Leviathan Rising Part 9

"Because otherwise we're going to drown."

"My pa.s.senger and crew life-support and welfare sub-routines have already calculated that at least ninety-nine per cent of all pa.s.sengers and crew are already dead."

"Yes, but there are at least sixteen of us that are still alive, and who would like to keep it that way!" Ulysses riled. "Now, as I understand it, there are no operable lifeboats accessible from this location."

"That is correct, sir."

"But there must be another way off the ship?"

"Oh yes, sir."

"Really?" Ulysses said, surprised despite himself. "Captain, did you ask if there was another way off the ship?" he asked, turning to the equally surprised McCormack.

"Well, I asked as to the number and viability of the lifeboats, yes."

"So 'no' then. Neptune, do tell us more."

"Mr Carcharodon's private submersible vehicle the Ahab and its sister craft the Nemo, sir."

"I see. And where would they be located?"

"Within the sub-dock, sir, on Deck 15."

"You might as well wait here to drown," McCormack said, directing his comment at Ulysses, "if you're planning on taking one of those things out of here."

Ulysses turned on him. "Why? Why shouldn't we?"

"Those things are private runabouts, they're not designed for these depths. Like as not they won't survive for long out there, down here. They won't take the hydrostatic pressure."

"Really?" Ulysses was unable to hide his disappointment.

"Not a hope."

"But they don't have to last for long," Ulysses said, the old child-like excitement returning, "at these pressures I mean. We load up the subs, take them out and head up. Straight up, back to the surface."

"And what about whatever it was that attacked us?" McCormack pointed out. "Chances are it's still out there. Look what it's done to the Neptune. A couple of small-scale submersibles won't have a hope."

"Gla.s.s is always half-empty with you, isn't it?"

"I'm just being realistic."

"Yes, you are, d.a.m.n you. We really are caught between the Devil and the deep blue sea, aren't we?"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you."

"Take the subs to the surface and we may well meet whatever it is that's out there waiting for us. Stay here, the ship fills with water and all we've got to look forward to is a burial at sea in Davy Jones' Locker."

Ulysses thought for a moment.

"If there was just somewhere we could hole up until the rescue teams could get to us, anywhere but here," he mused.

"I have located such an environment," the Neptune AI announced calmly.

"What?" Ulysses and McCormack both exclaimed together.

"My sensor arrays have located an undersea facility two hundred yards away at the edge of the oceanic trench. No life signs, although life-support systems are still operable."

"I don't b.l.o.o.d.y believe it!" Captain McCormack swore.

"I told you there was a way!" Ulysses declared proudly. "Neptune, is the sub-dock accessible from this location, without having to pa.s.s through any flooded sections of the ship, I mean."

The AI was quiet for a few seconds as its cogitator relays processed the information it was still receiving from its many and varied sensor detection devices positioned around the ship. "Yes. It is possible to reach the sub-dock without pa.s.sing through any flooded sections of the superstructure."

"Then that's how we'll do it!" Ulysses declared, flashing the astonished captain a manic grin. "We're getting off this ship!"

CHAPTER TEN.

Full Fathom Five "Ladies and gentlemen, honoured guests," called the purser over the anxious hubbub that had taken hold of the dining room, "pray silence for the captain."

One by one, the a.s.sembled anxious VIPs turned to see Captain McCormack standing at the door to the dining room, with Ulysses Quicksilver at his shoulder. An expectant hush descended over the gathering, every one of those present desperate to hear how the captain was going to get them out of this waking nightmare.

McCormack opened his mouth, as if he was about to speak, when Jonah Carcharodon leapt in with an angry: "Well, man? Spit it out! How are you going to get us out of this mess?"

The captain cast his eyes down at the trident-patterned carpet at his feet and took a deep breath. Standing at his shoulder, Ulysses willed him to speak, although held off from saying anything for the moment.

"Ladies and gentlemen," McCormack began, "Mr Quicksilver and I have re-a.s.sessed the situation and we believe that we have found a way off this ship."

Gasps of surprise came from around the dining table. "About b.l.o.o.d.y time," Major Horsley muttered, none too subtly.

"In consultation with the Neptune AI we have devised a way through to the sub-dock on Deck 15 at the bottom of the ship. For the time being it would seem that the sub-dock is still secure and no wetter than it should be. As a result, it is expected that at least one, if not both, the submersible vehicles secured there will still be operable."

