by Nick Thacker
She nodded, as if the man could see her as well. She had so many questions, though. So many pieces to this puzzle. Hell, she didn’t even know what the puzzle was supposed to look like. Mark squeezed her hand.
“Let’s talk about details. I know Carter told you where you’re heading, but he did not address any specifics. I’ve kept a few things to myself until this moment, but also understand that what I’m about to tell you may be completely irrelevant.
“It turns out that the base you’re heading to was a United States government-funded research station built in 1974, redefining the possibilities of modern undersea exploration. It was built on a geothermal hotspot, and that’s how it was powered. A desalinization plant was built next, an engineering marvel that allowed a team of researchers to stay for extended periods of time on-site. Finally, all of this was encased in a dome made out of a synthetic material that pushed against the immense pressure of the waters surrounding the station. There’s more to it than that, obviously, but I wanted you to understand the basics before you arrived.
“You’re going to be docking at the station around 1200 hours, as your captain tells me. There won’t be any surface light reaching to these depths, so you’ll be taking a slow, careful crawl around the dome’s western and southern fronts—the sides that aren’t jutting up against the cliffs of the Puerto Rico Trench. You’ll then find one of the two docking stations, and at that point you’ll dock, equalize the pressure in the sub’s holding bay, and then pump out the water from the station.”
Jen’s mind was racing at this point. A government research station located at the bottom of the ocean? One large enough to house people? And the fact that it’s still there…
She wondered if Durand was reading from a prompter screen or if he’d memorized these statistics. Either way, it was impressive, the scope of this project. Both the building of the base in the first place—over forty years ago—and the fact that they were supposed to revisit it today.
Then she remembered one of the first things he’d said—that the station was established to conduct geothermal research. That was her specialty ever since she’d started working with Dr. Storm. Maybe that had something to do with what the kidnappers wanted from her.
He wanted me to lend them a hand in the meantime. That meant that whatever this was about, her son was only a small piece of it.
“Also, we’re not sure how much this group, Nouvelle Terre, knows. We know that one of their members, Jeremiah Austin, at one point in time, was involved with some of the building of the research station. He worked with Dr. Mitchell Storm, the brother of the late Dr. Elias Storm. So far, that’s the only tie we have, but it’s a strong one. It seems like the organization wanted to get to Dr. Storm’s research by way of his brother. When that soured, they most likely went for Jen Adams, the next logical person who would understand what Dr. Storm was working on.”
She let all of this sink in. Dr. Storm’s brother was somehow involved. Someone who worked with this terrorist organization years ago, and now they want to finish the project.
Her boss, Dr. Elias Storm, didn’t know anything—or at least didn’t talk—and he’d paid the price for it.
They were using her. They took her son, and now she and Mark were on this wild goose chase together.
“I know what you’re probably wondering,” Gregory Durand said. “Why are you heading toward a research station at the bottom of the Atlantic? We believe that Nouvelle Terre is acting out in the interest of securing what they want quickly. Since the last we’d heard from them was immediately following the completion of this base, and with the close ties between the research performed there and what Nouvelle Terre’s all about, we think it might be a good lead. It won’t be the endgame. Reese is no doubt being kept wherever the organization’s headquartered. However—”
The monitor and speakers crackled and died. Carter looked toward the young crewman who had apparently set up the communication link, but the soldier shrugged. The screen turned to fuzz, the connection obviously lost. Carter looked unswayed. He continued delivering the speech, skipping to the end.
“My team will be joined by a few more civilians, all experts in their fields and certainly assets to the mission at hand. If, for whatever reason, Jen is unable to aid in locating whatever it is she’s here to find, these three people will jump in to assist. First, there’s Sanjay Pavan, who Jen will most likely recognize as the esteemed marine archeologist.”
Jen did recognize the name. Dr. Pavan wasn’t just a well-respected marine archeologist. He was the marine archeologist, the rare breed of expert who was as comfortable in front of television cameras and media moguls as he was behind a microscope. He was Indian-American, dark-skinned, and very handsome, which no doubt played a role in his fame. Before Sanjay, most people had no idea such a career as marine archeology existed.
How did I not see him?
Jen’s eyes wandered around the room until she found the short man standing against the back wall. His thick, dark eyebrows were curled—his signature look of contemplation—and he bowed his head ever so slightly when their eyes met.
“Also aboard, we have Lindsay Richards, an American geologist and oceanographer, and her understudy, Erik Statnik.”
Jen recognized Lindsay’s name but couldn’t picture her face or recall the university she was from. She found the woman—blond and plump—sitting at a table with the man she assumed was the understudy, Erik Statnik. Statnik’s features were as stark as Lindsay’s were soft. His rectangular, chiseled face and drooping eyes made him look years older than he must have been, and his crooked nose gave him a ghoulish appearance. Still, it was Erik, not Lindsay, who mouthed a “hello” toward Jen.
Another crew member ran into the conference area. “Sergeant Carter, sir, we’ve got a problem. The navigator’s picking up a signal about 1,000 meters from here.”
