Sedulity 2: Aftershock (Sedulity Saga)

by David Forsyth

  The passengers who had gone into the dining room and those in line to check on their accommodations were still thinking about the necessities of life. Those who remained in the theater were still actively engaged in the horrific news on television. However, the people he saw roaming the lounges and corridors were listless and forlorn. Many of them wandered alone, and Hank assumed they were consumed by grief for a loved one lost to fire or drowning. That was understandable. Others had probably realized that their homes, families, and friends were already gone, or about to perish beneath devastating tsunamis. Hank could sympathize with their shocked reactions as well, but couldn’t afford to share them. He focused on the fact that he was a survivor and would do whatever he could to stay that way.

  *****

  Amanda escorted Rachel from the med center to the dining room. Rachel said she wasn’t hungry and wanted to check on any news of her husband, as well as the status of their honeymoon suite. However, the line was so long and the prospect so discouraging that Rachel decided to put that task off for later. Amanda told her to sit down and stood in line at the table where they were compiling lists of survivors and missing passengers. It moved much faster than the line for room assignments. She reached the woman making the lists and reported Rachel Brewer as a surviving burn victim, as well as Brad Brewer as missing. A cursory review of the alphabetical list of survivors on the woman’s laptop showed no sign of Brad. Amanda thanked the woman and returned to Rachel with the sad news.

  “Thanks, for checking,” Rachel said without any outward sign of emotion. “I’m sure he drowned when we were separated. His burns were much worse than mine. The flooding probably came as a relief.” She lowered her head and closed her eyes, trying to recall all of the good times they had shared.

  Amanda’s heart went out to her. She couldn’t leave the poor woman sitting on a waterlogged couch. “Would you like to come up to the suite where we’re staying? It’s right next to the bridge and wasn’t damaged last night. I need to check on my daughter, but you can use the bed to get some sleep. You look like you need it.”

  “Thank you,” Rachel said with obvious surprise. “That sounds like much more than I could have asked for.” She glanced at the other passengers milling around outside the dining room and realized that none of them would get such a good offer that day. “Yes, thank you, Mrs. Summers.”

  “Please call me Mandy, especially if you’ll be sleeping in our bed today,” she smiled, trying to lighten Rachel’s mood a bit. “After you’re rested I’ll ask Mrs. Krystos about finding you a bed of your own. I’m afraid that most of the rooms were damaged by fire or flooding, but I’m sure they’ll find beds for everyone, especially those injured as badly as you’ve been.” Amanda inspected the bandages on Rachel’s face and arms. “Are you in much pain?” she asked.

  “Not much, Mandy,” Rachel replied, wincing when she tried to smile.

  “Well, let’s get you to bed,” Amanda said, leading Rachel towards the atrium elevators. A crewman was stationed there to prevent passengers from going to the upper decks. Even the staterooms that were deemed habitable were still off-limits while the crew worked to clean up the mess. However, Amanda was wearing Staff Captain Stevens’ foul weather gear and, when she explained that her family had been placed in his former stateroom by Captain Krystos himself, the crewman allowed them to use the elevator.

  Riding up the side of the atrium in a glass elevator offered a different perspective on the damage inflicted upon the Sedulity. Looking down to the bottom of the atrium, Amanda saw members of the crew sifting through big piles of furniture and debris that had been swept down from the decks above. When she saw them pull a body out from one such pile, she realized that it could be Rachel’s husband, or would remind her of his uncertain fate, so she pointed across the atrium at the decks they were passing and said, “Oh dear, look at what’s happened to this beautiful ship.”

  Every deck showed some degree of damage from fire and flooding. The ship’s two story library that faced the atrium was a gutted shell of its former self. Nearly all of the books had been stripped from the shelves when the ship encountered the tsunamis. Those books now lay in soggy piles where the flooding had deposited them. The internet café on the deck above was in equally bad shape, littered with shattered computers, printers, and display screens. Even the card room looked like a tornado had ripped through it, piling the card tables against one wall and shattering the windows overlooking the atrium.

  Exterior windows encircling the top of the atrium had also been shattered, allowing wind driven rain to penetrate the ship. It was surreal to see the rain fall down into the ten story atrium, providing the illusion that the ship was still being flooded. Amanda could only imagine what it had been like when giant waves engulfed the upper decks and poured into the atrium like massive waterfalls. She shivered, remembering her own experience on the forward stairwell when the flood waters had surged down the corridors and threatened to sweep her and her daughter away with them. Amanda was relieved when the elevator stopped and the doors opened. Rachel looked shocked by what she had seen in the atrium and followed Amanda silently towards the bridge.

  *****

  Kevin Summers continued to study the weather station data and monitor the satellite images that were updated every five minutes with increasingly disturbing pictures of the expanding storm clouds. There was also a television in the navigation room that was tuned to GNN. They were broadcasting continuous live coverage of the unfolding disaster. Kevin was listening to reports of devastation throughout Central America, caused not only by tsunamis, but also volcanic eruptions in Nicaragua and Guatemala. Kevin took particular note of the spreading volcanic dust clouds which were already showing up on satellite images, spreading north towards Mexico. He was startled when Captain Krystos stepped into the room from the bridge.

