Текст книги "Noah's Ark: Contagion"

Автор книги: Harry Dayle

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Two

“ERICA? ARE YOU outside, Erica? Come on, Daddy needs to talk to you, darling!”

There was no response. The usually busy corridor lay silent. This last week it had reminded Scott of the East End street in which he had grown up as a boy, with people coming and going in and out of each other’s cabins, sharing gossip and rumours. A real little community. The kids played together in safety. Unlike the East End, nothing bad could happen to them here. There were no bogeymen waiting to swipe them off the street, no speeding motorcycles to knock them over. The only danger was boredom. The simply decorated cream and pastel-blue walls and brown carpet held little excitement, but children had a way of using their imaginations to change their surroundings. The previous day a group of them had decided that they were on a train journey across America. They had ploughed up and down that length of corridor for hours, stopping every now and then to let ‘passengers’ on and off as various members of the gang either returned to their cabins, or came out to join in the game.

Now there was nobody. Scott knew where they had gone. Everyone was outside, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of land now that they were finally on the move again.

Erica had told him she would stay close by. She was with Andrea, and she’d assured him they wouldn’t go further than her friend’s cabin up the hall. He couldn’t be cross with her; he would have gone outside too. Except right now he couldn’t go anywhere, and that was the problem.

His feet had turned to lead, and he was losing the feeling in the lower half of his legs.

At first he had assumed it was pins and needles, just as his daughter had experienced the day before. He had tried shaking the life back into his limbs, but his efforts were futile. Standing was impossible; without feeling, he couldn’t balance. After half an hour of waiting it out he realised they probably weren’t going to get better by themselves, and that medical assistance would be a good idea. The budget cabin was not equipped with a telephone; he needed his daughter to fetch help.

“Erica, sweetie? Daddy’s not cross with you, I just want you to help me with something. Are you there?”

He made a decision. If she didn’t come back within the hour, he would have to try and drag himself to the medical centre. Quite literally.

• • •

Jake stared out of the wide opening. HMS Ambush’s conning tower seemed a long way away. The makeshift ramp that the engineering team had rigged up looked flimsy at the best of times, and now that both vessels were moving, it looked even more perilous. The connection had been made from a flexible telescopic walkway that was normally used by passengers getting on and off when docked in a port. On the Spirit of Arcadia side, the walkway was securely fixed with special bolts, just the way it was designed. The far end had been lashed to the submarine’s tower with a complex array of ropes, knots, chains, and who knew what else. Martin had told him it was done in such a way that it would detach easily should the two boats become separated. This had not filled Jake with confidence; he had no intention of taking a swim. It was all well and good the ramp being attached to the deck two exit, but that was still higher than he wished to fall should the thing fail.

They were not travelling particularly fast; the reactor in the navy vessel wasn’t designed to power and propel a cruise ship as well as perform its regular duty and they didn’t wish to stress it. Even so, when he stepped out onto the walkway the wind slapped and whipped at him with unexpected ferocity.

“Come on, old boy, we’ll be upon that signal before you get across!” Coote bellowed from behind him, laughing heartily as he did so.

“This is bad enough when we’re not moving. I feel like I’m about to walk the plank!” Jake gulped a huge breath of salty air and stepped forward with faux confidence. Once he got going it was easier to continue. He didn’t look down, or behind him, but kept his eyes fixed on the submariner guarding the hatch at the top of the giant fin. The man was a true professional; if he found Jake’s fear amusing, he didn’t let it show.

“Welcome aboard HMS Ambush, Captain,” he said, giving Jake a hand getting up over the lip of the tower.

“Thank you.” He hesitated, searching for the name, “Brian, isn’t it?”

“Yes sir, Brian, sir.”

The sound of footsteps thumping along the walkway caused both men to look up. Brian immediately stood to attention.

“At ease, Able Seaman Thomas,” Coote said, grinning from ear to ear. “I must say, Jake, I know you’re not a fan, but I think this arrangement is marvellous! Visiting your ship is like popping into town for a coffee and some shopping. So convenient. Just imagine, if we find more survivors out there, we could end up with a virtual floating village! Well don’t just stand there, old boy, let’s get inside and see where we’re headed.”

