Before I left Phoebe to go below deck myself, Norbert contacted me on her radio. “Matthew, please come up to the bridge.”
I took up the mic. “Negative. I’ll be going down to see Simon.”
“It’s best that you come up first.”
Agitated, I gripped the mic tightly near my mouth and spoke quietly into it. “Norbert, it’s not going to look very good if I bring up the leader of the expedition in a compromised state and then don’t tend to him afterwards.”
Norbert was adamant. “I’m afraid I must insist.”
I tossed the mic away in disgust. We had never clashed before, and Norbert, as captain, outranked me. I made my way off deck, up the companionway ladder and on to the bridge, feeling something odd about the air as I went. A stillness that was preternatural, expectant, like a held breath.
Norbert would normally have finished shift by now, but he was deep in conversation with the bridge crew, in low voice, when I entered. By then my irritation had given way to concern and curiosity. “What’s up?”
Norbert fixed his watery gaze on me and said gravely, “We have lost all outside communications.”
This new development made me start. “What? How?”
“That’s just it. We don’t know. Our equipment is working correctly. There is no damage to our dishes or our antennae. But they receive no transmissions. Even the GPS receives no signal.”
“Is there anything that could be jamming that?” I offered, but I was reaching, and I knew it.
The rest of the bridge crew shifted uncomfortably at my comment, showing impatience. Norbert didn’t look away from me. “No. Nothing would affect all our machines at once. This is different. This is not interference. This is not even possible. It is simply as if the World has fallen silent.”
Those last words had a chilling effect on me. I paused, came to a decision. “We should leave, or at least move away until we re-establish radio contacts. We know where we are right now, even without GPS, so we can always come back.”
“Yes, I intend to head back South as soon as possible.”
“Can you hold off until I talk to Simon? He is the client.”
“Judging by what I have seen he does not appear to be in a position to understand what is said to him.”
“I’ll tell Liz, then. As expedition’s second, she would make any decision while Simon is...unavailable. She’ll be perfectly agreeable, she never wanted to leave the Antarctic in the first place.”
Norbert glanced down, considering. After a moment he nodded. “Very well. I will start engines five minutes after you go below deck. But we are leaving, no matter what they say.”
“Yes, yes, I know.”
I turned to leave. “There is something else,” Norbert said.
“Yes?”
“It is perhaps a small thing. The cloud cover is low, even, and very deep. Our radar shows no gaps as far up or around as we can detect. Also it does not appear to be moving.”
I nodded, remembering the sky as we had surfaced in Phoebe, and recalled the odd atmosphere as I had made my way up to the bridge. “There’s no wind right now.”
“And no current. The sea is as still as the air.”
I said I’d be back shortly and headed below decks, to the berths.
I found Simon and Liz with Jonathan, who acted as ship’s doctor. Simon was lying on his bunk, Liz on a chair beside him, and Jonathan standing over him. “How is he?” I asked.
Jonathan looked up, but Liz did not. Jonathan spoke gently to Liz. “Can I leave you for a moment?” She nodded.
Jonathan straightened up and, taking my shoulder, led me out into the gangway. He kept his voice hushed. “This is a bit beyond me. I’m a physician. I fix wounds, I tend to sore muscles, maybe a broken bone or a sting or a bite. At worst, decomp illness. This is..,” he gestured vaguely towards the berth, “..psychological.”
“Give me the basics, then.”
“Well, his heartbeat is light and elevated, his breathing rapid and shallow, he is shaking, unco-ordinated. All of which are reactions to shock, to trauma. But there is something else.”
“Yes?”
“He is losing responsiveness. His reactions to stimuli are muted. He is no longer responding when addressed, he does not look at or focus on us, and seems to be descending into a stupor.”
I covered my mouth with my hand. This was very bad. Bad because my friend was losing his sanity, bad because we were going to have to abandon the expedition, bad for our company, all bad.
I let Jonathan go and joined Liz in the berth.
“Liz.”
She looked up, and I could see that she’d been crying. Perhaps there was something more than a professional relationship between her and Simon, or perhaps she was deeply affected by seeing a work colleague in that state. I never got to find out. “Matthew. Hello.”
“I’m so sorry.”
She managed a weak smile and shook her head a little. “Don’t be. This is none of your fault.” She looked back down at Simon, who was lying stock still with closed eyes, but still with breath that was a little faster than normal, and shallower. “He was always a stubborn, ambitious fool.” She whispered, “Oh Simon...”
“Have you known him long?”
