Contents

Title

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Thirty

Thirty-One

Thirty-Two

Thirty-Three

Thirty-Four

Thirty-Five

Thirty-Six

Thirty-Seven

Thirty-Eight

Thirty-Nine

Forty

Forty-One

Forty-Two

Forty-Three

Forty-Four

Forty-Five

Forty-Six

Forty-Seven

Forty-Eight

Forty-Nine

Fifty

Fifty-One

Fifty-Two

Fifty-Three

Fifty-Four

Fifty-Five

Fifty-Six

Fifty-Seven

Fifty-Eight

Fifty-Nine

Sixty

Sixty-One

Sixty-Two

Sixty-Three

Sixty-Four

Sixty-Five

Sixty-Six

Sixty-Seven

Also By The Author

Copyright

Noah’s Ark:

SURVIVORS

Harry Dayle

Prologue

DARKNESS. SILENCE. COMMANDER Grady Osborn squinted through the tiny window of the International Space Station, out across the vast emptiness of the universe. A black void, punctuated only by the tiny pinprick lights of distant stars and galaxies. They appeared brighter than usual due to the total lack of illumination within the spacecraft. And yet, directly in front of the small portal, there was a hole. A giant black disc from which no light escaped. It was getting bigger.

“Whatever the hell that is, it’s getting closer damn it,” Osborne said breaking the silence. The science officer next to him glanced up from his computer screen. Of the three astronauts in residence, he was the only one wearing his NASA issued jumpsuit. The patch bearing his name had been modified by someone, although nobody was willing to claim responsibility for having inserted the extra letter in the surname, changing it from Kingon to Klingon.

“You don’t know that. An absence of light can’t get closer. It’s just getting bigger,” Kingon said.

“No, it’s coming towards us. I can feel it.”

And he could, at least, he believed he could. The hairs on the back of the commander’s neck stood to attention. “Where did Hector go? I’ll fix these lights myself if he can’t get his sorry ass back here. And then there’ll be hell to pay.”

“He said something about radar and wanting to rig something up, try and bounce some radio waves off that hole of yours, see what comes back.”

A clunk and a hiss behind the two men caused both to swing around. A hatch eased open and the darkness was sliced in two by the beam from a flashlight.

“Hector,” Osborn shouted, “tell me what the hell this thing is!”

The third astronaut spun in midair, pushed the hatch closed, then pirouetted to face his senior officer.

“I can’t be sure, but I’d say it was an asteroid.”

“Bullshit!” Osborn rolled his eyes. “If there was an asteroid this close, somebody back home would have seen it and we’d know about it.”

“Anyway, asteroids aren’t,” Kingon began.

“Aren’t generally black, I know,” Hector finished for him. “But this thing is solid, fast, and headed right for us. I didn’t run the full barrage of tests yet. If I had more time I could probably get a better idea of composition, density, maybe work out where it came from. But time is something we don’t have. It’s moving fast. Really fast. The deep space network must have spotted it, but they won’t believe what the data is telling them, probably think it’s a software bug. A beast that size coming from nowhere? I wouldn’t believe it myself, if I couldn’t see it.”

“How fast are we talking about here?” Osborn asked, a note of concern creeping into his voice.

“My calculations aren’t complete, but at a guess commander, we have approximately one hour before that thing, whatever it is, smashes this tin can into a million little pieces.”

It was said so matter-of-factly, that for a moment, everyone was too stunned to speak.

“You’re telling me that thing is an asteroid? That it’s headed for this station?” Osborn managed.

“That is correct. Although given its apparent dimensions, it may better be classed a dwarf planet. It really is an order of magnitude bigger than anything we would ever see this close to home,” Hector said enthusiastically. He sounded more impressed than worried.

“Sterling, can you reconfigure the stabilising thrusters to move us into a new orbit?” Osborn was trying to hide the panic in his eyes. Had to show leadership. Remain calm. Remember his training.

“A new orbit wont be enough to save us,” Hector said before Kingon could reply. “It really is a monster. We’re talking four, maybe five hundred kilometres across at its widest point. Also, and this is mainly speculation, I think it’s putting out a tail of dust that’s maybe ten times bigger than that. Thick dust, really thick. We’ll be pulverised. Or vaporised. Possibly melted. We can’t get out of its way before it hits us.”

“Dammit man, we’re not going to sit here and wait for a freak asteroid to take us out of the sky, we’re gong to try and move this pile of junk. Now!” Osborn tried to claw his way through the air, grasping at the nothingness, willing himself towards the thruster control console.

“Grady!” Kingon shouted. He launched himself from his terminal, pushing off the wall with his feet. He floated in front of the commander, blocking his path. “If Hector is right, if that thing is as big as he says, then we can’t get out of its way. We don’t carry the fuel for that kind of manoeuvre. We have to contact mission control, right now! We have to tell them what’s happening.”

“I fear,” Hector said, not looking at either man, “that telling Houston is not going to make much difference.”

Kingon looked at the younger man. “What do you mean? It’s our duty to inform mission control of anything that jeopardises this mission. I’d say getting liquidized by an oversized rock counts as jeopardy, wouldn’t you?”

“He means …he means, we can’t save them, don’t you Hector?” Osborne’s tone had changed. His voice was that of a man who knew he was beaten. “Because that thing’s not just going to take us out, is it? It’s headed for them. It’s headed for Earth.”

One

JAKE SHIFTED HIS weight from foot to foot. His position at the back of the theatre afforded him an excellent view of the assembled crowd, but not the comfort of a chair. Every seat in the house was taken. Every step of the aisles between the blocks of seating was also filled with people sitting, crouching, and some standing. The theatre was built to accommodate just over a thousand, yet somehow, between passengers and crew, more than twice that number of people had crammed themselves inside.