Titanic Twelve Tales - A Short Story Anthology RMS Titanic (8 page)

“Status Lieutenant
Sora
?”

“Sir,” replied my science officer rather excitedly, “we’re free!”

“Confirm visual,” I demanded.

“Ocean surface on screen,” she responded.

“What the-” The sight of another vessel rendered me speechless. Its huge hull silhouetted against a bright moonlit sky. Yellow light was streaming from her many portholes and reflecting on the calm ocean. Like us, the gigantic ship was dead in the water. “
Sora
, you reported no intelligent life form in this solar system.”

“My sensors detected no beings,” she replied. “This planet’s atmosphere is lethal and the seas are toxic.”

“To us, but look for yourself.
Maximum magnification.”

The enlarged picture revealed a hive of activity. Small two-legged creatures were running rapidly along the flat surfaces of the vessel. Somehow they were absorbing the planet’s atmospheric gas and emitting it in vapour from their mouths. Some appeared to be communicating with each other, whilst others stood clinging together in groups. Still more of them emerged from inside the ship, swelling the crowds on the upper decks, whilst white vapour rose from three of the ship’s funnels.

“Report verbally,” I ordered.

“L...Living beings,”
Sora
began nervously.
“Unknown species.
Possibly using constituents of the planet’s atmosphere in their life cycle.”

“Sir,” interrupted First Officer
Klar
returning to his station. “Alien vessel is taking on vast quantities of water.”

“Fuel supplies?” suggested
Sora
.

I shook my head in despair. “Even my aged eyes can detect they’re using some primitive form of combustion to propel themselves across the surface of the ocean,” I explained. “They collided with the ice, fortunately freeing us, but holing them.”

“I’ve got a signal,” she offered, “but it’s encoded.”

“Then decipher it.”

“I’m trying to, sir,” she pleaded.
“Short and long bleeps.
Routing to computer, now.”

“Captain,” called
Klar
pointing to the screen. “Look, they’re launching small boats.”

I watched as they struggled to winch the flimsy open-topped craft down the sides of the large vessel, wondering if they had enough boats for all the creatures.

“It’s a distress call,” cried
Sora
, handing me a hastily scribbled note.

I scanned it quickly:
CQD MGY have struck iceberg. We are badly damaged.
“Have any other vessels responded?”

“Some have,” she replied anxiously, “but they don’t believe the ship’s in trouble.”

“Keeping monitoring all communications.
Klar
get on scanners. Find those other ships. We might be able to boost their signals.”

It was all I could do. Maintaining a silent vigil, we watched the huge hull descend deeper into the ocean. I thought of her captain in his crippled ship, like me fighting for survival.

“Several vessels are in the vicinity,”
Klar
announced.

“Are they answering
Sora
?”

“The code is hard to read,” she replied, “one is coming in four hours.”

“They’re firing rockets,” cried
Klar
, “surely they can’t have spotted us?”

“I doubt it,” I answered, “and what if they have? We can’t do anything except watch them die.”

“Captain, you can’t blame yourself for their loss.”

“We’re here, aren’t we?”

“But sir, we weren’t under power when they struck us. We were drifting. We still are.” His tone was charged with accusation.

“I’m fully aware of the status of my own vessel,” I replied.

“No disrespect intended sir, but they collided with us and-”

“Correction,” I snapped, “they rammed an iceberg which had trapped us when we crash landed on this frozen wasteland of a planet. We owe our freedom to that ship and her captain.” Still seething, I turned towards the communications console, “
Sora
, what are they saying?”

“Signal’s growing weaker. I can hardly make it out.
SOS.
We are RMS… Sorry Sir, I can’t decipher the next word. There’s more…Engine room full up to boilers... That’s all. It’s gone.”

“Captain,” cried
Klar
. “Some of the creatures are jumping into the ocean. Can they survive there?”

“I don’t know. Their white jackets seem to keep them afloat.
But the cold?”
Shivering the full length of my backbone, I found I couldn’t watch anymore. Desperate to escape this hostile planet, I called the engine room.

“Engines fully charged but no reserves,” the Chief Engineer said.

“Care to rate our chances?”
I asked.

“Chances?” he laughed. “You’ve only got one. I can give you sufficient power to break free of the planet’s gravitational field. Out of the toxic atmosphere we can recharge our energy cells directly from the system’s heat source.”

“When can we go?”

“On your command.”

I’d been waiting to hear that for over a hundred of the planet’s days. “Crew,” I announced on all channels, “stand by for lift-off.”

Reluctantly my eyes returned to the screen. The ailing ship was listing, her hull tilting. As her stern
rose
high out of the water, a funnel broke away in a cloud of bright sparks. Hundreds of the creatures were clinging to her decks. Many were flinging themselves into the ocean as the mighty ship broke her back. Sickened by the sight of life, however alien, struggling for survival, their hopelessness reminded me of home. One of our other search vessels might have been successful finding a new planet. I had failed.

Most of my generation had been lost trying to discover a new homeland. Pulled out of retirement, I’d been given two inexperienced officers and a crew too young to breed, yet not too immature to sacrifice their lives in the final quest for a new home before our planet died.

How would High Command view my navigational error? I’d risked my ship and the lives of my crew attempting a fast passage across an unknown solar system. Forcing myself to blank all negative thoughts, we had to breakout. “Log all findings in the memory
bank,
issue a Code D signal warning all future expeditions of the oxygen content of this planet’s atmosphere.”

“Aye, aye captain,” my two officers replied in unison.

