Titanic 2012 (inspector alastair ransom)

by Robert W. Walker

  Everyone’s eyes now went to the forward bubble to stare at the awe-inspiring ship they had come to plunder—the same one that nearly killed them moments before. As everyone expected, the ship loomed before them in profoundly sad shape—horribly torn and broken apart. And yet it somehow exuded a certain pride and pulled from David a sense of power and prestige he hadn’t expected. Its bow and stern sections were separated by a good mile or more with a scattered debris field all round. In fact, the place looked as Ballard had so aptly described it. From the portals of the sub, all aboard must be feeling the same as David, that they hovered above a cemetery—one without individual headstones but rather one gigantic mausoleum—Ballard’s hollowed ground of his discovery, of Titanic’s awful remains.

  “Thar—Thar’ she blows!” Swigart called out the old seaman’s call for sighting a whale. “That’s a sturdy looking metal roof there on the boat deck. I say we park there. We’ve arrived, everyone. Prepare to board Titanic.”

  “From the rivet patterns, I make it out to be a sound surface,” David agreed.

  “The top of the bridge would be my guess,” added Mendenhall, looking out from over their shoulders. “Let’s do it, but I’d place her hovering above us. Too risky otherwise.”

  Lou began to maneuver the submersible to a perfect position for the group photo to be shot. David stared at him through their snug-fitting helmets and saw Lou smile wide and mouth the word ‘Perfect’. He seemed a man fixated on one thing—this group photo, and David had to wonder how much money he expected to receive from the news hounds for its use alone.

  David would have been extremely disappointed rather than just mildly so, had he not much bigger worries to concern himself with, but given their circumstances and the extremes to which Kelly had gone, the photo op business felt like small potatoes.

  Everyone readied and steadied themselves for exiting Max for Titanic, dreams of a lifetime filling their minds, the anticipation palpable.

  TWENTY FIVE

  Above on Scorpio, Captain Juris Forbes indeed monitored the vital signs of all the divers, and pictures from the MHD’s mounted cameras were being sent in real time to the screens in the control room. The scientific team, officers, crew, and camera crew from CNN had all crowded round the various monitors, and together they had cheered when Titanic came into view.

  “Think of it, people,” Forbes told the others. “Aquanauts will walk on Titanic’s decks, skim along the promenade, and enter her compartments.” He then spoke to Lou’s divers. “You aquanauts will become a part of Titanic history—a part of ‘her’ very habitat and to completely and wholly sense her; indeed to become one with her. I so envy you people.”

  “Enough with the waxing and waning,” replied Swigart to topside.

  “No, no, never enough, Lou,” Forbes shot back. “Think of it! Men and women will do the exploration not machines—not robot but human hands will take hold of her secrets. And we are privileged to see and hear it all in real time.”

  Another cheer from the appreciative surface team went up for Captain Forbes’ cheerful speech.

  From Max so far below came Lou’s reply to this. “Well said, Juris.”

  “Still…” began Forbes anew, “armchair exploration from up here… seeing this,” he indicated the wreck image flashing on the screen in the CIS room; another screen displayed the submersible called Max in real time circling, hovering into position. “It just makes me want to dive… to go down there and be a part of it all, people! A part of history, gentlemen.”

  Lou got everyone’s attention back to the job at hand. “Now short of one of you keeling over,” he said to his divers, “we go in-step with the topside team and Captain Forbes who has us on camera. Test your cams for Forbes; he wants eyes on everything.”

  Each diver had a small camera hooked over a section of their helmet—the helmet itself necessary for full suit coverage and liquid atmosphere to buffer divers against the cold and pressure. The helmet secured about the head for protection against implosion, of course, but also to hold microphone and camera. Built into their suits via electrodes, their vital signs, too, were monitored.

  The helmet held the camcorders about the size of a large computer thumb-drive. They sent real-time images up to the surface. “What you divers see, those above will see,” Swigart reminded them.

  “Everyone ready? All recording devices on?”

