Текст книги "Noah's Ark: Survivors"

Автор книги: Harry Dayle

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Thirty-One

LARISSA KNOCKED AT the door to cabin 854. She carried a wide bag over her left shoulder, and a folder under her right arm. The arm was aching from writing, and she decided that whoever was inside 854 was going to fill in the form themselves.

There was a click of a bolt turning, and the door opened inwards.

“About bloody time,” the man inside said.

Larissa closed her eyes for a second, told herself to remain calm. “Good afternoon, I’m Larissa, I’m here to complete the passenger census.”

“Well get a bloody move on will you. We’ve been stuck in this cabin four bloody hours. Just as this ship starts to go somewhere, we’re stuck in here.”

“Give it a rest Ken,” a woman’s voice called from inside. “The poor girl has probably had just as long an afternoon.”

Larissa walked into the cabin. It was one of the larger ones, a full suite. She was standing in the sitting room. Opposite her was a huge balcony with a spectacular view of the ocean. There was a plush sofa and two arm chairs arranged around a low mahogany coffee table. Larissa had polished that table on many occasions, it seemed strange for her to be here in another capacity.

“Do sit down dear, and I apologise for my husband. It’s not as if he can’t appreciate the view from here.”

“Thank you. This won’t take long, there are only a few questions.”

The three of them sat down, Ken taking the sofa. Larissa opened the thick file she had been carrying and split the papers inside into two piles. One pile, slightly dog-eared and untidy, went back into the folder. The other pile comprised blank sheets. She peeled off the top two sheets and handed one each to the couple. From the shoulder bag she produced two black ballpoint pens which she set down on the table.

“I need you to fill in your full names, dates of birth, nationality, country of residence, and occupation, all in the boxes as shown. Underneath, please fill in any skills you may have, and anything else you think might be useful to the community if,” even after repeating the instructions countless times throughout the afternoon, she still found herself hesitating at this point, “if this community is all that survives of mankind and we have to start over.”

“Don’t you worry dear, we’re on the move again, look!” The woman pointed to the balcony and the ocean beyond. “The captain says we’re going to find a safe harbour.”

“Oh Tracy, you know as well as I do that’s just lip service. We’re heading for land alright, and when we get there we’re going to see what everyone knows full well; that the bloody asteroid has destroyed everything.”

Tracy blinked away tears. “I don’t believe it Ken. I won’t believe it.”

“Um, if you could just fill out the forms?” Larissa was growing impatient. She had seen this same scene played out in countless cabins. In nearly every family or couple she had visited, most were in denial. Most couldn’t accept the fact the world had ended, that this was all that was left. The ‘community’ question promoted the same argument, time after time. She just wanted this to be over.

For a few minutes the only sounds were the scratching of pens on paper, and the sound of water crashing against the side of the ship, clearly audible through the open balcony door.

“Well, I don’t think I have anything to offer in the way of skills,” Ken was sitting back sucking on the end of his pen.

“You’re pretty good at painting and decorating,” Tracy said.

“That’s hardly a skill, is it? Anyone can do a bit of painting and decorating. I think they’re looking more for carpenters, stone masons, people who can build a town.”

“Actually, painting and decorating would be great. If you’ve done any of that, please, write it down.” Larissa wanted to scream out to put anything down, just hurry up and finish.

Ken scrawled a few words, considered what he had written, and handed back the page.

“What are you writing? You haven’t got that many skills!” Ken snorted at his wife.

“I have many hidden talents Kenneth. Mind you, not as many as you. Like being able to pay for a luxury suite on a cruise liner on a teacher’s salary.”

“Yes, well, we’re not here to talk about that.”

“Sorry, teacher?” Larissa’s ears pricked up. “Could you list the subjects you teach? That would be very useful.” She handed back the paper and pen.

Ken sighed heavily, and started writing once more. Tracy handed her page to Larissa, who scanned through it quickly, then folded over the bottom and tore it off carefully. She rifled through the folder and extracted a page on which were written a long list of numbers. One of the numbers corresponded to that on the slip of paper she had torn off. Against it, she wrote “Tracy Frampton”.

