by Robin Cook
The submersible began to shake with a low-frequency vibration.
“Arak, what the hell are they doing?”
“I don’t know,” Arak said. “Maybe they are about to draw us up into their air lock.”
“Harvey, do you have any idea what’s going on?” Donald demanded.
“Not the slightest idea,” Harvey said. Like the others he was holding on to the sides of his seat to keep from being thrown out of it. The vibration was increasing.
Donald snatched the Luger and pointed it at Arak. “Contact these bastards and get them to stop whatever they are doing! If not, you are history.”
“Look,” Perry called out, pointing to the side-scan sonar display. “You can see an image of the craft. It looks like a double-layered saucer.”
“Oh, no!” Arak exclaimed when he saw the new image. “It’s not an interplanetary ship! It’s an intergalactic cruiser!”
“What difference does that make?” Donald yelled. The vibration had increased to the point that it was truly difficult to stay in their seats. The heavy steel hull of the submersible creaked and groaned under the stress.
“They are going to take us back!” Arak cried. “Sufa, they are going to take us back!”
“It is all they could do,” Sufa sobbed. “It’s all they could do.”
The vibration stopped with a jarring suddenness, but before anyone could respond, there was a tremendous upward acceleration. All the occupants were pressed into their seats with such force that, for the moment, they could not move or even breathe, and they were rapidly brought to the brink of unconsciousness. The inertial force was accompanied by a strange light that enveloped the submersible’s interior. In the next instant, everything reverted to normal except for a yaw, suggesting a wave action that wasn’t present earlier.
“My God!” Donald groaned. “What the hell happened?” He moved, but his limbs felt heavy and sluggish, as if the air had become viscous. But the effect lasted only until he’d flexed his joints several times. Then he felt normal. Instinctively, his eyes scanned the instruments. He was surprised to see they were reading normally. But then he glanced at the battery level. To his dismay, the gauge showed the batteries had been drained of what charge they had had, indicating the submersible was on the brink of losing power. Then he saw something else astonishing: they were in only fifty feet of water! No wonder they were being buffeted by waves.
Donald’s eyes shot over to the sonar display. The Interterran vessel, or whatever it was, had disappeared. Instead Donald could see that the ocean floor sloped upward. It appeared that dry land was a mere hundred fifty feet ahead.
The other occupants of the submersible were reviving themselves after the bizarre ordeal.
“I wonder if that’s what astronauts feel when they blast off into space?” Perry moaned.
“If it is, I’m not interested in going,” Richard said.
“It’s similar,” Arak said. “But not the same. Of course, you are too unsophisticated to recognize the difference.”
“Shut up, Arak,” Donald said. “I’ve had enough of you.”
“Indeed you have,” Arak said. “And you deserve your fate.”
“Prepare to surface,” Donald said. “We’re running out of power.”
“Oh, no!” Perry cried.
“It’s going to be okay,” Donald assured everyone as he used compressed gas to blow ballast. “We’ve got dry land dead ahead.”
The surge of the submersible increased dramatically as they came up and broached. While there was still a bit of power left, Donald frantically tried to get a LORAN fix. When that didn’t work he tried the Geosat. That didn’t work either. “I can’t understand this,” he said. He scratched his head. It didn’t make sense. “Somebody go up into the sail, crack the hatch, and see if they recognize where we are. We should be somewhere in Boston Harbor.”
“I’ll go,” Michael said. “This area’s my old stomping ground.”
“Be careful with this wave action,” Donald warned.
“As if I haven’t been in boats much,” Michael scoffed.
While Michael climbed the ladder up into the hatchway, Donald rapidly took everything nonessential off-line to conserve what little power remained in the batteries. But it was no use. The batteries were drained, and a moment later the lights went out, and they lost all headway.
Up in the sail they heard Michael crack the hatch. Pale morning light shined down into the darkened submersible. They could feel the humid sea air and hear the harsh but welcome cry of seagulls.
“That’s music to my ears,” Richard said.
“We’re just off one of the harbor islands,” Michael called out from above. “I don’t know which one.”
At that moment the submersible struck the sandy bottom with a jolt and began to turn sideways in the surf.
“We’ve got to get out of here!” Donald cried. “This thing is going to founder.”
As the secondary humans scrambled out of their seats, Arak and Sufa raised their hands and pressed palms lovingly. “For Interterra,” Arak said.
“For Interterra,” Sufa repeated.
“Come on, you two,” Donald yelled to the two primary humans. “This sub’s about to tip over, and when it does it’s going to flood.”
Arak and Sufa ignored him but instead continued to press palms dreamily.
“Suit yourselves,” Donald said.
“Someone bring up my armor,” Michael yelled down the hatch.
There was a mad scramble up the ladder, especially after the sub careened and a slosh of water came crashing down the hatchway. Topside everyone except Michael jumped into the surf and struck out for nearby shore. Michael tried to go back down the ladder but changed his mind when the boat heeled over completely. It was with some difficulty that he managed to swim free.
