“What do you hear, Sam?”
Sam ignored him. His right hand tapping a slight beat onto the side of the wooden table. It was slow at first, then increasing in its tempo. The sound reminded him of classical piano as it changed from fast to slow, and then soft to loud. It sounded mysterious, more like something by Debussy rather than Bach or Chopin.
Tom waited.
Sam turned the radio to off and tapped the same tune with his fingers. The tone was distinct, rhythmical, and compelling.
“What is that?” Tom asked.
Sam stopped what he was doing; his eyes wide with interest. “I have no idea.”
Tom sat down on a chair next to the radio. “I guess you couldn’t get through to the Maria Helena.”
“No,” Sam replied. “All this static is blocking everything.”
Tom looked at the table where Sam had started to drum the same, compelling beat with his fingers again. “Not everything.”
Sam grinned. “I didn’t even realize I was doing that. No, not everything was blocked. Behind all the static this tune seems to be on a continuous transmission.”
The microwave at the other end of the room beeped. Tom stood up again. “That’s our lunch. Dehydrated macaroni and cheese. I would have expected more from the French scientists. Don’t worry about the radio, this storm will be over soon and then it won’t take long for us to return to the Maria Helena.”
“I’m not worried,” Sam replied. “Just curious what that sound was, that’s all. It seems familiar to me. I can’t place it, but I’m sure I’ve heard it before. Somehow, it doesn’t fill me with warm feelings. Instead it reminds me of something terrible that’s happened. A part of my life my mind’s tried to cover up. I just can’t for the life of me think what that is.”
Tom shrugged his shoulders. “It might just be music being broadcast by one of the other science stations. That’s all.”
“You’re probably right.”
Tom and Sam spent the next two days waiting for the storm to subside. The food was boring, but plentiful. Tom spent the time reading a good book. Something about a futuristic world called Prism, by Alan Dean Foster. He enjoyed it. Sam on the other hand, squandered his free time trying to write down the musical score to the sound he’d heard.
It was seven a.m. when the storm passed and they were able to remove the covers off the hovercraft. The Southern Lights display had finished. The sky was dark and crystal clear, providing a horizon filled to the brim with stars.
Tom switched on the electric heating element inside the hovercraft. Within a few minutes it glowed like fire. Twenty minutes later, the important components were warm enough to start the engine. Tom sat in the driver’s seat and flicked on the master switch.
The engine started slowly.
He let it warm up until he was confident that it would make it back to the Maria Helena. Sam left a note for the absent science crew to contact the Maria Helena if they returned, using VHF channel 16. He then closed the front door.
Tom switched the headlights on and the white, fluffy snow reached the horizon. He placed the hovercraft into gear, and the entire thing lifted off the ground as its skirt inflated.
It would be an easy run back to the Maria Helena. The crisp snow covered the undulating landscape for miles. Tom increased the speed of the main propeller, mounted at the rear of the hovercraft, until it reached maximum RPM.
They would reach the Maria Helena soon.
Tom came over the next hill and landed into the icy waters of Weddell Sea. The spray of water shot out in all directions. Next to him, Sam braced his hand on the dashboard as the change in momentum threw him forward.
Tom brought the hovercraft to an idle. In the distance, miles out to sea, he saw the faint outline of a ship – most likely the Maria Helena. “Where the hell did the giant iceberg go?”
Chapter Nine
Sam brought out his computer tablet. He swiped to the side until he found the icon he was looking for and pressed to open it. A moment later the GPS App opened. It positioned them on the very edge of Weddell Sea. He was initially worried they’d approached from a different angle or something and was off course.
He looked at the ship in the distance and correlated it with their current position. “That must be the Maria Helena out there, Tom.”
Tom shook his head. “I gathered that. What I want to know is where the damned island of ice disappeared to? I mean the place was massive. It had a small mountain and everything!”
“Maybe the storm blew it out to sea again?”
“Elise never did work out where the ice had come from, did she?” Tom asked.
“No. Despite reviewing a series of current and recent satellite images of the surrounding coastline and the ice shelf, her computer programs couldn’t determine where the ice mass had come from. It was like the entire landmass of ice just appeared out of nowhere.” Sam shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe it returned there.”
“It came from somewhere. Most likely the bulk of its mass was underwater. That’s the reason Elise’s program can’t find a match on the ice shelf where it broke away from.”
“So then, where did it go now?”
“The storm probably blew it out to sea. I wouldn’t worry. Let’s get back to the Maria Helena and work out what we’re going to do about those missing scientists.”
Sam felt his shoulders sink back in his seat as Tom accelerated again. The hovercraft skimmed across the still water of the bay. Within minutes they were slowing down again, coming to a complete stop on the portside of the Maria Helena. “At least she’s still where we left her.”
“Yeah, she’s one trustworthy girl.”
Sam opened the side hatch and climbed out onto the hovercraft’s rubber skirt.
Veyron peered at them from the side of the Maria Helena. “You two gentlemen picked one hell of a weekend to go camping. Did you find the scientists?”
