Ocean Black

CHAPTER SEVEN

Kim Otsuka was beginning to feel tired, unlike her fellow diners in the wardroom. The buzz of their overlapping conversations was loud, expectant, and cheerful. They were excited about their prospects.

Not that she wasn’t eager, but she was, and always had been, an early riser. Four or five in the morning was when she felt really fresh, ready to attack problems and concepts. As a result, she was also ready for bed earlier in the evening than most of her colleagues.

Her sleep cycles did not match Dokey’s because, so far as she could tell, he did not have a definable cycle. He could nap at the most inopportune moments. On the hours-long descents or ascents in a submersible, if someone mentioned the word sleep, he was gone. On the other hand, he might also stay awake for seventy hours, pursuing some elusive glitch in a computer program, machining a prototype part, or designing a dozen or so of his T-shirt messages.

Tonight, they had dined later than usual after a long workday. Brande had insisted upon double- and triple-checking every electronic, hydraulic, and mechanical system. The sea was insidious, and moisture creeped into supposedly sealed chambers, attacking sensitive circuits, seals, and bearings. An unstable, salt-encrusted circuit board might fail just at the time it was most needed. Consequently, practically everyone aboard had been assigned to opening the compartments of Depthfinder, Sarscan, and the two Sneaky Petes and searching for faults with the naked eye, with cotton swabs, or with the probes of digital and analog test instruments.

And after that, they had examined every corresponding system aboard Orion which had any major or minor connection with the diving program. Computers, fiber-optic cables, communications systems, and even the deck-mounted mechanical winches had been thoroughly probed.

Her job with MVU had provided her with skills she had never planned on having as well as a number she had never desired to have. Since everyone did everything, she had learned to be, not only a computer scientist, but also a mechanic, a plumber, and an electrician. She took her turns in the galley. She swabbed decks, and she polished brass fittings. Her resume could list experiences in geology, mapping, and oceanography. She could operate the remote vehicles, and she felt comfortable in the pilot’s seat of Depthfinder. It was wonderful!

It was also fatiguing. The preparation for a dive was more time-consuming than the dive itself, and not only in safety and equipment checks, for which Brande was notoriously overzealous. Every minute of the dive was planned beforehand. Larry Emry had been engaged with his computer terminal all day, drawing information from databases around the world, via the satellite communications link.

Emry now had listings, graphs, or charts of prevailing weather for the dive site, expected current strength and direction at several of the known depths, and the known temperature variants. His on-board database now contained whatever maps of the seabed terrain he had been able to locate from government and private sources.

Emry and Brande had spent the late afternoon preparing a schedule of diving times and locations, and she, along with everyone else, was waiting for it to be divulged.

Paco Suarez, who had drawn duty as chef for the evening, and who had presented them with surprisingly delicious beef chimichangas, smothered under lettuce, tomatoes, cheese, and spicy green chili, was moving among the tables, delivering sopapillas when Brande stood up at the table next to hers.

“Here we go,” Dokey said from his seat across the table from her.

“All right,” Brande said, “Larry and I thought we had this thing figured out, but just after lunch, I had a call from Hampstead. We’re now going to investigate an additional three sites, for a total of six. For mapping and reporting purposes, we have ingenuously decided to call them Site Number One through Site Number Six. Since we want to allow plenty of time on each site for exploration and mapping, we’re going to divide the program into two dives.”

“All right!” Mayberry yelped. “Do I get a shot?”

Brande grinned at him. “Yup, Bob, you do. On the first descent, I will be the dive commander, Kim will pilot, and you’ll do the monitoring.”

Otsuka could not resist a smile. She had been certain she would not have a chance to dive on this trip, especially since she had more or less forced Kaylene to add her name to the manifest.

“On the second descent,” Brande went on, “Rae will be in command, with Okey piloting, and Svetlana monitoring.”

Polodka, sitting next to her, poked her in the ribs with her elbow. She was smiling in anticipation. Dokey grinned at the Russian woman. Otsuka suspected, of course, that Brande had assigned himself and Dokey to the two different dives because of the long-time experience each of them had had. Not that Brande didn’t trust each of them, but he trusted Dokey more.

So did she.

Brande said, “Larry, fill us in on surface conditions, will you?”

Emry did not stand. He leaned back in his chair, wiped a dab of salsa from his moustache with his napkin, and said, “Fortunately, the winter storm pattern is not yet in place. Still, it’s not going to be balmy. We can expect seas running at six or seven feet, temperatures in the low forties, and wind out of the northwest fairly steady at ten knots. Dress warmly, kiddies.”

“And subsurface?” Brande asked.

“We’re not going into a fully explored region. Our charts will show the major seamounts and some damned rugged terrain, but there are still some canyons with depths that are only estimated. Dane and I expect that we’ll be operating in a range of seventeen to twenty thousand feet of depth.”

