“Hey, Marker, wake up!” he yelled tugging my arm. “Our power is dropping and the console clock has slowed to a crawl. Better back away from its grasp or we’ll be joining that ROV in its fiery grave.”
Fortunately, he had noticed the problem. My eyes had been fixed on the visual impossibility to the point of ignoring the controls. As I slammed my attention back to our reality, I saw he was right. We were in the field of the object and being pulled closer by the second.
I jammed the joystick toward my stomach and the propulsion motors roared into reverse vibrating the SeaPod’s structure trying to escape its pull.
“Not working, Chief,” I yelled. “The motors are straining and we’re barely holding our position. If they weaken more we’ll be sucked right in. Options?”
“Hey, Marker, you’re beginning to sound like Bowman now but that’s not a bad thing; blow the damn ballasts and get us some lift. Those motors need some help against that monster’s gravity.”
I hadn’t dumped a SeaPod’s ballasts before but instead relied on its neutral buoyancy and propulsion motors to navigate. Blowing the ballasts was an extreme action equivalent to an emergency surface command ridding the pod of hundreds of pounds of dead weight all at once. It just might work. We would head straight up after they filled with compressed air and then I would have time to regain control as we drifted upward.
Bending closer to the control panel, I searched for the ballasts icon. Nestled in between several other icons I found it. A legend below it said RED=EMPTY. I touched the icon glowing green and listened for the hissing of air: a signal that they were filling. Instead, I heard two loud echoing gasps, sounds that I was not expecting but they told me the same information: the ballasts had filled with air as the icon went red.
“Hey Marker. We’re pulling away! That did it. Now figure out how to stop this thing from floating to the surface. Got your power back now?”
Looking at the panel clock for confirmation, I checked it against my watch.
“They’re both ticking forward and the battery gauge reads green, so yes. We have power.”
“Well, thank God! Let’s dock this thing before something else goes wrong.”
A mere thirty minutes after we left Pod Bay 1, we returned as changed beings. Joking about the pilot in the mental ward we wondered if we also should check in, questioning our own sanity. But we had each other as a witness and we agreed on what we had observed. We had to find Bowman and tell him of the looming danger.
“Now repeat that,” he scoffed, “you experienced spaghettifying?”
“Yes, Dr. Bowman, that’s what we’re trying to tell you. Just like Franklin explained to us. When Ivy warned of the Condition Yellow alert after those grotesque sounds echoed through the station we went out in a SeaPod to investigate. What we found was unfathomable. Down below Pod Bay 2, the ROV is melting into the monopole and a tractor wheel near it is starting to warp in a bizarre distorted way. It happened in front of us as we watched although very slowly,” Briscoe answered.
‘B-but that can’t be real -- what you saw. It just can’t happen. Are you positive you didn’t experience some form of hallucinogenic mass hysteria down there?”
“We wondered the same thing, Dave,” I answered, “but when the SeaPod began to lose power and almost killed us we knew then we were in real trouble, not imaginary trouble. It’s down there absorbing everything in sight right now. Probably growing brighter too. The only thing we can’t figure is why it’s not using seawater as a fuel.”
“I’m sure the particle physicist will explain that when he gets here if what you tell me is true.”
“And when is he due here?” I asked.
“At 1030 hours unless they experience weather delays.”
“That’s two hours from now. Mind if we catch a nap, Dave?” I asked. “We’re pretty much running on empty right now with all the emergencies waking us up.”
“Sure, knock yourselves out. I’ll handle our guests when they arrive but I’d like for you to meet them and describe your findings over lunch at…,” he glanced at his watch, “1200 hours. I’m having Chef Saunders prepare his special DV meal for us. You won’t want to miss it.”
As he stood to leave Briscoe said, “We’ll be there, Dr. Bowman. I’m as starved as I am exhausted so that will be perfect.”
“Head on up, Chief,” I said, “I need to give Dave this note I found in Li’s back pocket. Almost forgot about it with all the ruckus. Meet you in the mess hall at noon.”
Nodding he smiled.
“Tell me what the note says, then. I’m too tired to care right now. Just old age I guess but I can still hear my bunk calling.” He winked and left the room.
Dave settled back in his chair and held out his hand awaiting the note.
“What do you have for me, Matt? Did you say you found it in Lt. Li’s back pocket?”
“Yes,” I said and pulled the note from my pocket. Unfolding it I placed it in his hand and sat waiting curious about its message. “I haven’t read it,” I added.
He stared at me for a few seconds then moved his attention the note. I watched his eyes quickly scan the note then move back to me.
“Well, Matt, it seems that what you have found is the missing link to his abduction mystery. Li says here that the one that calls himself Ming captured him from a dive with explosives strapped inside his suit and ordered him into the bay then commanded him to retrieve his notebook and return to the bay without being noticed or he would destroy the station with a giant explosion. He obeyed Ming but was taken captive anyway. And the most important thing in here is his comment that when retrieving it he pulled all the Z information from the notebook and left it in his desk.”
“What does that mean, Dave?”
