Aeon

(2011)

Aeon

Chapter 1

Mac was woken by the sound of bells. He slowly, carefully, opened one eye, then dared to open the other. He could feel sheets around him which meant he was in bed, but the ceiling wasn’t directly above him as he’d expected. He was back in his own bed in the luxurious master cabin aboard Aeon. It was clean and ordered, not the chaos of broken wood and overturned bedding that he remembered. His memories began to return. Frantically he grabbed at the sheets, pushing them down to look at his chest, all the while holding a breath.

He was fine. There was no blood, no bullet hole and no pain. He lifted his hand and checked the time. His watch showed ten thirty. He guessed it was morning as the light shining through the partially open blinds indicated a pleasant day outside. He lay still, listening intently, taking everything in, but with an ever-growing sense of failure.

It hadn’t worked.

He could hear water lapping gently against the hull behind his head and the gulls outside the window were lazily calling to each other. Then from somewhere inside the boat he heard the deadened sound of conversation; it was coming from the other side of his cabin door. He tried to suppress the building excitement until he figured out when exactly he was.

After checking his chest again he thought it safe to get up. He swung his legs round to the floor, feeling the thick woollen carpet beneath his feet, all the while looking in the direction of the sound of conversation. He finally pinpointed a voice, higher than the others and with a definite Australian accent.

Alice, he whispered, almost crying.

Mac grabbed a robe which this time fitted exactly, then paused with his hand on the door handle, trying to imagine what he would find on the other side.

Slowly, he pressed down, pulling the door towards him, holding his breath expectantly.

Mac blinked. He must have been daydreaming as he slouched on one of four stools in the Tongan Airport bar, three of which had been recently vacated by a group of very loud, suited businessmen. They’d finally decided to board their waiting flight after repeated last calls, announced in broken English by the airport dispatcher. Luckily, Mac’s stool had not been in use and the brightly coloured velour upholstery was cold to the touch. He hated sitting on other people’s warmth.

The two other people in the bar sat at a white plastic table, clearly waiting for separate parties being privately flown in, or so the electronic Pads that the smartly dressed agents had in front of them indicated.

As Mac pulled the dregs from the locally brewed, unpronounceable bottle of beer, he slowly scanned the ceiling of the room, thinking back to the daydream, noting the stained watermarks between the false ceilings tiles, where presumably, the recent heavy rains had found their way through the terminal’s metal roof. The daydream had almost felt real. He must need more sleep.

Mac waved his empty bottle at the uninterested bartender who was deep into solving the day’s crossword.

Another of whatever that was, said Mac, ordering more out of boredom and to keep himself awake than actually liking the beer.

The bartender glanced up at him and slowly put down his Pad. He strained out of his chair and managed to make the two metre walk across the bar look a long way.

TeynDalla, said the bartender, holding out his hand and not releasing the new bottle of beer from its fridge until the appropriate monies had been exchanged.

Mac took a swig from the cold bottle, then went back to his observations of this now old, and slightly dilapidated, airport lounge.

Anyone who happened to glance in Mac’s direction would have taken him for just another tourist. Typically British in appearance, his pinking skin and unhealthy posture spoke volumes. He wore a dark blue polo shirt which looked tight around the waist, and light cotton trousers, with the obligatory open toed sandals to combat the outside heat.

If they’d taken the time to study Mac a little closer, they would have noticed the small label on the neck of his polo shirt read Gucci and the titanium watch on his left wrist was a genuine Rolex, its large white face with small red Daytona tag occasionally catching the light. They would also have noticed a pair of one-piece, carbon fibre Oakley sunglasses, which Mac had carelessly thrown down on the short wooden bar, next to his beer, a solid aluminium Princess Transponder key and his now out of date but coveted electronic Pad.

Mac enjoyed noting little subtleties around him. Someone had been spending money quietly upgrading the IT facilities, if not the building itself. It was equipped with several of the latest interactive advertising screens. The interested consumer could now ask questions about the range of products that were endlessly rotating on the two-metre high displays and if they were really lucky, they may even learn something.

