by John Day
“No! No!” Ingrid shouted, “it is outside the sub, not inside. There are very high levels of radiation coming from the rock, we should pass through very soon,” she explained.
Joe Buck announced the news over the intercom and technicians in the control room switched out the detectors, reset normal level to the current background radiation and activated the system again. Within moments, the power surged back on as the reactor came back on line.
Tony Fry was responsible for nuclear systems and warned the safe time at this exposure was just a few hours. Somehow, they had to get away from here extremely quickly.
All the crew within earshot turned to Ingrid for answers, she was the geologist, she must know how long the danger would last?
Before she could reply, the Pilot called Bill Davis over.
“There is a large mass up front, coming towards us against the current, it is closing fast.”
“Are we going to hit it?” Bill cried.
“No! It’s going to hit us.”
“Steer away, then” ordered Bill. The Pilot tapped in the order to dive steeply, at his small navigation console. The huge vessel dipped at the bow causing everyone standing to grab support.
“The mass is dropping too and is on an intercepting course,” shouted the frightened Pilot; “I am going to full reverse!”
More commands through the console sent a shudder of power through the hull as the massive motors oscillated up to full speed, forcing thousands of litres per second of sea water out through the bow jets. Bracing themselves against the surge of acceleration, everyone near the monitors could see a decrease in the approach speed of the mass, but it was still closing on them.
Helpless to avoid the impact, everyone watched in fascinated terror as the mysterious shadowy mass took form and texture as it slowly got closer. The shape was roughly oval, one moment larger in width, then circular, then deeper. The poorly defined edges were constantly changing.
Now within 50 meters, the solid cloud had a pulsating texture; it was not a solid after all. At 20 meters, it dawned on the awestruck crew that the threat was no more than an enormous shoal of fish. The teaming, shiny black bodies writhed and darted, striving to get to the vessel before its neighbour.
“Slow down the motors commanded Joe Buck, they can’t hurt us in here!”
The Pilot brought the vessel to a stop and to maintain stability, resumed a forward ground speed of five knots. In an instant, the mass surrounded the sub, blocking out all visibility. The computer navigation system also became confused, the motors shut down, and the vessel started to veer off course.
A new fear swept through the crew as it became clear the fish were in a feeding frenzy, the meal was the submarine. The fish knew only one thing, this strange, sleek monster was injured, and the taste in the water was gourmet!
The occasional close-up of the fish revealed they were not a species anyone had ever seen before. They had long, sleek bodies, covered with a shiny black skin, like patent leather. Their mouths were large and cavernous, the jaws lined with a palisade of needle sharp teeth. Lures bristled around the mouth like antenna when they stopped, sweeping back flat against the body as they darted forward. Grotesque and ferocious, the evil creatures searched and glided sensually over the hull until displaced by others, wanting to follow the scent.
Bill Davis called out a warning. “We have lost control of the sub, the motors must be restarted on manual control so we can try and steer away from here!”
“We can’t see where to steer!” The Pilot called back. At the moment, we are being carried along by the current, the best I can do is remain parallel with the flow and hope we don’t drift into the rock face. I will need to go into reverse to keep our forward ground speed low, so I am restarting the motors!
A few deft taps with his fingers on the console sent power to the motors, but within seconds the straining sound and shuddering followed by instant shut down confirmed their worst fears. The propulsion system was clogged solid with the crushed flesh of the fish. They were going nowhere until the tubes were cleared, manually.
Hearing all the commotion, Max, Carla and a few others of the crew, made their way up from sick bay to see what was going on in the control room. When Joe Buck saw Max, he was surprised and somewhat dismayed to see him up and about.
“How come you are always around when there is trouble?” Joe questioned, with a sneer.
“Because you always let it get out of control,” Max snapped back.
Bill turned to Max and explained about the fish having jammed the propulsion tubes. “We need to clear them pronto because at any moment, we could be swept into the rocks at some twenty five knots. We cannot see to navigate with the fish all around.”
“What are they after?” questioned Max to no one in particular.
“Food!” Remarked Ingrid. “Perhaps the coating on the hull is attracting them?”
“Unlikely,” mumbled Bill, “It has been well tested in the real world, and no creatures go near it, including barnacles and weed.”
“One possibility springs to mind,” said Max quietly, as he looked at Carla. She gave a deep shudder as she turned to glance at the teeming fish.
“Oh God, no!” She exclaimed. “That could have been us.” She looked at Max for confirmation, he solemnly nodded.
“I believe they have the taste of human flesh, poor Jim to be precise. I am sure his air tank exploded and with all the blood in the water, they are looking for the body.”
“But that was miles back up the tunnel,” Joe Buck scoffed, “why hang around us? “
The Pilot had just made a rough mental calculation. He figured the drift of Jim’s body in the increasing current and the speed of the sub, would coincide with a position two miles further up the tunnel.
“The figures show it’s possible, but why are they swarming around us still?” The Pilot added.
“Jim Boswell’s body fluids are still adhering to the hull in the minute surface pits of the special coating,” said Max.
