if there are whales swimming around in the meantime. I mean, is this woman clueless, or what?”

  “Far from it. I just think she was blown away by the potential damage we could cause—in all fairness, we both know what kind of power we hold in our hands, now don’t we?”

  “Well, what did she think she was coming out on, the Love Boat?”

  “Hey you. Cut her some slack. You made it sound like we’re running a killing machine here. Why do you dislike her so much, anyway?”

  “I never said I disliked her,” Sam barked.

  “Yeah, right.”

  “I’d just like to know the real reason she’s on board. I’m not buying this idea that she’s going to have this ‘vision’ and bingo—we get the pot of gold. Give me a break.” He looked over the entire network of computer equipment. “Like a human mind can do more than all of this? Nobody’s going to tell me that she can reach down below the ocean floor in her mind and smell oil—or ‘see’ it—whatever the hell she supposedly does. Sorry, I’m not going for it.”

  “Don’t forget her track record, luv. What if she can?”

  “Can what?”

  “What if she really can just pinpoint where those reserves are—just from seeing them psychically?”

  “If she can see what’s going on beneath the seafloor? You believe this bull?”

  Liz simply said, “Yes, I do.”

  “Well, then she probably knows what’s going on up on deck, right now … don’t you think?”

  “And what exactly is going on up here?” Liz replied, seductively.

  “Well.… It seems to me like one hot lady wants to play with fire.” He leaned over, and pulled Liz to him. They kissed gently at first and then it got passionate—they were all over each other. Footsteps passing outside the door startled him and he pulled away abruptly, thinking Jamie might have decided to come back. He cracked the window shade and saw it was Brady walking past the door, which was closed, and there was no way he could have seen through the blinds. “We better cool it a minute here,” he said.

  Liz sat upright in her chair, distancing herself. “Agreed.”

  They had to lay off while they were on duty, or for sure they would get caught in the act, and neither of them wanted that—especially Liz, who was on trial, doing her internship for six months.

  Sam tried to switch gears. “I guess I better not even tell her about Poseidon. One thousand pulses per second—that is guaranteed to permanently blow her mind.”

  “I think you managed to blow her mind enough for one day.”

  “Something else is going on here. This whole thing is too weird—I just want to go on record that I’m not buying any of it.”

  “Oh for god sakes, man! Like what?”

  “I don’t know. But nobody’s going to convince me that we’re going to wake up one morning, while we’re floating around in the middle of the ocean, with Jamie Hastings dishing out the coordinates for the drills. That is just fantasy island.” He flicked several switches, then leaned over to the intercom and buzzed the bridge. “Captain, we’re ready to roll here—minus one psychic.”

  Jimbo’s voice fed back through the intercom. “You mean to tell me you already scared away Miss Jamie?”

  “Apparently she doesn’t do technology, sir.”

  “Yeah, well … don’t forget the orders come from the top, so mind your manners.”

  “I’m doing my best, Captain.”

  “All right, good. Now let’s get moving here. We’ve only got four hours of light left.”

  The radar antennae and other equipment at the top of the ship began turning, slowly at first, and then quickening.

  “We’re right on and tracking, sir.”

  Jimbo looked up at the two navigational monitors over the command board, just as a strange anomaly appeared on the screen. It whizzed across both monitors with amazing speed and then, in an instant, they went completely blank. For a moment, he thought the whole ship had lost power. He tapped on his microphone to see if it was working. “Sam, I’ve lost both screens. What just happened?”

  His call interrupted Sam and Liz, who were otherwise mesmerized by the escalating sexual fire they couldn’t seem to put out. The more they tried to restrain themselves, the more things heated up. They were right in the middle of another passionate kiss when it happened, and neither of them saw the flash, nor did they notice the screens had gone black.

  Sam turned on his microphone. “Huh? That’s weird. Hold on.” He fiddled nervously with the computer equipment until the monitors came back on.

  “I’m back up now, both screens. Did you catch that?”

  “Sorry, Captain … catch what?”

  Jimbo was silent for a moment, and then in a comedic, theatrical voice he said, “Thought I heard one of them big whites sayin’…‘you better watch your asses’!”

  “Damn, Captain, did anybody ever tell you you’ve got a Jaws fixation?” Sam retorted, but inwardly he was wondering if somehow Jimbo was on to them. Romancing the intern was absolutely out of the question if he wanted to keep his job, no matter what kind of a foxy babe the company had sent to tempt him. He would have to answer to his father if he screwed up the USOIL gig—and no good-looking woman was worth that.

  “Like I told you, Sammy boy: it’s a matter of respect.” Through the intercom, they could hear Jimbo singing in falsetto, imitating Aretha Franklin: “R-E-S-P-E-C-T, find out what it means to me … just a little respect, won’t you come on, hey baby …” Sam and Liz chuckled, but Sam still wondered if he was getting a cloaked message, and he backed off Liz immediately.