  Aside from the camcorders, Dr. Entebbe and others above had monitored each diver’s vital signs as they underwent the small death, and thereafter how they were doing in terms of blood pressure, breathing, heart rate, brainwave activity, down to skin prickles. Swigart was in constant communication with Forbes and Entebbe regarding his divers’ internal ‘attitude’ as it was referred to—and he was concerned with Swigart’s vital signs.

  “Setting the camera aboard Max for automatic, Juris, to get some shots of us all arriving and venturing out onto the deck now. Coming around to landing… closer… closer…”

  All aboard struggled to get a sight of Titanic from the large bubble over the top front of the sub—having to take turns to do so. The sight amazed the divers. Kelly grabbed David’s hand and squeezed hard, unaware just how hard. He nodded to her, a signal he was here to watch her back. She squeezed harder before letting go.

  Swigart had positioned the sub to hover over the over the ‘safe’ deck which sent up a cloud of debris and particles, but he announced, “The deck here will hold us. I’m putting Max on auto hover while we are away. We’ll get an exterior shot of Max hovering over Titanic as well, eh? We’re OK. Don’t let the slime and rust frighten you.”

  “It’s so surreal,” said Kelly, speaking for them all. “Like it’s someone else’s dream, and we’re just intruders.”

  “Don’t want to hear it, Irvin,” ordered Swigart.

  “We’re not here to wax poetic,” Mendenhall backed Swigart. “Leave that crapola for Bob Ballard’s generation.”

  “Yeah!” said Lena. “We’re in it strictly for the money and the adrenaline rush! Right, Will?”

  “We’re here to plunder.” Bowman sent up a fist overhead, creating a wave throughout Max’s interior.

  “Best remember that,” muttered Mendenhall.

  “Get the hatchway door, Fiske?” commanded Swigart. “Best remember we don’t want this compartment flooded with salt water!”

  It was the only reason the sub had a hatchway for the divers where they must take turns entering and leaving as only two divers fit into the space between the two hatchway doors. Once the hatchway was clear of saltwater, they exited and another pair entered. For safety precautions, this hatchway opened manually from the outside as well with a mere push of a button that opened the hydraulic portal.

  Now, two by two, they ventured out and away from the hovering submersible that looked for all the world like a hovering Chinook helicopter with no blades. From Max, they went directly for the target area and were almost immediately assembled onto the deck of Titanic, including Swigart, leaving the sub to hover in such a manner as to be facing the length of Titanic’s crushed, ruined deck where all the divers assembled for the group photo being careful to remain atop the metal roof they’d found.

  The interior temperature gauge aboard Max on their leaving her had read 43 degrees Fahrenheit. One lesson learned early: Max couldn’t generate enough heat to combat the onslaught of cold down here—not for long. Their thermal suits helped, but fear ran high that outside their safe shell the temperatures would be even harder on the team.

  The plan was to place one dive team at the stern aft section here, the second team would re-board Max to travel to the more intact forward bow section, approximately a mile away. But first a group photo atop the deck at the stern section was the plan, thanks to Kelly’s suggestion and Swigart’s uncharacteristic change in orders and plans.

  It was almost as if he’d become intoxicated, so intent had he become on this single idea. It did seem a sudden fixation to be sure.

  From the po
int of view of the scientists and Forbes on Scorpion, no one thought it a good idea for all the divers to vacate the submersible for the deck. Mendenhall, whose expertise was underwater photography, carried the camera equipment. By the same token, Swigart, being dive commander had set the recording camera mounted on the sub as well to get photos from this separate view.

  Everyone was acutely aware that at the moment—as they jostled for position in the bully photo— that time was fast ticking away, that their four hours on the breathing packs was already down to three and a quarter hours. They had literally turned over their lives to the technology they carried on their backs; they all knew how fast and efficiently the ocean would kill them should any malfunction or accident occur.

  “Let’s make this fast,” said Bowman. “I wanna go exploring! Imagine being inside her hull!”

