Sea Station Umbra

by JOHN PAUL CATER

  “The station operates in three eight-hour shifts,” she continued, “graveyard, early, and late. That’s 0000 hours to 0800 hours for graveyard, 0800 to 1600 hours for early, and 1600 to 2400 hours for late. Now since you’re both on non-essential duty and you need to interact with all the personnel you can work whenever you want. Because there’s no day or night down here we work around the clock but we keep the first and second team separated. And their shifts will vary depending on task urgency.”

  She looked around lowered her voice and continued:

  “The first team is concerned with the A-mission of radiation monitoring while the second’s concern is the signal intercept Z-mission. Got that? You can tell which team you’re interacting with by looking at their ID badges. The A-team has a small notch cut from the right corner of the badge while the Z team has a full top margin. Almost undetectable for the unknowing it’s there if you look closely. Now a crucial warning: never refer to anything Z unless you’re in the walk-in vault in Quadrant 4. I shouldn’t be telling you this here but I know this week’s graveyard shift includes only Z staff so we’re secure here. You’ll learn more about that over time but consider that information under your clearance Umbra Z.”

  “What about Ivy? She can probably hear,” I asked remembering she was just over my shoulder.

  “She’s cleared way above everything on this station so no worries. Just be careful because she can tell if you’re discussing Z-information with A-cleared staff. That’s a no-no and you’ll be quickly flagged with a security violation isn’t that right Ivy?”

  From the wall, she answered:

  “Correct, Susan Williams, and you’re correct there are no A staff in your vicinity at this time but you should be in the vault for this conversation. Minor violation but good test.”

  She backed her chair from the table, stood and looked at us.

  “You guys done with coffee?”

  We nodded together and stood. I dreaded the thought of more touring and fortunately, she must have read my mind.

  “Let’s save the rest of the tour for later today after you catch some Z’s. I know you both must be exhausted so why don’t you head off to your quarters and hit it. There’s no reveille in the station so don’t worry about being awakened by a bugle or ship’s 1MC or anything like that. Just tell Ivy your desired wake up time and she’ll awaken you pleasantly.”

  Turning to leave with Briscoe, I spun back.

  “Wait, where are our quarters?”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. I forgot. The time must be getting to me too. Follow me and I’ll show you.”

  She wound us around unused workstations to the front of the room then through the convex bulkhead door into the core chamber. There a cylindrical elevator awaited us its curved door open.

  “Please push Deck 2,” she said nodding to the Chief.

  The door slid shut and swiftly we rose, sucked up like a money carrier in a bank’s pneumatic tube. The Deck 2 light illuminated immediately followed by the whishing of the opening door.

  “Pneumatic elevator huh?” Briscoe said.

  “No. Hydraulic elevator,” she answered, “Uses external water pressure to push it up and down. Another Bowman invention.”

  “Of course,” I said rolling my eyes.

  Through the elevator’s open door, she led us around a circular hallway I estimated to be ten feet wide, its inner wall surrounding the core chamber. Above each outer wall door (I counted seventeen) was a crewman’s name, his rank and military affiliation except for the last six. All affiliations were U.S. Navy except three: J. David Bowman – PhD, DV#1 and DV#2. Three more door titles extended down the hall beyond those: Head 1, Head 2 and Rec Hall. These last six must be suites I thought: they’re twice the width of the others. Must be my lucky day.

  “Pick your poison,” she smiled returning us to the Distinguished Visitor rooms. Then pointing past them she added, “There are unisex heads down there so knock before entering and use the Rec Hall freely when you need a break, coffee, or snacks.”

  I hated when the Chief and I had to choose between anything. I always deferred to him and he always threw it back to me usually winning.

  “You take DV#1,” I said, “You’re older and wiser. Suits you better.”

  Snickering he bantered, “No, Marker you just want to be nearer the bathrooms. If I am older and wiser as you said then I need to be closer to the bathrooms. Admit it.”

  Agreeing I pushed open the door to DV#1 and glanced inside.