Jake smiled. Gibson Coote was an acquired taste, but universally liked and admired by his crew, and he could see why. He ran a tight ship based on mutual respect. With many of his sailors now taking what Coote jokingly called ‘shore leave’ on the cruise ship, Jake had initially wondered if that closeness and loyalty might be eroded, but nothing of the sort had happened. If anything, Coote’s crew appeared to be pulling together to form an even stronger team, bound by a desire to work for the good of the combined population.

The two captains descended the ladder into the labyrinthine hull of the submarine. Jake wasn’t a tall man, but on the few occasions he had been aboard he found himself automatically bowing his head as he walked through the narrow steel passageways, claustrophobic cabins, and working areas. Despite the abundance of lighting, it still took his eyes a few minutes to adjust to the dim and shadowy conditions.

Everything about the Ambush was a stark contrast to the Spirit of Arcadia. Where the cruise ship was light, airy, and spacious, the submarine was dark, stuffy, and confined. There was no place for the plush carpeted and richly decorated communal areas of Jake’s ship. Instead, every square centimetre of space was used, often for multiple functions. Food was stored everywhere; under beds, between pipes, even—Jake was told, although he hadn’t been allowed to see for himself—in the torpedo tubes. The officers on the cruiser often complained that their cabins were pokey, but compared to conditions below the surface, they were positively palatial. Most of the Ambush’s crew, with the exception of Coote and some of the senior ratings, were expected to hot bunk, time-sharing accommodation with one submariner sleeping in a bed while the other was on shift, then switching over. And while those on board the ship enjoyed a choice of restaurants and a selection of bars and cafes, as well as a crew canteen, the Ambush had to make do with two tiny and starkly furnished messes, one for junior ratings, the other for the seniors. In this new world though, the Ambush had the upper hand. Used to living frugally, their menu had hardly changed. Everyone on board the Spirit of Arcadia, Jake included, was having to get used to rations, which meant meagre portions three times a day.

Coote led Jake through the maze of tunnel-like passages to the communications control room in the heart of the submarine.

“Hey, Jake, good to see you, man!”

“Hi, Ralf, you too. How’s the signal looking?”

“See for yourself.” Lieutenant Ralf Cormack shifted sideways, letting Jake get a good view of one of his monitors. He was Lucya’s opposite number on the submarine, an ace hacker and communications expert. “We’re about twenty minutes out. The signal is very weak. I agree with Officer Levin’s analysis. It’s most likely a lifeboat or raft.”

Jake smiled. He couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride at the mention of Lucya’s name. “How long before we can see it on that fancy photonics mast of yours?”

“Depends how big it is. Probably ten or fifteen minutes. Eagle-eyes is keeping a lookout.

Eagle-eyes was Communications Officer Jason Fletcher, renowned for his ability to make sense of even the grainiest and most out-of-focus images. He turned and grinned at Jake.

“They’ll see us first. This is a new experience for us; we’re more used to creeping up on people! Difficult to be discreet with a thirteen-deck cruise ship in tow.”

“Excellent. Well we have a little bit of time. Captain Noah, would you accompany me to my cabin? There’s a private matter we need to discuss.” Coote gestured for Jake to follow him, and he disappeared into a small room almost hidden between two banks of beige computers.

“Close the door behind you, would you? Thank you, old boy.” Coote sat down at a tiny desk. Jake took the only other chair, facing the captain.

“Is everything alright, Coote? You sound concerned?”

“Yes, yes, everything is good. Fine and dandy. But there is a serious matter we need to discuss. I mentioned to you that we have standing orders to return to our base in Scotland should an event of this nature occur. That is to say, an unforeseen event of the catastrophic kind. Those are not the only standing orders we have. The Admiralty have, I am told, planned for all sorts of eventualities, some rather more farfetched than others I imagine. In any case, only two people have access to these orders. They are contained in a safe, in this room. Let me show you.”

Behind Coote, covering one entire wall of the cabin, was a dark wood-panelled unit. The one time Jake had been in the room previously, he hadn’t really been in any state to have noticed. He had assumed it to be a wardrobe, but now saw that in addition to the two full-height doors, there were drawers and more, smaller doors. Coote turned a little key in one of these, and pulled it open to reveal the safe.

