We Float Upon a Painted Sea
Closer

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The back of the truck was cramped. Two speedboats, boxes of food rations and military hardware accounted for most of the interior room. All extra space was filled by six Elves, only two of whom Professor Burke recognised as Inwë and Lúthien. They sat on aluminium boxes, their bodies rocking in time with the action of the vehicle as it made its way over the Queensferry Crossing and into the Kingdom of Fife. The Professor sat cross-legged on a rolled up blanket. He was also deep in thought. Later Itaridlë relinquished her seat in the front cabin to join him at his side. She said,

“I hope the ride isn’t too bumpy for you Professor? The back roads to the Highlands aren’t the best but we have a better chance avoiding MoDs detection and the views are more spectacular. Not that you’ll see much sitting back here. You can sit up front for a while if you like?”

“I’m fine. I don’t want to run the risk of being spotted by one of the surveillance satellites,” replied the Professor.” Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ Find_Nøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“The satellites are temporarily down at the moment.” Inwë turned his head and said,

“The Prophylaxis Trident spy satellite has infra-red capabilities but its image enhancers can’t penetrate the fog so we normally wait...” Without warning, Lúthien came to life and interrupted,

“I don’t think Professor Burke needs to know any more.” She looked directly into the Professor’s eyes and then turned away with a look of disgust. Professor Burke felt a strange prickling sensation in his head and then a shiver ran down his spine. He contemplated the temperament of the company he was keeping. Itaridlë put a hand on the Professor’s arm and said,

“Don’t mind Lúthien, she’s just a bit uptight about strangers in our company and always gets touchy before a mission, right Lúthien?” Inwë interjected but all the while staring at Lúthien,

“We’ve had enough problems with MoDs filters infiltrating our group – some of us even fell in love with them, moved in together and had children with them before finding out who they actually were.” Itaridlë put a firm hand on Inwë’s shoulder and continued,

“However, Lúthien is correct in stating that Professor Burke doesn’t need to know any more details concerning our activities. It will be safer for the Elves and himself, just in case anything goes wrong.” She stabbed a piercing stare towards Inwë who seemed to shrink before her. The Professor said,

“I wish you would reconsider your position and help me prevent a human and ecological disaster unfolding. I thought you were ecommandos and you wanted to protect the planet?”

“We have a chance to catch the Government red handed. It’s too good an opportunity to miss.”

“I don’t think I quite follow you Itaridlë. I thought we were going to stop this madness together. I thought we had a mutual arrangement.” Itaridlë adjusted the Professor’s spectacles like a concerned mother sending her child off to school. She said,

“Believe me Professor, where we are going is no place for an academic such as yourself. Things are going to turn nasty and you don’t want to be around when it does. This is a stealth mission and as far I can tell from Lúthien’s and Inwë’s account of your performance back at the brew shack in Leith, discretion is not your best mantra.” The Professor’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He offered an explanation, blaming his antics on the poitín. Itaridlë cut him off.

“By all means, go to the St Kilda and do what you have to do, but I can’t see what you are planning to achieve by just turning up at the control site.” The Professor said,

“There is someone who might be able to help me.”

“Names Professor? We need to establish a level of trust and we can’t help without a name.”

“As I said back at your base, I can’t divulge certain information. It would put him in grave danger.”

“So your mole is a male.”

“He’s not a mole, just a concerned human being. I can say no more.”

“Alas Professor Burke, without definite proof inside help is available and willing to assist we must make our own arrangements. What about the virus? If you could provide us with the code?”

“I can’t. I’m sorry. I will find someway of getting to the control site on my own.”

“Now might be a good time to tell you. We’ve just had word the control site has been moved to an offshore oil exploration rig. I believe it was originally a naval corvette. I can give you the grid coordinates. This might be valuable intel for you.”

