He checked his watch. Six minutes to the deadline. There was no more time, but he had to choose his words carefully. He bent over the little radio, pressed in the transmit button, and began to speak.
• • •
Dan Mitchell was getting desperate. He’d arrived in the medical centre to find a sign on the door that said “Back soon. In case of emergency, please try cabin 845.” How soon, he’d wondered? He banged on the door anyway, but nobody came. So he had gone back to the lift, back up to deck eight, and found cabin 845.
That room had had a sign on the door too. “Quarantine: Strictly No Admittance.” And again, he’d tried banging on the door anyway. This time someone had come. They’d shouted out the same message as the sign outside; they weren’t letting anyone in.
“My wife is having a baby!” he had cried.
There had been a pause, then: “Is this supposed to be some kind of joke?”
“No! Really. Surely you must know about this if you’re medical?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t help. This is a quarantine area. Nobody in or out without permission from Doctor Vardy.”
“Where is Doctor Vardy?”
“Probably in the medical centre.”
“I’ve just come from there.”
Another pause. He’d thought he heard voices, a discussion behind the door. Then: “He might be on deck two. By the classroom.”
“Thanks.”
Deck two wasn’t an area Dan had frequented. There had been no conferences on the cruise, he didn’t gamble and so had not been to the casino, and since the asteroid he had had no call to visit the classrooms. So he wasn’t sure what to expect when he had gone down there, but it certainly wasn’t being met by an armed guard.
“I need to see Doctor Vardy.”
“Nobody goes in or out. Sorry.”
“But my wife is having a baby!”
“Try medical.”
“I have. There’s nobody there!”
“Sorry, mate. Can’t help you then.”
“But…she’s having a baby!”
“You said. P’raps you should be with her?”
“But we need a doctor, or a midwife. Is Carrie down here?”
The man had not answered the question, but Dan had been sure the answer had to be yes. “We have an ongoing situation here, mate. Nobody goes in or out. I’m sorry I can’t help. I must ask you to leave.”
Dan had done as he was told. He thought about Vicky. She would have argued, forced her way through, armed guard or no armed guard. But he wasn’t Vicky, he was Dan. The shy one, the weak one, the one who avoided conflict at all costs.
After deck two he had tried the bridge, but was told to get lost. He’d tried to find someone from the committee, but none could be found. He’d even gone to the security office in the hope that a security escort could find Vardy, or indeed anyone medically trained to help, but that office was locked up and empty.
Now, after exhausting all ideas, he decided to try the medical centre one more time. Dan never ran, but he walked very fast down the corridor of deck five. Faster than he remembered ever having walked before.
The sign was still hung on the door.
Back Soon
He tapped politely, then when there was no reply, he banged harder. “How long is soon? Is nobody there? My wife is having a baby!”
Nobody answered.
Thirty
THE PAIN WAS becoming unbearable now. Her legs were in danger of getting cramp, and if that happened, Lucya knew she wouldn’t be able to avoid crying out. She tried to stretch them, to bend them, to do anything to help improve the circulation, but her movement was so restricted, the tiny movements she could manage made almost no difference at all.
The legs were only half the problem. Her arms in front of her had gone completely numb. After the sneeze, she hadn’t dared try and replace the plastic vial in the neck band for fear of making a noise and drawing more attention to herself. Now it sat precariously in her hands. She couldn’t feel it, so just gripped it tightly, an action that was bringing her more pain as her muscles cried out for some respite.
Finally, the cold was making the whole ordeal twice as agonising. Vardy had warned her. He’d said the cold would bite, that she would go through hell. When the fans had restarted, it hadn’t seemed so bad. The air was chilled, but hardly up to the Arctic conditions they had experienced at the North Pole. She’d been moving then, though. Exerting energy, generating body heat. Now, motionless in the coffin-like tube, the chilly air was slowly refrigerating her. Her body shivered involuntarily, desperately trying to create warmth, and she fought it constantly for fear of making noise.
There was one upside to the torment, one positive aspect to the situation that kept her hanging on: the Koreans were suffering even more.
She focussed her mind on listening to what was going on in the classroom, trying to picture the scene playing out so close by yet out of sight.
It had started with mumbled complaints. At least, she assumed they were complaints. It was hard to tell; the men sounded pretty upset all the time anyway. Since the virus had been released, there had been a definite downturn in the vibe. There had been coughs and sneezes. Lucya didn’t think she’d heard any of those before releasing the fine spray, but she hadn’t been paying attention then either. A better signal had come when the leader’s voice, easy to pick out because it sounded somehow angrier than any of the others, had made some kind of demand of one of his men. The man had replied, and then an argument had ensued. This had resulted, she had deduced from sound alone, in the man being hit by the leader. Whatever reaction he had been expecting, he didn’t get, and the other men had all gasped. After that there had been a bit of a panic, and the men talked among themselves, their voices filled with fear. The leader had brought them to attention, and snapped more orders. The man who had been struck was carried into a corner. Not the same corner as Erica, but a corner that Lucya could just about see through the grille. Luckily for her, the man was, by this time, unconscious. Had he been awake, he would have been looking directly at the grille and would likely have seen her hands. As it was, Lucya could see his head. Not clearly, but enough to be sure that his hair was falling out and his face was covered in deep red blotches.
She was stunned. These were unmistakable effects of the advanced stages of the virus. It was working incredibly fast.
No sooner had the man been dumped in the corner away from the others, than more bickering had started up. The leader was losing control as fear and uncertainly gained the upper hand.
The children remained quiet. Those who had the unfortunate idea to speak or to cry were rapidly shouted down. They’d learned quickly, and kept their noise level to a minimum.
Lucya started to shiver again. She battled with herself to stay still, to stay silent. Her concentration was broken by a voice.
It was Erica.
“Excuse me? I think you should get a doctor.”
“Quiet!” The angry bark of the leader.
“Sorry. It’s just, you’re all sick, aren’t you? People on this ship were sick like that. Lots of them died, but the doctors saved the rest. If you don’t see a doctor, you might die.”
“I say quiet, girl!”
Erica ignored him. Lucya shut her eyes and silently begged the girl to do as the man said and shut up, but in vain. “If you’re dead, you won’t be able to get on your ship, will you? I thought you wanted to get on your ship? You should see Doctor Vardy. He helped lots of people.”
“Stop!” His voice got louder; he was coming closer to Erica. Then he cried out in pain. One of his men said something and he shouted back at them twice as loud. Then, silence once more.
Lucya waited for someone to move or say something, but it seemed they were all in fear of their leader, who, by her best estimation, was somewhere close by, near the ventilation grille.