by Bob Finley
"Because I want to," she answered simply.
"So do I," Frank Sheppard interjected.
"Me, too!" Cy Wojecki announced stridently. Marc turned his attention to Wojecki.
"Haven't you been through enough already, Cy?" he asked.
Wojecki shook his head. "I have to go," he insisted. "I have to."
"Why? Why do you 'have to'?" Marc pushed it.
Wojecki looked around at the others before he answered. "They were my friends," he said softly. "And I let them down. I have to go. I have to find them. I have to know they're alright."
Marc allowed his gaze to slide over Wojecki's shoulder and connect with Kim's, who was watching the performance with covert amusement. Justin turned back to Sheppard. He tilted his head quizzically. "And you, Frank? Why do you want to go?"
Sheppard chuckled sheepishly. "For selfish reasons, I guess. I told you before, if the Navy weren't paying the bill, I couldn't have been here. For me," he looked around the Command center and spread his hands, "this is an adventure. One I may never have again." He smiled. "I don't want it to end. At least, not yet."
Justin felt a surge of kinship for a fellow adventurer. He smiled. Turning to Ben Masters, he said, "Ben, we've got a problem."
"What?" He had Master's attention.
"Well, everybody wants to go, but not everybody can. Somebody's got to stay with MARS."
Masters thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. "That's not a problem. I'll stay."
Justin nodded. "Actually, Ben, you're the best one for the job. Who should know how to drive it better than the structural engineer who built it? Right?" Masters warmed under the unexpected praise. Janese Cramerton was impressed with Justin's style of management. Kim smiled at his boss's manipulations. 'Cracking the velvet whip', he called it. Different people; different whips. Whatever works.
"There is one thing you should all know, though," Justin addressed the group. Startled, Kim turned quickly to look at Marc. Surely he wasn't going to tell them...Justin caught the reaction and smiled inwardly.
"This could be a total waste of time. All we know is that Cy overheard the kidnappers drop a name a couple of times. We think, but we don't know, that it's the name of a guyot off the coast of Gibraltar. Centinela Guyot."
"Ghee-what? What's a ghee-yo?" asked Ben Masters.
Marc laughed gently. "Now, Ben. I thought engineers knew everything."
Everyone joined the laughter and Masters flushed.
"I'm sorry, Ben. I couldn't help it," Justin apologized. Then he explained. "A guyot is a flat-topped underwater mountain. This one's about a hundred miles out from the entrance to the Mediterranean Sea. Which is probably why it's called...in Spanish...the 'Sentinel'. I don't really know much about it."
"And that's where we're going? That's not much to go on, is it?" Janese The Practical asked.
"Yes, it is and no, it isn't," Marc answered both questions. "But it's all we've got."
"Well, what's there? At this...guyot...I mean," Sheppard asked.
"As far as we know, nothing," Justin replied. "Just an underwater mountain a hundred miles out and a hundred feet down."
"Then aren't we assuming an awful lot, on such limited data?" Janese Cramerton persisted. "Aren't we ignoring a valuable asset? Why don't we surface, call in the Navy, or somebody with higher authority, and get the CIA or somebody involved? They have a lot more access to information than we do, and they're professionals. They have people trained to do this sort of thing. Otherwise, we're just,,," she gestured with a flutter of her hands, "...off chasing our own shadows across a whole ocean!"
Marc nodded. Carefully he said, "Yes, it is assuming a lot. But there are..." he chose his words deliberately, "...mitigating circumstances."
Janese Cramerton was obviously frustrated. It showed in her face. "What ‘circumstances'?" she demanded shortly.
Justin dropped his head a moment while he muzzled the hostile response that had boiled up. He slowly felt the self-control flow back.
"First...Mzz Cramerton...the official task assigned me has been completed; MARS has been located and will shortly be returned to the Navy. Their quarter-billion dollar investment is safe. They'll be happy. The abduction of the crew is secondary from their perspective. They'll shuffle that responsibility off to the State Department. That's why the crew was civilian. They're expendable because, since no military personnel were involved, no military response is required. And, of course, if military intervention is eventually required, that will be somebody else's decision, and the Navy's in the clear. If a scapegoat is needed, it won't be wearing a Navy uniform. Culpability's the name of the game."
