Titanic 2012 (inspector alastair ransom)

by Robert W. Walker

  “True, they have a bit more 413 left in their paks than you two, yes,” said Dr. Entebbe, “but not enough to gamble on, David.”

  David knew that Entebbe was right. The size of the man, the amount of exertion, it all changed the formula. Still no oxygen meant a blackout in three minutes, death in twenty. This everyone knew—and at these depths no one knew anything for certain except that nothing was for certain.

  David had helped Lou into the airlock, where within sixty seconds, the salt water was replaced by breathable liquid, which—as aquanauts, they could breathe in. Once inside Max’s safer confines, they remained under the watery OPFCs. In moments, David helped Lou to a rear seat, before he went for the controls. “Strap in, Lou. I’m going to open this baby full-throttle to get to the others! “Now, sir, now!”

  David fired up the silently running sub, took it in an arch so tight and fast as to cause a powerful centrifugal G-force which was softened for the humans as they were suspended in the OPFCs within the sub. David hit full speed ahead, racing for the aft section where, according to Forbes, the other four divers awaited on deck. Hitting Max’s top speed, the others came quickly into view!

  “A mile in a moment, Lou! There they are!”

  “Love this sub,” Lou weakly muttered, likely suffering a concussion. “Max is the stealth bomber down here.”

  Even knowing that David had arrived at the aft section so quickly, Juris Forbes shouted, “You’re down to four minutes; that’s a minute per to get each one aboard, and only two can enter at a time, David. Who’re you going to choose to live and to die, David?”

  David grabbed two additional liquid air paks and shoved them into the trash expulsion tube, and he fired them at the waving, waiting team. “Tell them to conserve their air, Forbes!”

  In a moment, Forbes said, “Jesus, well done, Davey boy!”

  “And tell them the situation; two of them must transition to the paks just sent them, while the other two go for the airlock.”

  “You’re within range, David; they clearly hear you now.”

  “And I can hear them, or rather their pandemonium.” David barked orders at them in the manner Lou would if he weren’t going in and out of consciousness. “Damn it, all of you, decide now on who’s doing what! Indecision will get you killed!”

  Staring out through the bubble, David saw that Lena and Will had swum for the extra air paks, while Fiske and Jens rushed the hatchway that would get them inside. So far, so good, but as exhausted as he was, David knew he could not let his guard down.

  David knew the others to all be professionals. Both Will and Lena made the transition from the blown paks to the fresh ones, so that there was no fear of the diver having a sudden loss of suit integrity only to wind up like Jacob or Kelly.

  Fiske and Jens, their usual bulging muscles masked by the shapeless Cryo-suits, made a lot of noise coming in through the lock, slapping each other on the back, excited from the fantastic dive inside and through Titanic’s aft section. They spoke of what they’d seen when suddenly their raucous laughter ended. David saw in his rearview mirror that they’d come up on Lou, unconscious from the concussion.

  And their next chorusing question was “Where the hell is Dr. Irvin?”

  “Dead… she’s gone. Long story. Strap in and I’ll tell you all about it while we make for the surface.”

  “And Mendenhall, David, what about Jacob?”

  “Yeah, where’s Jacob?”

  David sadly told them, “Jacob got himself killed down there. He tore his suit on a sharp object, and I watched him implode.”

  “Just like that?” Jens’ tone was accusatory.

  Fiske asked, “With all the damage to Lou’s suit, how is it that he didn’t implode?”

  “Mostly scrapes, but yeah, Lou’s damn lucky is all.” Get strapped in, gentlemen, and prepare yourselves for de-tox. We still have to drain the whole cabin.”

  From the control room, Forbes cut in. “Stop your third degree down there. As I informed you all, Dave Ingles did everything possible at the bow section that could be asked of a man, and besides, he just saved every damn one of you from certain death.”

  “Listen up, everyone,” began David, speaking to the two divers still in the water as well. “I’m giving the orders now. I’m taking over for Lou, who is incapacitated.”

  “You do intend to wait on Bowman and Gambio, don’t you, Ingles?” asked Fiske, who like Jens had strapped in.