  “How does it look now?” the captain asked. “Any change in the weather?”

  “Marginal improvement,” Kevin replied. “The wind hasn’t fallen much since we turned into it and the pressure remains alarmingly low, but it’s still too soon for that to mean much. If anything, I’d say the central storm is intensifying and conditions are getting worse closer to the impact zone. That means the effects are also spreading out, so it will be some time before we outrun the increasing severity of this storm. It’s a good thing we turned away when we did.” Kevin touched the computer keyboard and set up a continuous loop of local satellite images from the previous hour.

  “We’re right about here,” Kevin pointed west of the obvious asteroid impact zone. “The expanding upper level cloud cover above us is moving as fast as the jet stream at over two hundred miles per hour. Surface winds don’t show up on these images, but you can see multiple areas of rotation where upper and lower atmospheric forces are interacting. We can expect massive tornados, or waterspouts, to develop in any of these locations.” He tapped several spinning cloud formations on either side of the Sedulity’s current position.

  “Heaven help us,” the captain intoned. “What will God throw at us next? The kitchen sink?”

  Kevin tried to offer a smile, failing in the face of grim reality. “I wouldn’t be surprised by anything. An asteroid strike can unleash almost every type of natural disaster imaginable. I’m afraid that tsunamis, earthquakes, and volcanoes are just the beginning of what’s in store for the world.”

  “You really know how to cheer someone up, Mr. Summers,” Captain Krystos said with half a grin. “Do you have any more good news to share?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Kevin admitted. “Not at the moment. I’m far too worried about my home and all of my friends and coworkers being washed away within the next half-hour.”

  “Of course,” the captain said seriously. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make light of the situation. It must be horrible for you and other passengers whose homes are in the path of this disaster. Please excuse my bad timing and poor choice of words. We are truly indebted to you for all the advice and assistance
you’ve provided thus far.”

  “My worries are nothing compared to yours, Sir,” Kevin said. “My family is with me. My parents, and my wife’s parents, live far from the West Coast. They should be safe for now. I’m terrified for my friends and coworkers in Los Angeles. I probably won’t have a house or a job to go back to. Nevertheless, we’re still alive. Our continued survival and the safety of this ship are in your hands, Captain. I wouldn’t want to trade places with you for a million dollars.”

  “You forget that I’ve been relying on your advice since this whole mess started. It’s been damned good advice, too, even if you directed us a little too close to the point of impact for comfort. We’ll get through this.” The captain paused to grip Kevin’s shoulder. “I still need your guidance, Mr. Summers, and the rest of the world is desperate for the data you are collecting here. As soon as internet access is restored, I want to transmit your weather data and projections.”

  “Of course, Captain,” Kevin said. “I’ll try to keep you posted on the weather ahead of us too. It’s difficult to be precise with the weather radar knocked out, but I can get a rough idea of conditions by overlaying the latest satellite images onto the moving map GPS plotter.”

  “Excellent,” the Captain said. “Keep me posted on any new developments. We’ll be gathering in my dayroom while your president addresses the nation. Please join us, if you want to.”

  *****

  Lieutenant Reiner felt much better after the captain addressed the crowded theater and allowed the survivors to move into the main dining room if they chose to. More than half of those in the theater had taken him up on the offer. Reiner suspected that many of them were not really hungry, and that their decision to leave the theater was influenced by a combination of curiosity to see the damage outside, or a desire to hide from the terrible news unfolding on television. Reiner understood both motivations and was glad for their departure. It made his job easier to know that only those who chose to watch the coming disaster on television would be exposed to it.

  He saw Hank Donner return to the theater with two other passengers on his heels. The Texan tipped his hat to Reiner and headed for an empty row of seats near the front, ushering his companions in before taking the aisle seat. Mr. Donner had been a pain in the ass for much of the previous night. Now he seemed to be adapting to the crisis better than most. The man was obviously used to the best of everything that money could buy, but he also appeared to be a realist who knew how to adapt when necessary. Reiner would keep an eye on him as both the source of potential trouble and, possibly, an asset to the ship.

  The lieutenant swept his gaze over the rest of the audience, noting the tense atmosphere, and turned his attention back to the projection screen. The sound had been restored and a panel of talking heads were making guesses at how catastrophic the tsunamis would be when they hit California. The scene switched to a view of the regular GNN anchorman, Fox Rusher, atop a mountain with the earthquake ravaged city of Los Angeles behind him. The familiar face looked far less composed than normal and his voice rose an octave when he joined the conversation. Reiner wasn’t at all surprised.

  “Time is running out for the people of Southern California, and it seems certain that many of them will not reach high ground before the tsunami waves arrive. Though we already know about thousands of fatalities from the earthquake, those losses will fade in comparison to what we expect to face next.”

  “Yes, Fox, we understand the dire situation there. The prayers of the nation and the world are going out to you and everyone else caught in the path of destruction.”

