“The Orb is a deep-sea research habitat capable of supporting a crew of ten members on five separate levels,” he told them. He pulled up an image on screen. “It will also be your home for the next few days. As you can see, a narrow staircase provides access to each deck. Decks one and two are berthing quarters. Each of you will be assigned a bunk and a locker where you can store your personal items. The middle deck features a small mess with tables and chairs. Two microwaves will allow you to heat up the pre-prepared meals we will provide you with. The lower two decks will house a comms room and science lab.
“The Orb has two airlocks. The first is where the submersible will dock. The second leads to the structure. As we speak, Navy divers are beginning the process of pumping water from the porthole. A series of micro-ROVs sent into the structure have revealed a chamber no more than ten square feet. Within the hour, the last of the water should be pumped out and the Orb secured in place.”
Jack spoke up. “What if we run into a problem and need to evacuate?”
“In the case of emergency,” Sanchez informed them, “the Orb can be manually released from the airlock connecting it to the USO. Compressed air will then fill a series of ballast tanks and bring you to the surface.”
The captain then flicked to the image of a man in a baggy suit. “While on board the Orb, you may wear your regular clothing. However, specially designed biosuits must be worn within the target structure at all times. Failure to comply may result in cross-contamination or death.”
Dag, his brain filled with endless knowledge on dinosaur bones, looked worried. “Cross-contamination?”
Grant, the biologist, jumped in. “It’ll prevent us from leaving our microbes behind and mucking up any data we collect. The real question is, after millions of years on the bottom of the ocean, have any alien bacteria even survived?”
Gabby crossed her arms and held her elbows. “I’m starting to think this was what Stephen Hawking meant when he said we might not survive first contact. Didn’t the Europeans wipe out millions of the native population with pathogen-carrying blankets?”
“What about the air?” Dag asked. “Once we’re on board, will we be able to breathe?”
Rear Admiral Stark popped back up. “We’re not sure yet, but your suits will be able to monitor air levels. Regardless, you’re advised to keep your helmets on at all times.” A cough from the back of the briefing room drew Stark’s attention. “Oh, yes, there’s one more member of the team I should introduce you to.” Stark raised a hand and waved someone forward from the back of the room. All present shifted in their seats to see who it was. From out of the shadows, a thin man in his forties emerged, wearing a dark suit that was last in style sometime in the mid-nineties. His thinning hair was parted in the middle and combed flat on either side of his skull.
“This is Dr. Eugene Jarecki,” Stark said, a note of reluctance in his voice. “A theoretical physicist sent to us compliments of Uncle Sam.”
Uncle Sam was code for the government, which in turn was code for bureaucracy and red tape and meddling. At least that was Jack’s reading of the pained expression on the rear admiral’s face.
“Greetings,” Eugene said, drawing his hand in an arc before him. “You can call me Gene or Doctor Gene, whichever you prefer.” He was a soprano with blocked sinuses. “I’m here from the Office for Outer Space Affairs.”
An air of bewilderment filled the room.
“That sounds made up,” Dag blurted with typical Swedish bluntness.
Eugene’s eyebrows flickered with resentment. “I can assure you the office is very real. We are located on Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, D.C.”
“Well, it certainly doesn’t get more governmental than that, does it?” Grant said.
Scanning the room, Jack registered the mood before speaking. “I think we were all expecting the men in black. At the very least, a couple guys in dark suits with threats that if we spoke a word of what we saw we’d be made to disappear.”
Before Eugene could respond, Gabby piped in. “Exactly how many people are in the OOSA?” she asked, saying the letters slowly to make sure she got the acronym right.
“Uh, only me,” he said. “But you see, after Project Blue Book wrapped in sixty-nine, our government was pretty much done with the subject of aliens.”
Jack shook his head in disbelief. He knew that Blue Book had been convened as a public relations gig designed to dampen the UFO hysteria rampant at the time. The major concern back then was that the lines of communication were being clogged with wild claims of UFO sightings and encounters, the same lines that needed to remain clear in case of impending Soviet attack. Could it really be that the US government thought so little about our chances of encountering an alien civilization that they had an office staffed by one person? Could the stories of secret cover-ups and captured spacecraft have been little more than an urban myth? Jack had never pretended to be particularly well-versed on the subject, although by the same token, he’d never considered everyone in the UFO community a complete nutjob. Many were, no doubt about it, but more than a few had seemed reputable. Jack had to admit he was rather disappointed. If nothing else, the sad state of the OOSA only reinforced the idea that in more ways than one, they truly were entering uncharted territory.
“All right, folks,” Stark cut in. “Hate to break up the party, but the submersible dives in an hour, with or without you.”
Chapter 17
As ordered, Jack and the others returned to the rig to assemble any gear and scientific instruments they would need for their time on the Orb. He had no sooner stepped off the helipad than a deckhand approached him.
“Doc, a call came in over the sat phone from a Gordon LeMay. Said it was urgent.”
