Beyond the Ice Limit

by Preston, Douglas

  He sat down abruptly. Gideon found himself startled, indeed astonished, at the clear logic of the analysis.

  Prothero’s observations were greeted with a burst of murmuring that filled the room. “Thank you,” said Glinn after a moment. As the room died again into silence, Alex Lispenard raised her hand.

  “Alex?”

  “Two things struck me. First, the complete absence of sea life in the vicinity. In the benthic zone you don’t typically see a lot of life, but this area is dead.”

  “What sea life would you normally expect to find?” asked Glinn.

  “A few scavengers—hagfish, crabs, and such, which feed on carcasses that sink from the upper regions. You’d also see detritivores, which feed on decomposing animals and plants and also gobble up feces sinking from above. And epifauna and infauna would live on and in the seafloor itself. But I saw no evidence of any of these at the site.”

  “Any speculation why not?”

  “On land, there’s a phenomenon called allelopathy. Some trees and plants reduce competition around themselves by releasing chemicals into the soil that harm other plants or stop the germination of seeds. We may be seeing that here.”

  “And the other thing that struck you?”

  “The human corpses. Beyond what I assume to be damage caused by the initial explosion, they show almost no signs of decomposition that I could see.”

  “Any theory as to why?” Glinn asked.

  “At that depth and pressure, organic remains begin to dissolve even if they’re not attacked by microorganisms. I have no idea why they’re so well preserved.”

  This generated a long discussion. Glinn managed it, giving everyone a chance to speculate and ask questions. When the half hour was over, he gently closed the conversation. “I’d like to conclude by pointing out something that has undoubtedly occurred to many of you already.” He stood and began to pace the stage, slowly.

  “Dr. Prothero, it seems, has put a name to this organism—the Baobab—and I endorse it. The Baobab is currently quiescent. It went silent, so to speak, after an initial burst of activity and hyperactive growth following its ‘sprouting.’ I privately hoped we might have found it dead. But these images suggest it is very much alive…and healthy. It seems certain that at some point it will ‘fruit’ and produce seeds. We already know what these seeds look like, because the so-called meteorite was one of them—and we planted it. The seed weighed twenty-five thousand tons, was virtually indestructible, and was composed of a material many times denser than any known element on earth. Obviously, it evolved for the rigors of interstellar travel. It is a seed designed for Panspermia, but not the normal Panspermia of spores envisioned by exobiologists: drifting in space or hidden in meteorites. This is Panspermia with a vengeance. Terminator Panspermia.”

  There was a nervous titter from the audience.

  “Which brings me to my point: once the Baobab produces seeds, how will they be dispersed into outer space?”

  He let that hang in the air.

  “Think about it a moment. Each seed weighs twenty-five thousand tons. There seems to be no way for them to escape the gravitational field of any planet they land on. And yet they do escape. So I ask again: what is the dispersal mechanism for these seeds?”

  Another silence.

  “I suggest that there can be only one mode of dispersal, only one way for these incredibly heavy seeds to be released back into outer space and go adrift—to find fertile new oceans in which to sprout and grow. No doubt you can guess what that mode is, as well.”

  He took another turn, almost like a television evangelist, and faced the audience again. “Once you understand that, you understand what it means for the fate of the earth—and why we cannot fail.”

  After the meeting had adjourned, and as Gideon was getting ready to go, Alex Lispenard approached him. “Gideon?”

  He turned.

  “Look. I want to apologize for arguing with you earlier, escalating the discussion, taking it to Glinn.”

  “Forget it,” he said. “It was my fault. You’re the DSV chief. I just felt—”

  She touched his arm. “No need to explain. I understand now. What you did, going down there alone—on your second dive, no less—took real guts. And you kept your cool amid a nasty shock.”

  “Well, as you said, anyone can drive a DSV. And Garza yanked me up before I did anything stupid.”

  “When I was in mission control and that gigantic thing appeared on the screen, I was really taken aback. For a moment, I was damned glad it was you down there, and not me.”

