The good captain, p.23
The Good Captain, page 23
‘And when did this happen?’
‘Thththhree…three or four hours after we ppppicked you up.’
‘So why hasn’t Mama gone ancient?’
Sook fought the folds of skin around his neck to look over his shoulder. ‘CCCCaptain said not to…not to bbbbother. Just ttttto head south and ggggget as far…far…far into…into open wwwwater as possible.’
‘You need to explain to me how this can happen so soon after a complete reprogram.’ Christopher’s exhaustion was fuelling his anger. ‘And how two satellites can hook Mama at the same time.’
‘May…Maybe they’re ppppppair trawling.’
‘That’s your theory?’
‘WWWWorks on fffffffish so why…why not…why not us? A dddigital net between…between two ssssatellites scoop… scooping up everything in their…in their path. Make…Makes ssssense to me.’
‘Wouldn’t the haul be too big? Like the real thing, they’d have to sort through a mountain of trash just to find what they were looking for.’
‘ThThThere aren’t too many…too many ssssships on the sea these days, and mmmmmaybe…maybe they’re looking for a… for a ssssignature. I can’t…I can’t think what else it would be.’
‘What do you mean by signature?’
‘The ppprograms I write, they…they ccccan’t…can’t be done by just…by just anyone. Maybe…Maybe they’re ttttracking my work.’
‘You mean you can’t code for Mama anymore?’
‘No. I can…I can fffffix it. I just…I just nnnnneed to chchchange the way I —’
‘It’s advertising as well, isn’t it?’
Sook was shocked. Christopher never interrupted him when he was speaking.
‘Other coders recognise your work and discuss it, don’t they?’
‘I supppppose ththth —’
‘But what they’re discussing is never really private, is it? It’s out there, on the IV, where anyone who knows where to look can read it.’
‘I…I…I —’
‘It’s also a bit of a contest, isn’t it? To see who can write the best code?’
Sook’s jaw hung open – his lips and tongue unable to articulate a single sound.
That there was more than one hook was news to Mel as well and made her protective instincts boil over. ‘Jesus, are you trying to get Mama sunk?’
The voice from the pilot chair broke the spell and Sook found a perfectly formed response inside his mouth. ‘You ccccan take over any…any time you like.’
Mel located the quarterglow tucked inside her jacket. ‘Would the results be any different if I did?’
Sook turned back to his desk. ‘WWWasn’t…Wasn’t me who bbbbrought the ccccargo aboard.’ Tapped his control panel. ‘Wasn’t…Wasn’t me who ggggot Roope killed.’
The bridge and communications room fell silent, allowing Christopher to pause just long enough to question what he was saying – how he was behaving – and if indeed his recovery from Hao was complete. He considered Mel as well. There was nothing insignificant about ramming Mama through a coral reef and scraping her hull. It would have left the carpenter stressed and tired and made her customary concern for the ship’s welfare lose all finesse. No wonder Sook’s stutter was raging and he appeared so broken-hearted – after contributing to every attack Mama had ever made he didn’t deserve to have his competency or loyalty questioned. Blaming the communications officer for hooks was like blaming the goalie for a soccer team losing a match – cheap and gutless. And perhaps Mel was right – would the results have been the same irrespective of what anyone did? Was that why Rena had turned Mama towards the cyclone – because she knew it was the only place left for them to hide? The captain’s logic materialised as Christopher looked to the pilot chair. ‘That destroyer could easily have told the satellites where to look.’
Listening to her own voice ringing inside her head had brought Mel to a similar state of contrition. She twisted around. ‘You think that’s why they didn’t fire on us when they had the chance?’
‘How long until we’re in range of the nearest air force?’
‘Two hours ago. Why do you think Mama is hurrying?’
‘Which is the closest?’
Mel tapped the halfglow attached to the pilot chair. ‘New Zealand, then China’s base in Vanuatu. After that it’s Australia and Indonesia.’
Christopher admired the captain’s tactic of using the cyclone as a shield. If anyone wanted to come after Mama they would have to risk flying close to an increasingly treacherous weather system. ‘Sook, any sign of aircraft approaching?’