The far end of the lounge, next to the small customs counter, was devoted to Internet terminals, each terminal projecting its crystal clear image onto the whitewashed wall behind and consisting of the now common docking station for each person’s Personal Access Device, or PAD as everyone now seemed to call them.

The water-stained ceiling was equipped with the latest projection speakers, cleverly concealed above the roof tiles every metre or so. They allowed the listener to hear music or advertising in a cone of sound which was literally projected downwards from the ceiling.

Mac had deliberately placed his bar stool on the edge of one of these cones of sound, trying desperately to avoid listening to an advert for the latest shampoo filled with fruit, nuts and elements he wasn’t even aware existed.

Not much use on my grade one haircut, he thought before moving his bar stool slightly to the left.

The normal inactivity between flights had made the terminal’s intelligent lighting switch off in several unoccupied areas, but it was ultimately unnecessary, as outside the day was warm and the sun shone high in the cloudless blue sky, bathing the terminal in light.

The large arrivals screen to Mac’s left flashed an update, informing him of the now overdue aircraft’s arrival time.

That should be about a bottle and a half of beer, he thought.

As he mindlessly sat watching the world outside, he began to get hunger pangs. He wasn’t sure if this was brought on by the beer he was drinking, or his receding hangover from the previous night’s exploits, but he glanced across the bar at the selection of food that looked as if it had been hastily prepared and certainly randomly displayed in the cabinet behind the counter.

There were several varieties of sandwiches, all on white bread and all seemingly with cheese, to appeal to the international tourist. There was also a small selection of chocolate bars and foil wrapped bags of nuts. Next to these were a selection of dried fish and breadcrumb coated balls which were the equivalent of local Tongan fast food, none of which looked very appetising. He decided to wait until they were all back on the boat. He hoped Alice would have a full welcome brunch organised by that time.

Mac had only been in Vava’u for a week, having taken the same hour-long transfer flight that he was now waiting for. It was the last leg of a long trip, and had flown him to Vava’u from Fua’amota Airport on Tongatapu, the main International Airport for the Tongan islands.

He’d spent the week relaxing, drinking, eating and generally getting over the trip from London and catching up on the sleep he’d been deprived of on the flight down. Even in World Airways Superior Class, with luxurious soundproof cabins and a private flight attendant, he still found he couldn’t sleep.

Instead of sleep, he’d managed to watch several of the 3D projection movies that the airline had on offer and drink most of his private bar during the flight. Mac had relaxed into his large, fully reclinable suite and remembered making a similarly long trip many years before; he must have been in his early teens.

He’d flown down to Australia in ‘cattle class’ as he now called it, watching the seat back movies and playing computer games with his knees pressed against the back of the seat in front, the whole time spent desperately trying not to use his elbows, but much the same as this flight, sleep had escaped him.

The memory made him smile, he realised that even though he was older, and his life had changed in so many ways since then, he hadn’t really changed that much at all.

As he sat mindlessly staring through the large terminal window at the empty runway reliving the trip, the white, whisper quiet bisjet slid past his view in almost total silence. The landing aircraft disturbed the veil of shimmering heat which seemed to hang like a fog over the bitumen, making the dense green vegetation of Vava’u natural forest appear to shimmer. The aircraft reminded Mac of a landing swan as it gracefully passed out of sight to touch down on the grey, tyre stained runway.

Now Mac could hear the crackle and noise of the aircraft as it rapidly reduced its speed, the sound of tearing air bouncing off every solid surface within the terminal. He could hear the thunderous roar of the engines and imagined the heat from the large brakes finally stopping the aircraft before the runway’s end.

Out of Mac’s view, the jet turned in a pirouette and slowly bounced its way back to the terminal, sunlight playing off its polished white surface and catching the front screen, finally flashing at Mac like a beacon as it approached the terminal.

Not even time for another beer, thought Mac, finishing the one in his hand as he slid off the bar stool and picked up his things from the bar. He slowly made his way across the squeaky polished floor to the customs counter, where the smartly dressed announcer was now putting on his customs hat.

This flight is my charter, Mac said to the official looking officer behind the desk, who was much more interested in the hundred-dollar note in Mac’s hand than in what Mac was saying.

