“After our meeting in Los Angeles I never got to tell you how pleased I was that you decided to bring Benthic Explorer back to Sea Mount Olympus.”
“I’m glad,” Perry said, forcing a smile. He was bewitched by Suzanne’s eyes. He couldn’t tell if they were blue or green. “I only wish the drilling were proceeding more successfully.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Suzanne said. “But I have to admit, from my personal, selfish perspective I’m a happy camper. The seamount is a fascinating environment, as you’re about to see, and the drilling problems are getting me down there. So you won’t hear any complaints from me.”
“I’m glad it’s making somebody happy,” Perry said. “What’s so fascinating about this particular seamount?”
“It’s the geology,” Suzanne said. “Do you know what basaltic dikes are?”
“I can’t say that I do,” Perry admitted. “Other than I suppose they’re made out of basalt.” He laughed self-consciously and decided that her eyes were a light blue tinted green by the surrounding ocean. He also realized that he liked the sparing way she used makeup. She seemed to be sporting only the slightest bit of lipstick. Cosmetics were a sore subject for Perry and his wife. She worked as a makeup artist for a movie studio and wore a significant amount herself, to Perry’s chagrin. Now their eleven- and thirteen-year-old daughters were following their mother’s example. The issue had become a full-blown feud that Perry had little chance of winning.
Suzanne’s smile broadened. “Basalt dikes are indeed made of basalt. They are formed when molten basalt is forced up through fissures in the earth’s crust. What makes some of them so intriguing is that they’re geometric enough to look manmade. Wait till you see them.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Donald said. “The Oceanus is ready to dive and we should be on board. Even in a calm sea it’s dangerous to have her moored too long next to the ship.”
“Yes, sir!” Suzanne said smartly. She saluted crisply but with a lingering, mildly mocking smile. Donald was not amused. He knew she was teasing him.
Suzanne gestured for Perry to precede her down the companionway that led to a combination dive platform and launching dock. Perry started but hesitated as another involuntary shudder rippled down his spine. Despite his efforts to reassure himself about the safety of the submersible and despite his anticipation of Suzanne’s pleasant company, the foreboding he’d experienced earlier came back like a cold draft through an underground crypt which is what he thought the interior of the Oceanus was going to feel like. A voice in the back of his mind was telling him he was crazy to lock himself up inside a boat in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean that was already sunk.
“Just a second!” Perry said. “How long is this dive going to take?”
“It can be as short as a couple of hours,” Donald said, “or as long as you’d like. We usually stay down as long as the divers are in the water.”
“Why do you ask?” Suzanne asked.
“Because…” Perry sought for an explanation. “Because I have to call back to the office.”
“On Sunday?” Suzanne questioned. “Who’s at the office on Sunday?”
Perry felt himself blush anew. Between the night flights from New York to the Azores he’d gotten his days mixed up. He laughed hollowly and tapped the side of his head. “I forgot it was Sunday. It must be early Alzheimer’s.”
“Let’s move out!” Donald announced before descending to the dive platform below.
Perry followed, one step at a time, feeling like a ridiculous coward. Then, despite his better judgment, he inched across the swaying gangplank. It was shocking how much motion was involved in what appeared to be a calm sea.
The gangplank lead directly to the top of the Oceanus ’s sail. The deck of the submersible was already awash since the vessel was close to being neutrally buoyant. With some difficulty Perry got himself through the hatch. As he worked his way down into the sub he had to press tight against the steel ladder’s icy cold rungs.
The interior was as tight a space as Mark had warned. Perry began to doubt the claims that there was room for ten people. They’d have to be packed like sardines. Contributing to the cramped atmosphere, the walls of the front of the sub were lined with gauges, LCD readouts, and toggle switches. There wasn’t a square inch without a dial or knob. The four viewing ports seemed tiny within the profusion of electronic equipment. The only positive was that the air smelled clean. In the background Perry could make out the hum of a ventilation fan.
Donald directed Perry to a low-slung chair directly behind his on the port side. In front of the pilot’s seat were several large CRT monitors whose computers could construct virtual images of the seafloor to help in navigation. Donald was using the FM radio to talk with Larry Nelson in the dive control van as he continued the predive check of the equipment and electrical systems.
Perry heard the hatch close above with a thud followed by a distinctive click. A few moments later Suzanne dropped down from the sail with a good deal more agility than Perry had exhibited. She’d even managed to do it with the two large books in hand. She proceeded to hand them to Perry.
“I brought these for you,” she said. “The thick one is on oceanic marine life and the other is on marine geology. I thought it might be fun for you to look up some of the things we’ll be seeing. We don’t want you to get bored.”
“That was thoughtful,” Perry commented. Little did Suzanne realize, he was far too anxious to be bored. He felt the way he did when he was about to take off in an airplane: There was always the chance that the next few minutes would be his last.
Suzanne sat down in the starboard pilot’s seat. Soon she began flipping toggle switches and calling out the results to Donald. It was apparent the two worked as a team. Once Suzanne joined in the predive check, haunting pinging sounds began reverberating through the confined space. It was a unique sound that Perry associated with old World War II submarine movies.
Perry shivered again. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried not to think about his childhood trauma of being pinned under the covers by his brother. But the ploy didn’t work. He looked out the view port to his left and struggled to comprehend why he felt he was making the worst decision in his life by taking this short, routine dive. He knew it wasn’t a rational feeling since he recognized he was with professionals for whom this dive was commonplace. He knew the submersible was reliable and that he’d recently paid for an overhaul.
All at once Perry started. A masked face had materialized literally before his eyes. An involuntary, pitiful squeak escaped from Perry’s lips before he realized he was looking into the face of one of the submersible’s handlers who’d entered the water with scuba equipment. A moment later Perry saw other divers. In a slow-motion underwater ballet the divers quickly detached the handling lines. There was a knock on the outside of the hull. The Oceanus was on its own.
“All-clear signal received,” Donald said into the radio mike. He was talking to the launch team supervisor on the fantail. “Request permission to power away from the ship.”
“Permission granted,” a disembodied voice responded.
Perry felt a new linear motion add to the passive roll, yaw, and pitch of the sub. He pressed his nose against the view port and saw the Benthic Explorer move out of his field of vision. With his face still pressed against the Plexiglas he looked down into the oceanic depths where he was about to descend. The sunlight did strange visual tricks as it refracted off the undulating water surface above, making him imagine he was staring into the maw of infinity.