Noah's Ark: Encounters (20 page)

Finally he had arrived at deck four, exhausted. It was the lowest deck with an outside area, and so the first opportunity to get back onto the ship. Now he had to get back to the engine room. Just as soon as he got his breath back.

Extra motivation arrived in the form of a crowd of angry passengers. Martin always wore engineering overalls, emblazoned with the Pelagios Line logo. They gave him away as someone who might have answers, and the passengers made that perfectly clear.

“Here, mate. What’s going on with the electric? When’s the power getting switched back on?”

Martin shook his head, showering those closest to him with beads of salty water. “You do realise we’ve just endured some kind of explosion?”

“Yeah? Obviously. And? When’s the electric coming back on?”

“Un-fucking-believable.” Martin glared at the crowd, looking from one person to the next. He pulled himself upright, turned, and walked away, ignoring their protestations and cries.

He arrived in engineering to find Tom Sanderson working with two junior mechanics. They were almost at the point of getting the main diesel electric generator running.

“Ah. Mr Oakley. Hope you don’t mind,” Sanderson began. “Took the liberty of coming down to lend a hand. Didn’t want the lack of electricity to delay the lunch service, you see.”

“Mr Sanderson. How nice to see you.” Martin spoke through gritted teeth. He hated it when Tom poked his nose in, but he was so tired he didn’t really care anymore. In fact, if it meant he could sit down and let someone else do the work, he was quite pleased. “Please, be my guest. I’ll just be over…” He waved a hand in the direction of a desk, and a very inviting chair.

Sanderson nodded and turned back to the others. “So that’s primed, and now we can begin the start-up sequence.”

• • •

There was no answer from Miss Linders, but there were voices. They sounded strange, unfamiliar.

They did not sound like the voices of children.

The beam of light moved frantically, too fast for Lucya to follow. She heard the sound of tables and chairs being dragged around, their sturdy metal legs scraping against the tiled floor. A bang close by made her think something had just struck the door.

Lucya rattled the handle again, then rammed the door with her shoulder. Her instinct told her something was wrong, and that it was important to get in there one way or another.

Then, another noise. A deep, low rumbling. A familiar vibration felt through the soles of her feet. She’d lived with that vibration for years. It had only stopped when they had found the
Ambush
, and connected to her for power. It was the unmistakable feeling and sound of the
Arcadia
’s diesel electric generators starting up. One of them, at least.

As the vibration settled down, lights began to flicker into life. The ship’s systems were designed to power up in sequence so as not to draw too big a load from the generators. The first lights to come back on were those far away, down the passage near the cinema. One by one, more sections of illumination were roused, getting closer and closer to Lucya. Then the lights right over her head powered up.

She stopped pushing at the door and tried again to look through the window. With the room beyond still in darkness, all she saw was her own reflection, her eyes wide with fear, although she still didn’t know what she was afraid of.

The noises inside had stopped. She heard a child whimper, then an adult voice shout something she didn’t understand.

After what felt like hours, but was only seconds, the fluorescent ceiling lights in the classroom finally began to awaken. They flickered and flashed, illuminating the room for microseconds at a time like tiny bolts of lightning. Lucya caught the shortest glimpse of the children; a snapshot, a hundredth of a second. Her brain processed the image: they were all seated on the floor, and she thought they had their hands on their heads.
 

Another flicker as the tubes warmed up. Another glimpse.

There were other people in the room. They were standing around the children.

Another flash, a tenth of a second longer than the last. The lights were almost on. Lucya thought she saw Miss Linders. It
looked
like Miss Linders. But she was on the floor, lying on her front. Something dark surrounded her head. Was it…blood?

Lucya banged on the door with both fists. “Open up! Open this door.” Tears rolled down her face. Her heart pounded in her ears, her hands burned with pain, and still she rammed them into the wood.

At last, with a final flicker, the lights came on, and stayed on.

Sixteen men in uniform surrounded the children. One man stood before the door, barricaded by classroom furniture. He stared at Lucya, his face devoid of emotion yet still somehow menacing, like a malevolent robot. In front of him, a child. He held her fast with his left arm. In his right hand, a gun. It was pressed into the child’s neck.

