Sea Station Umbra

Chapter 13. Monopole

On our return to the station, we headed straight to the mess for coffee. Briscoe insisted and the Lieutenant and I agreed. We had a presentation to prepare before Bowman’s meeting and we knew a group consensus of our mission’s discoveries was in order. Otherwise, he might suspect some form of deep-sea mass hysteria.

Williams took a pen and small notepad from her pocket and began to write.

“Number one,” she said, “The SeaPod was gone. Apparently cut from the tractor wheel according to Briscoe.”

He nodded agreement.

“Number two: Briscoe found a piece of cutting rod. Still have that Briscoe?”

He pulled it from his shirt pocket and dropped it on the table.

“Yep, brought it from my dive pouch. That’s it.”

I picked it up and examined it.

“Looks like a torch rod to me.”

“Number three,” she continued, “and this is a whopper: Briscoe discovered a glowing point in the silt near Pod Bay 2. When I tried to approach it, my SeaPod navigation failed. I had to reboot the system as Marker did yesterday only this time the SeaPod, a different one, I should add, was not on AutoDock. Comments?”

I had to speak no matter how off-the-wall it sounded.

“When I saw the Chief kicking the silt from its surface, it seemed to come alive glowing brighter with more colors as I watched. Maybe it’s just me but I see a strange connection here. On our first approach to the station when you were driving. Lieutenant, the same system blackout occurred as we passed over the object. Then Edwards took the same SeaPod out and crashed it coming out of Pod Bay 2. He had to pass over the object on his way to the front of the station to crash under Pod Bay 1. Finally, the Chief’s suit power weakened to near failure mode as he stood over the object waiting for me to retrieve the torch pack. And when I returned and stood there with him and dropped the pack, my power also began to fade. It’s like the object is stealing power.”

“Or control,” Briscoe said. “It’s a monopole, a center of attraction. I’ve read about them somewhere. But I think they’re only theoretical.”

He cast his eyes down then stared at me.

“I hate to say this, Marker, but I’m in full agreement with you. That thing is sucking the life out of everything around it. But why hasn’t it done that before? Did you notice anything unusual out there before we arrived, Lieutenant?”

She closed her eyes for a moment.

“Um, no. Not that I can remember. Except Dan Li’s empty Exosuit was found not far from that location.”

“So maybe it was waiting to be triggered my some motion and Briscoe’s boot aroused it.”

“That’s absurd, Marker. You’ve been watching too many sci-fi movies.”

Williams laughed.

“Yeah, Marker. I saw that one too and that notion’s just out of the question.”

As we finished our coffee, we all agreed that we were up against something beyond our comprehension especially considering the secrecy of the station’s mission. When we finally realized that the object could possibly be tied to another undisclosed compartment of Umbra’s security web we decided to present our findings to Bowman and let him try to sort it all out. We certainly couldn’t.

Lieutenant Williams stood and walked to an Ivy console on a nearby wall.

“Ivy, Sue Williams here.”

“Good afternoon, Susan Williams. What can I do for you today?”

“Please notify Dr. Bowman that we have returned and are ready to meet with him at his convenience.”

“Message received and transferred. Anything else?”

“No. Thank you, Ivy.”

“You’re quite welcome, Susan Williams. I’ll notify you when Dr. Bowman responds.”

She returned to our table sighed and sat biting at a fingernail.

“So,” Briscoe said yawning, “I wonder when we can get some sleep. We arrived here early this morning without sleep and we’re still going strong fourteen hours later. I haven’t slept since seven a.m. yesterday and it’s now three p.m. the next day. That’s thirty-two hours I’ve been awake. I’m beginning to feel like I’m on a hospital staff.”

The Lieutenant and I laughed at his humor but I knew how he felt. Everything was beginning to blur in my mind. My concentration was muddled and my energy gone. I stood, grabbed the Chief’s mug along with mine, walked to the coffee urn, and refilled them.

“Thanks, Marker. This may get me through the next shift. They’ll be calling me into the ER at any time now.”