Otsuka knew the dangers of those depths. At only three hundred feet, about the maximum for a diver unprotected by a pressurized suit, the pressure was around 150 pounds per square inch. On an average man, it was similar to stacking 30,000 pounds on him. Twenty thousand feet down, an unprotected human body would exist for perhaps a millisecond.

Of some consolation was the fact that Depthfinder had successfully achieved over 23,000 feet during the Russian missile crisis, though not without some strain on her systems and on her crew.

Brande then briefed them on the timing, geographical coordinates, and expected depths. He outlined the responsibilities of those remaining aboard the ship. During the question-and-answer session after his briefing, they pinned down the equipment to be used as well as the types of video, film, and sonar recordings that would be made.

Brande finished by saying, “Now, we all know we have never, ever completed a project the way we planned it. Something always goes wrong, or the schedule goes haywire. The most important chore, then, is to be prepared for the unexpected. Let’s stay on our toes, and let’s all get plenty of sleep. And by the way, Paco, dinner was superb.”

Suarez beamed.

Otsuka finished the last of her milk, and then pushed her plate away.

Dokey asked, “Going up to the cabin, Kim?”

They had given up any pretense of keeping their relationship private a couple months before and were sharing a stateroom. When she had broached the subject of quarters with Kaylene, Kaylene had only said the arrangement was certainly more cost-effective.

“Not just yet. Half an hour.”

He smiled. Dokey was good at giving her the time she needed to be alone.

She left the wardroom and climbed the companionway to the bridge. Fred Boberg was tending the helm, which did not require much tending when they were on autopilot. He was also monitoring the radar repeater screen and the fathometer on the instrument panel.

She was relieved to see that Boberg had the watch. Kenji Nagasaka had yet to fully understand what was happening between her and Dokey, and he could be so dotish.

“Hi, Kim.”

“Hello, Fred.” She pointed to his windbreaker hanging on a hook on the back bulkhead. “May I borrow your coat?”

“Go right ahead.”

She pulled it on, then opened the door and went out on the port bridge extension.

Gripping the railing with both hands, she leaned into it and into the stiff breeze. The stars were countless, vivid points of light in which she could become lost. Blotting them out to the east, the moon at three-quarter strength had just cleared the horizon.

The dark sea appeared smooth, but she estimated that the waves were about four feet high between troughs. The twin hulls of the Orion cut through them with no noticeable effect on her stability. A fan-shaped spray of phosphorescence curved out from the bow wave of the port hull, below her. Watching the patterns formed could be mesmerizing, a hypnotic soothing of the soul and the mind.

In the back of her mind, however, she was still scanning through rows and rows of computer programming lines, an after-effect of the two hours she had spent debugging a program for Loudspeaker, the acoustic communications system. Leaving her work behind was not all that simple; sometimes it stayed with her for hours.

She tried to suppress the numbers and the programming phrases and just enjoy the beauty and the serenity of the night.

But her effort was interrupted when she noticed the lights low on the horizon ahead. She could see both red and green navigation lights, which meant the ship was coming directly at them, bow on.

Stepping back, she pulled the door to the bridge open.

“Fred, do you see that ship?”

“Yeah, Kim, I’ve been following it on radar for awhile. She’s about six miles off, now.”

“Shouldn’t we go around?”

“I pulled off a couple points, earlier, but she turned with us. We’ll just wait a little, and see what she decides to do. Nothing to worry about.”

Penny Glenn was aware of the bright blip on the matte green background of her radar screen. She had watched it alter course toward the north, and on impulse, she had shut down her autopilot and eased the helm to the left, keeping her bow directed toward it.

“You should give them a wider berth, Miss Penny,” Captain Billy Embers had said. He was sitting in the companion seat on the other side of the flying bridge, sipping from a steaming mug of coffee and taking bites out of a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich. She was certain Enders hated having her aboard, usurping up his control of her boat. He didn’t watch her like a hawk, but perhaps like an owl.

“You don’t have any adventure in your soul, Captain Billy. Here we are, a thousand miles from anywhere, in the middle of a big, beautiful ocean, and we see fellow humans. Don’t you want to know who they are?”

“I’d guess a freighter,” Enders said.

“Ah, Billy, guesses are no fun. Knowing for certain is what counts.”

That was one of the ways in which she assessed her job and her job performance.

The two vessels closed rapidly, and she estimated that the unknown ship was making over thirty knots, close to what her Mercedes diesels were putting out. It wasn’t a freighter or a tanker. Enders, who had been watching the radar screen along with her, had known that. He was probably leery of pirates or smugglers, both of which were still strong possibilities in the twentieth century.

