Chiffrey nodded, obviously impressed. “And onboard the Bluedrop, they have the same monitor array?”
“Right,” Malcolm said. “Their auxiliary screens are smaller, but they can shuffle the feeds back and forth. And, of course, they have the windows.”
“I’m amazed they’re so big. Can they really withstand all that pressure?”
“Nearly as strong as the hull. Major engineering effort and one critical breakthrough went into those. Doctor Bell still thinks windows are the best high def. I’d like to go down one day.”
Lately, Malcolm and Emory never missed a chance to extol the advanced capabilities of the Bluedrop, especially the safety features and backups. And it was no exaggeration. Multiple redundancies were built into every system and the vessel had tested stronger than anything else of its kind. If they had to go down, at least there was no better craft than her father’s masterpiece.
And there he was now on the screen, shown sitting in front of Matthew, looking very much at home, as usual. Becka was running through a checklist. Matthew was tending the communications gear and backing up Becka on instrumentation. Penny felt slightly ill just looking at them. They were crammed together so tightly. It was just a sardine when reduced to its fundamentals. Or a coffin. No, she scolded herself, do not think like that!
Her father glanced back at Becka. “Any problems?” His voice came through the speaker almost as if he were in the monitor room.
“No…Doctor Bell. No problems.”
There had been hesitation in Becka’s voice. Maybe this was Becka’s first trip with her father, Penny speculated. Most of his students were in awe of him, though it was considered unfashionable to show it.
The Bluedrop crew quickly set up all the instruments and systems. Becka was speaking with Malcolm, their prime contact person above until Emory made it back to the lab. Occasionally they spoke with Andrew on the bridge. He could hear everything, and had his own video array. Her father didn’t want technology to cut people off from direct contact, but he wasn’t a Luddite, either.
Becka had been chanting her way through the checklist, but now finally said, “We have green all around, Doctor Bell.”
“Good. Descend to ten meters and hold.”
On the sonar, it looked like they were just a pebble, dropped into a bottomless well.
“Ah, good,” her father said. “Lovely to be below the waves. She’ll feel steady as a rock when she reaches her true element.”
“Going through a few more checks,” Becka said, and began reciting a stream of readouts like a litany. Her droning voice was oddly soothing.
Malcolm was intent upon the constantly changing lights on his control boards, but he suddenly looked up just as Emory appeared in the hatchway. He had a towel around his neck and his mass of hair and beard were still dripping. The chair sagged as he traded places with Malcolm, and his head swiveled back and forth as he tried to quickly take it all in while toweling his beard and hair.
“Seems okay,” he finally said. He looked at Malcolm who gave him a thumbs-up.
“Good to go up here. Bluedrop?” Emory said.
“My board’s clear,” Becka said.
“All right,” her father said. “Has any one of you any objections at all to going on?”
In the monitor, the look of puzzlement on Becka’s face was clearly visible. Penny knew her father’s little ritual.
“It is a serious question,” he continued. “What say you?”
“I’m ready,” Becka said. Matthew just nodded.
“I’ll take that as a yea. With hopefully the blessing of whatever godlings hold sway here, let us descend.”
He glanced at Becka. “Take us down.”
The exterior monitors showed bubbles releasing out of the ballast tanks. As they dropped into the deep, the green sea swiftly gave way to blue, then dark blue, and finally jet-black. The lights pushed out, illuminating whatever the water carried and bringing a little color back. The air inside was already cooling, according to one of the instrument readouts. Matthew had a hand to his earphones, which he wore over a backward-turned baseball cap. He was listening intently to all the talk. Maybe, thought Penny, he was listening for her.
“Descent running at forty for one,” Matthew said. “How we looking up there?”
“All okay, Bluedrop,” Emory replied. “We have you on side-scan at west fifty-seven degrees south of dome’s dead center by nine hundred and sixty meters.”
“Perfect,” her father said. “We’ll come in from the side rather than crashing down on top. About twenty minutes will get us down, yes?”
“About right, Doctor,” Becka said.
As the Bluedrop crew made their way to the bottom, Emory and Malcolm continually reviewed the instrument readings, and as far as Penny could tell, there was nothing unusual. The clock seemed to be holding onto every minute and she felt like stepping outside for air, but stayed glued to the floor behind Malcolm’s chair.
“We are about three hundred meters from the bottom,” her father said. “Coming to a stop…now.”
The sonar indicated that they had halted their descent and were motoring toward the dome.
“There it is!” Becka cried out. “God!” The floodlights lit it up surprisingly well. The first obvious impressions were that it was more rounded than it had appeared on the Navy video, and far more intricate.
“You see?” her father said. “Nothing like really being here.”
Penny could see Matthew gazing out the window and hear him softly mumbling, but could not make out the words.
“Can you see all this on your screens up there?” her father said.
“The video feed is, wow, just fantastic,” Malcolm said. “We’re tying it into the sonar and already building a model.”
“Sensors are pulling in tons of data,” Emory added.
“Doctor Bell, it’s Lieutenant Chiffrey. Can you hear me?”
“Yes, perfectly.”
