Noah's Ark: Encounters (6 page)

• • •

The cold steel handrail dug into Jake’s belly and pressed against his lower ribs. He couldn’t feel it, although he would probably have bruises in the morning. He was at the very prow of the ship, leaning forwards as if every centimetre he could extend himself would somehow help him to spot the lost man in the sea. Binoculars gripped firmly in both hands, he scanned left, then right, left, then right. The wind had increased in strength the further west they had travelled, and it had begun to whip up the surface of the channel into little white horses. Every now and then he would spot one that just for a split second could be a person. Then the wave would roll over and disperse, popping the tiny bubble of hope that had ballooned inside him.

“Anything?” Coote called from his right. The submarine captain, less optimistic and perhaps less agile than his cruise ship counterpart, stood back a little way from the railing. He surveyed his patch calmly and, Jake knew, with little real hope of success.

“Nothing,” Jake replied solemnly. “Anders?” He glanced left at the fisherman.

“Nej.”

More people — sailors, the entire security team, a few off-duty farm workers, and some of the submariners — fanned out along the perimeter of the ship, one person every five metres. The
Ambush
, sailing parallel to them on the port side, was scanning the area with its full array of sensors. If anyone was in the water, somebody would see them.

And yet, they had seen nothing.

Nobody said it, but Jake knew they were approaching the limit of their search area. He thought that they must already have covered more than five nautical miles. The current was against them, so if it had carried Stieg away from where he had presumably fallen from the raft, they would already have passed him by now. Even so, they would keep going, backtracking their route for another mile or two. It was always possible that, disoriented, he was swimming away from them.

“Captain Noah!”

Jake pulled his binoculars away and stepped over to Coote. “You see something? What is it?”

“Not sure. What do you think? Dead ahead. I’d say three hundred metres away.”

Jake followed the older man’s finger and focussed, sweeping left and right a few degrees at a time. He spotted it almost straight away.

“What do you think, old boy? Your eyes are younger than mine.”

“It’s an oar. I’m sure it’s an oar.”

“Aha! Yes, now you say it I can see you are right. Gosh, I have become so dependent on our fancy gadgets and gizmos, old-fashioned eyeballing is not my forte.”

“This is good, right?” Jake’s voice rose in pitch. “It means we’re in the right place.”

“Can’t argue with that, old chap.”

“Listen up!” Jake turned and addressed everyone who was within earshot. “We have an oar in sight, three hundred metres to the starboard side. We’re on the right track. Keep your eyes peeled. We’re going to find him.” He unclipped a radio from his belt and called to the bridge, instructing Chuck to turn ten degrees starboard.

As they ploughed on though, the burst of optimism began to fade. Not only was there no sign of Stieg, there wasn’t even another oar.

Jake felt a tap at his shoulder. He didn’t turn; he didn’t want to peel his eyes away from the expanse of sea before him.

“Jake, something’s come up. I think you need to come and see.”

He knew the voice. It was his friend, Ewan Sledge, submariner from HMS
Ambush.

“You see something?”

“Yes. But not Stieg. Captain Coote, you’ll need to come too, sir.”

“I can’t leave here,” Jake protested. “The lookout—”

“It’s okay, Eric will take over.”

Eric O’Brien, Ewan’s colleague and close friend, took up position alongside him.

“I’ll keep a good watch, Jake,” he reassured him. “You really should go with Ewan.”

Jake finally, and reluctantly, stepped away from the railing. Coote was already on his way. He followed, catching him up at a bank of lifts, with Ewan tagging alongside.

“Not going to tell me more about what this is about, Ewan old boy?” Coote asked.

“Probably best to, er…” Ewan dropped his voice and paused as a family walked past, chatting and laughing. “Best to wait until we’re on the sub.”

The three of them continued in silence. They descended to deck two, and then took the walkway that was rigged up between the
Arcadia
and the
Ambush
while the submarine
was out of the water. Jake hated the walkway. It was designed to let passengers on and off the ship when docked in port. It was most definitely not made for passage between two moving vessels. The engineering team had done a good job though, and the system was sturdy and reliable. It had been improved since its original incarnation, with more substantial sides to keep the buffeting wind at bay. Even so, it had a tendency to wallow in the middle, and Jake was never quite convinced that it wouldn’t buckle and send him into the ocean at any moment. He wiped his brow the moment he reached the safety of the
Ambush
’s conning tower.