Once again, the unknown ship made a course correction, aiming to pass her to the north. Her running lights were clearer now, perhaps a half-mile away. Glenn watched her approach and did not turn again. There was no sense in totally alarming the foreign captain. Or Billy Enders, for that matter.

The moon was higher in the sky, and visibility had improved a trifle, but not sufficiently to make an identification. In the rack at her right were binoculars and a military surplus Starscope. She lifted the Starscope out of the holder, held it to her eye, and leaned over the helm to train it on the other boat.

The nightscope gathered ambient light and used it to enhance images. With the clear sky and the available starlight, the image that suddenly appeared for her was clearly that of a fair-sized ship, with a greenish-tinged hull, the green tint the product of the Starscope.

No. Closer inspection revealed that there were two hulls. A catamaran. While the nightscope didn’t reveal true colors, she noted that a dim band of color ran diagonally up the superstructure.

Glenn smiled for herself. She knew the ship. That is, she had seen pictures of it.

She waited until it had passed abeam, half-a-mile off her port side, then spun the helm to the left, to pass behind it, cutting her wake.

“Miss Penny?” Billy Enders said, some alarm edging his voice.

“Don’t you want to meet our neighbors, Captain Billy?”

Brande was back in the first booth with Emry, scanning the map that Emry had composed from all of his sources and loaded into the computer. There had been some earlier concern on Brande’s part that Emry’s requests for information from the wide range of universities and institutes might make some people curious about their intentions when he didn’t want curious bystanders. Emry, however, had worded his requests to include a much larger region than they actually needed. No one would pinpoint their destination.

After compiling one master map with the details from previous explorations of the area, Emry had scanned it electronically and loaded it into the ship’s computers, making a backup copy via satellite link on the mainframe computer at MVU headquarters in San Diego. The geographical coordinates Hampstead had obtained from the seismic people were indicated with red crosses and he had labeled them for the site numbers the two of them had assigned.

To the southeast was their own blip — a ship-shaped yellow symbol, imposed by a data link between Emry’s system and the ship’s navigation computers. Using the provided information, the computer provided calculated information in a small box in the upper right corner of the screen:

“With the progress we’re making, let’s call it 0900 hours in the morning for the first dive, Dane. We’re going to be about an hour ahead of projections, but let’s use the hour for preparation.”

“That’s good for me, Larry.”

The intercom buzzed, and Brande lifted the receiver from its cradle on the bulkhead. “Brande.”

“It’s Connie, Dane. Fred called me to the bridge because we have a visitor.”

“They didn’t phone first? How rude,” Brande said.

“She just now called on the radio, and she wants to meet you. Your fame is international.”

Alvarez-Sorenson’s tone suggested that this was not a good idea.

“Who is she?”

“Penelope Glenn, from New Zealand. That’s all she said. Do you know her?”

“Never heard of… wait a minute.” Brande flushed his memory, caught a glimmer of recognition, then framed the name, though he could not put a face with it.

“I’ve seen the name on some oceanographic papers delivered to conferences, Connie. I think her background is geology. Hold on, and I’ll come up.”

By the time he reached the bridge, Brande had also remembered that Penelope Glenn worked for AquaGeo, and was in fact a high-ranking executive with Deride’s company. He was less certain he wanted to make her acquaintance.

He slipped into the crowded radio shack and took the microphone from Bucky Sanders. “What’s the name, Bucky?”

“Phantom Lode, Chief.”

He depressed the mike button, “Phantom Lode, this is the master of Orion.”

“Dr. Brande, Penny Glenn. I don’t know if you know who I am?”

“I believe so, Dr. Glenn. With AquaGeo.”

“I’m flattered that you make the connection. Certainly, I know who you are, and when I recognized the Orion, I thought it might be an opportune time to meet you. If you can spare twenty minutes from your voyage, of course.”

Brande turned to Connie Alvarez-Sorenson, standing in the hatchway to the radio shack. Behind her, others curious about the mid-ocean meeting were gathering.

“Let’s bring her to dead slow, Connie.”

“Right away, Dane.”

He went back to the radio. “Twenty minutes, we’ve got.”

“I’ll invite you aboard the Lode, but naturally I’m curious about the Orion.”

“By all means, come aboard, Dr. Glenn.”

Brande handed the microphone back to Sanders just as Thomas arrived.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“A meeting of professionals,” he told her, relating what he knew of Glenn’s background.

“AquaGeo, huh?”

“Doesn’t make her any less qualified, Rae. We owe the courtesy.”

When the Orion was almost stopped, barely making headway, the smaller cruiser came alongside, and Del Rogers put the landing stage over the side with the starboard crane.

Glenn made the jump from the stern deck of her boat to the stage with practiced agility, and then climbed the steps to deck level. Brande and a half-a-dozen others, all dressed in MVU’s customary jumpsuits and windbreakers, were waiting for her on the side deck.