She sniffed. “Coming up to ten years. Our first expedition was to the Lembeh Strait, studying the effects of the local port on the macro ecology.”
I didn’t want to hear their story, whatever it was. Perhaps Sarah’s death had left me colder, perhaps I didn’t want to listen to anyone dwelling on memories. I took the opportunity to tell her our plans. “Liz, we’ve decided to leave the site.”
She was perturbed at my interruption but quickly agreed. “Of course, it’s-”
And then she gasped as Simon’s hand shot out and grasped her elbow. We looked at him. His eyes were open, he was focusing on Liz, and shaking his head furiously, his eyes pleading.
Then we heard and felt the engines start up. Simon sat bolt upright and screamed. He wasn’t looking at us any more, he thrashed arms and legs, tried to buck out of the bunk, raved wordlessly, hysterically. Liz and I joined in trying to hold him down, as he fought us like a trapped animal. I heard approaching footsteps and Jonathan entered the berth. “What happened?”
“Get over here, help me hold him!”
“I can get a sedative.”
At that Simon screamed even louder and thrashed with even greater frenzy. An arm escaped my grip and his free hand, without intent or control, slapped my face. I cried out in pain, but Simon’s screams were louder. I regained my composure and looked at him. Blood was escaping his mouth, his head shaking was flinging droplets about. He had bitten his tongue.
“No! Just take my place!”
I pulled back and Jonathan reached in to help. I ran from the berth to a communications station in the gangway. I connected to the bridge. “Norbert. Cut the engines. Now!”
“Matthew, we-”
“I know what we said! Simon is in hysterics! He’ll hurt himself if we go under way!”
“I-”
“Just - fucking - do it!” I shouted, swearing at a member of the crew for the first and only time.
Perhaps it was the swearing, perhaps it was because I was the guy who had lost his wife – Norbert had a wife and two daughters – whichever. Norbert did not reply but I heard the engines die. “Thank you,” I said, a bit guiltily, and went back to the berth. Simon had stopped thrashing, had lain back down, and was starting to breathe slower.
We stayed with him through the night, as he slipped by slow degrees back into stupor, and then before dawn into complete unresponsiveness. Jonathan left at one stage and returned with a needle. By then sedation seemed superfluous, but we needed to get going and I didn’t want to rouse Simon, so I assented. I left Liz and Jonathan with Simon, as, exhausted, I headed back out.
I took up the mic. “Negative. I’ll be going down to see Simon.”
“It’s best that you come up first.”
Agitated, I gripped the mic tightly near my mouth and spoke quietly into it. “Norbert, it’s not going to look very good if I bring up the leader of the expedition in a compromised state and then don’t tend to him afterwards.”
Norbert was adamant. “I’m afraid I must insist.”
I tossed the mic away in disgust. We had never clashed before, and Norbert, as captain, outranked me. I made my way off deck, up the companionway ladder and on to the bridge, feeling something odd about the air as I went. A stillness that was preternatural, expectant, like a held breath.
Norbert would normally have finished shift by now, but he was deep in conversation with the bridge crew, in low voice, when I entered. By then my irritation had given way to concern and curiosity. “What’s up?”
Norbert fixed his watery gaze on me and said gravely, “We have lost all outside communications.”
This new development made me start. “What? How?”
“That’s just it. We don’t know. Our equipment is working correctly. There is no damage to our dishes or our antennae. But they receive no transmissions. Even the GPS receives no signal.”
“Is there anything that could be jamming that?” I offered, but I was reaching, and I knew it.
The rest of the bridge crew shifted uncomfortably at my comment, showing impatience. Norbert didn’t look away from me. “No. Nothing would affect all our machines at once. This is different. This is not interference. This is not even possible. It is simply as if the World has fallen silent.”
Those last words had a chilling effect on me. I paused, came to a decision. “We should leave, or at least move away until we re-establish radio contacts. We know where we are right now, even without GPS, so we can always come back.”
“Yes, I intend to head back South as soon as possible.”
“Can you hold off until I talk to Simon? He is the client.”
“Judging by what I have seen he does not appear to be in a position to understand what is said to him.”
“I’ll tell Liz, then. As expedition’s second, she would make any decision while Simon is...unavailable. She’ll be perfectly agreeable, she never wanted to leave the Antarctic in the first place.”
Norbert glanced down, considering. After a moment he nodded. “Very well. I will start engines five minutes after you go below deck. But we are leaving, no matter what they say.”
“Yes, yes, I know.”
I turned to leave. “There is something else,” Norbert said.
“Yes?”