Belted in the command console, I felt the welcoming vibration as the engines began to stir. In seconds we would break free or die in the attempt. I knew my original course had been dangerous. Saving time and fuel, I’d cut across this little solar system, underestimating the gravitational pull of its third planet.

Bracing myself for the severe pressure of the launch, I had to believe there were other planets left to explore, but in my heart, I knew time was running out for me and my kind.

My opposite number in the sinking ship must have felt the same as his powerful ocean consumed him. I felt grateful for his aid, given so unwittingly, because it might just lead to the survival of my species.

“Sir, the stricken vessel,” announced
Sora
looking rather pleased, “I’ve deciphered that word. It seems to be her name,
Titanic.
”

Third-class souls

A deep groan of twisting metal grinds the length of the hull, it passes almost unnoticed. Eight bells sound. Several people look up from their daily tasks. An Irish mother grasps the hands of two of her children and marches them towards the dining room. “Come on darlings, time to eat.” The two older boys run ahead, taking their allotted places on the bench.

A white-coated steward places bowls of hot stew before the boys. “Nourishing food, eat up lads, ‘twill do you no end of good.”

The mother sits down with her other two children and waves to the steward. “Three more bowls, please.”

Two stokers join the table. “Mrs. O’Brien, would it be asking too much of you to pass the salt?” Harry asks. She smiles back at him as she hands him the crested salt and pepper pot. “Much obliged,” Harry nods.

The oldest O’Brien boy grabs a slice of the newly baked bread from the bowl in the centre of the table. His mother smacks his hand, and he drops the bread on the table. “Ask first Seamus, have you learnt no manners since you’ve been aboard?”

“Sorry Ma,” he withdraws his skinny hand.

She smiles at him, “Best have it now Seamus, no one’s going to want it now you’ve had your hands upon it.”

He retrieves the bread, dips it into his stew and pushes the gravy sodden slice into his mouth. “Can Liam and
me
go to the dance tonight?”

“Dancing?” Mrs. O’Brien laughs. “Why lads you’re far too young!”

“But it’s a special celebration. Everybody’s going, let us Ma, please.”

“Will you be attending Mrs. O’Brien?” the stoker asks.

“Well if everybody’s going, then I might.” She smiles at Harry again and Seamus nudges his brother Liam.

“Maybe this place
ain’t
so bad if only it was warmer,” Liam whispers.

“What do you mean?
You feeling
the cold?” Seamus glares at his younger brother and grasps his mother’s hand. “Ma, Liam feels things. He
ain’t
supposed to, is he Ma? Not here. Not now.”

Mrs. O’Brien’s face drops, she stares across the table at her second eldest son. “Is this true?”

Liam’s lower lip quivers. “I know I
ain’t
supposed to...but I’m feeling cold all the time.”

“Are you sure lad?” Harry asks, “
because
you’d the first of us lot down here that does?”

“I wish I hadn’t said anything.” Liam wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I’m glad you did son. It’s a sign. The sort of thing we’ve all been waiting for. I’ll tell the others. There’s plenty anxious to know if it’s time. We must ask around. There might be others feeling the same.” He stands up and places his hand on Liam’s shoulder.

A loud thud from the upper deck shakes the hull. The hollow sound echoes through the ship’s damaged bulkheads. The hub of conversation in the dining room is silenced.

“What was that?” Seamus whispers.

No one answers. They listen for the next sound, movement or sign. They wait, as they have done for 73 years.

A loud clang breaks the silence. Mrs. O’Brien and several of the other Third-class diners gasp. Harry, the friendly stoker, reaches for her hand. She joins her hands with his and smiles at him. The only signs of affection she has given him during their long incarceration.

Each day is the same, each conversation uses identical words,
everything
they do has been repeated thousands of times, until today. Today everything has changed because Liam can feel.

“That sound,” Seamus says, “I’ve never heard it before. What can it be? What’s happening?”

“I don’t know.” Mrs. O’Brien gathers her two youngest children close.

“Could it be father? Has he found us?” Seamus asks.

“Perhaps,” Mrs. O’Brien looks at the stoker. The man she has smiled at for so long.

He stands up, abandoning his meal. “We’ll find out. Come on Jack.”

Harry and Jack leave the dining room together watched by hundreds of pairs of eyes. All are anxious for the news they can at last disembark.

“Come on Jack, this way. We’ll take the First-class stairs, they’ll not see us if we go that way.”

The men emerge at the top of the forward First-class staircase just in time to see two strange lights pass over the ship’s deck. “In God’s name, what’s that?” Jack cries.

“I
dunno
,
ain’t
like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

They stand together, just as they did in the boiler room on the fatal night. The lights get closer. “Look there’s some sort of cable attached to the creature and it stretches upwards perhaps even to the surface of the great ocean. It can’t be alive, can it? What has eyes that glow like beacons?” Jack grabs his friend’s arm. “We should go back and tell the others.”

“Tell them what, that we saw lights coming from a creature of the deep with an endless tail? Trust your senses
Jack,
this must be a sign, if only we knew what was happening.”

“It’s what we’ve all hoped for all these years. They’re coming for us, aren’t they? They’ve found us.”

“That might be, but we must be sure. How can we tell the others and raise their hopes? They’ll think they’re going home.”

They watch the creature turn and scan the wreckage. Several times the small metal body with the bright illuminated eyes passes alongside the two men.

“It’s close enough to touch,” Jack cries. “Look, all I have to do is reach out my hand.”