He tried to block out his growing anxiety by studying the information packet on Deeplab IV Lieutenant Sautran had given them before departing for the depths.
The habitat was configured in three pressure resistant modules connected by a center, vertical corridor. Each module was actually three pressure resistant spheres set inside the outer protective cylinder wall, so there were a total of nine spheres, each independent of the others as far as pressure integrity goes. The only way into each sphere was through a hatch oriented toward the main corridor. The bottom of the main corridor had a hatch in it, allowing access to the ocean and submersibles.
Total living space was about 4,000 square feet. which when Dane divided by 9, didn’t make him feel any better. And square was the wrong term to use as there seemed to be an obsession for round shapes in all the designs from habitat to submersible. Dane understood that was the best shape to handle the enormous pressures they would encounter but understanding didn’t necessarily entail happiness.
A new voice came through the headset- Captain Stanton. “Deeplab is in place at seventeen thousand feet. They report everything is working fine. You’re cleared to descend and link up.”
“Roger that,” DeAngelo said.
“Godspeed and good luck,” Stanton said. The cable link- their only means of communication, went dead as the divers on the outside disconnected it.
There was sudden movement.
“All right, we’re free,” DeAngelo hands were wrapped around the two levers. “What you’re feeling is the swell. That will be gone in a minute.” He let go of the right lever and pushed the center bar up. Dane felt out of balance, as if his head were lower than the rest of his body.
“We’re going down,” DeAngelo said. “I want to get clear of surface effect, then I’ll trim us out.”
A minute passed and the bobbing motion was gone. “OK,” DeAngelo said. “I’m getting us balanced.” He continued speaking as he worked. “The ship has several small ballast tanks placed around the hull. I’m shifting air to give us neutral buoyancy and also to balance us exactly, fore and aft.” He held a hand over the mike. “I could have done it by computer, but I’ve learned never to ask a lady their weight- it’s easier to do it manually.”
Dane glanced up at the screen showing the rear sphere. Sin Fen and Ariana were trying to get as comfortable as possible.
“Done,” DeAngelo said. “We’re heading down.” He pressed forward on the center bar, then pulled back on both levers, the right one further back than the left. “We’re going down in a half-mile left turn spiral.”
“How long until we’re there?” Dane asked. The only sound since they slipped under the surface of the water had been the hum of the engines and DeAngelo’s running commentary. At least there was none of the creaking and cracking noises Dane associated with going deep underwater, a legacy of too many World War II submarine movies.
“We’re going down at four hundred feet a minute,” DeAngelo said. “To get to seventeen thousand feet will take about forty-five minutes.”
“Have you been in the lab before?” Dane asked.
DeAngelo shook his head. “I didn’t even know something like Deeplab IV existed before Foreman lined all this up. The military must have kept it deep in the black.” He smiled. “No pun intended.”
“None taken,” Dane said. He studied the outside camera view relayed on the screens in front. The blue water quickly became dark green, then began fading to black.
“Lights on,” DeAngelo flipped a switch and a halo of light surrounded the sub. To Dane it felt as if they were suspended in a black void, with no sense of movement, totally cut off from the rest of the world.
“The pipe is off to our left,” DeAngelo said. “I’m going to spiral down around it, but keep it at a safe distance.”
On the surface above Deepflight, Captain Stanton was settled into his command chair, a large, deep leather seat bolted to the deck directly behind the helmsman station. There was the traditional wheel at the station, but more importantly, an extremely accurate ground positioning receiver currently getting input from five GPS satellites. Next to the GPR was a series of controls for the thrusters that kept the Glomar in position. They were run by computer, insuring that the large ship stayed within half a foot of the same spot on the surface of the ocean.
With the automated positioning system and the automated dampening system on the pipe there was little for those on board the Glomar to do other than wait. It was a situation Stanton was used to. He reached into the pocket on the side of his chair and pulled out a paperback. He had just opened it to the first page when his radar man broke the silence.
“Sir, I have a contact!”
Stanton put the book down. “Where?”
“Directly below. Depth twenty-seven thousand feet.”
Stanton stood and walked over to the radar console. “That can’t be.”
“It just appeared on-screen, sir.”
“What is it?”
“It doesn’t fit any known profile, sir. It’s big!”
“What about the profile we were given from the Scorpion?” Stanton asked. The thought of something six times the size of a Soviet Typhoon class sub staggered even the captain of a ship the size of the Glomar.
“It could be, sir. Matches up in size. It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen before.”
“Where did it come from? How come you didn’t pick up something that big earlier?”
“I don’t know, sir. It just appeared.”
“What’s it doing?” Stanton asked as he went over to the communications array.
“Ascending, sir. Toward Deeplab.”
Stanton picked up the phone that linked the Glomar to Deeplab through the cable attached to the pipe. “How quickly?”
“Very fast, sir! Depth twenty thousand feet and rising!”
Stanton picked up the phone. “Deeplab, this is Glomar.”
The phone crackled with static. Stanton thought he heard something, a voice, but he couldn’t be sure. “Deeplab, this is Glomar,” he repeated.
“Eighteen thousand feet and rising!”
Stanton’s hand tightened on the phone. “Deeplab, this is Glomar.” He pointed a finger at his communication’s officer. “Get me Foreman.”
“Seventeen thousand feet. Holding.”
“Deeplab, this is Glomar.” The only sound in the receiver of the handset was static.
“I’ve got Foreman on SATCOM,” the com officer held out another phone.
Stanton paused as he grabbed the phone- the entire ship shook and there was a loud screeching sound from the derrick.
“We’re deeper now than the Titanic,” DeAngelo said.
“Is that supposed to cheer me up?” Dane asked. He shook his head, trying to ease a pounding in his left temple. “Sin Fen?” he said into the boom mike.
“Yes?”
Dane looked up at the screen displaying Ariana and Sin Fen. “How are you feeling?”
“My head hurts.”
“Mine too,” Dane said. “Something’s not right.”
DeAngelo scanned his gauges. “Everything’s reading correctly.”
“Not here,” Dane said.
“Deeplab,” Sin Fen said.
Dane nodded. “Something’s wrong.”
“Should I turn back?” DeAngelo asked.
Dane closed his eyes and was silent for a few seconds. “No. We keep going.”
“Get me Nagoya!” Foreman ordered. He turned back to the microphone that linked the War Room with the Glomar Explorer. “Status?”
“The contact is descending,” Captain Stanton’s voice echoed out of the speakers that lined the roof of the cavern. “Twenty thousand feet and going down as quickly as it came up.”