Noah's Ark: Encounters

by Dayle, Harry

  Jake heaved Coote onto the walkway and began dragging him backwards. To reach the relative safety of the Arcadia meant crossing open water. It was a risk he was willing to take, if there was a chance of saving the man’s life.

  The three navy men, one wounded, held their guard atop the submarine. With every shot that was fired at them, they could better target the enemy. The battle was far from over, but they were evening up the score.

  “Jake!”

  He heard his name, but his muffled senses gave him no idea where the voice was coming from. The walkway began to vibrate and bounce. For a second he feared the submarine was diving, but then he felt a hand on his shoulder. He was pulled to one side and two men squeezed past him. They carried some kind of makeshift shield — he couldn’t see what, and neither did he care. The person who had held him to the side also squeezed past and grabbed Coote’s legs.

  It was Max.

  “Go!” he shouted, although Jake saw the word more than he heard it.

  Between them they carried Coote over the walkway, Jake walking awkwardly backwards, still crouching. The two security officers stayed close in, protecting them. More than one bullet bounced off their shield, and Jake realised he had been foolhardy to try and cross on his own.

  It took them a full minute, a minute that felt like an hour, but they reached the sanctuary of the cruiser. Jake fell through the door, dragging Coote behind him. The second they were the other side of the wide hatch, two sailors started retracting the ramp.

  Max barked orders at his security guards, who collected up Coote and carried him towards the lift.

  “Eric!” Jake cried. “Eric is shot! We have to go back for him.”

  Max put out a hand and held him back. “Nobody’s going outside.”

  • • •

  Getting from the deck-two hatch up to the medical suite on deck five was something that happened in a bit of a blur. Jake was still disoriented from the sounds of the guns, although his hearing had begun, slowly, to return to normal.

  He was aware of other people as he made his way through the ship, but he saw them through a haze, hardly taking in what was happening around him.

  What was happening was a kind of calm panic; an ordered chaos. Those who had been watching the encounter from the windows had fled from their vantage points and sought refuge in the inner areas of the ship. Many of those people had been watching from cabins, which meant when they ran, it was to public areas. They took with them their stories of what they had seen, and the news swept through the thirteen decks faster than a wildfire. Security had a presence on every deck, but with little more than one officer per level they would have had their work cut out to keep order, had a real panic set in. Yet for all the mass movement of people, for all the tales of horror being discussed in every corner, there was still a prevailing calmness. It was as if the population had collectively decided that given what they had all overcome thus far, a few men with guns on a strange ship weren’t going to get to them. If anything, the community was pulling together in yet another time of need.

  But Jake was oblivious to all this. His mind was full of the sound of gunfire and the sight of blood. His priority now was Coote. Max had convinced him that the other submariners could take care of themselves. It would be over soon anyway. The Lance was pulling away, and the Arcadia and Ambush were also fleeing in the opposite direction.

  The door to the inner treatment room was closed when he arrived, but Jake entered without knocking. There were five people inside. Captain Gibson Coote was laid out on the treatment table. His upper body clothing had been cut away and lay discarded on the pristine white tiled floor. He had an oxygen mask secured to his face, and a drip line was already inserted into his arm.

  Surgeon Lieutenant Russell Vardy was stooped over the captain. He didn’t look up when Jake entered, and made no attempt at a greeting. His concentration was too intense.

  Assisting Vardy was the nurse, Carrie. She was relatively new to the team, having been recruited during the outbreak of the deadly virus. As far as Jake could tell she was sterilising instruments in preparation for emergency surgery.

  On one side of the room, standing shocked, were two people Jake didn’t recognise. One look told him they must be Dan and Vicky Mitchell; the young lady was very obviously pregnant.

  “I can see the bullet,” Vardy announced. “He’s lucky. It didn’t go deep. Can’t be sure it hasn’t severed a blood vessel though.” The doctor looked up at last, and caught sight of Jake. “You’re all going to have to leave. You too,” he said, looking at the Mitchells. “No time to get this place properly sterile, but I’m not taking unnecessary risks. I need to remove this bullet.”

