We Float Upon a Painted Sea (34 page)

During the evening and the following day, the Professor continued with his charade, all the while waiting to be exposed as a stowaway. To his surprise the deception continued until later he was asked to report to the Purser’s office at midday. The Professor’s stomach knotted and he was breathing hard. In a state of desperation he came across a pod which held inside one of the ship’s life rafts. He dithered for a while, checking to see if he was being observed. There was no one else on the deck. He broke the seal, opened the pod and crept inside. He thanked the gods for his small stature which otherwise would have made the task impossible. Exhausted from his panic, he snuggled inside the plastic folds of the raft, closed his eyes and went to sleep cradling his leather satchel.

Chapter 24: Mother Earth

When Andrew and Bull arrived on the RV Mother Earth, they were taken to one of the lower decks by a young woman who introduced herself as Nico. They were shown inside a store cupboard and told that this would be their berth until they were set down at the nearest port. They were given bathrobes and shown to the ship’s shower room. Andrew asked for a razor, but Bull decided that he would keep his beard. “It makes me look more intellectual, he said looking in the mirror,” he stated pensively.
Once they had washed a week of dried sweat, grime and salt water from their bodies, they were examined by the ship’s doctor and returned to their accommodation.

To their amazement, they found the room cleared of junk and illuminated by a soft orange light from an electric lantern. The floor was adorned with a Persian rug and a spiral joss stick was burning on a wooden table, filling the room with a sweet aroma of camphor wood. There were two hammocks erected in the corner, a psychedelic stylised poster of Geronimo pinned to the ceiling, a shell braided mirror on the wall and two beanbags provided for sitting on. Bull stood motionless. In many ways the scene reminded him of the narrowboat back in Glasgow when Saffron had lived with him. His eyes were transfixed by a pile of sandwiches lying on the table. Nico stood by the porthole at the opposite side of the room. She was smiling and in a soft North American accent she said,

“We hope you enjoy your stay. We want to make you as comfortable as possible, so if there’s anything else you need?”

“Are those for me?” said Bull pointing to the sandwiches.

“Yes they are, but I could get you more?”

“I must apologise for my friend,” interrupted Andrew, “it’s been a long time without real food, unless you count, re-hydrated vegetable protein, raw fish and porridge gruel.” Nico was still smiling, she said,

“Hey, I’ll split and let you be in peace, and once you have chilled for a while, the Captain would like to rap with you. There has been much happening on the Earth and we were hoping that you may have some news of our crewmates onboard the Flower Child, but that conversation is for later. You should rest now. I have brought you a change of threads. I hope you don’t find them too gaudy. I will take your old clothes to be detoxed.” Nico placed a pile of fresh clothes on the table and left through the beaded curtains. Bull descended upon the sandwiches like a raptor upon its prey. Andrew grunted,

“I didn’t really catch most of that did you?” Bull garbled,

“She said the Captain wants to talk to us about their missing ship and she’s brought us some fresh clothes.” He pointed to the garments piled on the wooden table with a fresh sandwich, “she’s taken our old clothes to be incinerated in the ship’s boiler.” On seeing Andrew’s alarmed reaction, Bull laughed. Choking on a sandwich he said,

“I’m only joking. They’re going to wash them and bring them back.”

Later, Bull lay on his hammock enjoying the sensation of being warm, dry and comfortable. He looked at the skin on his feet and noticed that his blisters had gone. He sad, “How’s your skin? All my sores have miraculously cleared up.” Andrew ignored Bull’s question. He was staring out of a porthole and towards the sea. Bull said,

“There’s no use blaming ourselves. We done all we could for Malcolm under difficult circumstances. We need to let it go.” Andrew smiled thinly. He was about to reply to Bull’s words when Nico returned with a pot of hot coffee and more sandwiches. Bull hauled himself from his hammock. Nico said, “This batch is peanut butter and jelly. You looked like you need fattening up.” Bull thanked her before she left. He started feasting on the food.

Andrew removed his bathrobe and moved towards the table to inspect his new attire. He started to dress. Bull stared at his reflection in the shell braided mirror. He was admiring his beard when, in the background, he noticed there was no image in the glass where Andrew should have been. With a sharp intake of breath Bull turned his head and gawped. On noticing the look on Bull’s face, Andrew said, “What’s up with you I wonder? Haven’t you seen another man’s naked body before?” Bull remained silent, watching Andrew and sniffing the air as he moved around the room. When he turned back to the mirror, there was still no reflection of Andrew, but Bull was distracted by a hand coming through the beaded curtain door.

The Captain entered the room. He was a large, muscular man with a grey beard and wore a green baseball cap with a GM logo emblazoned on it. After a brief smile, he said,

“Welcome aboard. I'm Captain Waxy Gravy. I would have come to see you sooner, but there has been a development and we are holding a ship meeting.” The Captain’s looked into Bull’s face, noticing a disturbed expression. Andrew’s voice cut through the awkward silence. He said,

“Very well Captain, anything we can do to help.” The Captain continued to look at Bull for a response. Finally, Bull said,

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what? ”

“A voice.” The Captain put a hand on Bull’s shoulder and said,

“Look son, you've been through a lot, I get that, but now, I really need your presence on the Bridge.”

They followed the Captain out of their quarters to the Bridge where the crew had assembled. A hush had descended upon the room. Captain Waxy Gravy walked to his chair and stood with his hand planted firmly on the head rest. He cleared his throat and then said,

“The Flower Child was on its way to St Kilda to disrupt a planned military operation to detonate a subaqueous nuclear device. It will not have escaped your attention, despite the news blackout, that our attempts to expose the MoDs hideous activities has been successful. The internet was awash with the story before a firewall was implemented last night.” A small cheer from the crew was cut short by the Captain holding up his hand.

