Noah's Ark: Survivors (12 page)

“You haven’t been elected. There are nearly two thousand passengers on this ship. How many have given their support for this?” Jake raised an eyebrow.

“We don’t have time to ask them all. But I have many supporters.”

“Alright. You get a seat on the bridge. But we’re going to be holding a census tomorrow. We can ask the passengers to vote for a representative at the same time.”

Melvin hadn’t anticipated this, and he wasn’t sure how to react. He certainly couldn’t take the risk of any kind of election, not yet. He needed to prove himself first. He decided to stay on the attack. It had worked quite well so far.

“Yes, there should be an election,” he said. “But it will be for captain of the ship. We set sail tomorrow. We return to port to find out what has happened. If, as the television suggests, the asteroid has destroyed everything, then Pelagios Line is no longer the owner of this ship, and the rules no longer apply, right?”

“That would be the case, yes,” Jake agreed.

“So I will be the representative until we know what has happened. And then, we will hold an election to see who will be the captain. These are my terms. You now have about forty minutes, but it shouldn’t take that long to decide.”

Jake considered the proposition. It seemed fair. The passengers did deserve a say in what happened. And if, as he was sure would be the case, they turned out to be the only survivors of the asteroid, then an election would be the perfect opportunity to stand down. He hadn’t asked to be captain, didn’t want to be captain, and certainly didn’t want to be leader of the last human settlement on earth.
 

“Then we have an agreement,” Jake said. “But I need to see evidence that Tania is untied and being treated properly.”

Max banged his head against the console. “This is a really bad idea,” he groaned.

“Now please release my radio officer, and tell me how we get your message to those holding Tania.”

Melvin nodded to his supporters on the floor, who helped Lucya to her feet then stepped back in with the others behind their leader.

“There must be an announcement from the captain that we will set sail tomorrow morning.”

“I can’t promise that. I don’t know if the engine will be ready by then.”

“You’d better hope it will be, because if you don’t put out that call in the next thirty-five minutes, chomp chomp.”

Jake sighed, walked over to a console, picked up a handset, and flipped up a button marked PA.

• • •

The wardrobe door opened and light streamed in, blinding Tania. Two pairs of hands grabbed her and pulled her roughly from the confines of her prison and onto the cabin floor.

“Congratulations,” a voice above her said. “You just got promoted to passenger.”

Twenty-Four

“I
DON
’
T
UNDERSTAND
, Flynn, how is this good news? Not only are you not in charge, you’re not even the guy on the bridge.”

“You stupid woman, haven’t you listened to anything I’ve said?”

“Yes! I thought you were sending those boys to take over, to organise some kind of mutiny.” Eileen backed away from her husband, his red face a sure sign she was making him angry.

“But they were never going to be put in charge. This is my foot in the door. Now we have a spy on the bridge, someone who can judge the lay of the land. Someone who can plant the seeds of doubt in the crew. While we work on the passengers, Melvin will work on the crew. Softly, softly, Eileen.”

“But if the captain is deposed—”

“When, Eileen.
When
the captain is deposed,” Flynn cut in.

“Sorry, Flynn. When the captain is deposed, won’t Melvin take over?”

“Melvin has a more important role to play than he knows. But trust me when I say that he will never run this ship.”

Twenty-Five

T
HERE
WAS
A
knock at the door to the bridge. Max opened it, letting Martin and Grau in.

“Did we miss something?” Martin asked. “Who were that lot we passed on their way out?”

“Nobody important,” Max grunted.

Melvin cleared his throat loudly. “I wouldn’t say that. Sorry, we haven’t been introduced. I’m Melvin Sherwood, representative of the passengers.”

Grau cast a glance in Jake’s direction, then reached out to shake the new man’s hand.

“Grau Lister, doctor. Chief medical officer. Pleased to meet you.”

Melvin shook his hand limply, then looked at Martin.

“Oakley, Martin. Chief engineer.”

The two men shook hands briefly. Lucya watched the scene, tutted loudly, and walked off to her communications console.

“So, shall we?” Jake said. He led the group over to the map table, now cleared of charts. “Lucya, can you join us?”