  “It’s just a tree.”

  She shook her head. “I wouldn’t make any assumptions about what it is. None at all.”

  13

  GIDEON HAD NEVER seen so many stars in his life.

  After dinner, he’d retired to his cabin to unwind in solitude. But the events of the day, the unsettling descent and even more traumatic ascent in the DSV, and the revelations and speculations of the briefing session that followed, had affected him deeply. He couldn’t seem to shake the feeling of the cramped submersible, or the sight of the monolithic, cliff-like flank of the Baobab as he had ascended beside it. Even his big stateroom felt claustrophobic. And so he’d come up on deck. He wanted to feel the infinite space of the heavens above him as he brooded.

  Standing at the railing, a gentle spring breeze ruffling his hair, he stared southward. The lights from the ship provided just enough illumination to outline the nearest icebergs, which towered out of the black water like ruined castles, broken spires reaching toward the sky. The sea was a black sheet, reflecting the stars and the bergs, creating a surreal mirror of the dark world above.

  “Hello, there.”

  He turned. “You like to sneak up on me.”

  “It’s almost as much fun as tying your shoelaces together.” Alex joined him at the rail, leaning her elbows on it, gazing out. “This is what I love most,” she said. “Being right here, out in the great ocean like this, far from land. Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?”

  “I admit it’s magical. But I still prefer the mountains.”

  He could just catch the scent of her freshly washed hair, and he felt the same hopeless attraction wash over him. Part of him wished there were no Alex Lispenard on board to torment his dreams and disturb his peace of mind, but mostly he was glad of her presence and friendship—even if she did beat him relentlessly in backgammon. “That observation you made—about the bodies not decomposing—was really disturbing.”

  “At that depth and pressure, salt water is like a mild acid. It goes to work on organic remains right away. You may recall that no human remains were found with the Titanic—not even bones. While most of that was done by scavengers and tubeworms, the seawater and pressure sure helped it along.”

  “I can see why the Baobab-thing might excrete chemicals that kill off the surrounding microbial life—but how would it stop the action of pressure and salt?”

  “That’s the mystery.”

  Silence fell. They remained at the railing. Alex was so close to him her arm was brushing his. She had turned her head toward him, and he in turn swiveled to look at her. Their faces were very close. He resisted the impulse to lean in and kiss her.

  Instead, she kissed him. Her lips were soft and warm. The kiss lingered for a long, slow moment, and then her lips parted and their tongues touched. He reached up and stroked her hair, pulling her toward him in a deep, long embrace.

  She withdrew, smiling. Gideon was so out of breath he couldn’t speak.

  He leaned in to kiss her again but she stopped him with her finger. “Not where we might be seen.”

  “Right.” He wondered where this was going; why she’d changed her mind about shipboard romances. He knew this was probably not a good idea for either of them, but at the moment he really, truly didn’t care.

  “We haven’t done any magic tricks together,” she said in a low voice.

  “I’m not sure I can teach you anything.�
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  “Oh, I don’t know. There are always new tricks.” She paused. “Do you still have that bottle of Veuve Clicquot?”

  “I’ve been saving it.”

  She took his arm. “Let’s go enjoy it.”

  He looked at her a long time. He couldn’t believe this was happening. “All right.”

  They walked back into the Batavia’s interior, arm in arm. It was almost midnight and most of the ship, except for the bridge and the night watch, had gone to bed. Down through the corridors and passageways they walked, and into his stateroom. To his relief they met nobody along the way.

  He closed the door behind them with his foot. Silently they came together and kissed again. She began unbuttoning his shirt, slowly, and he did the same with her blouse. He resisted the impulse to tear off all her clothes.

  She pulled the shirt over his head and ran her fingernails lightly along his chest. “Mmm, I like this.”

  He tossed her blouse aside, unhooked her bra, and released her breasts, cupping them in his hands. He lightly ran his fingers around her nipples, feeling them stiffen at his touch. He could hear her breath quicken.

