Sea Station Umbra

Chapter 16. The Dragon Returns

Dropping down the ladder into Pod Bay 2, we saw Bowman, standing beside Williams and Yung Ching, looking into the whale-ship’s cockpit. They were abuzz about something but we couldn’t tell about what.

Ignoring our intrusion, they continued their discussion as Williams spoke.

“…but look at his Tang Zhuang jacket with that gold embroidered dragon. And he shaved his Fu-Manchu moustache. He looks less menacing, milder now in death than in life.”

“Went incognito I guess,” replied Ching. “He used to resemble Christopher Lee but without that ‘stache he looks more like Bruce Lee.”

“You’re right. In death he’s now the Dragon,” Williams interjected sorrowfully.

I knew something was up seeing their familiarity with the dead pilots so I interrupted.

“What’s going on guys? Who are you talking about?”

“Lt. Commander Dan Li,” Bowman answered. “That’s him on the right. In the dragon jacket. He’s one of the pilots — the interpreter that went missing when we found his empty Exosuit. Remember?”

“Oh yeah, but what does that mean? He’s a mole?” I asked seeing the whole security scenario change before my eyes.

“I’m afraid so, Matt,” Bowman answered. “Or at least that’s the way it appears until we get more information.” He turned back looking around the bay searching.

“Can we get into its damn hatch with something? Anybody have a crowbar?”

Williams knocked on the rubber hull returning a dull thud.

“I don’t think so, Dr. Bowman. This ship’s sealed up tight. Probably take more than we have to open it. Might as well launch it out to sea and explode it.”

“Wait a minute guys,” I said, “I have an idea.”

Briscoe rolled his eyes.

“Here we go again. Another one of Marker’s hair-brained ideas. Get ready folks.”

Ignoring Briscoe’s sarcasm Bowman stared at me for moments before speaking.

“What do you need, Matt? I’m game. I’ve always trusted your intuition.”

“I assume the hull’s resistant to the pressures of this depth,” I said, “so it will take almost a ton per square inch to break it open. But… it’s a different story if we apply the pressure from the inside. Now I’m going MacGyver on you so listen closely. I need a half-inch threaded hollow pipe about four or five inches long, an electric drill with a long half-inch bit, a pair of vice grips and a high-pressure air tank and hose. That’s all.”

Within fifteen minutes Bowman had gathered the parts for me awaiting my use. After chucking the bit into the drill I put a half-inch hole through the heavy Plexiglas bubble, which I estimated to be six-inches thick, threaded the pipe into the hole until it was tight, then attached the hose to it and opened the air tank’s valve. Everyone stood immobile, apprehensive as air hissed into the sealed cabin.

“Stand back,” I said, “That front cap’s going to pop off at any minute.”

In the middle of the Chief’s cynical laughing there was a loud boom when the bubble blew several feet across the floor and then rocked like a dropped salad bowl for minutes.

“Wow!” Bowman exclaimed. “That was really thinking outside of the box, Matt. I’ll have to remember that. I always look at pressure as a foe but never thought of using it as a friend. Well done my friend.”

“Well your hydraulic elevators made me think that way, Dave. You’re already using it as a friend you just don’t realize it.”

Nodding, Bowman turned to the open cockpit, ducked, and cautiously entered avoiding the three dead pilots.

“Somebody get these traitors out of here before I kill them again and get some damn mug shots. I want to send them to HQ to see if they’re listed as spies. I just can’t believe that Dan Li is in here. Fricking turncoat!”

He continued toward the rear of the whale-ship and looked back.

“Here’s how they did that horrible empty suit trick. It’s an airlock hatch into a small flood bay. Li in his Exosuit probably entered the flood bay from the ocean, took it off in the airlock and then dumped it back into the ocean as he stayed safely dry inside. That bastard!”

Looking around on a nearby shelf, he grabbed a thick red marker and held it up for us to see. “And here’s the grease pencil he used to mark his suit and Edward’s SeaPod. Must have used that camouflaged Chinese ADS in the corner for that venture. With this whale-ship and that suit he could lead them all around the station without being seen but he never expected that the monopole would foul his plans.”

