Voyage of the Storm by Bart Davis

Author:Bart Davis
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gallery Books

PART THREE

* * *

Storm Rising

22

Sōfu gan

THE MEN STARTED ACROSS THE island at first light. The constant rain made everything slippery and dank. Steam wafted off broad green leaves. They used the mining camp’s machetes to cut a trail. It was hot, laborious work which took a lot out of them, especially the Commodore, but he was anxious to see the Storm, and however many times Mac suggested a rest, he told them to push on.

The rain sizzled on the lava field. The open pit Bernhardsen had almost tumbled into still bubbled with orange magma. They were especially careful during the crossing. Rietti took a cautious lead. MacKenzie and Raskin helped the Commodore. It went without incident, and after the last leg through the rain forest, they reached the mining camp. Raskin was amazed at the bounty. His excitement reached a peak when he saw the array of machines and tools they had to refit the Storm. He wanted to spend time cataloging, but everyone was too anxious to get to the pier.

The sight of the Storm struck the Commodore forcibly.

“Till this moment, I didn’t fully believe it. To see the Storm with my own eyes . . .”

His voice trailed off. The water on his cheeks wasn’t from the rain. He shook his head as if subconsciously negating all the time and travels between then and now.

“Her valves held. And her hull. We built them strong in those days, Admiral.”

“She’s testament to that.”

“May I have some time in her alone?”

“Of course.”

Commodore Rowe’s arms and legs were thinner than fifty years ago, his hair whiter, his walk more hesitant, but he seemed to draw strength from the Storm, a synergy of two old warriors. He climbed to the bridge and his jaw trembled with emotion till he disappeared down the hatch. Mac could visualize him walking slowly through the corridors. His feet had last been on those decks fifty years before. The men were his long-dead comrades. What would he say to them? What would touch him? And would the Storm somehow know her captain had returned after all these years?

Fifteen minutes later he reappeared on the bridge, quiet and somber.

“Permission to come on board, sir.”

“Come along, Admiral. Gentlemen. The Storm extends her welcome.”

* * *

“Put on your miner’s lights,” MacKenzie told the others in the control room. “We’ll go forward and work our way back aft. Commodore, you lead.”

“Very well.”

The hatchways were arched, and every seam was studded with rivets. It was incredibly tight and cramped. Their lights stabbed through the darkness, beams converging when they all looked at the same thing. Dusty human debris was everywhere. Popular novels of the day. Bibles. Backgammon games. Chessmen. Poker dice. Playing cards and cribbage boards. The seamen’s mess was a shambles. The mess table was broken. Cups and dishes were strewn about the floor. Torpedoes were stored here, and two had broken free from their moorings. Underneath was the remains of two men. Their skin and clothing were mummified and fused, just like the man in the control room.

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