Despite his callous comment it appeared that for the moment he was still Mama’s communications officer. ‘No… No ppppplanes sighted.’ A warning signal flashed on his second glow. ‘BBBBBut we have…we have jellyfish.’
The first mate turned back to Sook and noticed how the tiny hairs along the edge of his ears caught the light of his glows. ‘How many do you think?’
‘Enough…Enough to mmmake…make a reading. WWWWe need to chchchange course otherwise Ma…Mama is ggggoing to get…get sssstuck in the middle of those things.’
‘What direction are they drifting?’
‘North…North-east.’
‘Any chance we can slip past?’
Sook pointed to the glow. ‘RRRReading jelly…jellyfish dep..depends on dddensity. A swarm…A swarm that bbbbbig is pppprobably fif…fifteen or twenty…twenty metres deep at its…at its centre, bbbbbut along…along its edges it ccccould be half…half as thick, which…which means they would… wouldn’t show up on radar. If it’s…If it’s a ssssssuper swarm it might be…be ffffifty or sixty…sixty nautical miles wide.’
‘Change course eight degrees west.’ Christopher returned to the captain’s chair.
‘Changing course eight degrees west.’
‘Increase speed by fifteen knots.’
‘Increasing speed by fifteen knots.’ Mel eased the throttle forward and felt the deep internal movement of Mama shifting gears.
Christopher stared into the dark surface of the sea. Trying to detect jellyfish at night was almost impossible, and attempting to navigate around them was even harder. Only when Mama became stuck would they know they had failed, and by then it would be too late – she would be trapped – a sitting target.
30.
Rena stood at the port bow and closed her eyes to the current of morning air that streamed from the south-east, carrying in its draught evidence of the weather system just beyond the horizon. Across her tongue she tasted the approach of warmer water; around her ears she heard the whisper of a strengthening gale; against her brow she felt the disturbance of low pressure, and upon her skin she sensed the velocity of mounting waves. Inside of her nose, however, the sulphurous stench of the jellyfish that surrounded Mama continued to dominate. All efforts to avoid the super swarm with a more northerly course had failed. The wind and waves behind the Nemopilema nomurai had been too strong and too fast and as Sook had warned their range was much wider than his radar had been able to detect. Never before had she encountered the species this far south, and a lifetime spent at sea was no inoculation against astonishment at their size. Most of their coppery bells were three metres wide, though Euan had pointed to some he judged with a span of four, if not five. Precise measurements were difficult to achieve in a smack so large and densely packed that it had changed the colour of the ocean to a dull and dismal bronze. With no swordfish, tuna or leatherback turtles left to keep their numbers in check they had been free to bloom along the east coast of New Zealand then follow a food source north until they were blown off course by the gathering stages of a very intense tropical cyclone. The smoothly domed creatures with long knotted tentacles swirling underneath had then entombed Mama in a muted world where only the faintest vibrations of the ocean’s signposts could be received. They were not lost – not yet – but for the moment it was the jellyfish who dictated the course that Mama took and the speed at which she travelled. Both propellers would have become horribly entangled if they had attempted to turn, and it was also unlikely that Mama could have forged a successful path through thousands of tonnes of biomass all moving in the same direction. Thankfully, not even the weight of so many jellyfish could withstand the pull of the storm, so Mama’s destination remained essentially unchanged. But it was frustrating for the captain that even with a kite sail in the air their pace was slower than one-tenth of what they currently required.
Rena opened her eyes and was surprised to find Euan still at her side. His watch for the jellyfish had lasted most of the night, and with Mama now trapped she had presumed there was nothing left for him to do besides move below deck and catch up on rest.
