Life Goes On by Tayell, Frank (large ebook reader txt) 📗

“The world’s spinning fast, these days,” Tess said.

“You said you’re going to Mozambique? I don’t know if the runway is still open. It’s been a day since a plane arrived from there. We re-directed it to Canberra.”

“Yes, it arrived. Do you know if there are ships in Mozambique?”

“Three, I think,” O’Bryan said. “An African Union regiment is guarding the port. After the refugees were evacuated, we were told the priority was the northern Indian Ocean.”

“Told by whom?” Tess asked.

The wing commander just threw up her hands. “Look, we’re doing all we can. There are eight million people here now. Eight! That’s nearly six million refugees. The governor— sorry, I mean the mayor. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? A local council led by a mayor. So the governor of Western Australia is now a mayor, but it’s not magically reduced our overcrowding. We’re already running a rescue of all shipping that lost power after those bombs, and then you tell us you need an evacuation of the Andaman Islands, so we send our planes north. Now you want to go west.”

“Everything needs to be done yesterday, doesn’t it?” Tess said.

“G’day!” Anna said, as the colonel wheeled her over, Mick a step behind. “Deputy Prime Minister Anna Dodson.”

“We weren’t expecting you,” the wing commander said, adding only a moment too late “ma’am.”

“No worries. I’d like to meet some people,” Anna said. “Enough people that word will spread that I’m here. Then I’d like you to show me the problems, and tell me what you’d like me to do to fix them. But I also need to get Commissioner Qwong on her way to Africa.”

“Of course, ma’am,” O’Bryan said, switching to military formality. “You’ll need to speak to the governor, I mean the mayor. I’ll take you there now. But there are no planes here that can reach Africa. The passenger planes have gone north, except those we sent east. We’re stretched to breaking just rescuing the passengers from the stranded shipping.”

“Of course,” Anna said. “I’ll need to visit the docks, and the shipyard. But the commissioner does need to get to Africa.”

O’Bryan pointed at the USAF Gulfstream. “Your plane has the range.”

“They require military support as well,” Anna said. “Where are the U.S. Rangers?”

“By now? In Port Blair,” O’Bryan said. “Refugees arrived from across the Andaman Islands, and from across the coastal regions of the Indian Ocean. Port Blair is in danger of being overrun. Too many infected. Troops were requested, and those Rangers were already stood next to a plane. Over three hundred thousand civilians, ma’am. Broome won’t be able to cope. We’ll have to bring the refugees south, unless you can relocate them elsewhere.”

“We’ll find them a home,” Anna said. “And I think we can relieve some of the pressure on you here. Now, how will you help the commissioner get to Africa?”

“You want a hundred soldiers?” the wing commander asked, looking to the high walls under construction beyond the runway. “I can get them here in an hour. But a plane will take longer.”

“You’ve got a C-17 over there,” Mick said.

“It doesn’t have the range to reach Africa, when carrying a full complement of troops,” O’Bryan said.

“But it could refuel in Diego Garcia,” Mick said.

“Diego Garcia is underwater,” O’Bryan said.

“There’s been a tsunami?” Anna asked. “Here?”

“Not here,” O’Bryan said. “Localised flooding was reported among the islands to the west. We’ve had reports of mushroom clouds at sea. Twelve, so far, spread throughout the ocean, but nothing to indicate as severe an attack as in the Pacific. Our information is incomplete, but we’re not wrong about that island runway.”

“What about Mauritius?” Mick asked.

“Similarly unusable,” O’Bryan said. “The runways in Madagascar have been overrun. Inhambane is the only operational runway we know of.”

“We’ll take the Gulfstream,” Hawker said.

“What of the soldiers?” Anna asked.

“A cohesive unit of Army Rangers afford a number of tactical options,” Hawker said. “Conscripts are an entirely different proposition. Sailors will suffice for a shore-party. The ships will have a limited quantity of supplies, so better we don’t put a strain on them. I would ask if Major Brook can join us. He’s a force multiplier all on his own.”

“Do you mean Clyde?” Tess asked.

“According to the blokes who brought that refugee plane to Canberra, there’s fuel in Inhambane,” Mick said. “Were they right?”

“Frustratingly, there is an abundance in Mozambique,” O’Bryan said, unbending now it appeared none of her own people or resources would be requisitioned. “Supplies were sent to Inhambane to aid in the evacuation of Madagascar, but the island fell before the supplies were used.”

“But you said a regiment is guarding the port, and three warships are still anchored offshore,” Tess said.

“For all the good they’ll do there,” O’Bryan said.

“Oh, they will do us some good, indeed,” Tess said.

“Refuel my plane, and we’ll be out of here in an hour,” Mick said.

“No, Dad. You’re not flying to Africa,” Anna said.

“There’s no one better qualified,” Mick said. “Unless you fancy a trip west, Wing Commander?”

“I have plenty of commercial pilots here in Perth,” O’Bryan said. “Many from Africa.”

“But by the time we find one who’s flown a Gulfstream, and who’s flown to Inhambane, another day will have gone by,” Mick said. “I’m here now. There’s a job to be done, Anna, for which I’m best qualified. Our own interests have to be put aside.”

“You can fly to Africa, but no further. That’s an order,” Anna said. “Tess, you better take your team with you.”

“You still need a bodyguard,” Tess said.

“I’ve got Dan and Sophia,” Anna said, “and I have the wing commander and her air force. I want your team to make sure my father returns.” Another fighter took off. “Where are those