Текст книги "Noah's Ark: Encounters"

Автор книги: Harry Dayle

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Eleven

THE SUBMARINERS ACTED on an instinct honed by years of training and regular drills. It was that instinct that saved Jake’s life. He heard someone scream “Down!”, but whoever it was didn’t wait for him to follow the instruction. A hand on the back of his neck pushed him firmly towards the ground.

His knees buckled beneath him. At the same instant, the world around him exploded in a cacophony of noise. Even before he hit the deck his senses were bludgeoned by pounding detonation after pounding detonation. He was vaguely aware of gun barrels being pointed towards the Lance. With every deafening shot the weapons appeared to spit fire.

By the time he crashed to the floor of the conning tower, Jake’s ears had surrendered entirely. Whatever was happening now, they supplied only a high-pitched buzzing sound to his brain.

The floor underneath him moved and groaned.

Coote.

The man was trying to breathe. He was also bleeding profusely. Jake rolled onto his back, freeing the captain. He placed a hand over the wound and applied pressure, recalling Grau Lister’s words from the regular first-aid courses he had been obliged to attend. Overhead, the submariners’ rifles pumped out shot after shot. With no visible targets at which to aim, it was difficult to judge the efficacy of their actions.

More shots rang out, fired from the Lance. A bullet whistled past Jake’s left ear, ricocheted off the tower and flew out to sea. Another ripped through the flesh of Eric’s shoulder, sending him flailing backwards, his weapon still discharging, a streak of bullets flying into the sky.

Brian and Ewan were on their knees now, sheltering behind the rim of the conning tower. Rounds from the hostile ship clanged into the huge black fin, but the seven-inch-thick steel hull shrugged them off like flies.

Jake reached to his belt with his free hand and found his radio. He still couldn’t hear, but he didn’t need to. He pressed the transmit button and shouted as loud as he could: “Get us out of here! Move!” He suspected the order was redundant, but he had to do something. The bridge had a perfect view of what was happening and he knew Lucya would already be doing everything in her power to get them away.

Coote coughed. Blood spilled from his mouth, splattering across Jake’s perfectly prepared dress uniform.

His hearing began to return. He became aware of sounds, although it was as if someone was holding pillows across his ears. There was the rumble of an engine. He chanced a glance over the rim of the tower and saw the tip of the Lance’s giant winch turning away from them. With no frame of reference he had no idea if they were retreating, or if the Lance was pulling away. Either way, the gun battle was becoming less intense. There were discernible pauses between shots.

He looked down at Coote. The man was unconscious, and losing blood fast. Jake made a snap decision. He sprang to his feet but remained low, crouching below the level of the tower’s surround. He released his hand from the chest wound, and put both hands under Coote’s shoulders.

“Ewan!” He screamed as loud as he could. Ewan heard, and saw immediately what Jake was trying to do.

“Too dangerous!” he mouthed. Jake was not deterred. With his back to the Spirit of Arcadia, he heaved the older captain towards the walkway that connected the vessels. Ewan shook his head violently. A bullet smacked into the handrail of the connecting ramp, narrowly missing Jake’s neck. Ewan span on his heels and fired three rounds towards the Lance. He steadied himself on his knees, targeted the bridge, and fired again. Three more shots. Blood misted one of the windows, and at the same moment the engine of the research ship roared. A swirling torrent of wash erupted from the rear and the blue boat lurched forwards, picking up speed.

Jake heaved Coote onto the walkway and began dragging him backwards. To reach the relative safety of the Arcadia meant crossing open water. It was a risk he was willing to take, if there was a chance of saving the man’s life.

The three navy men, one wounded, held their guard atop the submarine. With every shot that was fired at them, they could better target the enemy. The battle was far from over, but they were evening up the score.

“Jake!”

He heard his name, but his muffled senses gave him no idea where the voice was coming from. The walkway began to vibrate and bounce. For a second he feared the submarine was diving, but then he felt a hand on his shoulder. He was pulled to one side and two men squeezed past him. They carried some kind of makeshift shield – he couldn’t see what, and neither did he care. The person who had held him to the side also squeezed past and grabbed Coote’s legs.

It was Max.

“Go!” he shouted, although Jake saw the word more than he heard it.

Between them they carried Coote over the walkway, Jake walking awkwardly backwards, still crouching. The two security officers stayed close in, protecting them. More than one bullet bounced off their shield, and Jake realised he had been foolhardy to try and cross on his own.

