Noah's Ark: Encounters

by Dayle, Harry

  “I’ll go,” Jake volunteered.

  “I’ll come with you,” Lucya said. “I’m going down to engineering to see how long before they get the emergency power on.”

  Vardy looked at her. “And?”

  “Okay. And on the way I can check the classroom and make sure Erica is okay.”

  • • •

  “Dan, will you stop pacing, you’ll wear out the carpet….ooh!” Vicky’s last word twisted into a long and pained groan.

  Dan ran to her, kneeling in front of where she was perched on the end of the bed. “That’s another one!” I should have timed it. How long ago was that explosion?

  Vicky puffed and puffed, then let out a long sigh. “It’s not another one. It’s just cramp. Stop worrying, will you?”

  “Stop worrying? Are you mad? That’s two contractions! You’re obviously going into labour!”

  She eased herself back until she was lying on the bed. “Don’t be daft. It’s not due for another two weeks yet. It’s too soon. It’s just cramp. That explosion made me jump, that’s all.”

  Dan started pacing again. He looked at his watch, spoke to himself, then out loud. “I think I should fetch Doctor Vardy. He’ll know.”

  “No! Don’t leave me on my own.”

  “Why? If it’s just cramp…”

  “It is just cramp. But still, I’d rather you stayed with me. Look, if and when my waters break, that’s when we’ll call the doctor, okay? Listen, calm down. It’s not as if we have a long drive to a maternity unit ahead of us. We can be in the medical centre in minutes Or Doctor Vardy and Carrie can come here.”

  “I’d like one of them to come here now.”

  “There’s no point wasting their time over nothing. They’ve got those people from the other ship they need to be helping. They don’t want us getting in the way.”

  Dan was far from convinced, but he knew better than to argue with his wife. “Just promise me, if anything changes, you’ll tell me and I’ll go and get Carrie, okay?”

  She nodded, but avoided his eye.

  • • •

  The ability for rumours to spread like wildfire through the Spirit of Arcadia was both a good and a bad thing. As many untruths and half-truths were in circulation as facts at any one time. Misinformation was disseminated with alarming rapidity. On this particular occasion, the gossip network was something of a blessing. As Jake and Lucya made their way down to medical in search of a stretcher and trolley, they encountered people on every deck who were confused, injured, or both.

  Everyone wanted to know what had happened.

  “Is the ship sinking?

  “Did someone attack us?”

  “Was there an underwater earthquake?”

  “Are we safe?”

  “Why did the power go off?”

  “Where is the Ambush?”

  The couple quickly realised it was better they split up. By taking different routes they could more efficiently get the truth out. At least, as much as they knew of the truth.

  “The Ambush was attacked. We don’t know by whom. They missed. We’re not sinking. The power will be back on soon.”

  The majority of people were understanding about the lack of detail. Simply being told that they weren’t about to meet a watery grave was enough; the finer points could wait. Not everyone’s curiosity was so easily satiated though. From some, the questions kept on coming.

  “Who attacked the sub?”

  “Will they attack again?”

  “Will they attack us?”

  Jake was sympathetic to this need for information; he wanted answers as much as the next man. Replying — truthfully — that he didn’t have a response led some to question his leadership. But for the most part the community was too preoccupied with dealing with their shock, as well as their cuts and bruises, to be engaged in political shenanigans. Jake made it to the medical suite relatively unscathed.

  He found Carrie on the floor with Coote.

  “Jake! Can you help me get him back onto the bed?”

  “Of course. What happened?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing. He fell when the ship rolled.”

  Jake outlined what they knew about the attack, while the two of them heaved the heavy submarine captain back up onto the bed.

  “Is he going to be alright?”

  “I think from the way he fell that his arm might be broken. I’ll need a second opinion from Doctor Vardy. If only we had x-ray equipment on board…and ultrasound. Poor Vicky Mitchell, we’ve no way of seeing her baby. I listened to its heartbeat and everything sounds normal, but it’s a long time since I did any midwifery. To be honest, I’m as nervous as anything.”

  “You’ll do just fine. Everyone has risen to the challenges of our rather unique situation better than I could have imagined. I have no doubt you will be equally impressive. Now, I need to get back to the bridge with a stretcher. Our helmsman is in a bad way and Vardy wants to bring him down here. I expect he’ll need your help.”

  “I’ll get some space cleared, get us organised.”

  He turned to leave, pushing the trolley with him.

