He gazed longingly at the conventional double bed he had installed to replace the Captain’s bunk, it’s rich burgundy cover smoothed to perfection. The room was tidy and clean as it usually was when Nick had been below all day. It didn’t matter how often he asked the bosun to refrain from putting things away, he took no notice; claimed it was his navy training. Nick liked the homeliness of a little mess around him, it briefly reminded him of living with Brian who needed order around him. It had been the only thing that annoyed him about his twin brother, yet in spite of that he missed him, it had been quite a while since he had been home. Video communication was okay but nothing like hugging someone you loved.
He poured himself a nip of scotch, swirled the glass in his hand and thought,what the heck, and topped it up to half-full. The deep amber liquid rippled in response to the tremble in his hand as he raised the glass slowly to his mouth. He was aware he had been drinking more than usual lately, but it soothed the rough edges and lightened his mood. Within moments the alcohol achieved its effect and he strode to his desk, picked up his Andpad and dictated a half page. He stopped to read what he had said, corrected some of the details and saved. A familiar strong twinge pricked his left leg and he kicked out in annoyance. Ten years ago this leg ached with such pain even medical treatment failed to alleviate the non-stop agony. It was only when he called his brother in Sydney after days of suffering, that he learned Brian had broken his left leg in a skiing accident. He rubbed the leg rapidly hoping his damned fool brother had not had another accident. Then he realised it, together with his sore head was a result of the tossing about he had just experienced on the Bunyip that morning.
It was no good. He felt calmer, but the words he spoke were disjointed, so he decided to postpone the damn report and take a hot shower. The steaming water prickled his skin, pushing away some of the tension, and he emerged feeling slightly better. He grabbed one of the thick bath sheets monogrammed with a small Platypus and vigorously rubbed his reddened skin dry, then returned naked to his room. The Andpad leered at him so he made a determined effort and finished the report, triumphantly ordering the send command.
He poured another Johnny Walker, this time a more conservative measure, and picked up his acoustic guitar. He plucked out his rendition of John Lennon’sImagine, one of his favourites; his musical preferences running through Paul Simon, the Beatles classics and sometimes Tommy Emmanuel, although he found those numbers more advanced than his skills permitted. Yet he tried because he found it relaxing.
He looked at the drink on the bedside table and it reminded him of the last sad years of his father’s life. He found himself thinking of his father again, and the handsome worn face wavered behind his closed eyelids.
He didn’t ascribe to the theory that alcoholism ran in a family, but sometimes when he took a drink, he was reminded of how his alcoholic father had committed suicide. Twenty-five years had passed since then but the pain still lingered. He had managed to forget the events of the last days of his father’s life but could not shake the guilt. He hadn’t seen it coming. Were there warning signs? Nick knew his father blamed the twins for his wife’s death following their traumatic birth. Why did his father reach that irreversible conclusion that life was not worth living? The why had haunted Nick ever since his death, supported by the constant reminder in his mirrored reflection; the face that resembled his father, the same dark chocolate eyes, crinkled mischievously in each corner – the thing most people remarked upon, the same square jawline and the same rich brown hair. The complete picture was one of an extremely handsome face, a face demanding to be noticed. It was also an enigma to Nick why Brian’s appearance was completely opposite; although twins, they were very different. He had always had the unsubstantiated idea that a stranger had snuck into his mother’s hospital room with someone else’s baby. He also felt his father harboured the same suspicions, although he never showed it, and Brian certainly never questioned his parentage.
A loud knock on the cabin door startled him, and he swung his tired body off the bed and shivered as he reached for his lived-in shorts and T-shirt. It was Bosun with an urgent message from a fellow oceanographer in Alaska. He hurried to the radio room grateful to be roused from his troubled thoughts.
Chapter Two
The connection was quick. ‘G’day mate. This’s a surprise. What’s up?’
‘Nicky! Where are you?’ Wolf’s voice boomed. ‘We’ve got a big problem here and I need Bunyip’s sound surveillance system.’
Nobody called him Nicky, he quickly discouraged it, but from Wolf it sounded warm, almost paternal. Besides, who could tell Wolf what to do? ‘I’m still at Mururoa. Christ Wolf, you’re not just ‘round the corner you know. It’d take me at least six days to get up there, and I’m due back in Washington. What the heck’s so urgent?’
‘Six days! ‘I just hope that’s not too late. I’m really worried, something’s cooking here!’ Wolf’s words came at a rush and his German accent grew heavy. ‘Seismic activity’s going off the scale. I want to get closer with your hydrophone system so I can get more accurate results. Can you get up here fast?’
Wolf Drescher had been stationed in the Arctic region since 2025 when the world first began to reel under the Greenhouse effect and global warming. World temperatures had risen gradually; first there were mild winters, then warm winters, until finally winter was a past memory of generations, and unknown to those five years old. Greenland had been reduced to half her size and the polar caps began their slow melt soon after, like ice blocks left out of the refrigerator, flooding the oceans inch by inch until the sea began it’s march upon the unsuspecting land. Beaches and foreshores crumbled before it’s unending onslaught fifteen years ago, and men built ramparts to stem the flow that threatened every city on sea level. The battle had turned to a war and great cities were being evacuated.
Wolf had been keeping a close eye on the effects in the North Pole region and now he spoke of a new threat, one that Nick could not ignore, especially considering what he had found. Wolf was a scientist of the highest calibre, deeply respected and not one to exaggerate, so if he said he was worried, then it was cause for Nick to worry also. He felt an uneasiness deep in his stomach and a nagging thought crawled across his brain.
‘You’re lucky Wolf, we’re all done here, I’ll get under way soon as I can. I’ll need a day in Hawaii to refuel and take on supplies, then I should be there by say, um,Tuesday week, providing the weather stays calm. Meanwhile why don’t you talk to Jeremy, give him something to feed into our computers.’
‘Thanks, Nicky. I knew I could count on you, I’ll be in touch. Roger and out.’
Nick immediately organised a meeting with Jeremy and the scientists in the operations room, and when he arrived he found Jeremy at his usual place, huddled over his computer in the compact room that housed a mind boggling array of wall displays that had replaced cumbersome computers and their associated equipment. Each display was colour coded with Jeremy’s sophisticated system that required a science degree to comprehend.
‘What’s new with that Volcano in Iceland?’ Nick asked.
Jeremy hit a switch and a yellow display blinked, showing a high mountain with a ten kilometre caldera at it’s rugged peak. ‘We’re seeing a swarm of small cluster earthquakes surrounding Katla, some occurring every ten minutes. There she is, she’s showing a strong harmonic tremor pulse.’