Jack sighed, feeling a cold dread settle over him. Something was wrong. In the five years they’d been working together, Gordon had never once called him in the field. Had there been an accident at the farm? Had the property been foreclosed on? Moving quickly, Jack made his way down the walkway and into the superstructure. Three stories up was his cabin. When he arrived, he dug in his pocket for the key, only to find the door unlocked and slightly ajar. That was strange. He never left his cabin open. Right away he dialed the general frequency on the rig to ask if anyone had been in his cabin. A few voices came back informing him they weren’t aware of anyone doing so.
With growing concern, Jack pushed his way inside. There he found what looked like the aftermath of a category five hurricane. Picture frames and possessions had been thrown from every surface and sent crashing to the floor. His dresser drawers had been removed, the clothes dumped into small peaks and valleys at his feet. Even his mattress had been upended. Jack kicked at a pile of t-shirts by his feet and swore.
The toe of his boot struck something hard mixed in with his clothing. He reached down and scooped up his smartphone, the one he turned off whenever he was on an expedition. A moment later, he found his wallet, eighty bucks in crisp twenty-dollar bills still tucked inside along with bank and credit cards. Whoever did this hadn’t been after money or electronics. Their motivation seemed clear enough. They wanted info on the alien object. But who? Admiral Stark was the first name that came to mind. Could this have been his navy goons, the VBSS (visit, board, search, and seizure) team that had stormed aboard earlier? A not-so-subtle attempt to get their hands on the digital packet Jack had said he’d sent off for safekeeping? Jack hadn’t been in his cabin since the morning, which gave whoever had carried this out plenty of opportunity to rifle through his belongings.
The veins in his neck bulged with anger as he set the mattress back on his bed and dialed Gord on the sat phone.
The vet and caretaker answered on the first ring.
“I’m guessing you have more bad news for me?” Jack asked, removing his ball cap and rubbing his temples with his left hand.
“I thought you should know. There’s a problem with the pigs,” Gord said, cutting right to the chase.
Normally slicing
off the fat was just the way Jack liked it, but given the situation, he could have used a gentler lead-in. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with them?”
Gord grunted, his deep voice reverberating clearly over a bad line. “Not sure. I’ve quarantined Harold and a handful of others, just in case it’s some sort of virus. Problem is, their symptoms are all over the place.”
Jack set his cap back on snugly. “I don’t understand.”
“Frankly, Jack, neither do I. See, I found Harold lying on the ground squealing like mad. Turns out he had fractures in both of his front trotters and three of his ribs. Figured that last bit must have happened when he fell over. But I can’t make sense of what caused it. The flesh on two of the others, Betsy and Tommy, is all red and swollen. Looks to me like a nasty sunburn. Then this morning I found Jezebel walking straight into the fence post, over and over, like she intended to walk right through it.”
Jezebel was a bright sow, maybe the smartest on the farm. She could understand about a hundred commands. “What about the horses and the llamas?”
“The other animals seem fine so far,” Gord replied. “I been feeding and taking good care of ’em, like always. I’m sorry, Jack. I wish there was more I could tell you.”
“I understand. Listen, I’d tell you to call a vet, but you were one of the best in the county. Keep an eye on them. I may be out of touch for a few days. Oh, did you find the money in the safe?”
“I did,” Gord said. “And used it to fend off the bank and pay the farm hands. But we were still short. I just hope those two boys don’t run off on me now. Not when I need them the most.”
Jack felt the walls closing in on him. On the one hand, he was about to literally go where no man had gone before. On the other, he could only watch helplessly as his home and everything that gave his life meaning melted away.
‘You still there, Jack?”
“I am, Gord.”
“Believe me, I hate to burden you with all this bad news.”
“It’s not your fault,” Jack assured him. “Soon as I get a chance, I’ll send more money.”
“You folks found that meteorite you were looking for?”
Jack smiled. “You could say that.”
“That’s no small feat. I’m sure your father, wherever he is, would be proud.”
Looking down, Jack saw that he was rubbing his fingers again. The pads were growing red and tender. This was no time to relive the past and so Jack simply agreed with Gord and told his friend to take care.
•••
Jack tossed a few things into a bag, and then piled everything else onto his bunk. Ninety-six hours from now—as Stark had made clear—he would return and sort everything out. Jack returned to the helipad to find Billy Brenner, along with a handful of scientists and deckhands, loading up the Navy chopper. Much of the scientific instrumentation had been packed inside boxes labeled “Delicate” and “This Side Up”. But they’d be spending the next few days in the cramped confines of a tiny habitat five hundred meters beneath the sea. Fancy as it was, a thermal cycler didn’t keep your breath fresh or your armpits from stinking up the joint. When you were living in tight quarters, personal hygiene was vitally important. Ask any astronaut who spent time aboard the ISS (International Space Station).
As the resident astrophysicist, Gabby couldn’t agree more. She saw the shaving kit under Jack’s arm and motioned to her own. The two of them climbed on board. Both helicopter doors were open and when Jack glanced to his right he could see their next destination, bobbing less than a hundred yards away, the USS Grapple. Dag, Grant, Rajesh and Anna boarded next, settling into the seats that remained.
“I forgot how much you hate flying,” Gabby professed. “You look like a schoolboy waiting at the principal’s office.”
Jack tried to grin, but the muscles in his face weren’t cooperating. He clenched his fists and let go, watching the blood pooling back into his palms.
