Quantum Storms - Aaron Seven

by Dennis Chamberland

  “Do it! Now!” Legend replied. “Open the valves slowly. Disable the automatic systems.”

  Legend knew he was taking an extreme gamble. By disabling the automated systems and opening the valves, he could cause an uncontrolled flooding of the tanks and sink them. But now he had little choice. They had less than five minutes to descend lower than the oncoming submarine.

  Sam’s fingers danced over the controls. The rate of descent was slow and they could not actually feel themselves settle lower, but they could see the digital displays indicating their depth and they could see the image of the mammoth submarine headed directly toward them. Sam was faced with ensuring the rate of descent was slow enough to stay in manual control and not generate its own acoustic signature, but speedy enough that they would sink below the oncoming sub. All eyes in the room watched the dance of numbers and the approaching wall of nuclear powered steel. It was going to be close.

  Legend climbed into his seat and unceremoniously plopped his feet onto the desk before him. His left fingers scratched his beard as he watched the drama unfold like it was nothing more than a video game. Legend’s fatalism was so absolute that even this scenario failed to visibly move him.

  The two electronic images inched closer and closer together. Tens of meters closed to meters, to centimeters, and then the images were merged together on the screen before them. The Phoenix settled just below the hull of the submarine as it passed slowly over the wide platform, missing them by the width of a barnacle’s whisker.

  The tension in the room was substantial, but soon the image of the submarine began to separate itself from the Phoenix as it accelerated slowly away. Long minutes later, the submarine disappeared off their status board as it headed into the open Pacific.

  Legend breathed a deep sigh and looked at his rigid and sweating team who just stared at him without speaking.

  “Sam, turn the depth control system back over to the automated systems and then turn the ventilators all back on, and hurry up!” Legend ordered. “Baker, your little ROV’s were brilliant. The system performed flawlessly.”

  “Thanks, Bro.”

  “Where to now, Boss?” Travis asked.

  “Here,” Legend responded, displaying the image of an underwater formation on the screen. “This is the most productive underwater biological system in the North Pacific, just on top of Hancock seamount. And with the right currents, a lot of luck, and a little help from the exhaust of our power system, we can make it there, drop anchor and hide out for good while eating the finest seafood bounty in the oceans for years to come.”

  44

  Aaron Seven sat at his small desk reviewing the few bits of world news from his computer as pieced together by Pacifica’s communications staff. They dutifully assembled news from the planet as they could gather it from government broadcasts and scattered independent groups manning shortwave radios. On some days there was no news at all from across the entire planet, but on others there were a handful of items that told of a world whose human pockets were few and far between and most of them becoming more desperate by the day.

  Today Seven read of an extraordinary hurricane that came ashore at Galveston, Texas. It was apparently so massive and its wind speeds so great that there were no instruments that could even measure its ferocity. It plowed ashore near the Houston ship channel at night and ripped northward, its monstrous size apparently more then five hundred miles in diameter. Its winds and storm surge were so high that they swept the earth barren. Like a gigantic buzz saw, it cleared everything in its path from buildings to trees for hundreds of miles. The great storm did not lose its hurricane energy as far inland as Wichita, Kansas, where the last report of it surfaced, recording wind speeds still in excess of 150 miles per hour.

  Many of the news reports day by day were of extraordinary weather phenomenon, but others told of great struggles among pockets of survivors. Today’s news included the last transmission received from a group of survivors in Kansas. They accounted over their shortwave radio that they were being besieged by a band of militia and could not hold out much longer. The report said they were preparing to fight to the death rather than surrender to the heavily armed group, but that they held no hope that they would survive the struggle. The individual behind the radio transmission stated, “…they’ve come after our shelter and our supplies. As is their custom, we suspect if any of the men among us survives, we’ll spend tomorrow outside under the deadly sun. May God have mercy on our women and children.”

