Grant made his way to the mess hall of the ship. Of all the travel options available to mankind, traveling by sea on a large ship was still the msopt comfortable. It offered the most space and luxury. No train or plane could match the level of service that the world's finest cruise ship could offer.

The Salvation was no cruise ship but it still had that freedom of movement and space that a plane or train didn’t have. Grant’s nose detected a faint whiff of food as he stepped into the mess hall. Already a few dozen men and women were noisily eating in the room, seated at tables installed into the floor.

Grant walked past the tables and up to the cafeteria style service counter. A few men in aprons and hats were busying themselves in the kitchen. A muscular kitchen staff member with a tattoo on his neck stepped up to the counter and picked up a large serving spoon.The food on the heated trays looked pretty delicious. Fragrant pulled pork sat on a thin pond on its own juices. The mashed potatoes looked creamy and smooth unlike the type found in tv dinners and the green beans though somewhat discolored were still appealing to the senses.

“Thanks,” Grant said with a smile as the man handed him a full plate.

After grabbing a fork from the utensils station, Grant searched the tables until he found where the anthropology students were sitting. They seemed to be in the middle of a conversation on prehistoric humans.

“You know the gigantopithecus was once considered to be ancestors to hominids, before it was labeled a close relative of the orangutan, perhaps even its direct ancestor. Wouldn’t it be exciting to see one? Professor Hawkins calls it the real King Kong.”

“No no,” said Townsend to Amanda. “Gigantopithecus is a species native to the east. We wouldn’t find any of them here in the northwest..”

Amanda shook her head and stirred her mashed potatoes. “Then what about the supposed sighting of an argentavis? That supposedly extinct bird comes from South America. There are unnatural forces at play here. Anything is possible.”

“Could have just been a lost California Condor or a sub species of Teratornis.”

“Guys guys,” said Shreya, glancing at both of them in amusement. “Forget the birds and the apes, we could be dancing an opportunity to study a prehistoric civilization first hand. Mammoth hunters and modern day humans separated by thousands, maybe even millions of years are about to share a handshake.”

“We will be gods to them,” said Kevin quietly. “Of course if the extraterrestrial or interdimensional theory holds up...then, well it could be the other way around.”

The table fell quiet. Grant suddenly felt glad that they were travelling with a large team of heavily armed mercenaries.

“Guys let’s not entertain wild stories and theories for now,” said Shreya, half laughing. “We will be making history no matter what we find.”

“I can just imagine peoples faces when they see me taking a picture with a mammoth,” said Townsend, before taking a bite of his pulled pork. “My friend Joseph is going to be so jealous. While he’s writing papers at school I’m riding mastodons.”

The others laughed.

An hour after dinner Grant stepped into the men’s shower area.. Several nozzles hung from the walls and a few men were already there including Murphy. Grant had to admit the anthropology major boasted an impressive body. His pecs thrust out and his veins popped out on his arms. Grant took the towel that covered his lower body and hung it on a hook in the adjacent changing room.

Grant turned up the hot water on a shower across from Murphy. The mercenaries stepped out as Grant began applying a bar of soap, leaving him alone with Murphy. As Grant moved on to apply shampoo to his hair he became aware of Murphy's gaze, which made him feel weirded out.

“Something on me?” Grant asked as rubbed shampoo into his hair.

“I've seen the way Shelley looks at you,” said Murphy. “I just wanted to talk to you man to man about that.”

Oh boy Grant thought. Here we go.

“Shelley is my girl,” said Murphy. “We like each other and I plan to officially make her my girlfriend soon. I was going to ask her on this trip.”

“There isn’t really anything between us,” said Grant, trying to sound as dismissive and calm as possible. “She’s probably just another fan of the stories concerning my escapades.”

“I overheard you guys talking in the middle of the night back at the warehouse,” said Murphy, the level of anger in his voice rising. “What were you two talking about?”

“Look it was just small talk,” said Grant. He needed to defuse what was in his mind a pointless fight. He had no interest in engaging this man. “Christ Murphy, we all just met and now you're picking beef with me?”

“Yeah I’m picking beef with you,” said Murphy. “Cause you've been cozying up with my girl!”

“Wait I thought you said she wasn’t your girl yet,” said Grant. He instantly regretted his snarky reply because it only seemed to make Murphy even angrier.

Grant turned away and quickly washed the shampoo out of his hair. He wanted to be out of the shower as soon as possible.

“We aren’t done talking!”

To Grant’s surprise and shock, he felt Murphy’s hand slap down on his shoulder.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” said Grant, turnign to face him.. “We can talk but don’t touch me like that.”

