Chapter 9 - Rubicon
Jes and Megan know they were based in Shenzhen, a city north of Hong Kong, working as mining engineers for IPMC, before they were selected for the Mars trip. The other SEALs were based in Taipei, Taiwan, mostly experienced with the US Navy but work for anyone rich enough globally, mercenaries, basically. Some were trained in mining operations in Australia. Drew was the only Seal to have worked for IPMC in Shenzhen on the Mark 5 drill after graduating in Taipei. He joined the US Navy Seals thanks to his father’s military links and a deal between the US and China to exchange mining and space exploration technology.
About halfway between Taiwan and their Hong Kong destination Kaffey picks up a large and strange radar signature in the middle of the South China Sea, large being bigger than a ship and strange because it’s fairly circular in profile, about 2 kilometers in diameter. As they approach, at 10 kilometers, a few of the guys start hearing things, like a broken message, then they start hearing a clear repeating message once a minute, and getting a bit loud.
“Unidentified vessel, you are heading on collision course in restricted waters, alter course due south to avoid us or switch your Autopilot to ‘guidance receive’.”
“Where is that coming from?” asks Kaffey, “Can you hear it?”
Blair is on the bridge too and confirms, “Yes I heard that,” and looks at the Autopilot. “There’s no switch for ‘guidance receive’ on this Autopilot. Is the radio working yet?” enquires Blair.
“No, a couple of parts are burnt out, we need to make port to repair it. Wish my phone worked out here…” Kaffey cuts short as Drew walks onto the bridge with Jes.
“Did you hear that, Kaffey?” asks Drew.
“Yes we heard it, but where’s it coming from? I was just saying to Blair: ‘I wish my phone worked, we could give them a call.’”
Drew rummages around in his inside pocket and pulls out a mobile phone. “My signal’s dead,” he reports.
Jes is looking at his phone now: “Hey, cool phone, man, where did you get that?” asks Drew, as he looks over his shoulder at the display, “I’ve got a signal,” claims Jes, “Erm, and that message in text!”
The SEALs raise their eyebrows at the same time in disbelief, “you got that as a text message?” one says.
Jes speaks to the phone without dialing, “Hello, this is Ryou Un Maru, looking for mechanical and electrical assistance.”
A perfect female voice answers, “Hello Ryou Un Maru, this is Rubicon. You are cleared to land and effect repairs. Continue on absolute bearing 225 or due South West. We estimate docking in 45 minutes at your present speed. A Pilot will be with you in 30 minutes, so please stand-by.”
Jes ends the call with a, “Thank you Rubicon,” looks at the others with pleasant surprise.
“OK, we’d bedda get packed and ready,” says Drew.
Ryou Un Maru chugs towards Rubicon at a sedate 7 knots and soon they can see what appears to be a large white desert island, not on any of the charts, in the middle of the South China Sea.
Getting closer, it looks so idyllic: like a mirage and too good to be true, with beaches, palm trees and birds flying around. The whole team are stood on the bridge and outside, watching as they approach in amazement and all hear another message: “Your Pilot is here to guide you in, please stand-by.” They see a small fully-enclosed craft approaching the bow of the ship, looking like it would only fit two people inside it, which promptly disappears from view. A light thud follows, jerk of the entire boat, then and a strong lurch forward.
“I guess he must have crashed into us,” smiles Kaffey. The others just turn to him with blank looks. The whole ship then heaves noticeably to starboard, a few of them lose balance and step to one side. The ship is being towed, as if it was as light as a feather and it’s picking up speed.
“Powerful little sucker eh? I guess the Pilot didn’t need our help,” mutters Drew.
Blair looks at the Autopilot and notices it is still working, but having no effect on the ship’s speed or direction. Drew notices too, leans over and switches it off.
The Pilot pulls the Ryou-Un Maru into a cutting, which they hadn’t noticed before, it appears to be the mooring. They dock with a light thud and their 75 ton vessel begins to lift out of the water partially, then stops. They hear a message: “You are safely docked onto Rubicon, please wait for the stairway to disembark.” A couple of the guys peer over the side nearest to the island and notice a flight of steps has appeared against the side of the trawler. “Please make your way to reception when ready,” a voice says. Still, they can’t figure where it’s coming from and nobody can take in fully what’s happening, this all seems too good to be true.
As Sam and Drew go down the stairs first, with a bag each, they see a blue neon sign about 100 meters away, saying “Reception” and head slowly towards it along a sandy wooden path. Jes and Megan follow on behind discussing how they can engineer a reason to stay here. Kaffey is the next one off and emerges in Bermuda shorts, an Hawaiian t-shirt, flip-flops, a beach bag in one hand and the broken radio weighing heavily in the other.
“Hey guys, wait for me! Do I have to carry everything?” as he stumbles after them. The others were ordered to remain on board and await instructions.
Drew looks back at Kaffey, “I hope the crew don’t come back for their holiday gear, you tea-leaf (thief) and who gave you permission to clock off?” Drew nods at Jes to give Kaffey a hand with the radio. Jes obliges, walking back, grabbing a second handle.
“We should take our time fixing this,” pleads Kaffey, “some R&R (rest and relaxation) needed, boss?”
Drew continues to shake his head, “Life’s a beach Kaffey, you know that!” smiling.
Drew is the first to ‘Reception’ and, as tradition allows, rings the servant bell on the desk, as he looks around. Sam has also been looking and says, “This is no ordinary desert island Drew, there’s a lot of money here.”
A beautiful lady emerges through a door at the back, “Good afternoon, lady and gentlemen, welcome to Rubicon. My name is Dorma, how can we help you?”
“We wondered if we could repair our radio here, rest, perhaps, and buy some supplies? We have cash and a payment card… Sam?” Drew beckons Sam over, who still retained his wallet, despite his Rubbish Island ordeal.
