Текст книги "Noah's Ark: Survivors"

Автор книги: Harry Dayle

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Jake considered the proposition. It seemed fair. The passengers did deserve a say in what happened. And if, as he was sure would be the case, they turned out to be the only survivors of the asteroid, then an election would be the perfect opportunity to stand down, He hadn’t asked to be captain, didn’t want to be captain, and certainly didn’t want to be leader of the last human settlement on earth.

“Then we have an agreement,” Jake said. “But I need to see evidence that Tania is untied and being treated properly.”

Max banged his head against the console. “This is a really bad idea,” he groaned.

“Now please release my radio officer, and tell me how we get your message to those holding Tania.”

Melvin nodded to his supporters on the floor, who helped Lucya to her feet then stepped back in with the others behind their leader.

“There must be an announcement from the captain that we will set sail tomorrow morning.”

“I can’t promise that, I don’t know if the engine will be ready by then.”

“You’d better hope it will be, because if you don’t put out that call in the next thirty five minutes, chomp chomp.”

Jake sighed, walked over to a console, picked up a handset, and flipped up a button marked PA.

• • • • •

The wardrobe door opened, light streamed in, blinding Tania. Two pairs of hands grabbed her and pulled her roughly from the confines of her prison and onto the cabin floor.

“Congratulations,” a voice above her said. “You just got promoted to passenger.”

Twenty-Four

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND Flynn, how is this good news? Not only are you not in charge, you’re not even the guy on the bridge?”

“You stupid woman, haven’t you listened to anything I’ve said?”

“Yes! I thought you were sending those boys to take over, to organise some kind of mutiny,” Eileen backed away from her husband, his red face was a sure sign she was making him angry.

“But they were never going to be put in charge. This is my foot in the door. Now we have a spy on the bridge, someone who can judge the lay of the land. Someone who can plant the seeds of doubt in the crew. While we work on the passengers, Melvin will work the crew. Softly softly Eileen.”

“But if the captain is deposed,”

“When, Eileen. When the captain is deposed,” Flynn cut in.

“Sorry, Flynn. When the captain is deposed, won’t Melvin take over?”

“Melvin has a more important role to play than he knows. But trust me when I say that he will never run this ship.”

Twenty-Five

THERE WAS A knock at the door to the bridge. Max opened it, letting Martin and Grau in.

“Did we miss something?” Martin asked. “Who were that lot we passed on their way out?”

“Nobody important,” Max grunted.

Melvin cleared his throat, loudly. “I wouldn’t say that. Sorry, we haven’t been introduced. I’m Melvin Sherwood, representative of the passengers.”

Grau cast a glance in the direction of Jake, then reached out to shake the new man’s hand.

“Grau Lister, doctor. Chief medical officer. Pleased to meet you.”

Melvin shook his hand limply, then looked at Martin.

“Oakley, Martin. Chief engineer.”

The two men shook hands briefly. Lucya watched the scene, tutted loudly, and walked off to her communications console.

“So, shall we?” Jake said. He led the group over to the map table, now cleared of charts. “Lucya, can you join us?”

“Just checking the radios, be there in thirty seconds.”

There was another knock at the door. Max sighed and went to open it.

“How many more are we expecting?” he called back over his shoulder.

“Two. Silvia, of course, and Claude Dupont,” Jake said.

“Oh Jesus, why the hell did you invite him?” Martin looked aghast.

“If we don’t want to die of starvation or malnutrition, we need to keep Claude on side. And anyway, he’s not so bad. If anyone can keep that kitchen in order and enforce a strict ration, Claude can.”

“He’s French, how do we know he won’t go on strike?” Lucya asked, pulling a face.

“By including him in these meetings. Hi, Claude, thanks for coming. Hi Silvia”

They joined the group at the table.

“Claude, I think you know everyone except Melvin Sherwood, he’s here to represent the passengers on board.”

“Who cares what the passengers think about anything? Will you be inviting some penguins up ‘ere too? Perhaps the polar bears would like representation?”

“Claude, you know how important it is to listen to everyone’s view. Liberté, égalité, all that?”

“Hmmph,” Claude gave a shrug. He looked around, found a stool, and sat down.

“Silvia Brook, hotel director,” Silvia said offering a hand to Melvin. He shook it while looking down his nose at her.

“How’s the leg, Grau?” Jake looked sympathetically at the doctor.

“Much improved, yes, thank you. Kiera patched it up for me, and some painkillers and a little rest have helped.”

Lucya stood up from her post, shook her head, and wandered over to the map table. Jake looked at her, raised an eyebrow enquiringly.