Harvey had to be helped in the wild surf, but everyone except the Interterrans made it to the steeply pitched beach, where they flopped down in the warm sand. Michael was the last to pull himself from the undertow. Richard teased him mercilessly about his sunken Greek armor.
The weather was superb. It was a mild, hazy summer morning. Warm sunlight sparkled across the water, giving an inkling of what its midday power would be. After the effort in the surf, the group was content to rest, suck in the fresh air, watch the gulls soar, and allow the sun to dry the flimsy satin garments clinging to their bodies.
“Now I feel sad about Arak and Sufa,” Perry said wistfully. The Oceanus had tipped over on its side and was filled with water. It was already farther off the shore than when they’d disembarked. The wave action was dragging it back out to sea.
“Not me,” Richard said. “Good riddance as far as I’m concerned.”
“It’s too bad about the submersible, though,” Donald said. “It’s not going to last long out there. It will probably end up on the bottom off the continental shelf. Damn! I was hoping to power it right into Boston Harbor.”
Just after Donald spoke a particularly big set of waves reared up. After they broke and the foam receded, the submersible was gone from sight.
“Well, there it goes,” Perry said.
“After our story is told I’m sure there will be a lot of pressure to salvage it,” Michael said. “It’ll probably end up in the Smithsonian.”
“Where are we?” Harvey asked. He pushed himself up on one elbow and looked back at the low, windswept island. It seemed to be only sand, seashells, and saw grass.
“We told you,” Donald said. “It’s one of the many Boston Harbor islands.”
“How are we going to get to town?” Perry asked.
“A couple hours from now there’ll be pleasure boats all around here,” Michael said. “Once people hear our story they’re going to be fighting over the honor of giving us a ride.”
“I’m looking forward to a nice dinner where I know what I’m eating,” Perry said. “And a telephone! I want to call my wife and daughters. Then I want to sleep for about forty-eight hours.”
“I’ll second that,” Donald said. “Come on! Let’s walk around to the windward side. Even from a distance a gander at old Beantown will do my heart good.”
“I’m with you,” Perry said.
The group got to their feet, stretched, and started hiking along the beach in the hard-packed sand at the water’s edge. Despite their exhaustion, they began to sing. Even Donald was drawn into the merriment.
Rounding a point forming the side of a small inlet, the group stopped in their tracks and fell silent. Not more than a couple of hundred feet upwind from them was an old gray-haired man clamming in the shadows. He had beached a moderate-sized skiff. Its lateen sail was luffing in the steady breeze.
“Isn’t this a happy coincidence?” Perry said.
“I can taste the coffee and feel those clean sheets already,” Michael said. “Come on, let’s make this old guy a hero. They’ll probably put him on CNN.”
With a whoop, the group broke into a run. The fisherman panicked at the sight of the pack of bellowing men charging toward him across the dunes. Dashing to his boat, he tossed in his pail and net and tried to flee.
Richard was the first on the scene, and he raced out into waist-deep water to grasp the boat’s transom and slow its progress.
“Hey, old man, what’s the rush?” Richard questioned.
The fisherman responded by releasing his sail. With an oar he tried to fend Richard off. Richard grabbed the oar, yanked it out of the man’s grip, and tossed it aside. The others ran out into the water and latched onto the boat.
“Not a very friendly chap,” Richard remarked. The fisherman was standing amidships, glaring at the group.
Harvey retrieved the oar and brought it back.
“No wonder,” Perry said. He looked down at himself and then at the others. “Look at us! What would you think if four guys dressed in lingerie came running out of the morning mist?”
The entire group broke down into giddy laughter fueled by exhaustion and stress. It took them several minutes to regain a semblance of control.
“Sorry, old man,” Perry said between chokes of laughter. “Pardon our appearance and our behavior. But we’ve had one hell of a night.”
“Too much grog, I suspect,” the fisherman said.
The fisherman’s response sent them off on another laughing jag. But eventually they recovered enough to convince the man that they were not dangerous and that he would be generously compensated if he gave them a ride into Boston proper. With that decided, the men climbed into the boat.
It was a pleasant ride especially in comparison with the tense hours in the tight, claustrophobic submersible. Between the warm sun, the soft whisper of the wind in the sail, and the gentle roll of the boat, all but the fisherman were fast asleep before the skiff rounded the island.
With a steady breeze the fisherman expertly brought the boat into the harbor in good time. Unsure of where his passengers wanted to be dropped off, he gave the nearest person’s shoulder a shake. Perry responded groggily to the prodding and for a moment had trouble opening his eyes. When he did, the fisherman posed his question.
“I guess it doesn’t matter where,” Perry said. With supreme effort he sat up. His mouth was dry and cottony. Blinking in the bright sunlight, he glanced around the harbor. Then he rubbed his eyes, blinked again, and stared at the surroundings.
“Where the hell are we?” he demanded. He was confused. “I thought we were supposed to be in Boston.”
“ ’Tis Boston,” the fisherman said. He pointed to the right. “Them there is Long Wharf.”