Five people coming from the US and UK, I want to be out of here in five minutes, understand?

Mac put down the money on the counter and strolled slowly to the arrivals door, putting on his sunglasses to combat the glare.

He’d discovered during his short stay in Tonga that the people on Vava’u would relax virtually any rule or regulation with the right persuasion, true for most countries in the world, but even more so here in the Tongan islands.

The Bisjet stopped in the designated, heavily lined box outside the terminal. The noise from the engines could be heard through the hole in the wall where the small baggage conveyer passed through. Mac could smell the turbines’ exhaust coming in with the noise, which now began to decrease in pitch as the pilot shut down. The other two members of the Vava’u airport staff began moving baggage carts and other ground equipment towards the plane.

The small door of the aircraft slowly folded outwards becoming the steps for its passengers to depart. A pretty, olive skinned and, from what Mac remembered from his own flight to Vava’u, attentive stewardess came down the steps first, in a well practised and dainty manner. She was closely followed by the first of Mac’s guests, although ‘guest’ was probably the wrong term for him.

‘Brother’ would have been a better term; ‘constant pain in the arse’ would be another. ‘Money grabbing, arrogant, pig headed shit’ would have been another.

Mac had invited Karl and his wife of twelve months, Sarah, to make up for their disastrous honeymoon the year before, although he’d regretted it the moment he asked them.

Watching his brother attempt the climb down the short steps of the aircraft made Mac chuckle at the thought of their honeymoon. Only Karl and Sarah could go to Antigua and stay in one of the most luxurious Caribbean hotels on an all inclusive, no expense spared honeymoon and then spend the whole time in their room with gastro. What a waste of money for a really shitty time, thought Mac.

He’d spoken to them several times that year on the phone but hadn’t actually seen either of them since the wedding. Each time he called, Karl had completely taken over the conversation, as usual. Mac’s first impression of his brother crashing down the narrow steps of the aircraft, was that he’d put on a lot of weight.

Fat bastard, he thought, the phone image never showed that.

Karl was three years older than Mac and had always been far more intelligent, correcting the things Mac said at every opportunity, which made his company less than tolerable. Since Mac’s incredible good fortune, Karl had subtly changed the way he spoke to Mac. It was to be expected, he supposed, everyone seemed to have changed their approach to him over the last few months.

Karl was finally losing his hair, as Mac had been for years. He had grown his dark brown hair longer than Mac remembered, brushing it backwards to hide his bald spot, having so far resisted the buzz cut, possibly because Mac had it already and Karl would try to do the opposite to Mac on any occasion.

Despite all this, Karl was endeavouring to get into the spirit of things in his own sad way, by wearing a luminous blue Caribbean shirt covered in fish. This was completely inappropriate for the Tongan islands and probably bought several years before, judging by the tightness across the belly. He had finished off the ensemble with a pair of brown Jesus sandals although he refused to take off his ankle length white socks, stating that sand and dirt could get on his feet. Sandals with socks was still an unforgivable fashion sin in any country.

Sarah followed her husband down the steps, looking much the same as the last time Mac had seen her, although without the meringue shaped wedding dress. She was far too good for his brother and just as gorgeous as he remembered. Mac’s memory jumped back to a time long before Karl and Sarah were married and a very entertaining evening that ended in a hot tub. He shook the memory back into the recesses of his mind. She did look different somehow, but Mac couldn’t quite place the change. It could have been her shorter blonde hair, bob cut which seemed to be the fashion for that year, but Mac couldn’t be sure.

Sarah looked much more at home in Vava’u than Karl, she was wearing a loose white cotton suit, which rippled in the soft breeze that blew across the airfield, picking out her curves. She certainly hadn’t put on any weight and Mac thought she still looked as athletic as ever.

Following Sarah gingerly down the steps was Amber, a friend of Sarah’s from childhood and someone who had taken an instant dislike to Mac the first time they’d met, which Mac vaguely recalled was towards the end of Karl and Sarah’s wedding.

