by Alex Gore
“Well, is it just me?”
“What is it, Alan?” Norman turned back to him.
“Can’t you see?!”
“See what?”
“The diesel engines, of course.”
“What about them. They seem normal enough. I guess if we start them they’ll be working even.” Norman put his hand on one of the units.
“They’ll be working, no doubt about that, but doesn’t it strike you? There are as many as four!”
“Alan, stop fucking with us and say what’s bothering you.”
“Nuclear submarines do not have diesel engines, Sir. They don’t need them.”
They went on to the cabins, that were separated from the passage with curtains. Norman lifted the first one and looked shocked.
Unlike the engine room, where everything looked new and unused, here the chaos was unbelievable. There were shoes and clothes in disarray on the floor. The bunks of the sailors were with cramped bedcovers, among which there were books, notebooks, packs of cigarettes, safety-razors, toothbrushes and miscellaneous stuff, used in everyday life. It looked as if someone evaporated people by magic and replaced them elsewhere, but not before a mortal combat. It seemed like the people left the cabins in real hurry and in a state of emergency. Or it might not be an emergency command, but they were in panic.
“I guess someone did not tidy up his room before getting out”, Alan observed.
“If this someone did get out of the room at all”, Hans said, having as usually his own version of events. He was crouching, almost kneeling on the floor, scrutinizing something with keen interest.
“Come on, Hans, there is nobody here, it is quite obvious that the crew evacuated in emergency because of something… They left the ship and that’s it. What is so strange about it?”
“Yeah, Alan, you are right as always”, said Hans ironically, “if you can just explain this.”
In a triumphant manner he held in front of Alan’s eyes a small black leather notebook with a cross on one cover, evidently a diary of one of the sailors. Alan took it and made a move to look through the pages, but there were no pages. All were torn out except the last one. He opened it and saw blurred but readable writing:
Hell is here, now. They were walking in depressed silence, seeing in their mind’s eye the messy cabin and the little black notebook. The grim sense of death and anguish prevailed. The initial enthusiasm at their coming in was replaced with a foreboding of evil, lurking in that metal coffin. Even Alan with his inexhaustible energy was quiet.
They reached the rear of the submarine.
One last metal wall separated them from the reactor. Norman carefully turned the lock and opened with ease the massive metal door. He entered first, but immediately stepped aside to let Alan through. He was the most knowledgeable about submarines and they needed his opinion first.
Alan passed through the low door with bowed head, then turned back, shouting excitedly:
“I told you! I knew I was right! There’s no reactor!”
The rest followed him inside one by one.
“Every nuclear reactor basically consists of active zone with nuclear fuel”, Alan started explaining, being in familiar waters. “There is a slowing down device around it, a carrier of heat and a system for regulating the chain reaction. I can see none of these elements here, just some queer apparatus. I’ve never on any submarine seen something like that. Frankly, I have no idea about its function.”
It was a large cylindrical chunk of metal, which traced the shape of the corps of the submarine. It was about twenty feet in diameter and there was a big opening in its center through which a bending person could pass.
“What the fuck is this?” Norman raised the transmitter to his face. “Bring the Russians to me now!”
For the first time since they were on board Hans seemed very interested and was observing the machine with curiosity. Obviously, he saw it as a super high-tech device and quite intriguing too.
Marcela was exhausted, so she sat on one of the generators to take a rest. She was emotionally overwhelmed and for the moment she had switched off, she did not think about anything at all.
Alan was watching Hans closely.
Ivanov and Sergey almost tumbled through the door one after the other.
“I need explanations. What is this?” Ivanov asked, sounding rather angry.
“That’s the Core, Sir”, Sergey answered promptly before Ivanov could stop him.
“The Core?”
“It’s the second major engine of the ship, Sir.”
“And why wasn’t I informed? Are there any more things of this kind about which I need to know?” Norman was seething.
“Yes, Sir… I mean, no, Sir… I mean, I’ll report to you in private right now, Sir. And no, I don’t believe there is anything else, Sir…”
Sergey was confused so he was rambling, while Ivanov watched dispassionately with a stone face.
Now everyone was examining the second major engine.
It looked like the lens of an old camera from the pre-digital age, when lenses with diaphragms were used. That was it, the eye of the machine reminded them of a diaphragm. Similar to those old lenses there were laminae that correspondingly made the lens narrow or dilated it like a human pupil, adapting to the different quantity of light. Around the eye twelve mirrors were placed, directed towards the center of the bottom that looked like a satellite dish. There was an electric motor at the base of each one, that seemed to be able to change their position and respectively the angle of reflection of light.
Meanwhile the sergeant and one of the soldiers wriggled through the narrow opening of the ‘diaphragm’.
In the room there were four huge energy generators on the floor, at least that was what the inscription on every one of them said – ‘Energy generator’ in Russian. Below there was a sign with an exclamation mark and a human skull and a warning also in Russian – ‘Danger! High voltage!’
Norman was just going to follow the Russians back to the cabin with the bunks, when the sergeant’s head popped up through the ‘diaphragm’.