What the captain failed to appreciate was the inflated sense of pride that Euan had acquired from being the first to raise the alarm and calling Mama to a halt. For a moment it felt as if he had taken command of the ship, and his potential to someday captain a vessel of his own had at last been ratified. He also relished the opportunity to play a central role in something more important than mopping passageways or strongarming the cargo. After missing out on the excitement of the destroyer chase and Mama’s dive – not to mention the assignment to Tasmania – he refused to go below and return to the drudgery of helping Sonja and Gaiek to sort through the metal scavenged from Hao. Being in command of Mama, albeit temporarily, was much closer to the type of work he had envisioned for himself, and he intended to hold on to it for as long as possible.
Unfortunately, what Euan failed to appreciate was that ambition and pride had nothing to do with his decision to stay up all night. Such motivations were little more than distractions – surface impulses concocted by his subconscious as it pursued the more significant goal of self-preservation. The decisions to slap his face whenever he felt tired; pinch his armpits; concoct dance routines and sing bawdy songs in an effort to stay awake may have felt autonomous at the time, but in reality they were instinctual responses from a brain that knew a storm was approaching and what effect it would have upon his body, and how it always went so much worse for him whenever he stayed below deck.
The existence of such a self-deception gradually dawned upon Euan as he watched the tropical cyclone advance inside the horizon. He had been waiting for the captain to thank him for his hard work; his dedication; to insinuate a future promotion and admit that Bill’s appointment to midshipman ahead of him had been a mistake – but all she did was stare at the approaching weather. Meanwhile, a familiar unease crept beneath his skin – down inside his stomach. And with each deep breath swallowed to bring it under control he sensed the promises made to himself, as well as everyone else, begin to crumble. ‘It’ll no happen this time Captain,’ he insisted in a desperate attempt to conceal his failure. ‘I’m ready for dooty no madder what the conditions.’ Between each grimace and gulp he called himself stupid – well unclever. Despite his boasting it was happening again. But she’ll no see. Rena notices nowt about the crew. ‘I’ve had ma injections. If there were even a possibility I’d say so. But no this time, Captain. I can promise.’
The wind made an abrupt shift from constant to particular and filled Rena’s mind with images of white crests being blown off restless trenches then absorbed by opaque hearts. The face of the ocean was about to change. She looked over the gunwale and saw how the jellyfish were already moving faster. ‘Nothing is going to escape this storm,’ she privately mumbled as she turned towards Euan. Neither of them was tall, and yet the Scotsman’s habit of tilting his head sideways – as if peeking up a person’s nostrils – made her few additional centimetres feel like twice the advantage. If not for the stubble on his chin and the creases at the sides of his eyes she would have thought him a boy – a boy already showing signs of seasickness.
‘I didn’t expect the storm was going to be this —’
An alarm sounded across Mama’s deck and turned the pair towards the bridge where Mel stood holding her binoculars and pointing north-west. They made it inside the wheelhouse just as the two fighter jets crossed the sky at ten thousand feet, leaving in their wake an abrasive tear of engine noise.
‘Retract the sail,’ ordered Rena as she arrived on the bridge. It would make little difference – Mama had already been spotted – and she acknowledged how there was no better indication of fear than reliance upon rehearsed protocols.
Bill had the helm and set the winch into reverse while deflating the sail.
Sook stood in his doorway – bleary-eyed and confused. He had fallen asleep in his chair and the sudden blare of the aircraft had almost tipped him backwards. ‘WWWWWWhat were…were they? Any…Anyone see?’
Mel opened all channels and leaned towards the microphone in the bridge control panel. ‘All crew prepare for combat. This is not a drill. All crew prepare for combat. This is not a drill.’ She then joined Euan and Sook beneath a small box attached to the wheelhouse overhead and shared out survival bracelets that snapped on to their ankles and wrists. Bill found hers inside the arm of the pilot chair, while Rena ignored the entire procedure. She was more interested in watching the two planes bank sharply to avoid the edge of the approaching cyclone while their pilots, in all likelihood, transmitted camera footage back to their base and awaited orders to descend through their chain of command.
‘Workshop to bridge.’ Gaiek’s whiskered face appeared in the interglow. ‘What type of planes were they?’
‘MMMMMama…Mama is ancient so wwwe’ve only got our eyes, and no…and no…no one seems to have used them.’
