• • •
The first thing Rupert Bembridge noticed when he came to was that his head was throbbing so hard he wasn’t entirely sure he was alive at all. He didn’t think it was possible to be conscious and in so much pain.
The second thing he noticed was that both his hands were empty. The Maglite had gone. It had either broken or been taken by someone, because there was no light to be seen in any direction. He knew the other hand had held something important, but his thoughts swam uncontrollably in his head. It was painful to concentrate, but that was what he had to do.
The gun.
He remembered the gun. Why had he been brandishing it? The door. The door had been open. He was trying to stop the prisoners from getting out, then something had happened and it had all gone mad.
Bembridge hauled himself up onto his hands and knees. His head still pounded but he tried to block out the intense discomfort. He shuffled forwards on all fours, feeling in front of him for a wall, the gun, the torch, or the door.
His outstretched fingers found a wall first, so he shuffled along it until he reached the opening to the hastily converted prison cell. It was wide open. The sickly smell of alcohol mixed with sweat wafted out. Rupert didn’t need a light to know that there was nobody inside.
• • •
“Are we hit? Did it hit us?” Jake found himself shouting, but the noise from the explosion had already subsided. The prevailing wind carried the falling spire of water away from the bridge and out to sea.
Vardy struggled to regain his balance. The ship had started to roll back again, causing yet more disorientation. He was winded, and spoke in barely a whisper. “No.”
Lucya was the only person who had seen McNair crash into the map table. She was nimble and light on her feet, and had survived the impact of the tidal wave better than the others. She was already on her way to help the injured helmsman.
“Are you sure?” Jake asked. He was gripping a secondary navigation console, his fingers turning white with the strain as the Spirit of Arcadia crashed back down into the sea, sending a shockwave of vibration through the ship. “Jesus!”
“I’m sure.” Vardy drew short, sharp breaths, refilling his lungs as best he could. “That was a non-contact explosion. I’ve seen them before, with test firings. Believe me, we’d know if we’d been hit.”
Lucya was down on her hands and knees, crawling beneath the table. McNair was twisted into a position that made her wince with pain just to look at. She checked his neck for a pulse. He was alive. Mercifully for him, he wasn’t conscious.
“What about the Ambush?” Jake asked. “Did it hit the sub?”
“No. I said it was a non-contact explosion.”
“So they got away?”
“Possibly.”
“You said non-contact?”
“If that went off in close proximity, they will have suffered. Hull breach, electrical interference, harm to the propeller, there’s all sorts of damage they could have endured.”
“We have to call them. Martin can get the battery backup online.”
“No.” Vardy snapped the word, taking Jake by surprise. “They can’t respond. Any transmissions from them and they’ll give away their position.”
“Who the hell shot a torpedo at us anyway? This makes no sense!”
“Guys? I need help here,” Lucya called from the floor at the back of the room. “McNair is injured.”
Vardy limped towards the table, noticing for the first time that he had hurt his leg on something. “Great, now I’m going to be walking like Grau, as well as running his medical centre.”
Jake checked himself over and was relieved to find he was in one piece and unscathed. He knew that wouldn’t be the case for everyone aboard. Medical would once again be overrun. The cuts and bruises of the masses would have to wait; the temporary hospital was already full of the Lance’s crew, and they had to take priority.
“We have to get him to medical,” Vardy said after taking a cursory look over McNair. “And we have to be very careful about moving him. We need a stretcher and trolley.”
“I’ll go,” Jake volunteered.
“I’ll come with you,” Lucya said. “I’m going down to engineering to see how long before they get the emergency power on.”
Vardy looked at her. “And?”
“Okay. And on the way I can check the classroom and make sure Erica is okay.”
• • •
“Dan, will you stop pacing, you’ll wear out the carpet….ooh!” Vicky’s last word twisted into a long and pained groan.
Dan ran to her, kneeling in front of where she was perched on the end of the bed. “That’s another one!” I should have timed it. How long ago was that explosion?
Vicky puffed and puffed, then let out a long sigh. “It’s not another one. It’s just cramp. Stop worrying, will you?”
“Stop worrying? Are you mad? That’s two contractions! You’re obviously going into labour!”
She eased herself back until she was lying on the bed. “Don’t be daft. It’s not due for another two weeks yet. It’s too soon. It’s just cramp. That explosion made me jump, that’s all.”
Dan started pacing again. He looked at his watch, spoke to himself, then out loud. “I think I should fetch Doctor Vardy. He’ll know.”
“No! Don’t leave me on my own.”
“Why? If it’s just cramp…”
“It is just cramp. But still, I’d rather you stayed with me. Look, if and when my waters break, that’s when we’ll call the doctor, okay? Listen, calm down. It’s not as if we have a long drive to a maternity unit ahead of us. We can be in the medical centre in minutes Or Doctor Vardy and Carrie can come here.”
“I’d like one of them to come here now.”
“There’s no point wasting their time over nothing. They’ve got those people from the other ship they need to be helping. They don’t want us getting in the way.”
Dan was far from convinced, but he knew better than to argue with his wife. “Just promise me, if anything changes, you’ll tell me and I’ll go and get Carrie, okay?”
She nodded, but avoided his eye.
• • •
The ability for rumours to spread like wildfire through the Spirit of Arcadia was both a good and a bad thing. As many untruths and half-truths were in circulation as facts at any one time. Misinformation was disseminated with alarming rapidity. On this particular occasion, the gossip network was something of a blessing. As Jake and Lucya made their way down to medical in search of a stretcher and trolley, they encountered people on every deck who were confused, injured, or both.
Everyone wanted to know what had happened.
“Is the ship sinking?
“Did someone attack us?”
“Was there an underwater earthquake?”
“Are we safe?”
“Why did the power go off?”
“Where is the Ambush?”
The couple quickly realised it was better they split up. By taking different routes they could more efficiently get the truth out. At least, as much as they knew of the truth.
“The Ambush was attacked. We don’t know by whom. They missed. We’re not sinking. The power will be back on soon.”
The majority of people were understanding about the lack of detail. Simply being told that they weren’t about to meet a watery grave was enough; the finer points could wait. Not everyone’s curiosity was so easily satiated though. From some, the questions kept on coming.
“Who attacked the sub?”
“Will they attack again?”
“Will they attack us?”
Jake was sympathetic to this need for information; he wanted answers as much as the next man. Replying — truthfully — that he didn’t have a response led some to question his leadership. But for the most part the community was too preoccupied with dealing with their shock, as well as their cuts and bruises, to be engaged in political shenanigans. Jake made it to the medical suite relatively unscathed.