“It means they still think Discovery One is a radiation monitoring station. He kept the Z material from their eyes. What a brave soldier.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Dave. He must have been a pleasure to work with. Renews my faith in humanity.” Growing tired and ready to bunk down I stood to leave. “So does that tie up all the loose ends of your mysteries we came down to solve? I mean can we head back home anytime soon?”
“Not so fast, Matt. You’re forgetting the new elephant that just walked into the room.”
“The monopole?”
“Exactly. Our staff is not trained in stressful diving procedures nor expected to participate in such life-threatening undertakings. That’s what you and Mr. Briscoe are best at from what I hear. I’d like you both to remain here and get us out of this new danger. And, not surprisingly this one may be the most difficult to deal with. Seems we are now fighting the laws of physics and none of us are prepared for that battle.”
Chapter 19. The Visitor
“Station Alert! Station Alert!” Ivy’s voice boomed from the overhead speakers startling us. “We have a visitor. A large submarine is pulling along side the dome fifteen meters out on the starboard side. According to my submersible database and the sonar returns from its structure, it shows to be a Kilo-class submarine modified to operate at this depth, possibly a new PRC super-secret sub. However, none of its measurements exactly match any of China’s submarines in my database. I’ll report more information when my sensors detect it.”
“Oh shit. Speaking of battles,” Bowman said rising from his chair, “Here comes another one. That’s a Chinese Russian sub. They must be looking for their lost whale-ship.”
Sighing he bent over and spoke into the glowing panel on his desk, “Ivy how large do you estimate this ship to be?”
A soft purring sound preceded her answer.
“Its length measures to be eighty meters or about two-hundred-and-fifty-feet and the hull shows a ten meter beam; over thirty feet across. Weight is estimated at three-thousand tons.”
“Good God what a monster,” he said, “I had no idea they could dive this deep.”
He looked at me with eyes like saucers and returned his attention to Ivy.
“What’s
it doing now Ivy?” he asked.
“At a standstill ten meters off the ocean floor. Its engines have gone quiet and its sonar is pinging the area, apparently looking for something other than us.”
“They are searching for their ship,” I said. “What do we do now?”
“We wait and pray. Hopefully they will move on after an unsuccessful search. They do have a moon pool according to the whale-ship’s logbook but it can’t be used at this depth so I don’t expect any knocks on our doors.”
“Implement silent running Ivy. PA announcements off.” he ordered.
“Do we have armaments on the station Dave?” I asked exploring our defensive options.
“Yes, we have three torpedoes tubes on each flank of the crawler’s hull but if we use them the explosion will surely take the station with it. They obviously know that. That’s why they’re nearly on top of us.”
“Want me to go rouse the Chief and prepare a SeaPod for diving?”
“And what would you do out there, Matt? Kick sand in their face?”
“Well no but that’s not a terrible idea,” I said snickering, “Might blind them.”
Briscoe blustered back into the room and rushed up to us.
“Did I hear my name called? You can’t rouse me when I never made into my bunk before all hell broke loose again. What is it this time another submarine? That’s what Ivy said.”
I glanced up and said, “Yep, a big one. Might as well sit this one out. We’re pretty helpless against it.”
With the station’s heating vents barely blowing air, the room began to chill down as we sat in dead silence waiting for something to happen.
“Is it getting cold in here or it just my cold-flashes returning?” asked the Chief.
Bowman stared at his computer screen.
“No, it is not you. We’re on silent running. Every system is running at reduced power to prevent vibrations and noise. It’ll drop to about forty degrees in the station before the auxiliary heaters kick in. The sub should be gone by then.”
“But what if it doesn’t?” he countered.
“Then we put on coats.”
Suddenly something from Ivy’s announcement resonated through my mind.
“Did Ivy just say the sub was on the starboard side of the station? That’s near the monopole. I wonder if they’re close enough for it to affect them.”
“I don’t know let me check,” Bowman said.
Bending over her console he said, “Ivy, submarine status?”
“No change. Still in position pinging their sonar.”
After twenty minutes with no additional information from Ivy, Briscoe appeared restless.
“Hey, Dr. Bowman, is there a coffee center in the Z-room? I need a cup. This waiting is killing me. Either I get a cup or fall asleep right here and fall out of my chair. And that would be embarrassing.”
Bowman smiled at the break in tension.
“Sure, Mr. Briscoe, but you may have to make a pot, with the guys gone from their workstations. The room normally sits empty when we’re traveling or disconnected from the cable.”
Minutes passed before he called back:
“Can I bring anybody a cup of fresh java?”
“Count me in, Chief,” I shouted.
“I also would like one, two sugars, no cream. There are cup carriers on the shelf under the pot.”
Teetering the carrier, he reentered the room and distributed the steaming coffees.
“Did I miss anything while I was gone?”
“Oh, if only it would go that fast,” Bowman said. “They’re trying to instill fear with their inert proximity and silence.”
Chuckling Briscoe commented, “Working for me. You, Marker?”
Bowman sat up in his chair and leaned in toward us.
“Look guys if they wanted to kill us they would have already done it by now. All they have to do is fire one tiny torpedo toward us. Their hull can take the impact. On their sonar, we’re just a big balloon hanging over a bulls-eye. Impossible to miss.”