  Once positioned and with Mendenhall giving them the international sign for success, a thumb’s up, he set the timer, and with a cacophony of voices coming over the com-links, everyone shouted for Mendenhall to hurry in order to get himself in the frame, but he hadn’t counted on a current that jostled him and left him fighting time. The camera began clicking off several shots with Mendenhall’s back to the camera before he finally got into position. David suspected that perhaps one frame alone caught the man’s full frontal features.

  David wondered if Mendenhall, a meticulous fellow in everything he did, had not planned it that way. Was Mendenhall the thing… the ‘it’ of Declan Irvin’s journal and nightmare, the disease-spreading murderer aboard Scorpio? And now here! His finned feet touching the spongy deck of Titanic. Here not for the first time, but rather for a second time?

  David had been confused at the last moment by changed orders from Lou; orders that paired Ingles not with Bowman as in training sessions up till now but with Mendenhall. He struggled to make sense of the switch in orders, the last minute change up, but Lou had offered no explanations only orders, and one was that Swigart himself would dive with Kelly Irvin. That Swigart would dive into Titanic himself was in itself a shocker to them all, but when he announced the pairings David and Kelly exchanged a concerned look. David with Mendenhall at his back did not sit well, and Kelly without David nearby worried them both as well.

  Once again Captain Forbes via communications above advised against this sudden new idea of Lou’s about joining the dive. Forbes cited his age, cited some early brush with some nebulous condition that could cause problems at this depth despite the technology keeping them all safe. Lou wouldn’t hear any of it; he was enraptured with the idea of entering Titanic—a lifelong dream and perhaps his plan all along, and at these depths with him in charge, who was there to argue otherwise?

  At the surface, Captain Forbes and his crew were not idle as they had sent down one of the huge platforms that would act as an elevator for cargo and discoveries plundered from within this section of Titanic. From Scorpio a secondary pull-away ship, considerably smaller but in actuality a floating crane for all intents and purposes, too would be moving to hover over the second section of Titanic a mile off, where it would be deploying an underwater platform at the second location.

  Even with this state of the art equipment, time remained the enemy. A secondary ship for this purpose had been sought, but nothing built other than Scorpio could possibly lift the sizeable platforms if and when full, so the search for a second ship had long ago been called off and the design for Scorpio put into play, a design that had a ship within a ship, so to speak.

  Half the team were waved off now to go and explore the torn apart aft section—Lena, Bowman, Fiske, and Jens while Swigart ordered Kelly, Mendenhall, and David back aboard the waiting sub.

  The last minute arrangements seemed odd, like another decision on Swigart’s part as he had now rather off-handedly and spur-of-the-moment re-shuffled the dive partners. The end result was that David, originally partnered with Bowman, was now partnered with Jacob Mendenhall, while Kelly, originally partnered with Jens was partnering with Lou.

  David wondered if Kelly had at some point talked Swigart into this shuffle of the cards, or if it was just Swigart keeping them all on their toes? Or given the fact two people aboard Scorpio were now dead, perhaps Swigart had a game plan in his head no one else was supposed to know about.

  Strange though that all previous philosophical operational plans of earlier were figuratively out the window yet still intact as no one really knew his or her partners under these circumstances. However, during training it was a mantra that any diver be capable of taking over for any other member of the team at any time.

  Whatever the case, David knew not to question orders while involved in an operation already underway. He wasn’t about to ‘mutiny’ at these depths and under these conditions. Human emotions of that caliber unleashed down here could prove catastrophic.

  With such anxious thoughts swirling about his mind, David imagined what his vital signs must be saying to Dr. Entebbe via the monitors topside. He was now following Kelly into the airlock to steal a moment with her before Mendenhall with his equipment and Lou would be coming through. Using sign language he indicated they could not be overheard while in the airtight, saltwater flushing bay. All the same, they each cut on a feature on their com-links that allowed them to speak privately.

  “I hate this, what’s going down,” he told her of his concerns.

  “It’s to separate us but keep an eye on us at the same time, and I think Mendenhall’s behind it—talked Lou into it behind our backs.”

