The Emperor's Revenge

FORTY-ONE

Max would never forget the sight of the Jim suit’s light being snuffed out by the collapsing ship. He had frantically radioed Juan, but his calls went unanswered. He and Linda watched helplessly as Juan valiantly tried to follow the swinging container to safety, but something must have been wrong with his thrusters and he sunk instead. Their last view of the Jim suit was when the Narwhal’s hull came crashing down on the seabed in a cloud of silt, its black keel pointing toward the surface.

They circled the Narwhal in Nomad while the crane hoisted the container on board the Oregon. News came down that the container had made it in one piece, and the column, though marred and cracked, was intact. Max told Eric to take charge of examining it, while he continued scouring the shipwreck for any signs that Juan might still be alive.

“Do you think there’s any chance the suit survived the impact?” Linda asked. “Maybe under the wreckage?”

“The Jim suit was already under a lot of pressure at this depth,” Max said. “With a thousand tons of steel on top of him…” He didn’t complete the sentence, letting the implications hang in the air.

Their best hope was that Juan had been pushed clear of the wreckage. Max goosed the thrusters, and Nomad edged along the side of the Narwhal with a soft whine of the impellers. All of their lights were focused on the seafloor.

With the emergency buoyancy system, the Jim suit should have floated to the surface by now.

Linda called up to Hali. “Oregon, has the Chairman been spotted?”

“Nothing on the radio beacon, Nomad. We’ve got people on all sides of the ship looking for his light. It’s pretty dark up here, but no one has seen it yet. We did haul in his umbilical. It was sheared off. That must mean he’s still down there. What’s his oxygen situation?”

“He’s got two redundant breathing systems, including a carbon dioxide scrubber that should give him fifty hours of air.”

“Roger that, Nomad. We’ll let you know if we find him.”

“Same here. Have Mark Murphy send down Little Geek to expand the search,” Linda said. Little Geek was a remotely operated underwater vehicle. Murph named it after a similar design in the movie The Abyss.

“He’s already got it in the moon pool. It should be on-site in ten minutes.”

“Glad to have the help. Keep in touch.”

Max did a quick survey of the ocean floor for any trace of Juan.

“If any of his lights were working, we would have seen them by now,” Linda said.

“And with the umbilical cut,” Max said, “we have no way to contact him. He could be unconscious.”

“That’s what worries me,” Linda said. “If he’s not capable of activating any of his emergency devices, either he was knocked out, which means his suit took extensive damage…”

“Or his suit is bleeding air, which caused him to black out,” Max finished. “The longer we can’t find him, the more likely that his life support gives out.”

Linda checked Nomad’s air and battery gauges. “Batteries look good. We’ve got four more hours before we have to surface to refill the O2 tanks.”

“Good. We’re not going up a second earlier.”

They spent tedious hours in the pitch-black water sweeping Nomad’s lights inch by inch over the ocean floor around the Narwhal, looking for any sign of the Jim suit, but the search was fruitless. Not even a glint of the pumpkin-orange suit to give them hope, although if they found any pieces of Jim, it would be an awful sign that Juan had probably not lived through the accident.

“We’re getting close to Bingo! on our air,” Linda said as they did one more pass on the opposite side of the Narwhal. Her voice was weary with regret. “We’re going to have to head for the surface in a few minutes.”

“Tell the moon pool to be ready. I want to come back down as soon as we’re able.” With a set jaw, he looked at Linda. “In the meantime, have Hali contact our salvage firm.”

While Linda radioed to the surface, Max kept his eyes glued outside, hoping that the salvage team would be unnecessary. The Oregon didn’t have the capability to raise the Narwhal, so they’d need to hire specialized contractors to raise the ship if this became a mission to recover Juan’s body.

As Linda made preparations to ascend, Max stopped Nomad one last time and looked at the wreck that might have taken his best friend. He was about to order Linda to empty the ballast tanks when he heard the distant clang of metal. At first, he thought it was a mechanical problem with the sub, so he removed his headset to listen. The sound had an odd cadence to it, arrhythmic and intermittent, and it definitely wasn’t coming from Nomad.

Linda, who was still on her headset, said, “The moon pool’s ready for us. They—”

Max put his finger up to quiet her, and she slid down her headset. The weak clanging continued.

Max edged Nomad closer to the sunken ship, then shut down the thrusters and every other nonessential system. The sub became deathly silent.

The clanging returned. Max was sure of it now. It was distant and tinny, but unmistakable.

“Do you hear that?” Max said with a growing smile.

Linda slowly nodded, her eyes widening in shock when she understood what she was listening to.

“That’s Morse code.”

Max pointed at the Narwhal. “Juan’s in there somewhere and he’s still alive.”