The Faslane Files: Volume One: The Faslane Files, #1

By Harry Dayle

Deep beneath the bank of a Scottish loch, one hundred men, women and children are beginning a new life. An outpost for the remnants of humanity, their mission is simple: to survive in a world rendered uninhabitable by a giant asteroid. Safe from the poisoned world above, they begin their task with vigour. But they are blissfully unaware of the terrifying danger that lurks below.

Six weeks after the world ended, the survivors aboard cruise ship Spirit of Arcadia have installed a small contingent of skilled individuals and families in a Royal Navy bunker. More than just a backup plan for the human race, these volunteers must realise an essential goal. They are to find a way to provide food and fuel for themselves, and for the three thousand other survivors who will one day return in the ship.

Brimming with hope and enthusiasm, the new community is raring to make a start. But their new home is not all it seems, and beneath them, a terrible danger is awakening.

The Faslane Files: Volume One is the first in an exciting new series set in the world of Noah's Ark.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Harry Dayle
• Release date: Jan 12, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223008118

Book preview

One

Mandy Chalmers lay on top of the bed and stared upwards, contemplating the brutal concrete above her, and the thick chunk of Scotland above that. There was no doubting that her new home was a marvel of engineering, but she couldn’t help wondering, was it really safe? Or was it possible the asteroid had weakened the structure, that the whole lot could come crashing down, burying her alive?

The only significant time Mandy had ever spent below ground level had been her journeys on the Tube. In particular, those all too regular signal failures which meant instead of being propelled through a tunnel at high speed, she was stuck fast for up to an hour at a time. Yet none of those times — stationary several stories below the streets of London — had she ever given a second thought to the mass of earth and buildings above. They were as unremarkable as a morning cup of coffee.

Lying there in the base, staring at the dull grey ceiling, she was coming to terms with the fact a significant proportion of the next three months would be spent underneath enough soil, rock, and concrete to flatten her in the blink of an eye. The weight of everything above seemed to bear down more heavily with that knowledge.

You awake? Damien rolled over, speaking in the dreamy way that made it impossible to know if he was sleep-talking or not.

Yes.

Sleep well? His arm flopped across her chest.

No.

He grunted, not awake enough to formulate a proper question.

I didn’t sleep at all, Mandy continued. Too warm. No air. And I think I’m becoming claustrophobic. How does that work? I’ve never been claustrophobic in my life. This room’s big enough. Maybe it’s the lack of natural light.

Damien grunted again.

And the kids kept me awake.

Kids? He opened one eye, squinted at her, then closed it again.

You didn’t hear them? Charging up and down the corridors. They should be with their families. Putting them in the same room was a terrible idea. They’ll get to know each other well enough when they start lessons. They don’t need to be together at night as well. They should all be living in family rooms with their parents.

He yawned. They were just excited. First night. Can’t blame ’em for that, hon.

Mandy didn’t reply. She swung her legs off the bed and pulled on some clothes without looking at her husband. He was starting to doze again. She checked her watch, trying to decide whether or not to brave the communal bathroom. There was supposed to be hot water available, but it was being strictly rationed until the Utilities Team was satisfied that sanitation and a sustainable water supply were both fully operational. She decided to do her bit for the conservation of resources and skip the shower.

Leaving Damien to be re-awoken by the klaxon that was due to signal the start of the working day, Mandy shut the door quietly and tried to remember the way to the dining room. Level one was laid out just the same as the two levels below, in a grid system. In theory it was impossible to get lost. In practice, the place was so vast, Mandy thought she would never learn to find her way around. The signage was of no help, uselessly pointing the way to the lifts and the stairs. For the time being, everyone was to be living on the same level. The stairs were not her destination.

Each room in the base was uniquely identified by a combination of level and corridor numbers plus a door number, but the doors themselves were all identical. The nurse looked up and down the plain corridor. She couldn’t for the life of her remember which room breakfast was due to be served in, or in which direction that room might be found. She was saved by a man in Royal Navy uniform. He had just stumbled out of a doorway not far from her own.

Good morning, he said quietly. Lost?