Mac had the dubious honour of being Karl’s best man and Amber had been Sarah’s matron of honour. He’d desperately tried to get along with her, finding her very attractive, single and worthy of his attentions, but his somewhat over the top attempts at wooing her had met with failure, or that’s how he remembered the events unfolding; he had been very drunk by the end of the night.

His jumbled memories of the occasion were of digging himself a deeper and deeper hole, of which he would never hope to emerge. He wasn’t even sure why she’d agreed to come along; it had all been Sarah’s idea.

I’m not getting stuck on the open ocean with all you men! Sarah had commented to Mac after he’d invited them. I need some other female company. Mac was sure the attraction of the best New Year’s party in the world would have been hard to turn down, even for Sarah.

Amber had a temperament to match her long, fiery red hair. She towered above Sarah and Karl as they walked towards Mac and he guessed she was almost six feet tall.

Amber seemed to steal Mac’s gaze, and looked prettier and much sexier than he remembered in her pastel blue bridesmaid dress. She now wore a short white cotton dress, only slightly whiter than her legs, and a tan straw hat, obviously bought at Tongatapu Airport; Mac recalled seeing them for sale hanging next to the mock turtles in the gift shop.

That was the UK contingent; now for the Yanks. First out was David, but only just. He was still holding George’s hand and almost dragged him down the short aircraft steps.

You’d think after five years together, they’d be well and truly over the handholding thing, thought Mac as he watched George regain his balance and look around, making sure no one saw his mistake.

As they both strolled across the heat soaked airfield towards the terminal, David cuddled George who was a good thirty centimetres shorter and a little rounder. He almost looked like a child next to David. There was about ten years age difference between them and they were also both as eccentric as you could be nowadays, which is why Mac enjoyed their company so much. There was no pretence between them, or from them; they were just genuine, and thought Mac, completely mad.

The large glass door of the terminal building slid back as Karl and Sarah approached. Karl walked straight up to Mac, his hand outstretched in a very professional and businesslike way.

Marcus, a pleasure to see you, he said properly as he shook Mac’s hand far more vigorously than was necessary.

Pompous prick, thought Mac.

Karl, Mac eventually replied, sounding upbeat, how was the flight?

Superior class is definitely slipping. The food was ordinary and the flat bed was a little hard.

Jesus, Karl, interjected Sarah, you’ll always find something to complain about. Pay no attention to him, Mac. It was great, thank you. She moved deliberately between them and gave Mac a hug.

You remember Amber, don’t you? Sarah said slyly introducing Amber to Mac, almost dragging her forward.

I certainly do, replied Mac sarcastically. So does my cheek!

Sarah laughed. That was your own fault. Anyway, Amber has agreed to play nicely this time. Sarah took a sideways glance at Amber.

Only if you’re on your best behaviour, Amber replied, with a smile that Mac couldn’t read, but hoped meant she was in a better mood than the last time they met.

This should be fun, he thought.

Last through the automatic glass doors and into the cool air conditioned comfort of the terminal was David and George, who together group-hugged Mac in true, over the top American style.

It’s wonderful to see you again, said David. When my assistant gave me your invitation I was so happy; we always have so much fun.

We just couldn’t wait for the holidays, continued George. It’s so exciting.

They both squeezed Mac in another show of extreme affection, both squeaking as they squeezed.

After untangling himself from David and George, Mac watched his guests as they tried to vaguely mingle together during their check in through customs. He was amazed how differently he felt about each of these people. It seemed a little surreal seeing them all again together like this.

His brother, well, he would be happier if he was back in London. Sarah, he was always happy to see. Amber, he really wasn’t sure about, although she did look nice, and David and George were always a pleasure to be around. Now all he needed was for them to get along with each other for the next few days. What could be easier?

Chapter 2

The customs officer earned his hundred-dollar bribe and quickly scanned each of the guest’s left hands between the thumb and forefinger for their id chip. This processed their entry into Vava’u in less than the asked for five minutes and he quickly arranged for their baggage to be transferred from the aircraft to Mac’s waiting transport.

