Chapter 8: (v.3) Chapter 8

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May 8, 2049

Motor Vessel Wanderer

19.70N 150.5E

There were three technicians on duty in the wet lab, so named because they monitored and controlled most underwater instrumentation from this space. It was roughly twenty feet by fifteen, with racks of equipment along both short sides. A plotting table stood in the middle, unused at the moment.

Two of the techs were playing chess in a corner while the third sat in a chair positioned so that every video screen was visible. She chewed gum, making a snapping noise that caught the attention of one player.

“Jess, you’re making that noise again.”

“Oh, sorry,” she said, leaning over a trash can and dropping the gum in.

Ten minutes later, the sidescan sonar emitted a loud “Pong!”

Heads snapped around to view the central screen, larger than the rest. It automatically displayed alerts.

“Whoa,” Terry said, leaving the chess game and striding over to the screen. He poked a finger at a rising waveform. “Looks like a big shelf forming up to port.”

Jean, struggling with a way to save her endangered knight, adjusted switches for a shorter range and the waveform doubled in size. A scale appeared along one side, showing the shelf was nearly five-hundred feet high. “You’re right. Can’t get a better picture, though. Too far off to the side. Jess, note the time and location. We can pick it up again on our next pass.”

“You bet,” Jess replied, dragging a logging program up on another computer and making the entry. “This is officially ‘Anomaly One.’ Shall I flag it for review at tomorrow’s meeting?”

“Definitely,” Jean said. “Set a timed email for Prof Kemper, too.”

She typed rapidly. “Done.”

They continued to watch as the plateau slid off the scope as the ship passed by. Once it disappeared, the chess game resumed and Jess picked up her paperback once more.

Twenty minutes of intense field work had just interrupted a boring watch.

* * *

Eileen Kemper rose from her bunk, glanced at the clock on the bulkhead, and groaned. “Another time change last night. I’m going to have to rush through my run so I won’t be late to my own meeting.”

She did her morning ablutions, donned shorts and a sports bra, tied her sneakers, and headed out for a brief run.

Dawn tinged the eastern horizon light peach when she dogged the watertight door to the main deck and began jogging. A Wanderer mile was a set distance around it. She stopped before her usual two miles and headed back to her cabin to shower and dress.

After breakfast, she sat at the head of the table in the conference room and reviewed her notes. Ten minutes later, the attendees began filling chairs. Most carried donuts, cookies, and had steaming cups of their favorite hot drink.

Kirby Peterson arrived, handed Eileen a maple swirl, and added a cup of hot chocolate. “Here you go.”

She smiled at him gratefully. “Thanks, Kirby.”

Once everyone settled in to listen, she began. “We had a fairly steep seamount or plateau on our sidescan last night. It was off to port at about the limit of our range. Preliminary observations has it at over five-hundred feet high. It appears to be flat on top, which I find unusual.” She turned to the offgoing supervisor. “Any more data on this?”

“No, ma’am. We logged the datum and will adjust our course to cover it on the next pass.”

“Good. Good. Anything else ring bells?”

The supe shook her head. “Nope. Nothing to report.”

Eileen faced Kirby. “Is the ROV ready to go?”

“Last time we ran diagnostics was two days ago. Passed with no anomalies.”

“Excellent. When this mount shows on the scope, we’ll slow the ship and launch to check this thing out.”

Kirby rubbed his hands together. “Raring to go.”

* * *

A remote control position sat in a corner of a larger compartment. Four curved-screen monitors on the bulkhead gave the operator a nearly 180-degree view of what the ROV was seeing. Two joysticks and several special-function buttons and gauges completed their consoles.

Two padded seats, fixed to the deck, sat in front of the control panels. At the moment, technicians preparing for the launch of their remote vehicle occupied both. The view on the screens alternately showed the blue expanse of the ocean, with waves marching to the horizon and a foreshortened glimpse of the stern of the ship.

“Can you kill the big displays for a moment?” Eileen asked. “They’re making me dizzy.”

With a press of a button, the four screens blanked except for a quarter-sized inset on one screen showing the same view as earlier.

“Thank you.”

The speaker in the corner relayed, issued, and received checks and counterchecks until the launch was imminent.

As the ROV slipped into the water, the main screens came alive. Bubbles cleared to reveal the deeper green-blue as the little submersible sank below the surface.

“Now, we wait,” Kirby pronounced.

Both he and Eileen sat in seats arranged in a semicircle behind the two pilots. Routine commands, adjusted controls, and milestone depths were the only voices heard for over an hour. Still, eyes remained fixed on the monitors for a first glimpse of anything other than the empty gleam of powerful lights.

“There!” one operator said, pointing to the left screen. “We have contact.”

The second driver twisted a controller to bring the item into center view. “Ridge appears pretty normal to me, ma’am.”

“Yeah. Seems that way. Go autonomous and let the ROV map the mount.”

“Yea, ma’am.” The snap of a switch. “Hands off.”

The scene tilted somewhat, and the sea bottom moved aft as the rover set off unguided. The depth indicator changed occasionally, but mostly the terrain remained mostly flat.