“Any evasive measures available?” the Chief asked.
Scoffing he answered, “Yeah, after we spend ten minutes activating the bridge and starting all the wheels into motion we roar off at a half-mile-an-hour. So, no. We got nothing.”
Thirty minutes later after fruitlessly discussing an evasive defense in the event of a torpedo attack, we returned our attention to the sub. Bowman again asked Ivy for its status.
“Little change. They’re still motionless but settling toward the floor. Sonar is still chirping but growing softer as if they’re limiting their search”
“Or losing their power,” Briscoe added.
On his observation, we all looked at each other.
“Could that be possible? I mean for the monopole to affect something that large?” I asked.
“We have no precedence as to what it can do, Matt. And, even if we base our projections on what it did a day ago they could all be wrong today. He hiked up his sleeve and glanced at his watch.
“Hmm. Williams should be leaving Pod Bay 1 right about now. Hope she goes out to port and avoids our sleeping giant.”
“She’ll take that route just to avoid the monopole,” I said, “She heard Ivy’s message I’m sure. She wouldn’t go that way anyway.”
“Ivy, has Lt. Williams left the station?” Bowman asked.
“Yes, Dr. Bowman. I tracked her safely out past the submarine with passive sonar. She’s on her way to the surface now. I’ve determined that she left the bay door open for her return. Shall I close it with the suspicious vessel in the area?”
“Yes, Ivy. And reopen it on her return after you verify the craft as one of ours.”
“Understood, Dr. Bowman. I’ll signal ID confirmation using light semaphores retaining acoustic silence. The SeaPod is programmed for that.”
“Well it seems you’ve thought of everything, Dave,” I said. “I’m more impressed every moment I’m here.”
He stared at me curiously for a few seconds.
“Matt, you must need rest badly or you would remember that you described that sandcastle feature to me almost twenty years ago and told me exactly how it would work for evading enemy interception. Remember?”
My mind was fogging over with exhaustion, but I did remember that design. He was so excited about it he brought a small flashlight with him to the beach the next day and even created a flashing code for signaling the drone ships. I guess I was just good at implanting ideas in my younger days.
“But I thought that was your design,” I said, “You even created a signaling code. I remember you used three shorts three longs and three shorts for Save Our Station. You had me convinced it would work. What glorious imaginations we had back in those days.”
“You’re right and I hate to admit it, Matt, but mine’s being challenged right now. Nothing down here is even imaginable. My reality keeps changing planes and I’m always getting bumped off the passenger list.”
“I suspect that Admiral Franklin and his guest may ground those planes when they arrive, Dr. Bowman. In fact I’m kinda counting on that,” said the Chief smiling.
Then lowering his gaze in a hushed voice he added, “I’m not comfortable when dealing with the unknown either. I’d rather know what I’m dealing---”
“Dr. Bowman, the sub now rests on the ocean floor and has gone silent. Sonar pinging has stopped and life signs have ceased. Data suggests that power in the vessel has failed. Rescue measures should commence immediately.”
He bolted upright at Ivy’s interruption and glared at her panel.
“What? Rescue the enemy, Ivy? Why?”
“Because they are human, Dr. Bowman. Something I can never hope to be. Humans consider life precious then allow it to die without remorse, an emotion I can never hope to possess. I am just relating my innate programming to this situation not fully understanding the meaning of the word enemy or its antonym friend. When I’m finally programmed with sentience in my next version V, I may
fully understand my mistakes in reasoning. Until then I remain a logical entity relying on strict rules for my behavior and responses. Does that clarify my reaction to the ship’s power failure, Dr. Bowman?”
Sighing he said, “Yes, Ivy. Understood.”
Then he paused and added, “Privacy please, Ivy, until I give the keyword ‘awaken.’”
With his command, her eye that had always glowed from the desk panel went dark.
“Good,” he continued, “Now we can talk.”
The Chief sat up in his chair squinted and eyed Bowman.
“Are you planning to rescue the entire crew of that ship? In a sub that huge, there must be at least fifty crewmen. If we bring them all aboard the station they can easily overtake us. They may even commandeer the station and take it for their own use.”
I looked at the Chief now confused from Ivy’s compassion.
“Chief, I believe you are playing out a moral dilemma that has plagued humans for centuries. There is no right answer. The mind answers one way while the heart answers another. Neither is wrong. Neither is right. I suggest we leave the question for the Admiral when he arrives within the hour.”
Bowman agreed nodding.
“Well said, Matt. This is truly an international crisis brewing before us and I prefer not to take any responsibility with a rash decision. For all I know this may go straight to the President’s desk for a final resolution.”
“But it better be quick,” I added, “those men can’t live for long without fresh oxygen especially in that minus-fifty-degree water temperature around the monopole. They’ll either suffocate or freeze to death… or both.”
Briscoe rose and turned to leave then looked back, “Please excuse me, gentlemen, while I go try to catch at least a few of those forty winks I promised my body. And as far as my concern for that sub out there? I say we saved ourselves a torpedo.” Then he was gone.
Chapter 20. Jonas Silkwood
Sea Station Umbra Page 16