As the party exited the terminal, several young sellers descended on them at once, trying to entice the party to buy worthless bits of island memorabilia. Mac ushered them away, promising to buy their cheap crap some other time, as his guests climbed into the waiting Land Rover Defender Mac had hired for the day. With all the baggage on a trailer, there was plenty of room for them on the bench seats in the back and they were soon underway for the twenty-minute drive to the wharf.

I’m amazed, began Karl, they still don’t have electric cars on these islands. Do you realise the pollution this thing is pumping out?

Not even a minute, thought Mac. He couldn’t wait to start on me.

I love it, replied Mac, suppressing the urge to bite back. It’s great to drive a proper car again with gears and a clutch. Look, it even has an old fashioned key. I’d almost forgotten how to drive one of these things.

So you’d rather this than the Aston? Karl scoffed.

Over these roads, Mac replied, definitely.

They bounced along the unsealed roads of the island, the dense vegetation striking the sides of the Land Rover in places as Mac reduced their speed to avoid the potholes that seemed to be everywhere. The squeaks and rumbles of the old suspension played an out of tune duet with the trailer behind them, which seemed to be making much harder work of the road than the Land Rover.

David has just penned an updated for his electric city car, said George to Sarah across the bench seats in the back, making conversation, We’re hoping to present it to the manufacturers when we get back. He’s done an amazing job with the design this time. George looked at David and smiled deeply at him, putting his hand on David’s thigh.

If it’s as good as your last one, shouted Mac from the driver’s seat, we’ll be seeing it buzzing around the cities by this time next year. Did you bring any sketches?

Of course not, David replied flamboyantly, waving his hands in the air. This is a holiday.

Seated next to Sarah, Karl watched this from the opposite bench seat and rolled his eyes, making sure Sarah and Amber could clearly see his disgust. They both ignored Karl as best they could.

There was thirty seconds of silence between them all as they each tried not to look one another in the eye, the whining from the Land Rover’s gearbox filling the gap. Mac wondered what the hour long flight had been like. He gained a strange satisfaction from watching other people’s uncomfortable silences, but this one had already been broken by Karl, again.

So which one did you buy in the end? We never found out, Karl shouted forward to Mac.

Oh the boat! I went for the Princess, said Mac looking in the mirror at Karl. It wasn’t new, almost two years old, but if I’d gone with the new Sunseeker, then it wouldn’t have arrived in time, and I thought the Princess looked sleeker.

Did you get it for a good price?

I think so. I wasn’t really bothered. It had everything I wanted, so I bought it, replied Mac as he continued to work the steering wheel around the rough road.

"So, how much?"

Two and a half, I think, with taxes and shipping. Mac shrugged his shoulders, talking as if he had just bought a cheap used car.

Christ, I could have found you one for less than that, shouted Karl, raising his voice over the rumble of the wheels.

Well, I was happy with the price, snapped Mac. You wait till you see her.

What’s she called? asked Sarah, seeing Mac’s annoyance building and trying again to change the direction of conversation.

Aeon, replied Mac. I didn’t choose the name; it was already registered as that, but I’m keeping it as I kinda like it.

The road surface was getting better and slightly quieter as they drew closer to the main town of Neiafu. The dense green forest that covered most of the island, was still thick either side of the road that was gradually getting wider, giving way to the occasional clearing with a hut or shop nestled within the vegetation. This at least, broke up the tunnel like view that the travellers received from the rear of the vehicle.

Everything was so green, the island still getting plenty of rain. Karl, Sarah and Amber were used to rain, coming from the south of England, but for David and George, rain was a luxury they had very little of and they gazed in awe at the sumptuous green view.

They were based in New York in the United States, which for years had seen its rainfall slowly decline and the land dry up like so many other places around the globe. It seemed to be unstoppable, despite the curbing of emissions by the majority of westernised countries.

The road began to descend and the trees that lined the track started to thin as they arrived at the edges of the main town of Neiafu. Many more huts began to adorn the side of the road and there were island people walking along its edges, carrying bags filled with fruit and vegetables.

Others carried fish and one guy was dragging along a stubborn looking goat. Chickens were roaming freely on either side of the road and through the open doorways of dilapidated huts, large flat panel televisions and double door fridges could clearly be seen, the electricity connected precariously via bare wires linking the huts to overhead cables.

