Sedulity 2: Aftershock (Sedulity Saga) (17 page)

Hank decided that his young friends had seen enough, as had he
himself. There was no point in dwelling on the carnage displayed on television.
Soon they would start showing instant replay highlights of the annihilation of
Southern California. That footage would dominate television coverage until the
tsunamis reached the Bay Area in a little more than an hour. Hank patted Romy’s
shoulder. “Let’s go see if the suite is available yet. I think we’ve seen
enough here.”

Romy rose to follow him with tears streaming down her face. Fred
took a moment longer to stand up, then followed the other two silently out of
the theater with his eyes downcast. Everyone reacted to the end of the world as
they knew it differently. Hank felt confident that Romy would come to grips
with it eventually. He had his doubts about Fred’s ability to cope, but at
least the poor guy hadn’t gone ape-shit. Hank would take shell-shocked over
screaming psycho any day. Now, if only the crew would allow them to go up to
his suite, Hank really needed to take a nap.

*****

Armando was completely overwhelmed by the events shown on the
little flat screen mounted above his bunk. He shivered in terror as the
tsunamis wiped out Long Beach, watched in amazement as the
Queen Mary
rode the wave into downtown Los Angeles, and turned off
the television when he realized the magnitude of death and destruction he was
witnessing.

He couldn’t think about going back to sleep, terrified of
what might haunt his dreams. The pain from his burns was a constant ordeal, but
the pills the doctor had given him were keeping it bearable. He felt isolated
and alone, lying in his bunk, and couldn’t stop worrying about the plot for
mutiny that Phong had described. Armando couldn’t handle being alone with his
thoughts and fears any longer. He gritted his teeth and endured the pain of
climbing out of the top bunk and pulling a bathrobe over his burned, bruised,
and bandaged body.

The ship was rocking with the swells, but Armando had his sea
legs back and avoided bumping into the walls as he left his cabin. He made his
way down the companionway to the Crew Lounge. It wasn’t as opulent at the bars
and nightclubs designed for the passengers, but this was where the crew came to
relax and recreate. It contained ping pong and pool tables, a dart board and
dance floor, as well as a bar. Crewmembers were allowed to purchase up to three
beers or two cocktails per night there.
 
Armando had a feeling that many of the crew would be maxing out their
allotment today, after what they had all been through the night before, not to
mention what they were seeing on TV. In fact, if Armando had his way, he
wouldn’t even charge for drinks or impose a quota tonight.

The lounge was empty, which was unusual even for midday.
Armando assumed that most of the crew were hard at work, cleaning up the ship,
making repairs, or otherwise occupied with keeping the passengers safe and the
ship afloat. Then it dawned on him that many of the crew were probably injured,
like he was, and that many others had been killed by the asteroid strike. No
wonder the lounge was deserted.

Being a bartender, Armando went behind the bar, unlocked the cabinets,
and poured himself a drink. Thinking back to his near death experience in the
Sky Lounge, he sipped a glass of Johnny Walker Red Label on the rocks, wishing
they stocked the crew lounge with Black, Gold, or Blue. That was only a passing
thought. His mind was far too preoccupied with the horrors he had witnessed,
the fears he felt, and an all-consuming sense of loss. He sat there, nursing
his Scotch, until he heard voices approaching. They sounded upset.

More than a dozen of the crew entered the lounge, several
arguing in a language Armando didn’t understand. They were all Asian, most of
them Indonesian, but Armando recognized two of his fellow Filipinos and spotted
Phong at the back of the pack. The two Indonesians stopped arguing when they
spotted Armando behind the bar. It probably took them a moment to recognize
Armando beneath all the bandages, but then came smiles and waves.

“Armando,” said the leader of the group who the bartender
recognized as a cook named Baluk. “It’s good to see you up and about. Phong
told us you were badly injured.”

