Read Online Sedulity 2: Aftershock (Sedulity Saga) by David Forsyth - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Forsyth
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survivors too. The rest were probably swept
overboard and can be presumed lost at sea.”
“What’s being done with the bodies?” the captain asked.
“The crew have been covering them with sheets and tarps,
mostly,” Crawford replied. “I’m told that the worst concentrations of bodies are
down by the muster stations.” He didn’t notice the captain wince at that
statement, and continued, “They’ve started to move bodies out of the main corridors
so the passengers won’t see them when they leave the theater eventually.”
“Good idea,” the captain nodded. “We’ll have to think about
conducting burials at sea soon. We don’t have enough refrigerated space to
store that many bodies, and we can’t run the risk of disease if we let them
decompose.” He paused to consider the problem, then said, “Have the crew move
as many bodies as possible to rooms on the Promenade Deck, near the muster
stations. Screen off portions of the public areas, if necessary. That way the
bodies will be close to exits onto the boat decks when we get a chance to
conduct burials.”
“Aye-aye, Sir,” Mr. Crawford said, making a note on the
casualty report.
“What’s the updated damage report? Especially for guest
accommodations? I can’t keep all the passengers cooped up in the theater
forever.”
Mr. Crawford picked up a much larger stack of paper and read
a summary. “Eighty-five percent of the
balcony staterooms and suites have been severely damaged by fire and flooding.
Most of the surviving 15% of Veranda Suites and staterooms are clustered over
the fantail at the stern, as well as several forward on this deck, such as
yours and mine, which were sheltered by the bridge wings. The Chief Steward
reports that only a few of the damaged balcony staterooms can be made livable.
The rest are gutted.
“The good news in that 90% of the inside staterooms received
little or no damage. The same is true of outside cabins with portholes on the
lower decks. Only of a handful of the portholes were broken and even in those
cabins the damage was far less severe than in the balcony rooms. Unfortunately,
as you know, Sir, more than seventy-five percent of the Sedulity’s total passenger accommodations have balconies. So the
net result is that we’ve lost about two thirds of the guest rooms and berths.”
“And we’ve only lost a third of the passengers,” the captain said,
without meaning to sound callous. “We might need to double up the occupancy in
the remaining staterooms, or even set up a hot-bunk system.” Hot-bunking was a
common practice on naval vessels, especially old submarines. It meant that when
one crewman woke up to go on duty, another member of the crew would get into
the same bed, often while it was still warm from the previous occupant. Such a
system would not go over well with passengers on a cruise ship, but the captain
needed to consider all options. “How about damage to crew’s quarters?”
“More than half of the crew cabins were at least partially
flooded, but didn’t suffer any fire or blast damage down there. We should be
able to make most of them habitable, if we can dry out the bedding, or cover
the mattresses with plastic. Dr. Segal has also taken over several dozen of the
crew cabins near the medical center to accommodate patients and says he needs
more space.”
“Alright, have the Quartermaster consolidate berths for
surviving crew into cabins with minor flooding damage. Give the doctor as many
of the undamaged ones as he needs. Whatever crew cabins are left over can be
assigned to passengers. In the meantime we can disable the key cards for all
staterooms deemed uninhabitable.”
“Yes, Sir,” Crawford remarked, scribbling notes on the damage
report. “Anything else, Sir?”
“A million things,” Captain Krystos replied with a sad smile.
“What’s the status of the ship’s kitchen and main dining room?”
“Engineering has restored power to the main galley. The Head
Chef
overboard and can be presumed lost at sea.”
“What’s being done with the bodies?” the captain asked.
“The crew have been covering them with sheets and tarps,
mostly,” Crawford replied. “I’m told that the worst concentrations of bodies are
down by the muster stations.” He didn’t notice the captain wince at that
statement, and continued, “They’ve started to move bodies out of the main corridors
so the passengers won’t see them when they leave the theater eventually.”
“Good idea,” the captain nodded. “We’ll have to think about
conducting burials at sea soon. We don’t have enough refrigerated space to
store that many bodies, and we can’t run the risk of disease if we let them
decompose.” He paused to consider the problem, then said, “Have the crew move
as many bodies as possible to rooms on the Promenade Deck, near the muster
stations. Screen off portions of the public areas, if necessary. That way the
bodies will be close to exits onto the boat decks when we get a chance to
conduct burials.”
“Aye-aye, Sir,” Mr. Crawford said, making a note on the
casualty report.
“What’s the updated damage report? Especially for guest
accommodations? I can’t keep all the passengers cooped up in the theater
forever.”
Mr. Crawford picked up a much larger stack of paper and read
a summary. “Eighty-five percent of the
balcony staterooms and suites have been severely damaged by fire and flooding.
Most of the surviving 15% of Veranda Suites and staterooms are clustered over
the fantail at the stern, as well as several forward on this deck, such as
yours and mine, which were sheltered by the bridge wings. The Chief Steward
reports that only a few of the damaged balcony staterooms can be made livable.
The rest are gutted.
“The good news in that 90% of the inside staterooms received
little or no damage. The same is true of outside cabins with portholes on the
lower decks. Only of a handful of the portholes were broken and even in those
cabins the damage was far less severe than in the balcony rooms. Unfortunately,
as you know, Sir, more than seventy-five percent of the Sedulity’s total passenger accommodations have balconies. So the
net result is that we’ve lost about two thirds of the guest rooms and berths.”
“And we’ve only lost a third of the passengers,” the captain said,
without meaning to sound callous. “We might need to double up the occupancy in
the remaining staterooms, or even set up a hot-bunk system.” Hot-bunking was a
common practice on naval vessels, especially old submarines. It meant that when
one crewman woke up to go on duty, another member of the crew would get into
the same bed, often while it was still warm from the previous occupant. Such a
system would not go over well with passengers on a cruise ship, but the captain
needed to consider all options. “How about damage to crew’s quarters?”
“More than half of the crew cabins were at least partially
flooded, but didn’t suffer any fire or blast damage down there. We should be
able to make most of them habitable, if we can dry out the bedding, or cover
the mattresses with plastic. Dr. Segal has also taken over several dozen of the
crew cabins near the medical center to accommodate patients and says he needs
more space.”
“Alright, have the Quartermaster consolidate berths for
surviving crew into cabins with minor flooding damage. Give the doctor as many
of the undamaged ones as he needs. Whatever crew cabins are left over can be
assigned to passengers. In the meantime we can disable the key cards for all
staterooms deemed uninhabitable.”
“Yes, Sir,” Crawford remarked, scribbling notes on the damage
report. “Anything else, Sir?”
“A million things,” Captain Krystos replied with a sad smile.
“What’s the status of the ship’s kitchen and main dining room?”
“Engineering has restored power to the main galley. The Head
Chef
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