Murphy’s haymaker punch was sloppy and slow, which Grant dodged easily by moving to the side. Grant countered with a harsh kick to the abdomen which made Murphy double over in double, clutching his belly. Grant finished with a swift straight punch to the nose which made Murphy lose his balance. The big man slipped and fell with a yelp. Even Grant winced when he saw Murphy fall hard on the wet floor.

Grant almost felt sorry seeing Murphy in such a humiliating position, naked and moaning on the floor in pain.

“I’m sorry,” said Grant simply and left to get dressed. “I hope that we can learn to work together eventually.”

Grant dried himself and dressed quickly. As he left the changing room he was startled by a mercenary in grey camo with a pistol strapped to his leg. “Mr. Foreman I need you to come with me.”

The man’s tone told Grant that something serious had happened, and it obviously wasn’t Murphy lying on the floor in the shower.

“Ok,” said Grant quietly, and followed the mercenary through the ship and all the way down to the cargo hold where a handful of mercenaries in tactical gear were standing over someone. A man with short blonde hair, lay on the floor between two off road SUVs. One look was all Grant needed to know that he was dead. His white t-shirt was wet with the blood from a wound that lay his neck open. His cargo pants were splattered with blood as well.

“Captain’s already been informed,” said the mercenary who led Grant. “He wants to talk to you next. We wanted you to see this and get your thoughts.”

Grant felt a something catch in his throat and all eyes turned to him expectantly.

“Someone doesn’t want us to be on this expedition,” said Grant. “And this someone is on this ship.”

“There could be multiple hostiles,” said a mercenary sporting a shotgun.

“Right,” said Grant quietly. “Look, if you don’t mind I’d like this to stay between the security team, the officers, captain, and myself. I don’t want our friends from theu university knowing for now.”

“We won’t say a word to them,” said a mercenary with a thick beard. “No point spooking them. Captain will want everyone moving in groups now throughout the ship. What a pain in the ass this is.”

“Mr. Foreman if you will follow me to the captain’s quarters,” said the mercenary who had brought Grant to the cargo hold.

Grant took one last look at the dead man before turning to leave. He could hear the others spreading out a covering for the body.

Captain Anthony Westing was an aging but strong looking man of medium height. His white hair was presented in a buzzcut and his face as hard as his muscles which stretched out his green long sleeve shirt. Grant was sure the captain was very handsome in his youth.

Despite the grim subject of the conversation Grant was about to have with the captain he was somewhat at ease in the homey private quarters of the captain. The walls were made of wood to make the place resemble a cabin or a cottage. The floor was carpeted and the air nicely warmed up by a heater. It was a most professional looking yet comfortingly intimate living space.

“The body will be flown back to land by helicopter,” said the captain to Grant. “We will slow our speed to allow it to return. This is not a good start to our voyage would you agree?”

“Obviously sir,” said Grant. “I was afraid you would insist that we turn back.”

“If we did this assassin would win,” said Captain Westing. “Clearly he wants to strike fear in us but it won’t work on my crew. From now on no one gets up in the middle of the night to go take a piss alone. Now one moves or breathes without some else watching. That goes for you too I’m afraid Mr. Foreman. I understand you don’t want your friends to be scared but I gotta put a watch on them too.”

“It won’t be a problem,” said Grant. “I understand that losing a crewman like that is upsetting.”

“You're goddamn right it is,” said the captain coldly. “Just wait till I get my hands on that son of a bitch. We will proceed as planned with the expedition. However the crew will be more on edge.”

“Yes sir,” said Grant. “Stay safe captain.”

Later in the night as Grant prepared the bed for his first night on the ship a knock came at the door. Grant hesitated to open it and his eyes flicked to the locker beside the desk where his weapon was stored.

“Who is it?” Grant demanded.

“Shelley,” said a gentle voice.

“Oh,” said Grant, and stood up to open the door.

Shelley was wearing tight fitting grey sweatpants and a matching loose button down t shirt. She stepped inside without asking and folded her arms. Grant quickly shut the door.

“Uh, is there a guard outside?” Grant asked.

Shelley frowned. “Why would there be?”

Grant shook his head. The new security protocols had not been put into full swing yet. “Never mind. So what’s up?”

“Murphy told us you attacked him in the shower. We had a hard time believing him but he seemed hurt and quite upset over it.”

“Ok for the record he started it,” said Grant. “I was minding my own business just taking a shower and this guy starts a heated conversation. Of all the places…”

“What did you two talk about?” said Shelley, raising an eyebrow.

“He was mad that I spoke to you in private back at the warehouse. He considered you and him an item.”