“I’ve seen better days,” Armando replied. “But I couldn’t
stand watching anymore of the news, and didn’t want to be alone in my cabin. I
decided I needed a drink.” He raised his glass in salute and downed the rest of
it.

“Yes, it’s a terrible day,” Baluk said. “The end of the
world, perhaps. Certainly the end of our jobs and duties aboard this ship. It’s
time to think about going home to our families.”

Armando had to appear surprised to hear that. It wouldn’t be
good for them to know that Phong had already exposed their plan. “What do you
mean?” Armando asked.

“The world is being destroyed,” Baluk said. “The credit cards
carried by the passengers on this ship are worthless now. The same will be true
of our paychecks, if we ever get them. There’s no reason to treat these
passengers like royalty anymore. No reason to stay on this ship and follow
orders from officers that won’t be able to pay us. We want the captain to take
us home to find our families. We will go on strike if he refuses. Are you with
us, Armando?”

Armando shook his head in sadness. “Some of what you say may
be true, Baluk. It is certainly a different world today than it was yesterday.
But all of us would be dead already if the captain hadn’t saved the ship last
night. We all owe him our lives and I will follow him anywhere. Besides, most
of our homes and families are already gone, swept away by tsunamis, earthquakes,
and volcanoes.”

“You can’t know that!” Baluk blurted. “We must try to reach
our families! They may need us. That is where our loyalty belongs, not with this
ship.”

Armando shook his head again and used a remote control to
turn on the TV mounted above the bar. It was showing clips of the devastating
tsunamis hitting one city after another around the entire Pacific Rim.

“I’m from a coastal fishing village,” Armando said. “I have
nothing to go home to. Neither do most of the rest of you. We must pray for our
loved ones and thank God that we have survived. Our best chance of staying
alive is to stick together and keep this ship running.”

The men standing in front of the bar displayed various
expressions ranging from anger to sorrow. A couple of them turned and wandered
away, consumed with their own thoughts. Several others approached the bar and
ordered shots of alcohol while staring at the TV. Baluk turned to the man next
to him and resumed a heated debate in their native tongue.
 
Then he cajoled as many of the men as possible
to accompany him in rounding up more rebellious crewmembers. Phong gave Armando
a questioning look, to which Armando nodded that he should go with the rebels
for now. Baluk took fewer men out of the lounge than he had brought there, but
it was clear that he hoped to rally more support for his cause elsewhere.

Armando tried to smile while he filled the remaining men’s
glasses with their drinks of choice. He didn’t bother charging them. The drinks
were on the house, and would be a bargain if he could convince these men to go
back to work and encourage the rest of the crew to remain loyal to the ship and
captain. The last thing the
Sedulity
needed now was a mutiny.
 

*****

Lydia spent hours in the medical center, helping to care for
the injured and giving what comfort and encouragement she could. Growing
increasingly hungry, she realized that no one had delivered lunch to the
medical staff, or the injured passengers and crew either. This disturbed her,
so she headed for the main kitchen.

The place was still a mess, with broken glass and plates
simply swept into piles, appliances still overturned from the rollercoaster
ride the night before. There were several cooks present, tending to giant pots
of soup and stew, but far less kitchen staff than Lydia was accustomed to
seeing there.

“Where is everyone?” she asked the closest chef.

“Many of the kitchen staff have been assigned to clean other
parts of the ship. Others are injured, missing, or dead. And some of them simply
walked out a while ago. We’re doing our best to keep food on the tables for the
passengers and crew, but it’s nothing fancy.”

“I understand,” Lydia said. “It’s just that no one has
brought anything down to the medical center for all the injured to eat, not to
mention those of us caring for them.”

“Bloody hell!” exclaimed the chef. “We didn’t think about
them. I’m so sorry. I’ll send down these pots of stew and soup in a few
minutes, along with bowls to serve it in. How many injured are down there?”

“Hundreds,” Lydia said. “Closer to a thousand, including
injured crew and caregivers. The soup and stew will be much appreciated, I’m
sure.”