“In here, it is my belief that there is information about one or more secret military bases. Every submarine in the British navy is issued with the same documents, and to my knowledge, nobody has ever had reason to open them. In the event of all out nuclear war, total destruction of the country, that sort of thing, we are to open these plans and proceed to one of the bases.”

“So why are we heading for Scotland? Surely after the asteroid it’s time to open the plans? Those bases could be stocked with food, supplies, everything we need.”

“Maybe. Or maybe just enough to keep a submarine crew or two alive for long enough to wait out the fallout of a nuclear strike. Either way, our primary instruction is to proceed to the primary base in Scotland. Only if that is no longer possible, or has been destroyed, should we open these final orders.”

“Why are you telling me this, Coote?”

“Because like I told you, there are only two people who have access to this safe. Myself, and Ralf. As long as I continue to make entries in the captain’s log, this safe will only open when I enter my personal code on this keypad.” He pointed to the numbered buttons on the safe door. “If I fail to make any log entries for three consecutive days, the safe will then accept Ralf’s code.”

“Sounds like they thought of everything,” Jake said, still not seeing where this was going.

“Right. They do love to plan, those Admiralty boys. Comes from not getting out much, not seeing any real action. They have to dream about it instead. But I digress. Given that so many lives, perhaps even all remaining human lives, now depend directly on the survival of this submarine, it seems to me that only having two people with the ability to open this safe is rather conservative. Should anything happen to myself and Ralf, these plans, and the bases that I believe they offer access to, will remain forever unread.”

“Oh I don’t know, I reckon Martin and his team would find a way into that safe eventually.”

“Your confidence in your chief engineer is admirable, but in this instance, misplaced. This isn’t just a hunk of metal. Those boys didn’t plan all of this security for the enemy to be able to board us, kill us all, and open up our greatest secrets with a cutting torch. Any attempt to tamper with the safe will not only destroy its contents, it will also set off a chain reaction that will send our nuclear reactor into meltdown.”

“Really? Bloody hell.”

“Bloody hell indeed. They really did think of everything. This boat is an expensive piece of hardware that contains many military secrets. They don’t want it falling into enemy hands. All academic now of course; there isn’t any enemy any more. At least, not of the kind that the Admiralty imagined. So now I’m going to give you a code, Captain Noah. The future of our two vessels is intimately entwined. We need each other. It is only right that the captain of the Spirit of Arcadia has the means of opening this safe if we are not able to do so ourselves.”

“Can’t you just open it now? I mean, nobody’s going to know, are they?”

“Patience, old boy, patience. There is protocol to be followed. This safe is a last resort, and a symbol of hope. If we open it prematurely and find that the bases I believe it will lead us to have already been destroyed, then hope will be destroyed with them. As long as we have other options, Scotland being one example, the safe remains shut. Now, here, I need you to memorise this number. This is Ralf’s code. I am trusting that you will use it only in the most dire circumstances, and if Ralf himself is not able to do so.” He scribbled an eight-digit number on a scrap of paper and passed it across the table.

Jake looked at it for some time, making connections between pairs of digits and important numbers in his life. His birthday, his and Jane’s wedding anniversary, Lucya’s cabin number, part of the license plate of his car back home; he found patterns in the code and used them to build a story in his mind, a story he knew he could easily recall at any time.

“Okay, I’ve got it,” he said.

“Splendid!” Coote poured some water from a jug into a glass, and pushed the paper into the liquid. “Can’t burn anything in a submarine,” he explained. “Remember, this safe is tamper-proof. You get two tries at the code. Get it wrong twice, and…well, you’d better get yourself and your cruise ship as far away from the Ambush as possible.”

There was a knocking at the door, and without waiting for a response it opened and Ralf poked his head round. “We’ve got eyes on the source of the signal. I think you’re going to want to get a proper look at this from outside,” he said.

Three

“THAT LOOKS AN awful lot like one of the Spirit of Arcadia’s life rafts,” Jake said as he scrutinised Jason’s monitor. He’d had first-hand experience of just such a raft, having being cast adrift in one for twenty-four hours. It wasn’t a memory he wanted to dwell on.

