by James Cooke
Sarah bought a cheap atlas book, and, after finding the destination, it was a sobering thought to learn that Marion Island was about another thousand miles further south; literally halfway to Antarctica.
‘Christ alive, how the hell are we going to get there? Don’t tell me we’ll fly because I won’t believe you.’ Brian said to Sarah.
‘C’mon Brian, have I ever let you down? Have a little faith, I’ll think of something.’
‘Okay but you do know that it’ll be freezing down there if the weather here is anything to go by.’
Brian suggested that they should buy some appropriate clothing from an outdoors store before they went any further. They found a suitable store nearby and viewed the off the shelf items of clothing. Brian and Sarah grabbed some outdoor wet weather gear; however, Lucy declined, instead choosing a blue wetsuit with yellow striping. It was the closest thing which resembled her original skin like attire.
Sarah remarked how nice she wore it, and while Brian couldn’t disagree, he knew deep down, it was too conspicuous. But he couldn’t bring himself to ask her to change into something else, instead deciding to take the risk.
‘Umm, what can I say. I can’t deny she looks good in it, but will she be warm enough do you think?’
Sarah rolled her eyes, ‘I’m sure she knows what she’s doing Brian, stop worrying,’ she quipped.
Later that morning, Brian read a fact book he had found in the outdoors shop, about Marion Island; and he gleaned what he could about the place in preparation for the journey ahead. After checking out of the hotel, they all took a cab back to the airport.
Brian said to Lucy, ‘Another flight I’m afraid Lucy. Fortunately, it’ll be a short one, just over an hour.’
‘I have a question.’ Lucy replied.
Brian was taken aback by this; it was a welcome thing. Up until now, Lucy hadn’t made much of an attempt to converse with Brian or Sarah; she just seemed happy to go along with everything without any fuss.
‘Sure Lucy, go ahead ask away.’
‘Are all of your sky carriages the same?’
Brian and Sarah frowned non-plussed at each other.
‘Sky carriages? Do you mean aeroplanes, the thing that we flew in across the ocean?’ Brian asked.
‘Yes, that is correct.’
‘Ah okay, well yes more or less, why do you ask?’
‘They seem to be very slow. Do they use anti-matter drives?’
Sarah gawped, open-mouthed.
‘Not exactly, nothing quite as sophisticated as that, just jet engines and aviation fuel. So what are anti-matter drive’s anyway, do you know about them.’ Sarah asked.
‘Yes, I have detailed knowledge of their workings. I believe my creators programmed me with this information in case anything went wrong with the ship’s propulsion units.’
‘You mean the ship which brought you here.’
‘Yes. It had two anti-matter drives. The creators use them to create a negative energy bubble around the ship so that it is unaffected by gravity. It also helps to enable the ship to travel close to the speed of light.’
Sarah gawped in amazement.
‘Brian, you do know what this means.’ Sarah piped up.
‘No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.’ he replied.
‘The crashed ship, you told me it was fairly intact. The government will no doubt now be transporting it off to some secret base, where they’ll attempt to figure out how everything works.’
‘Is that necessarily a bad thing, I mean what would you rather have happened to it?’ he replied.
‘Well, it depends on how you look at it. Just imagine for a minute if our scientists manage to figure out how the ship works and then reverse engineer everything and create their own working version. There are plenty who think that might give us, in the USA, such a massive technological lead over the rest of the world that it could lead to war; and I don’t just mean a small proxy war in some shit hole part of the world; I mean a new world war.’
Brian screwed his eyes up in doubt, I wonder where she gets all this from?
‘Isn’t that a bit far-fetched Sarah, c’mon have a bit of faith.’
‘Do you read a lot of history, Brian? No, well I could give you a lot of examples…’
Brian cut Sarah off mid-sentence, he wasn’t in the mood for a history lesson.
‘Sarah, Sarah, please. Perhaps some other time. Can we just get on this flight and get it over with? I’m friggin knackered. I just want to focus on getting to the Island, that’s all.’