“Is something else the matter?” she asked, worried.
In the cockpit, the pilots were running through a final round of checks.
Jack shook his head. He had no intention of talking about the break-in. That was squarely between him and Rear Admiral Stark. And as for the problems on the farm, discussing subjects for which there was no clear solution would only leave him feeling worse about the whole damn thing. Instead he decided to redirect the conversation.
“How’s your mom?” Gabby’s mother was nearly eighty and recently diagnosed with lung cancer. To the doctors, it hardly mattered that the woman had never smoked a day in her life.
The light in Gabby’s eyes faded a little. “She’s strong as ever. With a lot of arm-twisting and a touch of luck, we got her into a promising clinical trial over at Mount Sinai. We’re hoping it’ll buy her a few more years.”
Gabby’s mother was not only her parent, she was Gabby’s whole life. After her father’s death in a car accident thirty years earlier, Gabby had forfeited anything resembling a personal life in order to keep her mother company. They were more than mother and daughter, they were best friends, something Jack’s own fractured past had never enabled him to fully understand.
“And what about you, Gabby? Maybe it’s time you had a life of your own.”
“I do have a life,” she countered quickly. “Through my work and my hiking.”
“I’m talking about a husband,” Jack pushed.
Gabby scoffed. “I’m in my mid-fifties. You know what the dating scene is like for a woman my age? We’re looking for someone to spend time with while most men are hunting for a supermodel.”
“You’re not sad you never had kids?” he asked. It was a touchy personal question, but Jack was asking himself just as much as he was asking her.
She regarded him and then looked away. “It’s funny how you can know someone for ten years only to realize you know so little about them.”
She was talking about their decade-long friendship, but she might as well have been talking about Jack and the secrets he kept even from those he considered close friends.
“I grew up in a small town in Nebraska,” Gabby said, apparently willing to share, “where you obeyed your parents and above all your God. The rules were quite simple, but for some reason, I had a real hard time following them. Met a boy in my senior year of high school and did something we had no business doing. There was no such thing as sex ed back then.” She clasped her hands together. “Anyway, a few months later I realized I was pregnant and all hell broke loose. Imagine me at sixteen taking care of a little baby. Even back then I had dreams of becoming a scientist. Suddenly all that was gone.”
“I never knew,” Jack said, placing his hands over hers.
“How could you? I was sent away to Smith Falls for eight months. The plan was for me to have the kid and then give it up for adoption. There were other, more practical reasons for my disappearance though. My father didn’t want the neighbors talking. My mother reluctantly went along. As much as I hated my father’s reasoning, I knew there was really no other choice. So away I went, and seven months later I gave birth to a baby girl. Only got a brief glimpse before she was taken away. The weeks leading up to the birth, I wanted nothing more than for the baby to be out of me. But you see, all that changed when I saw her beautiful little face. Suddenly, all those bad feelings disappeared, just as the cramps and the pain had faded away.”
“Did you ever try to find her?” Jack asked. “Reach out?”
The whine of the motor began, the rotors turning in a slow circle.
“Last year I started the process. It took months of research and mounds of red tape before I found out she lived somewhere on the West Coast and had a family of her own. But she declined to meet.” Gabby’s eyes glazed over. “Can’t say I blame her. The choices we make.”
She was lying to herself, but Jack let it go.
“Life is a series of choices,” she said reflectively. “An endless array of yeses or noes. If I’d said yes to the baby, I probably wouldn’t be
here now, about to dive into something no human has ever seen before.” The rotors kicked up a mighty racket as the individual blades disappeared from view. Gabby put her headset on and said one last thing. “What would you have done?” she asked him.
Jack lowered the mic to his lips. “Only someone who lived through it had the right to make that call.”
The chopper pushed off the landing pad and began the short hop to the Grapple. Slowly, Jack’s mind began to move away from the secret life Gabby had kept from him all these years. And further still from his own personal problems. His thoughts settled squarely on the metallic structure sitting in a pocket on the sea floor, an object which was sure to hold secrets of its own.
Chapter 18
The parking complex Mia and Ollie were hiding in was three stories high and in desperate need of repair. Sections of exposed rebar poked out from the crumbling concrete pillar he had pulled up next to in his Toyota four-by-four. He had brought her to the business district, a safe and more upscale part of Santarem, although safe was something of a misnomer. Slightly less dangerous was probably a more accurate way of putting it.
Mia glanced down at her phone. The ringer was off, but the number showing on the screen was the same one that had already called a million times since last night.
“Don’t answer it,” Ollie warned her.
“I won’t. It’s probably the police.”
He leaned over, studying the number. “It’s a local number, you may be right. Have you used your phone at all?” he asked, worried.
“A little.”
“I suggest you turn it off completely unless you want them to find you.”
Mia hesitated. She still hadn’t spoken to Paul or Zoey to be sure they were safe.
He reached over, took the device in his right hand and held down the power button. The screen went black. “This isn’t a game,” he told her.
“I know that, Ollie. But you’re asking me to cut myself off from the most important people in my life.” Mia’s voice wavered. Her clothes were wrinkled and smelled of fast food. “What if they try to call?”
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