Sea Station Umbra

Chapter 19. The Visitor

“Station Alert! Station Alert!” Ivy’s voice boomed from the overhead speakers startling us. “We have a visitor. A large submarine is pulling along side the dome fifteen meters out on the starboard side. According to my submersible database and the sonar returns from its structure, it shows to be a Kilo-class submarine modified to operate at this depth, possibly a new PRC super-secret sub. However, none of its measurements exactly match any of China’s submarines in my database. I’ll report more information when my sensors detect it.”

“Oh shit. Speaking of battles,” Bowman said rising from his chair, “Here comes another one. That’s a Chinese Russian sub. They must be looking for their lost whale-ship.”

Sighing he bent over and spoke into the glowing panel on his desk, “Ivy how large do you estimate this ship to be?”

A soft purring sound preceded her answer.

“Its length measures to be eighty meters or about two-hundred-and-fifty-feet and the hull shows a ten meter beam; over thirty feet across. Weight is estimated at three-thousand tons.”

“Good God what a monster,” he said, “I had no idea they could dive this deep.”

He looked at me with eyes like saucers and returned his attention to Ivy.

“What’s it doing now Ivy?” he asked.

“At a standstill ten meters off the ocean floor. Its engines have gone quiet and its sonar is pinging the area, apparently looking for something other than us.”

“They are searching for their ship,” I said. “What do we do now?”

“We wait and pray. Hopefully they will move on after an unsuccessful search. They do have a moon pool according to the whale-ship’s logbook but it can’t be used at this depth so I don’t expect any knocks on our doors.”

“Implement silent running Ivy. PA announcements off.” he ordered.

“Do we have armaments on the station Dave?” I asked exploring our defensive options.

“Yes, we have three torpedoes tubes on each flank of the crawler’s hull but if we use them the explosion will surely take the station with it. They obviously know that. That’s why they’re nearly on top of us.”

“Want me to go rouse the Chief and prepare a SeaPod for diving?”

“And what would you do out there, Matt? Kick sand in their face?”

“Well no but that’s not a terrible idea,” I said snickering, “Might blind them.”

Briscoe blustered back into the room and rushed up to us.

“Did I hear my name called? You can’t rouse me when I never made into my bunk before all hell broke loose again. What is it this time another submarine? That’s what Ivy said.”

I glanced up and said, “Yep, a big one. Might as well sit this one out. We’re pretty helpless against it.”

With the station’s heating vents barely blowing air, the room began to chill down as we sat in dead silence waiting for something to happen.

“Is it getting cold in here or it just my cold-flashes returning?” asked the Chief.

Bowman stared at his computer screen.

“No, it is not you. We’re on silent running. Every system is running at reduced power to prevent vibrations and noise. It’ll drop to about forty degrees in the station before the auxiliary heaters kick in. The sub should be gone by then.”

“But what if it doesn’t?” he countered.

“Then we put on coats.”

Suddenly something from Ivy’s announcement resonated through my mind.

“Did Ivy just say the sub was on the starboard side of the station? That’s near the monopole. I wonder if they’re close enough for it to affect them.”

“I don’t know let me check,” Bowman said.

Bending over her console he said, “Ivy, submarine status?”

“No change. Still in position pinging their sonar.”

After twenty minutes with no additional information from Ivy, Briscoe appeared restless.

“Hey, Dr. Bowman, is there a coffee center in the Z-room? I need a cup. This waiting is killing me. Either I get a cup or fall asleep right here and fall out of my chair. And that would be embarrassing.”

Bowman smiled at the break in tension.

“Sure, Mr. Briscoe, but you may have to make a pot, with the guys gone from their workstations. The room normally sits empty when we’re traveling or disconnected from the cable.”

Minutes passed before he called back:

“Can I bring anybody a cup of fresh java?”

“Count me in, Chief,” I shouted.

“I also would like one, two sugars, no cream. There are cup carriers on the shelf under the pot.”

Teetering the carrier, he reentered the room and distributed the steaming coffees.

“Did I miss anything while I was gone?”

“Oh, if only it would go that fast,” Bowman said. “They’re trying to instill fear with their inert proximity and silence.”

Chuckling Briscoe commented, “Working for me. You, Marker?”

Bowman sat up in his chair and leaned in toward us.

“Look guys if they wanted to kill us they would have already done it by now. All they have to do is fire one tiny torpedo toward us. Their hull can take the impact. On their sonar, we’re just a big balloon hanging over a bulls-eye. Impossible to miss.”

“Any evasive measures available?” the Chief asked.

Scoffing he answered, “Yeah, after we spend ten minutes activating the bridge and starting all the wheels into motion we roar off at a half-mile-an-hour. So, no. We got nothing.”