  “So strange, Captain. I have no clue what just happened. There are so many security systems backing us up—no way the system could have gone down and come back up in seconds.”

  “Does everything check out?”

  “Yes, sir, we’re back on. All monitors fully operative.”

  “Okay. Run a systems check in the morning.”

  “Will do.” Jimbo was the one person to whom Sam deferred. He was, in some ways, in awe of him. He looked up to J
imbo as a role model, a man who walked to a different drummer, someone he could talk to: the kind of man he secretly longed to be. In his eyes, Jimbo was the free spirit he would never become, no matter how he tried. He’d had too much indoctrination from his father, the congressman.

  “So, where’s Miss Jamie?” Jimbo asked, shifting gears.

  In that moment, resenting how the mere mention of Jamie interfered with his camaraderie with the captain, Sam realized that he was actually jealous of her. That was the real problem. He resented how she had come in as a figure of authority, and how she had so effortlessly connected with the captain. “And then the little suck-up with the cigars. Nice touch,” Sam thought, talking it through in his mind. The feeling was akin to sibling rivalry. It was the first time he got in touch with his adversity to Jamie Hastings. He didn’t want her interfering in his relationship with Jimbo, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to be outdone by her.

  Liz leaned into the intercom to answer. “She stormed out, after her first and probably last briefing with Sam.”

  “Don’t you go scaring her on me, kid. We need her to ‘smell the oil,’ remember?”

  “Yeah, right. Three miles down.” Sam leaned back in his chair, shielding his feelings of insecurity from Liz, while they exchanged sexual glances, both eager for night to fall so they could carry on in the privacy behind closed doors.

  Jimbo turned off the intercom and entered one speed dial number on the ship-to-shore radio. His hand cupping the mouthpiece, he said in a low voice, “We’re in the zone. And they’re here.” He hung up without saying another word … and without waiting for a reply.

  Out on main deck, Fin ran back and forth excitedly, all around the ship. His annoying behavior was becoming a distraction for the crew. Bobby finally grabbed him by the collar and put him on a leash, to try to get him to calm down, before walking him up to the bridge. “I don’t know what’s up with Fin,” he told Jimbo, apologetically. He felt it wasn’t his place to reprimand the captain’s dog. “He’s all over the place. Crazy like. I took him down below to do his thing—so that’s not it.” He unhooked the leash. Fin walked in and went right over to his bed, barely looking up at Jimbo, as if he knew he was in trouble.

  “Now you listen here, boy. You got to cool it for a while. You just stay with the Big Kahuna and stop making everybody crazy.”

  Fin looked up, sighed, and put his head down to sleep.

  “I’m going to go get a few hours of shut-eye before my shift, if that’s okay with you, Captain?” Bobby said, turning to go.

  “Sure thing. Domenico didn’t answer his pager. Tell him we need some coffee up here on your way down.”

  Bobby nodded, and disappeared down the stairs.

  By early evening, the wind had picked up substantially, and the water, which had been smooth as glass in the morning, was getting rough, with four-foot waves slapping the ship from stem to stern. Jamie had gone to her cabin to clear her mind of Sam’s technology briefing, and to get an idea of the oceanscape beneath them, through meditation, taking herself down below the waves to observe the ocean floor. As conditions worsened, she started to feel seasick, which kept her in body awareness, so much so that she could not even get close to a meditative state. Her faculty was shut down completely, and all that she could think about was the roll of the ship. When she could bear it no longer, she left her stateroom and went looking for Doc. Surely, she figured, he would have a remedy in his medical supplies. She returned to the living room, where the staff was socializing over drinks, enjoying leisure time. Nobody else looked the least bit affected by the rolling pitch of the ship.

  The first one to see her come into the room was Liz, who was playing a game of backgammon with Sam. “Whoa! You’re looking pretty green, there, Jamie. Are you all right?”

  Jamie steadied herself, leaning up against the wall. “Let’s say I’m still trying to get my sea legs.”

  “I’ve got Dramamine—shall I get it for you?” Liz asked.

  Jimbo was relaxing in front of the television. Doc got up to go to get something from his supply cabinet, but the captain waved at him to sit back down. “You don’t need meds, man. The best cure for seasickness is an ice-cold beer.”

  Feeling sicker by the minute, Jamie staggered across the room, struggling with the ship’s motion, and sat down near Jimbo. She put her head in her hands, completely incapacitated.

  Jimbo got right up out of his chair to get her a beer from the refrigerator. “It’s the hops. Best thing for seasickness—trust an old salt.” He was gentle, but he knew he had to help her get her mind off it. “I promise not to smoke a Cubano tonight.”

