The Black: Arrival

by Paul E. Cooley

  *****

  Nothing better than fresh coffee, Jay thought. Unless it’s a 15-year-old Macallan Fine Oak. He sipped from the huge Taz mug and turned as Marie entered the break room.

  Maeve and Kate sat at the table. Maeve had a glass of water. Kate sipped from her own cup of coffee. Their heads turned to follow Jay’s gaze.

  Marie stood in the entryway. Jay pointed with his free hand. “What happened to your hand?”

  She glanced down at the bandage wrapping her palm. A blush rose to her cheeks. “Had an accident with your cap puncher.”

  “Ah,” Jay said. “Yeah. I need to rework the design on that. I’ve done it before too.”

  “Did it feel like fire under your skin?” Marie asked.

  Jay blinked. “Um, no. Maybe some mud fluid was in the sample?”

  “Maybe,” Marie said. “The sample is ready. It’s hooked up and the vacuum pump is primed.”

  Kate grinned. “Thank you, Marie. Have a seat.”

  She entered the room and sat across from Maeve. Jay took a chair next to her. A paper spreadsheet was spread out on the table. The rows showed the tests to be run and their expected durations. Marie had already ordered them in an expected sequence.

  Jay barely glanced at the sheet. Marie had taken care of putting all this together yesterday and he’d studied it more than once before Kate arrived. He imagined Kate had studied it too.

  “I like this,” Kate said. “You did a good job, Marie, and I think we’ll run with it.”

  A shy smile lit Marie’s face. “Th—Thank you.” She turned to Maeve. “Hi, Maeve. How you doing?”

  “Great.” The teenager’s voice was a desultory monotone.

  Marie glanced at Kate. “Guess she’s not happy about spending the weekend here?”

  Kate shook her head. “Um, no. She’s being a brat.”

  “Brat,” Maeve echoed. “Right. Because what every teenager wants to do is spend their weekend here,” she said, hands encompassing the room.

  “Cut it out,” Kate warned.

  “It’s okay,” Marie said. “You know, Maeve, I used to spend weekends with my mom when she worked. Sometimes I even helped.”

  “Uh-huh,” Maeve said. “She make you do your homework too?”

  Marie’s eyes flicked to Kate and then back to the girl. “Of course. But I didn’t mind. Had plenty to read.” She pointed at the tablet on the table. “But you have that. And we have a fairly fast network. Bet you can stream to your heart’s content.”

  Maeve pushed a lock of hair from her face. “Yeah. That’s at least something.”

  “Plus,” Jay said, “I think Stevo keeps a console around here somewhere.”

  “A console?” Maeve asked, her face lit in a hopeful smile.

  “Yeah.” Jay chuckled. “You’re not the only kid who’s been trapped here for a weekend. Neil’s kids are here all the time. Especially lately.”

  “What kind of console?” the girl asked.

  “Don’t know.” Jay sipped his coffee. “I wouldn’t know the difference between a PS whatever or a X-thingie on pain of death. But I know we have one somewhere.”

  Kate looked at her daughter. “See? Not going to be so bad. Plus, our gracious CEO is making sure we have catered meals here.”

  “Cold cuts,” Maeve sighed.

  Her mother laughed and touched Maeve’s arm. “No, girl. Mike pulls out all the stops.”

  “Won’t be that bad,” Jay said. “I promise. I’ll email Stevo to help you get set up.”

  “Thanks,” Maeve said.

  The sour expression on her face had disappeared. Jay relaxed. The last thing they needed was for Kate to get distracted by her precocious daughter. “All right then.” Jay knocked his fist on the table. “Let’s get to work. Going to be a long night and might as well get started.”

  Kate grinned.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Haven’t heard you make a single Looney Tunes reference.”

  Jay’s mouth opened in a wide, toothy smile. “Night ain’t over yet.”

  *****

  The trio of chemists headed down the stairwell to the labs. When they exited through the secure door, the bright lights of the hallway made Jay squint. The lower floor of the building was more or less a large square bisected by the two labs. The chem lab on the west, the bio lab on the east. A wall of blast proof glass rose from floor to ceiling. Anyone in the hallway could peer through the wall and into either of the labs areas.

