Sea Station Umbra

Chapter 6. Hangar 405

I found it strange that we had stopped at a small man-sized door at the rear of the hangar. A red sign on the door read: DANGER: ELECTRICAL ROOM — KEEP OUT!. As we stepped from the car, Greenfield motioned the driver to drive away leaving us standing alone in the dingy littered alleyway behind the hangar. He led me to the door and stopped.

Behind it was a room slightly larger than a telephone booth extending out from the hangar’s rear wall. It had never caught my attention in my four years on station but then I never used the alleys for travel. Off to the side of the door at shoulder level was a gray Cutler-Hammer breaker box looking weathered by years of salt sea air exposure. My eyes went wide when Greenfield quickly surveyed our surroundings and pulled open the cover revealing a sleek black numerical keypad. Then quickly he punched in a few numbers and closed the cover. After a soft buzz from the box, he hefted open the door.

“After you,” he said.

Inside, gray electrical panels surrounded us from floor to ceiling crowding us together. The warm air smelled of ozone and sintered metal. In the silence, I could hear buzzes and clicks behind the banks of breaker and relay boxes.

The Admiral carefully surveyed the panels as I watched then began counting from the rightmost panel three boxes to the left and up three from the floor. His finger landed on a panel shoulder high that mimicked the others even to the finger-hole opening latch. He pushed his finger through and pulled it open.

Rather than breaker switches inside, it had a single gray metal panel with a small speaker a numerical keypad and an optical sensor resembling a large bloodshot eyeball with a glowing red center. Suddenly I wanted to say, “Open the pod bay door, Hal” but resisted not knowing the Admiral’s familiarity with that movie.

“Look into the red scanner with your right eye,” he commanded reaching for the key panel.

I bent down and looked into the device expecting a bright flash or something more mysterious. Nothing happened until I felt his wrist graze my face punching numbers into the keypad.

“There,” he said, “Now back off and let me get there.”

He nudged me aside and stared into the sensor eye.

“Ivy, this is Admiral Sam Greenfield, ID number SSUSJG22Z. Register previous scan as authorized entry for Umbra.”

A sexy and slightly robotic female voice responded from the small speaker:

“As you wish, Admiral Greenfield. Please log voice recognition entry for the previous scan.”

During her response, I noticed the red eye began to dim and brighten with a slow rhythmic almost hypnotic motion. Then I noticed it was synchronized with my breathing. When I drew in air, it brightened then dimmed as I exhaled. Ivy was tracking my respiration activity.

I continued to stare in curious almost frightened amazement as the intricate login process continued not knowing what was yet to come.

“Stand here and say ‘Hello Ivy’ in your normal voice,” he said then moved me to the center of the panel and pressed a few more keys.

“Hello Ivy,” I said.

“Hello. Please state your full name with rank or civilian status,” she requested.

I looked questioningly at the Admiral and he nodded for me to continue.

“Matthew Marker Cross, civilian,” I said.

“Admiral Greenfield, what clearance level of Umbra access should I grant for Matthew Cross?”

He closed his eyes for a moment then responded, “Umbra Z.”

“Understood. Matthew Marker Cross civilian rank will now have Z-access privileges to the building and Sea Station Umbra. His assigned ID is SSU-MMC-37Z. Please claim his badge at the building’s main desk.”

“Thank you, Ivy,” he said then looked at me. “Got that Cross? Your project ID is SSUMMC37Z. Memorize it. Do not ever write it down. That ID or your voiceprint will allow you access to anything Umbra after I’m gone.”

I nodded my understanding wanting to ask questions but they could wait; I now had access to something unknown to me, an enigma in my orderly world. I could get in but into what?

Greenfield redirected his attention to the panel.

“Now unlock the passageway for two personnel: me and Mr. Cross.”

“The tunnel is now unlocked, Admiral Greenfield. Please watch your step. Ivy out.”

With that, he closed the ID panel turned to the next wall of breaker panels and pulled a small handle at the top. To my amazement, the entire wall pivoted out toward us like a door revealing a steep concrete stairwell into a poorly lighted space below.

“Down here,” he said. “Careful. There’s a handrail on your right.”