“Sir, you might want to see that, I’m sure.” His voice sounded very agitated despite the formal military tone. He was trembling all over. “There is another room behind this one… You must come now… Sir.”
Everybody followed, squeezing through the opening. Sergey was the last to go and he offered his hand to Marcela although it was Hans who needed help more. Poor man could hardly worm his way through in the thick protective suit. They were in the last section, at the very rear of the submarine, in something like a loading room or a warehouse. It was a confined space because of the slanting ceiling in the tail of the big submarine.
The Cube.
In front of them the most amazing thing imaginable stood. They had never seen such beauty and perfection.
The Cube was placed on a throne of corals, growing right from the metal floor. Its dimensions were six by six feet, it had perfectly straight sides and angles and an indefinite color. It looked mirrorlike but it refracted light in a dull way and the reflections were somewhat different from the real objects.
Marcela, for instance, saw before her a face not so beautiful, surrounded by dark floating circles. She looked blurred, with deep dark shadows beneath her eyes and spots on the forehead.
Ivanov, on his part, was faced by a handsome distinct image in a halo of light. His reflection was young, like one, painted on a canvas by a talented artist.
However, Marcela and Ivanov both had the impression they were seeing not their own reflection but of somebody else. Somebody who resembled them, but came from a different reality.
From inside the Cube murky blue-greenish light streamed with slight pink hypnotizing nuance. If one looked at it for more than a couple of seconds, there was a feeling of one’s brain getting soft.
The entire group encircled the Cube and while everyone was gazing intently at it, Hans looked away from the perfectly smooth shining supernatural surface
to view the walls of the room they were in.
The corals, white and colorless, were everywhere. It was as if they were standing on the bottom of the ocean. Five of the six planes of the space were covered with corals, including the floor, running from ceiling to floor, covering almost the entire metal plating. Only the opening, through which they had come in, was not covered with corals. The reef formed something like a nest or an altar, exactly matching the form and the dimensions of the Cube, lying in that couch.
Hans brushed with his hand the place where the coral matter met the metal corps and said:
“Marcela, you’ve got to see this.”
“Yeah, it seems the organic matter is grown into the metal… This is very strange…”
“Didn’t you mention that graphene was built of carbon only and could be implanted in live tissue?”
“That’s right, but those corals were not brought from outside, they look as if they have grown from the ship itself. Look, some of them are half alive, as if they were forcefully dragged out of the water a few days ago, while others… See how thick their skeleton is, limestone is formed very slowly… and their color…” Her voice vibrated with excitement. “I bet they they have been lying in that room for centuries.”
“Take samples”, Norman ordered and looked at them inquiringly. “What might this be? That’s why you are here, come on, I need answers…”
“This comes from quartz with inner diodes”, Michael offered. “It’s cool, it must cost a fortune.”
“For God’s sake, don’t touch it and stay away from it… It might be dangerous…” Marcela had the sickening feeling of resentment, thinking how nice it would be to relax in a hot bath at home with a glass of wine.
“Come on, it’s perfectly clear this does not come from our planet. Don’t play dumb”, Alan remarked, returning to his usual self.
“Load it, I want it at the base. We are leaving”, Norman announced, not being able to calm down from everything he had seen. Like every military person who wanted to be perfect in his job, he did not like surprises. The Russians had obviously saved a lot of essential information in their initial reports and now he needed to call Washington.
“Please, Norman, don’t take it to the base! I don’t like this thing” Marcela implored, almost dragging Norman’s lapel.
“Gentlemen…” Hans started in his typical sardonic manner. “Norman, you can’t possibly take this thing with you now…”
“And why is that? What would stop me to do it?”
Alan slapped his forehead.
“Hans, you are right… But, of course…”
“Gentlemen, don’t forget this is not democracy here. You are under my command.” Norman did not get it.
“Norman, how wide is the manhole?”
“Damn it! You mean… Then how on earth did this shit come inside?”
Alan had already figured it.
“Yes, Norman”, Hans continued, “the manhole is not more than three feet wide, which is half the width of that pretty little cube here. And there isn’t any normal way it had been brought in the submarine through its entrance… At least not after its construction.”
Norman just raised his eyebrows and looked at the thing, trying to measure it mentally.
“There is more…” Hans had embraced the Cube, examining closely its surface. He was trying to lift it from the floor, but obviously its weight was a challenge for his fine arms of a scientist. “Look here…”
The two sergeants pushed the Cube on one side. Everybody approached to see what was written on the bottom side.
5=117
Day 3, 10:47 p.m. As soon as they entered the closed perimeter of the base, the Major announced thirty minutes leisure time and everyone went to his room.
Ivanov split from the main group and stealthily moved behind the big building next to the warehouses. The guard in front was lighting a cigarette when his replacement approached him. They exchanged a few words and each went his way.
