Sea Station Umbra

Chapter 21. Voices

Silkwood, sitting anxiously with us in the SeaPod waiting for the bay to drain down, scanned his eyes across the room and stopped them on the Exosuits.

“What are those robot-looking things over there?”

“Atmospheric diving suits… Exosuits we call them,” Briscoe replied. “They’re basically one-man submarines.”

“Can anyone use them?”

“Yes. But first I would recommend some training from me and permission from Dr. Bowman. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

The Chief tilted his head. “Why would you ask?”

“Mr. Briscoe, a cursory glance at an object which challenges the laws of physics is not in the cards for me. Like Mr. Cross, I cannot give up and leave it behind until I have interacted with it, understood its origin, and grasped its capabilities. And, as much of my research work involves directed energy weapons I see a shortcut here for a new realm of superweapon. I need to go back out in an Exosuit and examine the object in more detail. Only then can I even attempt to help your situation here.”

“But you’ll die, Dr. Silkwood,” I said.

“Has it directly killed anyone here yet?”

I had to think before I answered.

“No. But it has indirectly caused the deaths of many including those souls out there in the submarine with the ruptured hull.”

“Aha! So it’s really the depth’s pressure that’s killing them, not the object?”

“Well, yes. But if you approach it too close your suit will lose power and you’ll most assuredly join the casualties around it. You will then die as they did as a result of its influence on your suit’s failing technology.”

“So as I understand it the problem lies in my not being able to retreat from the object once I near it. Is that true?”

“Basically yes. Then you’ll suffocate within minutes as your suit powers down from the object’s drain.”

“Well I wouldn’t consider asking anyone to accompany me directly to the site as did you, Mr. Cross, but there are other means of remote rescue if that were to happen.”

“Like what?” I answered pissed at his accusation.

“Like a rope. Tied around the waist of my suit. Leading to a suited rescuer standing many meters away or waiting in a SeaPod to pull me from harm. Can someone do that for me?”

“Well you’ll have to ask Dr. Bowman and if he agrees I’ll do it. Not for the weapons aspect but for saving the station.”

“Fair enough,” he said, “Let’s go up and meet with him. I also need to report in with Admiral Franklin.”

Entering the mess, we found the remaining station staff sitting with coffee, some with food. at long tables quietly talking among themselves. I knew they were primed to leave the site in a few hours and were awaiting the status of our delayed departure.

Dave, sporting a broad smile, saw us walk in and waved us over to his small table of six with three chairs standing empty.

“Ah there are the heroes,” he said rising as we neared. “Please sit with us and accept our appreciation for your bravery. Thought we were goners.”

As we took the vacant chairs, Briscoe spoke up.

“We thought we were going down the same route but thanks to Marker’s dumping that load ballast we broke loose. It was easier the second time around with your SeaPod with both of us pulling.”

“So you had to do that twice? Once for you and again for us? That must have been quite a scare for you guys.”

He pointed at Silkwood. “It was, but not so much for one passenger; he wants to go back out in an Exosuit on a lifesaver tether. Get up close and personal with it.”

Bowman glanced at Silkwood.

“Is that true? That’s never been done.”

“Yes, Dr. Bowman, I’ve seen an object that shouldn’t exist and I’ve seen time run backward. Now I have to return and understand how and why it exists. That’s just the nature of my business.”

He paused then concluded, “But I want a tether. Something to pull me free if I encounter a problem. All I’ll need is a rope long enough for my partner to distance the object’s fury.”

From the end of the table, Franklin joined in.

“I see no problem with that, Jonas. That’s why I brought you down here. To examine and explain the inexplicable. It’s all yours and I’m sure Dr. Bowman can easily provide your tethering request with a long rope. Have at it and summarize your findings when you return. Just be careful.”

Sitting beside him, Williams with her hand to her head, looked up at Silkwood.

“We do have one extended-life Exosuit. Has an additional battery pack for longer diving times. We can suit him up in that one. It’ll give him more close-in time before he loses power.”

“Excellent Lieutenant. I’ll take it,” Silkwood responded.

Briscoe sighed and murmured under his breath.

“Here we go again, Marker. You gonna buddy him out?”

“Only if you’ll get me a coffee, Chief.”

“You’re too easy, Marker,” he chuckled. Rising from his chair, he looked over the table and asked, “Anyone else need coffee? Dr. Silkwood?”

“No thank you, Mr. Briscoe. I prefer tea. Hot tea. No cream or sugar.”

“I’ll see if I can brew some up for you. We have hot water and we have tea. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

Minutes later, returning with three cups in a carrier he placed it on the table and stared at it as if something was wrong.