  Jake nodded, and ushered Dan and Vicky towards the door.

  “Wait!” Vardy’s cry stopped all three in their tracks. “He needs blood. Jake, get his blood, from the sub.”

  “I don’t think we can get to the sub, Russell. The walkway was removed, and there’s a gun fight going on out there.”

  “Jake, listen to me. If I can’t get blood into him soon, he’s dead, got it? You’re the captain. Order the walkway to be put back, get over there, and get his blood.”

  “Excuse me?” Carrie held her hand in mid-air, as if wishing to ask a question in school. “Didn’t you use his blood when you were testing vaccines? I remember Mandy telling me about it.”

  Vardy stamped a foot and yelled at the wall. “Sorry. Yes, you’re right. But there’s more blood on the Ambush, not just Coote’s. He’s type A positive. There’s no shortage of that on board.”

  “Russell, I can try, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to get over there and back in time.”

  Then Dan piped up. “If it helps, my blood type is O negative. I think that means I can donate to anyone?”

  Vardy eyed the young man suspiciously. “Have you given blood before?”

  “No.”

  “So how do you know your blood type?”

  “I worked in the kitchens at Buckingham Palace. A blood test is part of the security check. And as a category one terrorist target, all personnel must know their blood group in case there is an incident that necessitates medical intervention.” Dan repeated the words mechanically, as if they had been drilled into him.

  Vardy nodded, satisfied by the explanation. “Do you suffer from any heart condition? Any history of heart conditions in your immediate family?”

  “No.”

  “Have you had any illness or infection in the last three weeks?”

  “No.”

  “Have you taken any antibiotics in the last month?”

  “Nope.”

  “Had any piercings or tattoos in the two months before coming aboard?”

  “None.”

  “Hepatitis in the last year?”

  “No.”

  “Ever had a sexually transmitted disease?”

  He glanced at Vicky. “Never.”

  “Hmm. Two more. Sorry, I have to ask. Have you had sex with a man in the last twelve months? And have you taken any illegal drugs in the last year?”

  “No. I’ve never done either of those things.”

  “Come on, Russell,” Jake urged. “He has to be a better option that trying to get to the sub.”

  Vardy hesitated another second. “Okay, fine. Carrie, can you get him ready? Jake, there’s a transfusion kit in the stores outside. Bring it to me. You.” He pointed at Vicky. “You’ll have to wait outside.”

  Jake led her through the door and found her a chair in the outer room of the suite, before charging off to the medical stores and returning with the box Vardy had asked for. He delivered it to the doctor, then at his request, returned to the outer room while emergency surgery was performed.

  He found the telephone and called the bridge. While it rang, he punched the speaker button and dropped into a chair.

  “Bridge.”

  “Lucya.”

  “Jake! Shit! Are you okay? We saw the fight. I saw you on the walkway. Are you o
kay?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine, honestly. Coote, less so. Vardy’s about to operate now. What’s happening out there?”

  “They stopped firing. The Lance just took off. I think one of our guys shot the helmsman and he fell onto the controls. Dave was watching through the binoculars. They’ve slowed down, but they’re keeping their distance.”

  “What about Eric? He was shot.”

  “They all went back into the submarine and it dived. He looked okay.”

  “I hope so. They’ve got no medic on board now.”

  “They’re all trained in emergency aid, Jake. He’ll be okay. I’ll call them to check though.”

  “Thank you. I’m going to wait here in medical. I want to see that Coote pulls through. Call me here if anything happens. We have to convene the committee as soon as possible too.”

  “I’ll arrange it.”

  He hung up the call, then moved to a seat closer to Vicky. “That was brave of your husband, volunteering like that. Especially as he’s never given blood before.”

  “He’ll be okay, won’t he? It’s not dangerous, is it?”

