Nine

JAKE TOOK HIS dinner rations on the bridge, as was his custom. He was in command, and also had the helm as Chuck’s shift was over for the day. Navigator Dave Whitehall was the only other person with him, maintaining the lookout as they sailed south-west.

“Where do you think they’re going?” Dave asked. “That boat? If something survived at Ile Longue, why are they heading away from it?”

“You’re the navigator, Dave. Haven’t you extrapolated a possible destination from their course?”

“Yep, and it doesn’t make any sense. I’d have to say they were headed for the States, but I’m far from convinced.”

“Why?”

“If the size estimates are right, she just sounds a bit small to be going transatlantic.”

“My dad went transatlantic in something much smaller. And don’t forget those mad people who circumnavigate the globe in bathtub-sized rowing boats. It could make perfect sense to go stateside. If whoever is on board didn’t see the final broadcast, they could easily assume the asteroid hit Europe. It might be reasonable to think, or at least hope, that the Americas escaped unscathed. If you didn’t know better.”

Dave opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by a telephone ringing. He answered it, then passed the receiver to Jake.

“It’s for you. Silvia.”

“Hi, Silvia. How are you? Right…right…okay, that’s unfortunate. Thanks for letting me know.” He replaced the handset. “Don’t suppose you speak Korean do you, Dave?”

“Ha!” Dave shook his head and laughed.

“Shame. Can you believe that out of nearly three thousand people on this ship, there are no Koreans? I thought we had just about every nation covered.”

“Have you tried the Ambush? They might have some polyglots down there.”

“I already asked Coote. No such luck. Ah well, I don’t suppose it matters.” He patted his jacket, feeling the hard rectangle shape of the notebook inside. He didn’t like not knowing something. He liked it even less when the something was linked to dead bodies.

There was a knock at the door, and without waiting for a response, it swung open and McNair wandered in, carrying a plastic bottle filled with water, and a copy of the complete works of Shakespeare.

“Evening,” he said, smiling at both men.

“Bit early this evening, aren’t you?” Jake shook the submariner’s hand vigorously.

“Yes. I thought you might want to knock off a bit earlier, spend some time with Erica. It could be a busy day tomorrow. You should probably make the most of the quiet, now you’re a family man.”

“That’s…that’s very thoughtful of you. Thanks, McNair.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ve got reading material for a couple of months, and it doesn’t make much difference to me if I’m sitting devouring the words of the bard in my cabin, or up here. Besides, I want to get a look at that new boat the second we’re within visual range.”

Jake smiled. “Not entirely altruistic motives then. How is it, out there?” He pointed at the door.

“The atmosphere is electric.” McNair sat in the captain’s chair and got comfy, setting his water bottle down next to him, and putting his book on the arm rest. “Everyone’s talking about the new survivors. It’s the only topic of conversation, wherever you go.”

“We don’t know there are survivors.”

“There’d better be. I think the public have already decided there are, so there’s going to be a lot of disappointment if the thing is empty. Can’t blame them. First sign of life in nearly two months. Heck, I’m excited, and I’m used to spending months at sea seeing hardly a soul.”

Jake didn’t admit that he did not share the excitement. He couldn’t help thinking about the headless men. He was far less convinced that finding new people would be a good thing.

• • •

The walk from deck ten to deck five was the furthest Vicky had been in weeks. The ship seemed to have changed. Last time she had been beyond the limits of their deck had been not long after the virus. The corridors had been quiet then. A large proportion of the community was shut away in their cabins, recovering from the terrible illness. Those who weren’t sick had been standing in for those who were; preparing meals, delivering medication, keeping things running. The atmosphere had been a mixture of relief at having survived the ordeal, and apprehension at what was to come. The contagion had brought home to everyone just how precarious their situation was.

But that had been almost a month ago. Now, on this summer evening, the Spirit of Arcadia felt alive. People were out and about on every deck. Some going to the restaurant for their rations, others leaving, having already eaten. Most of the people on teams had finished their day’s work, and were happy to be spending time with family or friends.

For the first time since the asteroid, Vicky saw the doors to the outside areas were open. Warm, salty air wafted in, reminding her of seaside holidays as a child. On the outside decks, couples walked hand in hand, giggling children skipped and ran, expending their pent-up energy. Somebody somewhere was singing, and a small crowd of onlookers had gathered, clapping along in time to the tune.

“It’s almost like it was before. When we were still on holiday,” she said. She hung onto Dan’s arm, walking slowly, awkwardly.

“It’s not always like this. The news about the other boat has got everyone fired up.”

“It’s good though, isn’t it? Seeing people happy. After all that’s happened I didn’t think anyone would be happy again.”

“People have short memories.”

“Yeah, I suppose. Is it much further?”

“No, not much. Just around the next corner. Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’ll be fine. Just take it steady. I’m not used to all this walking.”

They passed a group of young women, close in conspiratorial conversation. They stopped talking when they saw Vicky.

“They were staring at me,” she said, when the girls were behind them. “Everyone’s going to stare, aren’t they? They’re going to hate me.”

“Don’t say that. Nobody will hate you. This is a good thing, right?”

She nodded, but her sad eyes said she didn’t believe him.

“Here we are. I hope there’s still someone in. It’s gone seven o’clock. Most teams pack up at six.”

Dan knocked on the open door to the medical suite.

“One second!”

“Come on, you can sit down over there,” Dan said, leading Vicky over to a chair by the wall of the outer room.

The door to the treatment room opened, and a muscular man with short cropped hair stepped out. He was drying his hands on a paper towel.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Vardy. How can I…” His voice trailed off. He was looking directly at Vicky. She looked up at him, her dark almond-shaped eyes filled with tears. Dan avoided the doctor’s gaze. “I see,” Vardy said. “Right. Wow. You’d better come through.”

• • •

Jake hadn’t wanted to change up to a larger cabin. It was his view that he should lead by example, and that included making do with the rather mean accommodation he had been given as part of his job as first officer. When Staff Captain Jonny Hollen had been killed, he could have taken over his — larger — cabin. Almost immediately following that murder though, Captain Clayton Ibsen had also died, at Jake’s own hands. When Jake eventually accepted the position of captain, he was offered Ibsen’s palatial suite, but had refused, preferring to let it go to someone ‘more worthy’, in his words.

That was before Lucya, before the virus, and before Erica. Now that the three of them were living together as a family he had had to face facts: the minute single cabin was not practical. So Jake had finally accepted that he had to move. As he had been sharing with Lucya and therefore freed up two cabins with the change (three, if he counted Erica’s late father’s room), he didn’t feel quite so bad about the whole thing. The committee had asked Silvia to find something suitable, and she had put him in a small suite on deck ten. It wasn’t one of the most expensive on the ship; she knew he would never accept something luxurious, but it did have two proper bedrooms and a small salon. Space enough for the new family. It also had the advantage of being very close to the bridge, which meant he and Lucya could both get there in a hurry if need be.