Yes, I’m afraid so.

Follow me.

They walked together, their footsteps echoing around the soulless space. In some ways it reminded Mandy of hospitals she had worked in. Except of course, those establishments had been filled with life, even if much of it was balanced precariously on the brink. The base was eerily quiet, to the point that she began to wonder if the other ninety-seven inhabitants had all run away in the night.

You’ll get used to it soon enough, the man said, his sing-song Welsh accent and soft voice at odds with his impressive size and severe features. I remember the first time I came here. It took me four hours to find my way to the training room I was looking for, by which time the course had finished.

Oh dear. Did you get to retake it another time?

Retake it? I was teaching it! To be honest with you, it wasn’t a very interesting course anyway. ‘High Pressure Hose Maintenance’. I found the men who were supposed to attend and we all agreed to say nothing about it, so everyone was happy. Here we are, room 1-4-14. After you. The man pushed the door open and held it for Mandy.

Thanks.

Room fourteen was one of the largest on the level, occupying an entire block. It was a purpose-built canteen, with the kitchens taking up a quarter of the space. Bland grey tables had been pushed together into long rows, increasing the capacity. Getting all one hundred residents seated at once wasn’t quite possible, but if some stood at the back, the whole community could at least be together in one place.

I’m Elis, by the way. You’re the nurse, aren’t you?

Mandy nodded and held out a hand. Mandy Chalmers. Nice to meet you, Elis.

I thought I recognised you. You’re the one who saved us all from that virus. Found the solution before Vardy. I tell you, that got the boys talking. Beautiful and intelligent. You’re a bit of a star, you are!

And married, Mandy added, waggling a ringed finger under his nose.

Elis held up his hands. Sorry. Didn’t mean it to sound like that. I’m married myself as it happens. Well, I mean, I was. My wife… He stared at the floor for a moment. Well, no use moping. We’re all in the same boat, so to speak. Or the same base at any rate. I just meant, well done. With the virus. It’s good to know we’re in safe hands.

Vardy and Janice did all the work really. I just noticed the kids were immune.

She looked along the serving counter between the kitchen and seating area. It was mostly empty, save for one section upon which were some cartons of cereal, a jug of milk and one of orange juice, a basket filled with hot bread, a small selection of jams, and a filter-coffee machine. Despite the limited choice, Mandy was overjoyed by the sight of the bread. How did they get bread? I didn’t think there was any in the stores. She took two slices and arranged them on a plate, along with a scoop of strawberry jam.

A woman appeared from the kitchen. She was dressed in chef’s whites and carried a stack of plates. Part-baked and dried. It tastes like cardboard, so don’t get your hopes up, she said, heaving the crockery onto the counter. She held out a hand. I’m Georgie. You can tell me your names if you want, but don’t be upset when I forget them by lunchtime.

Mandy, said Mandy warmly.

Elis. I won’t lie to you, Georgie, I’m glad they left us a chef from the cruise ship. Our man is friendly enough, but not very inventive. Don’t get me wrong, I loves a curry as much as the next man, but every week it’s the same thing.

I’m only a humble sous-chef, Elis, but I’ll do my best to vary the menu.

Having filled their trays with food, Mandy and Elis sat at one of the long tables and chatted as they ate. Elis explained that he was an engineer on HMS Ambush, and that he’d volunteered to stay behind at Faslane mainly because that’s where the food stocks were. He was assigned to the Utilities Team, and was going to be putting his skills to use in trying to come up with ways to provide renewable power for the base. Everyone knew the diesel reserves would run dry eventually.

More people drifted into the canteen, and Georgie greeted them all with equal enthusiasm. Once the deafening klaxon sounded, the room filled up quickly. Damien joined his wife, apparently as elated by the presence of coffee as she had been by the bread. The noise level rose as people struck up excited conversations all around them.

Less than twenty-four hours earlier they had waved off the Spirit of Arcadia and HMS Ambush. The submariners were like a close-knit family, but the civilians were mostly strangers to one another. Introductions were being made, hopes and plans shared, and even a few rumours had begun to circulate. The children, bleary eyed after their mostly sleepless night, had found their families and were recounting their nocturnal adventures.