“I doubt payment will be necessary, I will ask Mr Fischer,” replies Dorma.
The others make it into reception and Kaffey starts to help himself to the coffee machine and biscuits. “How big is your party, Mr…?” asks Dorma.
“Just Drew, call me Drew, that’s all,” smiling flirtatiously, “Our crew is eight. Three are still on the boat. Would you like me to give you a tour of our boat?”
The receptionist smiles perfectly and says, “Oh, please, Mr Drew, that won’t be necessary, bring the others here, I’m sure they require refreshments and rest. The heat on your ship must be unbearable; our island is fully environmentally controlled.”
Drew nods gently and continues to push, “Well maybe you could give me a tour of your island? Just you and me…” as he turns to Kaffey and barks, “Stop messing with the coffee, Kaffey, and get the others, right now!” Kaffey looks up, still half bowed over the coffee machine and croaks: “Yes, boss!” spins on the ball of one of his flip-flops and waddles out of Reception.
“Please bear with me, honoured guests, I’ll call Mr Fischer and advise the situation. Please go to our waiting room through there,” pointing to another door, “help yourselves to refreshments and entertainment. I will direct your friends when they arrive.”
They begin to shuffle in as Dorma starts to make her call: “Mr Ficsher, we have a party of eight…” The doors closes behind them as they notice a buffet banquet of food and drinks laid on. There is a section of the room where you can sit, hear and see a TV type display, but not from any other part of the room. Jes grabs a plateful of snacks and perches in front of the sport. Megan walks up to him with hands on her hips: “What are you doing? Where’s m
y food? And what if I want to watch a girlie film?”
The display flickers to “Many First Dates”.
“Aww, sweety, thank you, will you watch this with me?” says Megan.
“I’m watching football,” muffles Jes with a mouthful of sushi.
Megan smiles, “Well you’ve never watched a girlie film with me, this is a first,” kissing his head.
“I’m not, I’m watching football, I’ve not seen this final before. You can watch it later.”
Megan looks at Jes and the screen, “’Many First Dates’ is still on, Sweety.”
Jes is riveted to the screen and starts to cheer: “go on, GO ON, GO GO GO… Awwww!” shaking his head, “What Sweety? No, I’m just watching the game.”
Megan can still see the girlie film playing, as the doors bursts open. Dorma flicks the door to stay open and stands ready to receive, as if royalty is arriving.
“Hello everyone, welcome to Rubicon and my humble home,” announces Mr Fischer as he glides into the plush room, with just a hint of sarcasm: a very rich looking, 50s, portly and tanned guy with sunglasses.
Drew extends his hand for shaking, “Thank you Mr Fischer, this is truly a reception to remember, very beautiful and generous, we are all starving. We must extend you the same courtesy sometime.”
“No, no, think nothing of it. I do this all the time anyway and have so few guests to enjoy it.” Dorma standing behind smiles politely, whilst Fischer greets the others, “You are all truly welcome!”
He peers across at Megan, Jes is still engrossed in the football, “Meg, is that you? Megan Rice?”
Meg smiles, nodding and walks over to Fischer, “Yes that’s right, Deiter from IMPC?” asks Megan.
“Yes I’m semi-retired now, of course. But you look 20 years younger than when I last saw you, well done.”
Megan is surprised but doesn’t show it, “Thank you and you too, so much younger and obviously eating the right foods,” Megan is thinking the opposite, she last saw this guy when he was 35, only days ago, during a broadcast he made to Mars as the new Head of Division, not some mega-rich retiree living on a desert island.
Listening in, the physicist introduces himself, “Mr Fischer, I’m Sam Page and also work for IPMC in Hong Kong.”
“Oh, OK!” says Fischer, “I didn’t know we had a facility there?”
Sam tries to enlighten him: “Yes Sir, we’re at the university doing lab work in Quantinium, it’s very cutting edge stuff.”
Fischer scowls with his eyebrows, looking confused, “Why would you be researching Quantinium? It’s our staple product, we know everything there is to know about it,” he smiles.
Sam is beginning to feel sheepish and stupid, so dips his toe in, “Can I ask what your current Quantinium products are, Sir?”
Fischer doesn’t suffer fools easily, “Need you ask, working for IPMC? We mainly use Quantinium tips for high speed drilling and grids for cracking and compacting. What are you working on?”
Sam has never heard of Quantinium being used at all, and certainly not for drilling tips. He can see a clear mismatch here. “Can I ask Sir, how you are using Quantinium for drilling?”
Fischer seems to be getting annoyed with this guy. To him it’s a dumb question from anyone, but a school leaver. “We use Quantinium to rip out the precious stuff and remove what’s left. Do you need to lie down, Sam? Have you forgotten what we do at IPMC? Our Quantinium technology pays for all of this, we have ten drills, pulling in G$300 trillion per week.”
Megan and Sam both feel uneasy with Fischer, but need him to help them sort this mess out. But how can they make him believe without looking stupid?
“OK enough shop talk,” smiles Fischer, “Dorma will show you to your quarters and assist with anything you need. Enjoy your stay, you’re more than welcome,” bowing his head slightly.
Mr Ficsher exits as fast as he arrived and takes Dorma with him. After the door closes he says to his PA, “Was that OK? Did I do alright this time?”
“Yes Sir, your performance was flawless, an Award Nomination, I feel,” smiles Dorma with an unusual, but refreshing hint of sarcasm.
“Is this the 6th or 7th time they’ve been here? And it’s getting more frequent. Better tell Mark he has another job to plan. Ask him if I have to play the guy from IPMC again, or can I be myself and talk about trawling? I’ll be on the sun deck,” instructs Fischer.
“It is the 7th time Sir!” Dorma bows slightly and stands firm until Fischer exits.