Abyss Page 25

  “More like sardine cans, with a few sardines still stacked inside,” Jack said. “And that timing will put us right on sundown when we breach.” He sat forward. “So, the million-dollar question: what did you have in mind?”

  Mironov’s smile had returned. “When I designed the Nautilus I wanted her to be the most advanced submersible on the planet. I originally wanted it to be a single-person vessel – just for myself. But over time, I found that the more sophistication I required, the more skills needed to manage that sophistication. But …” He held a finger up. “I still managed to make it the most autonomous craft in existence.”

  Jack laughed. “It has auto-drive?”

  “In a nutshell, yes. We use the Nautilus in self-drive mode. Put it on auto, as you say, and then we send it off in the opposite direction. She won’t have supercavitation speed, but the Nautilus can still travel at forty-five knots, and with a good head start, might get to be many miles away before the shark runs it down, if at all.”

  Cate grinned at Jack. “And even if the shark overtakes it, it’ll spend more time destroying it – while it’s miles away.”

  “Might work,” Jack agreed. “It’ll give us a chance anyway. One more question: what about the Alvin?”

  “We’ll need to rise together, no question,” Mironov said. “As I mentioned, we know there is a thermal uplift, as well as an underwater stream, so if those currents separate us on the way to the surface, we’ll be miles apart. When we hit the surface, we need to be out in minutes, and not burning valuable hours on searches.”

  “Okay, so we’re a couple of corks floating toward the surface,” Cate said. “So how are we going to stop the pods separating? We’ve got no remote arms left and Alvin’s aren’t long enough or strong enough to hold us. How do we lash the submersibles together?”

  “Manually; the only way,” Mironov said, matter-of-factly. “The Nautilus still has one ADS suit remaining.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Cate scoffed. “No one is going out there again.”

  “Please suggest an alternative.” Mironov slowly swung toward her.

  Cate racked her brains trying to think of some alternative. But now that the remote arms were gone, and Alvin’s weren’t viable, there was nothing she could think of. She saw that Jack was frowning and staring down at the floor.

  “Jack, help me here – what else can we use to keep us together?”

  Jack slowly sat straighter. “Well, what about we maneuver to stay with them on the way up?”

  “Yeah, that could work.” Cate vigorously agreed.

  “I’ve thought of that,” Mironov said evenly. “That would require propulsion, and therefore noise. Cate, you know better than most that the Megalodon shark has the same sensory abilities that all the Carcharodon species do. Probably more. Switching on the power may just mean we’re calling it right back to us.”

  “Shit,” she whispered, knowing he was right. “Jack?”

  Jack stared off into the distance for a few moments. If a thought bubble appeared above his head, Cate bet she’d see cogs turning as he tried to solve their dilemma.

  After another moment, he sighed. “Sorry, I’ve got nothing.” He turned slowly to Mironov. “Valery, so far we’re two for two when it comes to going outside in a suit. Alvin lost Wade, and we’ve lost Francis. What you’re suggesting is probably a death sentence.”

  “It’s certainly a risk, but the payoff is life. The alternative is either certain death from asphyxiation or to hide on the bottom and pray for a miracle.” He waited for a few seconds. “I believe we have zero choice. Besides, I’m not going to ask anyone to go out there; I’ll do it myself.”

  “Hey, wait a minute,” Jack began.

  “No way, buster.” Cate lunged from her seat and gripped Jack’s shirtsleeve. “Don’t even think about it.” She turned to Valery. “There is no way—”

  Valery grinned and held up a hand. “My boat, my rules. Consider it a captain’s call.” His grin widened, and he turned to Brenner. “And you, sir, just be thankful that Sonya isn’t here, or she’d make you go.” He chuckled as the young sonar technician went a shade paler.

  “So what’s the plan – how can we help?” Jack asked.

  Mironov nodded and touched the comm. button. “Mr. Andrews, do we have spare high-grade cabling in the stores?”

  “Checking,” came Andrews’ response. “We’ve got fifty feet of quarter-inch high-tensile steel cable.

