First Fate Sneak Peek
Chapter one
Gunner McCrae scowled at the monitor and jabbed his finger at the satellite image of the category-three storm cell that’d been chasing them since Rose of the Sea had left Hawaii yesterday morning. If the hurricane continued to intensify like it was, the Captain would need to rethink the cruise ship’s course ASAP. Without warning, his monitor died. As did the nav system. And the radar. “What the hell?” Gunner jolted back, scanning the bridge. Every single screen was blank. The lights were also out. The Captain drove his hands through his thick hair. “Shit!” Captain Nelson rarely swore. Never in front of women. Gunner spun to his Captain, seeking clarification. Nelson’s eyes were wide, darting from one screen to the next, his thick brows drilled together. “Sir?” “The whole bridge is down.” The Captain’s gaze shot along blank consoles. “Everything’s dead.” |
He spoke with his usual composure. But his expression was that of trapped horror. “We’re dead in the water!”
“What the hell?” Gunner held the utmost respect for Captain Nelson. He was the father he’d never had. A pillar of strength. A man in control.
He didn’t look it now. For the first time since Gunner had known him, Nelson was lacking in action. Gunner stood and strode alongside the center console, jabbing buttons, desperate for a flicker of life. Nothing. “But how?” Not even the indicator lights flared.
First Officer Cameron Sykes slapped the Electronic Chart Display joystick and shook his head. “I got nothing.”
“No. No. No!” Nelson drove his hands through his hair again. “This can’t be happening.” When his eyes darted from Gunner to the dead equipment and back again, Gunner’s neck hairs shot to attention. Nelson’s expression was loaded with fear.
Second Officer Pauline Gennaro spun to the Captain, yanking off her headset. “Comms are down. I can’t even get the engine room online.”
“It’s an electromagnetic pulse.” Nelson’s voice quivered, lacerated with anguish. “An EMP. It has to be.”
“All the security monitors are down too.” Deck Cadet Reynolds pushed back on his chair.
Sweat beaded Safety Officer Robert Hastings’ forehead as he stared at the closed-circuit televisions. The monitors should display key aspects of the ship in rotation, providing multiple visuals of each deck. Every one of them was blank.
Even the exit sign over the door was out.
Darkness seeped into the bridge. It wasn’t designed for blackouts. Day or night, Gunner could usually see every inch of the room. The banks of computers should be lit up like the party deck at the rear of the ship. But with the sun hanging low on the western horizon, Gunner could barely see the length of the bridge. He turned to Nelson. The Captain’s eyes were wide, his lips pale. “Are you sure it’s an EMP, sir? It could be—”
“Look around.” Nelson barked. He smacked his lips together as if wrestling with his words, or unable to voice what he needed to say. “The electronics are dead.” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down and he cleared his throat. “Not just the computers. Satnav. Lights. Comms.” He sucked in a shaky breath. “They’re all on different circuits, yet they all died in the same instant. If it was just one, maybe even two circuits, we could attribute it to mechanical or system failure. But the whole bridge . . .” Shaking his head, he glanced at his wrist. “Even my watch is dead. Yours?”
Gunner stared at the watch his wife had given him last month for their tenth wedding anniversary. The screen was blank. He blinked at it. Tapped the glass. Nothing. The hairs on his arms bristled, adding to the dread crawling up his back.
“It was an EMP. And it’s happened exactly as they said it would when I was back in the navy. Everything fried in an instant.” Nelson leaned his palms on the blank GPS console. He huffed out a breath. “It’s the only explanation.”
Scraping his thoughts together, Gunner glared at Nelson. The air in the bridge seemed to crackle, loaded with static. “But how can that be? The hull’s solid metal. We’re protected.”
“Below decks maybe. But up here on the bridge . . .” Glancing to his left, Nelson’s eyes bulged. “And look.” He pointed at the exit. “The door was open . . .”
Sheryl, the middle-aged woman who’d been cleaning Rose of the Sea’s bridge since its maiden voyage twenty-five years ago, was humming to herself and gliding a squeegee over the glass like it was the most important job on the cruise ship. The squeak of rubber was like nails scraping up Gunner’s back.
Nelson’s face washed with a gray tinge. He slowly shook his head. “We can’t even sound an alarm.” He jabbed the ship’s horn button. The blast that usually blared from the loudspeakers could wake an entire island. Not this time. “If . . .” Nelson sucked a breath through clenched teeth. “If I’m right, the whole world is—” He clutched his chest. His eyes flared.
“Sir!” Gunner ran to his side.
Nelson didn’t just fall. He keeled sideways, smacked his head on a chair and hit the floor without so much as a hand to halt his impact.
“Sir! Captain!” Gunner dropped to his knees and turned Nelson over. His blue eyes were open. His mouth too. His protruding tongue was motionless.
Gunner pressed his finger to the clammy skin beneath Nelson’s neck, praying for a pulse . . . nothing.