“We can see the surface curving down, and the texture shows up much better, more detailed than what we got from the ROV. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“I’m not surprised. Our lights, of course, are not penetrating far enough to see the whole structure at once, although the water is remarkably clear. Clearer than it should be given the high nutrient levels we detected before. But maybe they were just in the surface layer. The curvature goes down steeply, and we are now following it down. Are all the feeds getting through?”
“Yes,” Emory said, “all cameras. Should have an excellent record for use later.”
“Good,” her father answered. “I don’t see the numbers of fish that we were getting up top. From our readout, nutrient levels are down from what they were closer to the surface. Perhaps it’s intermittent. The O2 concentration is fine, however.”
Penny said to Emory, “Maybe something has changed down there. Dad, can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear, as always. We’ll be careful. And this first visit is not going to be a long one, in any case. Thirty minutes more, tops.”
In spite of the obvious wonder at what they were beholding, Penny thought Becka appeared remarkably calm. Her eyes were full of amazement, but she still did her job. That’s why her father had chosen her.
“A sea urchin,” Becka said, as if thinking out loud.
“But a tiny bit larger,” her father replied with a chuckle. “I know you mean the shape and surface structure, and you’re right. The convolutions appear to describe a definite pattern, some kind of complex but elegant symmetry. Didn’t notice that so much on the Navy video.”
Penny nodded as if he could see her. The structure reminded her of an architectural dome she had seen in Spain, but turned inside out, so that the incredibly intricate pattern was on the outside.
Matthew spoke softly. “It’s so perfect…”
Silence. Then her father said, “Enjoying the view, Lieutenant?”
“Fantastic. I’m speechless.”
He wasn’t smirk
ing. But, finding words after all, Chiffrey asked, “Do you still think it’s natural?”
“It does give me a sense of something that grew this way,” her father responded. “But animal, vegetable, or mineral? All of those and something else I can’t say. I can say I wish all of you could be here. What we see on the screens is nothing compared to what I am looking at directly out the port. It is absolutely awesome in the full and correct sense of the word.”
“It’s like a holy place,” Becka said. “Like a temple.”
“It may be one,” Matthew said, continuing to gaze out the port. The look of rapture on his face was like that of a child.
“Domes are often a feature of sacred spaces,” her father said. “So it makes sense that you would feel that way.”
“Look there!” Matthew pointed.
On the underside camera, the large opening at the bottom of the dome came into view, the cave-like feature they had just a glimpse of in the Navy video. Penny knew, as well as if she had read his mind, her father would want to get a closer look. It resembled a vent of some kind, and the Bluedrop descended toward it. Her father brought the minisub around until it was pointing straight at the opening, which ran down to the bottom and into the sand.
“Incredible,” her father said.
“Be careful,” spoke Andrew from the bridge. “Looks like some turbulence kicking up.”
“I can feel a current. I’m taking us back twenty meters.”
“It looks like water is being sucked in,” Becka said.
“You’re not moving,” Emory said, cupping his head mic a little closer, as if not wanting anyone in the lab to hear.
“Martin,” Andrew said with a note of concern, “better get out of there.”
“Yes. But as I increase power, the pull of the current seems to match it.” Bell almost laughed. “Goodbyes are difficult.”
“Are you snagged on something?” Penny asked, worried. She could stand it no longer. “Dad, get out of there, that thing is trying to suck you in. Get out, get out, blow the ballast for God’s sake!”
She could see sand and bits of seaweed being drawn into the mouth of the opening, faster and faster until it formed a twisting whirl like a giant sink drain. She gripped the back of Malcolm’s chair so hard one of her fingernails cracked. Then suddenly, like a blender with the plug pulled, the current stopped. The Bluedrop, engines still revving, shot backward like a torpedo.
“Are you all okay?” Emory said, in a voice of unconvincing controlled calm. His face was covered in sweat. Malcolm wore an anxious smile. Penny found none of this reassuring.
“We’re fine,” her father said. “Quite a ride, that. Hit the bow planes, so we angled up away from the bottom. No damage. Whatever was happening seems to have subsided. Extraordinary. Glad we got that on video. I could see into the opening at one point, maybe ten meters. Could have sworn there was a little light in there.”
“Are you coming up now, Doctor Bell?” Emory asked. “The plan was that if anything happened…”
“I hate to, but yes, coming up. Hang on. Look there, isn’t it reversing? The current is coming out now. The color of the water…”
“Dad! Come up now!”
“The power,” Becka said, her voice suddenly a notch higher in pitch. “Cut the—”
There was a screech on the intercom. Emory yelped and yanked off his headphones. Malcolm froze, startled. Emory cautiously held up an earpiece and listened as he hit a few instrument keys.
“I lost them. First there was a loud—”
“Heard it,” Andrew said.
“You’ve lost them?” Penny said.
Emory glanced at Malcolm, then up at her, and the worry in his eyes was alarming. Malcolm’s nose began to run. He wiped it on his sleeve. “Everything’s gone dead. There’s nothing.”