From outside the whale-ship Williams and I watched the hall of horrors unfold before our eyes. We had discovered the boogey man’s lair complete with incriminating evidence supporting their illicit activities. There was no Davy Jones Locker mystery involved just ordinary criminal espionage and now we had the smoking gun.

As he swiveled around to leave, still hunched over, he noticed a thick notebook, grabbed it, and brought it out with him. Across its cover were Chinese glyphs meaning nothing to him or us.

“Where’s Yung Ching. This is probably their logbook. I need an interpreter,” he said, scanning the bay.

“Down at the end of the bay moving the bodies. Took Briscoe with him to move them but he seemed not to mind,” I said. “Ching said that he was going for a camera after that.”

Bowman sighed and squatted by the open cockpit, put his elbows on his knees, and looked down resting his head between his hands.

“You okay, Dr. Bowman?” Williams asked.

He glanced up at her and went back into his position.

“Yeah I’m fine, Lieutenant. Just trying to absorb everything that’s happened here and what it all means to our mission.”

“Well I hate bring up the elephant in the room, Dave,” I said, “but that ship is just a small sub like our SeaPods. It probably has only a ten- or twenty-mile range. That means there is a larger mother ship somewhere around us within twenty miles waiting for its return. Either a big sub or surface vessel.”

“Oh dear God, you’re right, Matt,” he said. “I have to get this information to Point Mugu. When Ching returns with the camera have him bring the shots to my office ASAP.”

As he left the bay, Williams and I went back and found Briscoe arranging the bodies on the floor of the bay like a criminal line-up. After opening their eyes with his thumb and forefinger, he backed off and dusted his hands.

“There. That should give some damn good mug shots,” he said. Then he looked back past us and yelled, “Where’s Ching? I need that camera.”

From the back of the bay by the ladder came a winded voice.

“I’m coming. I’m coming. Be right there.”

He raced up to us and started to take a photograph for the line-up, standing over and straddling Li’s body.

“Gimme that camera, Yung,” said the Chief, reaching out. “I’m taller. I’ll get a better angle.”

He relinquished the camera as I noticed tears forming in his eyes.

“Hey Yung,” I said grabbing his shoulder pulling him closer, “I know you lost a friend and I’m truly sorry for your loss but he was not who you thought he was.”

“But seeing him again reminds me that he was such a good man and loyal friend to me. Everybody loved him,” he sniffled. “I just can’t imagine him doing this to us.”

I knew his pain, having lost my brother and parents when I was younger. No matter what they had done, the memories always seemed to fall on the softer times of their lives. I hugged him tighter as he broke down and began to weep uncontrollably on my shoulder.

“Hey now,” the Chief said putting a hand on his back. “He’s in a better place and probably at peace with his wayward ways. I never met him but I feel we’re all better off without his mischief.”

Yung sniffled again, wiped his eyes, and looked back at Briscoe.

“I guess you’re right, Mr. Briscoe, but it’s still hard to lose a buddy like that especially when you realize that he was really your enemy. I was duped so badly; I feel like a fool.”

“Hey Yung, let’s take these photos to Bowman. He’s waiting for them,” Williams said, sliding her arm around his back pushing him toward the ladder.

Williams, Ching, Briscoe, and I entered the vault noticing the open Z-room hatch door showing through to Bowman’s office.

Approaching it, I knocked.

“We have the mug shots.”

“Come,” he said.

As I opened his door, he looked up from a folder.

“Close and lock all the doors behind you including the vault’s.”

Williams turned back, rushed through the Z-room into the vault, and pulled the heavy door until it locked. Then as I watched, she closed the Z-room hatch door and pulled the locking lever. Finally, she reentered his office and closed the door behind her.

“Done sir. We’re secure,” she said, out of breath. “What now?”

“Good. I see you have the camera, Mr. Briscoe. May I have it please?”

The Chief handed him the camera and waited.

“Sit down please; you’re all making me nervous. This may take a while.”

We sat as he attached a USB cable to the camera. Then out the corner of my eye, I saw Ching checking out the thick leather-covered notebook lying near him on the desk.