“It’s similar, but smaller. Hang on.” Jason worked away at his keyboard and a scale popped up on the screen. With a trackball he manipulated it until the crosshairs formed by the vertical and horizontal graded lines were aligned with the middle of the raft. “It’s about a third smaller than the one we found you in.”

“All our rafts are the same size, so it can’t be from the Arcadia. Is this image magnified? Can whoever is inside that thing see us yet?”

“Yes, the image is enhanced, but they absolutely should be able to see your ship from this distance. We’re quite close now.”

“So why isn’t anyone looking out?”

Jason, Ralf, and Coote all leaned in to the monitor to get a closer look.

“Jolly good question,” Coote said. “Jolly good question indeed. And here’s another question for you. How good is your new trainee helmsman? Because between us we have no tenders, and not even a lifeboat we can use to go and pick them up. We’re going to have to sail right over them.”

“Don’t you mean alongside?” Jake asked.

“Individually, yes. But as a pair, over the top will work. Trust me, you’ll see what I mean. Jason, get on the line with the bridge of the Arcadia and talk them in. Remember Bermuda, 2012?”

Jason nodded.

“Same thing, just with a bigger partner.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Captain Noah, will you accompany me as part of the welcoming party?”

Jake nodded, and the two captains left for the conning tower. They stopped off in the junior ratings mess on the way.

“Hi, Ewan, how are you?”

“Jake, good to see you again.”

“Ewan, I need you to find Eric, then meet us on the tower,” Coote said. “It looks like we might have more guests. Best make sure you’re both armed too; can’t be too careful.”

The young man nodded and immediately left to find his colleague.

“Do you think weapons are really necessary?” Jake asked. “I know this is a military vessel, but, you know, ‘no more enemies’ and all that?”

“Can’t be too careful. If they turn out to be friendly, then there’s no harm done eh?”

They continued to the conning tower in silence. Jake couldn’t help but feel a sense of excited anticipation at finding a sign of life, the first since seeing the Ambush rise majestically out of a Norwegian fjord. Who knew what stories the survivors would have to tell? How had they escaped death? What could they learn from them?

“After you then, sir!” Coote said jovially. They had reached the ladder that led to the hatch at the top of the tower.

Jake began to climb. At the top he knocked a couple of times. The hatch was kept closed while they were sailing, to keep spray out. Seconds after knocking, it popped open and Brian’s face peered inside. Jake mounted the final few rungs and clambered out onto the top of the fin with Coote following.

They spotted the raft immediately. In the time they had taken to get outside they were almost upon it.

“Ah, here come the boys now,” Coote said as Eric and Ewan emerged from the top of the tower. “Right then, shall we? Eric, you take the lead, Ewan can follow us up. Bring a rope hook with you.”

The first submariner clambered onto the walkway connecting the two vessels and made his way to the middle. Coote and Jake followed.

“Are you sure this is going to hold all four of us?” Jake asked, nervous once again.

“How many passengers have you seen piling down this ramp when you’re docked?” Coote asked, chuckling.

“Crowds of them. But never with the ramp stretched over such a distance.”

“Relax, it will be fine. And anyway, we’re hardly moving now. If it gives way, we won’t have far to swim!”

It was true that they had almost come to a complete stop. Jason’s instructions were clearly spot on. They were lined up in such a way that they were going to straddle the raft. It was already level with the bow of the Spirit of Arcadia. As the ship slipped slowly and silently through the water, it was as if they were scooping the raft out of the sea.

“Ready, chaps? Stand by with that hook!” Coote called.

“Over the top…” Jake said to himself.

“Indeed, old boy! Indeed!”

The raft was now almost directly under the walkway. The photonics mast on the submarine was turning slowly, watching its progress, Jason no doubt relaying directions to the bridge of the ship. There was a sudden roaring sound of propellers reversing, sending a jet of blue-green wash streaming up to the surface and towards the bow. The bubbling water sent the raft away from the walkway, but as momentum carried the ship forwards further, it bobbed back towards them.

“Ewan, it’s all yours!” Coote shouted to make himself heard over the sound of the last remnants of propeller wash.

The young submariner leaned out over the walkway as far as he could, the rope hook extended. He shuffled sideways, back towards the Ambush, and with a well-practiced and deft swipe, hooked the top of the bright orange canopy that covered the raft.