Two hours later, having discovered nothing of interest, Eileen rose from her chair. “Okay, I’ve seen enough. Keep the instrumentation running but pull the rover back to the surface. We’ll go over the data in the lab.”

“Done,” the driver on the left said, flipping switches and pulling his controller back.

An equally tedious return trip to the surface, and a routine recovery back aboard ship, had the rover tucked into its cradle in less than an hour.

Once the equipment was tied down and plugged into chargers, they retired to the team conference area.

At the front of the room, a tech tapped a large paper chart with a pointer. “What we have here is an unmapped seamount, which is a plus, but there isn’t anything unusual about it at all. It’s flat and sits roughly 1500 meters above the floor. We calculate the top at just over seventy-eight square nautical miles and oval in shape.”

“Nothing on that entire plain?” Kirby asked.

“Other than a few rather large boulders, no.”

“Well shoot.”

Eileen chuckled. “I’d have to second that.”

* * *

A day later, Kirby, pilot of the larger undersea exploration vehicle, sat his lunch tray on the table next to Eileen and Mitzi and slid into the seat.

“Hey there. Either of you want to go with me when I check out some equipment in the sub?” he asked, picking up a taco and biting the end.

“I don’t have anything scheduled this afternoon,” Eileen said. “Do I, Mitzi?”

“Nothing I can think of offhand. Staff meeting isn’t until tomorrow morning. I can’t go,” Mitzi replied. “Reports to do and messages to file.”

Eileen grinned. “Okay. I’ll go with you.”

“Great. Be on the fantail in an hour.”

Eileen cleaned up the detritus of her lunch before standing. “See you then.”

In her quarters, she changed into a set of long-sleeved denim overalls. She knew how chilly the small craft might become in the depths and dressed accordingly. Before setting out aft, she finished up the last of her constant stream of paperwork, tossed the pen aside, and headed for the door.

The wind was brisk when she reached the stern. It flowed past the stay wires of the mast with an eerie whine. In the lee of an upper deck overhang, she watched Kirby prepare to get underway. He checked the battery charges and every external light. Many were as bright as he’d mentioned, throwing stark shadows against the white of the superstructure.

Soon it was time to board. She and Kirby slipped through the snug hatch and waited while dive tenders latched and checked the seal. Once ready, the crane hoisted the Human Occupied Vehicle (HOV) into the air, swung it to the side and lowered it to the surface of the sea.

For a time, while Kirby went through his instrument checklist, Eileen felt her stomach flip as they bobbed around like a cork.

“Okay. Lets get this thing underway,” he announced finally, snapping switches and pushing forward of the control yoke.

Once underwater and moving downward, the ride smoothed out, allowing them time to talk. It would take a while to reach the depth Kirby had set.

Eileen began, “Back in your astronaut days—hic—did you ever get into space?”

“Nope. Did all the training, though. I was first alternative cargo officer for one shuttle shot, but it launched without the other guy getting sick. I was bummed. I quit the program a year later.”

“And now you drive subs.” Eileen snickered. “The opposite—hic—direction.”

“Yeah. I guess you could put it that way. Still, it’s pretty rewarding. We know a lot more about space than we do about what’s only a few miles under us. I enjoy being a part of that.”

“Amen.”

* * *

In silence, broken only by the hum of the electric drive motors and an occasional hiccup, Kirby and Eileen cruised through the depths, the pilot occasionally making course changes.

She hiccuped again. “Sorry. Tacos for lunch. Get them every time with fiery food.”

“Don’t eat spicy then.”

“Have to. —hic—It’s almost a craving. If they’re there—hic—I must eat them.”

Kirby chuckled softly.

Eileen continued with the hiccups.

Ten minutes later, after such another course change, an alarm sounded.

Bleet!

Eileen leaned forward in her chair. “What was that?”

Bleet!

“Proximity alarm,” Kirby said, peering at the scanning sonar display. “Something big is behind us.”

Bleet! … Bleet!

Hic!

Eileen shivered, rubbing her arm.

Bleet! Bleet!

“Damn. Getting closer. I’m speeding up a little and changing course right.”

“Yes. Please do.”

The hum of the engines increased, and the compass spun to starboard.

Bleet! Bleet! Bleet!

“Still behind us!” Kirby said, voice rising,

He watched Eileen turn her head as if she could see aft, knowing full well equipment blocked the view. The edges of his lips quirked into a quick grin.

Bleebleebleebleebleebleebleet!

Kirby sat up straight, eyes fixed forward through the heavy glass port. “Whatever it is … it’s huge! Maybe it thinks we taste good.”

Eileen slapped Kirby’s shoulder. “Don’t say that!”

Bleet! Bleet!

Eileen’s voice quavered. “Does that mean it’s going away?”

“Could be.”

Bleet! … Bleet!

“I sure hope so,” Eileen said, shuddering. “Something that big could be trouble.”

Bleet!

Kirby chuckled.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Perhaps it just wanted to see if you still had the hiccups.”