The CHANGI BULLET

Chapter 11 - Ding's Adventure

Inggrid and Farrah giddily sought out Cerys in her room and made her go laughing with them down into the warren maze of corridors in the basement.

'What are you girls up to?'

'You'll see,' giggled Farah.

'You're so bad.'

They emerged at the gymnasium, where Medina was trying to set up the badminton net again (apparently, Roach had walked childishly through it when he had been done with his exercise).

'No way!?' squealed Cerys. 'We're playing badminton? I love badminton. Hi there, Medina.'

Medina was in his sports gear of shorts and skimpy sweat vest, allowing Cerys and the girls to enjoy the vision of his muscles and the side of his ribcage. 'Hi, Cerys. I choose you for my team. Yay!'

'Yay! But I'm rubbish at it.'

'That don't matter to me.'

They played happily for an hour, or so, doing lots of falling about and high-fiving. Cerys complimented Medina on his physique and he said she was not in bad shape, herself.

'Have you heard of the game of baseball, Medina?'

'No, what's that?'

'It's a new game from where I come from. You have to hit a ball with a piece of wood, I think they call it a bat, and run around bases.'

'That's wacky!'

At the end of play, Cerys allowed Medina to pick her up in a big hug and spin her around. Then they all went off in search of cold beverages and a much-needed sit down.

'Everyone,' called Ari, seeking attention. 'Please, listen up, everyone...'

They were gathered for a general meeting in one of the lounges – discussing rules and procedures, answering questions; basically, a little morale boost before the big sleep (as Roach had started to call it) and then waking up in such a strange environment.

'This is Rizki,' continued Ari, introducing the shy man into the room of scientists and space veterans. 'He is our lucky lottery winner. Our final crew member. I hope you will all make him feel at home.'

There were delighted gasps and a whistle, with people swarming around Rizki to welcome him and make him part of the team.

'I thought you'd never get here, mate,' joked Roach.

'Congratulations,' offered Inggrid. 'Where are you from, Rizki?'

Clearly, neither she nor Petrik had any idea who the man was.

'I'm from Solo,' replied Rizki. 'On the island of Java,' he added, for the benefit of the non-Indonesians present. 'But I have dual-nationality and often live here in England.'

Professor Birney shook his hand. 'Welcome, young man.'

'What does it feel like to win?' asked Yuri, one of the Russian chefs.

'I still can't believe it. I love all things to do with space. I hope I can be a uselful member of the group.'

After that statement, he looked at Ari for reassurance, to see if he had said it right. From his seat, Ezra smiled to himself.

'Can you make tea?' called Cerys, to much hilarity, all round.

Ari was happy. Rizki had been introduced. Everyone seemed to accept him, despite him being the ultimate passenger. Now all they had to do was cross the universe together.

Cerys sat back down next to Ezra. She would interview the new arrival when everybody else calmed down around him. She and Ezra were drinking strawberry milkshakes that he had made up for them specially in the canteen.

'Have you recovered from the balloon trip yet?' he asked.

'Just about, I think.'

'Seems like a nice kid, our Rizki.'

'Yeah. Hey, where's the popcorn?'

'All packed up in my luggage, to go in the morning.'

'Are you nervous? I mean, after all the covert missions you've been on. Do you still get the moths in the stomach?'

'Of course. The trick is not thinking about it. Don't worry, you'll wake up. You'll survive the trip and you will report from a new planet somewhere.'

'The biggest scoop in history.'

They clinked glasses.

Ding Bingtao had a fairly uneventful microlight flight from Peking to Hong Kong. The weather had been calm. There had been one bird strike which cut his right cheek, but it didn't compare with something like the time he fell down that sinkhole in Australia. His millions of "watchers" avidly followed him, some obsessed with watching every single minute, live from his onboard camera.

Tiffany Chao and the other team members rushed to him as he put down in a Kowloon paddy field, just across Victoria harbour from Hong Kong. The Press swarmed around, keen for the best pictures. Ding milked the attention; he looked as fit and as fresh as the minute he had set off.

The journey had drained him, however. He spent two nights recuperating in his hotel suite, eating well, posting video content out to his "watchers", and chatting online to Wu Peng and Devi, separately, of course.

He got a massage, and swam in the hotel pool. On the third night he went out for a restaurant meal with Tiffany, where she finally pulled him up about having two girlfriends. It was something that had always bothered her, but perhaps, with him being about to leave the planet, it had emboldened her enough to speak up. There had been a time when she had wished for a romantic entanglement of her own with Ding, but realized that when he was on an adventure, she worried about him like a kid brother.

'Millions of men have two girlfriends,' he defended himself, grinning.

'Yes, but they rarely attempt to move them in together.'

'Tiffany, darling, I estimate that there's a ninety per cent chance of me dying on the journey, anyway. Worrying about how Wu Peng and Devi are going to get along is not high on my list of priorities at the moment.'

'I suppose not. If you put it like that.'

'Anyway, I wanted to thank you for being with me throughout it all. You've been my rock, down the years.'

'I'm your rock? Should I be flattered by that? Just get there, Ding. Just get there safe, for me.'

Then he was ready for the second, sea leg of his journey. His kayak had been stuffed with supplies, he had his compass and life preserver. He also had a satellite phone to summon help, but he was very loathe to do that on his final big adventure. He set off early in the morning from the Hong Kong harbour, with thousands of members of the general public watching on and Press men following so far on hired fishing boats. Then he was free to enjoy it all just by himself.

There was the occasional oil tanker, but, overall, there was just joyous isolation. He kept up a running commentary for his "watchers". He was quiet during the night hours, keeping going by his compass. He hummed his favourite tunes to help stay awake. By the middle of the next day's afternoon, he was approaching the coast of Vietnam.

He was updating his "watchers" on his progress when his camera suddenly died. Exasperated, he stopped paddling, shipped his oar, and leaned forward to fiddle with the bloody camera. He couldn't let down his "watchers", especially with the momentous landing in Northern England still to happen. He continued to twiddle with the thing, then resorted to hitting it. He decided to keep paddling. Maybe it would come back on soon of its own volition. He determined to regain his happy mood. The weather and sea conditions had been fortunate; he was on schedule, all was well.

Ding was completely unaware that five hundred feet below him, a Russian mini-sub was shadowing him. Once the captain of the four-man craft was informed that Ding's camera had been immobilized, he gave the order: the Second Officer fired off a small torpedo that homed in on the bottom of the kayak, totally obliterating all trace that Ding Bingtao had ever been there.