Emory’s look of shock suddenly intensified. “The cable…”
Penny looked at the lifeless instruments. The room was suddenly like a bed of chloroform-soaked cotton. She couldn’t think. An image formed in her head of what it would be like to have that unimaginable amount of pressure slamming into you, the tons of water with the weight of the entire ocean cramming your body down to a lifeless smear. Then you’d be some dark thing’s next meal, the small bites, quick and furtive, then yanking, tearing—
“Stop!” she whispered to herself.
“What?” Malcolm asked as he jerked his head around.
“On the scope,” Andrew said. “What’s down there? Malcolm?”
“Nothing! The dome’s gone. I mean, it’s off the sonar again.” Malcolm gave a worried look to Emory who rubbed his forehead with thick stubby fingers.
“What else?” Andrew said.
“Readings indicate the cable is no longer attached.”
“Hauling it up now,” Andrew said. “Not as much drag as there should be. It’s severed.”
Penny cried out. “What is that?” Something had just appeared on the sonar screen.
“Might be them!” Emory said. He stared at the instruments arrayed before him as if examining entrails for portents. “It’s the Bluedrop. Looks intact. No sign of debris.”
“Are they moving?” Penny asked. “Emory!”
“Yes, yes, but they may be drifting. North. Strange. Can see them, but not the dome.”
“Maybe it’s different for them,” Malcolm said. “They’re not on the bottom, maybe…”
“When did they last reset the dead-man switch?” she asked interrupting. “It’s set to go off at twenty-minute intervals unless they override, correct?”
“Right,” Emory said, pointing to a countdown readout. “About twelve minutes ago.” With the dome now gone from the sonar screen, the single blip looked small and lonely.
Andrew’s voice finally came over the speaker, breaking the silence. “Eight minutes. All we can do is wait.”
The Bluedrop idled in the deep current, swaying slowly, coming finally to a balance point. She floated in almost total darkness, her lights gone. No one had ignited the flares. Only the glimmer of phosphorescent organisms, disturbed by her passing, betrayed her existence. She became part of an ancient current. There was no hurry. There was nothing, nothing but the silence of the sepulcher. A small wheel clicked one last notch.
“They’re coming up,” Emory said.
“We’re moving out of their way,” Andrew said as the engines came to life. “Keep a sharp eye. Divers are ready, could use another. Emory?”
“I’m there,” he said, and immediately headed out the hatchway.
“Is there anything we can do, Captain?” Chiffrey said.
“The Navy? Probably not, but standby.”
“Yes, sir.”
“They’re not coming straight up,” Malcolm said. “Side slipping, veering due north. No, eight degrees east of north. Twenty-three…almost twenty-four meters a minute.”
Emory nodded slowly. “The hull may not have been breached. They should reach the forty meter mark in about eighteen minutes, then stop ascending—”
“Why stop?”
“It’s a built-in safety measure, unless, well…The divers can take care of the rest.”
“If it works,” Penny said.
“Well, it seems to be working,” Malcolm replied with a trace of annoyance.
Chiffrey touched Penny’s elbow. “Maybe we should go up top.” She didn’t reply but followed him out of the control room and up the steps.
When she reached the deck, she had to squint hard against the clinically bright sun. Its cheery brightness felt jarring, like a polka at a funeral. The fresh air, however, calmed her down a little.
The Bluedrop had only lost power. The hull was intact. But still, Penny couldn’t help imagining. Down there drifting in total darkness, a part fails, something sticks, jams…then the final gasp for the last air…
A mist of spray swept across her face and helped her shake the dire images out of her head.
“I hope you don’t blame me,” Chiffrey said.
&
nbsp; “It’s just a power failure. They planned for this, and they’ll be back up in a few minutes.”
She didn’t want to talk, and he left her alone. But for some reason she stayed where she was. Even though she didn’t want to talk to Chiffrey, she was glad he was there. Stupid. They both leaned on the rail as if enjoying a summer cruise. The engines throttled down, and further out, the divers were going over the sides of the Zodiacs.
They waited.
Chiffrey looked at his watch and cleared his throat. “They must be at forty meters by now. Do you know how long it will be before—”
“Over there!” Penny shouted. The Bluedrop had come up almost a half klick away from the divers.
“I don’t think they paused before surfacing,” Chiffrey said. “Hang on.”
The Valentina surged back to life at full throttle and wheeled around in the tightest turn she could make, directly toward the Bluedrop. The divers scrambled back into their Zodiacs and raced toward the minisub. They would get there before the Valentina, but not by much.
Chiffrey was shaking his head. “How could they not know they were that far off?”
When the divers reached the Bluedrop, they went back into the water, and quickly surrounded her with flotation buoys, even lashing one of the Zodiacs to her. Emory could be seen climbing upon the hull and over to the hatch.
“She seems okay,” Chiffrey said. “Not floating any lower than before. Now what’s the drill?”
The Valentina pulled up alongside. The crane that had launched the Bluedrop just hours ago, though it seemed to Penny like an age, was being readied to bring her back on deck to her cradle. Divers worked lines and attached fenders, reversing the earlier process.
Penny made herself speak calmly. “They’ll winch them up to the deck, although I don’t see why they don’t just open the hatch now. I can’t see anybody yet, the safety floats the diver’s attached are blocking…”
Far From The Sea We Know Page 29