Perry rubbed his eyes again. For a moment he wondered if he were hallucinating. He was looking at a harbor scene of square-rigged sailing ships, schooners, and horse drays along a granite quay. The tallest buildings were wood frame and a mere four or five stories.
Fighting off a wave of disbelief that bordered on terror, Perry shook Donald awake in a panic, crying that something was terribly wrong. The commotion awoke the others as well. When they took in the scene, they were equally dumbfounded.
Perry turned back to the fisherman, who was lowering the sail. “What year is this?” he asked hesitantly.
“Year of our Lord seventeen hundred ninety-one,” the fisherman said.
Perry’s mouth dropped open. He looked back at the square-rigged sailing ships. “Good God! They put us back in time.”
“Come on!” Richard complained. “This has got to be some kind of joke.”
“Maybe they’re making a movie,” Michael suggested.
“I don’t think so,” Donald said slowly. “That’s what Arak meant when he said they were going to take us back. He meant back in time not back to Interterra.”
“The intergalactic ships must involve time technology,” Perry said. “I guess that’s the only way travel to another galaxy is possible.”
“My god,” Donald muttered. “We’re marooned. Nobody is going to believe our story about Interterra, and the technology doesn’t exist to prove it or for us to get back there.”
Perry nodded as he stared ahead with unseeing eyes. “People are going to think we’re mad.”
“What about the submersible?” Richard cried. “Let’s go back!”
“And do what?” Donald asked. “We’d never find it, much less salvage it.”
“I’m not going to see my family after all,” Perry cried. “We gave up paradise for colonial America? I don’t believe it.”
“You know, I’ve finally figured out where you lubbers are from,” the fisherman said as he readied the oars.
“Really,” Perry said, without interest.
“There’s not a doubt in my mind,” the fisherman continued. “You’ve got to be from that college up the Charles River. You Harvard fellows are always making fools of yourselves.”
GLOSSARY
asthenosphere A zone within the earth ranging in depth from 50 to 200 km; it is the upper part of the mantle (see below), situated directly below the lithosphere (see below). This area is theorized to be molten and yielding to plastic flow.
basalt A dark, almost black rock formed from the cooling and solidification of molten silicate minerals. It forms a large part of the oceanic crust.
bathypelagic An adjective relating to moderately deep ocean depths (2,000-12,000 ft).
caldera A crater formed by the collapse of a volcano’s summit.
circadian An adjective relating to a twenty-four-hour cycle.
dike A tabular rock formation arising from molten rock forced up a cleft or fissure and then solidifying.
dinoflagellates A type of plankton (see below) that includes many bioluminescent varieties. Dinoflagellates also cause red tide.
ectogenesis Embryonic development outside the womb.
epipelagic An adjective relating to the part of the surface ocean in which enough light penetrates to support photosynthesis.
foraminifera Tiny marine protozoans whose calcerous shells form chalk and the most widely distributed limestone.
gabbro A dark, sometimes green rock that makes up a significant part of the lowest part of the oceanic crust.
gamete A male or female germ cell.
globigerina ooze A cream-colored muck that covers a good portion of the deep ocean floor and is composed mainly of the minute skeletons of foraminifera (see above).
graben A fault block that has dropped below the height of the surrounding rock.
guyot A seamount (see below) with a flat top.
lithosphere The rigid crust of the earth; it includes the sea floor as well as the continents.
mantle An inner layer of the earth, between the lithosphere (see above) and the central core.
microsome Any of the various minute subcellular structures.
Mohorovicic discontinuity An area within the earth where there is a large change in the transmission of seismic waves. It is between 5 and 10 km below the ocean floor and about 35 km below the continents.
Pangaea A single continent that began breaking up in
the Mesozoic era by the action of plate tectonics to form the present-day continents.
peridotite A dark rock deep within the mantle.
plankton Microscopic plants (phytoplankton) and animals (zooplankton) that exist in such prodigious numbers that they form the base of the oceanic food chain.
Richter scale A method of expressing the magnitude of earthquakes.
seamount An underwater mountain usually formed by volcanic activity.
thermocline A relatively stable, abrupt temperature change in a body of water.
zygote A cell formed by the union of two gametes (see above) which has the potential to form a new individual.
SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY
Ballard, Robert, Explorations: A Life of Underwater Adventure. New York: Hyperion, 1995.
Ellis, Richard, Deep Atlantic: Life, Death, and Exploration in the Abyss. New York: Knopf, 1996. The illustrations alone make this a joy!
Ellis, Richard, Imaging Atlantis. New York: Knopf, 1998.
Kunzig, Robert, The Restless Sea. New York: Norton, 1999. An extremely well-written, enjoyable book that gives one a sense of the importance and breadth of oceanography.
Verne, Jules, Voyage au Centre de la Terre. Paris: 1864. (English translation: Voyage to the Center of the Earth. New York: Kensington, 1999.)
Verne, Jules, Vingt Mille Lieues Sous les Mers. Paris: 1870. (English translation: Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. Annapolis, Md.: United States Naval Institute, 1993.)