Chapter 29
River
One second, I’m nibbling on Cleo’s earlobe and the next I’m launching myself out of bed, frantically pulling on my nasty gym gear as the ship’s siren blares and we’re dropped into a sea of red light.
The timing is unbelievable! Captain Morley has always liked to spring emergency training on us, but really, why now? Not only have I got to leave Cleo post-amazing and life-altering sex session, but I’ve somehow got to get to my action station without being caught sneaking out of Cleo’s cabin.
My brain is too sex-addled to even contemplate devising a lie, and I know I’ll have that freshly-shagged glow about me, so…long story short, I’m in a heap of shit.
“What the hell is going on?” Cleo shouts. I’ve forgotten entirely that she’ll have no idea this is an exercise. Halting my attempt at hoisting up my shorts, I place both hands on her shoulder.
“Just a training exercise, it’s not real.”
“Right, okay,” she answers, still looking mildly panicked.
“I really need to go, Cleo. Jesus, this is the worst bastard timing,” I grumble, which at least pulls a smile from her.
“Could be worse,” she says, eyes twinkling.
“How the hell could this be worse timing?”
“We could have been in the shower.”
Despite the adrenaline coursing through me, I bark out a laugh. “Don’t tempt fate, Carter.”
“Take a breath,” she begins, “you need a calm head on your shoulders, okay?”
Sucking in a lungful of air, I set about dressing and pulling my hair into a bun. At least I can explain part of my overall look as a hard session in the gym.
The siren continues to blare, but I’m finding it difficult to tear myself away from her. Sensing my sappy inner turmoil, Cleo leans up and kisses me tenderly.
“We’ll talk later,” she says in my ear.
Nodding, I back away and fumble for the door handle. The next few minutes are going to determine if I get hauled in front of the captain or not. If I can avoid Benson or Grey I’ll be fine. Every other crew member will be too focused on the drill to give a shit about me.
I step out of her cabin with as much false confidence as I can muster.
There are sailors running in every direction trying to get to their allocated station.
My action station is on fire duty. If there is an emergency that doesn’t require my skill as weapons engineer, I automatically become one of the ship’s fire crew.
Happy I’m not about to be accosted by anyone, I set off at a run. As luck would have it, I’m closer to the area of the ship I need to be than if I were coming from my bunk.
Kit, Cheddar and Boot are already donning their fire protection gear. They acknowledge me but don’t speak. It’s not the time. We have to treat this as if it were a genuine emergency.
The captain’s voice echoes over the ship’s loudspeaker. “Action stations, please. This is not a drill.”
Well, fuck. I spoke to soon.
My mind snaps to Cleo. Is she scared? Is she wondering if I’m okay?
Focus, River. Focus.
“River! Watch your left!” Kit shouts.
I snap back to attention just in time to move out of the way of a crew member barrelling past. I need to focus. Cleo needs me to focus. If I get hurt because I’m distracted she’ll never forgive me. I’ll never forgive myself.
Fuck, I should have told her to tag along with me…no, on second thought I want her as far away from danger as possible.
“I need to get Cleo somewhere safe,” I call to the others. “She’s my responsibility.”
“Go, make sure she’s good and then get your arse—”
“Fire, fire, fire. All fire crew to the starboard propulsion room.”
“Go,” I scream. The propulsion system falls under our zone, therefore, it’s our responsibility to get it under control and extinguished.
Kit and the gang leg it towards the propulsion room.
If there is a significant fire it could disable the ship.
There are two propulsion rooms aboard with two shafts that power the ship through the water.
If one breaks, we could be looking at a serious case of sitting duck syndrome.
Which isn’t the end of the world. Aircraft carriers never leave home alone, and HMS Queen Elizabeth has a flotilla of five other ships escorting us.
But still, we would be seriously compromised, so this fire needs dealing with immediately.
My legs carry me as fast as safely possible towards Cleo’s cabin. I don’t knock, but barge straight in. Cleo is sitting at her desk, clutching her notepad to her chest, looking sick with worry.
“Let’s go,” I shout. She doesn’t waste time with questions but follows along behind me. I take us to the bridge, because if there’s one place she’ll be safe it’s with the captain.
“Captain,” I call, snagging the attention of everyone within hearing range. “I think it’s best if Ms Carter remains here with you. I need to get to the propulsion room.”
Captain Morley nods at me and beckons Cleo over to her. I want to grab her hand and pull her close. Whisper in her ear that everything will be just fine, but we have to settle with a quick glance.