“This is your meal ration voucher,” she handed the paper back to Tracy. “You’ve been assigned to the Nautilus restaurant for your meals, second sitting. You’ll need to present the voucher at each service. Please don’t lose it, no voucher means no meal.”

“My mum used to tell me stories about rationing during the war,” Tracy looked wistful. “I never thought I’d experience it first hand.”

Ken finished his list and handed back his page. Larissa repeated the same exercise, returning his voucher to him.

“Second sitting, pah!” He didn’t look impressed. “So we get the leftovers. Probably cold ones at that.”

“Everyone gets the same rations Mr Frampton, there’s no preferential treatment for the first sitting I can assure you.” Larissa got to her feet. “Thank you for your time. If you could remain in your cabin until an announcement is made, it will make our job much easier.”

“So we don’t have to stay? We’re free to leave?” Ken jumped to his feet.

“I can’t force you to stay here, but it really will make things go a lot quicker if you do.”

Larissa went to let herself our. At the door she took one last look at the plush suite. A thought ran through her head. If they were all doomed to live on this ship because the planet was scorched, why should people like Ken get to live in such luxury? He’d paid for a cruise, for sure. But what gave him the right to stay here in this room in another weeks time, when the cruise was supposed to have finished? And another week after that? And after that? What right did anyone have to any particular accommodation any more, if they were now a ‘community’ of survivors?

Thirty-Two

“THIS IS THE captain. I would like to personally thank everyone on board for their cooperation during the census this afternoon. The survey has been completed, and you are free to leave your cabins. Dinner service first sitting will be beginning shortly. Thank you.”

Jake replaced the handset and walked over to Lucya’s station. She was deep in discussion with Dave, both intensively studying a chart.

“How long until we see land?” Jake asked.

Lucya looked up. “I think we should already be able to see something. Dave thinks I’m wrong.”

“If you’re not wrong, then why can’t we see anything?”

“Because I think we’re in the wrong place.”

Jake looked confused. Lucya put her hand on his back and steered him round the table to better see the map.

“Look, I think we should be here. In which case, we should be able to see that,” she pointed at the land mass. “But we can’t. So we’re not where we should be.”

“Not where we should be if we go by out original calculations,” Dave interjected. “But my point is that those calculations are no longer valid. Which means we can’t base our position on them. So we are where we should be, we just don’t know where we should be!”

“Right now I’m utterly confused,” Jake said scratching his head. “What’s wrong with the calculations?”

“May I?” Dave looked questioningly at Lucya.

She shrugged her shoulders. “Sure, why not? It’s your theory, you explain it.”

“When Lucya calculated the route, she took into account the currents. Standard practice, they either carry the boat along or they push against us slowing us up.”

“Yes, thank you for the navigation one-oh-one David. Even I remember that much!” Jake looked put out.

“Sorry, of course. But I think the currents have changed. I don’t know how, but it seems like the asteroid changed something. Maybe the heat, or the quantity of ash falling on the ocean, I’m not a scientist, I’m really out of my depth here. But I’m sure the currents changed, and if I’m right then our calculations are void. We’re either not as far along on our course as we think, which would explain why we can’t see a big chunk of land anywhere on the horizon, or…”

“Or…?”

“Or we’re totally off course altogether. We’ll know in another fifteen minutes when we can take some more accurate bearings. But gut feel? I’d say we’re on course, just running behind.”

“How do you know the currents have changed?” Jake asked suddenly, the question popping into his head.

Dave blushed. “Because our fuel consumption is worse than expected.”

Jake looked around, wanted to make sure nobody else was listening. Pedro was busy keeping lookout, and Melvin was falling asleep in his chair.

“How did you know that? I didn’t talk to anyone but Martin about that!”

“I’ve got a mate down in engineering. He called to ask if I knew why we were burning fuel so quickly. He said Martin did the calculations and he never gets them wrong. So I thought about it, and this is the only thing that makes sense.”

“Any way to know for sure?”

“Not while we’re moving. We could come to a full stop and drop some measuring equipment over the side, but as we’ll know in the next quarter of an hour anyway, that idea seems redundant.”