  “Thank you, John. It’s truly terrifying for the people here. I can assure you that many of them are sending prayers with far more urgency than those of our audience. It’s a matter of life and death for millions of people along this coastline. Those able to reach high ground today have done so. We can only pray that we are high enough above sea level and far enough inland to survive what’s in store for us.”

  “We’ll be following the situation there in Los Angeles closely, Fox. Now we go live to the White House where the president is about to address the nation.”

  Everyone in the ship’s theater focused on the screen when the Presidential Seal appeared. A few seconds later it was replaced by a live shot of the Oval Office. The president sat motionless behind his desk, looking down at his notes. Then he lifted his head, clasped his hands together on the desk in front of him and began speaking.

  “My fellow Americans, people of the world, let us pray. Pray to God in your own way, according to your own beliefs, and ask whatever higher power you pray to for mercy upon all those in peril today. Pray for all the souls of those who have already been lost, and for those soon to follow. Pray for the strength to accept the losses we suffer today. And pray for the will to endure these trials and tribulations; the strength to survive this test as a nation, a civilization; pray for the strength and the commitment to help those who will suffer in the wake of this catastrophe.”

  The president paused and looked uncomfortable for a moment.

  “I am not a preacher. I have not always been openly religious, but I am a man of deep faith and conviction. I feel closer to God and my spiritual roots now than ever before, for it is often only in the depths of despair that we find salvation. As the old saying goes, there are no atheists in a fox hole. Well, my friends, we are all in that fox hole today.

  “Our world has been struck by an Act of God -- a disaster of biblical proportions. No one is to blame for what has befallen our planet. No man, no nation, or group of nations, can stop the forces of nature that have been unleashed until they run their course. We have lost millions of human beings already today. Millions more will join their fate before this day is done. Nothing can be done to change that. However, many of us will live to see another day. We will live to mourn. We will live to remember. We will live to rebuild. We will live for the sake of all we have lost and all that can be ours once more.” The president paused, as if he could feel the reaction of the world to his words. He raised a hand to rub his temple, as if suffering a migraine headache, and continued in a softer voice.

  “I have done all that I could do to evacuate people from the West Coast, though it was not nearly enough to prevent a human catastrophe. Reports indicate that millions of our fellow Americans remain trapped in the danger zone. My heart and my prayers go out to them and everyone… who… oh…no….” The president of the United States stopped short. His eyes opened wide for a moment as his hand fell from his head to clasp his chest. Then his head tilted forward and he collapsed face first onto the notes piled upon his desk.

  A woman dressed in a military uniform and clutching what looked like an old fashioned doctor’s bag and a handheld electronic device dashed into view on live television, followed by several Secret Service agents. They began to attend to the president in the seconds before the screen abruptly switched back to a screen shot of the Presidential Seal.

  The television remained silent for a few moments, as if the commentators didn’t know what to say for once. In the Sedulity’s theater there were gasps and even a few stifled screams. A buzz of voices tinged with disbelief erupted among the crowd. The audience had braced themselves for the worst news possible – confirmation that millions were about to perish in California – but they were not prepared to see the president of the United States drop dead on live TV. If that was indeed what had happened, then a situation that couldn’t possibly get worse had just done so.

  *****

  “Did we just see what I think we saw?” Kevin asked everyone in the captain’s dayroom.

  “Jesus Christ!” Professor Farnsworth exclaimed. “That looked like a stroke, or a massive cardiac arrest.”

  “It didn’t look good at all,” Captain Krystos said sadly. “I can’t imagine the stress he’s been under.”

  “Yes, you can,” Kevin replied. “He’s just been commanding a larger ship than you have, Captain. I’m sure you’re feeling the same kind of s
tress as he was. I’m glad you seem to be dealing with it better than he did.”

  Captain Krystos nodded slightly. It was true that he felt a heavy weight of responsibility for the ship and the lives of all aboard her. He had actually broken down and cried his eyes out in bed during the night, blaming himself for the death of so many who followed his orders to gather at their lifeboat muster stations after the asteroid strike. Lydia had done her best to convince him that none of it was his fault, but was unable to relieve his deep seated feelings of guilt. It was a heavy burden, forcing him to agree with Kevin’s observation. He could indeed identify with the stress of command during a disaster.

  By this time the television picture had switched back the GNN studio in Washington. The panel of experts appeared to be in shock, unsure of what to say about what they had all witnessed. There was a consensus that something had affected the president, but disagreement as to what, or how serious it might be. A young woman reporter displayed optimism by suggesting he might simply have fainted under the stress. Others offered more dire explanations. With no statement immediately forthcoming from the White House, they could only agree that any incapacitation of the president couldn’t have come at a worse time. Whatever words of comfort and encouragement he had intended to offer in the face of the impending disaster on the West Coast would never be heard - at least not before it was too late to matter. The political experts were left with nothing to evaluate but prayers, yet they agreed that there might not have been much more left to say.

  Glancing at his watch, Captain Krystos said, “We have about fifteen minutes before the waves reach San Diego. After that it will be non-stop decimation while the tsunamis sweep up the West Coast over the rest of the day. I’m not sure how much of that I can stomach watching on television.”