Despite the bulky pale green jacket she was wearing, Brande could see that she was a knockout. Lots of strawberry blonde hair framed an angelic face that Brande felt for some reason could be deceiving. As she reached the deck, her eyes bored into his own, but gently, searching for his soul.

“Before we get hung up on academia,” she said, “I go by Penny.”

“And I’m Dane.” Brande introduced Thomas, Dokey, Otsuka, Polodka, and Emry.

The group chatted with her for a few minutes on the side deck, and then began to disperse.

“Would you like the quick tour?” Thomas asked.

“I’d love it!”

Brande waved toward the stern, then stepped back to let Glenn pass in front of him. Instead, she linked her arm over his forearm, quite naturally.

Thomas led the way to the stern, and they followed as a couple. Brande was half-surprised and half-amused. He suspected that Thomas was neither.

When they reached the bow of Sarscan, Brande disengaged himself and found the switch for the deck lights. Glenn walked around the sonar vehicle, and then exclaiming and asking questions, skirted DepthFinder.

Under the floodlights, Brande could see that Thomas’s lips were set in a very stern line. When she was piqued, she reminded him of her admiral father.

They toured the laboratory next, which Glenn seemed to find impressive. Thomas explained some of the computer systems to her as well as the chemical and geologic testing that was possible with the equipment massed along the port side of the lab. Brande thought that Thomas’s voice carried the slightly pedantic tone she assumed when she was addressing a seminar of graduate students.

If Glenn noticed that she was being a bit patronized, she didn’t indicate as much.

The bridge and communications spaces were next, and Brande explained some of their navigational and communications capabilities. Glenn appeared to appreciate the toys that Brande had installed over the years.

He told her, “We don’t keep liquor aboard, but I could offer you a cup of passable coffee.”

“That would be wonderful,” Glenn said.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Thomas said, “I’ll take care of some chores.”

“Certainly, Kaylene. I appreciate your time, and I’ve enjoyed meeting you.”

Thomas spun around and left the bridge, headed for their stateroom.

Brande took his guest down to the wardroom, where a few people were still lazing around. A videotape of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid was playing on the big monitor in one corner.

Brande filled mugs in the galley, and they sat in the booth behind Emry’s substitute office. Glenn slipped her jacket off, revealing some nice curves under a burgundy sweater.

“I’m very impressed with your operation, Dane.”

Brande was kind of impressed with Penny Glenn, also. He couldn’t get over how intently her eyes stayed with his own when she was listening to him.

“You’ve been with AquaGeo for quite a while?”

“My first, and my only, job,” she said. “Sometimes, though, I think I’d like quit it and go into purely scientific exploration. I envy you that.”

“It has its moments,” Brande said.

“Where are you off to, now?”

“A government project,” he said vaguely, without knowing why. “We’re under contract.”

She nodded and didn’t pursue it. “I’m always hunting for minerals, of course. But I think that Marine Visions has a mining operation?”

“We do, though it’s not an extensive or very profitable venture. It’s more of a field laboratory on the seabed, where we’re developing new machines and new techniques. The objective is to develop processes and equipment that extract ore without causing undue damage to the undersea environment.”

“Hmmm. I’d be interested in that.”

“The next time you’re in the States, and I’m there, give me a call. I’ll take you out.”

“I hope that’s a promise.”

“It is,” he said.

“In fact, I’m on my way to San Francisco now.”

“You’ve crossed the Pacific in Phantom Lode?”

“Oh, my, no. She was in Hawaii.”

“And you’re going to San Francisco for the fun of it?”

“Exactly!” she laughed. “I take my vacations seriously.”

Brande sipped from his mug, and he couldn’t help taking a surreptitious glance at his watch.

Glenn caught him. “Ah. I’m overstaying my welcome.”

“Of course not.”

“I know you’re on government time.” She stood up, pulling her coat on.

Brande thought that the gentlemanly thing to do would be to help her with the coat, but he was too slow getting out of the booth.

Once again, she gripped his arm as he escorted her back to the side deck and the landing stage. Del Rogers was waiting, standing near his crane.

At the head of the gangway, Glenn said, “I apologize profusely for delaying you, but I’m quite happy to have finally met you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine.”

“And I will call you in San Diego someday.”

“Please do.”

She waved at her boat, which was standing off the starboard side of Orion, and the cruiser began to move in as she went down the steps to the landing stage. She was very agile, Brande thought.

Her transfer to the Phantom Lode in the surging seas was acrobatic and successful. She waved again as she disappeared into the cabin.

Brande waved back.

And noticed that the yacht was beautifully built, a Cheoy Lee. For some reason, he suspected that Penny Glenn had had a hand in the design.

When he got back to his stateroom, he found it dark and found that Thomas was already asleep.

He was pretty sure she was asleep.