“No, nothing. Static on all channels. All the satellite feeds are dead, nothing on the shortwave. I still can’t even find any working navigation beacons. It’s like the world outside just disappeared.”

“Would you say,” Melvin piped up, “that it is therefore likely that Pelagios Line has bitten the dust and that this ship is no longer the property of any one or any organisation?”

“Now now, let’s not jump to any conclusions,” Jake said, trying to keep the peace.

“Actually Mr Sherwood, no I wouldn’t say that,” Lucya fixed him with a stern look. “There could be many reasons for radio silence, including loss of power.”

“Okay, we discussed all this last time,” Jake wanted to move things forward. “We’ll go round the table quickly. Martin, good job on getting the generator going. When do you think we can start the engine?”

“The guys are running their final checks now, but they’re going to have to stop for some rest before long. Cleaning out that funnel took it out of them. We can probably start winding her up slowly around nine hundred hours.”

“Right, that means we can start moving in the morning, as I promised in the last PA call.” He looked pointedly at Melvin as he spoke.

“Grau, things calmed down in medical?”

“Yes, for sure. There is just the problem of the unknowns we talked about.”

“Right. Barry and I will join you down in the temporary morgue in the morning, to try and identify any crew. Melvin, I need you to come too, you’ll need to photograph all of the deceased for our records.”

“I’m not your lackey!” Melvin looked shocked.

“No, you’re the passenger representative. You need to pull your weight just like every other department head here. I would have asked the head of housekeeping to perform the task, but she is unfortunately not available for the time being.”

Melvin snarled, but said nothing. Lucya smiled, and studied the nails of her left hand.

“Max, anything I need to know about?”

“There was, but the problem has reached a conclusion,” Max was staring at Melvin.

“So Lucya, where are we headed tomorrow?”

“I’ve plotted a course for Longyearbyen in Svalbard. It’s the most northerly permanent settlement that we can reach with the least fuel. Technically speaking Barentsburg is nearer, and we’ll have to almost go past it, but it’s difficult to access, we can’t dock there.”

“Svalbard? What use is that? We need to head for Portsmouth, or New York, and see what’s happened to the civilised world!” Melvin said.

“We couldn’t reach either without taking on more fuel,” Lucya said flatly. “And as we don’t know if there is anywhere left where we can get fuel, it would not be prudent to set off on such a pointless voyage. If we go to Longyearbyen, we can assess the state of the place, and possibly find fuel there.”

“Woah, I thought we were just repositioning, not actually going anywhere?” Martin said.

“We were. But now we’re not. Plans have changed,” Jake replied. He knew that was coming.

“So you take over the ship, then let the passengers run the show? Bloody marvellous, I’ve heard it all now.” Martin walked away from the table and slumped into the chair at Lucya’s radio console.

Jake ignored him, looked back to Lucya to continue.

“Longyearbyen has diesel reserves that they use for their own vehicles, mostly snowmobiles. If, and it is a big if, the town and its fuel are still there, then we can consider exploring further.”

“How much fuel, if it’s still there?” Jake asked.

“Next to nothing by the standards of what this ship consumes. But there’s an airport three kilometres from the town. This is Martin’s area, but I’m hoping we could use aircraft fuel as well as the diesel?”

Martin looked up, he couldn’t help but be interested in the technical aspect of the plan.

“Kerosene burns hotter than diesel,” he said. “We’d need to put in some kind of additive, or make some adjustments to the engines.” He rubbed his chin absent mindedly. “But if we mixed it with the diesel we’re already carrying, it could work. The more diesel we could find though, the less chance of damaging the engines.”

“This sounds excellent, good work Lucya. How long will it take us to get there?” Jake asked.

“Going slow for better efficiency, it will be about fifteen hours sailing time, but it could be more. I tried to factor in currents, but they are really a guess. The harbour is tiny, but it can take us—just. It will be some tricksy manoeuvring. Normally they would supply a pilot, but…well…you know.”

Jake nodded. He understood perfectly. “Claude, how’s the menu going?”

“It is not easy, this job that you ‘ave given me. But, I rise to the challenge. With a small breakfast, a modest lunch and dinner, we can feed everyone for twenty two days. Provided we can keep the freezers running for another week.”

“Great work Claude. People will already be hungry, we haven’t served food all day,” Jake said. Everyone around the table agreed heartily. “I’ll put out a call announcing breakfast service will start at six hundred hours. You can organise some breakfasts for then?”

“My boys will work through the night.”

“I’ll also announce the passenger manifest. We need to organise it quickly, issue people with meal vouchers at the same time.”