  Her hand crept down his stomach and slid under his belt buckle. “Want to teach me some magic?”

  “Yes,” was all he could manage to say.

  They made love slow, deep, and hard.

  Afterward, he lay collapsed on top of her, kissing her lazily. Then he propped himself up, looking down at her lips, her nose, her hair disheveled over the pillow, her eyes looking into his.

  “We forgot the champagne,” she said.

  “It’s still there, waiting for us.”

  They looked at each other for a long time. “What about your…you know, rule about no romance on board ship?” Gideon asked at last.

  “Oh, well.” She shrugged. “I just couldn’t stop myself.”

  “You mean, this isn’t just a moment of weakness, never to be repeated?”

  “I’ve been thinking about doing this for thirty-two days,” she said. “I’m afraid I’m hooked. There’s no going back now.”

  “For thirty-two days? I had no idea.”

  “Come on! All those backgammon games? All the time we spent together? You men just don’t have a clue, do you?”

  “But why now?”

  “It was when you went down alone this morning—insisted on it, said there was no point in arguing, told me to fuck off. It sure made me mad, but oddly enough it also made you irresistible. I didn’t expect you to be so…forceful. Knowing how afraid you are of the deep.”

  He shook his head. “It was Eli’s idea, to be honest.”

  “Well, he admitted that when I escalated the issue, complained to him. But you did it.”

  A silence. “So…is this…for real?”

  “I hope so.”

  “Are we going to hide it?”

  She laughed. “On board ship? Impossible. But as long as we’re discreet, I doubt anyone will object.”

  “Eli might.”

  “Are you kidding? With all his psychological profiling, I imagine he expected this. Maybe he even engineered it to happen, which is why he suggested you lead the recon. He’s the world’s most skillful manipulator. But in this case it was a good manipulation.”

  “Speaking of manipulation…” He looked down at her naked body, still unable to believe what had just happened; how suddenly his fortunes had changed.

  “Uh-oh,” she said. “Is something happening down there again—so soon?”

  14

  THREE DSVS HAD been removed from the hangar deck and now rested on the fantail, casting long shadows in the golden light of morning. Gideon arrived a few minutes before the scheduled briefing, cup of coffee in hand, pleasantly exhausted by the long night of lovemaking. Alex was already there, dressed in a sleek black leotard-like outfit, as if channeling The Avengers’ Emma Peel. She looked well rested—intimidatingly so, he thought, all things considered. Manuel Garza had arrived as well and was chatting with Alex. To Gideon’s surprise, he appeared to be dressed for a dive.

  “Hello, Gideon,” said Garza, offering his hand.

  Gideon took it. He thought Garza looked a little nervous, but maybe that was wishful thinking. “So you’re piloting a DSV, too?”

  “Assigned to George. You’re going down in John.”

  “And I’m in Paul,” said Alex, sauntering over.

  Gideon tried to maintain a nonchalant look and avoid staring. He glanced around at the others in view: a few DSV techs and the ship’s second engineer, Greg Masterson, a powerfully built man who was on hand to look over the DSVs’ engines and give the dive a green light. Did they know? But there weren’t any knowing glances; just an air of professional gravity.

  “Coffee before a dive?” Alex asked, arching her eyebrows. “That’s brave.”

  “How so?”

  “Coffee’s a diuretic.”

  Gideon hadn’t thought of that—although he had already been down twice. “Um, what happens if you have to pee?”

  “In your pants.”

  Gideon set his coffee cup aside.

  A deck door opened and Glinn emerged, limping ever so slightly, carrying an iPad and blinking in the bright sunlight. He clasped his hands behind his back and bestowed on them a cool smile of welcome.

  “Nice day for a dive,” he said. “We’ve been lucky in the weather.”

  Nods of agreement.

  “You’ve all studied the mission plan, but I’m going to run through the main points briefly and see if there are any questions.”