  Jay swung his head. Neil and Bill were already in the bio-lab. Rather than being outfitted in safety gear, the chief scientist of HAL’s bio-chem department wore a simple lab coat. His partner in crime, Bill Field, wore the same.

  Must be nice not to have to worry about explosions, he thought and then chuckled.

  “What are you laughing about?” Kate asked.

  “Just reminding myself how fun my job is,” Jay said. Neil, tall, pale, and bald, waved at him through the glass. Jay returned it. Neil grabbed his crotch and then turned back to Bill. Jay shook his head. “They hardly ever need safety gear. Just ain’t fair.”

  Kate punched him on the shoulder. “I think we have more fun.”

  “Only when we blow shit up,” Jay said.

  Marie hissed through her teeth. “Oh, let’s not do that again.”

  “Don’t worry,” Kate said. “I won’t ever let Jay near sodium again.”

  The trio walked past the bio-lab’s decontamination area and to the chem lab’s security doors. Jay glanced up at the camera embedded in the ceiling. A glowing red LED glared down at the heavy door set in the glass. Jay pulled his badge from his lab coat. Marie and Kate did the same. “Marie? Will you do the honors?” Jay asked.

  Marie placed her badge on the black card reader. It toggled from red to yellow. Kate followed suit and the yellow light began to blink. With a sigh, Jay put his card on the reader. The light changed to green and the door clicked. Kate grabbed the handle and pulled.

  A puff of air greeted them as the pressure inside the lab stabilized. The harsh tang of old chemicals greeted Jay’s nostrils. “Phew. Place never clears out,” he said.

  Kate grunted. “Let’s go. Mike’s not paying us by the hour.”

  Jay gestured toward the door and winked at Marie. She walked in the lab without a word. He put his hand out to hold the door for Kate. She shook her head.

  “Age before beauty.”

  Lips turned up in a sneer, Jay stared at her. “Genius,” he said, “before mediocrity.” Before she could reply, he walked inside the lab.

  Kate hissed behind him. “That kind of talk’s going to get you in front of HR, old man.”

  “Old man?” Jay chuckled without turning around. “That’s age discrimination.”

  A stainless steel table ran from just inside the glass to the other end of the room along the east wall. It stopped just before another wall on the north side. Shelves of flasks, beakers, test tubes, and other glassware were arranged against the back wall. Two large, tall cylinders rose in the middle of the room. On either end were several electrical instruments and LCD monitors.

  The west wall had another long, gleaming steel table with various electronic analyzers. Doors closed, his ears popped as the room re-pressurized. Negative pressure in the chem lab kept potentially dangerous vapors from escaping if a seal ruptured or the glass managed to crack.

  The negative pressure scenario always worried Jay a bit. If for some reason a cloud of say, H2S, escaped during distillation or sulfur concentration tests, the lab techs would be locked in with the deadly vapors, unless they could shatter the glass or escape through the door. That was bad. But the idea the cloud would follow them if they managed to escape through the door was even more terrifying.

  Jay watched Kate move to the computer workstation at the front of the lab. She sat down in the black, ergonomic chair, and pulled out her phone. She pressed the shift key, typed in her name and password. A dialog box popped up with the words “Enter Security Key.”
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  Kate’s fingers worked the phone until a number popped up on the screen. She typed the numbers into the box and clicked “Authenticate.” The screen flashed and then filled with icons.

  The “two-factor” authentication was annoying, but HAL’s commitment to security was one of the reasons companies like PPE used their services. In many cases, that loyalty made for exclusive contracts.

  “Okay,” Kate said. “Let’s go down the checklist.”

  Marie grabbed a small beaker off the shelf and headed to the sample dispenser. “500 milliliters?” she asked.

  Jay took up a clipboard from one of the stations. He looked down through the bifocal goggles. “500 ML,” he confirmed.

  Marie pressed a few buttons on the controls. The machine beeped. She placed the beaker on the table below the dispenser. She pressed another button on the control panel and a pump activated.

  *****

  It was trapped. It had no place to go. When the cap was punctured, it attempted to race upward through the steel pipes and gain leverage. But the vacuum prevented It from coalescing. At least It was in the dark, safe from Its enemy.