"What and then take them out into the open ocean where G.o.d's knows what is waiting for us?" the twitching Dr Ogilvy suddenly exclaimed.

"It's suicide," Professor Crichton said darkly.

"Quite possibly, professor," McCormack agreed, "which is why we're not going to the surface."

"What?" Now it was John Schafer's turn to question the captain's plan.

"The Neptune's sensor arrays have detected an undersea base nearby. We're going there."

"How wonderful!" Constance Pennyroyal suddenly exclaimed, blinking tears from her almond eyes. "Salvation!"

"Well, we hope so, Miss Pennyroyal."

"What do mean, captain?"

"Well, it has an intact, breathable environment and we should be able to wait it out there until the Great White Shipping Line's rescue crews can get to us."

"What is this place you're planning on taking us to, Captain McCormack?" Thor Haugland asked, exhaling cigarette smoke from his nose.

"As I say, it's an undersea base, partially intact. Beyond that I can't tell you any more at this stage."

"What?" Dexter Sylvester said, running a hand through his oily black hair. "You mean, you're not taking us to any recognised facility?"

McCormack paused before answering. "It's not one that appears within any of the Neptune's data files."

"So we're leaving the ship in some old tub to go to a semi-intact underwater facility that you've never even heard of and, I take it, that probably isn't even manned at this time?"

"You could put it that way."

Sylvester looked appalled in the face of the captain's frank honesty but was patently flummoxed as to how to respond.

"And you're suggesting we take the Ahab, McCormack?" Carcharodon said.

"Yes, sir."

"Captain," Carcharodon went on, "as I understand it, the Ahab - never mind the Nemo - isn't designed to operate at these sorts of depths for prolonged periods."

"It's not far. They should be good for a short journey."

The anxious muttering of the VIPs resumed.

"You don't sound very certain about this plan of yours," Lady Denning said, speaking up over the crowd.

At her words, all fell silent again, needling stares fixing the poor beleaguered captain and several now eyeing Ulysses with some measure of suspicion.

"Lady Denning, the only thing I am certain of at the moment is that if we stay here we will die - all of us. The Neptune is flooding, the Bridge, we have to a.s.sume, is compromised, and before long the only place the Neptune will be going is down to the bottom of the Marianas Trench, and there isn't a hope of us being rescued before then and I can't even be sure whether anyone knows we're lost out here yet."

"So, how do you plan on getting us to the sub-dock?" Carcharodon asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"Mr Quicksilver and I have devised a way, with the a.s.sistance of the AI," McCormack explained. "The quickest route is still going to prove a little challenging but if we keep our heads I see no reason why we shouldn't reach the dock in plenty of time."

Captain McCormack looked around the room, taking in all of the anxious guests and his steeled crew members, and when he next spoke, something of his old, familiar calm authority had returned. "So, this is the plan. My crew and I are going to lead you from here to the Grand Atrium. According to Neptune, the elevators are still working so from there we're going to travel down to Deck 15 and make our way through to the sub-dock. Once there we'll board the submersibles, exit through the pressure gate beneath the Neptune and make the short journey to the underwater facility.

"Are there any questions?"

There were probably as many as there were anxious pairs of eyes looking back at him, but for the time being no one chose to voice them. They just wanted to get out of this mess as quickly, and as safely, as possible.

"Mr Quicksilver, is there anything you would like to add?"

Ulysses took a moment to observe each one of the frightened faces arrayed before him. They returned his gaze, some more intensely than others, and none more so than Miss Birkin who now looked as white as the starched linen tablecloth.

"Just to keep your heads, and, if you do, I can see no reason why we shouldn't all get out of this alive and, to top it all, with quite some tales to tell all our grandchildren in years to come."

He directed these last words at the nervous couple of John and Constance, and even managed a broad grin for them. They returned fragile smiles of their own, hands locked together in a white-knuckled embrace.

"Chances are we're going to see some rather unpleasant things, pa.s.sengers less fortunate than ourselves" - someone harrumphed at this, at Ulysses' suggestion that they were fortunate, he supposed - "and it's likely we may encounter power shorts, flooding and possibly fires as well. But, like I say, if everyone keeps calm and doesn't do anything rash, we'll get you through this."

"Now then, ladies and gentlemen." McCormack spoke with commanding confidence now, "my staff will lead the way, so if you would like to follow them, we will make our way to the Grand Atrium."