  Mironov grunted. “Good, then I have two jobs for you: I need you to rig a loop and eye-hook at each end, as we’re going to lash the Alvin to us. Then I want you to assist me into the ADS suit.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Simple, Mr. Andrews, we need to get to the surface, and not perish in the abyss.” He went to sign off, but turned back. “Oh, and following that, your work is done, and I want you in the bridge. We’ll be ejecting the pod.”

  Cate frowned. “How will the Nautilus know to take off, if we’re in the pod?”

  “Good question. I’ll need to tell it what to do. Once we separate the pod from the main Nautilus superstructure, then both will initiate independent control and command systems – but only then – I can’t give the body of the craft its final independent instructions until then. I need to do it manually … after the pod is released.”

  “You need to stay onboard the body of the Nautilus, while it’s traveling away from us, as we stay in the pod?” Cate’s mouth gaped.

  “Not quite.” He raised a finger. “But I will permit you to use some propulsion to collect me, if need be. I’m a risk-taker, but not suicidally insane, so I do not wish to be left behind, or intend to ride the Nautilus off into the undersea void by myself.”

  Jack sat back, and put one hand to his forehead. “I can’t think of any other option, other than this dumb idea.”

  “It is dumb. Dumb and brave.” Cate’s eyes glistened. “Thank you.”

  “You’d do the same. Both you and Jack,” Mironov said. “And by the way, I have no intention of dying.”

  “One thing,” Cate said. “It’ll takes us six hours to reach the surface, so what happens if the shark reaches the Nautilus and destroys it, and then heads straight back? Even if we’re quiet as church mice, it’ll still detect our trail, or more likely, even the beat of our hearts.”

  “I know.” Mironov’s jaw tightened. “So I’ve decided to rig a little surprise for if, when, the shark catches up to my craft. And it’s one that pains me deeply. I can rig the torpedoes to detonate on impact. If the shark attacks, he’s going to get a mouthful of hell.” He smiled. “It might not come back at all.”

  “Or come back toothless,” Brenner said hopefully.

  “And that’s everything we’ve got,” Mironov added.

  Jack nodded. “At a minimum it’ll disorientate the creature. Maybe long enough for us to make it topside. I like it.”

  “Technology over nature, remember, Jack?” Mironov got to his feet. “Cate, prepare Ms. Britt – silent running all the way. I don’t want her or her crewmate to even sneeze from now until we’re on the deck of the Anastasia.”

  “You got it.” Cate leaned toward her comm. system.

  “Jack, Mr. Brenner will assist you once we have disengagement of the pod from the Nautilus superstructure.” Mironov looked out into the reddish glow of the strange undersea world. “Once the submersibles are tied together, I’ll return.” He inhaled and let air out slowly. “I’ll return. Yes.”

  He continued to stare, and Cate got to her feet and stood close to him. He turned to her and held her eyes for a moment.

  “Valery?”

  He sighed, and then leaned closer to her, his voice only a whisper. “Tell Sonya …” He sighed. “Tell Sonya, she means more to me than all the wealth in the world. With her, I was always a rich man.”

  She nodded and held his forearm. “And when we’re all together, I’ll make sure you tell her again, personally.”

  He gave her a half smile and nodded onc
e. “Mr. Monroe, the bridge is yours.”

  CHAPTER 37

  The Anastasia, eighty miles north of the Middle America Trench

  Captain Levin frowned; all across the console the engine lights turned from a calm green to an urgent red. Then the comfortable throb of the huge engines suddenly died.

  “What the hell?” He turned to Andov, his second-in-command. “What just happened here?”

  “Finding out, sir.” Andov lifted the comm. set. “Engine room, report; what’s happening down there?”

  An exasperated voice was heard over the sound of yelling and what could have been steam blowing. “We’re full of water, seems the raw seawater intake valve is stuck open.”

  More yelling.

  “And that ain’t all – the damned pumps aren’t engaging.”

  Andov frowned. “That’s not possible.” He turned back to Levin. “Seawater intake, and pumps are all off-line.”

  Captain Levin felt a chill run up his spine, but nodded calmly. “Shut everything down, all stop on engines. It’s a new ship, but I want a full maintenance report, before—”

  Sonya entered through the doors like a hurricane, eyes blazing.