  “No. Not at all. And Vardy is an excellent doctor. They don’t come much more highly trained than him.”

  “I think he wanted to give something because he feels guilty. About what we did. About what I did.” Vicky looked uneasily at Jake, and caressed her bump.

  “Listen, I don’t blame you for what you did. It was a tough time for everyone. It’s been hard since that day. We all act differently under intense pressure. The important thing is that you’re looked after properly now.”

  “It’s going to stretch us even more though, isn’t it? Another mouth to feed. Two more mouths to feed, now I’m out of hiding.”

  “We’ll manage. And if you’re keeping score and counting mouths, we’ve lost quite a few to the virus. Your baby won’t stretch us. Actually, your baby is probably the best thing that could happen to this ship. To the community.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because your baby will show everyone that life goes on. New life. A brand new generation.”

  “She’ll be born into a strange world. If she’s a she. I think she is, but Dan think’s it’s a boy.” She sighed. “I feel sorry for her and she’s not even here yet.”

  “You know what? I don’t feel sorry for her. I don’t want to sound mean, but it’s the rest of us I feel sorry for. Your baby can’t miss what she never knew. This will be her world, her normality.”

  Vicky shifted her weight in her chair. “She’ll learn about the world as it was before though, won’t she?”

  “Yes. Didn’t you learn about the world before, in history lessons? Do you wish you lived in the past?”

  “Sometimes. Mostly not though, I guess. It’s just, I worry she’ll never run through a cornfield on a summer’s day, or watch autumn leaves turn gold, or taste fresh strawberries, or see the ruins of ancient Rome, or splash through puddles on her way to school. There’s a million normal things she’ll never do.”

  Jake put his arm around her as she wiped a tear from her eye. “Rome might be difficult, I’ll grant you. But I know a rather splendid man called Joseph, and I’ll be amazed if he doesn’t have fresh strawberries growing on some corner of this ship before the end of the year. Puddles can be arranged too. And as for cornfields? I think your baby will see them. The planet will repair itself. It’ll take time, but she’ll have a long life, and I think she’ll have a happy life.”

  The door to the inner room opened and Dan stepped out, looking ghostly white. He slumped into the nearest chair. Vicky got up and moved next to him.

  “Dan? Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, just a bit…weak.”

  “I’ll find you something to eat. You should have tea and a biscuit after giving blood,” Jake said. He went back to the medical stores, where he remembered having seen some high-energy glucose bars.

  “Here, eat this,” he said, returning to the waiting couple. “That should get you back on your feet. And thank you, for helping Coote.”

  Dan nodded, and tucked into the extra ration.

  “Vicky.” Jake sat down next to the girl once more. “It’s rather fortuitous that you’re here, as I was planning on coming to see you this morning. I understand your mother was Korean?”

  “Yes. She was from Donghae. It’s very beautiful, with mountains and beaches.”

  “And you speak Korean? Do you read written Korean?”

  “Yes. My mother was very strict about that. I read and spoke Korean before I learned any English.”

  Jake reached into the pocket of his bloodied jacket, retrieved the notebook, and flicked through until he found his hand-drawn symbols.

  “I wonder if you could tell me what these six symbols mean? I understand they are Korean.”

  She took the book, hand shaking slightly. “Five symbols,” Vicky said, smiling.

  “Sorry?”

  “There are five symbols. See here, this box, and the lines that look like an H? That is a single symbol.”

  “Okay. And what does this say?”

  “It says: ‘traitor scum’.”

  Twelve

  ALL OF THE committee members with the exception of Captain Coote were present on the bridge when Jake returned.

  “How is he?” Lucya asked as soon as he stepped through the door.

  “Unconscious. He lost a lot of blood. Vardy removed the bullet. He was lucky, it didn’t hit anything too important, but he had to try and repair a blood vessel.”

  “Try?”

  “Doesn’t have quite the right equipment, or something, I don’t know. He says it’s still touch and go. There was no point me hanging round there any longer. He could be out of it for days.”