“Shit! Someone get the doctor.” Gunner tilted the Captain’s head back, opening his airway, but the crew failed to move. “Now!” He hadn’t meant to yell, but the fury behind it must’ve shocked Miguel into action, because the ship’s quartermaster gasped and raced out of the bridge like he’d been torpedoed from the room.
Gunner began compressions, pushing with all his weight behind his overlapping hands. “One, two, three.” He’d only ever performed CPR on medical dummies. They’d never felt like this. This was too confronting. Too real. The Captain was a friend. They’d done their rookie cruise together nineteen years ago and they’d kept in touch ever since.
“Is he breathing?” Without pausing his compressions, Gunner stared at the Captain’s lips, expecting them to move. They didn’t. “Someone check. Quick. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen.”
Third Officer Jae-Ellen Rochford fell to her knees and leaned her ear to the Captain’s lips. Easing back, she shook her head. Tears flooded her eyes.
Twenty-four. Twenty-five.
The bridge became silent—too silent. Like a funeral parlor. Gunner jolted. Something else had stopped.
The engines.
This can’t be happening!
Thirty-eight. Thirty-nine. Forty. The three remaining staff stared at him, their eyes wide, their mouths open. Shock or dismay or disbelief had them rooted to the floor.
But there was something else.
Gunner’s heart thudded against his ribs. Realization slammed into him like a wrecking ball. With the Captain out of action, he was in charge of the ship.
Him . . . Gunner McCrae . . . Captain.
Fifty-three. Fifty-four. Fifty-five.
He wasn’t prepared. Far from it. This was his maiden voyage on Rose of the Sea.
I’ve only just been promoted to Staff Captain, for Christ’s sake.
He worked damn hard. But it wasn’t to rise up the ranks.
No. He worked hard to keep his mind off his guilt.
Sixty-six. Sixty-seven.
He was not worthy of this captaincy. Of any captaincy.
It should be someone else. Someone smarter. Braver. Someone more trustworthy.
It should be Captain Nelson.
“Check again,” he barked at Jae-Ellen.
She pushed her fingers under Nelson’s chin and shook her head. “No, sir. Still no pulse.”
“Where the hell’s the doctor?”
“I’ll go check.” Safety Officer Hastings bolted past Sheryl who stood with her squeegee in one hand, her other hand over her mouth and her bulging eyes glued to Captain Nelson.
A vise clamped around Gunner’s chest at what he saw over her shoulder. The sun was sinking. If an EMP strike had fried every electrical component on the ship, in less than one hour, they’d be in a total blackout.
Eighty-one. Eighty-two.
“Pauline, get the flashlights ready,” he ordered.
She spun on her heel and raced to the back of the bridge. Sykes returned his attention to the computers. Reynolds did too.
Gunner glanced at the consoles. Every one of them was blank, as if a giant harpoon had been shot through the entire bank of computers, obliterating their central cores. Sykes shifted from one to the next, flicking switches, bashing the keyboards. The Global Maritime Distress and Safety System was dead. All the navigational instruments were dead. Even the switchboard was dead.
They were at the mercy of the ocean.
“What the hell?” Gunner held the utmost respect for Captain Nelson. He was the father he’d never had. A pillar of strength. A man in control.
He didn’t look it now. For the first time since Gunner had known him, Nelson was lacking in action. Gunner stood and strode alongside the center console, jabbing buttons, desperate for a flicker of life. Nothing. “But how?” Not even the indicator lights flared.
First Officer Cameron Sykes slapped the Electronic Chart Display joystick and shook his head. “I got nothing.”
“No. No. No!” Nelson drove his hands through his hair again. “This can’t be happening.” When his eyes darted from Gunner to the dead equipment and back again, Gunner’s neck hairs shot to attention. Nelson’s expression was loaded with fear.
Second Officer Pauline Gennaro spun to the Captain, yanking off her headset. “Comms are down. I can’t even get the engine room online.”
“It’s an electromagnetic pulse.” Nelson’s voice quivered, lacerated with anguish. “An EMP. It has to be.”
“All the security monitors are down too.” Deck Cadet Reynolds pushed back on his chair.
Sweat beaded Safety Officer Robert Hastings’ forehead as he stared at the closed-circuit televisions. The monitors should display key aspects of the ship in rotation, providing multiple visuals of each deck. Every one of them was blank.
Even the exit sign over the door was out.
Darkness seeped into the bridge. It wasn’t designed for blackouts. Day or night, Gunner could usually see every inch of the room. The banks of computers should be lit up like the party deck at the rear of the ship. But with the sun hanging low on the western horizon, Gunner could barely see the length of the bridge. He turned to Nelson. The Captain’s eyes were wide, his lips pale. “Are you sure it’s an EMP, sir? It could be—”
“Look around.” Nelson barked. He smacked his lips together as if wrestling with his words, or unable to voice what he needed to say. “The electronics are dead.” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down and he cleared his throat. “Not just the computers. Satnav. Lights. Comms.” He sucked in a shaky breath. “They’re all on different circuits, yet they all died in the same instant. If it was just one, maybe even two circuits, we could attribute it to mechanical or system failure. But the whole bridge . . .” Shaking his head, he glanced at his wrist. “Even my watch is dead. Yours?”