Almost on cue, Ivy’s voice burst forth from the overhead speakers resonating through the mess hall.

“Susan Williams, Dr. Bowman requests your presence in Pod Bay 2.”

“That also means you two,” she said to us. Downing her coffee she rose from the table and headed toward the core hatch. Then turning back she asked, “Coming, fellows?”

“Right behind you,” answered the Chief gathering the torch tip into his pocket.

In her footsteps, we scurried into Quad 2 and down the hatch ladder into Pod Bay 2.

Alone in the empty bay Bowman greeted us. He was not pleased: he glared up from pacing over the empty SeaPod pad and stopped.

“Where the hell is the SeaPod? You were supposed to bring it back.”

“It was gone, Dr. Bowman, apparently cut loose,” Williams said.

His face flushed with anger for a moment then after a deep breath he calmly replied, “May I ask who cut it loose, Lieutenant? Was it you? Briscoe? Cross? You are the only ones who have been out there since the accident. Please explain that.”

“I can’t sir but Briscoe did find a spent cutting torch tip under where it had once rested. We had to assume it was forcefully freed by something or someone. Even the tractor wheel spoke was mangled where it had become entangled in the SeaPod.”

“So I assume you talked this over amongst yourselves,” he said. “Where do you suggest we go from here? Briscoe, Cross, you’re supposed to be on top of this. Did you find any other evidence of tampering out there?”

The Chief flashed a glance my way before speaking.

“Yes and no, Dr. Bowman. At the base of the crawler under Pod Bay 2, I happened upon something buried beneath the ocean floor. We had doused our lights—”

“Wait a minute Briscoe. You found something buried? Was it one of our probes?”

“I don’t think so, sir, unless your probes can glow and suck power from nearby objects. Marker and I think it may even be the culprit in all these crashes.”

“That’s absurd,” he shouted. “Nothing can do that. Anything else unusual about it?”

Remembering that moment standing over it, I related my experience.

“I know this may sound ridiculous too but I when I was checking my suit’s power in the HUD, I noticed the clock’s time read 1254 hours. By the time I had dropped the torch pack and finally got the Chief moving, which must have taken at least five minutes, I checked my power level again and the clock showed 1250 hours. Either my clock malfunctioned or the object the Chief called a monopole reversed the passage of time.”

“Rubbish!” he said then paused in deep thought. He shook his head as if to rid his mind of a notion.

“Williams… opinion?”

Preoccupied she jerked at his question.

“I’m sorry sir, what did you ask?”

“The object Briscoe found. Do you believe it’s supranormal as they say?”

“Well I can’t really say sir but I do know when I drifted over that area in two different SeaPods their navigation systems failed. And they’ve never acted up before this.”

“Why didn’t you dig it up and bring it back? I need to see this thing.”

In our defense, I ventured an answer.

“Our suit’s power supplies were failing as was the SeaPod’s. Time was going backwards. Our only option for survival was to mark its location and retreat. Otherwise, you might be looking at even more accidents. I’m the one who suggested we return immediately as everything began to go south.”

“Well, I’m sending divers out later today to pull in the isotope sensors and cable sheath. I’ll just have them dig it up while they’re out. How close is this—”

“Sir,” the Lieutenant interrupted, “I’ve tried to remain neutral in my opinion of their discovery, but I have to say that damn thing put the fear of God in me. It’s a feeling I’ve never had before in my years of diving. Almost brings the eerie Davy Jones Locker legend to life. I do not recommend sending more divers out after that. It could kill them.”

“Hmm. That’s rather daunting. What do you recommend, Lieutenant? What are our options?”

“Use our ROV. It’s been gathering dust since we’ve been down here.”

Finally, he showed a hint of a smile.

“Excellent suggestion, Williams. I’ve been needing a reason to fire up the robot and that seems a perfect use for it.”

Ten minutes later, we arrived at the ROV’s control station: a bank of video screens around a console nestled behind the computer racks in Quad 1. It had numerous joysticks and levers resembling the control panel of a mini-sub and on the wall over the workstation a sign: SEA ROVER. Bowman offered us a seat around him and began to operate the controls.