"That is a very cynical thing to say!" Janese Cramerton objected.
Justin shrugged and smiled. "May be. Maybe not. From my experience with politicians, though...in or out of uniform...it's a fact," Justin declared. "Second," he held up two fingers, "the abductors are expecting us. I don't think we should disappoint them." After the shocked looks, and before the comments kicked in, he went on. "Doesn't it seem remarkable to you that Cy was lucky enough to overhear a clue as to the abductors' possible destination, not once, but twice? And then, against impossible odds, to escape?"
The shocked looks returned. "Are you accusing Cy of something?!" Janese blurted. Marc Justin didn't have to look directly at Cy Wojecki to see him pale and his eyes widen.
"Has it occurred to you that Cy was just being used to lay a trail for whoever showed up to follow? After all, there had to be a reason for Bill and Clark to be kidnapped. What could it be?" He looked around the group.
"They're bait," Frank Sheppard concluded.
Marc nodded appreciatively. "Exactly. They're bait. Why, I don't know. And that brings me to the third point," he looked back at Janese Cramerton. "What happens now has nothing to do with the original objective of finding MARS. That part's over. The rest of it's personal. Bill Layton is my friend. Somebody's playing ‘fetch' with him and I don't like it. I'm gonna find out who, and I'm gonna make some attitude adjustments." The look on his face discouraged anyone from commenting.
"And finally, Ms. Cramerton: because my contract with the Navy is fulfilled and I'm no longer in their employ, I'm a free agent again. What I'm doing now is on my own and personal. You, and the others, can go along, or you can jump ship now and go with Ben on MARS. It's your choice. But if you choose to go with me, understand this: you're not paying passengers, so there's no contractual client relationship...you're aboard as guests." He took one small step closer to her and his voice was ominously quiet when he spoke. "And, Ms. Cramerton...I don't need to defer to ‘higher authority'; on this ship, I am the higher authority. If you have a problem with that, see Ben for your ticket home."
He turned to the rest of the group. Saying, "Ben? Kim. I need to see the two of you for just a moment," he effectively dismissed everyone else, and they drifted from the room.
Ben Masters, anxiously shifting his weight from one foot to the other, gave the impression that he'd dash away at any moment like a skittish sand piper.
"Are you alright, Ben?" Marc asked soothingly.
Masters seemed surprised at the question. His "Oh, sure," was more a knee-jerk than an answer. Preferring the predictability of machines to the devious machinations of people, Ben Masters avoided eye contact whenever possible.
Marc deliberately eased left into Ben's line of sight.
"Do you think you'll be able to handle MARS without any help?" he asked as tactfully as possible.
Masters' head came up and his eyes riveted on Marc's. "Oh, yes," he said with absolute certainty. His shrug indicated the frivolity of the question.
"Then you won't need any help?" Marc probed.
Masters' eyes drifted away again. "No," he replied to a point somewhere off to Marc's left. The one-way mirror had been breached, but only for a moment.
"Okay. Then, if you'll get your luggage together, I'll meet you in the dive room in just a few minutes. Okay? Oh. If you think of anything I've
got on board that you might need, just let me know and I'll see that it's brought over to MARS before we leave."
Masters nodded his head vaguely and turned away. Marc looked at Kim and smiled. "Well, he doesn't waste time with a lot of idle chit-chat, does he?"
Kim shook his head. "He's different, alright," he observed. He turned back to Justin. "What's up?"
"Ben and I are gonna run over to MARS. Run a systems check, make sure it's seaworthy, see if he's got groceries. Like that. Could be a little while before the Navy gets here. Couple of things I want you to do while I'm gone."
"Okay."
"Set us up a Sat-assisted course with pre-programmed corrections to Centinela Guyot. Better run up north of Ampere Seamount, and use the cover of Josephine Seamount for the final leg approach. But when we clear Josephine, I want a covert, belly-down approach. Give us maximum speed, maximum depth, and horizon sensitivity on the HolarScope, with collision avoidance alarms. And secure the decks to get underway as soon as I get back." He paused.