It seemed he had luck tonight to pick the right moment. He almost crawled to the entrance and went in. Once inside, he looked around. For an experienced military person like he was, it was not difficult to spot the explosives. He had been dealing with Americans for quite a long time now and he was very well acquainted with their war equipment. He could count the sticks of plastic explosive, there were enough to blow up the whole place. Together with the goddamn submarine. His task was not to discover the secrets of nature, but to protect Russian secret military technologies and keep them away from the Americans. They were smiling at each other and were officially polite, yet he knew that on the battlefield there were no such things like mercy or friendship. His orders were to find out what he could and in no way allow the ship to be controlled by anybody else. He did not like Norman, this sleek and pedantic American. He resented Hans too, since he disliked Germans in general. They had given them a lot of trouble during World War Two. He knew all about this time from his father. Germans were not to be trusted. And this Sergey, a naïve scientist with his stupid physical inadequacies. Why was he burdened with him, he told them he could do it all by himself.
Ivanov took out from under his coat a big bag and started putting in it C4 plastic explosive, that he found in a crate. After the bag was full, he started back for his room.
He was walking fast, with wide strides. The large bag did not seem to bother him. At the same time he was scanning his surroundings. He looked up towards the guard in the watchtower, but he was too high up and was too busy to watch the outer perimeter of the base to notice him. There was nobody else around, they were all in the conference room because of those dumb figures on the bottom of the Cube. There was light behind the windows and dim shadows were seen. He noticed Norman’s tall slim silhouette. He was going to put away the explosives and go see what was going on.
Main room, day 3, 11:30 p. m. “How can we know who wrote this thing? It might be just a random scrawl. While they were sailing, somebody got bored and decided to write nonsense just to make fun of us”, Sergey was contemplating.
“What could it mean? I guess it’s some bullshit”, Michael was thinking aloud.
Marcela could not see any logic either.
“No way 5 could equal 117, don’t you think? It doesn’t make any sense.”
After the thirty minutes, allowed by the Major, passed, they were all in the conference room. They needed rest, but did not have any time for it, besides the questions without answers were flooding their minds.
They were practically lying on their chairs with exhaustion. The coffee in their cups had the pleasant flavor of their ordinary life far from here, reminding them familiar everyday moments amidst this surrealistic madness.
Marcela was sipping with pleasure the black liquid. The memory of what she had seen scared her deeply. She was used to face real problems and solve them with her typical martial spirit, but now she felt there was something unknown and out worldly, not subjected to human laws. Was it some secret Russian weapon or super evil from another place, which had killed people, men from her world, and in an unusual way, too. One thing she was sure of, whatever happened,
it was bad.
This was an unknown evil and it made her blood freeze in the veins.
The Major started the overview.
“What we know so far is that the entire crew has disappeared without a trace. We also found an object for which we scarcely have an explanation.”
“The inscription is not drawn or engraved on the surface of the object”, Hans interfered. “It is rather coming from inside the Cube, as if reflecting some inner programmed light. I assume it might change…”
“I suppose it could be a serial number or something of the kind”, Alan offered.
“We are waiting for the laboratory analysis of the surface of this thing, but with reference to its chemical composition I don’t believe we will have any accurate results” Sergey spoke.
“Do you mean we won’t be able to define what it is made of?”
Marcela exclaimed with disappointment.
“I am afraid that the smears we took with diamond droppers won’t show anything. This object won’t allow us to define its chemical composition.” Sergey seemed absolutely sure of his words. “Its surface is perfectly smooth and resistant to outer influences. I, for one, tried to scratch it with my key, but no traces were left. Absolutely nothing. Upon impact it feels both awfully hard and indestructible and soft and elastic at the same time, so it absorbs your force and does not allow being scratched. Imagine, you have a noisy neighbor who abuses you with allnight parties. You want to scratch his shiny car, parked in front of your building with the old key for your garage door. You pass one night and unnoticed by anyone leave a long fresh streak along the whole length of the black sports BMW. The very sound gives you pleasure of the sweet payback. The bad kid inside your head is exhilarated. On the next day you are overjoyed to see him from you window seething and swearing in his helplessness, having no idea at all who did this. But this thing here, no matter how strongly you try to enforce metal on it by piercing or hammering, nothing happens! The ultimate material of all time! The engineer’s and alchemist’s dream come true!”
Ivanov gave him a stern look but said nothing, just his forehead wrinkled even more.
“That would be super nice, Sergey, but now we have a task: to understand what the fuck 5=117 means”, Norman interrupted.
“There’s more”, the young Russian said. “I just looked over the data of microscopic measurements. The Cube is 6.66 feet wide which is exactly 2.029968 meters, all of its sides being equal with an accuracy of… err… I don’t know how to say it…”
“Which symbol after zero, please, Sergey?”, Alan asked, who cannot wait to hear.
“Well, as you know, we measured the object with a laser and then introduced the data to be processed. The computer did not find any difference at all between the different sides. I mean, none! Even in the millionth figure after the decimal point there was no deviation! Just zeros till the end of the fucking screen, the entire scale. This seems to be ‘the ideal cube’. I don’t know what to say, but at the moment there isn’t for sure any such technology existing on the planet, and I strongly doubt that we will be able to produce anything so ideal in the next thousand years.”