It took them a full minute, a minute that felt like an hour, but they reached the sanctuary of the cruiser. Jake fell through the door, dragging Coote behind him. The second they were the other side of the wide hatch, two sailors started retracting the ramp.

Max barked orders at his security guards, who collected up Coote and carried him towards the lift.

“Eric!” Jake cried. “Eric is shot! We have to go back for him.”

Max put out a hand and held him back. “Nobody’s going outside.”

• • •

Getting from the deck-two hatch up to the medical suite on deck five was something that happened in a bit of a blur. Jake was still disoriented from the sounds of the guns, although his hearing had begun, slowly, to return to normal.

He was aware of other people as he made his way through the ship, but he saw them through a haze, hardly taking in what was happening around him.

What was happening was a kind of calm panic; an ordered chaos. Those who had been watching the encounter from the windows had fled from their vantage points and sought refuge in the inner areas of the ship. Many of those people had been watching from cabins, which meant when they ran, it was to public areas. They took with them their stories of what they had seen, and the news swept through the thirteen decks faster than a wildfire. Security had a presence on every deck, but with little more than one officer per level they would have had their work cut out to keep order, had a real panic set in. Yet for all the mass movement of people, for all the tales of horror being discussed in every corner, there was still a prevailing calmness. It was as if the population had collectively decided that given what they had all overcome thus far, a few men with guns on a strange ship weren’t going to get to them. If anything, the community was pulling together in yet another time of need.

But Jake was oblivious to all this. His mind was full of the sound of gunfire and the sight of blood. His priority now was Coote. Max had convinced him that the other submariners could take care of themselves. It would be over soon anyway. The Lance was pulling away, and the Arcadia and Ambush were also fleeing in the opposite direction.

The door to the inner treatment room was closed when he arrived, but Jake entered without knocking. There were five people inside. Captain Gibson Coote was laid out on the treatment table. His upper body clothing had been cut away and lay discarded on the pristine white tiled floor. He had an oxygen mask secured to his face, and a drip line was already inserted into his arm.

Surgeon Lieutenant Russell Vardy was stooped over the captain. He didn’t look up when Jake entered, and made no attempt at a greeting. His concentration was too intense.

Assisting Vardy was the nurse, Carrie. She was relatively new to the team, having been recruited during the outbreak of the deadly virus. As far as Jake could tell she was sterilising instruments in preparation for emergency surgery.

On one side of the room, standing shocked, were two people Jake didn’t recognise. One look told him they must be Dan and Vicky Mitchell; the young lady was very obviously pregnant.

“I can see the bullet,” Vardy announced. “He’s lucky. It didn’t go deep. Can’t be sure it hasn’t severed a blood vessel though.” The doctor looked up at last, and caught sight of Jake. “You’re all going to have to leave. You too,” he said, looking at the Mitchells. “No time to get this place properly sterile, but I’m not taking unnecessary risks. I need to remove this bullet.”

Jake nodded, and ushered Dan and Vicky towards the door.

“Wait!” Vardy’s cry stopped all three in their tracks. “He needs blood. Jake, get his blood, from the sub.”

“I don’t think we can get to the sub, Russell. The walkway was removed, and there’s a gun fight going on out there.”

“Jake, listen to me. If I can’t get blood into him soon, he’s dead, got it? You’re the captain. Order the walkway to be put back, get over there, and get his blood.”

“Excuse me?” Carrie held her hand in mid-air, as if wishing to ask a question in school. “Didn’t you use his blood when you were testing vaccines? I remember Mandy telling me about it.”

Vardy stamped a foot and yelled at the wall. “Sorry. Yes, you’re right. But there’s more blood on the Ambush, not just Coote’s. He’s type A positive. There’s no shortage of that on board.”

“Russell, I can try, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to get over there and back in time.”

Then Dan piped up. “If it helps, my blood type is O negative. I think that means I can donate to anyone?”

Vardy eyed the young man suspiciously. “Have you given blood before?”

“No.”

“So how do you know your blood type?”

“I worked in the kitchens at Buckingham Palace. A blood test is part of the security check. And as a category one terrorist target, all personnel must know their blood group in case there is an incident that necessitates medical intervention.” Dan repeated the words mechanically, as if they had been drilled into him.

Vardy nodded, satisfied by the explanation. “Do you suffer from any heart condition? Any history of heart conditions in your immediate family?”

“No.”