“The special texture is rough like shark skin and is designed to create a frictionless interface with the water,” Bill explained. “Perhaps some blood remains because it couldn’t be washed off.”
“Of course!” Exclaimed Max, loudly. “We now have tons of fish-paste oozing from the sub’s fundamental orifices, so until that is picked clean by those voracious scavengers, we are stranded!”
Max turned to Joe Buck and threw a question at him. “What do we do then Joe?”
The Senator flushed up, he could see no immediate solution and tried to consider the options. They had to get moving, the longer they drifted the more chance of a serious collision. They couldn’t start the motors with the blockage, and could not venture outside to clear it because they would be eaten alive.
If they could clear the blockage, then restarting the motors with the fish swarming around might cause another blockage.
Seeing no sign of an answer from the Senator, Max turned back to address everyone in the control room.
“What have we got on board that is toxic or downright distasteful to hungry fish? Can we discharge it into the propulsion tubes, so the crushed fish remains are no longer attractive to others?”
A technician replied with a brief list. “50 litres of diesel fuel from a mobile generator for arc welding, about the same amount of lubricating oil, though some will be needed for the sub to function for an extended period.”
Kate Winslow suggested various drugs and chemicals from sick bay.
Ingrid chimed in with a real downer to their rising hopes. “You might temporarily keep the live fish out of the tubes, but the sub will suck them in again when the motors start to draw water. The strong current will sweep away any substance you manage to get outside in a long, thin toxic stream, easily avoided by the fish.”
“What we really need is a mesh screen at the ends of the tubes, letting water in but fine enough to exclude the fish.,” Suggested Bill.
“Why is there no scre
en now?” asked the Senator.
“It creates turbulence which can be heard by detection equipment,” Bill replied. “Besides, it was never thought to be a real problem. Normal shoals are too thin in numbers to have any effect. The same probability exists with bird strikes in jet engines, it happens, but statistically a minor risk.”
The Senator grunted his disapproval with the reasoning, but said no more.
Could we build a screen, ventured Carla? Everyone, but Max looked at Carla with a mixture of disdain and amusement, what a bloody silly question, but then she was only a girl.
Max asked her what she had in mind. “If the grid could be fixed at the ends of the propulsion tubes, it would solve the future blockage problem. I overheard one of the crew or technicians say the propulsion tubes can be accessed through a service cover direct from inside the sub.”
Max pursued her line of thought. “What about the dead fish blockage and the live fish in the tubes?”
“Well!” she replied confidently, “judging by the voracity of the fish, I doubt much of the blockage will be left by the time we are ready, but perhaps it could be cleared by hand when you are in the tubes. More live fish can be excluded by the hydraulic covers at the ends of the tubes, while work inside proceeds.”
“There is at least one significant flaw with your plan,” said Max, smiling. Her face dropped.
“You said, when you are in the tubes.” There is no way I am going to let you near those fish, dead or alive, but otherwise, it could work.”
She grinned at Max; she didn’t mind that sort of a tease.
Bill made the observation that access could only be achieved if the pumping discs were away from the access hatch, otherwise the way would be blocked. As he spoke, he typed in a command to his control panel, the monitor screen displayed a schematic of the mechanism. “Only one disc was clear, the other was blocking the opening.”
“Can we run on one tube” asked the Senator?
“No!” replied Bill, “the levels of propulsion power we will need rule that out.”
“Well, we have got to do something!” Pressed the Senator.
“Can we make the grids?” Asked Max, trying to restart the discussion on a positive track.
“Yes!” said one of the reactor operatives, we have everything you need, and it can be made up as a push fit, for welding in place.”
“What about a personal cage that could fit around me?”
The young man looked oddly at Max and so did the rest of the gathering. “What do you mean he queried?” Not sure if he heard right.
“Because of the position of one of the discs blocking the access hatch, that grid must be fixed from the outside, because there would be no way out of the tube. You cannot be in the tube when the discs start moving, under power. If I had a shield round me, I could get to the bow and stern opening of the tube, by swimming along the hull. I could fix the grid externally, without being eaten alive,” explained Max.
“I am sure we could do something,” replied the man thoughtfully.
“But won’t you be swept away by the current?”
“I don’t think so; we are drifting with it at the moment,” replied Max.
“Is anyone prepared to come with me, outside, while someone else works on the other tubes from inside?”
No one moved, but all of them broke into a low murmur of excuses.
In an act of devilment, Max looked at Senator Buck, who withered in embarrassment at his gaze.
Unfortunately, others followed Max’s gaze and looked to Buck for leadership.
“I’ll do the inside, then,” he blurted, cursing his mouth, for volunteering him on the mission.
A technician said he would join Buck, as he knew what to do in the tube and how to weld.
No one wanted to go with Max though; the fish were still in frenzy outside. Carla knew Max would go anyway, even if no one went with him, so she said she would join him. She smiled weakly at Max, terrified at the prospect of those fish trying to rip the flesh off her.