Jake sighed. “Okay, well keep me posted. As soon as there’s anything new, I want to know.”

“You’ll see it at the same time as us,” Lucya said. “If Dave’s right, you’ll see a big lump of land out that window quite soon.”

• • • • •

Fifteen minutes later there was a loud “whoop!” from the navigation station. Jake looked over to see Dave beaming from ear to ear.

“Report?”

“Sir, I was right sir!” came the reply.

Lucya’s face was thunder. “I can confirm we are on course and should see land within the next few minutes.”

Jake stood up and walked over to the front facing floor to ceiling window that ran the length of the bridge. He picked up a pair of binoculars and slowly adjusted them, bringing the horizon into sharp focus. It was a grey blur. No sign of land. No sign of ash, either. It turned out the fears of floating ash islands had been without basis. They had passed some patches of the stuff, thin layers floating on the surface like seaweed, or the islands of plastic garbage that they often saw in the Pacific. But it hadn’t coalesced into rocks, or if it had, those rocks had sunk without a trace.

“Land ahead!” Pedro called.

Jake adjusted his binoculars again. He still couldn’t see anything, just a mass of grey. Were his eyes getting old? Could he trust his own vision? He was beginning to wonder when, right on the horizon, part of the grey appeared to thicken, and then solidify. As he watched, it began to take shape, to form into something with real mass. There was no doubt about it, there really was land ahead.

He walked over to the communications console where he swapped the binoculars for a headset. A thin microphone grew out of the right hand earpiece and curled round under his nose. He pressed a button marked “Channel 7”.

“This is Max.”

“Max, it’s Jake. We’re seeing land ahead. You’d better brief your men, people are going to get excited when they see this. Who knows how they’ll react or what they’ll do.”

“Okay, thanks for the heads up.”

“Max, how’s your new lad doing?”

“Flynn? Yeah, he seems to be a good man. Committed. Good with people.”

“Can you assign him to deck ten? Or do you have specific plans for him?”

“Sherwood wants him floating about all over the place, but honestly that’s just a pain. I can stick him on ten. Why?”

“Just thinking if there are any more passenger revolts, having a cone patrolling around here might help.”

“You expecting trouble?”

“I don’t know. I just think that when they see land, a lot of people are going to want to try and get off…”

“No problem, I’ll station him on ten. Any sign of trouble I’ll call you on the radio.”

Jake pulled off the headset and set it down carefully.

Over at the navigation station, Lucya and Dave were busily working the radar, fine tuning the course.

“How are we doing time wise?” Jake asked.

“Another hour or so and we will pull level with Spitsbergen island.” Lucya didn’t look up from the radar as she spoke. “Then, we slow down. It’s rocky out there, we can’t take chances. We have to circumnavigate Spitsbergen and Prince Charles Foreland, then sail up the Isfjorden. We’re lucky, at this time of year there will be a lot less ice around, but Pedro is still going to have his work cut out.”

A knock at the door, and Silvia entered with more trays of food. The crew settled down to eat, Pedro and Jake taking turns to keep a lookout, and Lucya and Dave alternately manning the radar. By the time everyone had finished their dinner, land was very clearly visible on the port side. Jake tried to get a better look with his binoculars, but the rocky archipelago was so desolate and inhospitable that is was impossible to tell if it was covered in asteroid ash, or was an untouched snowy wasteland.

“I think it’s time to get some rest. Lucya, you can take first watch. You’re in command, I’ll replace you at oh-three hundred hours. Dave, you’re taking a break, get some sleep. Pedro?”

“Yes Captain?”

“Can you find someone to take over from you? I need you rested and alert when we enter the fjord.”

“Of course Captain.”

“Be back here at oh-three hundred. Melvin, you organise yourself and Stacy however you want.”

Jake looked around at his reduced crew. They were holding up well, all things considered. He himself felt dead on his feet, and he knew the others must be equally exhausted, more so even. But none of them complained. Even Melvin had held his tongue for most of the afternoon.