  Seven sighed deeply at the savagery of man, reflecting to himself that it was far worse and far merciless than anything the sun had dealt humankind. His desk surface was illuminated by a small light. Serea had retired hours earlier and lay a few feet beyond in the shadows of their apartment. Her even breathing belied her deep sleep, but Seven could not give in and rest.

  Suddenly, the silence was interrupted by the piercing buzz of his personal communicator.

  “Go ahead,” he said softly so as not to awaken Serea.

  “Aaron, this is Frank Spencer. You and Serea need to get to the Command Center as quickly as you can.”

  “What’s up Frank?”

  “You and Serea need to get here as fast as you can, Aaron. I have Raylond on the line and it’s urgent.”

  “Serea, we’ve got to go to the Command Center now. Your father’s on the line and it’s urgent,” Seven said as he gently touched his wife’s shoulder to awaken her.

  Serea snapped back the covers of the bed and sat upright, reaching for the light. Seven stood and quickly began donning his coveralls then clipped the PC back onto his belt. They left the apartment in record time, pacing wordlessly and quietly to the nearest elevator and up to the Command Center .

  Spencer and Vance Armstrong stood by the elevator door as it opened into the Command Center . “There’s something apparently wrong at Middlearth. He won’t say exactly what it is,” Spencer said rigidly. “He wants to talk to you,” he added, his eyes focusing on Serea.

  As they walked quickly to the main communications board, Sean Conlin, Twink and Edgar also arrived at the Command Center . Serea immediately sat before the main monitor and saw the face of her father staring back at her in a very fuzzy, black and white image that was clouded with static.

  “Father, what’s the problem?” she said into the small camera lens.

  Desmond stared back at her and even seemed to be relieved just to see her face in his monitor. “Serea, are you okay?”

  “Yes, father, I’m fine. Tell me, what’s going on there?” she demanded urgently.

  “It is my terrible duty to report that Middlearth is no more,” he said, his voice breaking.

  “What?” Seven asked, incredulously, over her shoulder.

  “An hour ago, Joseph and I were permitted to leave Middlearth to come to my study here at Stonebrooke to find scientific papers I remembered were in my collection pertaining to the natural subsurface generation of hydrogen sulfide gas. As you know, water from the surface is leaching out organic substances from the dead plant materials above and is being carried down to Middlearth through deep underground rivers and streams. These are all lined with bacterial agents that are shielded from the radiation, of course. Therefore, they are attacking and digesting the excess organic loading in the water and the anaerobic agents are all producing hydrogen sulfide gas in completely untenable amounts.

  “The atmospheric conditions at Middlearth have deteriorated and the hydrogen sulfide gas finally built up to such levels that we had to wear gas masks in most of our areas. We were forced to establish safe rooms with filtered air and no one was permitted outside these rooms without their mask. Needless to say the conditions were becoming absolutely unbearable.

  “Unfortunately, no one even guessed this would be a problem before the storms. Obviously that would have made Middlearth a totally unsuitable selection for human shelter. Nonetheless, I gave young Karl Leighter the data we had been collecting from the streams to see if he could model the gas
production curve and predict when the levels would begin to decline. In his analysis, he discovered that the acidity of the water was also being radically changed by the dissolved gas.”

  “You mean the gas in the water was producing sulfuric acid?” Seven asked over Serea’s shoulder.

  “Yes, precisely. And while the levels were somewhat minimal, I was concerned what effect they would have on the underlying strata. In other words, would the acid cause an increase in erosion? And would it, therefore, subsequently cause a blockage of the streams? Since we are totally dependent on the streams for power production, and power for our very lives, then this became a significant concern.

  “There was also the concern that the increasing acidity of the water might reach levels that would threaten our turbines or heat exchangers and destroy our energy producing equipment. Either way, we would be finished. It would truly be lights out - permanently.

  “After I explained this to my jailers, they permitted Joseph and me to come to Stonebrooke and try and find more data in the literature to help us model the stream erosion issue. We had been here for about two hours and were about to return when we intercepted frantic calls from Middlearth.

