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studied the fire-control console. It was still awash with green lights. If there was a fire, none of the sophisticated systems was detecting it, nor were they automatically engaging to put it out.
    “Are you sure about this?” he asked Sheffield skeptically.
    “McFerrin and Harding swear there is a fire raging in the chapel.”
    “This is impossible.” Waitkus picked up the phone and called the engine room.
    Assistant Chief Engineer Joseph Barnum answered. “Engine room. This is Barnum.”
    “This is the captain. Do your fire-control and detection systems show any indication of a fire anywhere on the ship?”
    “One moment.” Barnum turned and peered at a large panel. “No, sir, I’ve got green lights across the board. No indication of a fire on this end.”
    “Stand by to activate your fire-control system manually,” ordered Waitkus.
    At that moment a crewman came running onto the bridge. He rushed up to Sheffield. “Sir, I thought you should know, I smelled smoke when I came around the port promenade deck.”
    Waitkus picked up the phone. “McFerrin?”
    The second officer barely heard the phone buzz over the crackle of the fire. “What is it?” he snapped harshly.
    “This is Captain Waitkus. You and Harding get out of the chapel. I’m going to close the steel fire doors and seal off the chapel.”
    “Make it fast, sir,” said McFerrin loudly. “I fear the fire is about to burst through into the avenue.”
    Waitkus pressed the switch that would send the concealed fire doors around the chapel area, sealing it off. He stood bewildered when the activation light failed to illuminate. He called McFerrin again. “Have the fire doors closed?”
    “No, sir. There is no movement.”
    “This is impossible,” Waitkus muttered for the second time in the past two minutes. “I can’t believe the entire system has shut down.” He rang the engine room again. “Barnum,” he barked, “use your manual override and close the fire doors around the chapel.”
    “Closing the fire door,” Barnum acknowledged. Then, “My board shows no movement. I don’t understand. The fire-door control system is not functioning.”
    “Damn!” Waitkus gasped. He gave a curt nod to Sheffield. “I’m going down to check out the situation for myself.”
    The first officer never saw the captain again. Waitkus entered the bridge elevator, rode down to A Deck and approached the wedding chapel from the side opposite the crew fighting the fire. Unthinkingly, unaware of the enormity of the danger, he jerked open the door behind the altar. A storm of flame burst through the doorway and engulfed him. Almost instantly, his lungs were seared and he was turned into a walking torch. He reeled backward and fell dead in a fireball before he struck the deck.
    Captain Jack Waitkus died horribly, never knowing that his ship was about to die, too.
     
    K elly Egan awoke from a nightmare. It was a kind she often dreamed, in which she was being chased by some sort of indescribable animal or insect. In this one, she was swimming and a huge fish brushed up against her. She moaned in her sleep and popped her eyes open, seeing only the glow from the night-light in the bathroom.
    She wrinkled her nose and sat up, slowly becoming aware of the faint smell of smoke. She inhaled, trying to trace its origin, but it was barely a whiff. Satisfied that it was not coming from inside her stateroom, she lay back down and sleepily wondered if it was only her imagination. But after a few minutes, the scent seemed to become stronger. She also sensed that the temperature in her stateroom had risen. She threw back the covers and set her bare feet on the carpet. The carpet seemed abnormally warm. The heat seemed to be emanating from the deck below. Kelly stood on a chair and placed her hand on the ornate copper ceiling above. It felt cool.
    Concerned, she pulled a robe over her shoulders and padded across the floor to the door leading to the adjoining stateroom occupied