He walked slowly back to his cabin, passing Captain Ibsen’s quarters on the way. Lucya has asked him why he hadn’t moved in there, but after what had happened in those rooms, he had no desire ever to return. And anyway, with four or five hours of sleep a night, any cabin was more than adequate for his needs. He kicked off his shoes, undressed, and fell into bed. He was asleep within seconds.

Thirty-Three

FLYNN BAKEMAN WAS wandering the corridors of deck ten. He couldn’t have been happier to have been stationed near the bridge. Max hadn’t given him any specifics about why he’d been moved up here, but he could guess. Any passenger action would target the bridge. Flynn was in exactly the right place to assist any such approach.

A group of passengers were headed towards him, talking among themselves excitedly. They were two young couples and three children, two girls and a boy. The children were chasing each other round the legs of their parents, the adults didn’t seem to mind. One of the women spotted Flynn and hurried over. He’d been issued with a crew jacket, complete with a badge that labelled him as security.

“Hey there, how you doing honey?” the woman spoke to Flynn as if she’d know him for years.

“Just fine thank you, just fine. And what can I do for you fine people?”

By now the rest of the group had joined them.

“We were all wondering, like, we saw the land outside.” She pointed vaguely in the direction of the exterior, although in this windowless passageway it wasn’t easy to be sure of one’s bearings. “So, are we, like, going to be stopping any time soon? Because we love the cruise ship and all, but we would really like to get off soon.”

“Ah, well. Now, I’m not supposed to tell you this, but only a few people are getting off when we get to where we’re going.”

“Where are we going? Nobody has told us anything about that!” one of the men in the group asked, indignantly.

“Well, again, I’m not supposed to say. I’m not even supposed to know. I don’t work for the cruise line you see, I’m a regular passenger like you, just helping out because they need my expertise and experience. But I figure everyone has a right to know what’s going on, so I’m going to tell you good people anyway.”

The small group looked surprised at this news, and nodded, conspiratorially.

“Okay, well, we’re going to Svalbard.”

The blank looks told Flynn he needed to elaborate.

“It’s an archipelago, a group of islands. It’s really just rock and ice, and a few abandoned mines. There’s nothing there.”

“Well what the hell are we doing going to a place like that?” someone cried. “We need to be going home!”

“I agree, honestly I do. But between you and me, the captain? He’s not up to the job. The regular captain didn’t make it, got killed by that dust cloud. Even the second in command is gone. So we’re left with this kid running the show. He’s done exams and crap like that, but he don’t know shit about running a cruise ship. ‘Scuse me,” he added. The children giggled.

“We need to do something” one the men said. He had remained silent until then.

“Hell yeah, you can’t have a kid in charge in a crisis!” said the other man.

“Oh don’t worry, we are doing something,” Flynn said, seriously. “Once we dock, and we see what’s out there—which, by the way, is probably nothing at all—then we’re going to have the captain replaced.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“The Passenger Alliance. We’re a group of passengers who aren’t happy about the way this ship has been run these last two days. We’ve had some success already. We got our top man in there on the bridge, keeping an eye on what’s going on. And honestly, if you knew some of what he’s seen? Incompetence on a scale you wouldn’t believe.”

“Oh, hey we heard him speak before, didn’t we honey?”

“That’s right. Melvin someone? But how’s that going to help? He sounds like he’s just a spy.”

“He’s much more than that,” Flynn grinned. “We have a personal assurance from the captain that there will be an election to choose someone new to run this ship. I mean, we all have a right to decide, right? We all have to live on this ship, so we should be able to choose a leader.”

“Damn right!” one of the men said. The women glared at him, but said nothing.

“So when the election comes, and it will be soon, I can count on you guys to vote for Melvin?”

“Er, I dunno.” One couple still didn’t look convinced. “How do we know he’ll be any better? I mean, this kid captain, at least he’s got some training. That’s gotta be worth something, right?”

“Yeah, but Melvin’s got experience. He’s managed big teams of people around the world. He’s worked in disaster zones, he’s been flown in to organise rescue teams and clean up operations after natural disasters. He might not have fancy certificates and all that, but he’s got experience. He can lead us out of this mess, take us home. Keep us safe.”

