fiction - brigits_flame - bump

[hwango]

After a great deal of careful thought and consideration, Petrov had decided that he hated the sea and everything in it, and that if he never saw another boat again for as long as he lived he could die a happy death.

Technically, he had been informed, he was currently sailing on a ship, and it was a grave insult to refer to it as a boat. Petrov had volunteered to call it anything they pleased if they would only find a way to get him to his destination sooner so he could get off the damned thing and never look back. This remark had not been well-received.

Petrov had been assured that there was no more reliable and skilled captain to be found anywhere in the world. He had been promised that the crew was perfectly competent, and that the boat or ship or whatever they wanted to call it was in excellent repair. He could not hope for a safer or more comfortable journey on any other vessel afloat. If all of these things were true, Petrov reflected, then traveling by sea was even at the best of times a completely insufferable experience to be endured only the foolish, the desperate, or those needing to be severely punished. The motion of the ship made him ill. The noises of the ship made it difficult to sleep. It stank. The crew viewed him with a certain poorly-disguised contempt. It was unbelievably boring.

The journey might possibly have been tolerable if only Dr. Flint had exhibited even a fraction of the misery that Petrov was experiencing. He was the only other passenger, after all, and so ought to be suffering just as Petrov was, if only out of solidarity. But no, Flint was all smiles, all cheerful waving at the crew - half of whom he seemed to know by name. The man spent hours at a time sitting on the deck watching the surf or reading. When not so engaged, he could be found sitting quietly in his cabin watching the surf or reading. For some inexplicable reason Petrov could not fathom, this relentless and unvarying tedium had utterly failed to drive Flint insane.

Petrov had, in desperation, once asked if he might borrow one of Flint's books. The man had agreed readily enough, even launching into an enthusiastic speech about the tomes that he had brought with him, pondering aloud which one Petrov might find the most enjoyable. In the end it made little difference. Every single one of them turned out to be about plants, and the books somehow managed to be even more boring and tedious than the unchanging view from the deck of the ship – a feat which Petrov would previously have believed to be impossible.

Petrov stared into darkness and found himself wishing that there was at least something to look at, but the moon was absent that night, and it seemed to him that the darkness was nearly absolute. Gradually, however, Petrov became aware of an ethereal blue glow in the water around the ship. Where a less bitter man would have experienced wonder or amazement at this new development, or at least felt that their wish had been granted, Petrov instead felt as if the final straw was being added to an already overburdened camel's back.

"What new horror is this?" he muttered. To his further dismay, he heard approaching footsteps. Could he not at least suffer in solitude?

"Good evening, sir," said his unwelcome companion. Petrov unconsciously clenched his fists as he realized that it was Flint. "What a marvelous evening!" Flint said, earning him a truly venomous glare from Petrov that remained mostly hidden by the gloom.

Flint stepped up to the railing next to Petrov and leaned over the side. Petrov experienced a great surge of pride in his self-restraint when he didn't even consider taking the opportunity to heave the man overboard.

"Oh my, how lovely!" Flint said, his smile illuminated by the gentle blue light.

"Lovely?!" Petrov spat, "It's probably something horrible."

"Nonsense! Nothing to worry about at all. It's merely bioluminescent phytoplankton."

A conspicuous silence followed.

"Tiny plants that produce their own light," Flint said.

"Fascinating," Petrov said without a trace of sincerity.

"Isn't it?" Flint said.

Petrov realized that Flint wasn't oblivious, he was just too polite to do anything other than gloss over Petrov's obvious rancor. Petrov seethed.

The deck heaved suddenly and briefly. Petrov stumbled and fell, while to Petrov's great annoyance and total lack of surprise Flint kept his feet without any apparent difficultly.

"And what was that?" Petrov asked accusingly. "Certainly it wasn't your precious plankton."

"Perhaps a whale bumped into us," Flint said. He seemed remarkably unconcerned, and continued to be so even when the ship jolted a second time.

Sailors could now be heard calling to one another and running about on the deck. One of them ran up to where Flint was standing. The sailor leaned over the side, spotted the blue glow, and looked terrified.

"Dear God, we've wandered into a patch of Harbinger Blue! Who's on lookout?" He turned to Flint and then Petrov. "Why in God's name didn't either of you say something?!" he shouted at the pair of them, and then ran off to shout some more at someone else.

Long, sinuous shapes could now be seen sliding through the tiny glowing plants. Something large was definitely bumping into the ship, repeatedly and with growing force and frequency. The cries of alarm from the crew began to take on a hint of despair.

Petrov's feelings of vindication fought savagely with his sense of self-preservation. Certainly if the ship were dragged under and all of them were killed he would be entitled to a truly epic "I told you so." On the other hand, it would be nice to survive this.

A long, barbed tentacle snaked out of water and dragged itself across the railing, scoring the wood deeply as it passed. Flint had produced a small notebook from somewhere about his person and appeared to be jotting down some notes. Petrov felt with utter certainty that if they all died today that Flint's last words would be "Well, that was interesting." He'd probably be smiling when he said them.

On the other side of the ship an enormous harpoon was launched into the water. The tentacle on their side jerked suddenly and tore a chunk of wood as long as a man's arm from the railing, and then it slipped back below the waves. The ship gave one last lurch and then steadied in the water. A cheer went up among the crew.

"Well done, Captain Saunders!" Flint called into the crowd of men with a wave. "Well," he said, turning to Petrov, "that was certainly exciting, eh? Trip had been rather dull up until now, don't you think? When things have calmed down I really must ask the men about whatever that was. I wasn't aware there were any large creatures in this part of the world that were especially attracted by the luminescent dinoflagellates. Might be a paper in there somewhere." With another cheery wave he wandered off back to his cabin.

Petrov redoubled his convictions regarding ocean travel. He did, however, reconsider his stance on boredom.