Russell Moran: The Gray Ship

“We have a caller on line 3, Warrant Officer Phyllis Ozarin from Personnel. Fire away, Ma’am.”

“I’d like to ask Lieutenant Thurber if we can expect the same event that got us here, a bumping followed by bright daylight,” said Ozarin.

“All we have to go on is what happened before,” said Jack. “Whether we cross the portal in daylight or darkness is something I can’t predict. In April, we experienced that strange bumping sensation and then the Daylight Event . My guess is that we’ll feel it again, but it’s only a guess. I hate to be evasive, but there’s no book out there called Time Travel for Dummies . We can only take guesses based on the small amount of data that I’ve found in my research.”

“Caller on line 2, our very own favorite Chaplain, Father Rick Sampson. Talk to us Padre.” “Lieutenant Jack,” said Father Rick. “I’m going to be holding a special prayer service at 0730 every morning. Will you join me?”

“Count me in, Father. I’ll be there.”

“We have a special caller on line 3, the Commanding Officer of the California , Captain Ashley Patterson. Please go ahead, Captain.”

“I’d like to ask Lieutenant Thurber if he could share with the ship his personal thoughts on the last four months,” Ashley said.

“That’s a tough question, Captain, but I’ll give it a try,” Jack said. “I think, like everybody on the California , that the last four months have been a time of fear, sadness, fascination, and wonder. But my most intense thoughts on the last few months involve the friendships that I’ve made. Some of those friendships are very deep and I have no intention of ever letting go. Whatever happens, these friendships will last.”

Both Jack and Ashley knew that they were having a personal conversation on the ship’s TV. Ashley thought of saying I love you , but concluded that it would be too adult for this viewing audience.

“It’s a wrap, ladies and gentlemen, another Emmy Award quality show from the TV California,” Wally said. “Remember, the early bird gets the wormhole.” A collective groan was heard throughout the ship.

Lt. Cmdr. Frank Orzo has been the watch officer at Naval Operations at the Pentagon since midnight. He volunteered to extend his eight-hour watch because he thought it was important to have continuity in the search efforts for the California . Lieutenant Talierco, agreed to extend her watch as well. Orzo had served a lot of time at sea and had stood many watches as Officer of the Deck. Sometimes those watches could be emotionally draining. They were nothing compared to this.

Orzo and Talierco had been on emotional high alert for over seven hours, and they were beginning to feel it in their muscles. Warrant Officer John Chinnici, who worked in the physical therapy office at the Pentagon, walked into the room. He had orders from the Vice Chief of Naval Operations.

“Somebody tells me that massages are in order,” Chinnici said.

He first walked behind Orzo and said, “Just relax, Commander.” After five minutes of muscle manipulation, Orzo was grateful that this guy was on duty. Chinnici then went to Lieutenant Talierco and did the same.

At that moment, neither Orzo or Talierco had any more information than anyone else in the world about the USS California . But looking at a display screen and knowing that the California should be there brought on a special kind of stress.

Orzo went to visit the head. There’s something about taking a leak that seems to make things happen. If you’re in a restaurant waiting for your dinner to be served, going to the john is a great way to make your meal show up. Orzo realized that he was just playing mind games with himself, but there was little else to do.

Petty Officer Dirkson, one of the screen watchers said, “This is hopeless. This is fucking hopeless.”

“Secure that talk Sailor,” Orzo barked. “I can’t control what you people think, but I can goddamn well control what you say in this room. Stow the word ‘hopeless.’ ”

Everyone in the room knew that Orzo was right. The guy may be a pain in the ass, but he’s right. All they can control is their attitude, and it may as well be positive.

At the White House, Chief of Staff Bill Daley entered the Oval Office.

“Mr. President, the Coast Guard Sector Commander wants to know if we should convert the operation from Search and Rescue to just Search.

“No!” shouted Obama, smacking the desk. “Until further notice this is a Rescue operation. Any change will only be on my direct order.”

Obama knew that, of the many tasks of a Commander in Chief, one of them is to give the people hope.

Janet Sampson is at the beginning of a busy day. Besides being choir mistress at church, a job that took a surprising amount of time, she taught a few courses at a local community college. She has classes at 11 A.M., noon, and two more in the afternoon.

She’s glad that she’s busy because she is frantic about her husband Rick, the Chaplain of the California . Cancelling classes and sitting in front of the TV is a stupid option, Janet thought. Rick, a man she both loves and looks up to, had long ago convinced her of the power of surrendering to God things that you can’t control. “Give it up to God, Rick would say.” Still, the tension wrapped around her like a python. She thought of Rick, and of their mutual friend, Ashley Patterson. It’s in Ashley’s hands, and God’s, she thought.

The comedy writers for the Leno and the Letterman shows were having a tough morning, and so were the writers at Saturday Night Live . It’s an unbreakable rule of comedy that you can’t make jokes of a bad situation until the situation is resolved. Not only couldn’t they make humor of the California situation, they were wondering if they could write jokes about anything for the upcoming show. Like the days after 9/11, laughter was temporarily on hold.

Daytime TV anchors were earning their large salaries. “There’s nothing new to report” is not journalism, not entertainment, and not worth watching.

CNN’s Wolf Blitzer was interviewing yet another sea captain on the dangers of life on the ocean.

Fox News anchor Sheppard Smith interviewed people who had been lost and almost given up for dead. These segments were good, judging by the ratings, because viewers remember those days of waiting for miners to be rescued, a lost skier to be found, or a boy scout who got separated from his camp. All of these segments had one thing in common: hope. It’s what the country wants. It is also something the country is starting to lose.

Commander Hester, skipper of the Coast Guard Cutter Gallatin , pondered the old saying, “ignorance is bliss.” He wished he had some of that, some ignorance. But he didn’t, he had knowledge. He is an expert in sonar, and he knows the situation is hopeless. As a military commander he would never say that to anyone in his command, but he didn’t have to say it to himself. He had lost hope. He was just going through the motions. He awaits word from Washington, and he knows what the word will be: suspend operations. He just doesn’t know when the word will come.

As the Gallatin passed over the target coordinate one more time, he felt a rumbling, a slight bumping against the ship’s hull. The sky started to turn dark, as if a storm cloud suddenly rolled in. The bumping stopped, the sky brightened, and he thought the same thought that went through the minds of the entire crew: “What the hell was that?” He checked all systems. Satellites okay, radar okay, sonar okay. He put in a call to Washington. No problem with communication. He checked his email on his phone. He had just gotten a message. No problem.