“These measures I know will not be easy, but I hope you all understand that they are necessary. They apply to everyone aboard, crew and passengers alike. It goes without saying that all normal services on board are suspended. All crew members are relieved of their regular duties. We are, to all intents and purposes, in a kind of hibernation. I recommend everyone tries to get some rest. Those who are injured and have not yet been treated should attend the medical centre, which has now been relocated to the gym. If your injuries are not serious, please do give consideration to others who may need attention more urgently than yourself.”

Jake felt he was beginning to ramble. He knew he needed to wrap it up.

“I know you may have many questions and concerns, and we will address these as best we can in due course. For now, I ask for your patience as we adapt to our enforced circumstances. Urgent problems can be addressed to uniformed senior crew members, who will do their best to help. Thank you.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. He knew that the announcement was lacking in authority and conviction, not to mention structure and coherence, but he was just happy to have got it over with. The questions would come, of that he had no doubt. For now though, he wanted to take his own advice and get some more rest. He settled down in the captain’s chair, closed his eyes, and was asleep within seconds.

• • • • •

He was awoken by the sound of Lucya working on her maps behind him. Checking his watch he saw, to his horror, that he had been asleep for more than four hours.

“Hey sleepy!” Lucya called over.

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You needed the rest.”

“We all need rest.”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I got my head down for a few hours too. I’ve only just come back.”

Jake got to his feed, stretched, yawned, and took a look outside. The sky head cleared even more, there was even a hint of sunshine. Looking at the flat calm water, at the mass of ice in the distance, once again starting to shine in the light like the dawn of a new day, it seemed impossible to believe what had happened only hours earlier. The serenity of the scene gave him hope. If this place, this inhospitable arctic desert, could look so placid and beautiful after the onslaught it had suffered, then there was a real chance that other parts of the world had survived too. He desperately wanted to give the order to fire up the main engines, to pull up the anchor and to sail south to look for survivors, for civilisation, for land. But he knew that was impossible. He had one throw of the dice, and the lives of everyone on the ship depended on getting it right.

He wandered over to the map table to find Lucya deep in concentration. There were two huge nautical charts laid out, as well as a long plastic rule, coloured pencils, and a circular slide rule.

“Having trouble?” he asked.

“It’s been a while since I did these kind of calculations by hand. Don’t laugh, and don’t say I told you so. I’ll get it, I just need to refresh my memory.”

“I have total confidence in you. Listen, I think I’m going to head out and try and get around the ship a bit, see how the others are getting on. There are nearly a thousand crew members I haven’t spoken to apart from over the PA. I should at least try and talk to more of the department heads, let them know what’s occurring.”

“A few people have already asked me why you’re acting captain, they want to know what’s happened to Ibsen and Hollen.”

“What have you said?” Jake felt a pang of concern.

“I said you’d brief everyone in due course,” Lucya pulled a face, like a naughty child expecting to be told off. “I was right though, wasn’t I? That’s what you’re going to be doing now, as you go round the ship?”

“Yeah, yeah you were right. But what do I say? How do I tell people Ibsen killed Hollen and I killed Ibsen?”

“You don’t. You simply say that they both died following the ash cloud. Hundreds died, nobody is going to question it.”

“But Hollen spoke to the ship after the ash cloud had passed, so that won’t work. I suppose,” he stared into the middle distance, his mind turning over possibilities, “if I just say that he didn’t survive his injuries following the ash cloud, then technically that’s the truth.”

“Right, and if people assume that his injuries were caused by the ash, that’s not really your fault, is it?” Lucya smiled.

“I’ll see you back here in a few hours for the senior officers meeting,” Jake said.

“You sound like a captain already.”

Nineteen

HIS FIRST PORT of call was the kitchen. He wanted to catch up with Claude Dupont, the head chef. There was one huge kitchen, on deck seven. It serviced the three restaurants and four cafes on board, as well as the crew canteen, and provided snacks for the bars. Normally the place was a hive of activity, with Claude shrieking out orders to the hoards of cooks who scurried about. It was a very different scene today though. No columns of steam rising from hotplates, no bubbling pots, or clanging pans or hissing griddles. Claude was seated at a stainless steel bench. Behind him a couple of people wearing white and blue cooks uniforms were busy loading food into a giant freezer.

“Hi Claude,” Jake smiled jovially.

The chef looked up at him with a sour expression. He was a tiny man, bespectacled and slightly balding. Jake had always thought he looked more like he belonged in a magic shop, or a very niche second hand book store, not a kitchen. Despite his diminutive stature, he was a formidable character. He had a reputation for whacking errant cooks on the back of the legs with a ladle, although to be fair nobody could attest to ever having seen this happen. Nobody wanted to find out if it was true though, so when Claude told anyone to do anything, they would eagerly cry “Yes chef!” without question, no matter how odd or unreasonable the order.

“Well well, a visit from the captain himself. Sorry, the acting captain,” Claude corrected himself, loading the words with sarcasm. “I did not think I was worthy.”

“How are you getting on with the inventory?”

Claude ignored the question entirely. “I hear there is a new club, a group of elite staff who meet on the bridge. A bridge club you might say,” he laughed at his own joke, but it was a hollow, false laugh. “Mr Noah and his band of cronies, planning out the future, creating their empire while the rest of us wait for our orders to be handed down from on high.”

“Claude, if you are upset at not being at our meeting, then I can only apologise. Our immediate priority was to stabilise the ship. Now our concern is the wellbeing of everyone on board. If there are any elite staff, then you are certainly one of them. Feeding three thousand people with limited resources and power is a challenge unlike any other, and I honestly cannot think of anyone better qualified to take it on than you.”

“You are laying on the compliment a bit thick Monsieur Noah. I am not stupid, do you think I am stupid?”

“Far from it, and I mean what I say. In fact, now that emergency repairs are underway, you are the first person I have come to see. I came straight from the bridge to find out how you were progressing, and to ask you to join us at the next bridge meeting in,” Jake looked at his watch, “just over two hours. If you cannot make it then I will understand.”

“No, no you are right. It is true that without sustenance, without nourriture, all your efforts will be in vain. I will come to your meeting, and I will report my progress to you at that time.”

“Great, that’s good. Well, I will see you later on the bridge then.”