The VIP party left the safe haven of the dining room, a sorry raggle-taggle group, shuffling forlornly after Captain McCormack, the purser and the other officer whom the captain addressed as Mr Wates. Miss Celeste still insisted on being responsible for her employer, stubbornly pushing his wheelchair along the corridors towards the atrium. Schafer, Constance and Miss Birkin had formed their own little group, their mutual support centred around the precious flower that was the young Miss Pennyroyal, who had certainly never experienced anything like this before in her life. But then which of them had, Ulysses wondered, apart from himself and Nimrod, of course? For them this, their latest adventure, was merely one more in a long line of hair's-breadth escapes and dramatic getaways. Perhaps that was what gave him the optimism that they could all get out of this with their skins intact, despite the shock of what had happened to Glenda, that had numbed him to the core.

But as well as the already unpredictable nature of their situation there were still two other variables that they couldn't plan for. Firstly there was whatever it was that was out there, waiting for them in the chill abyssal depths, that had been bold enough, and capable enough, to attack the Neptune and get the better of it. Secondly there was the matter of the murderer who had so viciously taken Glenda's life. With no evidence to the contrary, there was always the possibility that the killer was with them even now, one of the party of sixteen making its way from the room, searching for a way off the stricken ship.

As they left, Ulysses took another look at the dark and desolate view of the seabed that lay beyond the steel and gla.s.s viewing bubble.

"Thought you saw something, sir?" Nimrod asked, pausing beside him.

"No," Ulysses mused, sucking in his bottom lip, "no, not this time."

"But it's still out there, isn't it?"

"Whatever it was that attacked the Neptune? Oh yes, I rather think it is."

"Now what?" demanded Professor Crichton, taking another swig from the hip flask clenched in his jittery hands.

Holding onto an ornate pillar for support, Ulysses Quicksilver peered out over the precipitous edge of the balcony into the void of the Grand Atrium. In the fitful flickering light of the remaining chandelier he watched the seething waters below, brows knitted in consternation.

Along with the Promenade Deck and the Vaudeville Theatre, the Grand Atrium of the Neptune had been one of the architectural and design highlights of the new super sub-liner. It divided the ship neatly in half from the top down to Deck 10, ten storeys of open s.p.a.ce, the two halves of the ship connected at various points via dramatic, gla.s.s-bottomed, suspended walkways, so that the atrium could be just as easily crossed on any level as at the bottom where one could marvel at the wonderfully engineered fountains, their splashing waters turned to glittering diamonds by the light of the vast chandeliers suspended from the gla.s.s and steel dome of its roof. They filled the gallery with magnificent cut-gla.s.s light, each one of them looking like a glittering star plucked from the velvet cloth of heaven itself to be suspended here.

Two of these huge chandeliers now lay shattered and broken amidst the wreckage of the atrium still five decks below, licked by fires burning on top of the oily waters. The remaining chandelier sparked and swung from its loosened mountings, adding epileptic lightning flashes to the ruddy glow of the emergency lights in this part of the ship. By the fitful illumination Ulysses could make out broken bodies bobbing about facedown amongst the wreckage, moved constantly by the seawater filling the bottom of the gallery.

The atrium had obviously come off more badly in the attack than some parts of the ship. There was no way of knowing whether the hull breach had been caused by one of the falling chandeliers - although Ulysses doubted it - or whether water coming into the ship elsewhere through the ruptured superstructure had found its way to this place. Perhaps it was overspill from the condemned Steerage decks.

The presence of the water also made Ulysses consider the state of the lower levels where the sub-dock was housed. It was possible that the bulkheads that divided up the interior s.p.a.ce of the Neptune could keep flooded areas separate, and their way through may still be accessible, but it made him realise how pressing their mission was.

Opposite them, across the divide, stood the showy elevator doors of the Grand Atrium. The walkway they should have been able to cross to reach the lifts was gone, the only evidence of it ever having been there, a twisted steel beam. What was left of the footbridge lay crushed beneath one of the fallen chandeliers.

"How are we going to get across now?" Constance Pennyroyal asked nervously.

"We could double back, take the stairs to another level where we can cross safely," Dexter Sylvester suggested.

"No can do," Ulysses said, before any of Captain McCormack's men could speak. "Didn't you feel the heat as we went past? No, that way is out as fire's already taken hold down there. We cross here or we don't cross at all."

"But how?" Lady Denning said, her tone more angry than fearful.

Ulysses peered down at the churning, burning waters again and rea.s.sessed the distances involved in crossing the atrium.

"I have an idea," he said.