At the end of the room someone banged a metal tray against the counter, bringing the conversations to a halt. Mandy looked up to see a tall man in full navy uniform surveying the crowd. He waited for the noise to die down, then addressed everyone present.

"Good morning, everyone. For those of you I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting in person, my name is Wickham Grey, and I am the new captain of the Faslane community. I don’t particularly care for the title of Captain, but the committee decided to bestow it upon me when planning our little outpost. Who am I to argue with a democratically elected body when I am but a humble submariner in Her Majesty’s service?

"You do not need me to tell you the importance of our fledgling community to the survival of mankind. But I would like to reiterate that every one of you has been chosen because you have something unique to offer Faslane, and by extension, humanity. We are very possibly the only land-based survivors on the planet. Everything we do here will shape our world for generations to come. We are both a bridge to the past and a road to the future. The choices we make will decide whether the human race continues to survive. Yes, our task is that important, and we must all, every one of us, be mindful of that burden at all times. Equally, we cannot allow it to overwhelm us, or to crush us. The way we do that is to focus on our mission, as a group and as individuals. You all know why you are here. You all know what is expected of you. Do the very best work you can, be the very best person you can be, and Faslane will thrive. And when Faslane thrives, mankind will thrive.

"This community is more than mere support for the Ambush and the Spirit of Arcadia — we are the first push back into occupied territory. We are the advance guard, working behind enemy lines. Our enemy may not be sentient, may not even be alive, but it is no less dangerous for that. The toxic ash that covers the planet represents the greatest challenge we could have the misfortune to face, but face it we will. And triumphant shall we be.

Eat heartily this morning, and get to know one another. I shall be meeting you all individually over the coming days. Cooperation and good will is our greatest asset, our most powerful weapon. The days and weeks ahead will be tough. Only by working together can we succeed. I have faith in you all, that when the ships return in three months, they will find a successful, vibrant, and most important of all, productive community. A model for the future.

Grey looked out at the crowd, expecting a reaction. Mandy took the initiative and began to clap tentatively. The captain caught her eye, and she saw a glimmer of appreciation behind his defiant gaze. As the applause spread, Grey looked relieved.

Elis leaned over and whispered in her ear, He was our XO. Second in command. Nice enough fella, but a touch of the Yoda when he speaks. I hope he’ll prove me wrong, but I don’t think he’s got what it takes to run this lot.

Mandy glanced around, paying particular attention to the Ambush crew members. They were noticeably less enamoured of their senior officer’s words than the civilians.

Two

Deep below the bank of a Scottish loch, Jasper stirred. He’d been asleep for so very, very long. Had anybody seen him, they would quite reasonably have assumed that he was dead, such was the depth of his slumber.

But Jasper was not dead.

Jasper was already sleeping when the asteroid had soared through the sky, erasing life — almost all existence — beneath it. He had slept on, unaware of what had happened to his planet above, kept warm and safe by the precautions that had been taken to protect his wellbeing. Those very precautions had been on the edge of extinction. Their batteries exhausted, they were no longer capable of providing life-giving air and heat. Jasper, although he did not know it, was on the verge of dying.

Then, miraculously, power had been restored. The batteries were replenished. The protective cocoon was safe, and Jasper within it.

And that is how he should have stayed. He would have seen out his days beneath the cloak of sleep, slipping effortlessly and painlessly from the world when his time came. Yet something had changed. The systems, so perfectly designed, were not quite perfect enough. Having expired, only to be brought back from the brink, they reset themselves. And then they did exactly what they were programmed to do in such an eventuality: they began waking Jasper. And they began waking the others, too.

Three

Breakfast had been allowed to run on so that the community could meet and mingle. It was the first real opportunity to do so. The previous day had been too hectic, with people being shown to their accommodation, bags being unpacked, and everyone settling in.

At 10AM, Captain Grey called order once more and decreed that work should begin. Teams were to assemble and prepare for the duties that lay ahead.