“Well he’s got my vote honey,” the first woman said, and the others nodded, although not with any degree if enthusiasm.

“You’re making a wise choice. Melvin is our man. Tell others too! It’s hard for me, you know, they made me wear this uniform, try and turn me into one of them. People, they don’t always like to talk to the crew. See? Just another way they are manipulating and controlling us. So tell your friends; there is an election coming, and Melvin is our man.”

Thirty-Four

THE SECOND NIGHT aboard Spirit of Arcadia following the asteroid, was as quiet as the first for the bridge crew. Jake was woken by his alarm at 2:45am, and made it back to the bridge just on time. Lucya disappeared off for some well earned sleep. Dave and Pedro returned to their posts as well. The ship had slowed considerably as it navigated the perilous waters around Prince Charles Foreland. Lucya had made the call that they shouldn’t arrive at the fjord too early, it would be safer to make that last part of the voyage during the day. Not for the added light, this far north and at this time of year it was light virtually twenty four hours a day. It was more to do with having a slightly bigger crew on hand. Going slower overnight was a cautious move, but the right one, Jake agreed.

Lucya returned at eight in the morning, just as Silvia brought up breakfast for everyone.

“Silvia, you’re an angel,” Jake said. “But you must have more important things to do than wait on the bridge crew?”

“Apart from collating the results of the census, I don’t have a lot to worry about. With the water rations, we can’t clean the cabins, so the housekeeping team are redundant. The bars and cafes are all closed, and Claude is managing the restaurants in the way only Claude can.”

“What’s Barry up to? I haven’t seen him since yesterday morning.” Jake felt a pang of guilt that he hadn’t caught up with some of the senior staff in twenty four hours.

“Barry is being amazing,” Silvia said with a twinkle in her eye. “We’ve next to no water, everything is rationed, and only the most basic services have power. Even so he’s somehow keeping a program of entertainment running. I swear that man could motivate an army single handedly. He’s got his team running events all over the ship, taking people’s minds off what lies ahead. There’s kids bingo going on in the theatre. The prizes are tours of the engine room. One of the engineers salvaged some solar panels from the burnt out tender and has hooked them up to get the projector in the cinema going. They’re showing films all day and the place is packed out. The cafes might be closed, but there’s a poker tournament running in three of them. It’s proving popular with the older passengers. And the sports instructors are running a whole host of events in the gym now that Grau has cleared out and moved back down to medical. They’re such a great team, they haven’t left me with anything to worry about.”

“Wow, it sounds almost like people are enjoying themselves,” Jake was impressed.

“Most people are, I think. There’s still the feeling that we’ve been spared, that we got away with something. I don’t know how that will change though, now we’re getting closer to land. It looks quite bleak out there.”

Jake and Silvia looked out at the approaching coastline. They were turning in, towards the gaping mouth of the fjord. The landscape was still featureless. Rocks, jagged hills streaked with snow. Or was it ash? They wouldn’t know until they got closer. No signs of life whatsoever. But that was to be expected, this far north settlements were few and far between.

As the land grew ever nearer, the atmosphere on the bridge became increasingly tense. It had only been five days since they were last docked, but it might as well have been five million years ago, so much was unknown. The answers were coming, as metre by metre they closed the distance to Svalbard.

Jake was keeping a keen eye on the terrain. He didn’t like what he saw. “Look,” he pointed ahead. Lucya and Dave followed the line of his finger. He passed the binoculars to Lucya. “It’s hard to tell on the rock, but it looks like ash. And the hills. They’re streaked with snow, but it’s weird. It’s patchy, pockmarked. You’d expect it to be smooth, nobody ever comes here.”

“You think it’s the ash?” Dave was squinting, trying to see with the naked eye.

“Yes. It looks like it’s simply melted away the snow in places. If the ash cloud passed over, it would have done that.”

“So why is there still some there? I mean, that is snow, right? It’s too white to be ash.”

“It was probably thicker in some places. The hot ash would have met the snow and cooled. Where the snow was thin, it melted away and we can see the scars.”

