“Well get a bloody move on will you. We’ve been stuck in this cabin four bloody hours. Just as this ship starts to go somewhere, we’re stuck in here.”

“Give it a rest Ken,” a woman’s voice called from inside. “The poor girl has probably had just as long an afternoon.”

Larissa walked into the cabin. It was one of the larger ones, a full suite. She was standing in the sitting room. Opposite her was a huge balcony with a spectacular view of the ocean. There was a plush sofa and two arm chairs arranged around a low mahogany coffee table. Larissa had polished that table on many occasions, it seemed strange for her to be here in another capacity.

“Do sit down dear, and I apologise for my husband. It’s not as if he can’t appreciate the view from here.”

“Thank you. This won’t take long, there are only a few questions.”

The three of them sat down, Ken taking the sofa. Larissa opened the thick file she had been carrying and split the papers inside into two piles. One pile, slightly dog-eared and untidy, went back into the folder. The other pile comprised blank sheets. She peeled off the top two sheets and handed one each to the couple. From the shoulder bag she produced two black ballpoint pens which she set down on the table.

“I need you to fill in your full names, dates of birth, nationality, country of residence, and occupation, all in the boxes as shown. Underneath, please fill in any skills you may have, and anything else you think might be useful to the community if,” even after repeating the instructions countless times throughout the afternoon, she still found herself hesitating at this point, “if this community is all that survives of mankind and we have to start over.”

“Don’t you worry dear, we’re on the move again, look!” The woman pointed to the balcony and the ocean beyond. “The captain says we’re going to find a safe harbour.”

“Oh Tracy, you know as well as I do that’s just lip service. We’re heading for land alright, and when we get there we’re going to see what everyone knows full well; that the bloody asteroid has destroyed everything.”

Tracy blinked away tears. “I don’t believe it Ken. I won’t believe it.”

“Um, if you could just fill out the forms?” Larissa was growing impatient. She had seen this same scene played out in countless cabins. In nearly every family or couple she had visited, most were in denial. Most couldn’t accept the fact the world had ended, that this was all that was left. The ‘community’ question promoted the same argument, time after time. She just wanted this to be over.

For a few minutes the only sounds were the scratching of pens on paper, and the sound of water crashing against the side of the ship, clearly audible through the open balcony door.

“Well, I don’t think I have anything to offer in the way of skills,” Ken was sitting back sucking on the end of his pen.

“You’re pretty good at painting and decorating,” Tracy said.

“That’s hardly a skill, is it? Anyone can do a bit of painting and decorating. I think they’re looking more for carpenters, stone masons, people who can build a town.”

“Actually, painting and decorating would be great. If you’ve done any of that, please, write it down.” Larissa wanted to scream out to put anything down, just hurry up and finish.

Ken scrawled a few words, considered what he had written, and handed back the page.

“What are you writing? You haven’t got that many skills!” Ken snorted at his wife.

“I have many hidden talents Kenneth. Mind you, not as many as you. Like being able to pay for a luxury suite on a cruise liner on a teacher’s salary.”

“Yes, well, we’re not here to talk about that.”

“Sorry, teacher?” Larissa’s ears pricked up. “Could you list the subjects you teach? That would be very useful.” She handed back the paper and pen.

Ken sighed heavily, and started writing once more. Tracy handed her page to Larissa, who scanned through it quickly, then folded over the bottom and tore it off carefully. She rifled through the folder and extracted a page on which were written a long list of numbers. One of the numbers corresponded to that on the slip of paper she had torn off. Against it, she wrote “Tracy Frampton”.

“This is your meal ration voucher,” she handed the paper back to Tracy. “You’ve been assigned to the Nautilus restaurant for your meals, second sitting. You’ll need to present the voucher at each service. Please don’t lose it, no voucher means no meal.”

“My mum used to tell me stories about rationing during the war,” Tracy looked wistful. “I never thought I’d experience it first hand.”

Ken finished his list and handed back his page. Larissa repeated the same exercise, returning his voucher to him.

“Second sitting, pah!” He didn’t look impressed. “So we get the leftovers. Probably cold ones at that.”

“Everyone gets the same rations Mr Frampton, there’s no preferential treatment for the first sitting I can assure you.” Larissa got to her feet. “Thank you for your time. If you could remain in your cabin until an announcement is made, it will make our job much easier.”

“So we don’t have to stay? We’re free to leave?” Ken jumped to his feet.

“I can’t force you to stay here, but it really will make things go a lot quicker if you do.”

Larissa went to let herself our. At the door she took one last look at the plush suite. A thought ran through her head. If they were all doomed to live on this ship because the planet was scorched, why should people like Ken get to live in such luxury? He’d paid for a cruise, for sure. But what gave him the right to stay here in this room in another weeks time, when the cruise was supposed to have finished? And another week after that? And after that? What right did anyone have to any particular accommodation any more, if they were now a ‘community’ of survivors?

Thirty-Two

“THIS IS THE captain. I would like to personally thank everyone on board for their cooperation during the census this afternoon. The survey has been completed, and you are free to leave your cabins. Dinner service first sitting will be beginning shortly. Thank you.”

Jake replaced the handset and walked over to Lucya’s station. She was deep in discussion with Dave, both intensively studying a chart.

“How long until we see land?” Jake asked.

Lucya looked up. “I think we should already be able to see something. Dave thinks I’m wrong.”

“If you’re not wrong, then why can’t we see anything?”

“Because I think we’re in the wrong place.”

Jake looked confused. Lucya put her hand on his back and steered him round the table to better see the map.

“Look, I think we should be here. In which case, we should be able to see that,” she pointed at the land mass. “But we can’t. So we’re not where we should be.”

“Not where we should be if we go by out original calculations,” Dave interjected. “But my point is that those calculations are no longer valid. Which means we can’t base our position on them. So we are where we should be, we just don’t know where we should be!”

“Right now I’m utterly confused,” Jake said scratching his head. “What’s wrong with the calculations?”

“May I?” Dave looked questioningly at Lucya.

She shrugged her shoulders. “Sure, why not? It’s your theory, you explain it.”

“When Lucya calculated the route, she took into account the currents. Standard practice, they either carry the boat along or they push against us slowing us up.”

“Yes, thank you for the navigation one-oh-one David. Even I remember that much!” Jake looked put out.

“Sorry, of course. But I think the currents have changed. I don’t know how, but it seems like the asteroid changed something. Maybe the heat, or the quantity of ash falling on the ocean, I’m not a scientist, I’m really out of my depth here. But I’m sure the currents changed, and if I’m right then our calculations are void. We’re either not as far along on our course as we think, which would explain why we can’t see a big chunk of land anywhere on the horizon, or…”