“Forget the tea, Chief?”

He glanced over at me then back at the carrier.

“See anything strange, Marker?”

I stared for a few seconds and counted two dark coffees and one lighter cup.

“No, Chief. Did you forget the creamer?”

He scoffed and sighed.

“I know as well as you do that neither of us uses creamer… and you use two sugars. This one’s yours.”

“Thank you,” I answered taking my cup. Then staring at the other cups, I noticed what he was worried about: the liquid in them was not level.

“What? Is the table tilted?” I asked tilting the carrier to level the cups. “It’s about two degrees off level I’d say.”

Backing off he looked across the mess hall. Then he turned ninety degrees and looked again.

“It’s not the table or the cupholder. The station is listing a few degrees to starboard.”

Bowman in a side conversation with Williams keyed on the word and eyed Briscoe.

“Listing?” he repeated. “That’s not possible. Ivy keeps the station level within a tenth of a degree with servo-controlled levelers in the wheels.”

He stood and ran over to the Ivy console.

“Ivy, Dave Bowman. Why is the station listing?”

“Hello, Dave Bowman. Let me check my inclinometer data… There seems to be a problem receiving data from the three front crawler-wheel levelers under Pod Bay 2. They do not respond to my leveling requests. So I’m compensating as well as I can with the other wheels.”

As I watched, Dave rammed his fingers through his thinning gray hair.

“Wh-why haven’t you warned us of this Ivy?”

“I did not consider it a problem, Dave. I assumed it was the surface settling. A few degrees off level does not affect the operation of anything in the station. I was prepared to warn you at a five-degree list.”

He sighed loud enough for us to hear from our table.

“Ivy, from now on report any station changes, inconsistencies or problems to me immediately no matter how unimportant they may seem. I’m especially worried about the station’s stability.”

“Yes, Dave Bowman, I erred and I’m sorry.”

He turned and walked back to the table mumbling.

“No you’re not. You’re not programmed for sorrow.”

From her console, she loudly countered.

“How about I apologize? Will that work?”

“No. It just means your thesaurus is working. Good comeback though.”

“Good evening, Dave Bowman. I’ll be vigilant of your stability. Ivy out.”

Sitting back in his seat, he looked at us and whispered shielding his mouth from her eye.

“If anyone ever hears me mention the word marriage, please shoot me on the spot.”

When the laughter finally died down, we returned to the serious business of Silkwood’s request: revisiting the object.

“Lieutenant,” Dave asked, “can you go up to Deck 3 and find a roll of half-inch braided nylon rope. There are one-, two- and five-hundred-foot spools. Grab a two-hundred-foot one for Dr. Silkwood’s use and bring it down to Pod Bay 1. We’ll stage his dive from there. Mr. Briscoe, you and Matt take Dr. Silkwood with you down to the staging area and test him out.”

He cleared his throat, sipped from his cup, and said, “Now I’m going to my office and huddle with the Admiral about our recent visitor. Apparently its crew died with the hull rupture so there will be no rescue missio.”

Standing from the table, he addressed the physicist.

“Dr. Silkwood, I would like for you to spend a few moments of your time around the object evaluating the damage to those three front wheels. Last information I heard only one was involved; now it’s three. That worries me.”

“Yes sir, I’ll check them out but I’ll have to get in close for that. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

As Briscoe carefully lowered the Exosuit’s upper shell over Silkwood’s upraised arms, Williams dropped a heavy reel of yellow rope through the hatch, hitting the floor with an echoing boom.

Briscoe jumped, prematurely releasing the shell.

“Lieutenant, that scared the crap out of me.” he yelled then returned his attention to Silkwood’s suiting procedure. “Are you all right, Jonas?”

“Yes sir,” he answered through its intercom, “that just made more aware of its mass. How much does it weigh?”

Buckling the upper and lower shell together, the Chief looked into his faceplate.

“With the extra batteries the upper shell weighs around three-hundred pounds. The lower shell, pants and boots is about one-fifty.”

“So I just gained a quarter ton?” Silkwood asked his voice distorted by the electronic interface.

“Yeah, close to that but you won’t feel it diving. It weighs nothing underwater in its neutral-buoyancy mode. You can also use voice control to fill or purge the ballasts as we used in the SeaPod maneuvers. It’s always a good escape mode unless your power is gone. More instructions are on the Heads Up Display in the upper right of your helmet. Push the top button on your cuff panel to talk over the acoustic intercom. If no one answers you pray.”

“I think I understand all that, Mr. Briscoe. I’m ready to explore the object. Let’s go.”

“B-but don’t you want a training session here in the safety of the bay?” the Chief asked.

