Chapter 4: (v.5) chapter 4

April 19, 2049

San Diego, California

Eileen rose and rushed through her morning ablutions. Her thoughts were focused on the upcoming events of the day—her last day on dry land for the foreseeable future. When she leaves her office today, she will move into her cabin aboard the Motor Vessel (MV) Wanderer and assume her duties as Department Head, chief of the civilian crew consisting of scientists, technicians, and their assistants. A tremendous task, but she knew she could do it.

Excited, she forced herself to take the time to tidy up her apartment for the student caring for it in her absence. Eileen emptied the refrigerator, grabbed her suitcase, and pulled it through the front door before locking it and heading toward the open garage. After stowing the case in her vehicle’s trunk, she slipped behind the wheel, powered up the car, and backed out, closing the door behind her as she drove away.

Her drive to work, even though she’d made the commute hundreds of times before, seemed to take forever before she negotiated the last turn into the university entrance.

Between her left hand busily pulling her gate pass from her shirt pocket and her right trying not to ram the post next to which the guard awaited with an expectant look, Eileen managed a complete stop and gave the plastic card to him. He examined it, comparing the horrible picture of her to the real person, and handed it back.

“Cleared to pass,” he said, waving her though.

“Thanks,” Eileen mumbled, pressing the accelerator.

She was late. Not fashionably late, just plain late. She’d been behind the most hesitant man to order coffee on the planet. Even then, after making his choice, he dawdled near the cream and sugar counter, further delaying her progress.

Parked in her slot sat the biggest vehicle she’d seen in years. So wide it took the entire spot, front to rear and side to side. The dull olive vehicle had brown and darker green splotches painted on it. She identified it after a moment as a military vehicle commonly known as a HUMVEE. A man in uniform, from his round cap with a truncated bill, under which his head was buzzed nearly bald, down to glossy black shoes, was walking away.

“Hey,” she called. “That’s reserved parking!”

He gave her a mock salute. “You bet, honey. Reserved for only the best.” He turned and marched away.

“Oh, isn’t this just great?” she growled to the world as she gave her steering wheel a smack with her palm. “Late and now I have to park in the south forty.”

What burned her up most was that the neat blue sign on the charging pole with 03 stenciled on it marked an assigned spot: hers. Seven rows back, she found an available slot and parked, slamming her door before opening the little hatch in the grill, tugging the cord out, and plugging her car into the charger.

Her demeanor did not improve as she trudged along the sidewalk and climbed the steps into her building. She used the shortcut that led directly to her office instead of taking the main hallway so she could shave a few seconds off her arrival time. Her private entrance showed no identifying sign of the owner, but her key fit.

Once inside, she set everything on her desk and walked to the door to her reception area, cracking it an inch. Before she stepped through, she heard a male voice, apparently arguing with her secretary.

“—appointment was for ten minutes ago. Is this learned academic guy, E. Kemper, even in yet?”

“Sorry, sir. Mondays are pretty hectic for us.”

Eileen closed the door, a wicked grin on her face. She’d show that pompous soldier.

She sat at her desk and tapped her keyboard, bringing her computer to life, and entered her logon identification before sending her assistant an internal message. It only pinged on her computer.

I’M HERE. HOLD THAT BUZZ-CUT OUT AT YOUR DESK AND COME HERE.

Her assistant, Mitzi Parsons, replied: OK.

Eileen’s door opened a few seconds later, and Mitzi entered. Eileen held her finger to her lips to keep her from speaking until it was closed.

“That’s the guy who parked in my spot this morning. Unless there are other HUMVEEs around,” Eileen said.

“Probably. He’s been hassling me for ten minutes, tapping his watch, and pacing, which drives me nuts. By the way, I’m sure he thinks you’re an old, grizzled, male professor. I didn’t tell him you weren’t.”

“Good. Whatever you do, don’t let him know I’m female.” She rubbed her hands with glee.

Mitzi grinned. “Yeah. Stick it to him.”

“Now go out and bring him in while I’m in the john.”

“Got it.” Mitzi turned and left the office, closing the door behind her.

Now alone, Eileen went to her little washroom and left the door barely ajar. She heard the office door open and footsteps cross the wood until they reached her area rug.

“Professor Kemper will be with you in a moment,” Mitzi said.

Eileen heard her cue, counted to a slow ten, and then emerged, patting the back of her hair.

The man, resplendent in his Marine uniform, did a classic double-take. “Okay, honey. Had your fun? Now where’s the Kemper guy?”

“You’re looking at him, honey.” She sat at her desk and left him standing in front of it. “And, yes, that was my parking spot you picked.”

Taken somewhat aback, the Marine hesitated, then came to near attention. “Ah. I’m truly sorry about that. I was running late and—”

“Tell me about it. You made me even later than you. Now, how about we start over?” She stood and extended her hand. “I’m Eileen Kemper, and I’d venture you’re Captain Phillip Bowder, United States Marine Corps. Am I correct?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’d like to start over.” He shook her hand. “Sorry about the parking thing. I won’t do it again.”

She gestured to her guest chair, the padded one. He sat and waited expectantly for her to begin his briefing.

She decided to lighten her stance. “Well, no harm done. After today, neither of us will need the spot, anyway. It seems you and I are going on a little cruise.”