  Jens added, “They’re in the airlock now.”

  “I’m aware of that. Will you please just help me out back there, you two! Soon as they’re out of the lock and in with us, tell ’em to get seated and strapped in. Dr. Entebbe’s waiting above with an emergency medical team.”

  “We’ll do our part but what’s up with Lou?” persisted Steve Jens.

  “From his pupil dilation and general unresponsiveness, my guess is internal trauma and a concussion. Won’t really know for sure until we get him out of the suit and onto an operating table.”

  “At least the rest of us are alive and well,” commented Fiske. “But you, know, Ingles, there’s gonna be a board of inquiry over the deaths of Mendenhall and Irvin, and I suspect you’re not going to have a career after this.”

  “No… no, I don’t expect I will.”

  THIRTY FIVE

  On entering the sub, Lena Gambio gasped on seeing the pale and unconscious Lou Swigart up close; like the others, she’d heard of the trouble at the bow—two dead and Swigart injured, but she wasn’t prepared to see the virile Swigart unconscious and drooling. “My God! Is Lou… is he dead, too?” Lena asked from behind David.

  “No, he’s breathing, you bone head,” replied Jens.

  David tried to quell their anxiety. “Lou’s had his head slammed hard against his helmet and a fight with some falling debris, so far as I can tell. Long story. For now, suffice it to say, I cut it rather short to get here in order to get him free.”

  “From what little garbled information we could get,” said Bowman, his voice agitated as well, “you witnessed two damned implosions, David. Two!”

  Will and Lena had been the last to enter the sub and thankfully without any incident.

  Lou then startled them all by filling the sub with, “Thank God every-one-safe-ly- back,” Lou’s groggy half-consciousness riveted the others to him. “All… all but Jacob and Kelly,” Lou added, a deep despondency in his voice.

  “What the hell happened out there, Lou?” asked Will Bowman as he and Lena were strapping in. “We could only get bits and pieces over the com-link.”

  Lou only groaned in pain, unable to reply.

  Both Will and Lena suddenly dropped the idea of strapping in, instead hovering over Lou to ostensibly inspect what appeared far more horrible damage to the man’s suit than it actually was, but David imagined they wanted to hear the facts from Lou and not David Ingles.

  “Swigart’s going to make it!” shouted David. “Quit hovering. He’s a tough old seaman. Goes in and out. Best we can do for him is get him to the surface. Now sit down and strap yourselves in!”

  “Damn it, David, what happened at the bow section?” demanded Bowman.

  “All of you strap the hell in, and I’ll tell you a story—a truth you won’t believe.”

  “Irvin tried to kill me.” Lou muttered as the liquid oxygen inside the sub was being diminished and replaced by gaseous oxygen. They must next blow their lungs of residual oxygen-rich flourocarbons—a process no more difficult than intentionally coughing to clear the last vestiges of liquid air, but eons of evolution that’d taken mankind from the sea and gills still managed to dictate to the brain that this was indeed a distressing reversal of logic and anatomy.

  “S-She… Irvin… she had so much strength…” continued a weakened Lou. “T-Took me by surprise. You know… let her talk me into all this…”

  “Lena,” began David, “you’re closest to Lou back there. Help him out with blowing his lungs, please?”

  “Got to get
out… get up,” Lena replied, ignoring David’s request. “Got to get outta this tin can… get some real air.” She was saying as if to herself—like a mantra. “Back to the upper world.”

  “I’ll take care of Lou,” said Jens, seated the other side of Lou and taking charge behind David. All that was required of Bowman was to take off Lou’s helmet and gently place his head forward and give him a few slaps on the back to clear his lungs. Coughing out as the others were doing would only add to Lou’s head injury.

  David indicated he was about to take Max to full speed. Finally, they all found their seats, and everyone had cleared their lungs of all Perflourocarbons, and the sphere was filled with breathable air.

  It was then that Lena, who’d kept a specimen net attached to her hip, dropped the bag alongside those of the others who’d entered with nets filled with small artifacts taken from Titanic. David was thinking about how hard this team had worked, and they had a myriad of archeologically significant finds returning with them, whereas he and Lou were just lucky to get out with their lives.