  “ As I explained to you earlier, the seven rivers all flow over the top of the dome and down the walls before entering into the main chamber. It seems the acid in the water caused one or more of the main tributaries upstream of the chamber to collapse and blocked the flow of the streams down into the chamber floor. This forced the water to accumulate in the void over the dome and it ultimately collapsed from the weight. The entire chamber of Middlearth apparently flooded in just a matter of minutes and everyone has drowned. As far as we can tell, no one has escaped except for Joseph and me. The President and his family, my staff, our friends, they are all just gone. Middlearth is gone. It’s all gone. I’m responsible for this senseless loss. Why didn’t I foresee these processes?”

  A full minute of silence followed as everyone sat in stony disbelief.

  “Raylond, how long until sunup there at Stonebrooke?” Seven asked crisply.

  “About half an hour.”

  “Can you find adequate shelter in half an hour?” Seven snapped.

  “Yes,” he responded. “In the cave transport system.”

  “Do you have any supplies? How long can you last?”

  Desmond’s face immediately became hard, obviously understanding the point of Seven’s questioning.

  “No! No! No! You will not, you are not, permitted to mount a foolish rescue mission over 4,600 miles. I forbid it!”

  “Father, now you listen to me for once,” Serea said with a broken but firm voice. “You are going to die unless we help you. And I will not permit it!”

  “Serea, listen…” Desmond said sharply, and then paused, obviously gaining some control. “Serea, your fate is interlocked with the lives of hundreds of other people there at Pacifica . You will use up far too many resources and risk far too many lives by this… by this insanity. And I cannot sanction it. Please understand that this mission, your mission, is far greater than any selfish sentimentality. Do not force me to ruin our last moment together with harsh and angry words.”

  Serea burst into tears and could not continue.

  Seven gently lifted her out of the seat before the camera and led her to Sean Conlin who held her against his chest. Seven returned to the chair and sat before the monitor. He moved his face closer and stared into the tiny camera lens and said, “Now you listen to me, you stubborn old jackass. You alone saved the human race from extinction. And your brain alone may be the only thing that keeps any of us alive in the future. So listen to me and listen well. I am coming to get you so here’s the plan.”

  Seven paused for a full two seconds as he formulated the arrangement in his mind and then said, “You and the Commander get to the hangar where your aircraft are stored tonight. Fly out to McChord Air Force Base in Seattle – one stop, one refuel on the way - you pick where. I’ll take one of our aircraft to Unalaska and then to Seattle . We meet at McChord in 72 hours. Then we all fly back to Pacifica .”

  “I will not consent to this! And how dare you speak to me like…” Desmond sputtered.

  “So give me an F in the course, professor. Take my assistantship away. Resign as my father-in-law. But here’s the deal and here’s the plan. I’m risking everything to meet you halfway. Now if you want to give up and die like a coward, go ahead. But I’m coming to get you and you’d better be alive when I get there!”

  The image of Desmond just stared back at him speechlessly from the monitor. Seven could see the form of the Commander standing behind him.

  “Listen up, Commander. You grab this man and render him unconscious if you have to, but get him on that plane and meet me in Seattle in 72 hours or I’ll fly the rest of the way to Tennessee and whip your knarley butt, you understand me?”

  The Commander’s face lowered behind and to the right of Desmond, and he clearly and distinctly nodded into the camera.

  “The Middlearth planes are all gone,” Desmond said. “They were removed before the storm, so there is no way that we can make it to Seattle . Hence, your plan is not workable.”

  The Commander’s face lowered again behind his boss and he clearly shook his head.

  “You’re lying Desmond,” Seven replied with a wicked grin. “You are a pathetic, pitiful liar. I’m shocked.”

  “Do not risk yourself or any more equipment. I will not meet you in Seattle in 72 hours,” Desmond responded.

  Seven sat for a moment, and then asked into the camera, “Will you meet me in Seattle in 72 hours?”

  “Absolutely not!” Desmond responded. But behind him, Seven could clearly see the Commander nod his head in the affirmative.