“That’s what Uncle Marty said two weeks ago when I was at his place in D.C. for dinner. Don’t know exactly why me and my crew are along, but, hey, sounds like pleasant duty.”

“D.C.? Who is Uncle Marty?” She paused, thinking rapidly and made a connection, then stood, leaned forward, and placed her closed fists on the desk. “You mean President Martin Hendrick is your uncle?”

A flush rose behind his ears. “Um, yeah. I rarely tell anyone outright. Mostly because I get the same reaction you just gave me.”

Her thoughts raced as she regained her chair. Was he here to report back to “Marty” on her activities, or was it just another assignment for him? She decided on underplaying his political and familial connection. “Okay. We can leave it at that.” She raised a cautionary finger. “The second you throw Uncle Marty at me, I’ll trim you down to size. Got it.”

He sat at attention. “Yes, ma’am. Got it.”

“Good. Relax a little. Do you want some coffee? I think there might be some buns out there as well.”

Bowder eased his military bearing, slid back in his chair and nodded. “Sure. I could use a sugar hit right about now.”

Eileen Pressed a lever on her intercom, connecting her to her assistant. “Please bring in coffee for three, whatever goodies might be available, and yourself, complete with notepad.”

“Right away.”

Within two minutes, Mitzi appeared, carrying a silver tray in one hand. Bowder hopped to his feet and held the door for her.

“Thank you.” She grinned at the handsome Marine. “Shall I pour, ma’am?”

Eileen gave her a sharp look. “Oh, now don’t you start. I’m not old enough to be called ma’am. Yes. Pour for the three of us.”

Before sitting, Captain Bowder snatched a sticky bun from the tray, cupped it in a napkin, and sat, awaiting his coffee.

Mitzi served it in a thick off-white mug and raised her eyebrows while pointing to the cream and sugar. “None, either, or both?”

He waved a hand across the mug and inhaled. “None will be just fine. Hate to ruin excellent coffee.”

“My feelings exactly.” Eileen took a bun for herself. She’d moved from behind her desk to a chair opposite her visitor, sat, and crossed her legs at the knee. “If you’d take notes, Mitzi, we can get the true briefing underway.”

“Yes, Eileen,” Mitzi replied.

“First thing. I go by Eileen. If we’re going to be working together, we shouldn’t stand on ceremony. Do you answer to Phil or Phillip?”

“Phil will be fine, Eileen. Do you want me to ask questions as we go, or wait until a stopping point?”

“As we go. Better that way. How much have you been told already?”

“Not a lot. Besides my father, Uncle … er, the President, gave me a brief overview. We’re to investigate the strange things happening undersea in the far South Pacific. Dad mentioned you have another reason but said I’d best talk to you about it.”

“The second reason will come later. First, we need to spin you up on the data leading up to the creation of this whole investigative effort. My take on it, after reading an extensive file, is that there are unexplained rises in sea temperatures where there should be none. My theory is it could be a new subsurface volcano about to burst into life.

“Data gathered so far supports this. Ocean currents have changed direction. Not by much, but enough to indicate a rising seamount blocking their movement. Oceanic life, among them whales, will not enter the area. Naval units have observed quite a few dead or dying fish on the surface.

“Most telling is the color and consistency of the waters in that general location. Samples have shown there is lessening salinity coupled with sediment from the ocean floor. That’s a far distance to be carried up by normal current action.

“Questions?”

“Has any deep diving been done to verify any of this?”

“No. There is a ship heading that way, but it is broad-beamed and slow. It won’t be in position for another week or ten days. It’s coming from Taiwan. On deck is a bathyscaphe similar to Trieste, but vastly improved. It will be cross-decked to Wanderer when it arrives. There is supposed to be a sub driver that comes with it.”

“Who mans it? Ah, persons it?”

“Me, I hope. Along with maybe another technician. I’m told it’s quite cramped,” Eileen replied, smiling.

“Works for me. I’ve made no real deep dives. Mostly SCUBA depths except for one hardhat dive. Didn’t like it much.”

Eileen continued to outline their immediate task and long-term goals. Phillip asked questions at various points, displaying at least a rudimentary knowledge of oceanography. When asked, he admitted taking a crash course once he’d been ordered to the team.

By the time they dissected the mission, the rolls were gone, and Mitzi had refilled the coffee carafe twice more. They’d established well-defined lines of command and control and both promised to try not to overstep their boundaries.

“Militarily, you will be in charge, Phil. I have zero training in that field,” Eileen told him. “What you say, goes. And, please, if I ask you to do something you think is a bad idea, let me know.”

“I’ll certainly do that, Eileen. Same goes for me. I sometimes tend to be a bit overbearing. Stomp on me when that happens. And, once again, I’m sorry about the parking spot.”

Eileen waved his apology away as she stood and held her hand out. “Welcome aboard, Phil. I see nothing but good things ahead for both of us.”

“I certainly hope so.” He shook her hand. Picking up his hat, he centered it on his head, snapped a quick salute while smiling, and marched toward the door. As he took hold of the knob, he turned. “See you on the dock this afternoon.”

“You bet,” Eileen called to his retreating figure.

Mitzi rose and snapped her pad closed, garnering Eileen’s attention. “He turned out okay, didn’t he?”

“I’d say so. We may not need his military expertise, but if we do, I bet he’s just the man who can supply it. I hope it won’t be like using a grenade to open a walnut.”