Through Silent Skies

Chapter Sixteen

"Skipper; wake up!" Bryan is shaking me awake. I must have dozed off even if I didn't think I did. When the effect of the drugs wore off, nervous exhaustion must have amushed me. I'm not sure the sleep has done me that much good as I still feel bloody awful.

"What's up?"

"It's getting lighter outside."

"All right, let's have a look."

We all spent the night as planned in the shelter of the National Airship Museum. In the end we broke into one of the exhibits, a reconstruction of a full sized semi-detached brick built house from the last century. It dates from the time when the hanger was used for testing houses by the Building Research Executive. Not that we were at all interested by the history, we just wanted somewhere to rest, and maybe get warm - or more realistically, less cold.

We're a sorry bunch; dirtied, bedraggled, wet, though our combined body warmth seems to have stabilised the internal temperature of the dwelling to being only uncomfortably chilly. We crashed out on the bare floor after finding there were no toilet facilities or running water. It would appear I'm not the only one who fell asleep despite, or because of everything we've been through. As I heave my aching body up I notice many unconscious forms lying closely packed together. Carefully I step over some of the bodies as I make my way out.

Outside the house, but still within the hanger, Gloria, Bryan, and I convene a quietly spoken conference. They look as I feel; worn down and scruffy.

"I've had a quick look around." Gloria says quietly still holding a torch from Albatross' emergency kit. "I've found two toilets which still flush and have running water, but who knows for how long? They don't have much paper though"

"At least that's something." I reply. "Did you find any food or power?"

She shakes her head "No."

"We'll have to see what the skyport has; and some of us are going to have to get covered in mud again to strip what there is left from the Albatross."

"I'll take care of that." shrugs Bryan, resignedly. "I'll rope in some of the fitter looking passengers."

"Good man! Once they're awake - which shouldn't be long now - we'll organise a rota for using the toilets, you can lead your party over to the blimp, while Gloria and I scout out the skyport. Some of the passengers can be set to work scouring both these hangers for useful things; I get the feeling we won't be able to count on modern technology for a while, so where better to find what we need than a museum?" They both nod their agreement. "Then once we know what the score is we'll reconvene here."

"I think we'll need to get some sort of heating, hot water, and cooking system organised soon." Says Gloria.

"I agree, but let's hold off going on a cannibalising and burning spree until we have to. We'll know a lot more in the next couple of hours."

"What are your plans if we don't find anyone organised, or supplies?"

"I really don't know." I reply tetchilly. "I've not given it that much thought. I've been dealing with issues as they arise. If there's nothing for us here then I propose we either go our separate ways to search for our families, or those of us who want to can stay here and wait to be rescued if they think there's a chance of that happening, which I doubt. We've got them down and safe back to where they departed from; I don't think we can be expected to do any more than that. Now let's get foraging, shall we?" That silences them. Bryan nods dejectedly. "Yes, we'd better get on with it."

I was last at this museum as a delta mad teenager; and I know well the contents of these giant hangers. I've often meant to bring Janice along for another visit whenever we had the time to do so, but never got around to it. So this place ought to be familiar to me. Instead, as Gloria and I walk wordlessly to the far end of the giant shed en route to the skyport, I'm feeling unnerved. It must be something to do with the space itself; the contradiction of such a large volume being enclosed, but with a sense of unconstrained vastness. Or it could be the gloomy atmosphere - heavy and poignant as that in a empty church - only partially relieved by the weak illumination of the daybreak through the skylights. Or perhaps it is what is missing; not just the life, warmth, and artificial light, but also the holographic projections of the great airships of the past which ought to fill the void above us so realistically, yet are absent. As we pass the physical exhibits - examples of small experimental racing craft, or reconstructions of gondola interiors - I have a sense of overwhelming loss, almost a palpable grief. It strikes me I may well have completed my last ever flight. The melancholic thought fills me with a sense of dread, though I've yet to fully accept what I'll do for a living in the near future is the least of my worries; just keeping body and soul together in the next few weeks will be hard enough.

We exit the hanger and, with a lot of difficulty, find a way into the skyport via the maglev tunnel running through the aerobaffle earthworks. Clambing over the lineside fence we trigger no warnings or alarms; and no robot sentries come to investigate our tresspass. Once inside the skyport, both of us are dumbstruck by what we see. Stupified, we move carefully by torchlight through the darkened, deserted terminal building. Groping our way up to the control tower and operations centre we search for clues, or even a message left behind; but no reasons for its evacuation are to be found. The holo displays and touch pads are lifeless, but there's no sign of any damage; just an ambience of hasty abandonment.

Finding a still operative pair of digital binoculars I scan the horizon, looking for... I'm not sure what. I think I might have spotted some charred bodies amid the blackened framework of the launch cradles, but I can't be sure. I don't look any closer and I'm thankful to be upwind of it all. Already more birds - mostly crows by the look of them - than I have ever seen are gathering on the scaffolding. I can only imagine what has drawn them here. Scanning further along I can just catch sight of a tractor stopped in a far away field. I zoom in just to be certain, but yes, it is an agricultural robot and it has stopped - probably for good. Beyond it lie a cluster of buildings which must be a farm hub, but the chances of finding a real human farmer there are remote. As everything else these days much is - or rather was - left to the judgement of autonomous machines. I'm certain we shall soon learn our folly in doing so.

If this hiatus were to continue - which I know with a dread certainty it will - then even if we make it through the short term, we'll have to keep the farms going, or at least keep the food synthesisers running, or else we shall starve. Almost in sympathy with the thought my stomach rumbles loudly and I feel hunger pangs which must be sated at once. I can't remember how long it was since I last ate properly, but I know its been too long.

"Come on Gloria; let's find something to eat!"