‘Yeah, of course, we can. I’m sorry, bad habit. I just get a bit carried away a bit when once I get going.
I’m right though, this could be a big problem later, thought Sarah.
After reading the fact book from cover to cover during the flight down to Port Elizabeth, Brian was apprehensive as to what lay ahead. It slowly sank in that Marion was going to be totally different from anything they had encountered before. Up until now, he had let Sarah take the lead, which seemed fair since she was the one financing everything out of her own deep pockets. Admittedly, Brian knew that he and Lucy might not have made it this far without Sarah’s help and guidance.
Brian simply didn’t have the money required to finance a trip of this sort. Nevertheless, he didn’t want to lose sight of the fact that this was, after all, his and Lucy’s mission.
The flight so far had seemed routine to Brian, the lights were dimmed, and many people were sleeping. Suddenly without warning, the plane shook violently, and all of the seat belt signs came on. The intercom pinged, and the stewardess announced that they were experiencing turbulence, and told everyone to fasten their seatbelts. One moment the plane felt as if it were plunging to the ground, the next as if it were being dragged upwards by some unknown force. It felt worse than the Behemoth roller coaster ride in Vaughan, Ontario which Brian and Megan had visited last year.
Brian gripped the armrests as hard as he could, without realising that Sarah’s hand was already there. ‘Brian, BRIAN! That’s my hand you’re crushing,’ Sarah said.
‘Oh Jesus, I’m sorry, Sarah. I don’t like flying, can you tell?’
The plane shook violently again.
‘Christ, is this normal?’ Brian asked.
Sarah reassured Brian, appreciating he was a rookie at this.
‘Relax Brian, it’s not unusual, it’s just a bit of turbulence, that’s all. The pilot will get us through it any moment I should think.’ Sarah replied.
Closing his eyes, Brian tried to relax and randomly thought of beer. It didn’t have the desired effect.
That does it for me, I’m never flying again, I’ve had enough of it to last a lifetime. The plane couldn’t land soon enough as far as Brian was concerned, and he wondered about the next leg of the journey. He assumed that you wouldn’t be able to just to hop on a flight to Marion Island, but in fact, the last leg of the journey would surely have to be by sea?
Shortly after they had landed, Brian explained how he felt about flying to Sarah and his thoughts about making the last leg to Marion Island by sea.
Bless him, not so tough after all, are you Brian? Who’d have thought such a big strapping truck driver like you would be scared of a little bit of turbulence, thought Sarah.
Sarah replied, ‘Don’t worry Brian. You’ll be pleased to know there are no flights to the Island, not civilian anyway. By boat is the only way, from what I’ve read.’
She chose not to mention how they might eventually return home, that was something that could wait for another day.
‘You okay Lucy, no concerns?’ Sarah asked.
‘I am okay, I have no concerns other than being conscious of time.’
‘You’re right, we need to crack on. Let’s get out of here and find a hotel.’ Brian added.
Chapter 19
Heading east in the south Atlantic Ocean, the American nuclear-powered USS George H.W Bush Nimitz class super aircraft carrier slowly made her way towards Marion Island; she
was some two-hundred miles away. Partially due to her enormous size, over three-hundred and thirty meters in length with a displacement of over one hundred thousand tons, she usually provided a reasonably stable pitch and even keel on the world’s oceans. However, in this part of the Southern Ocean, in the circumpolar current, things were about as bad as they could get. The roaring forties were living up to their name, as they battered the carrier’s topside with one hundred miles per hour constant gusts of wind. The torrential rain lashed the windows of the bridge like a thousand high-powered jet washes. Fifty-foot waves battered the hull like giant sledgehammers, and occasionally rogue one hundred footers threatened to sink her. Standard aircraft take off, and landings would be all but suicidal under the current conditions. On the bridge, Captain Johnson tried as hard as he could to view the horizon for signs of Marion Island, but the motion of the ship and the thick grey clouds made it very difficult. As the hours went by, very slowly the stormy weather conditions eased off to a mere forty miles per hour gale and the rain had subsided to a simple vertical downpour.