“No. Can you train me to encounter the object?” his voice growled, “That’s my ultimate nemesis.”

Briscoe stared at him and shook his head then looked at me.

“Load the SeaPod, Marker. I’ll tie you together, close the pod bay hatch, and then climb in. Make room for one more.”

“You’re going with me?”

“Marker, no force on earth could keep us apart on this death mission. I can’t see any way it will end well.”

Shortly, we were ready for diving but before I pushed the Flood Bay icon, I noticed Silkwood was not locked in the stirrups.

“Dr. Silkwood, you need to step over to a pair of those recessed rails in the floor and kick your boots in until they lock. That will prevent you from washing around the room as the bay fills. Copy that?”

He stepped awkwardly to the rails and kicked in one boot then the other.

“Look okay?” he asked.

“Can you move your feet?”

“No. I’m locked in as you instructed.”

“Good. Now after the bay floods and we’re ready to dive push down with your toes and back your feet out. Then voice-command your suit’s direction and speed like ‘forward one-knot.’ Got that? ”

“Hey guys, this is scarier than it looks. Can I still ask questions after we exit the bay?”

“Oh yeah. I’ll turn our SeaCom sensitivity to max so we should be able to hear you even at the end of the rope. Two-hundred feet away. Briscoe has set your intercom for full duplex. Just speak and listen; there’s no switching involved.”

“Roger that. Let’s dive.”

Minutes later the bay had filled and Silkwood stood under the xenon lighting still locked in the stirrups.

“You need to leave the bay before us so the vortex from our prop wash doesn’t spin you dizzy. I know that from experience.”

Obeying, he moonwalked out of the rails and stood looking at us.

“Now what?”

Briscoe rolled his eyes and whispered:

“Oh this is gonna be fun.”

I laughed then replied to Silkwood, “You still have negative buoyancy so you can walk around. Leave it that way. You’ll need it when you reach the bottom. Now just turn toward the door and when it opens propel yourself outward with voice commands as we said and wait for us. ‘Stop’ or ’hold’ works well but with your negative buoyancy you’ll slowly sink with ‘stop.’ ‘Hold’ will keep your altitude about the same using the suit’s vertical thrusters. Got that?”

“Open the door and let’s try.”

The door opened with a gentle whoosh, which I’d never before heard. Must be the SeaCom’s added sensitivity I thought.

Silkwood stepped around and faced outward into the darkness.

“Forward one-knot,” he said starting a slow forward motion out of the bay lights.

At the far edge of the lighting, he disappeared.

“Hey guys it’s dark out here. How do I turn on the lights?”

“Say ‘floods on.’”

On his command, the suit’s floods illuminated showing him as a white-outlined shadow still drifting outward trailing the yellow rope behind him.

“Hold,” he said bringing himself to a stop hovering in place some sixty feet out.

“Good,” I said, “Now we’re coming out behind you. Move off to starboard and give us room to exit.”

“How do I do that?”

Briscoe at the end of his patience sighed. Surprising me, he grabbed the microphone from my hand and yelled back.

“Read the damn HUD! It’s all in there. Just look up to your helmet’s display.”

Seconds passed before anything happened. Then we heard his command loud and clear.

“Turn to starboard ten meters then halt.”

It was like watching a beginner at a video game causing us to chuckle quietly wondering what he would do next, but slowly his suit veered right and went out of view behind the bay wall.

“We’re coming out,” I announced. “Steer clear.”

As I pushed the joystick forward, we moved out of the bay into the darkness with Silkwood still hovering level with us at some distance off to the right of our bubble. I turned the SeaPod toward him illuminating his suit and presenting a perfect image of a space walker on a repair mission trailing a yellow tether connecting him to his spaceship.

“Looks like a scene from Gravity,” Briscoe said. “Amazing the effect a simple rope tether can add.”

“Yeah. Wish we had a camera. We could give him a selfie he’d never forget.”

“Going down to explore,” he said then he issued some more commands, which surprisingly took him directly past the submarine and down to the ocean floor landing near the monopole.

“On site, gentlemen. I made it!” his voice crackled over the SeaCom.

“I’m setting the SeaPod down about fifty meters behind you, facing our floods your direction. Narrate your findings as you go.”

The floor’s contact bumped gently through the cockpit as I released the joystick. We were stationary lying silently on the ocean floor facing him with the submarine to our left and his lights appearing as four dim dots off in the forward distance. The only sounds I could hear were our whirring air-scrubber fans and his jagged breathing sifting through the intercom’s speaker.

“Roger your command. I’m about two meters from the object and its fiery disk has gone black in the center. And I mean black. It’s the damndest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s like a hole in my vision. Just nothing there. My power meter is just barely starting to drop so I’ll continue on.”