It was, Lucya saw with a mixture of horror and terror the likes of which she had never experienced in her life, pressed into
Erica’s
neck.

Twenty-Two

J
AKE
MET
D
AVE
, the navigation officer, on his way back to the bridge. He had been on his way to start his shift when the explosion had occurred.

“A torpedo?” The navigator looked incredulous. “Are you sure?”

“That’s what the
Ambush
reported, before they disappeared.”

The two men were crossing deck ten, pushing the trolley from medical in front of them. It made barely a sound on the plush carpet.

“But who…where…why?” Dave struggled to get to grips with the idea. The questions in his mind competed for supremacy, none of them making it to his lips fully formed.

“I’m as clueless as you. I have a sneaking suspicion that the folks from the
Lance
might be able to shed some light on the situation though.” Jake stopped walking and hesitated. “Actually, you can do me a favour. Get this trolley to the bridge and help Vardy with McNair. I’m going to find those men we rescued.”

“Do you think we’re in danger? Someone tried to blow us out of the water. Will they try again?”

“That’s what I intend to find out. I’m just hoping it was the submarine they were after, and not us. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not wishing any harm on those boys. Let’s face it though, they’re equipped and trained for this sort of thing.”

Dave nodded. He patted Jake on the back. “Good luck.”

As the men parted ways, lights began to pop into life, accompanied by cheering from parties unseen.

• • •

The darkness in Max Mooting’s gloomy office was not, for once, self-imposed. The head of security was getting impatient with the situation. He had been able to contact a handful of his team by radio — those who were within range without using repeater stations. His real concern was for Bembridge, or rather for the prisoners he was guarding in the makeshift brig. He saw no rational reason to be worried, but experience told him that bad things often happened when the lights went out.

He was contemplating a trip down to deck two to check on things, when he felt the unmistakable vibration of the diesel engines starting up. Up on deck six the vibration was barely perceptible, but after travelling for so long on borrowed silent nuclear electricity, even the tiniest change could be felt. Max sat back down and put his feet up on the desk, waiting for the power to come back on.

He didn’t have to wait long. In the corridor outside, a light came on, illuminating his office blind from behind, creating a halo effect. He grabbed his radio and punched in the code for the young man he had stationed down below.

“Bembridge.” A tiny beep indicated the transmission was over. The voice sounded apprehensive.

“This is Max. I need a status report.” He scratched his knee, then pushed his index finger up his nose and began to pick.

“They’re…they’re gone. The prisoners are gone.”

Max sat upright, slowly. He liberated his finger and wiped it on his trouser leg. “What do you mean, gone? Explain yourself!”
 

“The door…opened. When the power went. They got out.”

Max was on his feet, bellowing at the radio. “Why didn’t you stop them? No, never mind that. Where the fuck are they now?”

“I…I don’t know. I was knocked out. I don’t know where they went.”

Max swore repeatedly. He punched in a new code then spoke loudly and clearly into the radio. “All units, be on the lookout for escaped prisoners. Seventeen men, probably Korean, wearing military uniforms. They could be anywhere on the ship. Do not approach them, they’re dangerous. Call in immediately. Confirm you have received and understood this message.” He proceeded to call a rota of his entire team, addressing each name in turn and waiting for the officer to report back. All did, except one.

“Garet? Report! Where are you, damn it?” Max stared at his radio, as if Grace would feel his eyes on her and come out of hiding. But the little speaker remained resolutely silent.

• • •

Lucya felt the strength leave her body. It was as if someone had opened a valve and let her very essence flow out. Her legs went numb and weak, and she fought to remain standing. Her lungs emptied. She forgot to breathe in, making her head spin even more.
 

The scene before her was almost impossible to comprehend. She had already been grappling with the fact that someone, somewhere, had apparently fired a torpedo at them. And now…now someone was holding a gun to her adopted daughter’s neck.