Slowly the horizon became more discernible, until finally, there it was. In the middle of the wild and deep aquamarine sea, rose Marion Island like a gigantic fortress fifteen miles across and nearly a mile high. Captain Johnson gave the order to Lieutenant Commander Wilson, ‘Commander, inform our guest that we have arrived. Get the Sikorsky prepped for a drop-off.’
‘Aye-aye sir.’
Eghert was reading a book when a knock on the door of his small cabin came.
‘Yes, what is it?’ he barked, snapping his book closed.
‘Sir, Captain Johnson wishes to inform you that we have arrived.’
Eghert tossed the book aside and opened the door. The Boatswain's mate was a taken aback and instinctively stepped back.
‘Where is the Captain now?’ Eghert asked in an abrupt tone.
‘He’s up on the bridge sir, shall I tell him that you’ll join him,’ the young mate asked.
Eghert didn’t hesitate.
‘Yes, tell him I’ll be there very shortly.’
Eghert was an unwelcome guest on his ship as far as Captain Johnson was concerned. At a moment’s notice, the Admiralty had ordered him to cease his joint manoeuvres with the Royal Navy off the east coast of the Falklands and head due east for Marion Island. Not only that, but he was to take on board a team of classified personnel especially flown over by a top-secret USAF B-21 long-range bomber to an air airbase in Cape Town. They wouldn’t give any specific details only that it was a matter of national security. He figured that as it was just a drop off exercise, and that once concluded, he could head north and to the relatively calmer waters off the east coast of Africa. Eghert quickly got dressed and made his way up to the bridge.
‘Commander Eghert! So good of you to join us. There she is, your destination, sou'-sou'-west, approximately fifteen miles.’
Captain Johnson passed the binoculars to Eghert.
‘Excellent Captain. I see that you’ve already got the Sikorsky prepared, thank you.’
Captain Johnson projected an air of indifference.
‘Well I don’t know what the hell all the fuss is about Marion Island, but as far as I’m concerned, we’re out of here Colonel Eghert as soon as that chopper returns. You’ll have to make your own arrangements to get back to wherever it is you’ve come from.’
Eghert scoffed at Captain Johnson.
‘It’s a classified operation Captain; you don’t need to worry about us. But thanks anyway for your cooperation. I’ll be sure to let your superiors know you fully cooperated in this exercise.’
And with that said, Eghert left and gathered his team together.
A short while later, Eghert and his team of six agents boarded the Sikorsky. Ten minutes later, they touched down on the Marion Island research base helipad. The station officer, Paul Phillips and another member of staff, Dr Hillary Swain, were standing by waiting to greet them.
‘Paul, who are these people, they look like a TV show SWAT team, are they ours?’ Swain asked.
‘Yeah aren’t they just, all I know is that we’re supposed to accommodate them, give them free access to the base and the Island, and before you ask, no, they’re not ours, they’re American.’
‘American! What on earth are they doing here, I don’t understand.’
‘Neither do I Hillary, but I’ve been instructed by our boss back at the institute not to get in their way, so let’s do just that. I’ll brief the rest of our team. In the meantime, once they’re here if you could show them to their quarters and give them a quick overview of the base, that’d be appreciated.’
‘Whatever you say, you’re the boss.’
‘Thanks, Hillary, I owe you one.’
Swain rolled her eyes, ‘Very well, since you asked so nicely, and yes you do owe me one!’
After the Sikorsky finished parking, Eghert and his team made their way to the main entrance; Phillips and Swain stood waiting to greet their visitors. Eghert led his entourage and made his way to the waiting hosts.
‘Gentlemen, I’m Paul Phillips, the base officer, and this is Dr Swain, head of our meteorology team. Will you gentlemen be staying long?’
‘As long as it takes Mr Phillips. I’m Colonel Eghert, and these are my associates. Do you have accommodation for us?’ Eghert wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries, and this was made immediately apparent.
Phillips appeared somewhat put out; he wasn’t used to anyone being quite so direct.