  “Oh shit,” the captain muttered, knowing how this was going to go. He turned to the tall Russian woman. “We’ve got a problem.”

  “I know that; we’re lying too low in the water.”

  “Yes, because the seawater intake we use for cooling the engine is not functioning. That, as well as the pumps.” Levin responded in as calm a voice as he could muster.

  Her brows snapped together. “As well as?”

  He nodded. “These things can happen on a new vessel. You don’t realize you have a problem in one area, until you discover a problem in another.” The captain smiled benignly. “We’re on it.”

  The engine room comm. buzzed, and Sonya pointed. “Put it on speaker.”

  Andov flicked it on. “What have you got?”

  “Weirdest thing, sir, the shut-off valve has been severed – we can’t turn off the water intake flow.”

  “Broken off?” Andov sounded incredulous.

  “No, I mean it was a fairly new piece; might break off if there was a fault in the steel or it was old and corroded, but I don’t think so. This looks cut through.”

  Andov turned to Captain Levin, who, in turn, slowly faced Sonya. He saw her eyes had turned near volcanic.

  “Impossible,” he said, but even he thought his words had little conviction.

  The Russian woman’s teeth were bared. “I need that repaired, now. And then I want whoever did this in front of me.”

  CHAPTER 38

  “Like I said, they told me you were insane.” Thomas Andrews

  Valery headed in to find Thomas Andrews already busying himself with preparations on the ADS suit. He turned and gave Mironov a fast and friendly salute.

  “I knew you were insane when I signed up with you.” He grinned.

  “Never a dull moment, as they say.” Mironov returned the salute. Together they ran a quick check on the ADS’ seals and electronics, and then used the hydraulic crane to move the cumbersome suit of armor toward the bay doors.

  “And then we need to do one more thing. Mr. Andrews, I want you to arm all the torpedoes and rig them for impact detonation, with high sensitivity. Let’s give our monster out there an upset stomach that it’ll never forget.”

  Andrews snorted. “Oh yeah, I can do that.” He paused. “All of them? Going to be a big shock wave. We don’t want to be close to it.”

  “We won’t be. And all of them bar one. I want you to remove the warhead in the last, and give it to me.” Mironov looked into the man’s eyes.

  “You’re taking it with you? It can’t be launched then.” Andrews frowned. “What’ll you use it for?”

  “I don’t know, but what I do know is that a diving knife is not going to be enough if I find myself in the water with a sixty-foot dinosaur shark. Might need a little extra deterrent.” Mironov half smiled.

  “You got it. Hopefully you won’t need it if the shark spends its time chasing down the Nautilus, and then attacks it. I hope.” Andrews nodded. “No, I know.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Mironov agreed. “Hopefully, we’ll be miles away when the shark decides to take a bite out of it. We need it dead, disorientated, or at least a long way away from us as we head to the surface.”

  “We can do that.” Andrews turned. “Just give me ten minutes.”

  Mironov turned back to the superstructure controls and entered his password. He began the preparations for unlocking all the seals, isolating control between the pod and main engines, and also shifting some of the software to the pod bridge. After a few minutes it was ready.

  Andrews returned and gave him a crooked smile. “Impact sensitive. Let’s not run into anything before we depart.”

  Mironov pointed to the console. “Once you press the master disengage, you’ll have three minutes to get to the bridge and seal the doors. Disengagement cannot be overridden. The rest of the crew are ready and waiting for you.”

  Andrews stared for a moment, but then nodded.

  Mironov went around to the back of the ADS suit, and opened the hatch. He grabbed the overhead railing, and lifted himself to slide in. “Okay, seal it up.”

  Andrews moved to the back and went to close the hatch, but then paused. “You didn’t tell them, did you?”

  Mironov just smiled.

  “You didn’t tell them that the ADS hatch is in the main superstructure of the Nautilus. There’s no way for you to get back into the pod once we’ve separated.”

  “No, but it doesn’t matter.” Mironov half turned in the suit. “Don’t worry, I’ll be heading to the surface. I’ll just be the guy out on the front porch seat instead of in the living room.” He turned away. “Seal her up.”

