CV

43

There was a blinking red light on the console. Ferguson said to Bliss, “We have a door signal from Lifeboat Fifty-three.”

“Another malfunction?”

“Probably.”

“Send a person down to check it out.”

A few minutes later Ferguson exclaimed, “Now we’ve got a launch signal from the same boat!” He pressed buttons rapidly. “No status signal,” he said after a moment. “I think it’s really launched, although how that could happen—”

Nothing but rain and spray was visible in the windows or the television screens. “See if you can pick up anything on radar.”

“Too much chop,” said Ferguson. “There could be a dozen lifeboats out there and we’d never see them.”

Without waiting for orders, Stuart was speaking into her microphone. “Sea Venture calling Lifeboat Fifty-three, do you read? Come in, Lifeboat.” After a while she turned and shook her head.

Bliss stood where he was, trying to look as if he were thinking. Good God, what was he going to do? What would Nelson have done? If the lifeboat had actually been launched, either it was a malfunction, meaning there was nobody aboard, or someone had managed to launch it deliberately. In that case there was a small but measurable possibility that the passenger was carrying the parasite.

What next? There was no drill for Sea Venture to retrieve a lifeboat; the designers had assumed that if the boats were launched, it meant that Sea Venture was foundering. The only thing he could do was to launch a second lifeboat, but that meant doubling the chance that the parasite would get away. It would be a dicey thing for anyone to get from one lifeboat into another in this weather; if the first boat turned out to be empty, he might have drowned a man for nothing.

Stuart said, “Chief, Quinn reporting from Lifeboat Bay Fifty-three. The boat’s gone.”

“Get me the hospital annex.”

“Annex, Fenwick,” said a woman’s voice.

“This is Chief Bliss. Have you had a new epidemic patient in the last half hour?”

“No, sir.”

“Call me the moment you do.”

An hour went by before Stuart said, “Call for you, Chief. It’s Fenwick at the hospital annex.”

Bliss thumbed over the phone. “Yes, Ms. Fenwick?”

“Chief, you asked me to call you as soon as we had another epidemic patient. One just came in. Her name is Gearhart.”

“No mistake about the symptoms?”

“No, sir.” Her voice sounded offended.

“Thank you.” Bliss turned to Stuart. “Send this on the emergency channel. ‘Lifeboat accidentally launched from Sea Venture at’—give the position and time. ‘May have passengers aboard.’ Keep sending that until you get a reply.”

“Yes, sir.”

Newland awoke, dizzy and in pain. At first he did not know where he was or how he had got there. He was sitting in his wheelchair, wearing nothing but pajamas, and he was cold, and being rocked back and forth, and there was a throbbing pain at the side of his head: when he put his hand there, he could feel a huge, tender swelling.

Then he saw the yellow ceiling and the blue seats, and he thought, I’m in a lifeboat. But he did not know why. Hal had been hurt, that was it—the thought came back with a pain sharper than the one in his head. And he had called John Stevens. And that was all; the rest was gone. Had something happened to Sea Venture? Then why was he in a lifeboat by himself?

He drove his chair up to the console and looked out at the gray sea. The boat was rocking in the waves, throwing him from side to side with each motion. Newland managed to lever his body out of the wheelchair and into the pilot’s seat; the effort left him weak and dizzy.

When he turned the wheel, the blunt nose of the lifeboat came around into the waves. Now the rocking motion was from bow to stem, and the gray water slapped up over the portholes. He peered through the flying spray, hoping to catch sight of Sea Venture, but saw nothing. He continued turning the wheel until he had made a circle. The gray ocean was empty.

It occurred to him to look at the clock. It was ten after twelve. It had been about seven in the morning, he remembered, when he had called John. So he could not have been in the boat more than five hours. How far could he have drifted in that time?

He found the radio controls, switched on the receiver and tuned it up and down the band. Nothing but static. Which were the emergency channels? He could not remember. He turned on the transmitter and said, “Mayday, Mayday. This is Paul Newland in a lifeboat from Sea Venture. I don’t know where I am. I left Sea Venture about seven-thirty this morning. Please help me. Mayday, Mayday.”

The boat rocked and plunged as it crossed the waves. Newland strapped himself in. His legs were hurting him very much.