“Have you had any illness or infection in the last three weeks?”

“No.”

“Have you taken any antibiotics in the last month?”

“Nope.”

“Had any piercings or tattoos in the two months before coming aboard?”

“None.”

“Hepatitis in the last year?”

“No.”

“Ever had a sexually transmitted disease?”

He glanced at Vicky. “Never.”

“Hmm. Two more. Sorry, I have to ask. Have you had sex with a man in the last twelve months? And have you taken any illegal drugs in the last year?”

“No. I’ve never done either of those things.”

“Come on, Russell,” Jake urged. “He has to be a better option that trying to get to the sub.”

Vardy hesitated another second. “Okay, fine. Carrie, can you get him ready? Jake, there’s a transfusion kit in the stores outside. Bring it to me. You.” He pointed at Vicky. “You’ll have to wait outside.”

Jake led her through the door and found her a chair in the outer room of the suite, before charging off to the medical stores and returning with the box Vardy had asked for. He delivered it to the doctor, then at his request, returned to the outer room while emergency surgery was performed.

He found the telephone and called the bridge. While it rang, he punched the speaker button and dropped into a chair.

“Bridge.”

“Lucya.”

“Jake! Shit! Are you okay? We saw the fight. I saw you on the walkway. Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, honestly. Coote, less so. Vardy’s about to operate now. What’s happening out there?”

“They stopped firing. The Lance just took off. I think one of our guys shot the helmsman and he fell onto the controls. Dave was watching through the binoculars. They’ve slowed down, but they’re keeping their distance.”

“What about Eric? He was shot.”

“They all went back into the submarine and it dived. He looked okay.”

“I hope so. They’ve got no medic on board now.”

“They’re all trained in emergency aid, Jake. He’ll be okay. I’ll call them to check though.”

“Thank you. I’m going to wait here in medical. I want to see that Coote pulls through. Call me here if anything happens. We have to convene the committee as soon as possible too.”

“I’ll arrange it.”

He hung up the call, then moved to a seat closer to Vicky. “That was brave of your husband, volunteering like that. Especially as he’s never given blood before.”

“He’ll be okay, won’t he? It’s not dangerous, is it?”

“No. Not at all. And Vardy is an excellent doctor. They don’t come much more highly trained than him.”

“I think he wanted to give something because he feels guilty. About what we did. About what I did.” Vicky looked uneasily at Jake, and caressed her bump.

“Listen, I don’t blame you for what you did. It was a tough time for everyone. It’s been hard since that day. We all act differently under intense pressure. The important thing is that you’re looked after properly now.”

“It’s going to stretch us even more though, isn’t it? Another mouth to feed. Two more mouths to feed, now I’m out of hiding.”

“We’ll manage. And if you’re keeping score and counting mouths, we’ve lost quite a few to the virus. Your baby won’t stretch us. Actually, your baby is probably the best thing that could happen to this ship. To the community.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because your baby will show everyone that life goes on. New life. A brand new generation.”

“She’ll be born into a strange world. If she’s a she. I think she is, but Dan think’s it’s a boy.” She sighed. “I feel sorry for her and she’s not even here yet.”

“You know what? I don’t feel sorry for her. I don’t want to sound mean, but it’s the rest of us I feel sorry for. Your baby can’t miss what she never knew. This will be her world, her normality.”

Vicky shifted her weight in her chair. “She’ll learn about the world as it was before though, won’t she?”

“Yes. Didn’t you learn about the world before, in history lessons? Do you wish you lived in the past?”

“Sometimes. Mostly not though, I guess. It’s just, I worry she’ll never run through a cornfield on a summer’s day, or watch autumn leaves turn gold, or taste fresh strawberries, or see the ruins of ancient Rome, or splash through puddles on her way to school. There’s a million normal things she’ll never do.”

Jake put his arm around her as she wiped a tear from her eye. “Rome might be difficult, I’ll grant you. But I know a rather splendid man called Joseph, and I’ll be amazed if he doesn’t have fresh strawberries growing on some corner of this ship before the end of the year. Puddles can be arranged too. And as for cornfields? I think your baby will see them. The planet will repair itself. It’ll take time, but she’ll have a long life, and I think she’ll have a happy life.”

The door to the inner room opened and Dan stepped out, looking ghostly white. He slumped into the nearest chair. Vicky got up and moved next to him.

“Dan? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just a bit…weak.”

