Paws and Planets (17 page)

Tara thought
for a moment before she answered. “Floods?” she ventured and was
pleased to see Papa nod.

“Yes, floods.
Now this meant that a lot of land that people lived on became wet
and boggy, also they couldn’t grow food on it because it was always
flooding. The flooded land also became polluted and large areas
were abandoned, especially the Low Countries in Europe and parts of
New England in America. The population was increasing and food
became scarce. At the same time, the number of volcano eruptions
and earthquakes increased.”

“I know that
part, we studied it in history,” Tara interrupted.

“Yes,” her
father replied, “many clever scientists believed that this increase
was caused by the bigger tidal stresses on the Earth’s plates. This
meant that there was even less land for people to live on. Mummy
and I realised that the problem was only going to get worse. Other
people realised it as well and some had already left to colonise
suitable planets.”

“So you and
Mummy decided to join them?” ventured Tara.

Papa looked at
her. “Yes, we decided to leave and that is why we are on our way to
a new planet where there is plenty of land. Do you understand
now?”

Next day, Tara
failed the test, but not by very much.

* * * * *

EPISODE 7 -
DEATH IN SPACE (PART 1)

At the end of
Valour and Victory, the final book in the Planet Wolf Series, the
fate of the WCCS Melbourne, one of the original convoy ships which
had set out from Earth for Riga was mentioned. This is their story
…

(AL 0)

The WCCS
Melbourne
survived the cosmic storm that destroyed the WCCS
Oklahoma
and sent the WCCS
Argyll
and the WCPS
Electra
on their epic journey across the galaxy to the
planet that would become known as Rybak.

Like her sister
ships, she sustained damage although as with the WCPS
Electra
and unlike the WCCS
Argyll
her livestock,
food and water appendage remained intact. Only one of her colony
sections sustained irreparable damage with the consequent loss of
life.

However, the
blast wave of force and debris sent her spinning into an area of
the galaxy containing a plenitude of suns and orbiting planets.

We join them as
the WCCS
Melbourne
comes to a floating standstill.

* * * * *

Captain Wanda
Lambert regained consciousness to find herself lying spread-eagled
on the floor of her ready cabin which was situated aft of the
bridge. Her first thought was of surprise, the second of
disorientation. Surprise that she was alive after what had
happened; she had a vague recollection of hitting the upper deck
when the ship had flipped over. Disorientation because the tiny
cabin (really not much more than a sleep-space) looked different
than she remembered it, the possessions she kept here were
bestrewing the deck and the bed-mattress was tipped on one end and
resting against the starboard bulkhead.

I am
alive
, was her first thought, the second was for her ship and
for the crews and passengers.
Better see if I can get up.
She moved each limb in turn.

“That’s
encouraging,” she said aloud as her arms and legs responded. She
sat up. Her head felt woozy and her exploratory fingers encountered
a bump the size of an egg on her forehead. That accounted for her
bemused state she decided with some effort.
Touch of concussion
probably. Wonder if I can stand?

She managed it;
eventually, using the bunk-frame for leverage and balancing herself
against the bulkhead.

She staggered
over to the console on the unit to the left of where the bunk
should have been. The screen was blank but the comms buttons were
each and every one flashing so that she knew, even in her present
state, that at least some members of her crew were alive and trying
to contact her.

She depressed
the first one that her trembling fingers reached.

“Captain
speaking,” her voice was slurred and the words emerging were rather
more than a mumble. She tried again. “Captain speaking.” There,
that was better.

The voice at
the other end was faint. There were problems with the comms links
and the main computers were rerouting the contact via a roundabout
route. Some of the connectors were fried, Wanda correctly assumed,
they had most certainly been damaged if the row of red warning
lights at the top of the console was anything to go by.

“Captain?” It
was a male voice. Wanda didn’t recognise it.

“Who is this?”
She enunciated the words with great care.

“Sub-Leftenant
Switherburn, Engineering,” the voice identified himself.

Wanda
recognised it now. Denis Switherburn was one of the more junior
engineers, a bright-faced young man in his early twenties and more
importantly, a steady officer with a calm disposition and noted for
his quiet common sense.

“Damage
report?”

Denis
Switherburn’s crackling voice replied with commendable
promptitude.

“Minimal here
in Engineering Captain. Power-core is intact and we’re working on
trying to restore operational manageability.”

“Casualties?”

“Here? Minor
bumps and bruises but two fatalities, Artificers Watt and
Kendrick.”

“Commander
Wright?”

Commander
Wright was the Chief Engineer, an elderly man who was due to retire
on the colony world of Riga at the end of this commission.

“Knocked
unconscious but he’s beginning to come round.”

“Good. Keep me
informed of his progress.”

“Aye aye
Captain.”

“Do you have
contact with the Bridge?” Although she had pressed that button, it
had not lit up, signifying that the connection was as dead as a
dodo.

“Not yet Ma’am
but we’re working on it. We do know however that the bridge hull
wasn’t breached.”

He became
silent then and a sinking feeling started in the pit of Wanda’s
stomach.

“Where are the
breaches?”

“Colony
sections one, two and four Ma’am, down port side. Three, five and
seven are intact, we have restored contact with them and six and
eight we don’t know. Some of the sensors are malfunctioning.”

Wanda took a
deep breath. That her ship had been badly damaged was certain.

“Life
Support?”

All she seemed
to be doing was asking questions.

“Apart from
here and the sections we are in contact with I don’t know yet.
We’re working on it.”

“Right, keep
this line open,” she ordered, glancing up at the support status box
above her head. “Life support here is A-okay and this ready cabin
shares oxygen with the bridge so chances are that they are a-okay
too. Door lock is showing A-status but is emergency locked. Is
there any way you can get the blasted thing open from your end
using the over-ride?”

