Refueling Our Cruise Ship

Fourteen days. All it took. I heard stories of some cities where it was a matter of hours before the chaos set in, but by now, everywhere has fallen into the fray. More importantly new order is starting to arise independently. Petty dictators and overcomplicated republics, both doomed to collapse under their own problems, but new order none the less. Slowly and haphazardly, but it is a start. I look out over the waters, at the small flag flying above our next port of call. Talia approaches quietly, her feet barely making a noise on the metal of the topdeck. “Vinnie,” she says, “Is this going to be a problem?” She gestures vaguely at the flag.

I shrug. “Probably,” I admit, “But we need fuel and this is the only functional station for a while.”

“Captain Mendoza says we might be able to make it to the next refueling port, if everything is in our favor and we cut back.”

I shake my head. “We already cut back on rations and drinks,” I reply, “Cutting back on lights might just cause another riot.”

She grimaces. She knows I’m right, but doesn’t particularly want to admit it. After all, we both were elected members of the Council. A riot on this cruise ship after a shift in priorities is exactly how we got into power. Thirteen days ago, a day after the light from the explosions could be seen in the distance, we came to a destroyed port at the end of our voyage, one without a dock to disembark. A man captaining a commercial fishing boat, which has followed and worked with us ever since, told us about it all. The destruction across the country, and possibly even the world. And so the captain elected to continue north, which wasn’t a problem. The rich folk, however, decided that they should cut electricity to the non-suites and limit access to the ship’s entertainment areas. We found that less than acceptable, and after a spot of selective violence, the council was established. Each deck elected a representative, who served alongside the captain. And while we did put limits on electricity prior to the first refueling stop, we did it equally to all. And those limits have since been removed.

“No, we just have to deal with whichever minor state has decided this depot belongs to them. No different than the last one,” I lie.

Talia smiles, seeing right through me. “No difference between dealing with a theoretically organized government and dealing with a crazy guy with a shotgun and a desire for beer?”

I shake my head. “So, I’m guessing it’s up to us to negotiate?” I ask.

“Julio is coming, too. And Barry has promised to keep an eye on things from the perch.”

“And Mendoza?” I ask, knowing the answer. We both know she is going to stay on the ship. She doesn’t want any of us semi-mutinous passengers getting emboldened into a proper mutiny.

Talia shakes her head. “Haven’t asked yet. Wanted to make sure you didn’t want us to continue up the coast.”

“We can convene a meeting, if the captain wants to press the matter,” I muse aloud.

She laughs, shaking her head. “No, we’re good. She just offered up an alternative.”

“Which we can do if negotiations fail,” I offer as a consolation to the captain. “Check in with her, make sure she’s staying on the ship, then meet me at the embarkation doors. On your deck. We’ll meet Julio on the dock itself.”

She nods and heads off towards the bridge. I take one last look at the flag, a knight chess piece on the blue corner of the American flag. It has to have some kind of meaning, though I don’t know what. I think about it as I head back into the ship, walking down the cramped side stairs. I avoid the main pathways generally when wandering the ship. My face is too recognizable, and too many people want things from me. Unfortunately, everyone knows we’re coming in to dock, so they only have to wait by one of the doorwells. As I make it to the eighth deck of the ship, I look through the halls. They know me too well. Several people are around the embarkation door. Waiting for us. As I approach, one of the crew members, Mai, stops me. “Can you check on what’s happening, the news.”

A passenger, Darren, who has the room next to mine down in the belly of the ship, asks, “You think we might be able to stay a day, cruise style? I’d love to relax on solid ground.”

A different passenger, one from the upperdeck cabins, asks, “You think you can negotiate us some more booze? The dive bar’s running low.”

I sigh, nodding. “I will,” I reply to the crew member, “Though I can’t promise anything. We’ll see how much these people know.” Turning to the upper passenger, I add, “We can certainly try, but they may not be in any better shape than us as far as alcohol’s concerned.” Then, to the man I fought beside in the riot, I add, “And you know as well as I that depends on the port of call. I’ll ask if the area seems stable enough, but they might still say no.”

“They got a flag, that means they think they’re stable enough,” he counters with a smirk, then nods. Then he adds, “If they do say no, can you convene a meeting to find a place to spend a day on dry land? Some of us are going a bit stircrazy.”

“If you can convince a couple other decks, we need three members interested in a topic to have an emergency meeting on said topic. Otherwise, it’ll have to wait for the monthly one in two weeks,” I remind my not-quite-friend. He knows as well as I that if I want a meeting, I could organize one. But it doesn’t serve to have all the other passengers on other decks know that. Because, while the council all have equal votes in our meetings and frequently vote against me, the bowels and the non-sailing crew are where the semi-mutiny started, which means if either of our representatives, me or Helena, want a meeting, a meeting will happen.

Darren nods. “Alright, I can find some folk.” He turns to the others waiting, “Ain’t that right?”