“I’ll find you something to eat. You should have tea and a biscuit after giving blood,” Jake said. He went back to the medical stores, where he remembered having seen some high-energy glucose bars.

“Here, eat this,” he said, returning to the waiting couple. “That should get you back on your feet. And thank you, for helping Coote.”

Dan nodded, and tucked into the extra ration.

“Vicky.” Jake sat down next to the girl once more. “It’s rather fortuitous that you’re here, as I was planning on coming to see you this morning. I understand your mother was Korean?”

“Yes. She was from Donghae. It’s very beautiful, with mountains and beaches.”

“And you speak Korean? Do you read written Korean?”

“Yes. My mother was very strict about that. I read and spoke Korean before I learned any English.”

Jake reached into the pocket of his bloodied jacket, retrieved the notebook, and flicked through until he found his hand-drawn symbols.

“I wonder if you could tell me what these six symbols mean? I understand they are Korean.”

She took the book, hand shaking slightly. “Five symbols,” Vicky said, smiling.

“Sorry?”

“There are five symbols. See here, this box, and the lines that look like an H? That is a single symbol.”

“Okay. And what does this say?”

“It says: ‘traitor scum’.”

Twelve

ALL OF THE committee members with the exception of Captain Coote were present on the bridge when Jake returned.

“How is he?” Lucya asked as soon as he stepped through the door.

“Unconscious. He lost a lot of blood. Vardy removed the bullet. He was lucky, it didn’t hit anything too important, but he had to try and repair a blood vessel.”

“Try?”

“Doesn’t have quite the right equipment, or something, I don’t know. He says it’s still touch and go. There was no point me hanging round there any longer. He could be out of it for days.”

The committee members were spread out around the room. Martin was examining a console, keeping out of everyone’s way. Amanda and Ella were seated at the map table with Grau. Max and Silvia were at the front windows, watching the Lance. Jake joined them.

“It’s a damned game of cat and mouse she’s playing with us,” Max said. He was studying the research ship through a powerful pair of binoculars. Jake wondered where he’d got them; they looked much better than his own.

“Are we the cat, or the mouse?”

“Judging by the last encounter? Squeak squeak. They’re nimble, agile. They can run rings around us.”

“We’re running rings around each other,” Lucya said, arriving at Jake’s side. “They’re trying to circle us, and we’re trying to circle them. We’re keeping an even distance. We’re out of the range of their weapons at least.”

“Any sign of life? I mean, has anyone actually seen anyone on board?”

“Nope.”

“Come on, let’s sit down.” Jake led the others to the table. He looked around at the stony-faced committee members.

Nobody seemed to know where to begin. Grau Lister scratched his ear.

“Has anyone asked the obvious question?” Jake raised an eyebrow. “Why is a Norwegian research vessel firing at us?”

“Who cares why?” Max slapped a huge hand on the table. “The fact is, they did. And for that, I say we blow them out of the water. That fancy submarine must have some torpedoes. Blow the suckers sky high, they deserve it. Shooting at innocent civilians.”

“Max, please,” Jake said. “Firstly, they didn’t shoot at civilians. Apart from myself, those men were in uniform. Secondly, nobody is torpedoing anyone. And third, if we knew why they were shooting at us, we might be able to negotiate with them.”

“Negotiate?” Martin stopped staring at his knees and looked up. “Screw that. We leave them to it. Get out of here. Go to Crozon. They’ve led us away from our original objective. We’re not sticking around to negotiate with some reprobate Vikings.”

“I bet that was what they wanted!” Ella predictably sided with Martin. “They don’t want us to go to Crozon, so they lured us out here!”

“I think we can dispense with the conspiracy theories,” Jake said calmly. “The Spirit of Arcadia may be an unarmed civilian ship—”

“Lightly armed,” Max corrected. “Still got some of the anti-piracy weapons.”

“We may be a civilian ship, but it’s going to take more than the crew of a tiny polar research boat to overpower us. It seems to me more likely that their actions were meant to put an end to our pursuit. They probably just don’t want us following them.”

“Right!” Martin agreed. “So we stop following them, and get our arses back to where we should be, which is checking out submarine bases for supplies.”

Silvia spoke next. “I don’t think we should go. We can help them. Twenty people, on that little boat, how much food have they got? They need us.”

Martin, Ella, and Max all countered the point with a barrage of expletives.

