Snippet #1560780

The lamp-heated breakfast selection could scarcely have looked less appealing, regardless of the fact that it had only just been laid out. Somia wrinkled her nose as she attempted to identify each culinary component...of which perhaps half were recogniseable. But, she told herself for the five hundredth time this week, beggars can't be choosers. Yes, but they can be complainers! And I'm no beggar...

She set her tray down and fixed her eyes on the gormless middle-ages man ambling around behind the counter, and was about to open her mouth when the crackly tannoy came on, making an announcement that the ferry would be arriving in St Petersberg passenger port in roughly half an hour. Finally! They'd arrived. It had been the longest week of her life.

With her mood improved slightly, she loaded up a plate with a modest portion of whatever looked roughly edible, and strode over to one of the plastic cafeteria tables. Her heels ticked loudly on the vinyl floor, reverberating out into the forward viewing lounge which was currently occupied by only a handful of passengers. It was, after all, a little after 6am.

Sitting down, she cast a cursory glance towards the window, wondering whether she's be able to see St Petersburg. She could definiely make out a land mass, but what caught her attention most was the ominous spread of dark cloud which seemed to have no end. That figures. Setting her knife and fork demurely to one side, she pulled her smartphone from her pocket and tapped on the AccuWeather app. A progress ring rotated for a few seconds before returning the same error she'd been seeing for the last three days; Packet data not availble.

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Rüdiger exhaled smoke in satisfaction from the upper deck balcony. The announcement was good news to him also, though he had rather enjoyed the entire voyage. It was like being back on the frigates, except there were almost no rules to obey, you could sleep as much as you wanted, and best of all, there were women on board. Granted, they were great in neither quantity nor quality, but as the old English adage went, "any port in a storm". On that basis he'd secured himself a couple of conquests that week. It helped to pass the time, and he saw it as a bit of 'light training' for what escapades awaited him in Moscow...

The mainland approached up ahead, shrouded in stormy clouds. But as he looked, it struck Rüdiger how he could see only one other vessel in view anywhere; looked like a commercial freighter, heading towards the same port. He'd imagined that St Petersberg would be a lot busier.

Standing upright, he flicked his cigarette over the side, not much caring if he was seen doing it. What would they do? Throw him overboard? He looked at his watch. No particular reason why...he had his backpack with him, nothing was back in his cabin that needed to be picked up. As soon as they docked he intended to be the first off this tub and onto a train for Moscow.