“Mind if I look at that book, Dr. Bowman?” Ching asked. “Those glyphs on the cover are Mandarin. It says Log Book. Is that from the whale-ship?”

“Oh yes, Lt. Ching. I want you to examine that book and summarize it for me. Found it on a shelf in that ship. Thought it might be a log. Help yourself.”

Bowman resumed cabling the camera to his computer as Ching lifted the tome from the desk, opened the cover, and began flipping through pages.

Williams leaned over and glanced at the pages.

“Well what does it say, Yung? Anything interesting?”

“Hmm, wait a minute. It’s pretty vague. No names so far. They are documenting their recent dives around the ‘dome’ as they call it.”

Now intrigued by his translation I also leaned over into the book as if I could read anything. All I saw were pages filled with Chinese symbols and a few hand-drawn sketches.

Suddenly he gasped, laid the book on his lap, and began to weep again.

Bowman jerked up from his computer.

“What’s wrong, Yung? What did you find?”

Ching pulled up the book and pointed into a page. In between sobs, he gazed on the strange glyphs.

“This entry dated June 11^th, 2016 tells of a venture around the dome. It says, ‘We finally captured a diver in his strange suit. He was alone with another diver tending to sensor probes some distance away. Brought him in, marked his suit with YOU LOSE, and dumped it back through the water lock onto the ocean floor.’”

He put his hands to his eyes wiped them and with a wavering voice admitted:

“That other diver was me. But, I never saw them. The symbols I saw on his suit were a wrong dialect of Mandarin for me to understand probably northern. Seemed more like ancient glyphs.”

He sniffled and referred back to the log.

“It continues, ‘Diver claimed he didn’t know Mandarin only English and said his name was Fook Yoo nothing else. Will take him back to mother ship and question him further. Must leave the dome location now. Instruments acting very strange.’”

Ching raised his reddened eyes and glared at Bowman.

“See? I told you he couldn’t be a spy. He was a captive.”

Bowman listened and closed his eyes for a few moments ignoring the three photographs loading on his computer’s screen.

“I’m truly sorry I rushed to judgment, Yung, but it appeared he was in cahoots with the pilots. He still could be and those words may be meant to deceive us if found. Disinformation it’s called. We use it often in our communications with headquarters.”

He glanced back at his screen typed some text into his keyboard and then emphatically hit a key.

“There! We’ll see what their database says about these interlopers.”

Directing his attention back to Ching he asked, “Anything else interesting. Does it mention the name of the mother ship?”

Ching studied further turning rapidly through the pages. At a page near the front, he stopped and began to read.

“Here’s something: ‘Left the ship from the submerged docking bay with Fook Yoo and headed back to the dome.’”

He glanced up at us with drying eyes.

“They must be talking about a moon pool or floodable bay.”

Now less distraught he continued his translation.

“‘Neared the dome with our echolocation simulator chirping and found a crashed empty mini-sub twisted in the wheels of the dome. Cut bubble loose with torch and tried to catch it before it drifted up and away with the current. Currents were too fast to capture. Retreated to home ship.’”

Captivated with Ching’s interpretation Bowman scoffed, “Of course they wouldn’t name their home ship. Too risky if they got caught. But that explains a lot. Now we know what happened to Edwards’ SeaPod. Still don’t know what became of him though.”

“As much as I hate to admit it, Dr. Bowman, he’s probably fish food,” Williams said factually. “We all know of the dangers out there and most of us don’t hot rod around by ourselves for that reason. He was just careless plus he encountered the monopole.”

Ching flinched and looked up at her from the logbook.

“I was told to avoid that when we retrieved the cable tap. What is it anyway? Sounds like the name of a theoretical object I once studied in a physics class. But it can’t exist in reality.”

“You’re right, Yung, it can’t but that’s what Mr. Briscoe named it and it’s stuck for lack of a better name,” Bowman offered.

“But a monopole can’t exist,” Ching argued, “like a Yin without a Yang; a shadow without light, it’s an impossibility.”

I thought, rolling the dilemma over in my mind.