On the forward decks below, people were gathering outside, eagerly watching the approaching land. Before long they was passing Prince Charles Foreland, or Prinks Karls Forland as it was officially named on the nautical charts. A long, thin, black and green rocky island, it looked like the spine of a giant sea monster rising up out of the water. Jake had heard stories of the loch Ness monster in Scotland, and could imagine that the strange outcrop was a huge Nessie, petrified and turned to stone. By now, the ash on the lower lying outcrops was clear for all to see. It was only a thin dusting, but the winds whipped it up into the air, tossed it around, and made swirling grey eddies that reminded Jake of flocking starlings. Where it fell, it amassed into wavelike drifts.

• • • • •

It took them another thirty minutes of slow cruising to reach the mouth of the Isfjorden fiord. Six kilometres wide at its narrowest point, it was a gigantic natural harbour. As the Spirit of Arcadia slipped between the barren land on either side, Jake felt like an explorer venturing into a new and undiscovered territory. The sea was calm here. The land that encircled them was low, but further from the sea it swept up into huge dark mountains. It was as if some giant hand had scooped the fjord out of the landscape.

“It’s so quiet,” Silvia said. She had remained on the bridge for the morning, enjoying the best view on board. “No birds. Why are there no birds?”

Nobody answered her. Nobody wanted to imagine why.

“We should see Barentsburg before long,” Lucya said. “To the starboard side.”

They kept looking, but didn’t see the small Russian mining community. Just ash.

Nobody mentioned it. Nobody wanted to think about where it had gone.

• • • • •

After what seemed an age, the radar indicated it was time to make the final turn for Longyearbyen. The charts showed that Svalbard airport was located on the flat piece of land to the inside of a ninety degree turn to starboard. The view from the bridge suggested otherwise. There was no trace of any airport buildings, vehicles, or aircraft. Certainly the topography was right, there was no doubt they were looking in the right direction, but there was no sign of life or civilisation.

Jake was at the helm, piloting the ship the last few kilometres to the town. Pedro was not as busy as he had expected. In the relative warmth of June there were no icy hazards floating in the fjord. He was trying to locate the harbour visually, to confirm what the radar was telling them. They had slowed to a crawl, and as they cut through the flat calm blue green water, they created virtually no wake. At this low speed the engine seemed paradoxically louder, the only sound to be heard as they glided through the valley.

“Full stop!” Jake cried automatically, then remembered he was in control. Nobody seemed to notice, they were too preoccupied with the scene outside. It was clear that they had arrived, but Longyearbyen had gone.

Where the town should have been, was ash. Not just the ash from the asteroid, but the ash of burnt buildings. The stubby charred remains of wooden houses rose out of the ground like gravestones. Where once had stood brick buildings, now there were piles of rubble and dust. From the ship they were too far to see the whole town, but nobody was in any doubt that the rest of the settlement had been destroyed too.

“I can’t see the pier,” Pedro said, sweeping the bay with his binoculars.

“It’s not very big,” Lucya called back from the map table. She had a large scale chart of the archipelago and was cross referencing it with the radar screen. “Maybe fifty meters across, tiny really.”

“Are you sure we’re in the right place?”

“There’s really no doubt. Any further and we’ll be grounded. The pier must be there. Jake, I think you’ll have to just approach sideways on. Cross your fingers until we get eyes on the pier and can guide you in properly.”

Jake nodded. He set about manipulating the controls at the helm, diverting the power from the engines to the bow thrusters. The Spirit of Arcadia was a modern cruiser, made to be easily manoeuvrable in the smallest ports. Even so, crabbing into a mooring was always a delicate operation. The ship began to crawl nearer the ruined village, slower than walking pace.

They covered several hundred metres before Pedro spotted something.

“Stop! Stop the ship!”

Jake prodded some buttons and the engine note rose as the thrusters spun up in reverse, arresting the drift coastwards. “You see the pier?” he called over to his lookout.

“Yes and no,” Pedro said. “I see some of the pier. It’s in the water. The pier is destroyed. We cannot dock here.”