Islanders sat on thirty-year-old fold out chairs and had boxes – probably the same boxes the televisions had arrived in – as tables. It was an incredible sight to see – old fashioned, authentic island living, intertwined with modern day technology that looked completely out of place in their environment.

As they drove on, the living began to improve with much larger houses lining the now sealed road, the doors of which were firmly closed and the fronts swept clean. They were definitely a higher class of home than those on the outskirts of town.

They quickly arrived at the waterfront next to the main church, which was pure white and extremely well maintained. White colonial style houses, probably belonging to non-islanders or the few government officials that lived in Neiafu, stood either side of the church. Again, they were meticulously maintained in a stark contrast to the rest of the island.

As Mac pulled up next to the wharf, they could all clearly see Aeon moored at the end of the jetty, easily three times the size of anything else in the harbour.

Wow, said Amber quietly, the first words she had uttered since leaving the airport.

Oh, Mac, he looks wonderful. I can’t wait to go aboard. George was enthusiastic as usual.

It’s not as big as I expected for the money, remarked Karl, to Sarah’s embarrassment.

You’re not usually allowed to bring a boat this size right in, said Mac, gazing at Aeon, but as they say, money opens many doors. He grinned and jumped out of the driver’s seat, then completely ignoring his guests, started down the wharf towards his new toy.

Aeon was visually a beautiful boat. A Princess VE66 Power Yacht, Aeon was a twenty metre long shining silver arrow with sleek lines and contrasting long black windows that seemed to be sliced into her side. She looked as if she were going twenty knots tied up to the wharf side.

As Mac strolled down the jetty he could make out Alice, sitting on the red curving leather sofa at the stern of the boat wearing what looked like pink children’s pyjamas. Laid out on the table in front of her was, what appeared to be, a banquette. As Mac arrived at Aeon’s side, he shouted across to Alice.

"I asked for a welcome lunch for seven, not a state dinner for twenty."

Alice gave a shrug. I gave the local restaurant three hundred bucks and asked for lunch; this is what they did. Don’t fuckin blame me, she replied unapologetically.

I thought you were gonna prepare it all.

If you hadn’t got me pissed last night I might of, but with this hangover, I’m doing the best I can. Ok! Alice got up and stomped down the short set of steps that led to her cabin below the rear deck and slammed the door. Mac assumed she was finally going to get dressed.

An enterprising young island boy had managed to earn ten dollars from Sarah by dragging the group’s luggage from the trailer down to the boat and each of them were now standing alongside Aeon gazing at her with awe and in Karl’s case, a little jealousy.

What are you all waiting for – permission? shouted Mac. This ain’t the navy; climb aboard. He ushered them onto the rear deck, then called the young boy over.

You can earn another ten bucks if you take the Land Rover back to the rental garage for me, understand. He knew full well the kid didn’t have a licence and probably couldn’t even reach the pedals, let alone drive safely.

Na probs, replied the boy, grabbing the keys that Mac dangled in front of him as he headed off towards the parked vehicle.

Mac finally climbed aboard, not wanting to watch what happened next. If the boy damaged the Land Rover, he would simply say the kid had stolen it.

Mac had owned Aeon for a little over a week and had spent most of that time aboard, familiarising himself with the workings of this high tech power yacht. Unlike the car industry, which had undergone major change during the previous ten or so years with the slow demise of the petrol engine and the introduction of electric, hydrogen and hybrid powered cars, the marine industry had remained relatively unchanged. Sure, the marine engines fitted to power yachts were now much more efficient than they used to be, and were quieter and produced almost half the carbon dioxide emissions of older power yachts, but aside from some minor aesthetic differences, a harbour still had the same appearance now as it had ten or even twenty years before. But with the new super taxes that plagued the rich, they really were the only ones who could now afford to own a boat like Aeon, so they could also afford the extreme pollution levies weighed on this sort of marine craft.