  “You think so? I’m not sure I trust Jacob at all, but Lou’s acting strange!”

  “We should take no chances,” she said, “and I think we’re both spot on.”

  “You mean with Mendenhall’s manipulating Lou?”

  “Yes, and this thing—the creature—has taken up residence in Mendenhall. I’m sure of it.”

  “But Kelly, what precisely is it that makes you so sure?”

  “He’s damn creepy or haven’t you noticed? And big enough to have overpowered Alandale and Ford—so you’ve got to keep him away from the freezer compartments, and whatever the hell you do, don’t allow him at your back or to so much as touch you, David. I believe it transfers through touch—a kind of weird osmosis.”

  “I’ll tell Lou that we should explore Titanic’s interior together—the four of us keeping watch on one another—for safety’s sake.”

  “I’ve already told him as much, before we left from the surface. Maybe if we all can overpower Mendenhall when he makes his move, we’ll be OK.”

  “But we can’t touch him. You just said—”

  “Overpower with weapons, I meant. I’ve brought a spear gun for protection.” She held the weapon up. “Swigart approved it, for protection against any ‘natural’ creatures we might encounter down here, but honestly, I brought it to kill that thing inside Mendenhall.”

  “You’d better be damn sure before you put one of those in him.”

  “Did you see how he tried to avoid the group shot?”

  “I noticed, yes, but all the same—and what about Lou and me? We have no weapons.”

  “Pick one up—along the way. There’re pipes and all manner of tools inside the wreck—has to be.”

  The lock flushed out all the seawater and filled again with liquid air, allowing them to open the inner door to the airlock.

  “We could lock them both out,” she suggested once they were inside.

  “You mean lock them all out—sacrifice everyone?”

  “They sacrificed over 1500 on the Titanic, David.”

  “We can’t do that, no. We go after Mendenhall when the time is right.”

  She nodded, sighed, and put a finger to her lips to indicate they were back online and that any and all could now hear them.

  Mendenhall and Swigart were already in the airlock. Any thought of sacrificing the entire dive team had passed with the opportunity.

  Once all four divers were back inside and manning their respective stations, David caught K
elly’s eye, and they exchanged a knowing look as the others searched the debris field below them and watched for the other end of Titanic to greet them. Swigart searched for a place to ‘park’ the submersible, while the others searched for the best and safest entries to Titanic’s interior.

  By now the first team away was already penetrating Titanic’s aft sections.

  “How lucky are we?” said Kelly. “We get to see the ballroom.”

  “You mean what’s left of it?” replied David.

  From their vantage point with Max pulling away, they watched the quickly fading light around the aft section of Titanic. Moments before they entered total darkness ahead of them, David saw that Jens had found what appeared a likely entryway, and he and Kelly had watched Steve Jens wave Bowman, Lena, and Fiske to enter the wreck ahead of him.

  “What is it?” Kelly asked David, seeing the concern in his eyes.

  “Nothing… just felt my stomach churning like a clothes dryer. What if one of those four is the creature? Just biding its time for a second dive, a dive to the bow section where the freezer units are?”

  “What’re you two yammering about?” asked Lou. “All I hear is static.”

  “Talking about the other away team, Lou,” replied Kelly.

  David quickly added, “They’re being smart and cautious, Lou—the four of them sticking close to one another. I suggest our away team do the same.” Even as he said this, David realized how very little they knew about Steve Jens who’d been put in charge of the first away team. He certainly seemed overly polite under the circumstances as if wanting the others in front of him instead of at his back; then David realized just how horrible his suspicions had become—that it’d become a force of its own, leaking into every synapse of the brain. A force out of his control.

  The sub moved off at high rate of speed now, making short work of locating the other destroyed half of Titanic. In fact, with guidance from above at Scorpio control, the sub made the trip near instantaneously, handily locating the enormous bow section of the shipwreck. Here again the sub came face to face with the wall that was Titanic. They would have to maneuver Max up and over the deck in search of a landing site—the well known one that Ballard had used—the riveted metal rooftop of the officer’s quarters.