Matt Hlinak - DoG

“The difference is that I set out to do a month, not two weeks. The goal doesn’t matter, but once the goal is set, I need to achieve it. Since I can’t do a month at sea, I need to do something else.”

“Okay, but why do have to steal this thing from the Captain? Why don’t you pick some other stupid scheme that won’t get you shot? Hell, we can get on another ship, and then you go prove how tough you are to some other crew.”

“It’s not about proving anything to the crew. This is about me. Stealing the orb from the Captain is what popped in my head, and I can’t forget it now. The fact that it’s so hard tells me I’m on the right track. It’s got to be something big — this is like the Labors of Heracles.”

“The what?”

“Never mind. Just help me figure out how to do this.”

“I told you, you’re on your own here. I can’t get mixed up in this.”

“I’m not asking you to help me steal it. Just help me figure out how I can steal it.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Frank asked. “I don’t know where it is. I don’t know how you’re going to slip onto the bridge without the Captain shooting you full of holes.”

“I know that,” Culann replied. “I need you to help me figure out how to get Gus to help me.”

I’ve had some time—a lot of time, actually—to think about all of the choices I made that led me to my current predicament. Stealing the orb is pretty high on the list.

For one thing, it was really out of character for me. This is why Frank had such a hard time figuring out why I was doing it. He was the adventure-seeker. I was generally more concerned about my own comfort.

This isn’t entirely true, though. In stealing the orb, I acted on an impulse. To the extent I even considered the consequences, I underestimated them. (Although there was of course no way I could have foreseen what happened, I should have known something bad would happen.) It was this type of behavior that got me exiled to Alaska in the first place.

So maybe all of my bad choices were part of one big character flaw. I suppose this should be reassuring, since it means I can become a decent human being by just fixing that one flaw. I just hope that flaw is not too big to fix.

And that I have enough time left to fix it.

Enlisting Gus’s aid proved less challenging than they’d thought. The old man wouldn’t help them steal the orb, of course, and they were pretty sure he’d rat them out if he found out what they were up to. But as long as he didn’t know they were planning to steal the orb, he’d have no reason to consider its whereabouts privileged information. It was simply a matter of striking up a conversation and eliciting the necessary information.

This is where Frank came in. Gus had spent the last seventeen days abusing Culann, so Culann had been doing his best to avoid the first mate, even when off the clock. He couldn’t now plop down next to Gus and start shooting the breeze without arousing suspicion. But Frank had earned the man’s respect—or at least tolerance—and it wouldn’t be out of character for him to chat with Gus.

At breakfast on their last day at sea, Gus sat alone at the end of one of the long, cafeteria-style tables in the mess. He normally ate with the other old-timers, but on this day he bore the brunt of the crew’s anger against the Captain. He responded to the ostracism with uncharacteristic good cheer. He smiled at nothing and made a great show of savoring his thirty-fourth straight serving of fresh-caught cod. It looked to Culann like the old man was working hard to show how little the crew’s ire bothered him.

“They leave you alone?” Frank said with his own forced smile as he sat down across from Gus. “Must be the smell.”

“You’re not exactly a perfume ad yourself, smartass,” Gus replied. His posture relaxed, and he allowed his artificial smile to fade into his usual scowl.

“What about you, greenhorn?” he asked Culann, who hovered in mock nervousness above his cousin. “You gonna eat with me, or you giving me the cold shoulder, too?”

“Come on, cuz,” Frank said, “he won’t bite.”

Culann tried to project an air of surrender as he sat down next to his cousin.

“So it looks like you’re getting off easy,” Gus said to Culann.

“I was just getting the hang of things when the Captain called it off. I could have gone another couple of weeks.”

“I guess we’ll never know,” Gus replied.

“What do you think, Gus?” Frank asked. “Why do you think we’re going home?”

“No clue.”

“McGillicuddy thinks it’s the orb,” Frank continued.

“The what?” Gus responded.

“That weird ball Culann fished out.”

“Why didn’t you just say that?”

“Fine,” Frank said. “Do you think the weird ball has anything to do with why we’re heading home?”

“Maybe.”

“What did the Captain say about it when you brought it to him?”

“He didn’t say anything. First he sent me out to see what you dickheads were gawking at. I got standing orders to bring anything unusual we find straight to him. When I brought it back to him, he just said, ‘Let me see that.’ So I gave it to him.”

“What did he do with it?”

“He just looked at it for a while and rubbed his fingers over the writing. Looked to me like he was just trying to figure out what the hell it was, just like you idiots were.”

“You think he’s gonna keep it?”

“Looks like it. I saw him stuff it in a backpack under his bed.”

“Where’s his bed?” Frank asked.

Gus shot him a perplexed look. Culann bit his lip. They had all the information they needed, and now Frank was coming on too strong.

“What’s with all the questions?” Gus asked.

“Nothing, it’s just…” Frank’s voice trailed off.

“We’re just curious,” Culann interjected. “Aren’t you? We all think the orb is the reason we’re going home and we’d love to know just what it is.”

“What’s this got to do with me?”

“Could you ask the Captain for us?” Culann asked with the most naïve expression he could muster.

Gus burst out laughing. Frank supplied a laugh of his own, a little wooden for Culann’s taste, but Gus seemed to buy it.

“Go ask him yourself,” Gus said with a grin. “I dare you to go knock on the cabin door right now and ask him.”

“I tried telling him, Gus,” Frank said with a wooden smile. “But you know how those college boys are. They gotta know the answer to everything.”

“Kid, there’s some things you’re just better off not knowing.”

Culann and Frank were topside, leaning against the rail at the bow. The waves came short and choppy from the east, slowing the ship’s progress. A haze of clouds obscured the sun and cooled the air. A few miles out, lightning bit down on the horizon.

They only had a few hours until they hit port.

“How do you think this is going to play out?” Culann asked.

“Beats me,” Frank replied.

“Do you think Worner and McGillicuddy will help us?” Culann asked.

“Why not? I’m sure they’d love to see you get your head blown off.”

“Okay, but what about the cannonball? Do you think he’ll let us have it?”

“Ah, that’s going to have to be handled just right.”

The two headed down to the mess. McGillicuddy and Worner sat together at a table, sharing a can of concentrated orange juice. A few other anglers played poker at another table. It was odd for Culann to see the crew gone idle. The frenetic pace of the past two-and-a-half weeks had seemed an immutable aspect of the Orthrus .