“That’s just what we called it, Yung. It is an inexplicable object. Just PFM. Sucks energy out of everything near it. Almost seems as if it’s acting like a neutron star drawing in energy and growing into a black hole. A black hole seed. But it’s bright now and getting brighter.”

Bowman squinted and shook off the notion.

“Well, whatever it is I think I should report it to headquarters. Could be something that fell off a cargo or research ship. They’ll surely be looking for it with its unusual characteristics.”

Ching continued to read through the logbook, apparently finding no other information related to the mysteries, but he did find and pause on their assessment of our mission.

“Seems like they are convinced that we’re only measuring radiation,” he said. “They suspected that we might have tapped into a communications cable but found no evidence of that. From what it says here they’ve been tracking our actions for only a few weeks. That’s when all the weird things started happening around the station.”

Bowman exhaled and smiled turning to Williams.

“Well that’s comforting to know. I was afraid our operation had been compromised but your cable intercept divers, Lt. Williams, have been the best there are in your covert cable connection work. Thanks to you and your divers we’re still a radiation monitoring station in the eyes of the world.”

He then turned to me and glanced between us.

“Now I must commend both of you for your excellent exploratory work with our strange occurrences. They now seem to be contained so we can move on with our operations and pull anchor later this evening. We are set—”

“Dr. Bowman, you have a live transmission arriving from headquarters,” Ivy interrupted from her small console on his desk. “Caller has set message security to Umbra ZX, scrambler level to Black. Would you like to take the call? Your office guests are all cleared for the information.”

Bowman turned to her console.

“Yes Ivy. Please put the caller through to my desk console on speakerphone.”

“Connecting…”

A few clicks and buzzes preceded the scrambler-distorted voice roaring deeply, resonating through the room.

“Hello Dave? Admiral John Franklin here at SSU headquarters. I just received your images and ran them through our international database of suspected foreign intelligence agents. Two of them hit immediately. The one on the left Xi Jin is a Chinese national working for the MSS, the Ministry of State Security out of Beijing. According to our passport records he is currently still in China. The middle photograph is of another Chinese national Ming Tse Tao who has visited the U.S. on temporary B1 visas numerous times negotiating for various China-US or CHUS transpacific cable repair contracts. We suspect him of counterintelligence activities during those trips. Finally, the third image on the right is of U.S. Navy Lt. Commander Dan Li, honor graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy in 2012 and according to our records Dave he is now serving as a crewman on Sea Station Umbra. Is that correct?”

“Yes, Admiral, that is correct.”

“May I ask how you came by these photographs, Dr. Bowman? The men all look deceased”

“Yes sir, that is also correct. They are deceased.”

“Then please explain why I’m holding the photographs of three dead men: one a USNA honor graduate and the other two known foreign spies”

“Well, Admiral, it’s a long story.”

“I have plenty of time. Try me.”

“A few hours ago a Chinese mini-sub disguised as a sperm whale calf crashed into the station’s base. It did little harm to Discovery One but killed the three occupants of the whale-ship. Those are the men in the pictures. We suspect Li was taken captive on a service dive and used as a guide for their subversive activities against us.”

“Wait. Whale-ship? Why did it crash? Was it a suicide mission?”

“No, Admiral, we don’t think so. It went down under the control of a strange monopole object on the ocean floor near Pod Bay 2 and lost power suffocating the men inside. The whale-ship is still intact minus the cockpit bubble but it can be reattached.”

Admiral Franklin took a moment to reply.

“Dave, you do realize your story sounds rather fantastical don’t you? Have you checked your station’s air supply for impurities? Like cannabis? Or maybe your drinking water for hallucinogens?”

“N-No, Admiral, it’s all true. Some very weird things are happening down here in addition to the Chinese espionage attempts. We’ve already lost our ROV and Edwards’ SeaPod to its power. All collecting down there around the monopole. Our clocks tick backward around it and it’s getting stronger by the hour.”

Again a pause.

“Hold a minute, Bowman. I need to check something.”

“Sure, Admiral, I’ll be here.”

Bowman’s description of our situation sounded as incredulous to me as the Admiral had suggested but it was really happening. I wanted to comment in Bowman’s defense but then Franklin might think we were all batty.