  When the pump started, It streamed through the metal and Pyrex pipes toward the spigot. It had no thought other than escape. But with each particle siphoned off, It lost cohesion. It slept in the pipes as Its intelligence was slowly ripped away.

  *****

  The electronic meter controlling the valve sent a signal. The valve opened and black oil flowed from the pipes. The first 400 ML of liquid rushed into the beaker. The sensors determined the amount dispensed and slowly throttled back the pressure. The sample’s final 100 ML dropped into the beaker in fits and starts. As the last ML dropped into the beaker, the meter closed the valve. A single droplet of black clung to the spigot. Marie reached out and tapped the metal. The drop lost its grip and dropped into the beaker. She smiled.

  “Okay,” Marie said. “500 ML.”

  “Good,” Jay said. He’d moved from the distillation towers and stood near one of the tables. Marie picked up the beaker with her safety gloves and joined him. “Now, Leaguer’s geologist, Sigler, claimed the API was insane. We just need to confirm it. Same with density and water content. Then we can get started on the fun stuff.”

  “I know,” Marie said. She stared at him with a blank expression. “I did write up the testing order.”

  He raised his hands and smiled. “Sufferin’ succotash, woman!” he said in Sylvester the Cat’s voice, “I was talking more to myself.” Marie blinked. Jay sighed. “Okay. I’ll stop micromanaging.”

  “That’ll be the day,” Kate called from the back of the lab.

  Marie chuckled and placed the beaker atop a black circular stand.

  Jay moved to assist and then stopped. “Marie? I’m just going to stand here unless you want help.”

  She grinned. “Stand there and watch. Make sure I don’t mess this up.”

  “Uh-huh,” Jay said. “Not likely.”

  The female chemist shrugged and dropped the temperature leads into the beaker. The metal ends disappeared into the black liquid. Marie turned to the digital controls. She pressed the up arrow until “75° F” appeared on the screen. She hit “heat.”

  The lab was kept cold to ensure certain chemicals didn’t reach flashpoint or ignition temperatures. In order to properly test crude oil, however, the liquids needed to be kept around typical room temperature. The only exceptions were heat tests and distillation. Jay watched as the digital readout blinked 68°.

  “You think Sigler is wrong about the API?” Marie asked.

  “It’s possible,” Kate called from her station. “Like I said, her testing equipment may not have been properly calibrated.”

  Jay sighed. “Exploration rigs. Notorious for slipshod analysis.”

  “If they weren’t,” Kate said, “we wouldn’t have jobs.”

  “True.”

  A bubble rose from the bottom of the beaker and popped when it reached the surface. Neither Jay nor Marie even noticed.

  The readout beeped and Jay’s eyes swung to the display. 72°. “This stuff heats fast,” Jay said.

  Marie nodded. “A bit faster than I expected. That’s for sure.” She looked over at Kate. “Light crude?”

  “Very.” Kate typed something into the computer and brought up a spreadsheet. She placed a finger on the screen and followed down the rows. “Got it. On par with the lightest stuff out there.”

  Jay and Marie traded a glance. “Well,” he said, “guess Sigler wasn’t so far off?”

  The machine beeped three times. 75°. Three bubbles popped to the surface simultaneously, the sound lost below the din of the air conditioning.

  “Let’s get the API,” she said. Marie picked up the hygrometer lead and put the bulbous end inside the beaker. The Pyrex sunk into the black liquid. Marie squeezed the plastic bulb at the other end. Oil shot up into the device. She pressed a button on a different control panel and waited.

  Jay and Marie watched the API display. The counter started at 1, but quickly changed. In a matter of seconds, the LCD strip read 30. It hovered there for a second, and then rose.

  When the display read “45,” Jay and Marie exchanged a glance. The computer controlled equipment let out a beep and the display flashed.

  “45 API,” Marie said. “Guess Sigler was—”

  A bubble popped on the liquid surface. The machine let out another beep and the number changed to 47. Then to 48. Then to 50. The machine beeped again and the reading stayed solid.

  “What the hell was that?” Jay asked. His eyes weren’t on the beaker, but staring at the machine.