“It is perhaps a small thing. The cloud cover is low, even, and very deep. Our radar shows no gaps as far up or around as we can detect. Also it does not appear to be moving.”
I nodded, remembering the sky as we had surfaced in Phoebe, and recalled the odd atmosphere as I had made my way up to the bridge. “There’s no wind right now.”
“And no current. The sea is as still as the air.”
I said I’d be back shortly and headed below decks, to the berths.
I found Simon and Liz with Jonathan, who acted as ship’s doctor. Simon was lying on his bunk, Liz on a chair beside him, and Jonathan standing over him. “How is he?” I asked.
Jonathan looked up, but Liz did not. Jonathan spoke gently to Liz. “Can I leave you for a moment?” She nodded.
Jonathan straightened up and, taking my shoulder, led me out into the gangway. He kept his voice hushed. “This is a bit beyond me. I’m a physician. I fix wounds, I tend to sore muscles, maybe a broken bone or a sting or a bite. At worst, decomp illness. This is..,” he gestured vaguely towards the berth, “..psychological.”
“Give me the basics, then.”
“Well, his heartbeat is light and elevated, his breathing rapid and shallow, he is shaking, unco-ordinated. All of which are reactions to shock, to trauma. But there is something else.”
“Yes?”
“He is losing responsiveness. His reactions to stimuli are muted. He is no longer responding when addressed, he does not look at or focus on us, and seems to be descending into a stupor.”
I covered my mouth with my hand. This was very bad. Bad because my friend was losing his sanity, bad because we were going to have to abandon the expedition, bad for our company, all bad.
I let Jonathan go and joined Liz in the berth.
“Liz.”
She looked up, and I could see that she’d been crying. Perhaps there was something more than a professional relationship between her and Simon, or perhaps she was deeply affected by seeing a work colleague in that state. I never got to find out. “Matthew. Hello.”
“I’m so sorry.”
She managed a weak smile and shook her head a little. “Don’t be. This is none of your fault.” She looked back down at Simon, who was lying stock still with closed eyes, but still with breath that was a little faster than normal, and shallower. “He was always a stubborn, ambitious fool.” She whispered, “Oh Simon...”
“Have you known him long?”
She sniffed. “Coming up to ten years. Our first expedition was to the Lembeh Strait, studying the effects of the local port on the macro ecology.”
I didn’t want to hear their story, whatever it was. Perhaps Sarah’s death had left me colder, perhaps I didn’t want to listen to anyone dwelling on memories. I took the opportunity to tell her our plans. “Liz, we’ve decided to leave the site.”
She was perturbed at my interruption but quickly agreed. “Of course, it’s-”
And then she gasped as Simon’s hand shot out and grasped her elbow. We looked at him. His eyes were open, he was focusing on Liz, and shaking his head furiously, his eyes pleading.
Then we heard and felt the engines start up. Simon sat bolt upright and screamed. He wasn’t looking at us any more, he thrashed arms and legs, tried to buck out of the bunk, raved wordlessly, hysterically. Liz and I joined in trying to hold him down, as he fought us like a trapped animal. I heard approaching footsteps and Jonathan entered the berth. “What happened?”
“Get over here, help me hold him!”
“I can get a sedative.”
At that Simon screamed even louder and thrashed with even greater frenzy. An arm escaped my grip and his free hand, without intent or control, slapped my face. I cried out in pain, but Simon’s screams were louder. I regained my composure and looked at him. Blood was escaping his mouth, his head shaking was flinging droplets about. He had bitten his tongue.
“No! Just take my place!”
I pulled back and Jonathan reached in to help. I ran from the berth to a communications station in the gangway. I connected to the bridge. “Norbert. Cut the engines. Now!”
“Matthew, we-”
“I know what we said! Simon is in hysterics! He’ll hurt himself if we go under way!”
“I-”
“Just - fucking - do it!” I shouted, swearing at a member of the crew for the first and only time.
Perhaps it was the swearing, perhaps it was because I was the guy who had lost his wife – Norbert had a wife and two daughters – whichever. Norbert did not reply but I heard the engines die. “Thank you,” I said, a bit guiltily, and went back to the berth. Simon had stopped thrashing, had lain back down, and was starting to breathe slower.
We stayed with him through the night, as he slipped by slow degrees back into stupor, and then before dawn into complete unresponsiveness. Jonathan left at one stage and returned with a needle. By then sedation seemed superfluous, but we needed to get going and I didn’t want to rouse Simon, so I assented. I left Liz and Jonathan with Simon, as, exhausted, I headed back out.
Comments
Post a Comment