Melisande Mason - 2042 - The Great Cataclysm

Inside Bunyip they heard the faint taps muffled by the seven-inch thickness of the hull.

‘That definitely was not rocks!’ Nick exclaimed.

They cheered, and Jeremy sparked to attention. ‘Holy mother…’

‘Shhush!’ Nick padded his hand palm down in the air. ‘Sam will know to use the hydrostat so they’ll be able to hear us, but we can’t hear him. Sam! Can you hear me? Get the diver to tap twice to acknowledge. Over.’ Nick strained to listen. ‘Sam, get the diver to tap twice. Loud. Over.’

Two soft taps sounded. ‘Okay. This’s going to be bloody difficult. How deep are we buried? Tap the number of metres.’ They counted off one, two. Nick’s heart dropped. Two metres of rock on top of them! His mind raced to compute the amount of time he felt it would take to remove the rocks.

‘Wolf says if the divers clear an area of rocks…’ he turned to Wolf. ‘How big?’

‘Six feet square should do it.’

‘…six feet square, Sam. Then we can get a signal for the Satcom. Relay and confirm with four taps. Over.’

Smiles and backslapping accompanied the four taps. Nick knew they were safe and it was just a matter of time.

They had five to six days of oxygen supply, plenty of water from the desalination system and emergency rations on board. They could hold out. It would be very uncomfortable and most of all for Jeremy. A broken arm under these conditions was agonising, he needed medical attention and soon. Nick admonished himself for not having something stronger for pain relief and vowed to add it to the medical kit.

Conversation had become stagnant, so Wolf began a lecture on Paleomagnetism – the study of the record of earths magnetic field in rocks, most of which went straight over Beau’s head, but intrigued Nick and Jeremy and helped to keep their minds off the passing of time. Beau patiently filled out a crossword puzzle Jeremy had printed off the computer, every now and then enquiring about an obscure question. After three hours he tried the radio. ‘Come in Sam. Can you hear me? Sam! Over…’

Silence! He dropped the microphone and flung himself on the seat beside Nick and began chewing his fingernails.

Nick removed the rubber tie from his hair, leaned forward and shook his hair loose. He grabbed some paper and started making small tight balls that he flicked across the sphere with the rubber tie. Wolf and Beau hurled them back and a full scale paper war started. Jeremy managed a smile, enjoying their antics, and occasionally when one came his way he hurled it back.

The rubber tie snapped and with it the frivolity. Nick suggested they have a competition to see who could grow the longest beard declaring Wolf out of the race as he already sported a fiery red one. He managed to raise some enthusiasm among the others for five minutes!

Beau began checking his instruments again and they waited for a signal from the divers. Continuous loud bangs and deep rumbling noises deafened them, as rocks were laboriously dragged from the hull. Testing the radio every half hour gave Beau a focus and enabled him to keep his spirits up. Jeremy plunked away at Solitaire on his computer while Nick and Wolf discussed the seismic influences and their possible outcome.

Emergency rations lost their appeal, and half eaten energy bars and paper cups filled the waste box. Nick fuelled by nervous tension, crammed his one-eighty-five centimetre frame into the small toilet compartment more times that he needed, emerging each time with hair dripping water.

At five PM on the second day the radio crackled back to Beau. ‘Yo. Beau. D’you hear me? Over.’

‘Aahhh. Music from heaven Sam. Never thought I’d be so happy to hear your voice. Over.’

Nick grabbed the microphone. ‘Nick here Sam. Are the divers patched in? Over.’

Joe’s gravel voice joined the conversation. ‘Hey Nick, hope you guys are cozy in there. It’s like working in shit out here. Seems you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Um, from what we can gather you must’ve been passing under a ledge when a tremor shook it loose. We’ve managed to clear away a patch of rocks about eight square feet, probably that much again to go. At least we can now recognise which end of Bunyip we’re at. What’s your main problem Nick? Over.’

‘I’m worried about the emergency batteries. We’ve shut everything off bar the life support system. It’s like sitting in a fridge here. Over.’

‘Sit tight. There’s three of us here. We’ll get you out soon. Out.’

‘Thanks Joe. Standing by. Out.’

Beau and Wolf hollered and slapped palms and Jeremy straightened from his slouch with a wide grin. Nick reached for the instant coffee jar. ‘Not that muck again!’ Beau joked. ‘Haven’t we got any champagne?’

Nick laughed. ‘You wish!’

Beau picked up a half eaten muesli bar and held it in the air. ‘Anyone for caviar?’

‘I could even go a game of Euchre.’ Nick said. ‘But Wolf’s wrecked the cards.’

Wolf pulled at his jaw. ‘Ya. Don’t know what got into me.’

‘So fellas. Think we can all get some sleep now?’ Nick lifted his watch. ‘Tomorrow’s only hours away.’

On day three the men awoke to Joe’s gravel voice filling the sphere, and there was a tap on one of the fisheyes. They looked to see an ugly set of pincers waving from outside. The divers had finally opened the lid of their tomb!

‘Morning boys! Time to shake loose the cobwebs. You’re free as a bird. Bad news is the housing’s been crushed agains the prop. We’re trying to lever it off. This’s one tough baby! Can’t see any major damage apart from some paint scraped off. Over.’

Sam butted in. ‘Joe, I’m sendin’ down the power lever. Over.’

‘That’ll do the trick,’ Joe said. ‘We’ll have you out of there in no time Nick. Over.’

Nick felt the adrenalin rise and his heart pumped faster. In the seven years he had spent in the Bunyip he had never been under such a threat, and now he knew what it was like to face death. He felt a slap on his shoulder and Wolf’s grinning face laughed into his. ‘My friend. I thought we we’d had it this time.’

‘No way! I knew they’d rescue us.’ Nick laughed. ‘Sam wouldn’t dare lose us.’

Finally, an hour later a diver appeared at a fisheye and made winding up signals to indicate the propeller was free.

Beau hovered his finger over the starter button. ‘Here goes! Start you bastard.’ He exclaimed, punching buttons furiously. The motor turned over and whirred with a low pitched growl under the excessive demand on it’s power. For a moment she felt like a cork about to pop. They could feel the strain as Bunyip battled to pull free of the last restraints around her. A rapid jerk hurled them around the sphere again. Thens she rose smoothly and gently from her grave to begin her climb to freedom.

That evening Nick broke out the rum and the ship celebrated their rescue. The Bunyip had suffered only minor damage by the rocks that had lodged in the propeller. The engineer assured him a new propeller housing could be made and apart from the cosmetic damage to the hull, she would be one hundred percent perfect again.

Nick decided the following day was to be a rest day while they worked on the Bunyip, and he received no argument from Beau and Wolf, but a heated one from Jeremy when he told him he would be ship-bound for the rest of the trip.

‘We were lucky mate.’ Nick said. ‘That tremor could be the first of many. What if we strike more. Bigger? You won’t be in any state to help.’

‘It’s only a broken arm! It won’t stop me from doing my job. Doc’s fixed me up, it’s an inconvenience not a bloody handicap! You need me down there.’

‘If this trip wasn’t so important I’d send you back home for R and R.’