  “Gotta get to the surface,” repeated Lena.

  “You OK, baby?” Bowman asked her. “Hey, David, I think Lena might be having some kinda panic attack or something. “Hey, you guys monitoring Gambio up there?” he said to Entebbe and Forbes.

  Entebbe’s voice came over the com-link. “Lena, you have to calm yourself down, sweetheart. Your vital signs are all over the map.”

  David monitored the instruments and controls, acting as captain now, making sure their ascent was less problematic than their derailed visit to Titanic’s bow section. He prepped Max for the trip toward the surface. They needed to know their position in relation to Scorpio, so he checked the dive planes for the best trajectory, not to mention the depth gauge and reactor output. As he checked each off in his mental list, he shouted it out for the others to hear just as Lou would have done. He also checked to be sure their atmosphere was of the correct mix for their depth, which would change as they climbed. He put Jens onto monitoring the pressure gauge which reported back in bars and milli-bars.

  “We’re on our way back to a world with light,” remarked Bowman, who, while again seated, could reach out and pat her hand. No one had bothered removing their Cryo-suits so as to remain warm, but everyone aboard Max had removed their head gear.

  David realized that the warm glow of panel lights within the cocoon of Max’s now familiar interior felt good to them all, and for a moment they seemed to observe a spontaneous moment of silence for those who weren’t coming back with them.

  “Jacob ripped his suit through sheer, dumb, stupid carelessness after I repeatedly warned him to wait for the right tool for the right job,” David began. “Maybe if Lou had been with us, Jacob would’ve likely heeded Lou, but as you all know, for reasons none of us understood, Lou switched us around like a deck of cards last minute. I assume now that was something put into his head, along with this night dive, by Kelly Irvin—or rather the thing controlling her.”

  “Whoa, hold up, there David. What thing are you talking about?” Bowman wanted to know.

  “I’ll get back to that. As for Jacob, he went nuts on me when he saw those Bentleys and Renaults in the hold. Ironically, one of the cars killed him.”

  Fiske and Jens wanted the details of how a hundred year old car could kill a man in the deep. David told the story, finishing with, “It’ll all replay on the video from my cam.”

  “You saw the cars, really? How’d they look?” asked Bowman, sounding a bit insensitive.

  “Fine! Damn it, so fine they got Mendenhall killed. He was mesmerized by them.”

  “Imploded, damn… .gotta be a bloody, nasty way to go,” said Fiske.

  “Poor sonofabitch!” agreed Jens but not a word out of Lena.

  “Bad luck,” added Will, trying to redeem himself.

  “Jacob didn’t suffer—didn’t know what hit him. As for Dr. Irvin, I killed her with my laser knife beam, but only after she tried to kill Lou and me.”

  This caused a wave of gasps to bounce around the cabin, and David, watching Lena for fear Bowman and Entebbe were right—that she might have a full blown medical condition building, made no response to this revelation whatsoever. He decided she was doing as Entebbe instructed, attempting meditation therapy, keeping her eyes averted from others yet examining her surroundings as if new to the place. David watched her closely in his overhead mirror.

  At the same time, David continued his tale. “She was the killer, all along—or rather since Alandale.”

  “Since we discovered Alandale’s body, you mean?” asked Bowman.

  “Alandale was infected, and she spent time with him, and he infected her, but only after Alandale had been infected by Houston Ford. It fits the timeline; it was just after Alandale’s body was discovered that Kelly targeted Lou, influencing him, getting him to go along with her wild plans. Before that, she was enlisting my help to destroy the thing.”

  “You’re not making a whole helluva lot of sense, Ingles,” Bowman assured him.

  “Damn it, Will, she was the carrier—the disease that killed Alandale, Ford transferred to him. She didn’t bring it aboard, but it somehow learned that she was a serious threat to it.”

  “But you said she attempted to kill Lou, and after that, she tried to kill you,” countered Bowman with the others closely listening to both men.

