“I doubt it,” Ted said.
Barnes said, “You guys are supposed to be the experts. We know this thing can open. It’s been open already. How do we get it open again?”
“We’re trying, Hal.”
“It doesn’t look like you’re doing anything.”
From time to time, they glanced at Harry, but Harry just stood there, looking at the sphere, his hand on his chin, tapping his lower lip thoughtfully with his finger.
“Harry?”
Harry said nothing.
Ted went up and slapped the sphere with the flat of his hand. It made a dull sound, but nothing happened. Ted pounded the sphere with his fist; then he winced and rubbed his hand.
“I don’t think we can force our way in. I think it has to let you in,” Norman said. Nobody said anything after that. “My hand-picked, crack team,” Barnes said, needling them. “And all they can do is stand around and stare at it.”
“What do you want us to do, Hal? Nuke it?”
“If you don’t get it open, there are people who will try that, eventually.” He glanced at his watch. “Meanwhile, you got any other bright ideas?”
Nobody did.
“Okay,” Barnes said. “Our time is up. Let’s go back to the habitat and get ready to be ferried to the surface.”
DEPARTURE
Norman pulled the small navy-issue bag from beneath his bunk in C Cylinder. He got his shaving kit from the bathroom, found his notebook and his extra pair of socks, and zipped the bag shut.
“I’m ready.”
“Me, too,” Ted said. Ted was unhappy; he didn’t want to leave. “I guess we can’t delay it any longer. The weather’s getting worse. They’ve got all the divers out from DH-7, and now there’s only us.”
Norman smiled at the prospect of being on the surface again. I never thought I’d look forward to seeing Navy battleship gray on a ship, but I do.
“Where’re the others?” Norman said.
“Beth’s already packed. I think she’s with Barnes in communication. Harry, too, I guess.” Ted plucked at his jumpsuit. “I’ll tell you one thing, I’ll be glad to see the last of this suit.
They left the sleeping quarters, heading down to communications. On the way, they squeezed past Teeny Fletcher, who was going toward B Cylinder.
“Ready to leave?” Norman said.
“Yes, sir, all squared away,” Fletcher said, but her features were tense, and she seemed rushed, under pressure.
“Aren’t you going the wrong way?” Norman asked.
“Just checking the diesel backups.”
Backups? Norman thought. Why check the backups now that they were leaving?
“She probably left something on that she shouldn’t have,” Ted said, shaking his head.
In the communications console, the mood was grim. Barnes was on the phone with the surface vessels. “Say that again,” he said. “I want to hear who’s authorized that.” He was frowning, angry.
They looked at Tina. “How’s the weather on the surface?”
“Deteriorating fast, apparently.”
Barnes spun: “Will you idiots keep it down?”
Norman dropped his day bag on the floor. Beth was sitting near the portholes, tired, rubbing her eyes. Tina was turning off the monitors, one after another, when she suddenly stopped.
“Look.”
On one monitor, they saw the polished sphere. Harry was standing next to it.
“What’s he doing there?”
“Didn’t he come back with us?”
“I thought he did.”
“I didn’t notice; I assumed he did.”
“God damn it, I thought I told you people-” Barnes began, and then stopped. He stared at the monitor.
On the screen, Harry turned toward the video camera and made a short bow.
“Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please. I think you will find this of interest.”
Harry turned to face the sphere. He stood with his arms at his sides, relaxed. He did not move or speak. He closed his eyes. He took a deep breath.
The door to the sphere opened.
“Not bad, huh?” Harry said, with a sudden grin.
Then Harry stepped inside the sphere. The door closed behind him.
They all began talking at once. Barnes was shouting over everyone else, shouting for quiet, but no one paid any attention until the lights in the habitat went out. They were plunged into darkness.
Ted said, “What’s happened?”
The only light came through the portholes, faintly, from the grid lights. A moment later, the grid went out, too.
“No power…”
“I tried to tell you,” Barnes said.
There was a whirring sound, and the lights flickered, then came back on. “We have internal power; we’re running on our diesels now.”
“Why?”
“Look,” Ted said, pointing out the porthole.
Outside they saw what looked like a wriggling silver snake. Then Norman realized it was the cable that linked them to the surface, sliding back and forth across the porthole as it coiled in great loops on the bottom.
“They’ve cut us free!”
“That’s right,” Barnes said. “They’ve got full gale-force conditions topside. They can no longer maintain cables for power and communications. They can no longer use the submarines. They’ve taken all the divers up, but the subs can’t come back for us. At least not for a few days, until the seas calm down.”
“Then we’re stuck down here?”
“That’s correct.”
“For how long?”
“Several days,” Barnes said.
“For how long?”
“Maybe as long as a week.”
“Jesus Christ,” Beth said.
Ted tossed his bag onto the couch. “What a fantastic piece of luck,” he said.
Beth spun. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Let’s all stay calm,” Barnes said. “Everything’s under control. This is just a temporary delay. There’s no reason to get upset.”
But Norman didn’t feel upset. He felt suddenly exhausted. Beth was sulking, angry, feeling deceived; Ted was excited, already planning another excursion to the spacecraft, arranging equipment with Edmunds.
But Norman felt only tired. His eyes were heavy; he thought he might go to sleep standing there in front of the monitors. He excused himself hurriedly, went back to his bunk, lay down. He didn’t care that the sheets were clammy; he didn’t care that the pillow was cold; he didn’t care that diesels were droning and vibrating in the next cylinder. He thought: This is a very strong avoidance reaction. And then he was asleep.
BEYOND PLUTO
Norman rolled out of bed and looked for his watch, but he’d gotten into the habit of not wearing one down here. He had no idea what time it was, how long he had been asleep. He looked out the porthole, saw nothing but black water. The grid lights were still off. He lay back in his bunk and looked at the gray pipes directly over his head; they seemed closer than before, as if they had moved toward him while he slept. Everything seemed cramped, tighter, more claustrophobic.
Several more days of this, he thought. God.
He hoped the Navy would think to notify his family. After so many days, Ellen would start to worry. He imagined her first calling the FAA, then calling the Navy, trying to find out what had happened. Of course, no one would know anything, because the project was classified; Ellen would be frantic.
Then he stopped thinking about Ellen. It was easier, he thought, to worry about your loved ones than to worry about yourself. But there wasn’t any point. Ellen would be okay. And so would he. It was just a matter of waiting. Staying calm, and waiting out the storm.
He got into the shower, wondering if they’d still have hot water while the habitat was on emergency power. They did, and he felt less stiff after his shower. It was odd, he thought, to be a thousand feet underwater and to relish the soothing effects of a hot shower.
He dressed and headed for the C Cylinder. He heard Tina’s voice say, “-think they’ll ever get the sphere open?”
Beth: “Maybe. I don’t know.”
“It scares me.”
“I don’t think there’s a reason to be scared.”