Shelley let out a laugh. “Well I guess I was always aware that our friendship would eventually go down that path but no, at the moment we are not an item.”

“He said to me that you were his girl.”

“No one claims me,” said Shelley firmly. “Not right now. Though I am a little flattered at the idea of two men having a nude brawl in the shower over me.”

“It wasn’t funny,” saud Grant, frowning. “Not one bit. He was mad because you looked at me in some way or whatever. I never saw anything like that. People look at other people all the time. Tell him he needs to chill and I have no interest in being his enemy.”

Shelley grinned impishly. “Well it’s going to take some time for him to warm up to you, that’s for damn sure.”

She stepped up and placed her hands on Grant’s chest. “But as for me…”

Grant had to admit he could use decent company in the moment. A man had just been murdered, a young man, whose life had been born and raised, educated and worked only to die so pitifully. The tragedy was difficult to stomach and even more difficult to put into words. Grant could not put the depressing thoughts out of his head even if Shelley kissing his lips and unbuttoning her shirt.

“Uh listen Shelley, maybe we should do this some other time,” said Grant. “I’m a little tired. In fact, maybe we should avoid this sort of thing for the rest of the journey to the Aleutian Islands ok?”

Shelley gave him a look of confusion and amusement. “What’s wrong?”

“I said I was tired.”

“Yes I heard you but it seems to be more than that. Is it Murphy?”

Grant almost wanted to roll his eyes. He wasn’t sensitive enough to a pseudo macho man like Murphy get to him.

“No it’s not Murphy,” said Grant. He wanted to avoid telling his fellow university students about the man that was found with his throat slit in the cargo hold. He scrambled to think of a reasonable explanation for kicking her out. “Uh, don’t you think your friends would feel uncomfortable knowing that we were fooling around behind their backs and behind closed doors?”

“People should know when to and when not to butt into people’s business.”

“Riighhtt,” said Grant, feeling a little frustrated. “I am pretty tired though. Maybe we could just watch a movie or something on my bed? I got a handful of good movies on my laptop.”

Shelley blinked. “Movies?! I guess you weren’t kidding about being tired, if you can resist my feminine charms in the privacy of this room.”

Grant quickly took out his laptop from his backpack and lay down on the bed before Shelley could suggest anything alternative activities. The mattress was surprisingly comfortable though the pillow smelled old. Shelley positioned herself beside Grant, making him feel a little crowded but warmer.

“How about Lord of the Rings? Grant asked.

“Ooo, I love that trilogy,” said Shelley.

“Uh I actually meant the 1978 animated version,” said Grant. “It’s a bit late to watch the three hour Jackson movie.”

Shelley made a face. “I didn’t know there was an animated adaptation. Well ok I love Tolkien. Finished The Silmarillion recently.”

The fact that the girl was into Tolkien was enough to make Grant’s chest race.

“Do you think they’ll make documentary films out of our expedition?” Shelley asked. “One day people will be watching our story, our islands just like we are now?”

Grant had to admit that sounded good. “Yeah they sure will. Shreya thinks this discovery will rock the world.” He opened the video file that was the animated film and adjusted his position on the bed slightly to be more comfortable.

As the two of them watch the film, Shelley frequently commented on how she never thought cartoons could be so dark and creepy. Grant explained to her that cartoons were simply a medium and that they could be anything they wanted to be. He voiced his disdain for the children only animated film industry in the States.

About forty minutes into the film, Grant noticed that Shelley had begun to nod off and put away the laptop.

“Hey you should head back,” said Grant. “Go back to your room.”

“Mmm,” said Shelley sleepily. Her every body language told Grant that she had every intention of sleeping where she was.

“Well alright then,” said Grant. “If you insist on taking up so much room you better make up for it by behaving at the very least. I swear, if you drool…”

Shelley’s head abruptly came up and he felt her kiss him in a flash. As her head landed back on the pillow she produced a grin, her eyes still closed. Grant lay down beside her and slipped his hand underneath the unfasted buttons of her shirt and felt her breast.

That night he dreamed of being awoken by the feeling of someone taking off his pants. Grant tried to resist but found that he was paralyzed. Raw panic seized him as he became aware of a man with a crude black mask wrapped around his head holding a knife over his legs and exposed man parts.

“Help someone!” Grant tried to say. He did not want to end up like the man in the cargo hold or worse. He would not.

Just as he felt the chilling sensation of his flesh being carved open, he awoke with a mild headache. The room was still lit as it was when he fell asleep and Shelley was still beside him looking serene. With a groan Grant got up and shut the lights before heading back to bed. He fell asleep a second time looking into Shelley’s peaceful and pretty face, trying to fill his mind with more pleasant thoughts.