Ewan led them through the warren of cramped passages, into the communications control room, the heart of the submarine.

“Ralf, Jason.” Jake nodded to the two men he knew well. The other officers he had barely met, and quite out of nowhere he felt a sudden flush of guilt at that fact. He made a mental note to spend more time on the
Ambush
, getting to know all of its crew better. There were only a hundred of them, and the whole community was dependent on the work they did. As chairman of the committee, it seemed the right thing to do.

Dispensing with greetings, Ralf reported what was so important as to drag them away from the search for Stieg.

“We’ve picked something up on the radar.”

“Stieg?” Jake asked, his pulse quickening.

“No. Bigger. Much bigger. We’ve detected a boat.”

Six

T
HE
COMMITTEE
WAS
hastily assembled once again, this time on the bridge of the
Spirit of Arcadia
. Jake could see the search for the missing fisherman continuing three decks below. The lookouts positioned from the bow outwards scanned the surrounding sea. He knew time was running out fast.

Someone called his name.

“Yes?”

“Jake, we’re ready to begin.”

“Right. Yes, of course. Thank you all for coming. I think it’s best I hand straight over to Jason.” He nodded at the submariner, who got to his feet and addressed those seated around the map table.

“We believe we have picked up another boat on the sonar.”

A collective gasp went up around the bridge. Jason paused, allowing the implications to set in, before continuing.

“The boat in question I estimate to be between fifty and seventy metres in length. It’s hard to tell from this distance. What is clear is that while it’s no cruise ship, neither is it a life raft or lifeboat. It’s something far more substantial.”

Amanda raised her hand and spoke. “Can you tell if there’s anyone on board?”

A murmur went around the table. It was the question every one of them was thinking.

“The boat is too far away for our infrared sensors to give us anything useful. However, given her trajectory and speed, I would say there is little doubt that she is sailing under power. She is not drifting.”

“Do we know where she has come from? How could she have survived?” Lister asked.

“I first spotted her when she entered the Celtic Sea—”

“She came from the east?” Lucya cut in.

“Yes. Perhaps from the direction of Brest.”

“Or the Crozon Peninsula. That’s a coincidence.”

“We don’t believe much in coincidence in the Royal Navy, Miss Levin,” Coote grunted.

“It is indeed possible that the boat came from Crozon,” Jason agreed. “Maybe it’s a sign that the base there has survived. Given her current speed and direction, and our own, I estimate we will lose sonar contact within the next twenty to thirty minutes when she disappears behind Ile de Molène.”

“So why are we still sailing in the wrong direction?” Ella asked. Her shock of pink hair bobbed about her face as she looked around the table, eyes wide and questioning. “We need to turn round, get to the base.”

“Of course we do,” Martin agreed. “If it survived, who knows what we might find?”

Suddenly everyone was talking at once, and nobody was listening. Jake felt his heart sink. He stood and banged on the table. “Alright, let’s bring this to order. Amanda, you wanted to say something?”

“Thank you, Jake. If the base has survived, it will be there tomorrow. Surely we need to go and find this boat, before we lose them?”

“Exactly!” Lucya said, and several others voiced their agreement too.

Jake held up a hand, silencing them all again. “There is another consideration here,” he said, his voice dipping. “Stieg? We haven’t found him yet.”

“Captain Noah,” Coote said. “I think you know as well as I that the fisherman is not going to be found. I’m sorry, old boy, but we’ve gone way beyond the original search area already. We cannot jeopardise the possibility of finding more survivors for the tiny chance that we may find Stieg alive.”

“He is right, Jake,” Grau said softly. “For the record, I agree our priority must be the other survivors.”

“We don’t know there are any survivors,” Ella protested. “And even if there are, they seem to be doing okay by themselves. Why should we interfere?”

