Nathan’s maiden-voyage party was held on an open area at one end of the sun deck, where a big helipad H had been painted. Waiters circulated, doling out glasses of champagne. Lily took one and sipped. She was no fan of champagne, but it was a novelty nowadays to say the least. Something in the fizz, the alcohol, seemed to ease her lingering hangover from the mini-bar gin. From here Lily was able to look back at the ship, at its rising stepped decks and that row of ornate funnels. It was like a mixture of an aging hotel and a half-finished shopping mall. It was hard to believe she was really here, floating away on this thing, and that she was perhaps doomed to spend the months and years of the rest of her life on this ship.
The party was small, restricted to Nathan’s closest companions. So here were Lily and Piers, and his closest aides like Juan Villegas. Villegas wore black today; his partner Amanda had died only yesterday, and he cast a regretful glance at Lily. Her sister could have done a lot worse, Lily thought, not for the first time; Villegas really had cared for Amanda.
Grace Gray stood by Villegas. She wore a trim white dress. She showed no interest in her surroundings. Even when her gaze passed over Lily there was no recognition. Lily felt a stab of anxiety, a premonition of guilt. She had sworn to keep Grace from harm. Was that promise already being violated, just by her having been brought here?
And there was Hammond Lammockson, looking even more uncomfortable. He kept his eyes downcast, his hands bunched in fists. He actually wore a suit, as did his father, and you could see a superficial resemblance between them, but Hammond was stockier, darker. At least he wasn’t cuffed, but two burly-looking AxysCorp guards stood behind him. Lily wondered uneasily what Nathan planned for him today.
Nathan chimed a glass and cleared his throat. “Thanks for coming. Not that you had a choice.” It was one of his characteristically disconcerting sallies aimed at those dependent on him, and there was a nervous murmur in response. “I got to tell you first we’ve had some news, relayed from Denver. We’re not the only ones who have been at war. Jerusalem has gone, drowned. Of course most of it was ruins by now anyway, but yesterday the sea closed over it. So that’s the end of the war of Abraham, and all the wars over Jerusalem I guess, wars going back to the Romans, a war extinguished by the sea as a rising tide puts out a camp fire on a beach.
“That’s the way it’s going to happen now, all over the world. The water level is rising at somewhere over a hundred meters a year. A hundred meters! That’s going to put enormous pressure on human societies. Governments and corporations and cultures will crack and crumble under the strain.
“And that’s why I built this ship,” he said, pacing. “First of all as a refuge. This was always meant to be a place we could live if we ever got kicked out of the Andes. Well, we’ve achieved that so far, haven’t we?
“But I have other objectives. I want to bring hope.” He waved a hand at the deck, the funnels rising above them. “I saw the old Queen Mary as a boy, concreted to her wharf at Long Beach. For all I know she’s still there now, trapped and drowned under the sea. I fell in love with the old girl immediately.”
So that’s it, Lily thought. Nostalgia for a boyhood adventure.
“And that’s why I brought her back now, in this new form. The Queen Mary was the culmination of a shipbuilding tradition in Britain that went back to Brunel and beyond. People were fascinated by her, by her construction, her launch, her feats, the records she set. She was a technological triumph, a moon rocket of her day. And she was beautiful, a marriage of art and engineering, a synthesis we lost somewhere along the way.
“And that’s why I wanted to build a fine ship to sail out of here on, not just some tub, another shabby raft. Every other damn ocean liner has long run out of gas and been turned into a floating refugee center. The Queen Mary represents the pinnacle of her age, the technological civilization that spawned us. Now she’s back, and she’s underway, although I was hoping to wait another year so she could be launched on her centenary, but there you go. And as we sail around the globe I want her to represent hope in the minds of those who see her, an aspiration of civilization presented to all those ratty raft communities on the water and the drowning refugees on the land, hope that beauty like this can be brought back into being someday in the future when this damn flood lets us all go.”
“I’m trying not to laugh,” Lily whispered to Piers.
“You’ve always been skeptical of Nathan’s ambition,” Piers murmured. “Just remember-”
“I’m on his boat. I know, I know.”
And now Nathan came to his final motive for building the boat.
“She’s for my son,” he said, without looking around at Hammond. “For all I know my only surviving relative. The repository of my genes, and my dreams.” Now he turned to Hammond, who glowered back. “I did it all for you, Hammond. It was always for you, you know that. Even when I denied you, or turned from you, or punished you, or spoke to you harshly, it was all for your own good. I spent my life telling you so. You understand that in your heart, don’t you?”
Hammond glowered back.
“But you betrayed me.” Nathan spoke softly. Everybody on deck was so silent now that every word rang out clearly. “You allied with my enemies, that fool Ollantay. You let them into Project City. Your actions resulted in the smashing up of what it took me twenty years to build. But you know what I have to do? I have to forgive you. Kneel before me, son.”
Hammond didn’t move. Lily saw his hands flexing, his big muscles working.
Nathan nodded to his guards. One of them produced a nightstick and whipped the back of Hammond’s legs. He grunted with the pain, and his legs folded up, spilling him into a clumsy kneeling posture. The guards stepped behind him and grabbed his shoulders, holding him down in the kneel.
“Before you all,” Nathan said, “before my closest friends here, you must purge yourself, son. I have to hear you apologize, in public, in full.” He smiled.“If you come back to me, you will have everything. All I own when I die. A princess to carry on my genes-our genes-through her children.” And here he glanced oddly at Grace. A faint alarm bell rang in Lily’s head.
“But I do have my authority to maintain. If you persist in your betrayal you’re no use to me, and it’s the fishes for you, son.” He glanced out to sea. “So what’s it to be? Love or hate? Life or death?”
Hammond tried to look away, but a guard grabbed his chin and tipped his head up. Father and son locked gazes. It was an extraordinary moment, Lily thought, pure primate drama.
Hammond cracked first. “Very well,” he hissed, his jaw clamped by the guard’s grip.
“What was that?” Nathan gestured for the guard to release his mouth.
“Very well. I apologize. I apologize for my betrayal. You win.”
“Yes, I do, don’t I?” Nathan grinned and stood back.
The guards released Hammond. He slumped forward, rubbing the back of his legs.
Nathan turned. “Now that’s done and we’re a family again, we can get on with our cruise. The cruise of a lifetime, ha!..”
Lily felt rather than heard the engines start up, a deep thrumming that came vibrating through the decks. Glancing at the shore, she saw it begin to slide away, as the Ark pushed itself through the water under its own power. The ship’s whistle sounded, a deep bass note like a whale’s bellow. Birds flew up in a cloud from drowning Chosica.
Nathan raised his glass, and a ripple of applause broke out among his friends.
Hammond got slowly to his feet.
75
December 2035
From Kristie Caistor’s scrapbook:
The first scrapbook entry Kristie made during the voyage of Ark Three was on Christmas Day 2035, the first Christmas at sea. Until then she hadn’t been able to bear to touch her handheld, not since the death of Ollantay and her mother on that calamitous day in August.
But Nathan made an effort for Christmas, with a big party for the ship’s children in the restaurant, hundreds of them. And then Kristie gave Manco his own little party in their cabin, with seashell-paper streamers and a toy Inca warrior she had made herself, a doll knitted from the vicuna wool of their old clothes. She let Lily see her great-nephew too. Lily brought sweets. Kristie recorded some of this, for Manco’s sake in the future. It seemed churlish not to.