Cleo catches my eye, and I raise my eyebrows slightly—our signal for “I’ve got this, don’t worry.” She rolls her eyes at me, the tiniest smile playing at her lips, and mouths, “Go.”
I grin despite the chaos and turn on my heel to race to the propulsion room.
I can see smoke billowing from the entry hatch before I even reach it. The heat hits me like a wall, and I have to squint against the brightness of the flames. The electrical unit is completely engulfed, sparks flying everywhere as the fire consumes the wiring.
The alarm is still blaring, adding to the chaos. My ears are ringing. My heart is pounding. The smell of burning electronics and melting plastic fills my nostrils, making my eyes water even behind my protective gear.
This is bad. This is really bad.
“Status!” I shout to the team.
“Pressure’s holding on the main line,” Kit calls back, her voice muffled by her breathing apparatus, “but we need to get that secondary unit offline or it’ll spread to the port shaft.”
Fuck. If both shafts go down we’re dead in the water.
“Right, listen up!” I shout. “Kit, you take the main line and keep the pressure steady. Boot, get that secondary unit offline—now. Cheddar, I need you on the CO2 line. We’re going to smother this bastard before it spreads.”
Everyone moves without hesitation. We’ve drilled this scenario a hundred times, but it never feels real until you’re standing in front of an actual fire.
Kit positions herself at the main valve, her movements precise and practiced. Boot scrambles toward the electrical panel, sweat already pouring down her face. Cheddar readies the foam dispenser, her jaw set with concentration.
I grab the secondary hose and move closer to the flames. The heat is intense, almost unbearable even through my protective gear. My gloves are already slick with sweat.
“CO2, now!” I shout.
Cheddar releases the gas, and it cascades over the flames. The fire dims as it suffocates, but it doesn’t go out. Not yet.
“Again!” I yell.
Another wave of CO2. The flames are smaller now, but still burning. My arms ache as I angle the hose, trying to reach the heart of the fire.
“Come on, come on,” I mutter, more to myself than anyone else.
We’re making progress. The flames are smaller, more manageable. But then the electrical unit sparks violently, and a shower of sparks rains down on us.
“Shit!” Boot yells, jumping back as a spark hits her shoulder.
“Everyone back!” I shout. “Get clear!”
We all scramble backward, giving the fire more space. My mind is racing. If the unit explodes, the whole propulsion room could go up. We could lose both shafts. We could lose the ship.
We could lose everything.
“Secondary line, now!” I command. “We need to cool that unit down before it ruptures.”
Kit and Cheddar move in sync, their movements practiced and precise. The secondary line activates, and a cloud of gas hits the electrical unit. The temperature drops, the sparks stop, and finally—finally—the flames begin to die.
Five more minutes of steady pressure, and the fire is out.
My legs feel like jelly. My hands are shaking. But we did it. We actually did it.
There will be an investigation, and we’ll have to do a full sweep of the ship to make sure there are no other problems, but at least we’re out of the woods for now.
Back at the fire equipment storage area, we all stand in stunned silence for a moment, still processing what just happened. We’re covered in soot and ash, our protective gear almost fully black from the smoke.
“That was too close,” Boot says, her voice shaky.
“Way too close,” Cheddar agrees.
Kit is already checking everyone over, making sure no one got hurt. “Everyone okay? Any injuries?”
We all shake our heads. Miraculously, we’re all fine.
“Good work out there,” I say, looking at each of them. “You were all brilliant. Really brilliant.”
Kit gives me a tight smile. “You too, boss. You kept your head when things got hairy.”
If only she knew. My head was anywhere but on that fire for half of it.
We’ll smell like smoke for a few days, that’s for sure.
The ship remains in a state of emergency, meaning no showers for us.
No one can leave their post until the all clear is given.
Captain Morley had us remain in action stations for over forty-eight hours once.
I really hope we don’t have to repeat that.
I feel antsy not being able to check on Cleo. Fuck, I wish I had my phone on me.
Cheddar cuffs me on the shoulder, gesturing me to follow. “Captain wants a debrief. Thought you’d like to come along.”
I grit my teeth to stop the wave of emotion I’m feeling from cresting over the top.
Her offer means more than she knows. I fist bump her and follow behind.
There are still sailors moving from one place to the other, so we stay single file until we reach the bridge.
The ship is still on high alert, but everyone seems a tad more relaxed now the fire is out.