  “I’ll die coming for you, Raylond. If you don’t arrive in Seattle, then I’m coming all the way to Tennessee if I have to. Don’t rob your only daughter of her single joy in life. This conversation is over. You get on that plane and get to Seattle – no delays! I’ll meet you before sunrise in Seattle in three days at McChord Air Force Base, the end of runway 35.”

  “Wait! Aaron, you must listen to me…” Desmond pleaded.

  “I’m cutting this off, Raylond. Neither one of us have any time to waste,” Seven said as he abruptly switched the monitor off.

  “Frank, prep the VTOL immediately! We depart for Unalaska today at dusk,” Seven ordered.

  “Absolutely not! I will not!” Spencer responded sharply. “You clearly heard Raylond, and I will not disobey his clear wishes on this.”

  “Frank, you’ve been given an order to prepare the aircraft, and I will not let you screw this up!” Serea fiercely said to him, wiping her eyes.

  “I will not disobey a direct order,” Spencer responded stubbornly.

  “Frank, may I remind you that you’re in his direct chain of command,” Conlin said, pointing to Seven, “and by not cooperating, you are in direct disobedience to a lawful order.”

  “But he works for Raylond. And since the President’s dead, everyone works for Raylond,” Spencer spat, not daring to even glance at Serea.

  “Frank, I swear to God I’ll have you removed from office in ten minutes with the papers signed and on your desk,” Serea said clearly and strongly. “You will not stand in the way of rescuing my father!”

  Spencer looked at her with what appeared to be an undisguised hatred. “I’ll take this to the highest levels. I’ll fight this. I won’t order any of my people…”

  Seven picked Spencer up by his lapel and laid him across the console before them and pulled his body along the length of it to the end of the table, then bent his head over the edge, staring down at him. “You’re looking at the highest level, Frank. I’m it. I hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but now you leave me no choice. I’ll snap your neck like a twig, right here and right now, if you dare stand in my way on this.

  “Think about it, Frank. The chances are good that I won’t make it back, so why don’t you just change your mind a
nd go along with this and cooperate? This may be your big chance to finally have it your way around here. And if I don’t detect a change of heart in less than half a minute, there won’t be a need for any paperwork.”

  “Let go of me, you arrogant sonofabitch,” Spencer gasped.

  “I’d highly recommend doing as he says,” Conlin said to Spencer, looking down into his face. “I don’t detect any hesitation in his voice.”

  “Alright! Let me up immediately!” Spencer responded.

  Seven pulled Spencer to his feet and shoved him back against the console, his right hand gripping Spencer’s shirt and twisting it around his neck and reddening face. Out of his right eye he could see Spencer’s aide, Vance Armstrong take a step in his direction. Seven raised his index finger and pointed it at Armstrong without taking his eyes off Spencer. “One more step, golden boy, and I’m gonna wipe the windows with you.”

  “Let him go,” Conlin said behind Seven. “I believe he’s agreed, at least in principle, to your plan.”

  “Well, Frank?” Seven asked with a distinct snarl.

  “Yes, alright, yes. Unhand me this instant!” Spencer growled halfheartedly.

  “Wait,” Serea said from behind Seven. She stepped up beside them and looked over at Spencer’s red face, still glaring back at them. “Frank, I don’t believe you fully understand the significance of these circumstances. We don’t have any minutes to waste here. We must be airborne on a fully planned and developed expedition in a matter of hours, and we don’t have any time at all to squander on stopping to deal with resistance from you. This is my father’s life we’re discussing and I will not hesitate to eliminate you myself if I have to. Do you clearly understand what I’m saying here?” Serea firmly questioned in a distinct, strong, and unhesitant voice. It was unmistakably evident to Seven, and everyone else gathered around, that she, in fact, meant what she had just said.

  “Are you actually threatening my life?” Spencer asked with an incredulous grin.

  “It’s not a threat, Frank – it’s a fact,” Serea said coldly without taking her eyes off of Spencer’s. “And I won’t permit anyone else to be involved in your execution; I’ll pull the trigger myself.”