Jake banged a fist on the table, bringing them back to order. “I agree with Silvia that we probably shouldn’t give up on them, not yet. We’ve come all this way to make contact. They’re the first people we’ve seen since the asteroid. There could be plenty of reasons they shot at us. Plenty of innocent reasons. I want to find out more before we turn our backs on them. What do we know so far?”

“That they’re mad?” Martin offered.

Jake ignored him.

“Those rafts you found? Pretty sure they came from the Lance,” Max said. “Hard to tell for sure, but I’d say she’s missing a few.”

Jake’s mind flashed back to the words Vicky Mitchell had spoken. “Traitor scum.” What did that even mean? Had they killed members of their own crew? And why was the writing Korean? It made no sense, but he wasn’t ready to share the information with the others. He knew what they would say: get away from there, fast. “Amanda, you’re being very quiet. What do you think?”

Everyone turned to look at the woman seated at the end of the table. She hadn’t said a word since Jake had arrived on the bridge.

“I think…” she began. She looked at every person in turn, then started again. “I think we should have a team from the submarine mount an operation, at night, to take the Lance. Capture the crew. Take them prisoner.”

There was a collective intake of breath, then everyone tried to talk at once. It was down to Jake to bring order, again banging his fist on the table. “Quiet!” The voices died down, reducing to a murmur. “Thank you. You can respond, one at a time. Lucya?”

“Oh for fu—” Martin began, but Lucya shot him a look that silenced him.

“I don’t think we have that right,” Lucya said.

Jake nodded at Grau.

“I have to say, this is a very audacious idea. I agree with Miss Levin. We are not a military ship—”

“The Ambush is,” Amanda interjected.

“Yes, the Ambush is. I cannot see anything that justifies a military response.”

Jake nodded at Martin, working his way around the table.

“For once, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, I agree with Amanda. If we’re not leaving, then we should stay and do the job properly. That ship would be a very useful asset. None of your half-hearted fence-sitting, Jake. Either we fuck off out of here, or we stay and take that boat.”

“Max?”

“I still say we blow the bastards up.”

“Right. Ella?”

“Leave ’em. They’re trying to keep us from Crozon. There’s gotta be something there. We could be missing out.”

“Silvia?”

“I see where Amanda’s coming from. Grau’s right though. On what authority can we mount such an operation? If a bigger ship comes along, do they have the right to attack us, take us prisoner?”

“I’d like to see them try,” Max grunted.

“I think we should leave. They obviously don’t want our help,” she continued, ignoring him. “However, before we go, I wonder… Is there any way we could tag them with a radio beacon? You know how they tag whales and other endangered species? Is that something we could do? Perhaps Lucya could work her magic like she did with the buoy that saved your life? That way, we’d have advance warning if they came after us. And if, later, we decided for whatever reason that we wanted to find them again, we would have the means by which to do so.”

“You know what, Silvia? That’s the most sensible idea I’ve heard yet,” Jake said. “Look, I’m not ruling out any other ideas, not even yours, Max. Right now though? Silvia’s right. If we can attach a transmitter to the Lance, we can go to Crozon without fear of losing them. If anyone can convince the whole committee, unanimously, that we should…attack,” he said the word as though it left a bad taste in his mouth, “later on, then we will be able to find them and do that.”

“I agree,” Grau said. “Not about attacking. Tagging the boat is a good compromise.”

“Me too.” Lucya raised her hand.

“What a surprise. Yeah, okay, whatever,” Martin mumbled.

Jake looked at the others in turn, and to his great relief, everyone agreed that Silvia’s idea represented the best compromise.

• • •

For once, Grace hadn’t complained about being sent back to deck nine to patrol. Everyone on the security team was patrolling; she wasn’t missing out on something more interesting. The encounter with the other ship had given new meaning to her peace-keeping role, too. She expected trouble, and Grace liked trouble.

Yet since shots had been fired, trouble had been hard to come by. There had been a mass movement of people away from the port side of the ship, away from danger. Then there had been a remarkable sense of calm.

In one of the public areas a lively debate was taking place, but it was good natured. Those who had been against taking on new people saw themselves as having been vindicated. Those with the opposing view maintained that the survivors deserved a chance, and that coming to find them had still been the right thing to do. Grace was asked to share her opinion. She politely but firmly refused to be drawn into the discussion. She was there to do a job and was required to keep a professional distance from such things.

As she moved on, heading towards the rear of the deck, she became aware of someone following her. She spun around, ready to defend herself. Her follower posed no threat. She was an elderly woman, walking with the aid of a stick.