Several of them nod, as though they had similar thoughts they’d wanted to voice. Some of them even leave, to find their own reps to ask them about it. The crowd grows thin, as most of them had the same two requests. Booze and shoretime, that is. One other person that I vaguely recognize as a suite resident, remains. I look at him, and he sighs. My face is probably harsher than it should be, but that’s why I don’t really interact with the suites much. The kid, probably about twenty, asks, “Can you ask if they know about other states in the area? I wonder if there is any communication between them, or if everything’s still entirely isolated, like with the last few stops.”

Interesting thing to wonder. “I can ask. Any reason in particular?” I reply.

“If they have communication, then we might not have to sail all the way around to find out if Europe is the same. Once we make it up to Canada or at the furthest Greenland, someone would have had the same questions and reached out already,” he explains.

I nod. “Makes sense. One problem,” I look around. It’s a couple of crewpeople, Darren, and the kid. No one who doesn’t already know other than this kid, and quite frankly I don’t care if the suites realize. “The hope issue. We learn there isn’t somewhere better, what do you think that’ll do to the ship?”

He seems to genuinely consider it, nodding. “Not an urgent thing, I doubt these people would reach out. They seem rather nationalist and isolationist. I need to think on the next steps,” and he turns to head off.

“Why isolationist?” I ask. The nationalist makes sense, they made a whole custom flag and took up half of it with the old flag.

“The knight,” the kid replies, “It’s the only chess piece that doesn’t care about any other pieces on the board.” And he walks away before I can reply.

He may be right, but there is another reason for the knight. Chess makes for iconic images, and a knight is someone powerful, strong, and idealistic. They might be using it less for its piece and chess and more because anyone sees a chess piece that looks like a horse and the concept of knights is called to mind.

Darren sees my mind drifting, and asks, “So who’s all going with you?”

“Captain Solano is joining us at the dock, but only Talia is walking with me.”

He grins, “In that case, I might just stick around.”

I smack the back of his head. “Or you might organize. If we are going to stay, we need to figure out everything we can about this area. That means go over the manifest, see if we have anyone aboard from the region, then talk with them and learn activities that can be done. Because I don’t want us idling here without anything to do and making the little nation-state nervous before we are fully fueled up. Got it?”

Mia nods, and grabs Darren, pulling him towards the crew area. They’ll head downstairs to the file room. Darren might be a bit rough around the edges, but when push comes to shove, he gets shit done. A few moments later, Talia shows up. Seeing no one around, she gives a little fistpump. “Yes, I knew I could delay long enough.”

I sigh. “I should’ve let Darren stay.”

She furrows her brow. “What did Darren want?” she asks.

“Shore,” I reply.

She shakes her head. “Then you definitely did the right thing. I assume you told him maybe and sent him off to keep busy?”

I shake my head. “No, I said maybe and sent him to find a way to keep a ship full of weird people going a little stircrazy busy if we do end up staying the day on dry land.”

“Even better, make the guy feel useful,” she half jokes as she opens the doors. The cruise ship lumbers to a stop a good distance off from the dock, and some people are there to meet us. People with guns. This’ll be fun. She looks at me, clearly a bit nervous before extending the gangway and together we make our way out into the open.

As we hit the dock, one of the two armed people talks. “We don’t get visitors we don’t already know that often,” he admits, “Not showing up at our port.”

“We were just passing through, hoping to fill up our tanks before heading out again.” I speak calmly, keeping my hands open and facing them, my arms forming something of a W to show I’m unarmed and non-threatening. I can do that because I can feel Barry watching, so I don’t need to be threatening.

They look at each other and nod, “That depends on what you got to offer, we’ll take you to the boss.”

I curl my fingers of one hand until only my pointer finger remains up. “We do have one more gentleman joining us, Captain Solano. He sails the trawler in our wake.”

They nod, and back off, letting the fishing ship dock as well. The tall, wide, and athletic figure of Julio Solano steps off the ship and joins us. “Guns today?” he muses to me.

I smile. “These protectors of their home,” I begin gesturing to them. They seem to appreciate the terminology. “Have decided to bring us to the leader of this fine state, to negotiate on fuel.”

The other one, the guy who hasn’t spoken yet, says in a gravel-filled voice, “I trust you guys aren’t armed.” They are talking about guns, almost certainly, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t admit to other things.

Julio pulls out a small, thin, curved blade. “Only my fish-gutter,” he says, sliding it back into its wooden sheath.

Talia pulls out her extendable baton. “Does this count?” she asks.

I shake my head. “I know better,” I say. In close quarters, I find it easier to let the other guy bring the weapon and borrow it when I need to kill them. They assume I mean that I know better than to bring weapons to a negotiation. I don’t correct that assumption.

They smile, nod, and say, “Then you can come right this way.” And they begin to lead us down the docks to a somewhat fancily decorated house by the edge of the water.