“We cannot make those kinds of assumptions,” said Grau. “It has been almost two months since the asteroid. For all we know, there are people aboard at the limit of their food and fuel reserves. We have a moral obligation to offer our assistance.”

“Grau’s right,” Amanda agreed. “And really, what is there to lose? If we find people who decline our assistance, we’ve only made a minor detour. Jason, how long will it add to our sailing time to Crozon if we try and meet up with this boat?”

“No more than twenty-four hours.”

“We have unlimited power, and we are blessed with good food reserves. Twenty-four hours extra on our journey has to be a worthwhile price to pay to potentially save more lives. You must see that?”

Silvia cleared her throat. She had, until then, remained silent. “If I may?” Seven heads turned to look at her. “Finding survivors would be a wonderful thing. Not only would we be saving lives, but think of the boost in morale it would offer to every man, woman, and child in this community. Since the asteroid, all we have seen is death and destruction. Longyearbyen, Faslane, Plymouth, Portsmouth. Everywhere we go it’s the same. Every port of call is like a knife through the heart, a reminder that the world is gone. The more we see, the more convinced we become that we’re alone, the only survivors. But think! If there are others, and so close by, then that means there could be more! There could be pockets of humanity dotted around the world. We don’t just owe it to whoever might be on that boat to go and find them, we owe it to ourselves.”

“The longer we discuss this, the greater the risk of losing sight of our new friends on the sonar. I think it’s time to move this to the vote, don’t you, old boy?”

Jake sank back into his chair. He hated to admit it, but the others were right. Stieg was gone. The possibility of finding others didn’t soften that blow. “Okay. All those in favour of proceeding to the Ile Longue base at Crozon?”

Martin and Ella raised their hands.

“And those in favour of intercepting this boat?”

Coote, Amanda, Grau and Silvia raised their hands. Jake reluctantly raised his own hand too.

“Splendid,” Coote said, beaming. “Jason and I shall return to the
Ambush
and dive forthwith.”

Jake walked to the helm, his feet dragging. “Chuck, turn us around.”

• • •

After the search was called off, much to Max Mooting’s delight, Grace was hoping to slip away unnoticed. She had had time to think over her conspiracy theory regarding the Morans and their claimed rations. The more she churned it over, the more she was sure that there was foul play involved. Telling Max her ideas was pointless; he would tell her to get a grip, then send her to one of the passenger decks on patrol. She had other ideas.

Unfortunately so did Max. After a brief telephone call with the bridge, he recalled her and the rest of the security team to the theatre. There was to be an important town hall meeting, to which everyone on board was invited. The theatre couldn’t hold everyone, so a strong security presence would be required to prevent trouble from brewing among those left outside.

Even before Grace reached the theatre, the rumours had begun. Whispers in corridors, hushed and excited conversations in doorways. Always the same subject:

“Have you heard? They’ve found more people alive!”

“There’s another ship, just like this one.”

“I heard it’s a warship, and we’re running away from them.”

“Someone I know who’s friends with someone on the bridge said everyone on that ship is dead. Killed by the same virus we all had.”

“I heard it was a ghost ship.”

The theatre wasn’t at capacity. The short notice meant many people couldn’t get there in time. Plenty more didn’t want to attend. Such public gatherings had a habit of being organised to dispense bad news.

The meeting itself started well. Amanda Jackson and Ella Rose from the committee explained what they knew: that another boat had been spotted, that it showed indications of being inhabited, and that they were now on course to intercept it.

Initial reactions had been positive. As Silvia had predicted, a wave of optimism swept quite perceptibly through the cavernous auditorium. The space was filled with chatter at the prospect of finding new people, and what that meant in the wider scheme of things.

The hosts of the meeting let the chat continue for a while, then as it calmed down, they opened the floor to questions. Transparency was one of the guiding principles of the committee, and everyone in the community had the right to quiz its members on any topic relating to their wellbeing.

Amanda fielded the questions with ease.

“How far is this boat?”

“A bit more than two hundred nautical miles. We’ll rendezvous with it in roughly fifteen hours.”