  Briscoe did the same with DV#2 and exclaimed, “Wow there’s a lotta room in here, but it’s kinda like a wacky-house bowling alley.”

  “You should see mine,” Williams said. “It’s not one of these suites but it’s really quite comfortable. They do take a little getting used to but they grow on you especially with the rocking of the deep-water currents at night.”

  She turned to leave and looked back.

  “Oh, you’ll find a dresser with a stock of one-size-fits-most jumpsuits, shirts, socks, underwear and as for shoes we recommend always wearing dive boots because the decks are often slippery. Ivy is on the wall at the head of your bunks; you can’t miss her glowing eye. So good night, gentlemen. See you around 1000 hours in the Mess on Deck 1. Okay?”

  We both poked out our heads from our rooms and watched her walk to her room six doors down shaking her head.

  As her door closed, I looked back at him. “I gotta hit the head before I bed down, Chief. See you in the morning.”

  “Number one or number two?” he asked.

  “Hey, Chief, that’s none of your business,” I answered, wondering why he’d even ask.

  Snickering he answered, “No dummy I meant head number one or two. I’ll use the other one.”

  “Oh,” I laughed, “I’ll take one you take two.”

  “Roger that, Marker. Right behind you. Too much coffee. I’ll be rising around nine; still not comfortable with going back on military time.”

  “But you’ll get used to it,” I added, chuckling down the hall.

  Not long after that I returned and settled into my pie-slice of a room. It was eight feet across at the door thirty feet deep and the far wall, I stepped off at about twenty feet across. After confirming my measurements, Ivy assured me that everything was okay in the station and that the incident with Li was just an anomaly caused by human error. It appeared that we might be going home early.

  Sleep soon overtook my curiosity ending my day… then from outside a loud booming thunderclap and rumbling shook me from my bunk.

  Chapter 10. The Midnight Zone

  The last time a bone-chilling fear of the ocean affected me like this was when I was ten on the beach with Jeremy and he challenged me to enter the water. Thinking back to that time my panic probably wasn’t justified. The water had taken my little brother and in my young mind, I blamed it. Now Jeremy was in my mind again surrounding me with his creation: a giant half gumball machine teetering on the bottom of the Pacific. Informed that it was an engineering temple of safety, I expected it to be just that, not the spook house I was experiencing. Dealing with the unknowns of a failed promise was far worse.

  Rushing from my quarters, I ran into Briscoe exiting from next door wide-eyed and searching the hallway. All at once, doors down the hall crashed opened and seven crewmen flew into hallway appearing startled and confused.

  “What in the hell was that?” one asked. Another mentioned that the jolt threw him from his bunk. A brief chaos ensued as the hallway filled with questions mostly about Bowman’s whereabouts.

  One specific question caught my ear, “Where’s the Captain? Edwards? He’s not here either.”

  Lt. Williams in camouflage pajamas scanned the small group and remembered.

  “Last I saw of him he was prepping SeaPod 2 for today’s dives and intending to repair its AutoDocker.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “Oh my God! I wonder if he’s okay.”

  Across the hallway on the core wall, the Ivy
panel brightened and glowed steadily with the answer.

  “No. I am sorry, Susan Williams, he is not. He took SeaPod 2 out of the bay an hour ago saying he was testing the AutoDocker but never came back. I warned him against diving alone but he insisted it was safe. I have analyzed the frequencies and source of the vibrations that rocked the dome with two conclusions. Either the dome just had a direct hit from a wandering sperm whale or a SeaPod impact just below Q1 on the crawler base. I have no other information. However I do not find the Captain’s biometric signals registering anywhere in the station so he must still be away on the outside.”

  She ran to Ivy’s wall console.

  “Did you try to SeaCom him?”

  “Yes of course. He did not respond but it is possible that he was out of range.”

  “What about sonar? See anything?”

  “No. My sonar was in the passive mode. There were no sounds other than the SeaPod’s motors and some echolocation clangs from nearby sperm whales. They seem to be very active near Discovery One lately.”