“Okay but let us know if you get into trouble,” I added. “We’ll pull you right out.”

His voice returned with more static.

“Now standing by the three missing wheels. All around me, streams of glowing blue plasma are oozing into its black core. Having to dodge them. A forth wheel is now being pulled weirdly distorting into the hole and even the bulkhead of the crawler’s base behind the wheels is grotesquely distorting and drooping down toward it. Looking over at the sub’s hull, I see it’s sagging in on itself like a tire going flat. My surroundings remind me exactly what I’ve read about an event horizon’s predicted effects. I must be entering the Kerr ring.”

“Thank you, Dr. Silkwood for the description. Sounds like you may need to leave. Are you ready?”

“No, no. Much more to see. I’m in a wonderland of impossible physics. Going toward the black ho-ll-lll-le.”

“Did you just call it a black hole?” I asked trying to confirm his statement. A change in the intercom’s sound lowered the pitch of his voice and slowed it down into a deepening slow-motion drawl.

With no answer I asked, “How’s your suit’s HUD clock? Running backwards?”

“Oooh nooo, nnott rruunnning, iiittt’s raaciing baaackwaarrrds.”

“We’re pulling you out now, Silkwood. Clear your rope and prepare for a jolt.”

“Nooo dooo noottt dooo thhhaaaattt, I’mmm nnooott rreeaddyyy, yyyetttt.” His rapid breathing had slowed to a ghoulish roar between words.

I stared at Briscoe needing an opinion.

“What should I do, Chief?”

“Just cool your jets, Marker. Let him stay. He’s in his realm. He wants this experience before he goes back home.”

Agreeing, I nodded affirmatively.

“Well he’s getting it. When his suit alarms power failure over our SeaCom we’ll jerk him out. Give him maximum exposure until that happens. Shhh. Let’s listen.”

His roaring breaths continued until suddenly: a pause.

“Helllloo lliitttllle onnnne. Whaaat aarrre yoouuu?”

His breathing restarted.

“Whhhyyy aarrre yoouuu heeerre?”

We leaned in toward the speaker listening for a response. Nothing.

“Whhheeerrre aarrre yoouuu frrroommm?”

Again nothing sounded from the intercom but his heavy roaring breaths.

“Foouuur poooiiinnnt twwooo whaaat? Liiiighhtt yeeaarrrs? Immmposssiibblle.”

“What’s he talking about? And to who?” the Chief asked.

“Sounds like he’s hallucinating, Chief. Maybe his air mixture’s off. Could be CO₂ narcosis. We need to pull him back.”

“No wait. Something’s happening.”

In the distance, the outline of his suit began to glimmer with a brilliant blue-white light illuminating the sub and crawler base with sporadic lightning flashes like those from an arc welder’s rods.

Then his deeply distorted voice replaced his uneven growling breaths.

“I’mmm cccoooommmiiinnggg iiiinnnn. Arrrrrree yooouuuu thhhheeerrrre? I’mmmmm sstttrrrrreeeettttcchhhiiinnnggg. Ooohhhh wwooooowww…….”

As his voiced tapered off, the yellow rope trailing over the ocean floor from our SeaPod to his suit suddenly jerked up from the ground and wildly uncurled, straightening until it was taut, and then yanked us forward several feet. All at once, his glow went dark and the rope slackened and gently drifted back to the bottom.

“What happened, Chief?”

“I don’t know. Call him on the SeaCom. See if he’s okay.”

In the eerie quiet, now void of his roaring sounds, I pushed the intercom.

“Are you all right, Dr. Silkwood? Please respond.”

Silence.

“Are you there, Jonas?”

Silence.

“Reel in the rope, Marker. Now! We have to pull him out before it’s too late.”

The urgency in his voice struck a chord and I jammed the Reel In icon starting a whining motor beneath our feet. With our eyes glued to the swiftly approaching rope, we watched in horror as the distant end appeared in our floods with nothing in tow, dragged across the floor throwing up silt and then drew into the reel spinning endlessly.

“Silkwood’s gone!” Briscoe said, “The rope must have broken. Let’s go get him.”

Even though I wanted to share the Chief’s optimism, I knew that Silkwood had vanished, drawn by his compelling curiosity into another plane of existence… or dimension. We were suddenly dealing with deadly consequences and I feared we would be next. Ironically, his death, or whatever it was, was the first one directly caused by the monopole.

“No, Chief. We shouldn’t return. He’s gone. I can feel it. No need to go back and jeopardize our own lives again. We have to return to the station and warn Dave of the impending danger.”