Gradually a screen flickered and cleared into focus showing the remotely operated vehicle resting in the corner of Pod Bay 1. As the image sharpened, I saw the ROV sitting on a platform near the Exosuits.

I remembered seeing it there during our recent dive and wondered if they had ever used it. It was not a unique design as I expected but a standard ROV I had piloted before in the SeaCrawler squadron at Point Mugu. I knew it well: a sturdy metal cage weighing in at 500 pounds, four feet wide by eight feet long with two massive manipulator arms tucked into its bow. From the aft a length of optical fiber and copper cable, its umbilical, wound around a large spool ready for deployment.

Another screen flashed to life as his hands switched more controls. It showed the filled Exosuit racks taken from a lower vantage point I assumed to be the ROV’s forward camera. In the frame surrounding the image were numerous data windows showing depth, pressure, time of dive, a manipulator-arm-image inset frame and water temperature.

“Here we go,” he said. Then picking up a nearby hand microphone he alerted, “Flooding Pod Bay 1 in ten seconds. Stand and be seen if you’re in there.”

Twelve seconds passed according to my watch and his hand hit a switch labeled MAGNETIC LOCKS ON. Then he flipped a safety cover and tripped the FLOOD BAY switch.

Instantly, flooding overhead ribbons of seawater gushed into the bay raising the level over the racked Exosuits’ boots. Then as the water rose slowly passing over the ROV’s camera, I held my breath again. I hated that instinct but blamed it on my childhood. My mind drifted back…

I had thought everyone was born with a deep fear of water but my mom once told me it was from an accident, a horrible accident, I witnessed at the beach. She always cried when she talked about it. I was just turning four when it happened she told me. It was a sunny day with dark storm clouds gathering on the westward horizon. Surfers yelling with joy off in the distance were riding monster waves. She said that dad had gone to the concession stand to get snow cones as my three-year old brother Mikey splashed through the waves screaming with joy as he ran. I wasn’t far behind but stayed closer to land. As she watched us, a big cresting wave suddenly swept him screeching and scrambling feet first into deep dark water. The azure water under him had gone brown with sand. A vicious suction like that from an unplugged drain dragged him out with such tremendous force he couldn’t catch a breath; he just disappeared. Then she said that she saw me turn and run into the roiling water after him. The same wave took me as I dug in his wake trying to save him. In thinking back, I do seem to recall my frenzied digging but nothing more.

The next day, a white sterile room invaded my blurry vision. Hissing machines and clicking pumps surrounded me all synchronized with a green blinking light on the wall. My first recollection after a lengthy coughing spell was the smell of a bit of fresh air seeping through my facemask. A doctor staring into my eyes through a small, lighted funnel he called an ophthalmoscope, welcomed me to Mission General Hospital then said without emotion that I had died but through the miracle of science, he brought me back.

Then he told me the most horrible news my young ears had ever heard. My little brother Michael could not be saved. I must have cried for hours knowing my best friend was gone forever. All to a ferocious riptide that had somehow swallowed us both then kept my brother and spit me out. My mom tried to calm me by saying that God needed only one little angel that day; the doctor said that riptides or undertows in that area were notoriously unpredictable. I didn’t understand either of their explanations but I knew that I would never go near the ocean again. It was far too dangerous.

“Bay’s full,” Bowman yelled interrupting my unpleasant reverie. “Pod Bay door’s opening.”

Seconds later the ROV headed out into the darkness shining its floods forward, illuminating fogs of moving organisms.

“Go toward starboard,” Williams said.

Nudging the joystick to the right Bowman directed the ROV toward Pod Bay 2. Even though it was still thirty feet from the bay’s entrance its video return began to distort with interfering lines running through and across the image.

“There it is!” barked Williams pointing at a spot on the screen. “That’s the cutting torch pack I dropped down. Kill the floods.”

