“Garet? Report! Where are you, damn it?” Max stared at his radio, as if Grace would feel his eyes on her and come out of hiding. But the little speaker remained resolutely silent.
• • •
Lucya felt the strength leave her body. It was as if someone had opened a valve and let her very essence flow out. Her legs went numb and weak, and she fought to remain standing. Her lungs emptied. She forgot to breathe in, making her head spin even more.
The scene before her was almost impossible to comprehend. She had already been grappling with the fact that someone, somewhere, had apparently fired a torpedo at them. And now…now someone was holding a gun to her adopted daughter’s neck.
It was Erica who brought Lucya back to her senses. She flinched. Whimpered. A tiny sound, barely audible through the door. Lucya snapped out of her stupor. As she breathed again, her eyes opened wide. Rage flooded in, filling the vacuum created by the shock. Instinct drove her, and she flew at the door, hammering and kicking it with all her strength, a wild beast desperate to save her child. With every blow, she screamed. Her thick dark hair flew about her scarlet face.
The door resisted.
Another movement brought her ferocious attack on the barricaded entrance to an abrupt halt. The uniformed man with the gun pressed into Erica’s neck was shaking his head slowly. When he saw that he had her attention, he pushed the barrel harder into the girl’s tender flesh, making her cry out in pain. Lucya wanted to fly at the door again, but a sharper shake of the soldier’s head made it clear that the consequences would not be good. It took all of her self-control to prevent herself from moving.
“Let her go!”
They were the first coherent words she had spoken since the lights had come on.
The man shook his head again.
“You understand me. Let her go, and I’ll let you live.”
The man’s lips turned up in the slightest hint of a smile. His head turned twice more.
“What is it you want? You want something, right?” Lucya fought to control her breathing, and her temper. She focussed on Erica. She had to stay calm, for her sake. “Tell me!” She took another deep breath, then repeated, less aggressively, “Tell me.”
The man spoke. Just one word. His accent was strong, but Lucya understood at once.
“Captain.”
• • •
Entering cabin 845 wearing a paper mask, Jake was reminded of the terrible virus that had claimed the lives of many on the ship, and had almost taken his own. It had started right there, in that very cabin. The room had subsequently become the centre of operations for the medical team as they fought the malady, their own rooms quickly having been overwhelmed. Now 845 had been pressed into service once more, filled with the twelve remaining members of the Lance’s crew.
The room was the same, but some of the nurses were new to Jake. The Arcadia’s original complement had been victims of the virus. Grau Lister, ship’s doctor, was in attendance, but he was so weakened by the effects of the virus that he was there purely in an advisory role. The new nurses had been drafted in during the outbreak, and had stayed on since, but Jake hadn’t met all of them yet. Carrie had looked after him and Lucya during their recovery, and now she was attending to Captain Coote in the original medical suite.
An enthusiastic young nurse called Kevin welcomed Jake, and directed him to the captain of the Lance.
“He’s very weak,” Kevin explained. “You won’t be able to talk to him for long. The drip is to get fluids into him. They were all badly dehydrated. They’re also on tranquillisers for the pain.”
“Will they be okay? In the long run?”
“Oh yes, I’m sure they will. None of them have any life-threatening injuries. Doctor Vardy is running blood tests, just to be sure, hence these.” He pointed a finger at his own face mask. “We should have the results back soon.”
“I wouldn’t count on that. Doctor Vardy is looking after our helmsman. He may be some time.”
Kevin nodded. They arrived at a bed at the far end of the room. Jake recognised the man lying in it. He had been the weakest of those to come out of the Lance. It was the man who had thanked them. “This is Captain Ove Kolstad,” Kevin said. “Ove, this is Captain Jake Noah. He would like to talk with you. Do you think that would be alright?”
The gaunt man gave the slightest of nods.
“Okay. Keep it brief please, captains. I’ll be over there if you need me.”
Kevin got out of the way, giving the two men some privacy.
“Hello, Ove.” Jake spoke softly. He found a chair and pulled it up to the side of the bed. “How are you feeling? Are they looking after you well?”
He nodded. “Wife,” he croaked. “Have you…seen my…wife?” The words were barely a whisper. Each one had to fight its way out, battling against exhaustion and the effects of the drugs.
“I haven’t spoken with any of the others. There hasn’t been time,” Jake said. “But I’m sure she’s being well looked after. Ove, I need to talk about what happened to you. About how you ended up prisoner on your own ship. I wanted to give you more time, but time is now against us.”
“Explosion?”
Jake nodded. “Yes. Someone attacked us. Or our escort submarine. Do you know who that might be? You’re the only other survivors we’ve seen since the asteroid. We’re at a loss to understand what’s going on.”
“Submarine.” The word was spoken with more conviction.
“Yes, we have a submarine escort. From the Royal Navy. It’s a long story.”
Ove shook his head. As he did so, he winced. “No. Submarine… Attacked by…submarine.”
“You were attacked by a submarine?” Jake sat up straighter in his chair.
“Yes! Koreans. Came from nowhere. Boarded us.” He was speaking more clearly; the words came more easily now. “Had guns. Put crew…below.”
“Where was this? How did you survive the asteroid?”
“North Pole. Expedition. Asteroid went high…into sky.”
Jake nodded. “Yes, we were there too. That’s how we survived. We can’t have been far apart. We searched for radio signals, but never saw or heard you.”
The bedridden captain shook his head again, screwing up his eyes. “Radios gone. Radar gone. No communication.”
“I understand.”
“Returned to Longyearbyen. Never made it. Submarine found us. Attacked.” Ove stopped, and drew several short, sharp breaths as he recalled the events. “Killed some of…my crew. Decapitated. Thrown into sea.” A tear formed in the corner of his left eye. “My friend…Karl…tried escape. Took raft. Maybe he still…out there?”
Jake closed his eyes and thought of the rafts they had recovered. The headless man they had found in the fishing net. He knew nobody who had left the Lance could have survived.
“Maybe.”
“Koreans…force me to sail…Faslane.”
Jake’s eyes widened. “The military base? We were there! We went to Longyearbyen too. How did we miss you?”
“No… Never got to Longyearbyen. Forced to Faslane instead. Submarine followed. Koreans use us…try to make base open for us.”
Jake processed the information, nodding to himself. “They used you as bait. With the submarine hidden, they hoped Faslane would open up to the Lance. But there’s nobody there. We went inside. They were all… There’s nobody there. Ove, we found a raft in the loch, at Faslane. There was a body. Was it…was it one of your crew? Another escapee?”
“No. Not escaped. Base not open. Koreans sent landing party…some of their men, one of mine. All killed but one. Koreans think it was survivor who killed others, but not true… It was ash. Poisonous. They cut off head of survivor. Put him in raft as warning.”
“Traitor scum,” Jake whispered under his breath. “They killed one of their own as a warning to others.”
Ove nodded. “After, they put me below. Keep my wife…as prisoner, above. She help them…navigate.”