  The committee members were spread out around the room. Martin was examining a console, keeping out of everyone’s way. Amanda and Ella were seated at the map table with Grau. Max and Silvia were at the front windows, watching the Lance. Jake joined them.

  “It’s a damned game of cat and mouse she’s playing with us,” Max said. He was studying the research ship through a powerful pair of binoculars. Jake wondered where he’d got them; they looked much better than his own.

  “Are we the cat, or the mouse?”

  “Judging by the last encounter? Squeak squeak. They’re nimble, agile. They can run rings around us.”

  “We’re running rings around each other,” Lucya said, arriving at Jake’s side. “They’re trying to circle us, and we’re trying to circle them. We’re keeping an even distance. We’re out of the range of their weapons at least.”

  “Any sign of life? I mean, has anyone actually seen anyone on board?”

  “Nope.”

  “Come on, let’s sit down.” Jake led the others to the table. He looked around at the stony-faced committee members.

  Nobody seemed to know where to begin. Grau Lister scratched his ear.

  “Has anyone asked the obvious question?” Jake raised an eyebrow. “Why is a Norwegian research vessel firing at us?”

  “Who cares why?” Max slapped a huge hand on the table. “The fact is, they did. And for that, I say we blow them out of the water. That fancy submarine must have some torpedoes. Blow the suckers sky high, they deserve it. Shooting at innocent civilians.”

  “Max, please,” Jake said. “Firstly, they didn’t shoot at civilians. Apart from myself, those men were in uniform. Secondly, nobody is torpedoing anyone. And third, if we knew why they were shooting at us, we might be able to negotiate with them.”

  “Negotiate?” Martin stopped staring at his knees and looked up. “Screw that. We leave them to it. Get out of here. Go to Crozon. They’ve led us away from our original objective. We’re not sticking around to negotiate with some reprobate Vikings.”

  “I bet that was what they wanted!” Ella predictably sided with Martin. “They don’t want us to go to Crozon, so they lured us out here!”

  “I think we can dispense with the conspiracy theor
ies,” Jake said calmly. “The Spirit of Arcadia may be an unarmed civilian ship—”

  “Lightly armed,” Max corrected. “Still got some of the anti-piracy weapons.”

  “We may be a civilian ship, but it’s going to take more than the crew of a tiny polar research boat to overpower us. It seems to me more likely that their actions were meant to put an end to our pursuit. They probably just don’t want us following them.”

  “Right!” Martin agreed. “So we stop following them, and get our arses back to where we should be, which is checking out submarine bases for supplies.”

  Silvia spoke next. “I don’t think we should go. We can help them. Twenty people, on that little boat, how much food have they got? They need us.”

  Martin, Ella, and Max all countered the point with a barrage of expletives.

  Jake banged a fist on the table, bringing them back to order. “I agree with Silvia that we probably shouldn’t give up on them, not yet. We’ve come all this way to make contact. They’re the first people we’ve seen since the asteroid. There could be plenty of reasons they shot at us. Plenty of innocent reasons. I want to find out more before we turn our backs on them. What do we know so far?”

  “That they’re mad?” Martin offered.

  Jake ignored him.

  “Those rafts you found? Pretty sure they came from the Lance,” Max said. “Hard to tell for sure, but I’d say she’s missing a few.”

  Jake’s mind flashed back to the words Vicky Mitchell had spoken. “Traitor scum.” What did that even mean? Had they killed members of their own crew? And why was the writing Korean? It made no sense, but he wasn’t ready to share the information with the others. He knew what they would say: get away from there, fast. “Amanda, you’re being very quiet. What do you think?”

  Everyone turned to look at the woman seated at the end of the table. She hadn’t said a word since Jake had arrived on the bridge.

  “I think…” she began. She looked at every person in turn, then started again. “I think we should have a team from the submarine mount an operation, at night, to take the Lance. Capture the crew. Take them prisoner.”