“Executing turn, twenty-five degrees west,” Jake called out automatically. His right hand made the necessary adjustment to the dial. He tore his eyes away from the window and fixed his attention on the compass. It began to swing, just as expected. Never had such a mundane action filled him with such anticipation. The others on the bridge felt it too, he knew that. He stole a glance around, taking in their expressions. To his right, Chief Radio Officer Lucya Levin was talking into her headset, her deep brown eyes fixed on the radar display built into the grey console at which she was sat, totally focussed on the task in hand. Next to Jake, Trainee Pilot Chuck Masters was standing to attention. He looked nervous but excited. The young blond sailor had proved his worth weeks before, rescuing him from the toxic ash that covered the land outside, navigating him back to the relative safety of the ship in a little inflatable life raft. Chuck’s reward was promotion to the bridge. He was to learn the job of helmsman, or ‘driver’ as the rest of the crew mockingly referred to the position. Jake was glad to have Chuck on the team. He was keen to learn, and surprisingly talented. Even so, his presence was a constant reminder of the loss of Pedro, the quiet, unassuming pilot who had been tragically killed right there on the bridge. Pedro had been one of two pilots; the other had never been found and was assumed dead, one of hundreds lost to the aftermath of the asteroid that had ended the world.

Standing by the leftmost window was Navigation Officer Dave Whitehall. He was acting as lookout for this delicate operation. There was no land for miles around, and it was highly unlikely there were any other obstacles they might run into. Apart from one. Dave was watching it like a hawk, constantly gauging the distance between it and the side of the ship.

“They’re turning, hands-off, looking good,” Lucya called out.

“Understood. Officer Whitehall, how are we doing?”

“Maintaining an even distance, sir.”

The compass moved more slowly as the ship completed the turn. Jake looked at his trainee. “Officer Masters, you have the helm. Maintain the new heading and speed.”

“Aye, sir.”

Jake moved away, allowing the young man to take up his position. It felt odd calling him officer. It felt odd using titles for any of the crew, especially after all they had been through. But this was work, ship’s operations, and it seemed right and proper to stick to protocol, at least on the bridge.

He joined Dave at the side window and looked out at the tightly bunched thick black cables. They sprouted from the midsection of the ship and swayed gently in the wind. Jake’s eyes followed them out over the water and down to the slender black fin to which they were attached.

The source of their power, their saviour.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” he said quietly.

“I’m sorry, sir?” Dave replied.

“To think, all that power from that little submarine. Enough electricity to push us both along, and keep all our systems running too. It looks like she’s matching us perfectly.”

“That she is, sir. There was a tiny lag when we started the turn, but apart from that she’s followed us round like she was stuck on with glue.”

“Excellent. Martin will be relieved. And Ralf, too. He’ll get to say ‘I told you so’ to all those who thought that linking our navigation systems would never work. We all should be delighted; this is a huge step forward. We can finally get out of these freezing waters and go somewhere warm. Somewhere we have a fighting chance.”

Jake looked back at HMS Ambush, the sleek black form of the Royal Navy nuclear submarine cutting its way through the water beside them. Its crew had saved his life, and now it was going to help save mankind.

• • •

“Daddy, why did the ship stop again?”

“They were just testing the new engines, angel. We’ll be moving again soon, I promise.”

The seven-year-old looked at her father, her head tilted to one side, a face that expressed a level of scepticism usually reserved for someone many times her age.

“Are you sure? You said that before, and we didn’t go anywhere for ages and ages!”

“Yes, but that was before, wasn’t it? Before we had the submarine to help us. Tomorrow we’re going to go to Scotland. Won’t that be exciting?”

“I don’t want to go to Scotland, I want to go home and see Granny!”

Scott Collins swallowed hard. He hated lying to his daughter, but he hadn’t yet found the words to explain that Granny was dead. That everyone was dead. She knew, of course, that something bad had happened, but not the details. He got to his knees, putting himself at Erica’s height, and took her little hands in his own.

“We can’t go and see Granny. But Scotland will be exciting. We’ll see mountains and snow! And then, when they’ve found lots of yummy food for us all, we’ll sail far away, south, where it’s sunny and hot all day.”

“Yay! Will we be able to go swimming again?”

“Yes, I’m sure we will be able to go swimming.” He gave her a big grin and hugged her tightly.

“And then we’ll go and see Granny! I’m going to go and tell Andrea. She can come swimming with us too, can’t she?”

Erica turned to run towards the cabin door, eager to share the news of their new destination with her best friend. Andrea was in a cabin down the hall. The girls had discovered on the first day of the cruise that they shared a birthday. To them, it was a sign of something mystical, a special bond. She took a step forwards and stopped dead, wobbling, as if balanced on a tightrope. Another step, and she wobbled again.

“Erica? You okay, sweetie?”

“Yeah, but my feet feel all weird.”

“It’s probably pins and needles, it’ll pass, give it a minute or two.”

“It’s okay, Daddy, I think they’re better already. See you later!”

She skipped out of the door, waving behind her.

• • •

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a bridge like this. One forgets so quickly what the sea looks like when spending so much time buried beneath it!”

“Well in that case, Captain Coote, perhaps you would like to take the captain’s chair? The course is laid in, just give the order and we’re away.”

“Captain Noah, I thought you’d never ask! It would be an honour and a pleasure. Do you know, I’ve never commanded a civilian ship before? Well, I suppose in a way we’re all civilian vessels now, aren’t we?”

 Jake held out a hand towards a very ordinary-looking chair.

“Please, it would be an honour for us. I’m afraid the driving seat isn’t quite up to the standards of the Royal Navy though.”

“Nonsense, lad, you’ve seen my office. This place has the ultimate luxuries: space and a view!” Coote eased himself into the comfortable cream seat, taking in the impressive vista. It wasn’t just the floor-to-ceiling windows running the length and breadth of the bridge that made the view so spectacular, it was the height. Up on deck ten, the captain could be master of all he surveyed, and he could survey just about the entire thirteen-deck cruiser. “Ah, now I could get used to this, you know.”

“You want to watch out, Captain Noah, he’ll be after your job,” Lucya smirked from her console.

“Not necessarily,” Coote said. “A magnificent view has its merits, certainly, but it also means one is very visible oneself. Those of us who are used to a life below the waves have come to appreciate the advantages of being inconspicuous.”

“Maybe so, but there’s nobody left to hide from now, Captain.”

“That remains to be seen, my dear. We shall remain vigilant. I have no doubt that if the Ambush could survive, many other submarines also made it, including some of your former comrades!” Coote chuckled merrily.

“We’re all supposed to be friends now,” Lucya said, a note of defensiveness creeping into her voice. “You don’t need to worry about Russians.”