Bill turned around in the pilot chair, her lips pale with fear. ‘I think they were Exceptions.’ She had been studying aircraft in her spare time but was still unconfident in her ability to identify them accurately.
‘Respectable or Parasitic?’ Behind Gaiek’s voice were the sounds of Sonja pushing aside boxes and paraphernalia as he searched the corners of the workshop.
The midshipman leaned further out of her chair. ‘I couldn’t tell.’
Mama pitched into a trough as a tourniquet rolled beneath her keel.
‘Oh Jesus,’ exclaimed Euan as he yanked open the port door to the bridge, leaned over the railing and vomited into the wind.
‘Did they have a pointed or snubbed nose?’ Gaiek wondered what Bill was doing on the bridge if she couldn’t tell the difference?
She closed her eyes in an effort to re-create the scene. ‘I think they were pointed.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘No. How can I be? They were moving so fast.’
‘She’s right,’ interjected Mel. ‘They were Parasitic.’
‘Well why didn’t you say so sooner?’ Gaiek tapped the interglow blank.
Bill turned back around in her chair and received a nod of approval from Mel. On any other day it would have been a cherished prize, but under the current circumstances the idea of being tested seemed preposterous.
Mel had just wanted to give Bill a boost in confidence that she could draw upon throughout the coming minutes. ‘They’re not here to observe us,’ she explained.
‘Prepare Mama for attack,’ ordered Rena.
Sook grabbed the back of Euan’s t-shirt to pull him inside and below deck.
There was a tremble in Bill’s fingers as she keyed the appropriate buttons. ‘Antenna and crow’s nest retracted. Organic components isolated. Should I seal the bridge?’
The carpenter exchanged a look with Rena. ‘Won’t make any difference if they decide to —’
‘Let me through,’ shouted Angus from the bottom of the wheelhouse stairs. ‘I want to speak to the captain. I demand to speak with the captain.’
Furious that no one had thought to lock the cargo inside his cabin, Mel leaned over the stairwell and, ‘Someone take control of things down there.’
‘I’m the best chance for survival you have,’ he shouted back.
Rena pressed her brow against a window and estimated that the storm would be upon them in a matter of minutes. Heavy rain was already drumming the wheelhouse roof, accompanied by the toots and whistles of the wind blowing through the half a dozen vents that remained unsealed. She observed faceless men and crossed swords rising in the distance, and saw the jellyfish around Mama being gradually pried apart.
Mel double tapped the interglow. ‘Ken, report.’
He and Pali were in the far corner of the engine room working to secure all temper portions inside the steering engine.
‘Have the ballast tanks been set to automatic?’
The chief engineer bristled at the question – when the hell was Mel going to realise that other people cared about Mama too?
‘I said, have the ballast tanks been —?’
‘All done,’ shouted Pali, her indignation, for once, on par with Ken’s. ‘SelfCorrect is operational and all storm protocols have been put in place.’
‘If you don’t let someone know that I’m still alive then it’s going to be a complete blood bath.’
Why had the cargo still not been secured? wondered Mel as she tapped the interglow blank.
Through the windows at the rear of the bridge Rena spotted Sonja and Gaiek on the main deck carrying a box that appeared too small to warrant the strength of both gunners. She wondered if it contained their supply of bioprime. Were they nervous about storing such a hazardous material below the waterline during an attack? Had they decided it was safer to drop it overboard? The twins, however, set the box down in the middle of the main deck then hurried out of the rain.
Bill fastened her seatbelt. She felt useless. There was no engine power to perform counter manoeuvres; no weaponry capable of bringing down two military aircraft. She could do nothing except sit and wait and wonder if Papa even knew what was happening.
‘No, you listen to me,’ yelled the cargo. ‘I can save this ship and everyone on board if you’ll just let me make a call.’
‘Here they come again.’ Mel opened the communications channel. ‘All crew brace for impact. All crew brace for impact.’ She then moved to the end of the control panel, wedged her back against a window, gripped an internal railing with both hands and tried to imagine a scenario where her beautiful ship received a direct hit and managed to survive.