  “Jake?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are they going to try again? Another torpedo?”

  He hesitated, then shrugged his shoulders. “What can we do? The Ambush is out there, somewhere. I just hope she can deal with whatever this threat is.”

  Twenty-One

  MARTIN OAKLEY LOVED the sea, as long as he wasn’t in it. As far back as he remembered, he had loved boats, loved engines, and knew that he wanted to somehow combine the two. When he was eight years old, he’d had the grand revelation that there was such a job as marine engineer, that it was possible to work on ships’ engines and get paid for it. But for all that, he preferred being on the water to under it. He rarely used any of the swimming pools on the Spirit of Arcadia, and never took holidays at the beach. As far as he was concerned, the sea existed purely as a means of making boats work.

  Getting out of the sea was now his primary focus. All he had to do was swim to the tender platform that was suspended just above the water line, and climb out.

  It wasn’t until he had swum half the length of the ship that he realised the tender platform had gone. Part of the metal staircase that descended from the deck-two hatch was still visible. The rest had apparently come loose and detached itself, along with the platform. Given that it was made from steel, it was, he realised with horror, on its way down to the seabed.

  Martin’s limbs were already exhausted from his efforts to escape being crushed. Now it seemed he would have to swim all the way round the cruiser and try to board the Lance, whose hull was much lower and therefore a more realistic prospect for climbing.

  He trod water as he considered the Lance. He’d walked all the way round her deck when he had been carrying out his inspection. He couldn’t recall seeing any ropes, ladders, or other means of getting himself up out of the water. Even if he did make it aboard, the walkway was now gone. He’d be out of the sea, but no closer to getting back to the Arcadia’s engine room.

  Frustrated, he raised his head to the sky and shouted out in rage.

  Which was when he saw the severed umbilical power cord, dangling impotently from the Arcadia. It was ten metres ahead of him, and the end was already in the water.

  • • •

  In her rush to get to the classrooms, Lucya had overlooked the small matter of the lack of power. On the upper decks it wasn’t so much a problem; daylight flooded in through the windows. The lower she descended, the darker it got.

  She continued to be ambushed by questions on every level, slowing her progress. Whilst she tried to remain as polite as possible, her patience began to wear thin. There was confusion and injury on every deck en route, and the more of it she saw, the more worried she became about Erica and the other children. Vardy had been spot on: going to engineering had just been an excuse.

  By deck three there was very little light at all. The
one upside was that it was possible to pass straight through without being noticed, which meant no stopping to answer the same questions.

  Deck two was lit by small portholes. The sun, which had trouble enough penetrating the ever-present thick cloud, didn’t get far into this gloomy area. Most of deck two was the kind of space where the lack of daylight wasn’t a drawback. The sterile conference rooms — now classrooms — the lower level of the cinema, a casino, and crew accommodation. Without power, this warren of corridors and passageways would have been unnavigable for most people. Lucya had been bunked down there for most of her time on the ship, so she could find her way round with her eyes closed. She went directly to the classroom that she had dropped Erica in barely half an hour earlier.

  Her first instinct was to peer through the small window in the door. If Miss Linders had everything under control, there was no need to interrupt. The room was, of course, in almost total darkness. Being in the interior of the ship, it benefitted from no natural light at all. However, it looked like someone — Miss Linders, she presumed — had a torch. Its focussed beam was darting around, picking out the faces of children.

  The youngsters looked terrified.

  “Poor loves,” Lucya whispered under her breath. “Why doesn’t she bring them up to another deck?” She pushed at the door to go and suggest that to the schoolmistress.

  The door did not move.

  Lucya rattled the handle, but the room had been locked shut. She rapped three times on the glass panel. “Miss Linders? Can you open the door?”

  • • •

  Martin stood on deck four, hands on his knees, water dripping from his clothes, panting heavily. His head was spinning. The physical exertion had been too much. He wasn’t quite sure how he had managed to climb the electrical and navigation umbilical cord when he was already so drained, but he had. The thick plastic ties that clamped the bundle of cables together at regular intervals had been life savers. Every couple of metres he had rested his feet on them, taking the strain from his arms and hands, getting his breath back before pulling himself ever upwards. As he went, he had thought of Stieg. Martin had been in the water for no more than ten minutes and was already chilled to the bone. He couldn’t imagine how Stieg could possibly have survived more than an hour in such conditions.

  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

  JAKE MET DAVE, 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.