Sadly, neither Jerome nor Sean had a chance of making Mae's list of people she possibly tolerated by virtue of their heritage or profession. And well, she didn't like many people besides him anyway. That said, he was suitably impressed at her restraint and even her manners. She'd be fine.
They really had no choice. Something had to be done to ensure everyone's survival. Or as many as possible. Cathair was already thinking along the lines of this being a battle and could likely be an ugly one. Especially with the otherworldly forces at play. Yes, otherworldly forces. As Doyle had put it so famously When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.
Which meant the Devil had taken hold of this ship to him. And it wasn't selfishness to want Father Fitzpatrick on their side. They'd need him, for more than just his prayers and support. He was a former soldier and a level head amidst the chaos and doubt. And everyone from the meeting earlier owed him an apology for behaving badly. It was added to the list of things he needed to do before this hellish day was over. He didn't expect the priest to even listen before then, unless things really went to hell. And he didn't blame him. It was bad form, inviting your elders for their counsel then not paying it any mind at all.
He nodded to Leto. "We can ask her," he agreed. "I'd recommend bringing her some Red Bull to whomever does it. She's a quirky sort, I'd wager." Which was a polite way of saying she was likely halfway 'round the twist. But the sorts who could do the things she likely could usually were.
Cathair nodded. "I've been going over the deck plans, trying to find as many points of entry and the like on which levels. The wall vents are marked, by the system isn't. Which may or may not be a concern, if they're too small for a person to fit through."
As for the helm, Cath was beginning to believe the crew was long gone or dead. No word for days and the intercom worked perfectly. "Be best if we can see into the room first. If we're being honest, I think they're gone or dead. We're lost and there's no way for us to tell direction, so even if we break into the helm, there may be little we can do but steer the ship away from obstacles. Which unless I'm losing my bloody mind completely, this ship hasn't changed course in two days either, even for slight adjustments such as going around things."
Which was as close as he was going to get to saying that the Devil himself was likely doing the driving and they were in for one hell of a ride. Damn, his coffee needed more whiskey in it. He took another drink. "That said, we do need to know what's going on up there, even if we can't do a bloody thing for it." People were disappearing without a trace and being miraculously healed. There were forces well beyond their earthly control at work here. It was pointless to deny it any longer.