Gunner stared at the watch his wife had given him last month for their tenth wedding anniversary. The screen was blank. He blinked at it. Tapped the glass. Nothing. The hairs on his arms bristled, adding to the dread crawling up his back.
“It was an EMP. And it’s happened exactly as they said it would when I was back in the navy. Everything fried in an instant.” Nelson leaned his palms on the blank GPS console. He huffed out a breath. “It’s the only explanation.”
Scraping his thoughts together, Gunner glared at Nelson. The air in the bridge seemed to crackle, loaded with static. “But how can that be? The hull’s solid metal. We’re protected.”
“Below decks maybe. But up here on the bridge . . .” Glancing to his left, Nelson’s eyes bulged. “And look.” He pointed at the exit. “The door was open . . .”
Sheryl, the middle-aged woman who’d been cleaning Rose of the Sea’s bridge since its maiden voyage twenty-five years ago, was humming to herself and gliding a squeegee over the glass like it was the most important job on the cruise ship. The squeak of rubber was like nails scraping up Gunner’s back.
Nelson’s face washed with a gray tinge. He slowly shook his head. “We can’t even sound an alarm.” He jabbed the ship’s horn button. The blast that usually blared from the loudspeakers could wake an entire island. Not this time. “If . . .” Nelson sucked a breath through clenched teeth. “If I’m right, the whole world is—” He clutched his chest. His eyes flared.
“Sir!” Gunner ran to his side.
Nelson didn’t just fall. He keeled sideways, smacked his head on a chair and hit the floor without so much as a hand to halt his impact.
“Sir! Captain!” Gunner dropped to his knees and turned Nelson over. His blue eyes were open. His mouth too. His protruding tongue was motionless.
Gunner pressed his finger to the clammy skin beneath Nelson’s neck, praying for a pulse . . . nothing.
“Shit! Someone get the doctor.” Gunner tilted the Captain’s head back, opening his airway, but the crew failed to move. “Now!” He hadn’t meant to yell, but the fury behind it must’ve shocked Miguel into action, because the ship’s quartermaster gasped and raced out of the bridge like he’d been torpedoed from the room.
Gunner began compressions, pushing with all his weight behind his overlapping hands. “One, two, three.” He’d only ever performed CPR on medical dummies. They’d never felt like this. This was too confronting. Too real. The Captain was a friend. They’d done their rookie cruise together nineteen years ago and they’d kept in touch ever since.
“Is he breathing?” Without pausing his compressions, Gunner stared at the Captain’s lips, expecting them to move. They didn’t. “Someone check. Quick. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen.”
Third Officer Jae-Ellen Rochford fell to her knees and leaned her ear to the Captain’s lips. Easing back, she shook her head. Tears flooded her eyes.
Twenty-four. Twenty-five.
The bridge became silent—too silent. Like a funeral parlor. Gunner jolted. Something else had stopped.
The engines.
This can’t be happening!
Thirty-eight. Thirty-nine. Forty. The three remaining staff stared at him, their eyes wide, their mouths open. Shock or dismay or disbelief had them rooted to the floor.
But there was something else.
Gunner’s heart thudded against his ribs. Realization slammed into him like a wrecking ball. With the Captain out of action, he was in charge of the ship.
Him . . . Gunner McCrae . . . Captain.
Fifty-three. Fifty-four. Fifty-five.
He wasn’t prepared. Far from it. This was his maiden voyage on Rose of the Sea.
I’ve only just been promoted to Staff Captain, for Christ’s sake.
He worked damn hard. But it wasn’t to rise up the ranks.
No. He worked hard to keep his mind off his guilt.
Sixty-six. Sixty-seven.
He was not worthy of this captaincy. Of any captaincy.
It should be someone else. Someone smarter. Braver. Someone more trustworthy.
It should be Captain Nelson.
“Check again,” he barked at Jae-Ellen.
She pushed her fingers under Nelson’s chin and shook her head. “No, sir. Still no pulse.”
“Where the hell’s the doctor?”
“I’ll go check.” Safety Officer Hastings bolted past Sheryl who stood with her squeegee in one hand, her other hand over her mouth and her bulging eyes glued to Captain Nelson.
A vise clamped around Gunner’s chest at what he saw over her shoulder. The sun was sinking. If an EMP strike had fried every electrical component on the ship, in less than one hour, they’d be in a total blackout.
Eighty-one. Eighty-two.
“Pauline, get the flashlights ready,” he ordered.
She spun on her heel and raced to the back of the bridge. Sykes returned his attention to the computers. Reynolds did too.
Gunner glanced at the consoles. Every one of them was blank, as if a giant harpoon had been shot through the entire bank of computers, obliterating their central cores. Sykes shifted from one to the next, flicking switches, bashing the keyboards. The Global Maritime Distress and Safety System was dead. All the navigational instruments were dead. Even the switchboard was dead.
They were at the mercy of the ocean.
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