"I thought you said there were a only a ‘couple' of things you wanted me to do," Kim accused.
"Yeah. All of that was the first one," Marc said. Kim laughed out loud. "The other one is to check the tube and make sure there's an EAR drop-loaded. Set it for a hundred mile relay." Kim's eyebrows rose.
"Expecting trouble?" he asked. The EAR was an Environmentally Activated Recorder. It could be set to respond to a variety of stimuli including sound, temperature, salinity, and current flow. Then, on command, it would transmit the recorded data to a distant receiver, similar to deep space probes. And in no more than a week, it would degrade in salt water to eco-friendly natural elements.
"Just being careful," Justin more or less answered. And then he was out the door.
Kim quickly seated himself at the computer work station. He keyed in a quick series of commands. A small, flat plate on the outer hull above the lab sphere slid aside, exposing a four-inch diameter circular opening. From it he released a slim, six-inch long projectile that looked like a child's toy. But when it bobbed to a point fifty feet above the VIKING, there was an audible pop and the ‘toy' instantly vanished as it streaked for the surface at incredible velocity. It acted as a tiny torpedo travelling straight up at a hundred miles an hour, covering the two and a half miles of water in three minutes. Pressure sensors deployed a drogue chute at one hundred feet, and slowed the tiny vehicle until it barely broke the surface. Then a transceiver in its nose queried a satellite for coordinates and, in a millisecond burst of energy that exhausted its lifespan, transmitted the VIKING's precise location to Kim far below.
Using the coordinates, Kim allowed the computer's navigation program to plot the course to their destination, with automatic course corrections that would allow the ship's autopilot to operate independently of human input. He downloaded the data into the AutoNav and logged off. Glancing over at the MARS III on his way to the lab, he could see his boss and Ben Masters huddled over the bridge’s computer console inside the clear bubble.
Inside MARS, Marc and Ben were just completing the systems check.
"Ben, how familiar are you with the computer systems?" Marc inquired. Masters thoughtfully considered the question before answering.
"Only in a limited way, I think. As it applies to engineering functions. Propulsion system. Life support. That kind of thing. Why?"
"Do you know whether there's a positional monitoring program that tracks the movements of the ship? Kind of like a ‘black box’ on an aircraft?"
From Masters look, he didn't.
"Can we find out from the computer where the ship was before it was here?" Marc patiently probed.
"I don't know. Maybe there's a ship's log?"
Justin discounted that. "If there were, I don't think it would be kept in manual form," he said. "Do you know where the software manuals or codes might be kept?"
Master's face lit up. "Ah! Yes! Yes, I think I do," he said, squatting before a cabinet to the left of the console. "When I was aboard last time some new equipment was installed, we had to troubleshoot the interface and...I think..." his voice was muffled as he leaned into the cabinet..."this might be what you're looking for." He triumphantly held up a glossy booklet. Inside were the commands Marc needed to access the information he wanted. He sat down and quickly ran through the procedures.
"Well?" Masters asked eagerly. "Was that what you wanted?"
Justin smiled and nodded. "Yes, it was. Thanks, Ben. That was a big help." Masters seemed pleased.
"What's so important about the MARS's movements?"
Marc considered how much would satisfy Masters' curiosity. And way back on the dark edge of his thoughts, he wondered about Masters' reasons for asking. Why ask why?
"Look at this, Ben," he said, and turned back to the screen. "These are coordinates that show where the ship has been, going back to the beginning of its present mission. And these figures," he pointed at another column of numbers, "are arrival and departure times to and from those coordinates." He looked up at Masters, who actually seemed to be following the explanation. "And this is the duration of time actually spent at each location. Now, if I plot the locations and durations..." he flicked through several menu screens, the computer did a quick two-step, and a picture appeared, "...then we can see that MARS's route was following a general pattern, and that each time they moved, they spent about the same amount of time at each station. Pretty much what you'd expect from a scientific survey party, don't you agree?" He looked at Ben again, who nodded. "But..." he pointed at the last two stations on the plot, "...they'd only been on their last station, here, a few hours when they suddenly moved to where the MARS is now. And," he traced the line with his finger to the last point, "they made a hundred and fifteen degree course change, traveled a short distance, and set down here. Why?" He looked from the screen to Masters. And waited. Nature abhors a vacuum, it's said. And most people are uncomfortable with silence. Masters lasted six seconds.
