The October Music, Stanza 2 - Day 23

Call the Ships to Port

            There is never a good time to receive the ‘all ships return immediately’ order from Command. It’s always, at best, a pain in the ass inflicted by an overreaction from one of the paranoid weather-watchers. The worst time, however, is when you are on Day 15 of a 30-day patrol and, therefore, as far away from port as possible. You can imagine our annoyance, then, when we got the call just as we were rotating to begin our return journey.

            The radio crackled to life with the standard ‘Order 1516 – All ships return to home base immediately’ command. I was about to pick up the radio and respond back with something likely a tad unprofessional when the second order came through.

            “Addendum 77 – Do not stop for other ships, stranded vessels, or other distractions. This is an order.”

            That caught me off-guard. Normally, an ‘all return’ command came with the implicit understanding that public service was acceptable reason for detouring. If a boat was off course, we would usually correct them. If a fishing vessel ran out of fuel, we would either provide them enough to get home or temporarily add them to our crew while towing them to safety. Being told in no uncertain terms to completely ignore others – especially with them labeled as ‘distractions’ – gave me a chill in the lower part of my spine.

            “Ship 329, reporting,” I said into the radio, “Please clarify Addendum 77 order.”

            “Ship 329, no clarification is required. Return to home port ASAP and do not stop. Just fucking listen.”

            I nearly dropped the mic in shock. Something was definitely going on now. Any pretense of normality had been abandoned. Whatever the order’s reason, it was extremely serious.

            “Copy. Everything okay, Command?”

            “Return immediately. Avoid distractions. I can’t be clearer than that. God help you.”

            With that, the line went dead. The ball of panic in my throat threatened to choke me. Instead, I swallowed it and bellowed for my crew to get the ship turned around and headed back to port on the double. I communicated in no uncertain terms that the journey that normally took fifteen days should take half that at the slowest. I heard the grumbles and complaints, but they hadn’t heard the shiver in Command’s voice. It hadn’t been anger or frustration – it was fear.

            So, we went. We went as fast as we could. Following directions, we did not stop when the stranded cruiser hailed us and then burst into purple flames as we passed. We did not stop for the dozens of civilians floating and fighting off sharks. We did not stop when the screeching of the radio nearly made our ears bleed with its constant screaming. We almost made it.

We’re a day away now. We’re all exhausted and hungry and want to rest. The ship is squealing from protest, but the order is clear: do not stop.
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            The skyscraper-sized tentacle rising from the sea in front of us, though, may be a problem.