  “Ivy, heat and prep two Exosuits in Pod Bay 1 for an immediate dive,” Williams said, “Unlike Edwards I insist on going out with a diving buddy. His action was rather careless.”

  The Lieutenant glanced back at our group.

  “Who wants to go with me?”

  Briscoe held up his hand.

  “Count me in. Where do I start?”

  He stared at me questioningly but I shook my head no. I wanted to volunteer but I had never been in an Exosuit and now was not the time to learn. I bowed to him and smiled my approval.

  “Good,” she said, “Get into your jumpsuit and dive boots and meet me in Pod Bay 1 in five minutes. Marker, you’re up next time but you can help us load.”

  Off the elevator onto Deck 1 Briscoe and I found the door leading from the core chamber into Quad 1 by its large overhead letters. Entering the room passing banks and banks of large electronics racks with indicator lights flashing wildly I immediately knew it was the computing quadrant. It was warmer than Quad 2, hummed with whirring fans, and smelled of electronics.

  On the rear wall a stenciled sign over a downward pointing red arrow read Pod Bay 1 Hatch. It caught Briscoe’s eyes and he veered off toward the arrow looking at his watch. My watch said six minutes had passed since Lt. Williams told us to meet her and she was nowhere around. Suddenly Williams’ head poked up through the hatch; an eerie sight appearing to be a separated cropped blond-haired head resting on the floor. “Hurry your asses up,” she squawked. “Dr. Bowman and I are waiting.”

  Briscoe followed her straight down but I hesitated leery of meeting Jeremy after almost twenty years. Would he recognize me? What would he be like? Was he really the tyrant they claimed he was?

  I took a deep breath and started down the ladder.

  Before my foot could hit the last rung, a somewhat familiar voice rang out through the bay.

  “Well if I didn’t see this I wouldn’t believe it. I saw the name Matt Cross on the DV boarding list but never in a million years would I have expected it to be you my aquaphobic friend and sandcastle apprentice from long ago. How in the hell are you, Matt? Long time no see.”

  I smiled pleasantly surprised at his warm greeting and held out my hand for a handshake. Instead, he rushed over, ignored my hand, and hugged me.

  “Hello old friend,” I smiled. “It looks like you’ve done quite well for yourself Jeremy.”

  I’m not sure if I would have recognized him had I not known it was him. He had shot up in height now reaching two inches over me (and I’m six feet tall) lost some weight to the point of almost being skinny and wore Ben Franklin frameless round glasses on the tip of his nose. With his short graying hair, black turtleneck, and faded jeans, he reminded me of someone but I couldn’t quite put my finger on who. I glanced away shaking the familiar but unidentifiable image from my mind.

  “This is some sandcastle you built.”

  “Thank you, Matt, but I go by Dave now. Jeremy just brings back too many bad juvenile memories.”

  “Well then, Dave it is. You do realize that you’re the reason I’m here don’t you?”

  “And, Matt, you’re one reason Discovery One is here. Many of your additions and suggestions for my sandcastles were incorporated into my design of this station; you should notice them as you tour it.”

  “Like the submarine core?” I asked.

  “Exactly. But how did I influence you?”

  “That day on the beach before you left. Remember what you said?”

  “Something about not fearing the water like a wild animal I’m sure. I wasn’t smart enough to create that maxim myself. I learned it from my dad. Except he continued on with words that I never told you. He always added ‘Learn from it. Live by it. Shape it. Make it your world.’”

  “Ahem,” Williams interrupted, “I hate to break up this old home week, but in case you’ve forgotten we’re supposed to be diving right now. Briscoe’s already suited up and I need help getting into mine. Marker can you assist me while Dr. Bowman fires up SeaPod 1?”

  “Sure, where do I start?”

  Having sealed her in the Exosuit, I rolled the hatch stairs back from SeaPod 1 and followed her instructions. After climbing the ladder, I closed and locked the hatch then pulled a microphone off the wall.

  “Ready. Now what?”

  “You’re now communicating with us on the bay intercom,” Williams answered. “See the green Flood Pod Bay button to your left?”

