From Below

by Darcy Coates

Phillip flicked a switch to put himself online as he leaned over his desk. “This is the RMS Margaret, Communications Officer Bowden. What’s your situation?” It was only after he spoke that Phillip realized there had been something…off about the voice. Communications personnel were known for being forthright to the point of bluntness. They spoke clearly and quickly, relaying messages with minimal excess words. They had to. Every ship shared the same handful of frequencies; to spend excess time hemming and hawing over your message meant you were potentially blocking other more important communications from getting through. But that voice—the pan-pan voice—had been slow. Breathy. As though it had been starved of oxygen. As though the speaker was fighting to stay awake. Phillip had an awful squeezing moment of terror. How long had he been asleep? How long had the unknown caller been breathing into his ear, waiting for an answer? Hours? It came again, and this time, there was a real undercurrent of terror to the words. “Pan-pan.” “I hear you. This is the RMS Margaret. Please state your name and position.” There was a very long pause. Second Officer Forster had turned from his post at the bow to watch with dark eyes. Phillip didn’t like the tilt to the officer’s jaw. It was as