This drew some blank expressions around the table, so Jake filled in all present on his plans for a census disguised as a passenger manifest, and the reasons why. Melvin protested at the whole idea, calling it a “deception of the highest order”, but was summarily overruled by all present, much to Lucya’s delight.

“So returning to the meal arrangements, you will divide the passengers between the restaurants, of course?” Claude said. “We should have a list in each restaurant, cross their names off when they have eaten, so they do not take more than their fair share.”

“Yes, yes you’re right. Another good reason to get the census and manifest done quickly,” Jake agreed. “Silvia, can you join me on the bridge for breakfast? I’ll need your team to go door to door.”

“Of course, I’ll be there for six.”

“Great, so I think we have covered everything then. I will make those calls, then take first watch on the bridge. It’s now twenty two thirty. Lucya, you can replace me at oh-two thirty, in the meantime, get some sleep. All of you try and get some sleep, tomorrow is going to be a very long day.”

The group slowly disbanded. Martin and Claude both ignored Jake’s call for sleep and went back to work. Lucya, Silvia and Grau headed for their cabins and some much needed rest. Melvin went to find his cronies to nominate someone to take his place on the bridge for the night shift.

Max remained on the bridge, something on his mind. Jake took to the PA to announce that food service would resume with breakfast, and that a census would take place the next day.

“Max, are you not going to catch forty winks?”

“I’m concerned about the security situation on this ship. I didn’t want to talk openly in front of the others, particularly Sherwood.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“Given all that has happened today, people have been remarkably calm. Probably a mixture of shock and grief. But that’s not going to last. Sherwood is just the tip of the iceberg, a taster of what is to come. If we hit land tomorrow and…and everything is gone, then reality is going to set in. There could be mass panic. Probably more suicides, although that’s no bad thing.”

“I’m sorry?” Jake said. “How can suicide not be a bad thing?”

“From a security point of view, it means fewer people to keep in line. Every jumper is one less person to keep an eye on.”

Jake sighed. “I’m really glad I don’t live in your head, Max. So what are you saying? That we’re going to be dealing with kidnappings and mutinies on a regular basis?”

“Yes, that’s more or less it. I get your softly softly approach, we’re the good guys and all that. But it’s not going to work if we discover the worst. The dynamic will change. As long as there’s hope, then the passengers are passengers—customers. We’re here to protect and serve them. They paid to be here, we are in their employ. When that changes, we will become the enemy, repressors, prison guards.”

“I meant what I said to Melvin you know. If that happens, if home is gone and we are all that’s left, then there should absolutely be an election. Every passenger will have the chance to stand, to take charge. People can’t argue with a democratic process.”

“Jesus. Do you even watch the news Jake?”

“Well an elected captain will have a certain amount of authority. Obviously you can’t please everyone.”

“We’re getting away from the point here.”

“Which is?”

“Which is that before the shit hits the fan, we must beef up our security effort. Amazing as I am, there is a limit to what I can do with a team of one. I’m the Head of security, and I have one guy.”

“Ah. So this is a recruitment campaign? You want staff?”

“I need a team of people. People who are loyal to the company, to me. To you,” he added quickly.

“Anyone in mind?”

“Some of the sailors are ex-military boys, navy, know how to handle themselves, and can handle a weapon.”

“Ex-military, Max. Ex. We’re not creating a new army here, I don’t intend to see gun toting sailors prowling the decks. You’re worried about people panicking, that’s a great way to start a panic. No guns.”

“Not now maybe. But I need people who can cope if things turn ugly.”

“How many?”

“At least twelve. There should be a security presence on every deck. Twelve new guys plus Reeve, and I can cover each deck.”

“Okay, why not. You make some good points. And it will keep the sailors busy and out of trouble.”

“Good. I’ll get on it then.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes, that was all. Good night then, captain.”

“Good night Max. Remember, not an army,” he called after him. But Max was already halfway out of the door.

Jake was alone once again. He settled into the captain’s chair, and looked out to sea.

Twenty-Six

THE NIGHT PASSED by uneventfully. Melvin returned after about half an hour and informed Jake that his replacement would arrive by oh-two thirty. Jake smiled to himself when he heard that. He didn’t know if Melvin was trying to avoid a shift on the bridge alone with Lucya, or if he wanted to be around while Jake was in charge. Either way he couldn’t help but be amused.