“Good shot, old chap, well done! Let’s bring her alongside, see who’s in there.”

The three other men rallied around Ewan. Eric held a rifle at the ready, just in case. Jake was getting worried; still nobody had emerged from the canopy. Whoever was inside was either immobile, unconscious, or just plain scared.

Brian had watched the rescue effort from his position on the conning tower. He grabbed another rope hook and climbed down the ladder on the outside of the massive fin, positioning himself just under the walkway. Only the tower and the very top of the submarine were exposed, so he was almost at sea level. As Ewan brought the raft close in, Brian grabbed it with his own hook and pulled it alongside. Within a minute the rest of the team were standing with him. Still, nobody had emerged from the canopy.

“Hello? Anyone in there? I’m Captain Coote of HMS Ambush. Terrible name, don’t let it put you off; we’re a friendly bunch really. Do come out and say hello!”

They waited, but the only response was silence.

“Ewan, perhaps you would do the honours?” Coote said. “Eric, you know what to do.”

Jake instinctively moved out of the way, letting Eric aim his rifle directly at the split in the canopy. The submariners nodded to each other, and Ewan extended his rope hook and carefully peeled open the bright orange fabric. All five men leaned in to see who, or what, was inside.

• • •

Excited voices chattered in the passageway. Scott tried to make out what they were saying, but he was too far from the cabin door to hear properly. Besides, the layers of conversations piled on top of one another, making it impossible to pick any one out and follow it. One word kept being repeated, and that word was ‘raft.’ He had no idea why a raft would cause such confabulation, and neither did he care. People were outside, and that meant help was at hand.

“Help me! Please, somebody help me!” he shouted as loud as he could, expecting assistance to burst through the door any second.

Nobody came.

Whatever this raft business was about, it was holding the attention of anyone and everyone who might possibly hear his cries. Doors were banging as people returned to their cabins, or went back outside to see what the fuss was about. He feared that he didn’t have long before the corridor would once again fall quiet. With a firm grip on the arms of the chair in which he was seated, he pulled himself forwards until he tumbled out and came crashing to the floor. The deep blue carpet was designed more to last the wear and tear of a thousand pairs of feet than for comfort, or soft landings, and Scott knew he’d have bruises in the morning. He tried pushing himself onto his hands and knees, but his legs refused to respond. Spurred on by the decreasing sound level, he thrust his arms out ahead of him and began to pull himself along the floor, legs dragging uselessly behind him.

“Erica? Andrea? Someone? Anyone! Help me, please help me! I’m in cabin 849. Please, help!”

The room wasn’t much bigger than the two beds which dominated it, and although Scott had felt a flush of disappointment upon first entering it at the beginning of the cruise, now he was thankful for its diminutive proportions. Still hauling himself forwards by his fingertips, he soon made it to the door. He reached up and found the chrome handle. The door fell open, and with a grunt he heaved his way through.

The hallway was quieter but there were still people milling about. Passengers were exchanging theories and stories about other survivors. Scott wasn’t interested in listening though, he was crying out urgently, waiting to be noticed.

“Please! Someone help me!”

“Gosh, do you think that man has had too much to drink?” he heard a young woman say.

“I’d like to know where he got it if he has. I’m sick of orange juice and desalinated seawater!” another voice replied, provoking a chorus of agreement.

“Daddy! What’s wrong?”

Scott heard his daughter’s voice cut through the hubbub, but couldn’t see her. Then an elderly couple were pushed apart, and Erica burst through the crowd, running towards him.

“What’s wrong, Daddy? I’m scared! What’s wrong?”

“It’s okay, my angel, daddy’s just a bit sick. I need you to be a big, brave girl for me. I need you to find the doctor. One of these people will help you,” he said, raising his voice, the people around no longer able to ignore the scene playing out on the floor.

“Help my daddy! Somebody help my daddy!” Erica shrieked. The sound of the stricken child finally provoked action, and within seconds a crowd had rallied around to assist Scott at last.

• • •

“What do you mean empty? How could it be empty? Where did they go? I don’t understand!”

“Calm down, Lucya, take it easy.” Jake put his hand on her shoulder gently, but she shrugged it away. Their recent relationship was no secret, but they made a conscious effort to try and remain professional while working. Surrounded by other members of the committee was not a suitable environment for displaying affection, although that hadn’t been Jake’s intention anyway.