  David realized the others hadn’t enough facts; they knew nothing of the journal or how ancient this threat was. “My cam-recorded video! When you see it topside, it’ll tell the whole story—as will the sound feed from my helmet.”

  “She was killed—not by the depths,” began Bowman, “not by Titanic, but by you?”

  “Damnit, Bowman, she… she wasn’t a she; she was an it…”

  “An it?”

  “A thing, a creature, a killing machine.”

  “Ingles, you’re sounding like a psycho nutcase!” Bowman snarled at him. “Are you sure Mendenhall died the way you say? God, and we’ve got you at the controls here… damn!”

  “Bowman, the pressure reduced them to dead flesh the size of… the size of a newborn mouse but hard as granite.”

  “She had me convinced that Ingles was some sort of monster,” moaned Swigart, doing his level best to corroborate David’s story. “When we got below deck level out of your and Mendenhall’s sight, she had some device, a remote that took us offline. And she had a spear gun, which when she raised it at me, I knocked out of her hands. That’s when she shoved my head so hard into an iron wall, that I literally passed out from the backlash to my head. She thought she’d finished me off by snatching down some heavy debris over my body. She had enormous strength.”

  David realized only now that Forbes had done a piss poor job of explaining things to the second dive team, and that they’d come aboard knowing nothing of what had gone on during the black out of communications.

  “How do we know that David wasn’t the one who set us all up to die down here, huh?” It was Lena, suddenly shouting at the top of her voice, out of control, pointing a shaking finger at David.

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” shouted David. “Will, you saw me reading that journal in my quarters, the one I kept from you.”

  “What journal are you talking about?”

  “I stuffed it behind a wall panel in our berth aboard Scorpio. You must’ve seen—”

  “No… no I didn’t.”

  “Well maybe if you hadn’t been playing house with Lena, you might’ve!” Ingles shouted, his temper unleashed. “Damn it, Will, you know I’m no killer.”

  “Tell that to Terry Wilcox,” muttered Lena, her eyes now like those of a snake.

  “If I could reach you, Lena, I’d slap your face raw for that! Damn you!”

  “Take it easy! Easy!” shouted Jens. “We’ll sort everything out topside.”

  Lena glared at David, a look that could kill.

  “Lena, listen to me,” he implored, trying to reason with her. “Dr. Kelly Irvi
n placed that journal in my hands in order to earn my trust, to put me at ease around her while she… while she killed Alandale for sustenance, followed by Ford, and she—or rather it—it came for hundreds if not thousands of egg-sacs down here lost on Titanic all those years ago—stuffed in bodies inside the freezer compartment where they were put on ice—the-the night Titanic sank. It’s all in the book. Get hold of the book, the journal and read it! Read every word, then tell me what you believe and what you don’t believe.”

  Forbes shouted from above, “Ingles, get control of yourself—your vitals are going wild, and you’ve got Max pushed to the limit. If you hit the surface at your present speed, you’ll all go flying over my bow!”

  David realized that Forbes was right, of course, but just as he started to slow Max, he saw movement out the corner of his eye. Something wobbling, squirming. “Jesus, tell me you picked up a sturgeon out there in your net, Lena! Will! What the hell’ve you two done?”

  “We discovered some sort of new life form!” shouted Bowman. “It’s our discovery. Found it together, didn’t we, babe? Found in a frozen state in the aft freezers.”

  “Oh dear God!” David went white, realizing only now that the stewards, pursers, junior officers, and some senior officers would most certainly have taken victim bodies to the closest refrigerated compartment as they would be nine city blocks apart from one another.

  “The airlock, now! Jettison those bloody things outta the airlock! Now before it’s too laaa—”

  Too late.

  Already the most evolved of the eggs exploded outward, splatting onto every surface like a black, oily eruption, including on Will’s suit, moving at eye-blinking speed, searching for a way into a host organism—squirming, crawling, and going for the unprotected face and orifices.

  Will raised his laser cutter, but he could not risk hitting Lena or anyone else with it. Everyone in the sub was screaming, their masks off now and breathing in the fresh oxygen.