“Settle down,” he said. “The Government have used the current crisis with Russia as an excuse for this and many more draconian measures. Sadly, many of you will not recognise your homelands when you eventually return there. The threat of war tends to bring a temporary curtain down on human rights. We know the detonation went ahead as planned and since then we have lost contact with the Flower Child. Since Mac joined us, we now know that the ship was caught by the catastrophic wave generated by the explosion. We believe that any survivors have been detained by the Feds. Mac has also told us that before they picked up the lifeboat, they spotted a military vessel heading towards Rockall. We believe an oil exploration rig was commandeered as their command and control centre, but we can't presume they are planning to use it again for their next subterranean detonation.”

A
collective gasp emanated from the astonished crew and then unrest erupted. The pupils of Bull’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped when the Captain’s news settled in his mind. The Captain continued,

“All satellite navigation systems are now under MoDs control, including GPS and network cells are restricted, so we are back to the dog days of carrier pigeons and Morse code. Word over the VHF radio, before it was jammed, was that the Feds are after us, but our priority is to find the Flower Child and her crew regardless of what state we find them in.” One of the crew raised his hand to ask a question. The Captain said, “Doobie, what’s on your mind, or can it wait until after the update.” A couple of crew members sniggered and as Doobie lowered his hand he said, “Its cool man, it can wait.”

The Captain looked out to sea as if to draw inspiration. He sighed,

“Today, the interference source was sabotaged or
ecotaged
by our new friends in the Earth Liberation Front. The ELF destroyed the MoDs listening station at Taransay.” The sound of groaning noises rippled around the Bridge. The Captain continued, “I know many of you are very much against their methods and believe them to be infiltrated by agent provocateurs, but desperate times have called for desperate measures and we are fully cooperating with them at this moment in time.” The Captain held out his hands to calm them. Bull remained silent. He surveyed the room to locate Andrew, but he was gone. “I’m not fully aware of all the details,” continued the Captain, “but the attack by the ELF resulted in no casualties. It’s a small victory, but with the Prophylaxis Trident satellites down and the MoDs pulse jamming temporarily halted, our adversaries are now operating practically blind. Our radar is up and running again, hence how Mac was subsequently able to pick up one of the Flower Child’s two lifeboats. Sadly, as you know no members of the original crew were onboard, but we did see some signs
of
life.” The Captain pointed towards Bull. Bull raised his hand and waved sheepishly. The Captain nodded at Bull.

The Captain and his First Mate discussed plotting a course to St Kilda on a digital chart while the crew discussed the Captain’s update. “Alright, settle down,” said the Captain, “I know what you’re all feeling. I’m going through the same emotions, but we need cool heads at a time like this. I for one still believe that our comrades are alive and I’m prepared to go and save them and expose this atrocity. I can’t force any of you to come along with me. You need to make that decision for yourselves. If you decide this is not what you signed up for I’m sorry, but I can’t drop you off on the mainland as the Feds will be waiting there for us. I can set you down on one of the other islands and we will collect you when all of this is over. So if there’s anyone who doesn’t want to go any further raise your hands now.” There was a moment of quiet then Doobie raised his hand. The Captain said, “Ok Doobie, get your stuff packed…” Doobie replied,

“No, I’m with you Waxy, I just wanted to ask a question.”

“Questions at the end Doobie.” Doobie lowered his hand and turned his head to the source of giggling amongst the crew. He scowled.  The Captain continued, St Kilda or Hirta to be more precise has a military comms base with a heli-pad and a number of unidentified cabins housing fuck knows what, but the last ELF intel would have us believe that the military have scaled down operations there. However, there is a forty mile exclusion zone around the island so we’re still expecting a hot reception.” The Captain put two hands in the air to enforce calm.

“Yes, I know Theia,” said the Captain, “Hirta, has been repopulated since the fracking industry arrived. It has a port and a village so its unlikely the MoDs will do anything too hasty with so many witnesses. I propose that we plot a course for St Kilda Island and despite what they will throw at us, we’ll help our friends, record the evidence and expose this sordid operation to the world.”

Doobie put his hand up again but this time he couldn’t remain silent. The Captain drew him a sombre look. “Ok, question time. Doobie, what’s on your mind?” Doobie said,

“I’d just like to expand on what the Captain said about the prospect of a war? The Russians are pissed about something and their defences are on high alert. There’s talk of a potential conflict on the BBC World Service.” Doobie held up an old fashioned transistor radio. Someone shouted out,

“The BBC is just a mouthpiece for the Government. I wouldn’t trust them as far as I could shit them!” A clique at the back of the crowd giggled again. One said, “You’re a total geek, Doobie.”

“Maybe, but you’re a bunch of potheads,” replied Doobie, “there are still people broadcasting on medium and long wave and just as well since the satellites and the internet link ups have all gone cold. I knew this would happen. All I’m saying is, with the Russian’s testing the MoDs defences; we can expect no quarter from them.”  The First Mate stepped forward and said,

“Doobie, can I ask if there was any news from the BBC about the wave, MoDs involvement or casualties?”

“There was a report about a tsunami in the North Atlantic but they said it was from seismic activity caused by fracking and that the MoDs were helping with the clear up operation. They also mentioned a cruise ship sinking and that there were a few casualties, but most of the passengers had been rescued.”

“Thanks for that Doobie,” said the Captain, “I won’t shit you, there was a Russian surveillance ship hit by the wave, so this is going to be as dangerous as it gets. There’s a lot of folk pissed with the GM, particularly after the ELF attack at Taransay at a time when war is looking imminent. But we’re also pissed with them. They have decimated the environment, they have endangered life and they are bringing the world into an age of chaos and armed conflict.  So what do you say, will we go and get our comrades and bring them home? Will we go to St Kilda?” The crew offered a nervous cheer.