  He paused. Gideon glanced surreptitiously at Alex. Her eyes were on Glinn. With an effort, he turned back to the briefing.

  “First, a word about communications. Unlike yesterday, all of you will be in communication with mission control via your UQC underwater phones. The UQC is an acoustical modem that operates at a speed of twelve hundred baud maximum—very slow. It can carry voice communications and minimal data, but almost all the heavy data has to be archived for downloading once you surface. We’ll deploy special sonobuoys above where you’re working to pick up the signals and relay them to mission control. But because of the minuscule throughput, there will be a time delay before we’ll actually be able to view them on the surface. Also, because these are acoustical signals, they’re easily blocked. Gideon, when you’re inside the Rolvaag, your communications will be temporarily cut off—not just from mission control, but from the other DSVs.”

  Gideon nodded.

  “The two black boxes are vital. One contains all data and communications to and from the ship’s bridge. The second stored the CCTV video from security cameras set up throughout the ship. If we can recover both, we’ll have a detailed picture of the ship’s last moments. We know exactly where they’re located: in the electronics hub on the forecastle deck. With the Rolvaag lying on its side, you’ll have to enter the hull, make your way through the wreckage of the hold and beyond to a point underneath the forecastle deck, then cut through the deck to reach the electronics hub. The route has been fully programmed into your DSV, but we don’t know the condition or layout of the interior, so once you enter the hull you’ll have to use your own judgment. The John has a cutting torch on its mech arm. It’s AI-assisted, so there’s no fear of making a mistake. Questions?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  Glinn shifted, turning toward Alex.

  “Since we can’t map the, ah, Baobab with sonar, we’ll scan it using visual light and LiDAR. That’s your job. The LiDAR is a green-wavelength laser capable of penetrating sixty feet of water. We need to know the extent of this thing—not only the trunk, but its branches as well. Also, what are those tendrils Gideon saw on the ocean floor, and how far out do they go? And do they go to anything in particular?”

  Gideon, looking at Alex again as Glinn spoke, found his mind wandering back to the previous night. He quickly squashed the vivid images that rose in his mind. Given his own precarious medical condition, he thought, what was he doing, getting into a rel
ationship like this? Following the awful events that had transpired during their time on the Lost Island in the Caribbean, Glinn had healed amazingly well—and Gideon still held out some hope he might also be cured of his condition. Or was that just wishful thinking? As of yet, there was no evidence that anything had medically changed—no evidence that he might have any longer than nine months left to live. Was he becoming an old softie, or did this really feel, already, like more than a shipboard romance? What the hell should he do? Once again, he made a mighty effort to tune back in to Glinn, who was now talking to Garza.

  “Manuel, you will undertake a high-resolution sonar and LiDAR scan of the Rolvaag and the surrounding seafloor, extending out a radius of half a mile. I also want you to do a five-mile transect, starting at the Baobab and going out, to see how far the dead zone extends.”

  Glinn looked at the three in turn. “Finally, all three DSVs today are equipped with science baskets. If you see something interesting, notify mission control. We will use the UQC to look at it and decide whether it can be picked up and brought to the surface. If so, you’ll use your mechanical arms to place it in the science basket. The operation of the arm is simple and it, too, is AI-assisted, so previous experience is not required.”

  He ran through a few more details, then finished with a simple: “Let’s mount up.”

  Gideon climbed his submersible’s ladder up to the sail hatch. He stood there a moment, looking at the other two, watching as Alex gave him a smile and a wave, then lowered herself gracefully through the hatch. A moment later he grasped the bar and stepped into his own hatch, climbing down the miniature ladder into the personnel sphere. Unlike the previous day, he felt calm and confident.

  Ten minutes later, Gideon once again found himself staring through the forward viewport at a swirl of silver bubbles as John was lowered into the water. He heard the clank as the DSV was released and watched through the viewports as he drifted down into the infinite, darkening blue.

  15