  Andrews closed the small hatch in the back, and checked the seals one last time. He went around the front and stared in through the heavy glass. “See you in the sunshine, Mr. Mironov.”

  “Without doubt.” Mironov’s mouth curved into a smile.

  Andrews then lifted the foot-long nose cone of the miniaturized Mark 48 torpedo. He had attached a small box with a single button under a blister cap. There were wires trailing from the open rear.

  “I’ve rigged this for you – just pop the cap and press hard. Then you’ll have thirty seconds before it detonates.” He bobbed his head. “Or if you hit something, then you’ll have zero seconds.” He looked into the glass and grinned. “Just remember; it’s still basically an armed torpedo, and you and the ADS suit are its delivery system.” He got some tape and lashed the torpedo to the front of the suit.

  Andrews checked his work and then shook his head. “Mad, certifiably mad.”

  Mironov moved the bulky arms to test he was able to reach the box; he could.

  “Well done, Mr. Andrews.”

  Andrews grabbed each side of the helmet. “Okay, quick refresher course: the batteries will give you about thirty minutes of propulsion. The oxygen runs on a separate power source, but once the main juice is used up, you’ll just be free floating. Oh, and if you have no power you’ll be freezing once we lift out of the thermal layer down here.”

  Andrews stared in hard. “And remember, once you reach about a few hundred feet from the surface, if you are in a powerless free-float, the weight of the suit will attain negative buoyancy, you’ll slow down, and eventually stop. This sucker is damned heavy.”

  He handed Mironov the heavy loop of cable, grunting as he struggled to lift it onto one of the suit’s powerful arms.

  Mironov held it with ease with the power-assisted suit. It’s like being encased in a super-strong robot, he thought. He felt the weight of it around him, and was comforted by its solidity and the sense of security he derived from it. At present they were just over 20,000 feet down, and if negative buoyancy was his only problem when he was just a hundred feet or so from the surface, then that was a problem he looked forward to havi
ng.

  “Ready,” he said.

  Andrews tapped on the glass again. “Like I said, they told me you were insane. Brave, but insane.”

  Mironov shook his head. “I have no intention of dying down here, Mr. Andrews. I just happen to be the right person for the job.”

  “I know.” Andrews moved the suit on the rails to the hatch, where he steered it into the pressure lock. He looked in one last time at Mironov and saluted, and then railed him in.

  Mironov flexed the robotic fingers of the suit. Everything was slow and cumbersome in free air, but once outside, he’d be more maneuverable.

  “Good luck!” Andrews yelled.

  “And to you too. See you topside.” I hope, Mironov silently wished.

  The hatch closed and water started to enter, and for just a few seconds, he felt warmth against his legs until the suit adjusted its internal temperature. He was conscious of what Andrews had told him – once the batteries were dead then the cooling and heating also died. The thermal vents down in the trench made it near tropical, but a few thousand feet up it was near zero. The bone-chilling cold of the depths would then intrude. He tried not to think about it as the water totally immersed the suit.

  He heard Andrews again, this time via the suit microphone. “Pressurizing, and opening doors. Once you’re out, I’ll disengage pod and transfer control to pod bridge. I’ll be watching. See you topside, boss.”

  The seals on his suit popped and squealed as the pressure of the depths came in at him. Then the doors whined open below, and a red glow permeated the chamber. Mironov took in a breath and then let himself drift down.

  The blood-red world totally absorbed him, and he felt a tingle in his stomach as he dropped further away from the Nautilus. There was a rush of excitement, wonder, and a ripple of fear.

  The crimson sea bottom just below him, the massive walls of the trench cliff, and all the amazing sea fans, sponges and grasses made it impossible not to believe he was an astronaut hovering over a strange new planet they had just discovered. Weird and wonderful life-forms scuttled, burrowed and flickered past him. Further out, the red hue became darker and more ominous. He stared out into the impenetrable abyss for several moments, before his imagination began playing tricks, and conjuring up images of giant octopuses, or the rushing monstrous open jaws of a creature from the ocean’s primordial past.