“Just checking the radios, be there in thirty seconds.”

There was another knock at the door. Max sighed and went to open it.

“How many more are we expecting?” he called back over his shoulder.

“Two. Silvia, of course, and Claude Dupont,” Jake said.

“Oh Jesus, why the hell did you invite him?” Martin looked aghast.

“If we don’t want to die of starvation or malnutrition, we need to keep Claude on side. And anyway, he’s not so bad. If anyone can keep that kitchen in order and enforce strict rationing, Claude can.”

“He’s French, how do we know he won’t go on strike?” Lucya asked, pulling a face.

“By including him in these meetings. Hi, Claude, thanks for coming. Hi, Silvia.”

They joined the group at the table.

“Claude, I think you know everyone except Melvin Sherwood. He’s here to represent the passengers on board.”

“Who cares what the passengers think about anything? Will you be inviting some penguins up ’ere too? Perhaps the polar bears would like representation?”

“Claude, you know how important it is to listen to everyone’s view. Liberté, égalité, all that?”

“Hmmph.” Claude gave a shrug. He looked around, found a stool, and sat down.

“Silvia Brook, hotel director,” Silvia said, offering a hand to Melvin. He shook it while looking down his nose at her.

“How’s the leg, Grau?” Jake looked sympathetically at the doctor.

“Much improved, yes, thank you. Kiera patched it up for me, and some painkillers and a little rest have helped.”

Lucya stood up from her post, shook her head, and wandered over to the map table. Jake looked at her and raised an eyebrow enquiringly.

“No, nothing. Static on all channels. All the satellite feeds are dead, nothing on the shortwave. I still can’t even find any working navigation beacons. It’s like the world outside just disappeared.”

“Would you say,” Melvin piped up, “that it is therefore likely that Pelagios Line has bitten the dust and that this ship is no longer the property of anyone or any organisation?”

“Now, now, let’s not jump to any conclusions,” Jake said, trying to keep the peace.

“Actually, Mr Sherwood, no I wouldn’t say that.” Lucya fixed him with a stern look. “There could be many reasons for radio silence, including loss of power.”

“Okay, we discussed all this last time.” Jake wanted to move things forward. “We’ll go round the table quickly. Martin, good job on getting the generator going. When do you think we can start the engine?”

“The guys are running their final checks now, but they’re going to have to stop for some rest before long. Cleaning out that funnel took it out of them. We can probably start winding her up slowly around nine hundred hours.”

“Right, that means we can start moving in the morning, as I promised in the last PA call.” He looked pointedly at Melvin as he spoke.

“Grau, things calmed down in medical?”

“Yes, for sure. There is just the problem of the unknowns we talked about.”

“Right. Barry and I will join you down in the temporary morgue in the morning to try and identify any crew. Melvin, I need you to come too; you’ll need to photograph all of the deceased for our records.”

“I’m not your lackey!” Melvin looked shocked.

“No, you’re the passenger representative. You need to pull your weight just like every other department head here. I would have asked the head of housekeeping to perform the task, but she is unfortunately not available for the time being.”

Melvin snarled, but said nothing. Lucya smiled and studied the nails of her left hand.

“Max, anything I need to know about?”

“There was, but the problem has reached a conclusion.” Max was staring at Melvin.

“So, Lucya, where are we headed tomorrow?”

“I’ve plotted a course for Longyearbyen in Svalbard. It’s the most northerly permanent settlement that we can reach with the least fuel. Technically speaking, Barentsburg is nearer, and we’ll have to almost go past it, but it’s difficult to access. We can’t dock there.”

“Svalbard? What use is that? We need to head for Portsmouth, or New York, and see what’s happened to the civilised world!” Melvin said.

“We couldn’t reach either without taking on more fuel,” Lucya said flatly. “And as we don’t know if there is anywhere left where we can get fuel, it would not be prudent to set off on such a pointless voyage. If we go to Longyearbyen, we can assess the state of the place, and possibly find fuel there.”

“Whoa, I thought we were just repositioning, not actually going anywhere?” Martin said.

“We were. But now we’re not. Plans have changed,” Jake replied. He knew that was coming.