  “Yeah, got it.”

  “Push it. It’ll turn yellow as the bay fills then red about five minutes later when you can push the Open Pod Bay Door button. If you forget my instructions Ivy will do it automatically so don’t worry too much but never try to open the hatch lock with a red light. A tiny stream of seawater at this pressure can cut you in half. We call it a water knife. Norris lost part of his hand to one.”

  “Roger that,” I said.

  “The hatch does have a safety interlock that prevents its opening with a flooded bay but things around here have been so strange lately I wouldn’t trust it. Just remember: green – bay is clean, red – open you’re dead. Same for when we return; wait for the green to open the hatch. Got that?”

  “Well, I certainly hope so but what if the light fails goes dark? Then what?”

  “Then SeaCom us. We’ll let you know when it’s safe.”

  “All right. Ready for flooding?”

  “Briscoe’s got a pincer up, Bowman’s got thumbs up in the SeaPod, and I’m ready so go!”

  It was all new to me but very logical and mostly aligned with my prior diving experience. I had rarely used a floodable diving bay but it seemed safe enough so I was comfortable with pushing the Flood button.

  “It’s a go,” I said.

  Five minutes passed before the yellow light on the wall changed to red. During that time, the floor under my feet had roared and vibrated with the flooding water’s flow but stopped abruptly when the red light illuminated.

  “Opening pod bay door,” I said into the microphone.

  Slowly and cautiously, I reached up and flipped open the safety cover and pushed the button.

  “We’re out, yippee,” said Briscoe sounding euphoric. The last time I heard him that happy he was wearing the same type suit about to be accidentally dislodged from the hull of my mini-sub only to float lost at sea for twelve suspenseful hours. Nevertheless, he loved that life.

  “SeaPod 1 leaving the bay,” Bowman said. A motor rumbled below me then whirred away into the distance.

  The silence for the next few minutes was deafening. I expected something, anything from the SeaCom and then it came.

  “Oh my God! I found the SeaPod. Wrecked down on the base of the crawler platform. Broken into pieces. Tangled in one of our tractor wheels,” said Bowman. “Divers get over here and help me find Edwards. I don’t see him.”

  “Be right there, Dave,” Lt. Williams said. “Briscoe, where are you?”

  “Right behin
d you, Lieutenant, coming up fast.”

  “Yeah, now I see your floods. Follow me. I’ve got the SeaPod in sight. Heading down.”

  More silence.

  “The hatch cover is open bent backward. Edwards is not inside. The cockpit is flooded empty of life,” Williams screamed distorting the SeaCom. “Dave, can you point your floods down at me?”

  “Just a minute, Lieutenant. Maneuvering around.”

  “I see the point of impact on the crawler base right below the bridge’s viewport,” she yelled. “A few feet higher and it would have taken out our helm.”

  That was the first time I had heard the bridge mentioned. I knew it had to exist but had no idea where it was located in the station. It resided in the crawler base a logical place for the driver near the ocean floor with a full view of the seafloor ahead.

  “Ivy, activate the bridge’s forward floods,” Bowman’s voice crackled.

  “Wow!” said Briscoe.

  “What a mess. I don’t see the Captain but we’re not going anywhere until we pull this wreckage from these forward wheels.”

  “Briscoe, can you move anything with your claws?” Williams asked.

  “Unh. Argh! Damn!”

  “No. It’s locked in tight. Looks like it’s going to take a bigger force than I’ve got and my power level is dropping.”

  “Back off guys and let me grab it with my claw arms. I can try pulling it with my reverse thrusters. Maybe that’ll work.”

  Seconds went by.

  “We’re clear, Dave. Move in.”

  “Got it in my grippers. Careful of my prop wash divers. Don’t want to blow you guys around.”

  “See anything to grab onto, Briscoe?” Williams asked.

  “Yeah. Got a handgrip bar in my pincers. You?”

  “I’m hanging on to another one. You’re okay to go, Dave.”

  Moments later the intercom crackled with Briscoe’s voice.