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

“I can think of a few more things to add to that list,” Nicko said.

“Trade you an oat-bar for your bottle, Zach,” I said.

“No way,” he said. “This has got to be worth at least ten.”

“I don’t have ten,” I said.

“Okay, five,” he said.

“I don’t have five, either,” I said. “I was testing the value of food versus a soft drink now our daily cals have been cut.”

“I’ll swap you one-to-one,” Nicko said.

“I don’t even have one,” I said. “I handed my stash of emergency oat-bars into the purser. But it sounds like the value of food hasn’t inflated to contraband-pricing yet.”

“Give it a few hours,” Nicko said, optimistically scraping his spoon across the empty bowl. “I’m starting to be envious of Elaina, trapped on that island with five thousand kids.”

“We’ve still got catered meals, laundries, and showers,” I said. “I could get used to this.”

“In my experience, days like this are climbing up to a fall,” Clyde said.

“Nah, I’m with Nicko,” Zach said. “If I was on the island, I’d be setting homework, not having to do it!”

“You’d still have to mark it,” Clyde said.

“What have the Canadians got you on now, mate?” Nicko asked.

“I’m guessing population boom and decline,” Zach said. “It’s supposed to be a prediction, but how is that not the same as a guess?”

“So you’re just guessing the answer?” I asked.

Zach shrugged. “Kinda.”

“Doc Flo thinks people are going to have a population boom?” Nicko asked.

“Not people,” Zach said. “Animals. Especially fish. They’ll boom because no one is fishing them, and then decline because of the radiation.”

“So you’re counting how many you can see in the water?” Nicko said.

“Reading,” he said. “I’m just reading.”

“I thought you liked reading,” I said.

“I like reading books, but these papers have more numbers than words. That doesn’t count as reading.”

A tray clattered to the floor on the other side of the mess. Even as I turned to look, one sailor swung at another, missed, and hit Lieutenant Kane in the face. Even as I stood, Mr Mackay jumped in. My heart sank, but the petty officer pushed the sailors apart.

“It’s fine,” Clyde said, sitting down. “Sit down, Zach. It’s all over.”

“Has there been much fighting?” I asked.

“Tensions are rising,” Clyde said.

“Because of the food?”

“Because we’re so far from home,” Clyde said.

30th March

Chapter 31 - A Joke of a Ship

Holidays never last forever. Today, mine came to an end. I was losing at cards to Clyde when I was summoned to the bridge. Judging by the sun, it was about an hour shy of midday. The ship had begun to slow.

“A vessel is ahead,” Captain Adams said. “Adrift. Travelling across our path. We believe it’s the Southern Star, or it was before they renamed her.”

“The ship that was too long?” I asked.

“You know of her?” Adams asked.

“She’s a crime,” I said. “And she’s the punch-line of a lot of jokes in the outback. Canberra passed a law stating no factory-fishing ships longer than a hundred and thirty metres would be allowed in our waters. So that one was built to be a hundred and twenty-nine. But when our people went aboard, they recorded a length of one hundred and thirty point one, and so they sent her packing. The debate in my branch of the bush comes down to which bunch of fisher-folk were lying about the length.”

“I crossed paths with her in my previous command,” the captain said. “We escorted her out of Micronesian waters. Twice. Diesel engines, single propeller, capable of fourteen knots. About four thousand cubic metres of storage, if I recall correctly. Built to turn fish into fillets, freeze those, and turn the rest of the animal into fishmeal.”

“How many people can four thousand cubic metres feed?” I asked.

“You said there are eight million in Perth? I hope they like fish,” Adams said.

“We’re going to salvage the ship?” I asked.

“We’ll investigate,” the captain said. “That vessel is afloat, and adrift, with no obvious sign of damage from weapon or storm. It would absolutely be a boon to our people. There could be fuel aboard. If not, if the engines are operable, we could transfer fuel and a crew and sail her to shore. We’re about five hundred kilometres due west of Brazil. That ship could be left at anchor while we search for a diesel-depot. The fuel we transfer does represent a majority of our own reserve, but we would still have our helicopter for a north-south coastal survey. Four thousand cubic metres? On balance, yes, it’s worth investigating.”

“Movement!” Lieutenant Kane said, pointing at the footage being relayed from the mast-cam. “Captain, it’s a person.”

“It’s a zombie,” I said, while on the screen, a figure staggered along the ship’s stern-rail.

This was a job for my team. Not the scientists, and not for Zach. Just Bruce, Clyde, Nicko, and me, with Commander Tusitala and Mr Dickenson to inspect the engine room, and Glenn Mackay to crew our boat.

No vests this time. They offer limited protection against zoms, while adding weight. We had the MARS-L assault rifles, with their short barrels and just as short stocks, and the assortment of personal weapons we’d picked up along the way. Clyde offered me one of his new boarding axes, but I’d want to practice before I start impersonating a samurai.

The second warning came as we approached the ship.

“Two more zoms spotted on deck,” Mackay said.

“I’m lead,” Hawker said. “Nicko, on me. Keep the ladder clear.”

He climbed, and I held on to our boat’s rail. We had a line attached to the factory ship, but that only added a counter-directional tug to our wave-topping back and forth surge. The fishing ship was nearly twenty metres longer than the frigate, and