Free Noah's Ark: Encounters by Harry Dayle

had already left, leaving just the hard-core factions for and against integrating the possible new survivors to repeat their same arguments over and over, just using slightly different words each time. But even the most dedicated of these were not going to miss their dinner, so as the restaurants opened, the people left the theatre in dribs and drabs.
    Max sent half his security team off to patrol the restaurants. Mealtimes always included such a presence. The other half rounded up the stragglers in the theatre and escorted them out.
    Grace Garet had finished her shift for the day, and was free to leave and find her own meal. According to her ration card she was assigned to the Pytheas Restaurant, and had always dutifully taken her meals there. So had anyone accompanied her as she left the theatre, they might have been surprised to see her head directly for the Colaeus Restaurant. They would surely have been taken aback when, instead of queuing to collect a plate of food, she positioned herself at the end of the counter. But nobody had accompanied Grace; she hadn’t any friends among the security team.
    Grace stopped every person as they arrived at the head of the queue, before they were served their evening meal.
    “Good evening, sir. Security spot check. Can I see your ration card please?”
    “Evening, madam. Security check. I need to see your ration paper. Thank you.”
    Her uniform provided automatic authority, and most people willingly handed over their documents without challenge. One or two asked her why the need for an extra check when the serving staff already looked at the ration papers, but she just kindly and firmly reminded them that vigilance was a virtue. If that didn’t work and they pushed her further, she would ask nice and loudly if they perhaps had something to hide, a strategy that had an excellent rate of success.
    Elizabeth Lethbridge spied her from behind the counter, but was, thankfully, too busy to leave her post and come asking awkward questions about why exactly Grace was there, and why nobody had told the supervisor about this extra security presence.
    The same could not be said for Rupert Bembridge, one of the security personnel assigned to patrolling the Colaeus that evening. Before the asteroid, Rupert had been an officer in the London Metropolitan Police. He and Grace had never seen eye to eye; the cultural chasm between them was just too deep and wide to cross.
    “Garet! What are you doing here? This isn’t your shift. I’m running this patrol and you are most certainly not part of it.”
    Grace eyed the man. He was about her age, and — like most Brits in her view — was far too uptight for his own good. His clipped hair and clipped accent both annoyed her, although she couldn’t say why. The fact he got on so well with Max didn’t help, she knew that much.
    “Bembridge. For a cop, you’re not very observant, are you? I’m checking ration papers.”
    “Don’t get smart with me. I can see what you are doing. I want to know why. You’re not even on duty.”
    “We’re always on duty. Didn’t you learn that in police school?”
    “We’re not police. I’ll ask you again, why are you holding up this queue?”
    “I’m not holding anyone up. You’re doing that, by preventing me from working. Excuse me, sir? I need to see your ration card. Spot check. Thank you.”
    Bembridge exhaled noisily, his cheeks turning pink. “I haven’t been told about any security checks.”
    “Perhaps Max doesn’t think you can manage the extra work?”
    “Right, that’s it. I’m calling Max. We’ll put a stop to this.” He reached for his radio, unclipping it from his belt.
    “Rupert!” Grace jerked her head, indicating her desire to talk to him privately. He gave her a sideways look, but obliged, pushing his way through the line of diners. She spoke quietly into his ear. “Listen, this is a special op, okay? A stakeout. I’m looking for someone.”
    “Special op? Are you for real?