Thirty minutes later after fruitlessly discussing an evasive defense in the event of a torpedo attack, we returned our attention to the sub. Bowman again asked Ivy for its status.

“Little change. They’re still motionless but settling toward the floor. Sonar is still chirping but growing softer as if they’re limiting their search”

“Or losing their power,” Briscoe added.

On his observation, we all looked at each other.

“Could that be possible? I mean for the monopole to affect something that large?” I asked.

“We have no precedence as to what it can do, Matt. And, even if we base our projections on what it did a day ago they could all be wrong today. He hiked up his sleeve and glanced at his watch.

“Hmm. Williams should be leaving Pod Bay 1 right about now. Hope she goes out to port and avoids our sleeping giant.”

“She’ll take that route just to avoid the monopole,” I said, “She heard Ivy’s message I’m sure. She wouldn’t go that way anyway.”

“Ivy, has Lt. Williams left the station?” Bowman asked.

“Yes, Dr. Bowman. I tracked her safely out past the submarine with passive sonar. She’s on her way to the surface now. I’ve determined that she left the bay door open for her return. Shall I close it with the suspicious vessel in the area?”

“Yes, Ivy. And reopen it on her return after you verify the craft as one of ours.”

“Understood, Dr. Bowman. I’ll signal ID confirmation using light semaphores retaining acoustic silence. The SeaPod is programmed for that.”

“Well it seems you’ve thought of everything, Dave,” I said. “I’m more impressed every moment I’m here.”

He stared at me curiously for a few seconds.

“Matt, you must need rest badly or you would remember that you described that sandcastle feature to me almost twenty years ago and told me exactly how it would work for evading enemy interception. Remember?”

My mind was fogging over with exhaustion, but I did remember that design. He was so excited about it he brought a small flashlight with him to the beach the next day and even created a flashing code for signaling the drone ships. I guess I was just good at implanting ideas in my younger days.

“But I thought that was your design,” I said, “You even created a signaling code. I remember you used three shorts three longs and three shorts for Save Our Station. You had me convinced it would work. What glorious imaginations we had back in those days.”

“You’re right and I hate to admit it, Matt, but mine’s being challenged right now. Nothing down here is even imaginable. My reality keeps changing planes and I’m always getting bumped off the passenger list.”

“I suspect that Admiral Franklin and his guest may ground those planes when they arrive, Dr. Bowman. In fact I’m kinda counting on that,” said the Chief smiling.

Then lowering his gaze in a hushed voice he added, “I’m not comfortable when dealing with the unknown either. I’d rather know what I’m dealing—”

“Dr. Bowman, the sub now rests on the ocean floor and has gone silent. Sonar pinging has stopped and life signs have ceased. Data suggests that power in the vessel has failed. Rescue measures should commence immediately.”

He bolted upright at Ivy’s interruption and glared at her panel.

“What? Rescue the enemy, Ivy? Why?”

“Because they are human, Dr. Bowman. Something I can never hope to be. Humans consider life precious then allow it to die without remorse, an emotion I can never hope to possess. I am just relating my innate programming to this situation not fully understanding the meaning of the word enemy or its antonym friend. When I’m finally programmed with sentience in my next version V, I may fully understand my mistakes in reasoning. Until then I remain a logical entity relying on strict rules for my behavior and responses. Does that clarify my reaction to the ship’s power failure, Dr. Bowman?”

Sighing he said, “Yes, Ivy. Understood.”

Then he paused and added, “Privacy please, Ivy, until I give the keyword ‘awaken.’”

With his command, her eye that had always glowed from the desk panel went dark.

“Good,” he continued, “Now we can talk.”

The Chief sat up in his chair squinted and eyed Bowman.

“Are you planning to rescue the entire crew of that ship? In a sub that huge, there must be at least fifty crewmen. If we bring them all aboard the station they can easily overtake us. They may even commandeer the station and take it for their own use.”

I looked at the Chief now confused from Ivy’s compassion.

“Chief, I believe you are playing out a moral dilemma that has plagued humans for centuries. There is no right answer. The mind answers one way while the heart answers another. Neither is wrong. Neither is right. I suggest we leave the question for the Admiral when he arrives within the hour.”

Bowman agreed nodding.

“Well said, Matt. This is truly an international crisis brewing before us and I prefer not to take any responsibility with a rash decision. For all I know this may go straight to the President’s desk for a final resolution.”

“But it better be quick,” I added, “those men can’t live for long without fresh oxygen especially in that minus-fifty-degree water temperature around the monopole. They’ll either suffocate or freeze to death… or both.”

Briscoe rose and turned to leave then looked back, “Please excuse me, gentlemen, while I go try to catch at least a few of those forty winks I promised my body. And as far as my concern for that sub out there? I say we saved ourselves a torpedo.” Then he was gone.