The crane towered over the rail dock with the hooks already attached. Below it, criss-crossing the deck, shadows from the afternoon sun tracked the ship’s motion. A lazy breeze chilled the afternoon air.
“Ready to go?” asked Cross.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
They slid into the cockpit, closed the hatch over them, and said a brief prayer.
“Trident bridge, this is Glider. Copy?” said Cross.
“Loud and clear, Glider.”
“Winch us up,” he said.
The voice returned, “You’re on your way. Best of luck.”
The Glider floated freely for minutes, bobbing in the waves, while he caught a baseline GPS reading for the GINS system. Then he programmed in the new coordinates, hit the Auto switch and sat back awaiting their arrival over Eve.
Only minutes later, the target alarm sounded, red light flashing in sync, over the imaginary bulls-eye. “Boy, he stopped the ship right over her,” he said, adjusting the controls for the dive.
“Ready, Chief? Here’s your favorite part.”
“Let’s go find her.”
Grasping the arms’ joysticks, Cross chuckled, “Gotta make sure I drop the right thing. I’d hate to chase the scintillator probe to the bottom, still holding the pi-ball.”
Laughing, Briscoe said, “Yeah, Marker, get it right. No time for errors, now.”
Hydraulic pumps whined, the starboard claw opened, the Glider jerked, sending the flashing clone, beeping loudly, to the depths. Ten seconds later, Cross’s hands flashed over the controls dropping the Glider into a nosedive behind it. They were dropping just as before, the depth gauge spinning wildly.
Briscoe, held tightly, groaned and said, “Some day I’m going to get used to this.”
Cross laughed. “Don’t count on it, Chief. I never have.”
They raced toward the ocean floor, sea life forms zipped by the forward floods, glittering briefly as they passed. The pi-ball, flashing, leading them downward, held the distance.
Cross eased back the descent early this time, ready for the floor’s approach. It still came quickly. Then they were spiraling outward, searching for Eve.
The scintillator remained dark the first two hours. Its first flash jolted them, a blinding light in the darkness of their surroundings. They awaited the next orbit. It again flashed brightly, faster than last time.
“We’ve got a doozy, here. Eve’s pissed,” Cross said, switching off the autopilot.
“Where is she? Can’t see her.” His neck was extended, almost blocking the viewport.
Cross circled back around until the scintillator flashed rapidly.
Briscoe pointed forward. “There she is! Two o’clock, about five meters off starboard. In the silt. Big coral behind her.”
“Got her,” Cross said, turning the Glider toward the big coral blossom.
Shortly, they moved over her, gliding ten feet above the floor. The currents from the propellers caused her to roll in a small circle, leaving a trail in the mud.
He captured a GINS fix, then headed back to retrieve the pi-ball.
Grasping the clone’s handle precisely, firmly in the remaining manipulator arm, the Glider headed back to Eve, dropped it a few meters away; he relaxed when it hit. He backed off to stop the scintillator’s flashes, then hovered, looking down on her, watching the nearby beacon’s strobe light the ocean floor at regular intervals. Eve sparkled with each flash.
“Good job, Marker,” said Briscoe, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
“Think we should take her back with us?” asked Cross.
He checked his watch. “No too late. Besides, I have to cable her to the claw, remember?”
“Oh, yeah,” Cross said. “Let’s go home and get some rest. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”
“If there is a tomorrow,” Briscoe added, wistfully.
Readying the controls to surface, he accidentally bumped the arm’s release button for the scintillator claw. It teetered, then fell off to the floor below, flashing again as it neared Eve.
“Uh-oh,” Cross said, floundering with the controls as if could catch it. Instead, it fell quickly, throwing up a cloud of silt with its impact.
“Leave it, Marker. We won’t be needing it again. If that’s the only mistake you make, you still get an A.”
Laughing together at his mistake, they headed back to the ship.
“Trident bridge, this is Glider. Winch us up. We need some coffee.”
“I’ll open the Mess early for you, Glider,” Broward returned.
The hooks jolted on the rail dock, lifting them from below. Soon they were back on the deck, water draining from the rail dock, the Glider’s hull splashing the deck around them. The evening sun reflected in dabbles from the pooling water. Through the viewport, they saw a uniformed man standing, waiting for them.
Opening the hatch, Cross heard Broward’s voice. “Welcome back, boys. Did you find her?”
Briscoe poked his head through. “Does a bear shit in the woods, Captain? I told you I trained him well.”
“Any problems?”
“We found Eve but lost the scintillator, Captain. Sorry. Take it out of his pay.”
“Well never mind, that. Come down here. I want to shake your hands.”
The Captain, elated again, congratulated them, and said, “You know, I’m going to have to get you guys back in my Navy. I’m not saying that you’re good, you’re excellent. Courageous, too. The best that I’ve seen in all my navy days. You’d serve your country well, as you’re doing now. Think about it.”
“Well, Captain, just remember we’re only a contract away. Much better pay.”
Briscoe added, “Better hours, too.”
Shaking his head, relenting to their refusals, he said, “Then you both should be happy that tomorrow, one way or another, your job is done.” He moved closer, lowered his voice, and asked, “I’ve been thinking. It worries me. We’ve had Adam, now Eve; do you think there might be a third? Maybe Cain? Could Fogner have been that vile?”
Cross prepared them, smiling, “We’ll if he did, then we’re just going to have to go raise Cain.”
Broward and Briscoe stared, emotionless, thinking on his double-entendre, then burst out in laughter, guffawing and cackling. “That’s a good one, Cross. You men go have some coffee and warm up. I’m buying.”
The Captain followed them into Mess, filled his mug, then theirs, and ushered them to his table. “Thought I’d update you on where we stand.” His voice was quiet, serious, tentative. His eyes stared through his cup. “Your Exosuit is repaired, Briscoe, but the techs won’t approve your use until they test it. At daybreak, 0700, they’re going to drop it overboard for four hours, tethered and weighted, to the ocean floor below us. They’ll bring it up, examine it, and if it passes, it’s yours to wear. They expect to have it approved by eight bells, noon.”
Briscoe flinched. “My God, Captain, that gives us just short of four hours to reach it, attach it to the Glider and bring it back. If Gruber and Poole are right, and that’s a big if. Harper still has to deliver it almost two-hundred miles out. How’s all that going to happen in four hours?”
“Very precisely and quickly. No room for errors. Realize that if your suit fails you Briscoe, we’ll be vaporized as you drown. This is the only way. I’ll see if I can push the techs a little. Break the suit away early. That’s the best I can do.” He sipped coffee and added, “As for Harper, he can pick Eve off the deck, fly out just short of international waters, drop her, and be back in the safety zone in an hour. That gives you almost three hours for your part.”