“Hello! Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you, love. You’re one of those police people, aren’t you?”

Grace relaxed. “Yes, ma’am. I am with the security team. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Ooh, what a lovely accent. And so polite. I don’t know if you are the right person to speak to. I have a small concern. It’s silly really, probably nothing. I don’t want to bother you with it if you think it’s not important.”

“Ma’am, if you have something on your mind, please tell me and I’ll do my best to help, or to find someone who can.”

The lady looked unsure, but decided to continue. “It’s just that I haven’t seen my friend for a while, and I was a trifle concerned for her. Oh, you see, now I’ve said it, it sounds silly, doesn’t it? I’m just being a silly old woman.”

“No, ma’am, you’re not. When did you last see your friend?”

“Do you mind if we sit down, love? My legs aren’t what they used to be.”

“Of course. Excuse me, that’s very rude of me.” Grace glanced around. The long passageway ran the length of deck nine, and was punctuated by wide open spaces where the stairwells ran through the ship, as well as other open seating areas next to picture windows looking out to sea. The stairwell behind them was still full of those arguing the merits of allowing new people on board, so Grace took the lady’s arm and helped her to the next window, where they could sit around a low table. In the distance they could see the Lance. She looked innocent, harmless, but they knew differently.

“Very angry,” the old lady said, “the people on that ship. I wonder why they are so upset? Shooting at that nice Captain Coote, and young Captain Noah too.”

“So your friend? When did you last see her?” Grace took out her notebook and started to scribble. The woman eyed her suspiciously.

“Is this going to be an official thing? I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”

“You won’t get anyone in trouble. I’m taking some notes so I don’t forget anything important.”

The woman nodded. “If you think that’s for the best, love. I last saw my friend, Mrs Hayton, Marie…ooh…it must have been when we were in Scotland. You remember, when we went to that big loch?”

“Yes, Gare Loch. And did you see Mrs Hayton frequently before that?”

“Oh yes. Every day. She accompanies me on a promenade around deck eleven. Every afternoon at four. Except that time it rained. We didn’t go outside in the rain. But everyone was sick then anyway, so we didn’t go anywhere.”

Grace’s pen scratched at the thick paper, inscribing the details as they were recounted. “What cabin is Mrs Hayton in?”

“974. With her husband, Sammy. I haven’t seen him either, but I don’t know him so well. He prefers to spend time with his gentleman friends, chewing the cud, putting the world to rights. You know what men are like.”

“You’ve been to their cabin, I assume.”

The lady gave Grace a withering look. “I may be frail, but my mind hasn’t gone yet, love.”

“Sorry, I had to ask. Okay, I just need a few more details. Can you give me your name and cabin number?”

“I’m Mrs Slade. Cabin 978.”

“And can you describe Mrs Hayton for me? Do you remember what she was wearing the last time you saw her?”

“Yes. A Laura Ashley print dress, a green one. I remember it because I said it was a bit young for her. Oh, I do hope I haven’t upset her. That’s probably why she’s stopped promenading with me, isn’t it? She’s upset because of what I said. Golly, I do hope I’m not wasting your time.”

Grace assured Mrs Slade that no, she wasn’t wasting her time, and that on the contrary, her time was there to be used for the purposes of assuring the security of everyone on the ship. That included finding those who had gone missing. She took down some more details about the missing couple, then thanked the lady and told her she would be in touch.

When she left the cosy window alcove, it was with a smile on her face. She could finish her patrol in no time at all, and then she would be free to delve into her second missing persons case in as many days.

• • •

The loudspeakers in the ceiling of the bridge hissed and burbled. They relayed the conversations of men and women in three different locations, but right now, nobody was speaking.

Jake was beginning to regret having eaten his lunch rations before the operation got underway. Now his body was diverting its energy resources to digesting the steak and kidney pie and mashed potato, making him feel quite dozy. He was grateful to head chef Claude for cooking up something so substantial and hearty, no doubt with the intention of reinforcing the morale of the community, but he regretted having wolfed it down so rapidly.

“They’re entering the airlock now.” Ralf’s metallic voice crackled above.

“How confident are you, Ralf, really?” Jake asked. “It’s just, the Lance seems such a long way away.” His words were sucked up by microphones embedded in the ceiling, whisked away to a computer, chopped up and digitised, then hurled down the line to the Ambush where they were reassembled and blasted out of a speaker in the communications control room.