“No,” Sam said. “We’ll tell you all about it shortly.”
Veyron lowered the winch cable and Sam connected it to the hovercraft’s chain link. Ten minutes later the hovercraft was being secured on the aft deck. Sam and Tom walked into the bridge with Veyron. Matthew and Elise greeted them once they were inside. And a moment later Genevieve brought them both warm minestrone soup.
Matthew smiled at them. “Good to see you made it back. Are all your fingers and toes still intact?”
Sam held up his hands. “No frostbite. Warm hands warm heart.”
Tom grinned. “You don’t have enough good sense to freeze.”
Sam ignored Tom’s comment. He looked at Matthew. “Where the hell did that storm come from, anyway? I thought you said there was nothing significant on the synoptic charts for the next few days?”
“Sorry Sam. There weren’t any signs of the storm on the synoptic charts, radar or satellite weather prediction software. It must have been a localized weather pattern.”
Sam raised his voice, slightly. “It sure didn’t feel like any localized weather system.”
“No. It started fast and it became big,” Matthew agreed. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. At least Veyron got the hovercraft to work in time.” Sam stared at the radar screen. “Any sign of the ice mass which looks like it disappeared just as quickly as it appeared from nowhere?”
Matthew increased the distance on the radar to five miles, and then to ten. “No. We anchored back from it at the start of the blizzard. Throughout the storm we couldn’t see anything more than two feet in front of us. When it all died down and I stepped out on the front deck, the entire iceberg had disappeared. My guess, the storm blew it away.”
“I agree,” Sam said. “You’d better notify the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Agency and any local ships that the massive iceberg is now drifting along the coast somewhere. It may very well cause a similar problem to some of the other science stations further along.”
“I already have,” Matthew confirmed.
“Thanks.” Sa
m clicked on the second man-made structure he could see on the radar. A large ship – most likely a cruise ship. It was much too large to be an icebreaker or a research vessel. It was probably the same one he’d seen from the top of the small ice mountain he’d climbed two days earlier. “What’s their story, they haven’t moved for days now?”
“No idea Sam,” Matthew replied. “It’s the Antarctic Solace, a cruise ship that caters to the adventurous sightseers.”
“Have you tried radioing and seeing if they need any help?” Sam knew that even for a well set up cruise ship, Antarctica could prove fatal to the slightest of mistakes. And being caught in the recent blizzard was a mistake for any captain.
“Yes. Three times. No response whatsoever.”
“That’s unusual. Do you think they’re in some sort of trouble?”
“The funny thing is… you said you saw the cruise ship out there two days ago when you were on the ice mountain?”
“Yes. What difference does it make?”
“Well, our Automatic Identification System didn’t pick them up at all until a couple of hours ago. Even then, when I looked at her automatic logging information, her last known location based on her satellite tracking was more than six hundred miles to the north of us.”
Sam consciously thought about how such an advanced system could be so confused. “Not a problem. This is what happens when people let computers take over sailing. What about our radar log. When did it pick them up in the distance?”
Matthew squirmed and then replied. “I’m afraid it too seems to have the same confusion about the facts. It only picked them up two hours ago. It’s like it just materialized from thin air.”
“Strange. Have you tried contacting her shore side operators?”
“Yes,” Matthew replied. “According to their company, they were supposed to anchor in McMurdo Sound three days ago, but never showed.”
“Are they at anchor?”
“No, from what we can see using current satellite imaging they’re drifting.”
“All right. We’d better get over there and have a look. Tom and I will take a runabout in case the cruise ship is trapped in ice. Where’s Elise? Her medical skills might be required. Also, I want Veyron – if it’s an engineering problem I want him with us.”
“When are you leaving?” Matthew asked.
“Now, of course.”
Chapter Ten
Alexis settled into a routine on board the Antarctic Solace. She’d given up fearing what she couldn’t see and simply accepted the fact the ship had become stranded. The anchor chain was fully coiled and the steel anchor was in its cradle. As far as she could tell the bow of the ship swung round with the change in wind and currents, but she was certain the ship hadn’t moved. The Antarctic Solace wasn’t aground, but something else, almost intangible was holding her at bay. She was still buoyant, but an invisible restraint stopped her from floating away.
She didn’t believe much in the religious views of life and death, so she doubted very much she’d found herself in some sort of unfortunate limbo of the afterlife. No, she was still alive and someone would come for her. There was infinite food aboard for one person, and even if the power ceased, she would have provisions for keeping the food stores cold on the deck. She settled into a routine of morning exercise, cooking, reading, and generally making use of the freest time she could ever recall having. She even used the swimming pool while it remained warm. She felt a strange comfort in her situation – until the storm began.
The outside world darkened to the blackest of nights in an instant. The noise followed next. It was the sound of gale force gusts of wind and ice pummeling the windows with such ferocity she could have been mistaken for it being produced by machine gun fire raking the Antarctic Solace. Worried the windows would shatter and destroy what little refuge she had left, Alexis climbed the external stairs on the protected side of the ship, and into the secure bridge. With large reinforced glass windows it gave her a clear view of the impending tempest.