It was Erica who brought Lucya back to her senses. She flinched. Whimpered. A tiny sound, barely audible through the door. Lucya snapped out of her stupor. As she breathed again, her eyes opened wide. Rage flooded in, filling the vacuum created by the shock. Instinct drove her, and she flew at the door, hammering and kicking it with all her strength, a wild beast desperate to save her child. With every blow, she screamed. Her thick dark hair flew about her scarlet face.

The door resisted.

Another movement brought her ferocious attack on the barricaded entrance to an abrupt halt. The uniformed man with the gun pressed into Erica’s neck was shaking his head slowly. When he saw that he had her attention, he pushed the barrel harder into the girl’s tender flesh, making her cry out in pain. Lucya wanted to fly at the door again, but a sharper shake of the soldier’s head made it clear that the consequences would not be good. It took all of her self-control to prevent herself from moving.

“Let her go!”

They were the first coherent words she had spoken since the lights had come on.

The man shook his head again.

“You understand me. Let her go, and I’ll let you live.”

The man’s lips turned up in the slightest hint of a smile. His head turned twice more.

“What is it you want? You want something, right?” Lucya fought to control her breathing, and her temper. She focussed on Erica. She had to stay calm, for her sake. “Tell me!” She took another deep breath, then repeated, less aggressively, “Tell me.”

The man spoke. Just one word. His accent was strong, but Lucya understood at once.

“Captain.”

• • •

Entering cabin 845 wearing a paper mask, Jake was reminded of the terrible virus that had claimed the lives of many on the ship, and had almost taken his own. It had started right there, in that very cabin. The room had subsequently become the centre of operations for the medical team as they fought the malady, their own rooms quickly having been overwhelmed. Now 845 had been pressed into service once more, filled with the twelve remaining members of the
Lance
’s crew.

The room was the same, but some of the nurses were new to Jake. The
Arcadia
’s original complement had been victims of the virus. Grau Lister, ship’s doctor, was in attendance, but he was so weakened by the effects of the virus that he was there purely in an advisory role. The new nurses had been drafted in during the outbreak, and had stayed on since, but Jake hadn’t met all of them yet. Carrie had looked after him and Lucya during their recovery, and now she was attending to Captain Coote in the original medical suite.

An enthusiastic young nurse called Kevin welcomed Jake, and directed him to the captain of the
Lance
.

“He’s very weak,” Kevin explained. “You won’t be able to talk to him for long. The drip is to get fluids into him. They were all badly dehydrated. They’re also on tranquillisers for the pain.”

“Will they be okay? In the long run?”

“Oh yes, I’m sure they will. None of them have any life-threatening injuries. Doctor Vardy is running blood tests, just to be sure, hence these.” He pointed a finger at his own face mask. “We should have the results back soon.”

“I wouldn’t count on that. Doctor Vardy is looking after our helmsman. He may be some time.”

Kevin nodded. They arrived at a bed at the far end of the room. Jake recognised the man lying in it. He had been the weakest of those to come out of the
Lance
. It was the man who had thanked them. “This is Captain Ove Kolstad,” Kevin said. “Ove, this is Captain Jake Noah. He would like to talk with you. Do you think that would be alright?”

The gaunt man gave the slightest of nods.

“Okay. Keep it brief please, captains. I’ll be over there if you need me.”

Kevin got out of the way, giving the two men some privacy.

“Hello, Ove.” Jake spoke softly. He found a chair and pulled it up to the side of the bed. “How are you feeling? Are they looking after you well?”

He nodded. “Wife,” he croaked. “Have you…seen my…wife?” The words were barely a whisper. Each one had to fight its way out, battling against exhaustion and the effects of the drugs.

“I haven’t spoken with any of the others. There hasn’t been time,” Jake said. “But I’m sure she’s being well looked after. Ove, I need to talk about what happened to you. About how you ended up prisoner on your own ship. I wanted to give you more time, but time is now against us.”

“Explosion?”

Jake nodded. “Yes. Someone attacked us. Or our escort submarine. Do you know who that might be? You’re the only other survivors we’ve seen since the asteroid. We’re at a loss to understand what’s going on.”