Carter frowned. “What kind of signal?”
“Sonar places it just slightly larger than our vessel, sir, and it’s heading directly toward us.”
At that, the crew members and soldiers spread throughout the room immediately leapt to their feet and assumed their stations. A few of the crew ran back to the bridge, no doubt involved in the sub’s operations.
Panic overcame Jen. Were they being attacked? She’d never been on a submarine before, and she thought the immense blackness of the waters pressing in on them was terrifying enough.
Carter looked at her and her husband. “Stay here for now. Everything’s going to be fine. We have no reason to believe—”
A loud snap followed by a wrenching, twisting sound reached their ears. Shouts arose from the depths of the sub, and Jen felt her stomach drop.
The sub lurched forward then back, and she almost lost her balance. She grabbed the side of a table nearby to right herself and looked up. Carter had already left the room.
“What the hell’s going on, Captain?” She heard Carter call out from down the hallway.
Mark reached over and grabbed her elbow. “You okay?”
She looked at him to respond, but noticed a deep gash across his face and temple. “Oh my God, Mark. Your face!” He reached up and wiped at the seeping blood. His eyes widened, as if unaware that he’d been injured.
“It’s okay. I can’t feel it. Must have hit my head on a chair during the—”
Another snapping sound, more shouts. This time, the sub seemed to drop like a rock—at least twenty or thirty feet straight down. Jen felt like they were on an airplane going through intense turbulence. She closed her eyes, but still almost threw up.
When the sub righted itself once again, she persuaded her eyes open and found the cafeteria/meeting room in shambles. Plastic trays, chairs, and cups were strewn about, and two of the tables had broken and collapsed in on themselves.
Mark had also recovered, and with one hand on his wound and the other still gripping Jen’s arm, he pulled her out the room. “Come on. Let’s see if we can figure out what’s going on.”
“Stay out here, you two. It’s too crowded in there anyway.”
“We just wanted to see what’s up. Is everything okay?” Mark asked. He spoke fast, breathless.
“No. Well, yes. We’re in no danger of sinking, but the hostile sub did significant damage,” the Sergeant responded.
“What do mean, hostile sub?” Jen said. She tried to remain calm, but the words tumbled out frantic and panicked.
“Well, what we do know is that there’s another sub out there, and they fired something across our bow. It hit, but was deflected, thank God. However, the second shot was nearly exactly the same. It hit and was deflected.”
“So… what does that mean?”
“It’s not easy to do. Two boats, both moving—yet glancing a shot just short of devastating? It wasn’t an accident.”
“Why would they want to hit us?” Jen asked.
“No idea. We’re still trying to get a visual so we can see who they are, but the only thing the captain can think of is that they didn’t want to sink us. They wanted to disable us.”
CHAPTER 13
“DIVE. DIVE, DAMNIT!”
SHE HEARD a loud, gruff voice—the ship’s commanding officer—yelling to dive. Faster, deeper, all at the same time.
They were still standing just outside the bridge, but Sergeant Carter had left to see to his team.
Why did someone want to disable them? And who?
Jen had no idea what was going on, but she stood riveted next to Mark nonetheless, trying to pick up any clues from the crew controlling the ship.
“We are, sir. We’re almost at target depth, but…”
“I know we lost power to the bilge, and we’re taking on water. It doesn’t matter now. We dive, we dock, or we die.”
Jen knew the CO wasn’t trying to sound clever. On the contrary, he sounded terrified, trying to make the best of the situation. She also knew that if the CO was concerned, there was probably reason for them all to be concerned.
“Did he say we’re taking on water?” Mark asked. “We need to find Carter.”
Jen felt panic rising in her throat. It was a feeling of complete helplessness. She imagined the depths of the ocean pressing in on them, waiting.
They leaned in to the door separating them from the bridge. Jen pushed an ear to the door and tried to hear the rest of the conversation. Without meaning to, her hand brushed against Mark’s. He held it firm in his own.
“Captain, we’re at target depth now. She’s holding fine, but again, we can’t—”
“Yes, I understand. Just find that station.”
“Affirmative.”
At that moment, Carter called out from behind them in the hallway. “Jen, Mark, come here. You should see this.”
They followed Carter toward the front of the sub, farther forward than even the bridge. As they neared the extreme front of the sub, Mark suddenly understood where they were.
“It’s an observation deck,” he said. “They fitted reinforced plexiglass or something to the front of the sub so you can see out the front.”
“The nose of the submarine is actually glass and silicone, heated and stretched, then shaped, and finally supercooled quickly enough to form a strong bond. A computer-controlled laser array used 3D mapping software to analyze the shape and find any weaknesses, divots, or anomalous surfaces.”
“Sounds expensive.”
“It was, but then again, your country’s space program isn’t funding manned rocket missions these days, so this project was almost fully funded within a year.”
“You mean NASA?” Jen asked.
“Yes. They are hoping to deploy these types of viewports on future manned space explorations and unmanned telescope missions. Keeping the main components of a telescope camera indoors rather than in the vacuum of space and away from fast-moving microscopic particles is expected to have a positive effect on the lifespan of the lens and other apparatus.