The crew set about making up the grids and personal cage. Because of the restricted cover plate opening to the accessible tube, the pre-cut bars had to be marked for assembly and finally welded in position. If a bar broke loose later, it would certainly seize the mechanism.
The personal cage was more of a challenge, it had to fully enclose both people and allow the occupants to crawl or swim along the hull without drifting off. Limbs outside the close mesh would not be feasible with such vicious creatures searching for juicy flesh. The plastic hull skin was too thick to allow the use of magnets and too rough for suckers.
The team came up with novel protective suits for Max & Carla, made up of thin sheet aluminium, wire and grease all held together with an outer, overlarge wet suit. Thin copper wire was loosely wound over their bare bodies, then barrier cream and grease, then a wet suit. Next, carefully cut and shaped, thin aluminium sheet, formed the body armour. The joints were a stiff wire mesh, formed ball shaped, to allow full joint movement. Over this was another larger wet suit to hold things more or less in place. Grease soaked leather gloves, woven with wire were to be initially covered with metal cans during the swim along the hull, forming a tight fist kept them on. They would be discarded and dangle on strings when fitting the grid as full manipulation of hands would be necessary then. A head piece of mesh completed the first line of defence. Hopefully the grease would render the flavour of their bodies less palatable and form the second layer of protection. Finally, a connection was made to the innermost copper wire for a high frequency electrical device. The device was made from camera flash electronics encapsulated in epoxy resin. This created an electrical force field around them in the water. Their bodies were at zero potential and trailing external wires charged the water. As many sea creatures use weak electrical fields to find their prey, this ruse might disrupt this ability or give them a nasty shock, if they touched the circuit.
Even their air hose was protected from attack by flexible metal shower hose.
After being dressed Max and Carla climbed through the opening into the chamber, it was extremely difficult to move in the suits, but hopefully, in the water it would be easier.
As the water flooded the chamber, they were grateful for the cooling effect of the icy water, the hot water had been left a long way behind.
Holding each other close, the outer door swung open; the moment they were dreading had come at last.
Chapter - Unblocking the engines.
The other teams had their own fears and problems. The whole submarine had to be pressurised to match the water pressure outside to reduce the chance of leakage. The outer tube doors were never designed to seal perfectly at this depth, so flooding was a danger. With both ends of the propulsion tubes closed off by the hydraulic doors, air was pumped in to replace the water as it was pumped out. The cover plates, like small doors between submarine and propulsion tubes, were unbolted and hinged back, as soon as the water level was below the opening.
Time was critical, at any moment the drifting vessel might strike rock. Everyone knew this, but pushed it to the back of their minds while they got on with their jobs.
As the heavy cover plates swung clear, the team could see most of the fish trapped inside were still alive. Writhing and biting in the remaining shallow water. The Senator cautiously prodded the mass with a broom handle and his blood ran cold. The creatures bit and splintered it clean through. Now close to the fish, he could see they had powerful jaws, and teeth like a mature Moray eel. The water was still knee deep, and because the pump filters were constantly blocking up from the sludge of chewed fish bodies, it was not likely to get much lower. Although the propulsion tubes were 2.5 meters high, the team would have to work below the water level to fit some of the grid bars and weld them in place. Somehow, the live fish had to be killed off.
With the enormous supply of electrical power available, the plan was to electrocute the vicious creatures and end their threat to the team. A substantial cable
was run from the Main battery bus bar to the entrance of the tube. The charge would be 200 volts and hundreds of amps, enough current to burn out the muscle and nerve system of any creature it flows through, even boil the water locally if left on, for even a short time.
When the current was switched on, the writhing mass instantly and violently arched their bodies and opened their large mouth’s wide, in a grotesque spasm. All activity ceased in the fish, only the water boiling around the exposed cable end could be heard. Steam and smoke bubbled up through the water along the tube from the charring bodies; the stench was vile and nauseating. After 30 seconds, the current was switched off. A weak flapping and splashing could be heard towards the extreme ends of the tube, so another charge lasting a full minute was applied. Nothing stirred after that.
Quickly the team squelched their way towards the bow. So they could work, the dead fish were held back by boards, forming a small dam while they fitted the grid.
The moment the outer chamber door opened, the fish flooded in and swarmed around Max & Carla. Clinging together with terror, they waited for the creature’s needle sharp teeth to tear into their flesh. After a dozen or so random bites, the combination of tasteless rubber and grease caused them to lose interest. Realising this Max and Carla pushed up and out of the chamber. The fish no longer attacked, but were so thick neither of them could see which way to swim along the hull. Carla switched on her electrical device and immediately the fish within several meters darted away and kept their distance. The electrical field obviously worked well.
Keeping close to the hull, they swam to the bow and fitted the first grid.
The welding was tricky to master underwater, but no one was going to complain about the rough and chunky joint if the bars held. Max welded, whilst Carla kept an eye on the time and the remaining air supply. Although the first grid took more time than expected, the second one should be easier, they hoped.
By keeping close to the hull on their long swim to the stern, the pull of the current hardly affected them. Fixing the grid was going well now, and soon they would be back, safe inside.