‘Well, yes, we have an accommodation block ready for you and your men. It’s got everything I think you’ll need. Dr Swain will take you there now if that’s okay with you?’ Phillips replied without smiling this time.
Swain piped up, ‘Gentlemen, if you would follow me please.’
Phillips went back to the base, alone, and gathered the entire team. He had a hard job trying to explain why seven US military people were to be given a free run on the Island for an unknown period of time doing god knows what. What’s more, they had even brought off-road motorbikes and what appeared to be large weapon cases. Before Swain left them to it in block H, which was away from the main base, she caught sight of a couple of them opening up one of the metal cases; machine guns, and lots of them. What in the name of god are they up to, it seems like they’re going to launch a war or something, she thought? Apart from her colleagues at the base, who didn’t have one gun between them as far as she knew, there was nobody else on the Island to shoot at, so why all the weapons. She slipped away and headed back to the central office to warn the others.
Chapter 20
Brian, Lucy, and Sarah had only been in Port Elizabeth for less than twenty-four hours, long enough for Sarah to take a dislike to the place. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she felt that the sooner they left the foreboding quarter, the better as far as Sarah was concerned. After a simple evening meal, Sarah and Lucy went for a short walk together. Brian remained in their hotel bar and struck up a conversation with the bartender; old man Frederick.
‘American, eh! You’re a long way from home Mr.’ Frederick asked, serving Brian a beer.
‘Ain’t I just? Cheers.’
They chatted for a while before Brian revealed their intent to go to Marion Island.
It was at this point that Frederick let it be known that his younger brother, Captain Gustav, was a fisherman and the skipper of a fifty-foot trawler; the aptly named Forties Siren. Not only that but as luck would have it, she was due to leave port tomorrow afternoon on a month’s fishing trip. Frederick suggested that Captain Gustav might be persuaded to take passengers aboard for suitable remuneration.
Brian retired that evening to a flea-bitten bed and planned in his mind how best to convince Sarah that going to see Captain Gustav might be a great opportunity. The following morning, they met for breakfast, and it occurred to Brian that this might be their last decent meal for quite a while. With that in mind, Brian ordered a bit of everything on the menu.
�
��Good grief, hungry, are we Brian?’ Sarah asked, highly bemused.
‘Well you’d be right to think so, but there is a method to this madness. You see I got talking to Frederick last night, you know the old bartender guy.’
‘No but carry on.’
With great enthusiasm, Brian told Sarah about the Forties Siren setting off on a fishing trip.
‘So, what do you think, shall we at least give it a try?’ he concluded.
Sarah wasn’t keen on the idea at all, she screwed her face up and rubbed her forehead.
‘Well, I suppose so. Well done Brian, I wouldn’t have guessed that you could be so resourceful.’
‘I’m a man of many talents, Sarah’ he replied before tucking back into his double bacon and eggs.
Sarah craved for an avocado, tofu, and quinoa salad and a cup of lapsang souchong tea, but she knew it would be pointless asking.
‘Just one thing though Brian, you know that I hate boats and stinking fishing boats even more. I want you to make it perfectly clear that we are not there to assist him in any way. If I’ve got to pay for this little trip, we are strictly passengers only, okay?’
‘Absolutely Sarah, couldn’t agree more. I don’t particularly want to get my hands dirty either,’ Brian replied.
After they had finished breakfast and checked out, a taxi took them down to the docks where the driver said all the fishing boats would be. Sarah nodded, it did indeed seem like the spot; for there were several dozen fishing boats of all sizes moored up. Brian and Sarah both knew that they must have appeared to be very conspicuous judging by the attention they were attracting from the locals. Sarah was grimacing due to the pungent aroma of shellfish, crab, lobster, and fish everywhere. Brian let it be known that he too found the smell to be pretty strong and suggested it was probably due to various discarded and rotting specimens left out in the sun; which was rising quickly. He glanced across at Lucy who appeared to be entirely composed; she wasn’t pulling any funny faces, and he wondered whether or not she could smell the fish. Do Androids hate the smell of rotting fish? It kind of sounded familiar though Brian.