“Of course, Mrs. Krystos. I’ll send trays of fresh bread and
gallons of milk and hot coffee too. We’ll keep food flowing down there, now
that you’ve brought it to my attention. I’m truly sorry we overlooked them.
It’s been so crazy since last night and I’m really shorthanded.”

“You said some of your staff walked off the job?” Lydia asked
with concern. Now that the priority of getting food to the injured was settled,
the idea that some of the crew had deserted their posts sparked new concerns.

“Yes, ma’am. Most of the Indonesians and Filipinos just
disappeared. They were talking among themselves first, and I don’t speak a
bloody word of that native stuff,” the British chef explained. “Next time I
looked around to place orders, they’d all buggered off. Excuse my French,
ma’am. That’s when we had to shift from preparing regular buffet menus to soup
and stew.”

“I see,” Lydia said with a worried frown, because in truth
she didn’t see at all. “Have you informed the bridge about this?”

“Not yet ma’am. I didn’t want to get anyone in trouble and
figured they’d be right back. I mean where could they go? I thought maybe they
were saying prayers for loved ones at home or something like that. But it’s
been more than hour now, and I’m about out of patience.”

“I don’t blame you,” Lydia said. “Don’t worry about it now.
You focus on getting food down to the med center. I’ll go up and tell my
husband about the missing kitchen crew. I’m sure he’ll reassign others to
assist you. Aside from Engineering keeping the ship running and the bridge crew
steering us away from danger, I can’t think of anything more important than
feeding everyone – especially those in the med center.
 
The doctors and nurses, including volunteers
from the passengers, are doing an amazing job, but it’s heartbreaking down
there. So many people with horrible burns. They’ll be grateful for whatever you
can send them.”

“Of course, ma’am. Right away,” the chef said, turning back
to stir the stew.

“Is there a tray of snacks or something I can take to the bridge?”
Lydia asked. Her stomach growled, reminding her of why she had come there in
the first place.

“Yes, ma’am,” the chef replied. “In fact, I was about to send
a cart up there. It would be a godsend if you take it. That way I can send
another waiter down with stuff for the injured. Schmitt!” he called out. “Bring
that cart of food for the bridge crew. Mrs. Krystos will be taking it up. I
need you to start taking everything else that’s ready down to the med center.
The rest of the passengers will have to wait awhile.”

Lydia smiled when she saw the room service cart loaded with
wrapped sandwiches and thermoses of soup. She hoped that it would cheer the
mood of her husband and others on the bridge. Of course, she had not been
watching television and had no idea how much of the world she knew had been
wiped out that day.

*****

Captain Krystos was back at the helm, evaluating the weather
and monitoring ongoing repairs throughout the ship. He couldn’t take any more
of the apocalyptic television coverage of tsunamis wiping out cities and ports
around the Pacific Rim. The carnage in California had turned his stomach, and
the news coming out of Asia wasn’t any better. Dozens of major ports and
seaside communities that he had visited in his long career at sea were
completely destroyed. It was too much to process. The only thing positive that
he could take from these events was that the
Sedulity
and the majority of those aboard her were still afloat and
it was his responsibility to keep them that way.

“Status report, Mr. Crawford?” he asked.

“Ship’s speed 15 knots, course 260 true, seas at four meters,
and winds out of the west at 36 knots. Heavy rain, but visibility has improved
to 1200 meters, with a bit more light shining through the cloud cover now. It
looks like we’re starting to get out from under the worst of the weather, Sir.”

“That’s good,” the captain stated. “Steady as she goes for
another hour, then we’ll decide if conditions have improved enough to turn
south for Australia.” He took another minute to stare out at the pounding rain
and windswept swells before asking, “How long until we can restore satellite
internet and phone service?”

“They’re working on it, Sir. The rain has cooled off a bit
more, so we have three technicians outside working on the sat-dome in shifts.
They hope to have it operational within the hour.”