"Why...what?" he asked.
"Why," Marc quietly prompted, "did MARS suddenly change course, what..." he referred to the time code, "...four and-a-half hours before their security transmission, wander around for two or three miles, finally set down here, and then fail to transmit the security code...or anything else, for that matter?"
Ben considered the question. "Well..." he began slowly, "I suppose something could have happened, an emergency, maybe, and they had to set down. I do know from my mapping research that there would have been no suitable landing sites near their last location, before they set down here. So," he was warming to the subject he knew best, "if something went wrong, this would have been their closest opportunity. That might explain the sudden course change. And they would have stayed here, of course, until repairs could be made, or they could get help. But, as to why they didn't transmit...I don't know."
"Do you know of any mechanical reason why they couldn't have transmitted?"
Ben licked his lips absently and looked around. "No," he said finally. "Everything seems to be working."
"Have you seen any evidence of mechanical or electrical failure that would have forced them into an emergency landing?"
Again, Ben slowly shook his head. "No...not really," he sighed. "All systems are up. I don't see any evidence of failure. In fact," he shot a surprisingly belligerent look at Marc, "I didn't expect any."
"Oh? Why not?" Justin was caught off guard.
"Because...I designed this ship. She's a good ship and well built. There's no junk in her and the systems failures in sea trials were less than two percent on government specs that allowed up to ten percent. If I were you," he finished indignantly, "I'd be looking for human error!"
Justin looked with new respect at Ben Masters. Finally, he smiled broadly. "Ben," he said, "I think you're absolutely right. I think the human factor is the problem here."
It was Masters' turn to be surprised. "You do? Really?"
"Yes, I do. In fact, from the moment we found her sitting here, I
never thought that MARS had anything to do with what's going on."
"You didn't?"
"Nope."
"Well, then, what is going on?" Ben asked, mystified.
Marc Justin got up. "I don't know. Yet. But I'm sure I will soon. In the meantime, let's get you on your way."
They finished checking the ship for seaworthiness in just a few minutes. Marc quickly dashed off a message on the word processor.
"When you surface, Ben, you're going to have to be careful how you go about calling in the cavalry. You want to be sure you're 'rescued' by friendly forces."
Masters looked puzzled, then suddenly understood.
"Oh, you mean be careful who gets a look at the equipment that's on board!"
"Uh huh. So, when you get topside, all you have to do is hold down the control key on the keyboard and hit these three keys... here," he said, pointing. “A coded message will be automatically relayed by satellite that'll bring the Navy in mo' rickytick. They'll secure the ship until a technical crew can get here to man her. I've included in the message the fact that we're heading for what I think will be a rendezvous with the kidnappers, and the coordinates of where we think they'll be, in case the military wants to bring in some backup. Now...are you gonna be okay here?"
With Ben Masters assurances that he would be, Marc transferred by minisub back to the VIKING, secured the dive hatch, and called Kim on the intercom.
"Are we ready?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
"Was there ever any doubt?" Kim parried.
"Well, then, ol' son, let's rock an' roll!"
Marc had hardly got as far as the next sphere on his way forward to relieve his co-pilot when he had to lean into the G's and grab a wall as the VIKING's turbines kicked in and she heeled over and climbed on AutoNav out of the basin, accelerating with unrelenting power.
Ben Masters watched enviously from MARS's window as the sleek shape of the VIKING slid past him and hurtled into the black void, on its way to...discovery? Tragedy? Only time would tell. He turned from the ‘window’ and made preparations to return MARS III to its ‘other world’ far above. Looking around, he wondered idly which of those two worlds was really the alien one.
