“Anything on the vids?” Laine asked, sliding into his chair.
“Not that I noticed. Let’s be patient and retrace our steps.”
Tension on the bridge ratcheted up as everyone crowded the monitors. Makkonen muttered that they were more or less back to where Aston had first shouted, but the results from all ports were uniformly empty. As the captain slowly and methodically worked a new grid, the excitement began to drain away.
“Are you sure you didn’t dream it?” Slater asked, unconsciously echoing Aston’s own concerns.
“May have done,” he admitted sheepishly. “But I’m pretty sure I didn’t.”
In spite of his words, Aston began to think the whole thing was a mistake. He berated himself for getting carried away and realized he really wanted to find something. If he stopped to think about it long enough, which he hadn’t allowed himself to do until now, he had to admit there was enough circumstantial evidence to make his staunch denial a little shaky. A part of him, the child who still wanted to believe in wondrous things, who desperately wished there was a Santa Claus, was quietly craving a result. If there was one thing better than Santa Claus, after all, it would be a living sea monster.
But the tension had lapsed, the screens remained empty and the tight gathering around Aston’s chair slowly drifted away.
“Sorry, folks,” Aston said. “I guess whatever it was, it’s moved on now.”
“If it was anything,” Slater said, from beside the camera.
Aston realized Carly had been filming the whole sorry debacle.
“It still might have been something,” Holloway said quietly. “Mister Aston says he saw something and we’ve no reason to doubt him.”
“Except for the fact he was laying back in his chair with his feet up,” Slater said.
Aston frowned at her. She was in a really pissy mood and it was starting to annoy him. It wasn’t his fault Dave was AWOL.
Before he could say anything, the sound of the printer shucking out sheets of paper distracted them.
“What’s this?” Holloway asked.
Laine gathered up the pages and spread them on the table. “The sonar keeps a history, which we can review. So I printed it out. Each sheet is one second apart.”
They gathered around the dozen or so pages with grainy, blurred images on each one. To the trained eye, their message was clear. A large object, moving fast.
Slater pointed past the camera as Carly kept all the papers in the shot. “This…” She slapped Aston’s shoulder. “You point it out!”
Aston didn’t immediately respond, his mouth dry as he stared. How was this possible? Was it actually happening? Slater cuffed his arm again.
He shook himself, cleared his throat, and pointed to each printout in turn. “This sonar clearly shows something moving obliquely under the boat as we passed over,” he said. “You can easily see the trajectory, which proves it’s not a stationery object. It’s moving fast and it’s massive.” He looked up, scanned the excited faces around him and felt his own smile spread. “There is definitely something in this lake.”
Chapter 13
Excitement on the bridge burst to new heights. Holloway was almost dancing on the spot. Carly moved back to try to get a wide shot of the general euphoria while Aston stayed at the table, leaning on his palms, staring at the readouts. The data was undeniable, but he still could not bring himself to believe it. He glanced up to see Laine looking at him with a subtle frown creasing his brow.
“You unconvinced too, huh?” Aston asked.
Laine shrugged. “I’m not sure what to think.”
“But you want it to be true, don’t you?”
Laine barked a strange laugh. “What I want is irrelevant. There is very little doubt in this town that the creature is real. I’m more concerned about the implications of finding it.”
“What do you mean? The impact on the town?” He supposed in influx of visitors would change Kaarme in perhaps a permanent way.
“That’s part of it.” Laine paused and looked past Aston’s shoulder. Carly had moved in closer to catch their conversation. Laine seemed to rethink what he might have been about to say and instead said, “I just hope it’s not bad for the creature itself, should we actually find anything.”
“But isn’t the fact undeniable now?” Slater asked. “There is something there.”
Aston watched Laine for a moment longer, unsure what was unsettling the man so much, before he turned to stare into the lens. “We scored a sonar hit of something. I can’t think of anything in a lake that would come even close to matching a profile like that.” He gestured at the papers scattered across the table.
Holloway leaned into shot. “Nothing contemporary, maybe!”
Aston sighed. “Correct. Nothing living today matches that data.”
“But something else, from pre-history?” Holloway pushed.
Aston turned to the man, his face set. “Yes, Holloway, a fucking dinosaur would fit the profile. So would a dragon. Maybe even an alien submarine!”
The billionaire laughed. “Why so testy, Mister Aston? Don’t you find the possibilities exciting?”
Aston paused. Why was he so angry? Because the data conflicted with his scientific education and background? Wasn’t science all about responding only to evidence, repeatable evidence, without emotion or personal belief intruding on the facts? Holloway and Laine might be high believers, but Aston himself wasn’t. Yet the results on the table made a mockery of doubt. Repeatable results. That was the heart of science. Empirical evidence, confirmed multiple times. What right did he have to dismiss a theory merely because it conflicted with his prejudices?
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t mean to sound terse. But let’s not get carried away. The simple fact is that we need more data. We also need to test and calibrate the equipment to make sure this hit isn’t an aberration of the hardware or a shadow of something else, something completely inert.”
“You’re joking!” Holloway said with a derisive laugh. “Test the hardware?”
“You brought a scientist along for a reason,” Aston told him. “That reason was scientific rigor. I intend to do my job properly.” He paused. “Think about the scrutiny our work will receive if we conclude there is, in fact, a previously-unknown creature residing here. I want to make sure it holds up.”
Holloway smiled and calmed himself. “Quite right, yes. You make a good point. But all things considered, and hardware glitches ruled out, the fact — the scientific fact! — is that we’ve just got a result here, yes? A result of some huge, unexplained creature in this lake?”
Aston let out a breath and nodded. “Yes, it would seem entirely possible. But let’s get that confirmed.” He turned to Laine. “Maybe you can work with Makkonen. Use the sonar to figure out the direction of travel of that thing and then build a new grid to explore.”
As the day wore on they got no further hits, but did manage to replot their search area for the next day. A new sense of focus, of purpose, gripped the crew. Where excitement for the mission had steadily waned with everyone except Holloway, now a new vitality spurred their activities.
By around four in the afternoon, Aston needed some fresh air and went out on deck. A squally rain was blowing in, bringing with it low, gray skies. The surface of the lake was battered and rippled by the drops, with tiny whiteheads whipped up by a stiffening breeze. Instead of hiding from the weather, Aston embraced the wet chill, turned his face into it and breathed deeply. There was a sense of age and dignity to this place, a different kind of timeworn permanence to the tropical and sub-tropical climes he was used to. He found it invigorating.