“Anyway, they wanted an actual prototype that would emulate some of the environmental constraints—pressure, temperature, etcetera. Deep-sea exploration isn’t perfect, but it’s the closest we’ve got.”
Jen was impressed, but she had not forgotten what had just happened to them. They’d been attacked almost five miles underwater, and they had no idea if the enemy sub was coming back.
“Carter, what happened up there —”
“Don’t worry about it. Our CO is a very qualified captain, Jen.”
“But the pressure…”
“I understand you’re concerned.” He began to turn away, then stopped. “Here’s what I was taught. If something happens on an underwater vessel, and you’re alive long enough to know about it, you’re most likely going to be able to do something about it.”
While it wasn’t exactly comforting, it did help calm Jen’s fears about being crushed to death in an underwater tube. Carter waited for them to ask more questions for a moment before turning again and walking toward the glass dome.
They entered the tiny chamber, and Jen was confused. “It’s dark. I can’t see anything.”
“Right. The captain will turn on the floodlights when they start searching for that docking station. Our technology is more advanced now than the docking station, and considering the fact that it’s unmanned, we’ll be able to find it best by simply using our eyes.”
Jen heard a tiny click from outside the chamber, and suddenly the room was lit in an eerie yellow glow. The three of them turned to face the glass bubble at one end of the room and peered out.
What stared back at them was one of the most amazing things Jen had ever seen.
The research station, reflecting the sub’s floodlights, seemed to sparkle and shimmer, and the glistening of small marine objects and debris added to the effect. The station’s semi-translucent outer shell was reinforced with some kind of mesh, but it was impossible to tell just how thick the walls were.
An unimaginable number of small polygons, about two feet in diameter, made up the shell’s outer layer, giving the dome its rounded appearance.
The size was the next thing she noticed. It was massive—absolutely gargantuan. It rose from the depths below them as if out of nowhere, and it continued on up above their field of view. It must have been over twelve stories tall. The dome could easily house entire buildings. She wondered if it might have at one point in time.
“Oh wow,” she said. Mark and Carter both stood mesmerized as well, neither having anticipated the sheer scope and magnitude of an engineering marvel like this.
“Wow is right,” Mark said finally. “It’s a shame this has to be top-secret. The world wouldn’t believe something like this could exist.”
The sub was facing the dome, but easing sideways through the water, keeping its nose and the observation room centered on the research station.
“Captain Volstik will do a full turn around the station, locate at least one of the docking stations, and then his crew will maneuver for the docking. We’ll have a great view from here, since our docking port is topside, directly above our heads. Once we dock, though, we’ll have quite awhile before we can enter.”
“Why is that?” Mark asked.
“Well, we can’t know for sure, but we’re expecting this place to be flooded. It’s been sitting down here for over thirty years with no maintenance or upkeep. In order to completely pump it out with the equipment we brought, it would take weeks. We’re hoping, though, that it’s not entirely filled with seawater, or that some of the compartmentalizations the builders included are still doing their jobs and keeping part of the base watertight.
“Whatever the case, we’re expecting to pump at least the first and second compartments in—that’ll take around twelve to fifteen hours—and having those levels dry should give us enough space to work and get what w
e need.”
“Assuming we find what we need,” Jen said.
“Right. And we will. Don’t worry, this will all be resolved soon, and we’ll get Reese back.”
She wasn’t reassured, but at least she understood part of the plan. Enter the station, find whatever clues or pieces of the puzzle they could, deliver that to Nouvelle Terre, and get Reese back.
Easier said than done.
A voice crackled over the intercom, preparing the crew for docking. Jen looked out at the station stretched across the panoramic view, trying to find the docking port.
“There it is,” Carter said. He lifted a hand and pointed toward the far edge of the dome, still not yet in full view.
Jutting from its base was a rectangular port, pushed out like the entrance to a storm shelter outside of a farmhouse. They watched it roll toward them, the submarine making minute adjustments in her bearing as they closed in on the bay.
Another message over the intercom crackled, ordering the docking crew to take over. Carter explained that once they got nearer to docking, the docking crew would guide the sub in by hand, using sensitive thrusters to correct and control their motions.
Before they reached the station, however, a looming shape appeared in between the sub and the dome.
The dark shadow slipped in front of their ship, obstructing their view.
“It’s the other sub,” Mark whispered. His voice had dropped as if trying to hide from the black sea monster in front of them.
“Damn. It is. They were trying to disable us; to get us to dock. That was the plan all along. They’ll probably dock on the other side now that they’ve got us where they want us.”
“But I don’t get it. Why’d they shoot at the sub?” Jen asked Carter. “If they wanted to kill us, they’d have just sunk us in the first place. Now they just wanted to make sure we docked.”
The captain burst through the doors of the observation chamber, his duties for the time being completed. He’d apparently heard Jen’s question. “Because they wanted to make sure we made it here, but that there was only one way off the station: their sub.”