Crazy Cruise
by Sergey Kabskikh
The cruise ship Hesiona departed from Honolulu, Hawaii and set course for Sydney, Australia.
Jack, embarking on his first cruise, stood on deck with his wife Beatrice, the daughter of a recently deceased billionaire who had died at the perfect time, leaving his entire inheritance to Beatrice.
Jack was like a well-bred piece of furniture, something to incite envy. A retired sergeant in the 25th Infantry Division, he was taller than average, slender, wiry, resilient and even handsome, with a touch of nobility. His refined features made him look like a titled nobleman, though he was not one. There were a few faint marks on his left cheek from shrapnel from a grenade that had exploded on a group of mujahideen who had run too close, but these scars only added to his beauty.
Jack wasn’t eager to go on a cruise; he had a severe combination of thalassophobia and hydrophobia. This was extremely strange, as he was born on an island of Hawaii and had seen the ocean since childhood. But this phobia was the reason he joined the army, not the Marines.
If it weren’t for his wife, who did what she wanted, and Jack’s easygoing nature, he wouldn’t have set foot on that cruise ship. He even swam in the ocean only along the shore, never going deeper.
Jack served in the military in Hawaii and, after retiring, continued to live there, at first modestly and later much less modestly, thanks to his wife’s rich inheritance. But Beatrice wanted to “show him the world.” The world could be seen on television, Jack thought, but he didn’t argue with his wife.
He liked the VIP cabin for two; it was located aft and quite cozy, with a large balcony. Beatrice jumped on him as soon as they entered the cabin, saying, “Take me all, here and now.” Jack was used to it; he was a military man, and military men can survive under any conditions.
During the ocean voyage, he participated in sports, played volleyball and basketball, went to dances, visited a massage parlor, theater shows and theme parties. He even began to get used to it, and the anxiety caused by the deep water receded into the background.
One day, Beatrice burst into the cabin and announced, “Hurry up, the party’s started, Neptune Day, for those crossing the equator for the first time.”
Jack followed her. Just another party, no big deal, Jack was used to them. The corridor was filled with joyfully chattering Chinese, who participated actively in all the shows.
The crowd carried him and Beatrice onto the liner’s deck.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Neptune, King of the Seas, has learned that we have those crossing the equator for the first time! Which means these newcomers must undergo a rite of passage!” the captain shouted through a megaphone.
“And the first newcomer is... Jack! He’s accused of not eating enough! Look how thin he is!”
Jack wasn’t skinny; he was strong and wiry, but this was a deliberate, playful accusation. The entertainers, dressed as monkfish, placed him on the table and began to cover him with mayonnaise and ketchup, then sprinkle salad on top.
“Jack, lie still, it’s just a show,” he heard Beatrice say, and he suddenly panicked.
“We’ll feed him to the ocean eventually!” the captain continued with a laugh, and Jack began to look around wildly.
Jack’s psyche began to change.
The ship’s staff grabbed him and carried him to the pool to bathe him, but Jack didn’t know it. He tensed up. He really didn’t like what was happening. He thought they were going to throw him into the ocean.
“Overboard, haha!” some tourist joked thoughtlessly, not even realizing he had just committed a terrible faux pas.
A trigger clicked in Jack’s head, and he slammed his heel into the jaw of the animator carrying him.
With a wild cry, Jack broke free and, rising to his feet, slammed together the heads of the two animators who were holding his hands.
Falling backward, he twisted like a cat and landed on all fours. He then scampered back to his cabin, reaching incredible speed. If there had been a cheetah here, it would have shot itself in grief, because it would never have been able to catch Jack.
A steward with a tray laden with glasses, coming out of the corridor onto the deck, received a blow to the stomach from Jack’s head and slumped to the wall, reproachfully watching Jack, who galloped down the corridor and hid in his cabin.
* * *
Jack had been growling and howling for two hours, refusing to let anyone inside the cabin. He wouldn’t let anyone throw him into the ocean. He’d throw everyone there, himself. Beatrice begged him to open the door, but Jack didn’t believe her.
The captain paced the corridor, the entertainers apologized ten times, but Jack wouldn’t open the door.
* * *
“Forward, attack! Loot the captain’s safe and the VIP cabins!” the pirate leader commanded as four boats carrying twenty pirates raced toward the ship.
The British and Russians had fought the Somali pirates, but global piracy hadn’t gone away; it had spread across the oceans in search of prime locations to attack. And now the pirates were racing toward the cruise ship off the Fiji Islands.
Since Jack had successfully diverted the crew’s attention, they weren’t washed away with water cannons, no one activated the LRAD (long-range acoustic device), and the ship didn’t even attempt to increase speed to escape the boats. The boarding was successful.