The children were led off to a classroom for the start of their formal education by Damien. Mandy gave him a peck on the cheek as he left, causing one or two of the older kids to laugh and jeer.

The adults shuffled around and organised themselves into their respective teams. Mandy noted with interest that Elis hadn’t just been assigned to the Utilities Team, he was in charge of it. He shepherded his group out of the canteen and off to the bowels of the base. They were to begin cataloguing the contents of the cavernous stores below.

The other large group was the Agriculture and Food Production Team. They were tasked with supplementing the supplies that had been discovered in the hidden level-four bunker with fresh produce. Their role was even more vital than Utilities because the one hundred inhabitants of the Faslane base were not the only people who needed feeding. Almost three thousand people aboard the cruise liner Spirit of Arcadia, and Royal Navy nuclear submarine HMS Ambush required vast amounts of food too. Nobody had yet calculated precisely how long the base supplies would last, but even with strict rationing in place, they would run out one day.

The AFP team’s mission, like those of the other groups, had been decided by the governing committee before the cruise ship left the base. A timetable had been put in place: Faslane was to be providing twenty-five percent of its own food by the time the Arcadia returned in three months. It was a tall order, not least because of the toxic ash covering the land outside. The first priority was to clear enough land to be able to start cultivating crops.

Mandy didn’t envy either of the main teams their jobs. Both had seemingly impossible tasks, but the submariners at least, appeared to relish their challenge. Patrolling the deep sea for months on end, she decided, must have left some very creative and intelligent men frustrated. Faslane wasn’t a game, but their new life was the best entertainment the navy men had had in months, probably years.

For her part, Mandy was half of the Medical Team. The junior half. Her title was Base Nurse. She didn’t like it.

It makes it sound like I’m the simplified version, the starter model, she had complained to Damien as they had unpacked their bags the previous evening. I understand base refers to this place, but couldn’t they have come up with something better? I mean, just ‘Nurse’ would do, wouldn’t it? What’s worse is that Doctor Ganjit’s title is ‘Doctor’. Why isn’t he ‘Base Doctor’?

Damien had pointed out that he himself was ‘Base Education Officer’, a title equally as demeaning, but that he wasn’t complaining. Nobody’s going to use titles anyway. Give it a week and we’ll all be on first name terms. Trust me, he had insisted.

Mandy had met Doctor Ganjit briefly aboard the Arcadia when she had volunteered for Faslane. She thought he seemed nice enough, but suspected he might be out of his depth. Her hope had been that the Ambush’s medical officer, Russell Vardy, would stay behind. Her brief time working with him during the virus outbreak on the cruiser had given her a glimpse of a driven and determined man, one she would have delighted in learning from. His formidable experience was beyond doubt. He also possessed more than a passing familiarity with the base, although he was not alone in that respect. Vardy, though, had remained with his submarine, and Mandy was left with a retired GP from Birmingham, who had specialised in asthma while he was still working. Ganjit had come to the end of his career six years previously and had been travelling the world ever since. Mandy had to admit they had been lucky to find him. A roll call had gone out for medical professionals during the virus crisis, and Ganjit had not made himself known at the time as he was one of the first infected.

While the AFP team assembled in one corner of the canteen, Mandy found the doctor and sat with him.

Hello, Mandy. How did you like your breakfast? He didn’t rise to greet her. She wasn’t surprised; the man was still confined to his wheelchair. His legs had not fully recovered from the destruction wrought by the mutated invader.

Yeah, good, thanks. Great to eat bread again. So what’s the plan? I don’t suppose we’re just going to sit around the medical centre and wait for someone to get sick?

Quite right. Ganjit chuckled. I shall begin an inventory of the equipment and medication at our disposal. You are being seconded to the food production team. They wish to begin clearing ash today, so there is risk of burning and corruption of the flesh. You are to take an expanded first aid kit and spend the day working with them.

Mandy’s eyes widened. She knew that volunteering to remain on the base would carry a certain risk element, but she hadn’t counted on being sent out into the poisonous exterior on her first day at work.

Well? Ganjit looked at her inquisitively. "What are you waiting for? Push