The sea was calm in the shelter of Neiafu harbour and there was a cooling light easterly breeze coming from around the headland, dropping the temperature to the mid twenties. Mac stood and looked around the tranquil harbour, taking in the final moments of silence before his guests emerged from inspecting the inside of the cabin and presumably congratulated him on such a wonderful boat. The water lapped gently against the hull, almost applauding as the waves wandered leisurely across the surface, and in the distance, he could hear the ringing of many chords constantly knocking against their masts from the larger sailing yachts anchored off shore, the metallic chiming sounding like a collection of out of tune bells.

Karl was the first to emerge.

The cabins are a bit small for all of us. I’m surprised you didn’t buy a bigger boat. It’s not as if you can’t afford it, he said sarcastically.

Mac almost bit back, but instead replied, "Ha Ha, very funny. Any bigger and half the harbours round here won’t allow you in. Anyway it’s still the best Christmas present I’ve ever had, and then quickly changing the subject, something he’d had a lot of practise at when talking to his brother over the years, he said, Come and have some lunch."

They both stood on opposite sides of the table and started picking at the wonderful array of seafood and fruit dishes. Shortly, Sarah joined them, relieving the awkward silence.

She’s wonderful, Mac. Have you taken her out yet?

Only around the harbour. Tomorrow will be the first sea trial. How hard can it be? He winked at Sarah and moved on before Karl had time to remark. If all goes well, I’m hoping to spend the next six months aboard, island hopping, and from there, well – I haven’t planned that far ahead. Mac grabbed some bottles of cold beer from the outside fridge and offered them around.

Listen, Mac, began Sarah in a hushed but serious tone, before she comes out and so you don’t make an arse of yourself like usual, it’s best not to mention children around Amber, not that you have any reason to I know, but she recently lost her baby and the subject is still a little tender. I’ve already briefed David and George— Sarah stopped at Mac’s subtle cough and turned as Amber appeared in the doorway behind her.

This time the silence was definitely uncomfortable for everyone, and went on long enough for Amber to realise the discussion was about her.

So I guess you know as well, said Amber, glaring directly at Mac, then glancing angrily at Sarah.

Err, know what? replied Mac, realising as he said this, he was already making matters worse.

Amber shook her head. Forget it, she snapped. She grabbed a spare beer from the table and sat on one side of the large red semicircular sofa that wrapped itself around the stern of the boat with the rear steps cutting through its centre. Mac and Sarah both watched her slump into the seat, then looked back at one another, Sarah’s expression full of blame, Mac’s one of simple confusion.

Alice finally appeared from her cabin, wearing the smallest yellow bikini Mac had ever seen, drawing his attention away from Sarah’s daggers.

Alice had come free with the boat. She looked after the running, cleaning, and general day-to-day maintenance for the old owner and was happy enough to do the same for Mac. Her only requirements were free board, her own cabin, a small allowance and airfare home once a year to Brisbane Australia. Other than that, she went where the boat went, and enjoyed every day as if it were her last, a nice life if you could get it.

She was twenty-four years old, and Mac had decided she couldn’t be more than three feet tall. Her long blonde hair, petite frame and cowboy attitude were stereotypically Australian, along with her drinking habits, which rivalled Mac’s. He had only known her a few days, but she seemed fun enough to be around and Mac suspected that she would ultimately cost more to run than the boat, but that didn’t really matter. It meant Mac could concentrate on having fun, which was, after all, the main reason for purchasing Aeon in the first place.

Alice almost skipped across the deck to the waiting table of food without even considering introducing herself to the others, grabbed a plate and started piling it up. Karl watched this slip of a girl piling generous amounts of food on her plate, unsure whether to make comment or not, but decided to test the water.

Are you going to eat all of that yourself? he asked politely.

Fuck no, she replied, looking up from the buffet, half of this is for the ships cat, she said this with a broad, slightly exaggerated Australian accent.

You have a cat? replied Karl.

"No, she replied. Much too hard to train them to snorkel." She popped a large prawn into her mouth and began to chew loudly.

Karl didn’t know how to reply to this and half opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Want some? asked Alice still chewing and shoving the plate almost under his nose.

No, no thank you, coughed Karl stiffly, retreating to a safer distance from this unusual girl.

Alice sat on another section of sofa, legs up and crossed with the plate of food on her lap, and from a small