P ART IV: Z ERO M OMENT
no doubt was. Corry took a deep breath, turning to the next task at hand. Seemed like there was a million things to do, and every single one of them was vying for space at the forefront of his mind. But the weather was calming fast, and though the waves were still high, at least visibility had increased. Only peripherally, he was aware that the sky was started to creep into light. Turning and walking to the opposite side, he helped one of the shell-shocked crewmembers of the Wildstorm down to the sheltered quarterdeck, where there were people who could help. Then he went back forwards. And then he nearly fainted. Standing on the deck, looking like he was about to drop from pure exhaustion, was Sean Kelley. Corry stepped forwards, more concerned than anything else. “The Queen Mary?” he asked, praying that the steel ship hadn’t met a fate similar to the Wildstorm. If she had... if she had, Corrigan was seriously going to consider that Someone had it in for him and his crew. Kelley shook his head, reeling, not able to find enough strength to answer in more than a word. “Safe.” Corrigan frowned, stepping over to support the other cadet. There would be time for the story later, and he was sure it would be one Hell of a story. But right now wasn’t the time to grill the half-frozen Kelley. A sense of fear gnawing deep in his gut, he led Sean back to the quarterdeck.
One step at a time, one breath at a time. The hull had taken a fair share of damage, not so much from the blast that Harrison had dealt, but from the pressure of the water building in the bilge. Where the caulking had been sprung, there were now two boards come loose from her bottom, and if he didn’t get the hull patched and the water pumped out, it would be a chain reaction. An exponential curve, and it was climbing. 271