“If all you want to do is collect vital evidence, then why all the military hardware? Why not camera equipment instead of assault weapons and explosives? What are you hoping to achieve by meeting violence with violence?” The Professor wiped away the perspiration collecting on his forehead. Itaridlë smiled and said,

“I can’t provide you with any details of our mission, but what I can tell you is we are not acting alone. There is a means to an end if that is what you are implying. There are others operating out there who share our knowledge and have the responsibility of gathering the evidence. It is our job to make sure they are in a position to gather evidence, if you see what I mean? Our job is to protect them. We all have our parts to play Professor Burke. We do not wish for anyone to get hurt but at the same time we are prepared to defend ourselves. If, on the other hand, you gave us the name of your contact, we could conduct our operation differently. There needn’t be any conflict.” The Professor bit his bottom lip and said,

“I can’t divulge his name. I’m sorry but unfortunately once we get to Ullapool we must go our separate ways Itaridlë. I hope you achieve what you set out to do but more than that, I hope no-one gets hurt in the process.” Itaridlë put a hand on the Professor’s shoulder. The other Elves looked on. She returned their gazes and said in a deliberate manner,

“Over the next few days all will become clear. I can truly understand why you are trying to undo a wrong which you have been caught up in, but you have done as much as you can, and now you should think of calling it a day.” The Professor frowned. He looked at his feet and said,

“Where would I go? I have no home. I have no family.”

“You have a daughter. Saffron? Although I know her by a different moniker. Can’t you go to her? She could help you with her contacts.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about Itaridlë. I haven’t see or heard from my daughter in years. I’m on my own. I can’t go back to London. I would rather die than spend a minute in one of those detention centres, knowing I didn’t raise a hand to stop the monster I helped create. I have no option but to go on.”

The Professor looked into Itaridlë’s blue eyes, fixed into a beautiful face, but he saw no hint of compassion or emotion. He was dubious about the sincerity of the eternal gratitude she had expressed. Doubtfully, he wondered how Itaridlë was aware of the existence of his daughter or the control site being moved. Clearly, she had access to her own intelligence gathering. He racked his brain for further information likely to be of use to them and spent the next hour briefing Itaridlë on more of the technical details of the Silent Wave project. He said no more about his daughter or his contact within the Government.

Later Lúthien returned from the driver’s cabin and whispered something into Itaridlë’s ear. Itaridlë informed the Professor they were being forced to take a diversion because of police road blocks on the main road north. He was given some lunch and a mug of hot green tea. He then fell asleep. The truck snaked its way through the west coast, the route via Glen Shiel, Torridon and the banks of Loch Maree, before finally arriving at the town of Ullapool. When Professor Burke woke, the truck was still and he was greeted by Inwë who provided him with a drink of water and a high energy snack bar. Itaridlë opened the hatch door to the rear of the vehicle and asked the Professor to step out.

Itaridlë surveyed the area. The town was busier than normal and the muffled sound of folk music came from a large blue tent to the north. She shook the Professor’s hand and said,

“You’ve arrived just in time for the Loopallu festival Professor. You should be able to blend with the crowd.” Itaridlë looked the Professor up and down and then said goodbye. He watched the truck move off, trundling slowly through the street lined with white cottage buildings and then out of town. Professor Burke was overwhelmed by his situation and a feeling of being alone and vulnerable. It had been a while since he had left the familiar confines of his London apartment. He felt detached from reality and the rest of the world, and though he knew the Elfs didn’t trust him, they were the only meaningful human contact in the last few days, besides the bartender from the Splurge Bucket.

He rubbed some life back into his buttocks and then crossed the road to a hotel called the Ferry Boat Inn. He decided a quick malt whisky would sharpen his resolve. As he opened the bar door his sinuses were assaulted by a bitter and sulphurous odour. He turned his gaze towards the dock. He could see a number of fishing vessels harboured in the distance, but one ship stood out from the others: a large, white ferry with the name “Andrea Starlight” digitalised on the hull. To his side the ticket office advertised a cruise to the Hebrides and St Kilda with a caption, Witness the islands in all their majesty – see the last colony of puffins. Every trip was marked full.

The Professor turned his gaze to his feet. There, on the ground, he watched as his shoe rested across the crack in the pavement. He left it resting there and smiled. It was late in the evening and the Professor made his way through the streets, treading on all the pavement cracks as he went and enquiring at various hotels about lodgings for the night. He found a room and bedded down for the night. In the morning, after breakfast, he put his Tilley hat on, placed the strap of his leather satchel over his shoulder and started walking towards the dock. In his other hand was a bag which contained a survival suit and food rations the Elves had given him. As he approached the Andrea Starlight he could hear the engines humming, but there was something different about the superstructure. The absence of a funnel seemed peculiar to the Professor. He wondered if the ship was one of the new hydrogen cell reactor vessels he had read about in a science journal.

