LS Devonshire had a waterproof pen light which he awkwardly lit, and they then got to take stock of their situation.
“Is there anyone else, did you hear anyone else out there?”
They had not but Reg had them all call out together as they and the mattress reached the apex of a swell.
Only the lonely wind replied.
Taking the torch Reg shone the light at each of them in turn. He wondered if he looked as shocked and scared as they did. Young Stephanie’s eyes were as large as saucers, but it was the Petty Officer he was most concerned about.
Derek Penman was deathly pale, and a deep cut in his scalp was leaking blood down the side of his head into the water.
“The way I see it.” said Reg. “We have six hours until dawn, we just have to hang on and stay awake until then.”
He shared a little hope with them.
“There is a yank nuke in the area out of Pearl, she was to relieve us and she had our course and speed.” He said earnestly.
“They’ll find us in the morning.”
Reg shone the light again at the injured man, noting his out of focus stare.
“Petty Officer…Derek, can you hold on for six hours?”
PO Penman paused and then nodded.
The cold was invasive, eating into the tissues of the body and Reg knew that if they were going to see the light of day they had to do something positive to stay awake.
“Okay, we’ll play a little game of general knowledge, and I’ll start with an easy one.” He could hear at least one person’s teeth chattering already.
“In 1858 the first recognised Aussie Rules match was played, between Melbourne Grammar and Scotch College.” He paused a moment before asking the question, knowing they were all trying to remember their sports trivia, such as what the score had been and who had scored what.
“Who umpired?”
“Tom Willis!” said Stephanie instantly, and felt rather than saw the men staring at her. “I’ve got six brothers guys, whaddya expect?”
“Correct…you choose the next question Steph.”
“Thank you sir, and in payment for that ‘Boy’ question, answer this…how many tampons are in a pale pink box of Lil-Lets?”
There was laughter from Chloe but silence from the men.
“It’s going to be a long night.” Someone grumbled.
Lightning flashed, and just for a split second Reg saw a dorsal fin.
Vice Admiral Putchev watched the clouds flashing with internal electrical activity overhead and listened to the lonely wind. The fleet was running blacked-out as usual, and each vessel an undefined dark mass against the ocean. He could almost imagine he was the only human left, but he knew there were probably other solitary figures on the other ships doing exactly the same as he was.
The beat of helicopter rotors sounded for the second time in the last half hour. Was it the same two aircraft returning or had the earlier machines merely relieved these two?
He sensed he was no longer alone, and another came to stand beside him at the rail.
“It is going to be a stormy night Admiral, and not just with the weather.” Captain Hong said after a minute or two.
“How so?”
“The American stealth bombers have attacked our ICBM silos, and my country has launched in reprisal.” The captain explained. “It has prompted our planned attacks upon New Zealand and Australia to begin earlier than I would have desired, if it had been up to me. But I am just the bus driver around here.”
This venture, the invasion, was a Chinese effort with support from Russia; as such the PLAN Admiral and the commander of the Third Army’s 1st Corps paid only lip service to the Russian contingent. Putchev was the advisor on carrier operations but the more the Chinese sailors mastered its intricacies the less important the Russians had become to them and their hosts became more and more distant.
It was always going to be a difficult marriage. The Cold War between East and West had seen more Russian and Chinese dead in border skirmishes at each other’s hands, than by NATO. As such, the Russian surface vessels all had large armed ‘Liaison Staffs’ from the People’s Liberation Army Navy on board so the Chinese Admiral could sleep soundly without fear of his allies turning on him.
Trust was not easily fostered after decades of enmity.
Only Captain Hong, the Mao’s skipper, had made any effort to form a friendship. But as he had said, his role was merely the daily running and the functions of the aircraft carrier.
Karl Putchev felt the deck shift beneath his feet and the throb of the engines increase. The long, slow, almost leisurely cruise due south was at an end.
“You’ve launched ICBMs?”
“We must go below Admiral; the fleet will shortly begin to prepare for NATOs response.” He moved towards the nearest hatch. “And there is also a bothersome noise in the engine room I would like your advice on.”
The engine room was the only place on board that they could really be sure that no listening device could be effectively employed.
Making their way down through the lower decks they maintained a professional chatter until standing beside a piece of machinery tucked away in a corner.
“My understanding is that the strike only found success here, in Australia, and that the city of Sydney has been destroyed…moreover, chemical weapon are to be deployed against targets on land, and this may have already begun.”
Vice Admiral Putchev felt a dread coldness at the news.
“What word of your own armies in Europe, my friend?”
A cynical smile appeared on Karl Putchev’s face.
“We have forced some river or other and NATO is in full flight.”
“What, again?” Captain Hong said, in mock surprise. “That’s every day this month, isn’t it?”
It was warm and sunny, far too nice to be in school on a day like today. The heavy old wall clock ticked away hypnotically as Nikki and the rest of Miss Goldmeyer’s second grade class cast longing looks out of the window.
After a long and bitter winter the spring was here at last.
Chalk scratched upon the slate blackboard as Miss Goldmeyer hurried to write out their assignment before the lunchtime bell sounded its gentle chimes.
“NBC RED ONE!..STATION SCRAMBLE!…NBC RED ONE!…STATION SCRAMBLE!”
Miss Goldmeyer placed down her chalk and turned to face the room full of six year olds.
“Girls, quickly and quietly now, open your desks, put away your books and man your aircraft!”
With a jolt Nikki came awake, the klaxon screaming in between the tannoy's order for a general scramble, to get all serviceable aircraft off the ground and warning of a suspected incoming nuclear, biological or chemical weapon attack.
“NBC RED ONE!..STATION SCRAMBLE!…NBC RED ONE!…STATION SCRAMBLE!”
Candice was fighting with the zipper on her sleeping bag as Nikki rolled free of hers, tugging hard she released her RIO and grabbed her helmet before sprinted for the door.
In the corridor she was shocked to see two armed personnel, ‘Adgies’, Air Defence Guards in full nuclear biological and chemical warfare suits with respirators and helmets, looking like bipedal insects with torches gesturing at them to go left, not right, down the central corridor of the accommodation block. Panting she burst through the doors at the far end to see an open back four ton truck, its canvas removed and with its tailgate down just starting to pull away, it was almost full. Aircrew from a half dozen different nationalities were stood holding on to the tubular frame meant to support the missing canvas roof and sides.