She watched the storm unfold. Quickly the swell amplified into large crests of ice and water which raged towards the bow of the ship. Tentatively she watched them crash along the bow, unable to quite see the extent of their destruction from the dark confines of the bridge. Alexis carefully held the side of the navigation table, bracing for the sudden movements that must surely follow each strike.
Blinded by the darkness of the storm her sense of hearing compounded the sounds of the ghastly tempest. She searched the instrument panel and found a section labeled external lighting. Alexis flicked on all deck lights.
The bow of the Antarctic Solace lit up with the warm glow. In the ocean ahead a shadow approached. Only it wasn’t a shadow at all. Instead it was the largest wave she’d ever seen and on its crest were several icebergs, as large as houses.
This is it! Nothing can survive that!
Alexis cowered under the navigation table, certain the entire bridge was about to be destroyed. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the edge of the table and held her breath in anticipation. She then waited for a certain death – that never came.
After a few minutes she let go and then looked at the decking of the bridge. Unable to see the horizon or the outside world, it appeared almost perfectly still. Maybe not quite still, more like the deck of a boat tied up in protected harbor.
When she was certain the wave wasn’t going to crash through the windshield she slowly stood up. Outside the large swell could still be seen. Alexis didn’t believe for a minute the Antarctic Solace was built with such strength to render the massive waves harmless. A ship ten times her size would be thrown around like a toy boat in a storm and yet it was obvious the storm wasn’t affecting the ship.
She closed her eyes and tested the theory. At first she held onto the navigation desk. When it didn’t feel like it was moving, she let go. With her hands held in front of her for protection, she took a wide stance and balanced.
The ground below didn’t move. She opened her eyes. Another large wave approached the bow. She stared at the ground instead of looking out and nothing happened. It confirmed the truth – the ship was stationary, despite the waves crashing into her bow.
Was it all an optical illusion?
She wondered if she was in the midst of a particularly bad dream, or perpetual recollection of the ending of her life.
Almost in response to her question, the violent tempest ceased as quickly as it had manifested. The deadly sea before her being replaced by the calm of an icy millpond, which appeared placid and inviting. The darkness disappeared and once more she was in the perpetual twilight of the approaching Antarctic winter. The water below suddenly so clear she could see the bottom.
So I must be close to shore – but which one?
It might be a hundred feet, maybe two hundred. Its clarity so intense she couldn’t tell for sure. She studied the icy sea, waiting for some sort of sign the storm had returned. Part of her thought for certain she was now only in the eye of the storm, awaiting for the real damage to occur.
But it never came.
Instead, she heard banging.
The continuous banging came from the level below. The Antarctic Solace had a number of automated mechanical systems that made a multitude of clanks and bangs throughout the day and night. Her ears, now highly attuned to the strange sounds of a working ship, recognized the introduction of a new one immediately.
What is that?
It was coming from somewhere below; that much she was sure of. Alexis walked down the stairs and into the level below. Confusion was replaced with fear as recognition dawned. The bangs were coming from the locked door next to the Grand Staircase. The new door – it was yellow, and had been purposely sealed from the inside.
Alexis looked at the door.
Her mind instantly recalled the first time she’d noticed it. She’d been searching the Antarctic Solace for any other survivors and found it. She’d tried the handle but found it was locked from the insid
e. She had taken interest in it only because she thought she’d previously noted it as an emergency doorway to the lower decks in the same place.
In fact she was certain she had identified the door as an emergency exit that led to a small decked area just above the waterline that could be used in an emergency and as a means of traversing onto another small vessel.
She’d wondered at the time if someone had indeed gone to the trouble of locking it. Was it because they wanted to keep her from getting inside? Or, was it because they had wanted to keep something from getting out?
The door banged again and Alexis returned to the present.
She tentatively placed her hand on the door. It vibrated with the sound of a steel striking steel. She removed her hand instantly. Someone was trying to get in. The banging was clearly the sound of a person intentionally driving something to the end of it.
She heard each clank with the combined sense of excitement and fear that she was going to find someone.
But would she want to be left alone with this person?
The door’s large hinges broke free, leaving a slight gap between the door and the steel frame it was bolted to. She saw fingers slip through the gap, feeling their way to the bottom and then back up again, where they stopped at the second hinge. And then disappeared again. Only to be replaced by the edge of a crowbar.
“Hello?”
No response.
She gripped the hilt of the small fire axe she’d been carrying with her wherever she went for protection. It gave her little confidence as she knew, one way or another, she was about to discover what this was all about.
The edge of a crowbar slipped into the gap and was followed by the commencement of the previously mysterious clanking sound – someone was driving the steel bar into the hinge. On the fourth strike, the hinge gave way.
The Sam Reilly Collection Volume 2 Page 31