“I am calm! Sorry, it’s just…I thought there were more survivors, that it was a sign things were not as bad as we thought.”

“It’s okay, Lucya, we all feel the same way. Well, those of us who knew about this last minute rescue operation,” Martin said looking at Jake pointedly.

“As an emergency, my understanding is that the bridge crew has the authority to act without needing to convene the committee,” Jake said defensively.

He looked around the table at the others on the committee, the recently created group of representatives for the three thousand or so people on board the Spirit of Arcadia, and the hundred submariners of HMS Ambush. The members from the cruise liner had been elected in a properly arranged democratic process shortly after Jake had retaken control of the ship. Silvia Brook, hotel manager, had been almost unanimously voted for by those formerly known as crew and staff. Doctor Grau Lister was included by default; his expertise was deemed a requirement for all important decisions concerning the future of the community. Chief Engineer Martin Oakley was included for similar reasons; his knowledge of the ship—their home—was second to none. Security Chief Max Mooting, and Lucya were both included in meetings of the committee, although they didn’t have a vote. Jake was used to working with all of these people on a daily basis and felt comfortable around them. It was the new faces that were going to take some getting used to. Amanda Jackson, a tall, thin American woman, was popular among passengers. Before the cruise she had been area manager for a chain of coffee shops. She seemed nice enough, a bit quiet, Jake thought, although he suspected she would make her voice heard in time. Ella Rose was much more forthright. Not one to shy away from expressing her opinions and making a statement, she even dyed her hair to match her name. Her life before the apocalypse had been one of respraying cars. She adored anything with an engine, and she’d struck up a strong friendship with Martin, the chief engineer.

Captain Gibson Coote was the sole representative from the submarine. The chain of command remained intact in their vessel. There was no question of anyone else from the Ambush having a vote on the committee.

“Yes, that is what we agreed, Martin, we all voted on it, remember?” Ella said, coming to Jake’s defence, and surprising Martin. “Although it might have been nice to have been told once you had changed course for this raft.”

“And I should have been involved in the reception,” Max chipped in. “As a potential security risk, I should have been there.”

“Mr Mooting, I assure you that my chaps are more than capable of ensuring the safety of our little community. And as it turned out, there was no risk as the raft was entirely empty anyway!” Coote said.

“Which,” Lucya butted in, “brings us back to the question of where did it come from, and how did it start transmitting a distress signal? It didn’t just pop up out of nowhere, did it?”

“Who knows? There was no ship’s name on it, no identifying marks. It’s a common model used by all kinds of boats and ships. I suppose it’s been floating around since the asteroid, and the beacon somehow set itself off. Is that not possible?” Jake rubbed his chin. He didn’t want to waste time on this discussion; there were more important things to do.

“Possible, yes, but highly unlikely,” Lucya replied. “They design those things specifically so that they don’t start transmitting for no reason. Can you imagine the chaos if rafts started broadcasting all over the place at random?”

“The real question,” Amanda began, taking everyone by surprise, “is should we go looking for the people that might have been in that raft? What if they fell out? What if there’s another raft? Or a boat in trouble somewhere?”

“A good question, Amanda,” Coote said. Jake had a feeling the captain had a soft spot for her. “But Ralf and his team have run radar and sonar sweeps, radio scans, and visual checks, and we don’t believe there is anything of interest within a hundred nautical miles of our current position. We have as much chance of coming across something if we head for Scotland as if we return towards the North Pole.”

“So you’re saying we should continue with the original plan and go to your military base?”

“Precisely. That was what we all voted for, and this little detour has done nothing to change my view. Food is very soon going to become a problem, and the base, if it has survived, is stocked with supplies.”

“Very well,” Jake said, standing up and placing his hands on the table. “Let’s wrap this up. We’re going to Scotland. The raft has been checked thoroughly, there’s nothing in there and no sign anyone was ever in it. We’ll hang onto it. It could prove useful, especially as we have no tender or lifeboats. Unless there are any objections, I’d like to get back to the bridge and get going. We’ve suffered enough delays already.”

“Well said, old chap!” Coote said. Everyone else nodded in agreement, some more enthusiastically than others.