The replacement turned up as promised. It was the only woman from the group of passengers that had been on the bridge earlier, an American by the name of Stacey Martel. She was a larger lady, in her late twenties Jake guessed, and dressed for all the world as if she were on a Caribbean cruise rather than one visiting the Arctic. Her pink flowery top, bright green shorts and orange flip-flops certainly brightened up the bridge. Stacey made no real effort to talk to Jake, who had to wait around for an extra quarter of an hour as Lucya was late. He didn’t mind, he’d already had some sleep during the day, she needed rest more than him.

Lucya and Stacey didn’t exchange a word the entire time they were alone. Lucya spent most of her watch scanning the radio waves for signs of life, but nothing had changed, she heard only static. The passenger representative simply sat and stared into space, presumably only there to make sure no decisions were being made without Melvin’s input. Within an hour she had fallen asleep, and didn’t wake again until Jake returned to the bridge just before oh-six hundred hours.

“Morning Lucya. Oh, sorry Stacey, did I wake you?”

“Morning Captain,” Lucya said. “Did you get some sleep?”

“Yes, thank you. All quiet? Anything to report?

“Radios remain dead. Nothing to report ship-wise. No calls, I’ve not heard from the others. I imagine everyone has been catching up on some rest.”

“Let’s hope so, they’re going to need it.”

Stacey pulled herself to her feet and stretched, still silent. She watched as Jake wandered over to the console, picked up the telephone and dialled a short number.

“Good morning Claude, I hope you haven’t been up the whole night? Good. Are we set for a breakfast service? Thank you Claude, you are amazing, I knew I could count on you. I’ll send someone down to collect something for the bridge if that’s okay? Thanks, I’ll catch up with you later.” He replaced the handset. “Lucya, would you mind bringing up four breakfasts?”

“Sure, no problem. I could do with stretching my legs.”

As Lucya left, Melvin returned.

“Stacey, situation report?” he said.

“Nothing to report. It was a quiet night. The captain has ordered breakfast for us.”

“Oh, sorry Stacey, not for you. I’ve ordered for the bridge crew. You’ll need to get to one of the restaurants if you want to eat.”

She glared at him, looked to Melvin, but he simply nodded. She rolled her eyes and left the two of them alone. Jake picked up the PA and spoke quietly into it.

“Good morning ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Jake Noah.The restaurants are now serving breakfast. Service will continue for one hour. There will be lunch and dinner services later today. We are hoping to set sail some time this morning, and the crew will keep you up to date with our progress. Thank you for your patience and cooperation at this difficult time.” He set down the receiver, picked up the telephone, and dialled another number. “Morning Martin, didn’t wake you I hope? Okay, sorry, only joking. How is the engine situation looking? Excellent, that’s really excellent news. I’ll wait to hear from you then.”

“I take it that means we will be able to move today?” Melvin asked.

“Yes, it sounds like it. Martin’s team worked through the night and they are going to start the engines in an hour or so. Another hour of running tests and we should be good to move off.”

There was a knock at the door. Jake opened it to Silvia, and spotted Lucya not far behind carrying a tray of food.

“Morning Silvia.”

“Good morning Captain.”

“I suggest we take breakfast while working out the details of this passenger manifest business.”

“I don’t care what we do, as long as we eat while we’re doing it,” Lucya said. “I feel like I haven’t eaten in a week.”

Lucya set down the tray on the table, and the four of them dug in to meagre rations of cereal, bread and jam, and orange juice.

“Claude’s using up the fresh milk with the cereal. He’s using it in all of today’s meals so he can switch off one of the big refrigerators,” Lucya said.

Jake opened a drawer and pulled out some Spirit of Arcadia headed writing paper and a couple of pens. He handed one to Silvia and kept one for himself.

“So the manifest,” he said.

“I thought it was a census?”

“It is, but we’re going to stick with calling it a manifest. I just think it’s less confrontational and controversial that way.”

“Have you got something to hide from the passengers?” Melvin asked.

“Not at all. I just think that if we call it a census then people are going to automatically think that we’re planning for the worst. That this is it, life stuck on this ship for who knows how long.”

“But that’s the case. You are planning for that. That’s the whole point of the census as I understand it. Lying about what you are doing isn’t the right way to go about this. If you want cooperation from people, you’d better start being honest with them. I say we call it a census.”

“Silvia? What do you think?” Jake was trying to ignore Lucya’s grimaces.

“I think Mr Sherwood has a point. Just because we are seen to be preparing for the worst, doesn’t mean we expect it.”

“Right, I see. I’m outnumbered then.”

“Er, no your not,” Lucya chipped in. “I say we call it a manifest. And what about the others? Don’t they get a say?”

“We haven’t got time,” Jake said. “We need to get this done. Okay, we’ll call it what it is. The advantage is that we can ask more questions. So, a list of the questions. Bearing in mind this needs to be done quickly, we mustn’t get carried away. Obviously we need full name, date of birth, and occupation.”