“I’ll get
Ensign Black on to the problem Ma’am.” There was a pause. “He says
it shouldn’t take long. He’s rerouting the data paths.”

All Wanda could
do now was wait. She sat, listening into the murmuring voices at
the other end of the comms link. She was hearing enough to begin to
build a picture of the
Melbourne
’s status.

Colony section
one was a write-off. Not one occupant, unless he or she had managed
to reach one of the emergency cabinets could have survived due to
the total decompression. Rescue parties would have to don EVA suits
to enter and their progress would be desperately slow.

Luckily ship
design was no longer in its infancy and even major hull breaches
could no longer destroy a ship’s capability to survive. Each
section and that included both engineering and the food and
livestock pod could sustain themselves for a considerable time. The
airlock systems had done the job they had been designed to do.

As the ship
hours passed a fuller picture began to emerge, especially once the
comms link was restored between Captain and Bridge.

Amazingly the
on-duty bridge crew had emerged from the disaster unscathed.
Wanda’s 2IC, one Denis MacBrayne, a brawny Scotsman with bright
ginger hair, had, in his usual capable fashion and with his Captain
incommunicado, taken control of the situation, dealing with one
emergency after another, not that Wanda would have expected
anything less.

Except for the
destroyed colony section, the WCCS
Melbourne
had emerged
from the disaster better than Wanda could possibly have
expected.

By the time her
cabin door whooshed open, he could even report that the rescue
crews were finding survivors there; those fortunate enough and
quick enough and with enough presence of mind, when the klaxons
rang out to reach one of the emergency cabinets. A percentage of
those being found alive were young children, some very young, whose
parents had got them inside the cabinets first, not leaving
themselves enough time to save themselves.

The schooling
facility too had survived and had in fact, sustained absolutely no
damage whatever. The facility had extra safety skins and locks in
place for just such an eventuality. Almost the full complement of
the
Melbourne
’s children, aged between seven and sixteen
were waiting impatiently to be let out but Commander MacBrayne had
left them there for the moment until it was found out who had
families to return to and who had not.

The
psychiatrists on board would have a busy time ahead of them
comforting the bereaved.

By ship-night,
the majority of the exhausted survivors were asleep and Wanda could
at last take a deep breath and bend her mind as to what they should
do next.

There had been
no sign of any of the other ships in the convoy, which was really
not surprising when it was ascertained just exactly where the WCCS
Melbourne
was.

The Navigation
Leftenant checked and re-checked his results at least four times
before he made his report.

“How far?”
asked Wanda in a voice devoid of emotion as she waited for the
confirmation of her own calculations.

“It would have
taken us forty-seven years to have travelled this far Ma’am,” he
reiterated. “I wouldn’t have believed it possible to have come all
this way in a matter of seconds and still be in one piece if you’d
asked me yesterday.”

Wanda looked
over to her 2IC. “So what do you suggest we do now Denis? The way I
look at it we have two choices. We can either turn round and try to
make it to Riga on our own. It would take …” She made some mental
calculations.

“Forty-one
years and ten months,” the Nav Leftenant supplied in a helpful
voice.

“Thank you,”
Wanda replied absently, “or we can cut our losses and try to find
another planet on our own, here, in this part of the Galaxy.”

“The
Melbourne
wasn’t designed for a long haul of an extra
forty-one or so years,” vouchsafed Denis MacBrayne. “The power-core
would be fine, it’s a new unit fitted last refit but she’s been
severely, although not fatally damaged structurally, the inner
airlocks holding at section one aren’t designed to keep up support
integrity on a long term basis. There’s the not knowing how long
they’ll stand up to the strain.”

Wanda accepted
this as fact.

“Food and
water,” continued Denis MacBrayne, “that’s another minus. We were
twelve years out on a twenty year passage. Livestock and growing
pod is intact but I say we do, as you suggest, cut our losses and
start looking for a planet we can reach in safety.”

Wanda nodded.
“I agree, but with one proviso; we head back the way we have come,
more slowly this time of course,” she grinned, “making repairs as
we go and if we find a suitable planet we stop.”

“There are
indications that there might be some that might fit,” added the Nav
Leftenant. “Probes have reached this far out and they did flag up
possibilities.”

“Right,”
announced Wanda, “o-seven-hundred hours tomorrow, meeting of all
departmental heads. I’ll inform them about my decision then.”

“Some have been
asking already,” warned Denis MacBrayne.

“Let them
wait,” said Wanda, “we’re all tired and should be asleep.
Leftenant, get some information about possible routes then get some
rest.”

The Nav
Leftenant saluted and left them.

“Agreed,” said
Denis MacBrayne, also preparing to depart. “I’m going to get some
shut-eye and you Captain must too.”

“Once I’ve
visited the sick-bays,” she told him. “My job, not yours. The price
of command.”

The occupants
of the
Melbourne
spent an uneasy night. Wanda herself
managed a few hours sleep and woke refreshed to a certain extent
but Denis MacBrayne only managed a sixth of that being called to
the bridge early on in his slumbers. The airlocks and bulkheads
around section one continued to hold and life support in all other
sections was at ninety-seven per cent normal but the
ships-engineers were worried.

Whilst his
Captain was sleeping Denis MacBrayne made another decision. As a
precaution the sections around number one had been evacuated but
when informed of this later that day, Wanda was confident that over
the next days their occupiers would be able to return.

EVA crews were
beginning repairs to the outer hull. The ship remained stationery,
not moving forward although the grav-turnings continued.

* * * * *

Wanda woke
up.

The ship felt
different with her main engines silent. The rhythmic throbbing
which Wanda had listened to and learnt to ignore over the past
twelve years was absent. The hiatus of the ship’s lifeblood, she
had heard Denis MacBrayne describe it as.