“So you take over the ship, then let the passengers run the show? Bloody marvellous, I’ve heard it all now.” Martin walked away from the table and slumped into the chair at Lucya’s radio console.

Jake ignored him, and looked back to Lucya to continue.

“Longyearbyen has diesel reserves that they use for their own vehicles, mostly snowmobiles. If, and it is a big if, the town and its fuel are still there, then we can consider exploring further.”

“How much fuel, if it’s still there?” Jake asked.

“Next to nothing by the standards of what this ship consumes. But there’s an airport three kilometres from the town. This is Martin’s area, but I’m hoping we could use aircraft fuel, as well as the diesel?”

Martin looked up. He couldn’t help but be interested in the technical aspect of the plan.

“Kerosene burns hotter than diesel,” he said. “We’d need to put in some kind of additive, or make some adjustments to the engines.” He rubbed his chin absent-mindedly. “But if we mixed it with the diesel we’re already carrying, it could work. The more diesel we could find though, the less chance of damaging the engines.”

“This sounds excellent, good work, Lucya. How long will it take us to get there?” Jake asked.

“Going slow for better efficiency, it will be about fifteen hours sailing time, but it could be more. I tried to factor in currents, but they are really a guess. The harbour is tiny, but it can take us — just. It will be some tricky manoeuvring. Normally they would supply a pilot, but…well…you know.”

Jake nodded. He understood perfectly. “Claude, how’s the menu going?”

“It is not easy, this job that you ’ave given me. But, I rise to the challenge. With a small breakfast, a modest lunch and dinner, we can feed everyone for twenty-two days. Provided we can keep the freezers running for another week.”

“Great work, Claude. People will already be hungry — we haven’t served food all day,” Jake said. Everyone around the table agreed heartily. “I’ll put out a call announcing breakfast service will start at six hundred hours. You can organise some breakfasts for then?”

“My boys will work through the night.”

“I’ll also announce the passenger manifest. We need to organise it quickly, issue people with meal vouchers at the same time.”

This drew some blank expressions around the table, so Jake filled in all present on his plans for a census, disguised as a passenger manifest, and the reasons why. Melvin protested at the whole idea, calling it a “deception of the highest order”, but was summarily overruled by all present, much to Lucya’s delight.

“So returning to the meal arrangements, you will divide the passengers between the restaurants, of course?” Claude said. “We should have a list in each restaurant and cross their names off when they have eaten so they do not take more than their fair share.”

“Yes, yes you’re right. Another good reason to get the census and manifest done quickly,” Jake agreed. “Silvia, can you join me on the bridge for breakfast? I’ll need your team to go door to door.”

“Of course, I’ll be there for six.”

“Great, so I think we have covered everything then. I will make those calls, then take first watch on the bridge. It’s now twenty-two thirty. Lucya, you can replace me at oh-two thirty. In the meantime, get some sleep. All of you try and get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a very long day.”

The group slowly disbanded. Martin and Claude both ignored Jake’s call for sleep and went back to work. Lucya, Silvia, and Grau headed for their cabins and some much needed rest. Melvin went to find his cronies to nominate someone to take his place on the bridge for the night shift.

Max remained on the bridge, something on his mind. Jake took to the PA to announce that food service would resume with breakfast, and that a census would take place the next day.

“Max, are you not going to catch forty winks?”

“I’m concerned about the security situation on this ship. I didn’t want to talk openly in front of the others, particularly Sherwood.”
“What’s on your mind?”

“Given all that has happened today, people have been remarkably calm. Probably a mixture of shock and grief. But that’s not going to last. Sherwood is just the tip of the iceberg, a taster of what is to come. If we hit land tomorrow and…and everything is gone, then reality is going to set in. There could be mass panic. Probably more suicides, although that’s no bad thing.”

“I’m sorry?” Jake said. “How can suicide not be a bad thing?”

“From a security point of view, it means fewer people to keep in line. Every jumper is one less person to keep an eye on.”

Jake sighed. “I’m really glad I don’t live in your head, Max. So what are you saying? That we’re going to be dealing with kidnappings and mutinies on a regular basis?”