He blinked. “Uh… ‘State the problem clearly. Then—’”
Eli had joined six months ago, fresh from the Maritime Academy, where he’d aced IMO Model Course 1.27 (Operational Use of Electronic Chart Display and Information Systems). He could program a route in his sleep. But when the main radar went down at 0200 hours, leaving them blind in the screaming dark, Anya saw the familiar panic bloom in his eyes.
“Tonight, you didn’t pass a test. You passed the real exam. Welcome to command.” imo model course
Eli let out a long, shuddering breath.
“Eli. What is Step 4 of the Bridge Resource Management drill?” He blinked
Eli shook his head. “No, ma’am. I learned it in Model Course 1.22 —the one on ‘Emergency Procedures in Heavy Weather.’ But I thought it was just… theory.”
“Captain, I think we’re two miles south of our plotted track. If we turn ten degrees to port now, we clear the ice field.” He could program a route in his sleep
Anya gave the order. The helmsman spun the wheel. For twenty agonizing minutes, they listened to the hull groan. Then, through the rime on the windows, they saw it: a massive chunk of glacial ice, blue and silent, sliding past their starboard side with less than fifty meters to spare.