The pirates scattered throughout the ship, herding tourists into the theater and storming the VIP cabins. The leader and his henchmen seized the bridge. In response to the pirates’ demanding knocks, the cabin doors swung open, passengers were dragged out into the corridor, and the pirates plundered everything of value. Beatrice and the other passengers were robbed of their cabin keys, which had “VIP” written on their keychains, and the captain’s assistant, as the more reasonable one, went with the pirate captain’s henchmen and opened the VIP cabins.
Jack’s cabin door swung open, and a pirate tried to enter with an automatic rifle at the ready, but a nightstand smashed into his head and sent him flying back into the corridor. The captain’s assistant, pressed against the wall, watched in horror as the unconscious pirate was dragged back into the cabin by his legs.
And then something terrible happened: Jack switched into combat mode.
Without looking at the rifle, Jack primed it, clicking the bolt. In his mind’s eye, he was back in Iraq, clearing houses of Islamic terrorists.
He fired rapid bursts at both ends of the corridor, climbed out of the cabin and finished off the pirates who had collapsed on the floor. Then, with practiced movements, he stuffed spare ammunition magazines into his pockets and raced to the bar downstairs.
* * *
“Stop wasting bullets. You have the keys, right?” the leader said, frowning with displeasure, giving the order over the radio.
“They’re shooting at us! Aaah! Stop! Bang! Bang! Don’t! Bang! Bang! Bang! Pshhhh... Pshhhh...” The radio went silent.
The sound of shattering portholes could be heard. The shards fell with a clang onto the lower decks.
Jack, running, determined the penetration range of obstacles and firing arcs, setting off a frantic firefight in the bar. The pirates flew to the floor, splattering blood on the walls.
Jack pranced down the hallway, holding his machine gun like AC/DC guitarist Angus Young. Black Sabbath’s “Paranoid” was playing in his head, only in a country arrangement at one and a half speed.
A pirate from behind the bar aimed his bullet-spewing gun at him, but Jack was faster. He ran down a side aisle and, with a few bursts, mowed down the confused pirates crowding the corridor. They weren’t prepared for a counter-assault. Robbing frightened passengers was one thing, but fighting a professional soldier who had spent his life killing enemies of his country was quite another. Jack acted like a well-oiled machine. He fired wildly and accurately. His heart sang. The roar of the rifle caressed his ears.
* * *
“Mr. Pirate, trust me, you better get into the lifeboats and save yourself! We have a dangerous psychopath with heightened paranoia on board! His psyche was severely damaged during Neptune’s feast; he hates water and open spaces, his reality is distorted, and we’re all in danger!” the liner’s captain tried to convince the pirate leader, who had taken over the bridge.
The pirate leader watched as his men leaped onto the deck and rushed toward the lifeboats. Two of them jumped into the water straight from the deck, vaulting over the railing.
A tall, thin, blond man jumped out after them, shot the two pirates flying toward the water while they were still in the air, burst into a hellish laugh and disappeared back into the liner’s labyrinth, twirling a few times like a ballerina. The pirates’ bodies splashed onto the ocean surface and sank out of sight.
The pirate leader turned pale. He’d never seen anyone dispatch his thugs so easily. Barely moving on his wobbly legs, he was already moving toward his boats.
“How can this be? You see a cruise liner once in your life, and they won’t let you rob it! Why am I so unlucky?” the leader thought as he made his way to the lifeboats. He could hear the distinctive bursts of automatic rifle fire from inside the liner.
“Survive! Survive! At any cost!” flashed through the leader’s mind. He didn’t care about his gang; he had to save his own skin!
He had almost reached the boat when a burst of machine-gun fire ripped through his back...
* * *
“Darling, I think I’m no longer afraid of water,” Jack said, climbing out of the ocean onto a Sydney beach.
“I’m happy for you, darling. We’ll fly back.” Beatrice shuddered as she recalled the police at the port taking the lifeless bodies of bandits from the ship for identification.
“Let’s go home on the same ship. I enjoyed the cruise,” Jack suggested.
“No way. Only the plane. I’ve already booked a morning flight from Sydney to Hawaii, Australian Airlines, no more cruises. I’m still suffering from post-cruise stress syndrome,” Beatrice decided firmly.
“Okay, dear, you’re the head of the family. We’ll fly.” Jack shrugged.
* * *
“We’ll hijack a plane tomorrow and demand the release of our leader, Barbibuda Barbidad! Our brother Dumdarbum brought a suitcase full of plastic pistols, heavy ceramic bullets and glass knives; they’re undetectable by metal detectors and packed like toys. But these aren’t toys; these bullets can penetrate light body armor and these knives...” The terrorist leader slashed a brick with his knife, splitting it in two.
“Be careful with those knives, or you’ll tear the plane apart. Tomorrow we board the morning Sydney-Hawaii flight, Australian Airlines. The briefing is over. Now everyone, off to the Five Minutes of Hate.”
Copyright © 2026 by Sergey Kabskikh