  Marie shook her head. “Never seen that before.”

  “What happened?” Kate rose from her station and walked to them.

  Jay pointed at the gravity analyzer. “It just, well, it thought it was done and then changed. Also, something bubbled in the oil.”

  “Bubbled?” Kate frowned. “Temperature too high?”

  He glanced at the thermometer. “Still at 75°.”

  “Well, that makes no sense.” Kate rubbed her arms. “Final API is…” Her voice trailed off. The frown on her face disappeared into a flat line. “50? 50 API? Are you kidding me?”

  Marie shook her head. “There’s no way it’s that high.”

  Another bubble popped to the surface. “What the hell is doing that?” Jay asked.

  The trio stared at the liquid. The hygrometer beeped again and the three of them flinched. Jay chuckled. “Guess we’re supposed to take the reading now.”

  Kate shook her head. “Okay, so if it’s 50 API, I think we can rule out any tests for heavy oil.”

  “No, kidding,” Jay said as Yosemite Sam. “That varmint is about as light as it gets.”

  Marie nodded and pulled the hygrometer from the oil. The thick, black liquid clung to the bulbous Pyrex end. Marie gently shook the instrument and the oil drizzled off. The glass was clean. She frowned. “Did you see that?”

  “See what?” Jay asked.

  “It just seemed to slide off,” Marie said.

  “What do you mean ‘slide off’?” Kate looked closely at the hygrometer end. “That’s—” She cleared her throat. “Strange. There’s always oil left behind.”

  “Not this time,” Jay said.

  He took the hygrometer from Marie and headed to the hazard sink adjacent to the oil delivery system. With the device unhooked from its sensors and the analyzer, it was light and easy to handle. He placed it in the sink and started the water tap. He flipped a switch next to the faucet and heard the click of the glass and steel stopper popping into position. Jay pumped the cleaning fluid into the sink. When the foamy water swallowed the hygrometer, he turned off the faucet.

  Kate and Marie had moved the gravity analyzer and replaced it with a hydrometer to measure the oil’s water content. Jay walked back toward the station. Something burbled in the pipes above the dispensing unit. Jay glanced upward at the coil of steel leading to the metered faucet. A shi
ver ran up his spine. Air in the vacuum? That didn’t make sense. And why was the goddamned oil bubbling at room temperature?

  He shook his head and headed back to the other chemists. Kate tapped a few keys on the analyzer and the hydrometer shook in the beaker. Once again, clear glass disappeared as the instrument siphoned the liquid into its throat.

  The analyzer beeped and then hummed as it started to process the oil. Jay clapped his hands together. “I think we can cross off half the tests in the assay.”

  Kate nodded. “I think you’re right. All the heavy oil stuff can get dropped.”

  Marie waved a hand over the beaker and to her nose. She sniffed carefully and frowned. “This stuff doesn’t have any smell.”

  Jay raised an eyebrow. “No smell?” He moved closer to the beaker and did the same thing Marie had done. The skin on his forehead scrunched and he stood back to his full height. “Suffering succotash. Marie’s right.”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “Just because you talk like Sylvester doesn’t mean you have to spit like him.”

  “Sorry,” Jay said.

  “No smell. A ridiculous API. What is this stuff?” Kate asked.

  “I don’t know,” Jay said, “but I think it’s safe to say M2 has crude the likes of which we’ve never seen.”

  “Or heard of,” Marie mumbled.

  The analyzer beeped again. Jay looked down at its rectangular, LCD display. “Result: N/A.”

  “What the—” Jay said. “Ladies?” The chemists looked at him and then followed his finger down to the analyzer’s message. “You ever seen that?”

  Kate bit her lip. “I think ‘no’ would be the answer you’re looking for.”

  Marie growled in her throat and headed toward one of the computer terminals. “What’s the model number?” she asked as she logged in.

  “XJ-45C. Intac,” Jay read from the labels on the analyzer.

  Marie clicked a few keys and brought up the manual for the device. She quickly scanned through the documentation and then grunted. “N/A,” she said aloud. “Not applicable, of course. Means there’s either no water in the sample or a calibration error.” She knocked the steel table with a knuckle.