  Jamie took the beer gratefully. She was so squeamish that even the thought of smelling cigar smoke made her stomach turn, and she knew there would be no way food was going to touch those lips, beer or no beer. Not this night. She excused herself and got up to leave, but Jimbo insisted she stay in the living room, so they could help her through it.

  “The thing about seasickness is—the more you think about it, the worse it gets,” Jimbo said. “So stay here with us—we’ll put you right in no time.” Reluctantly, she yielded to Jimbo’s advice. “You get comfortable here, a little TV … Fin right here. Alberto!”

  The chef popped out from the galley, where he was preparing dinner.

  “Bring some saltines for our guest! Miss Jamie be havin’ the green meanies.”

  Alberto came back out from the galley with a dish of saltines and he stood over her, making sure she at least nibbled on one, which she did, and convincing her that she needed to eat at least one or two, if she could get them down. “I made a beautiful melanzane alla parmigiana tonight for everyone—it’s vegetarian, too! You just tell me when you are ready to eat—any time of the night, and I will warm it up for you,” he said.

  Eggplant? What possibly could be heavier on her stomach than that? The mere thought of it made her feel like leaning over the railing.

  The dinner bell sounded and everyone took a seat at the table, with the exception of Bobby, who was on duty at the helm, and Jimbo, who went to housekeeping to grab a blanket for Jamie. While the others started eating, he wrapped her up in it and stayed with her, making sure she was comfortable. He didn’t want her to run back to the cabin—that was the last place she needed to be. It was at the back of the ship: she would feel the motion even more there and she would be closer to the fumes, even if only a faint trace actually made it up to main deck.

  Fin, who at last had calmed down from the frenetic behavior of the day, stayed with her, instead of following Jimbo to the table. They healed each other, just being quiet together. No amount of persuasion from his master would lure Fin away from Jamie; he just lay there, close, holding her in the protective field of his energy, and becoming more calm and relaxed in hers.

  Domenico served up Alberto’s delicious fare. Sam was right: in a perfect world, the cooks are Italian. Spirits were high and the conversation flowed, with Jimbo always at the center of attention, recounting another one of his famous stories. He had them all in stitches, telling a long tale about getting caught with his pants down, making love to somebody’s wife in a port halfway around the world. They loved him and humored him, knowing that a lot of his stories were mere fantasies and that others were built around secrets that would never be told.

  Jamie felt like such an outsider sitting there, bundled up in her blanket. She couldn’t help but notice how much more relaxed they all seemed without her presence at the table—as if her being amongst them stripped the fun out of their whole dynamic. She knew she was perceived as being different from them and, then again, these were mostly people who had spent so much time together they had formed solid relationships. She was the new entry—still disconnected. There were obstacles to overcome and she knew that it wouldn’t happen overnight.

  By the time dinner was over, she was amazed at how much better she felt. The beer and crackers trick worked: not enough to regain her appetite, especially not for eggplant parmes
an, but enough to be over the nausea, and she was thrilled for that.

  Jimbo joined her, once dinner was done. “The beer, right?”

  “The beer did it,” she replied, grateful for his help.

  “Don’t forget, Miss Jamie, I’ve got your back.”

  One by one, people left the table. Domenico cleared it immediately and then he and Alberto disappeared into the galley, where they still had to prepare to serve the crew in their mess hall.

  Brady stood by his dining chair. “Hey, anybody up for some casino action?”

  Sam, Liz, Doc, and Philippe all signaled that they were in, while Jimbo excused himself. He retired to the captain’s chair, seated across from Jamie.

  “What about Alberto and Domenico?” Brady asked.

  “They’re tied up for a while,” Doc said. “They can come in later.”

  Everybody sat back down. Brady got out the deck, chips, and a notepad and started divvying up the chips, keeping track of everything on paper. Stakes could get high sometimes, on those long evenings out in the middle of the ocean.

  With the game under way, Jamie and Jimbo tuned out the others and got into a deep discussion.

  “I hear you spent some time with Sam. All clear?” he asked.

  “All too clear.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning Mat forgot to mention that you had weapons-grade sonar equipment on this ship.”

  “Weapons? Sonar isn’t a weapon, Miss Jamie.”

  “Tell that to the whales and dolphins who are getting their brains blown out of their heads.”

  “Aww, now, that’s a little bit drastic …”

  “You’re damned right it’s drastic, Captain.” Jamie was intense, and her anguish was palpable. “These are sentient beings.”

  “You know what? I’m thinking it must be a real bitch, feeling and seeing all the things you do. I don’t think I’d want the vision you got.”

  “You don’t have to be psychic to feel pain. Or to care.”

  Philippe overheard them talking from the table. “Deal me out a minute.” He walked over to where Jimbo and Jamie were sitting. “Is this a private conversation?”