The X Files: Titanix

Chapter 4

4.

North Atlantic.
Area of 44 degrees 28 minutes North, 30 degrees West.

'Titanic dead ahead, Agent Mulder!'

Mulder stared forward out of the windshield over the pilot's shoulder and saw the cause of the man's excitement. A glow of light and a smudge just below the horizon, followed by the tiny vee of white water that marked her wake.

'How far?'

'Ten, maybe twelve miles.' the pilot replied vaguely. 'I expect they'll holler over their radio before long, they must have had us on their radar for the last ten minutes or so.'

Mulder leaned further forwards to get a better look at the famous ship as they closed the distance. Fascinated, he watched as the tiny smudge drew nearer, growing in size and detail. Much of the sea was still in deep shadow yet Titanic, brightly lit from bow to stern, stood out like a beacon on the dark surface, a thinning plume of heat haze rolling lazily from the top of her third funnel, carried away by the same early morning breeze that fluttered the pennant atop the modern radar foremast on the roof of the bridge.

'Hey Bud,' The pilot looked over his shoulder towards the loadmaster who had squeezed into the cockpit just behind Mulder. 'You need to get a photo of this sucker when we're done. The Ice Patrol was founded after what happened to the old Titanic. Kinda neat we're meeting up at sea with the new one!'

'You might want to hold on, sir,' the co-pilot turned to Mulder. 'We're about to slow down and start our descent.'

With that, the co-pilot eased the control column over, putting the HC-130J into a banked descent several miles to the southwest of Titanic's position.

Glad Scully hadn't overhead the pilot's glib remark about getting a souvenir photograph as a memento, Mulder's thoughts turned to what they might find on the ship.

*

'I heard faint aircraft engine noise dead ahead,' the Junior Second Officer, who had been standing out on the boat deck, reported as he re-entered the bridge through the starboard door. 'I estimate three to five miles distant and holding.'

'More characterful systems glitches,' McCallister, who had been alternately studying the sky ahead with her binoculars and watching the aviation radar for signs of the plane, sighed heavily as she considered asking the Chief Engineer to service the temperamental unit with a large mallet the next time he was on the bridge. 'Alright. All stop. Keep the engine room on standby. Music off please.'

Harry Belafonte's Banana Boat (Day-O) which had been playing softly in the background was silenced mid-chorus as the telegraphs pinged their acknowledgement of the order to stop the propulsion motors. Kate positioned herself in the port-side doorway to the outside deck, taking a moment to enjoy the fresh early morning salt air as she waited for the ship to lose her headway. The morning chill cut sharply through her uniform shirt, and she turned and collected her jacket off the back of her chair in the cockpit before returning to the doorway.

Presently, the second officer called out to her. 'Reporting all stop, Captain.'

McCallister waved acknowledgement and brought her portable radio to her lips as she walked over to the rail. 'This is the bridge. Rescue boat stations. Rescue boat stations. You are clear to lower away. I repeat. Clear to lower away.'

Looking over the side at the boom of the rescue boat crane protruding from the ship several decks below her she realised, as she watched the boat slide down to the water, that she was the first to order lifeboats lowered from the Titanic at sea in quite some time. It was an eerie thought, and she didn't really like the feeling it left her with as she returned to the warmth of the bridge.