“Date of birth?” Melvin looked skeptical. “Intrusive, isn’t it?”

“If we have to put people to work, then knowing their age is important. We can’t be assigning heavy lifting jobs to pensioners. We may also need to think about education for the children. Speaking of which, nationality and country of residence should be noted too.”

Melvin nodded.

“Useful skills,” Silvia said. “We may as well come out and say it. If there are people on board with useful skills, we need to know. We could dress it up as hobbies or interests, but nobody ever tells the truth about those, they make stuff up that makes them sound interesting or intelligent.”

“Alright, that’s enough to be going on with. So how do we deal with this, I mean logistically?” Jake scratched his head, the thought of trying to canvass nearly three thousand people in a day was a lot to cope with so early, and on such a light breakfast.

“We send people to their cabins between lunch and dinner services,” Lucya said. “Passengers and crew. The only people with good reason to be out of their cabin should be people like the engineers, some of the sailors, obviously the bridge staff. And then we do all the decks simultaneously. Get it over with quickly.”

“I’m assuming the housekeeping team will be the best for the job? They go to every cabin every day anyway,” Jake addressed the question at Silvia, and couldn’t help but think back to the photograph of Tania, tied up and gagged. Melvin had assured him that she was now being treated properly, but he still couldn’t help wondering if that was true.

“Yes, they’re all twiddling their thumbs now. But for them it will be more or less like a regular day, pop into each cabin, but ask questions instead of clean. They should easily get the job done in the afternoon.”

“Keeping passengers locked up all afternoon is a bit much,” Melvin looked agitated. “Why not let them out once they’ve done their questionnaire?”

“Because having people wandering around the ship mid-census will cause confusion,” Jake said. “And those who get processed last are not going to be happy about waiting the longest while others are free to go wherever.”

“Why even put them in their cabins? Why not issue questionnaires during a meal service, have people hand them back when they’re done?”

“Because I don’t want families inventing children they don’t have, in order to get extra meal rations. No, every person who goes on the list must be seen in person by a crew member.”

“You have a lot of faith in your crew Mr Noah,” Melvin snarled. “How do you know they won’t invent passengers to claim extra meals for themselves?”

“I don’t, I have to trust them. But I would point out they are already trusted to clean your cabin every day without stealing your belongings.”

“That’s different, the rules have changed. This is about life or death now.”

“Forgive me,” Silvia cut in. “If I’m not mistaken, the passenger manifest didn’t actually get destroyed, did it? That was just going to be a cover story, before we agreed not to dress this census up as something else.”

“That’s right. But we still need to update it so we know who survived. Right now we don’t know how many are on the ship, and how many jumped,” Jake didn’t know why he felt he was on the defensive, Silvia was on his side.

“I understand. But if we have a passenger list, then the crew doing the census can’t invent new passengers, can they? Because we have the means to find out.”

“In that case, neither can the passengers,” Melvin said. “So why don’t we just hand out questionnaires like I suggested?”

“Because,” Silvia said, “the housekeeping team can issue meal passes on the spot. They visit a cabin, do the questions, issue the pass, job done. If we leave questionnaires in the restaurant, someone has to process them afterwards, then find the passengers to hand out the passes. It really is easier this way. Speaking of the passes Jake, how do we do those?”

“We’ve got working computers and printers, right?”

“Yes.”

“So we print up numbered passes on headed paper. Issue them to your team, they hand them out to passengers and note the numbers on the completed questionnaires. Then we make up lists for each restaurant, to divide the passengers and crew between them. When a passenger claims a meal, they show their pass, and their number is checked against the list.”

“Claude won’t like it, it’s a lot of extra work for his people, but yes it sounds like it should work. I think we’ll have to have two sittings for each meal, we can’t fit everyone in in one go.”

“Why the emphasis on passengers?” Melvin asked. “What about crew, they’re subject to rations too, right?”

“Of course,” Jake said. Melvin was annoying him. “Crew eat in the crew cafe.”

The four of them worked out a few final details about how crew members doing the census would themselves be canvassed, as well as other staff who wouldn’t be able to return to their cabins. When they were happy that the plan was good, Silvia left to start work on printing up questionnaires and meal passes, and to organise her team. Jake put out another PA call informing everyone aboard that there was to be a census. He emphasised that it was mainly to help plan the food rationing. Everyone was to be in their cabin by fourteen thirty, and once the operation was complete, which was expected to be before the evening meal service at twenty hundred hours, an announcement would be made.