He noticed a group of catering staff enjoying a break. They were busy introducing themselves to each other and it was evident the ship was unguarded. A brief but strange air of excitement came over as he ascended the gangplank. He tried to appear casual and entered the ship via the kitchens. He noticed a table with staff uniforms still inside their cellophane wraps and with without any hesitation he picked one up, opened it and slipped the clean, black uniform on over his garments. They were a good fit even if the trousers were slightly tight around the crotch, considered the Professor. And then he heard voices. Two men entered the kitchen. One was a large black man with a chef’s hat. He was arguing with an officer. The Professor froze, his fists clenching at his side. The chef noticed him and stopped talking. He jabbed his forehead with an extended forefinger and shouted in a North American accent,

“Service staff have no business in the kitchens until I say so. Now, get your fanny out of here unless you want me to kick it for you. We only have six hours before our guests arrive and we still haven’t got my shipment of fresh salmon. Do you have any salmon for me? No? Then get the fuck out of my kitchen.” The Professor stood rooted to the spot, carrying a look of bafflement on his face. The chef turned to the officer and said,

“Is this what you’re sending me Purser? Old men to do a young man’s job? The Purser looked at the Professor’s name tag. He enquired politely,

“Malcolm? Oh, Malcolm Hoi Ying Li’ I take it? Everyone else has been accounted for so you must be Malcolm. I thought you were sick? Don’t mind Chef. He’s all bark.”

“I’ll bite your ass if you don’t get out of my fucking kitchen!” growled the Chef. Professor Burke’s eyes twitched. Regaining his composure and in-between a rasping cough, he stammered,

“I was ill but I’m much better now.” The Purser stoked his long beard and said,

“You better get your cough checked out by the ship’s doctor before you go anywhere. I don’t want you infecting the crew. I thought you said you had shingles or was that Craig? Anyway, we don’t have time for this so get to the doc, and then find Mr Healy who will show you your quarters. The Professor nodded and continued to stare at the two men until the Chef shouted,

“What are you waiting for cracker? Do you want a fucking letter posted to you with instructions? You heard the man, off with you and if I catch you malingering around in my kitchen again, without me expressly welcoming you in, which is highly unlikely, I’ll kick your ass.”

The Professor decided this would be a good time to leave. He entered the outside deck and noticed a number of passengers congregating on the dock and fussing over their luggage. For a moment he turned his attention to one of the lifeboats and considered hiding until they were at sea. Eventually, he decided he had bluffed his way this far and now had nothing to lose. He went to find Mr Healy and later was shown to a room where he would share the voyage with three other workmates. To the Professor’s relief, placed on top of his bunk, was a folder with Malcolm Hoi Ying Li’s details enclosed within, and an employment contract which he was urged to sign immediately before handing it back to Mr Healy.

Later in the morning, the Professor passed groups of passengers and crew in the passageway. He detected an excited buzz about the ship. He could hear a number of voices and different accents and languages from around the world. He was convinced the ship’s departure was imminent. Arriving at the dining area, he noticed a group of waiters all dressed in black but considerably younger than himself. Behind them was the bar. It was closed and on a barstool sat a giant of a man who asked in a polite but perceptible Mancunian accent when he could get a drink?

The following day, the Professor continued with his charade, all the while waiting to be exposed as a stowaway. To his surprise the deception continued until later he was asked to report to the Purser’s office at midday. The Professor’s stomach knotted and he was breathing hard. In a state of desperation he came across a pod. Inside was one of the ship’s inflatable life rafts. He dithered for a while, checking to see if he was being observed. There was no one else on the deck. He broke the seal, opened the pod and crept inside. He thanked the gods for his small stature which otherwise would have made the task impossible. Exhausted from his panic, he snuggled inside the plastic folds of the raft, closed his eyes and went to sleep cradling his leather satchel.

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