Down to a Sunless Sea by David Graham

Author:David Graham
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Sci-Fi, Thriller
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 1979-01-02T12:00:00+00:00

The thundering went on. I decided I had to do something about it, and went out, climbed on a chair near the servery and held up both hands. Eventually, they became quiet; many sat down.

“It’s all very well,” I said defensively, “but I haven’t even had a cup of coffee yet.”

There was a gale of laughter. Someone bawled, “Give him some champagne!”

“No—seriously.” I looked round at the hundreds of beaming faces. “It makes no sense, going on like that. All right— we brought you here safely; but we were very lucky, and I had a fine crew helping me. So do me a favor: no more of that. Tell me—have we any Russian families here? Russki? Da?”

A stout red-faced woman in a check shirt and jeans waved a hand. “I think so, Captain. I speak a little Russian. Wait…”

She spoke briefly. Little groups of people shyly stood up, women and children, and I nodded slowly, smiled and waved.

Down to a Sunless Sea 117

Gradually, in twos and threes, people began to sit down, resume eating, and I was able to eat a quick breakfast of coffee, toast and canned butter.

Half an hour later, Kate, John Capel and I walked down the airfield. Three big yellow refueling tankers were unloading—one for the Antonov and two for Delta Tango; Ben Price was moving around, supervising the filling of the main tanks and the filling and sealing of layer after layer of big bottle-green plastic containers. A sweating crew of soldiers, hounded on by Sergeant Hockey, shoved and heaved the drums into position, stacked in rows eight deep across the cleared deck of the 797. I saw Ed Burns piloting a jeep around, with Jill Stewart riding second dickey, shifting load after load of packed meals from the USO building to each aircraft.

I asked Kate where all the bread came from.

“Thank the Russian girl—Elena—when you see her, Jonah. We found plenty of flour and packaged yeast. After working on the Antonov, she worked through most of the night with the older women—ours and theirs—baking nonstop. A thousand fresh loaves—and plenty of rolls.”

“Fantastic. You must have been late to bed, Kate,” I said.

“Mm-hmm. About one in the morning,” she admitted. “I didn’t disturb you, Jonah—you need your sleep more than anyone.”

I decided some things were better left undiscussed, and we went over for a closer look at the Antonov. It was a solid workmanlike assembly of light alloy skin, but with perhaps a rougher finish to joints than those I had become accustomed to seeing on British aircraft. The big propjets reminded me strongly of the old Britannia, and each propeller must have been twenty feet in diameter, with broad paddle blades of polished steel.

I climbed up the ladder, looking back at Kate. “Coming up for a look-see?”

“Not just now, Jonah—too much to do. I can see Ben waving like mad. See you later.” She strode away across the expanse of concrete under the dark sky.

Inside the Antonov, I peered around, adjusting to the gloom. A few interior lights were on, down the long rectangular-section hold.

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