As Bowman switched off the forward floods, the screen went black for a moment. Then the glow appeared, blossoming amid severe cross-hatching of the incoming image.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said moving his eyes closer to the image.

“See it, Dr. Bowman?” she asked.

“Hell yes… and I see the time clock up in the corner ticking backward too.”

He looked to his side past Williams.

“Holy shit Briscoe! What in God’s name have you found?”

As we watched, the glow brightened to the point that it saturated the camera leaving a flared video screen: white with no details of anything. Only the status panels surrounding the image showed through.

“Uh Dave?” I asked scanning the panels, “Is the water temperature supposed to be minus forty-eight degrees Fahrenheit down there? That’s way below freezing. An impossible situation for liquid water. There should be ice forming.”

He jerked his attention to the TEMP display, reading -48°F then put his hand to his forehead. Seconds passed before he looked back at the screen.

“There is no earthly reason why that temp should be below freezing. At that temperature it’s not even liquid, it’s in another phase. However considering our display’s malfunction it may be a fault in the temperature sensor.”

During our discussion, the flared-out image screen had changed to what looked like a troubleshooting window. Along the top margin in the panel’s frame was SOURCE CODE.

At first a few characters appeared 95HH32G9FZWXM. Then lines below that began to fill with numbers and letters at an ever increasing pace scrolling down the screen faster than I could read. It made no difference though; they were still gibberish.

“Good Lord, now what is that?” Bowman asked pushing back from the monitor.

“Looks like code,” Williams said.

“But how is it getting into the ROV system? Suggestions?”

“I hate to venture a guess,” I said, “but with its extreme brilliance the light from the monopole may be seeping into the ROV’s fiber optic control cable. Your controller sees the returning light as feedback. But who am I to know; I’m not a computer geek.”

“You may just be geek enough, Matt. That actually sounds like a reasonable cause for this data string. But, did you see it flashing when you were near it? Only that would simulate data.”

“Yes. It was flickering colors so rapidly it appeared to be white until I blinked and caught a few dominant hues.”

He stared at the screen still scrolling.

“Hmm. Wonder if it’s trying to tell us something?”

“It’s not an undersea cable, Dr. Bowman,” Williams scoffed, “Just a flickering light on the ocean floor. Probably some bioluminescent creature gone astray.”

He pointed to the ROV’s clock panel still ticking backward.

“Then how do explain that, Lieutenant? A time-warping anglerfish?”

Suddenly, from overhead speakers a klaxon horn blared, vibrating the room. I had to cover my ears at the intensity of the alarm. As Bowman jumped to his feet, Ivy’s urgent voice interrupted the obnoxious buzzing sound.

“Station Alert! Station Alert! Power in the station is failing. Power in the station is failing. All support-crew nukes report below to the power plant. Malfunction suspected. Repeat, malfunction suspected. Preparing the EPod for detachment and ascent. Scuttle plan activates in twenty minutes.”

I checked my watch; it read 3:40 p.m. At four o’clock according to Ivy, the station would disintegrate.

“Bowman, pull the ROV back from the monopole,” Williams screamed her face white with terror.

He sat back at the console and yanked the joystick toward him and waited for something to happen. The klaxon continued to wail as the screen rolled with unending code.

“Somebody do something,” Bowman pleaded. “It’s not responding.”

“C’mon, Marker. Wanna take a dive?”

I first looked at him as if he was crazy then realized it was our responsibility to fix the problem. That’s what we were being paid for.

“Sure, Chief. SeaPod or Exosuit?”

Bowman watched our exchange through saucer eyes.

“You can’t be serious,” he said. “You’ll be trapped out there.”

“Dead serious, Dr. Bowman,” Briscoe said. “How else are we going to pull that ROV off the monopole? The umbilical is sourcing it power, draining the station.”

”Well, the Exosuits are all in the flooded Pod Bay 1 except for two emergency suits in Pod Bay 3 under the mess hall. Use them if you must; they’re close to the action so just head left when you exit the bay. I’m going to settle the crew. They must be ready to mutiny by now.”