Abduction

“We lost buoyancy,” Suza

“We suddenly got heavier or the water got lighter,” Donald said as he sca

“What does that mean?” Perry demanded.

“Since we obviously didn’t get heavier, the water indeed got lighter,” Donald said. He pointed to the temperature gauge. “We passed through the temperature gradient we suspected, and it was a lot more than we bargained for-in the opposite direction. The outside temperature rose almost a hundred degrees Fahrenheit!”

“Let’s get the hell out of here!” Perry cried.

“We’re on our way,” Donald said tersely. He snapped the UQC mike from its housing and tried to raise the Benthic Explorer. When he had no luck, he returned the mike to its cradle. “Sound waves don’t come in here and they don’t go out either.”

“What is this, some sort of sonar black hole?” Perry asked irritably.

“The echo sounder is giving us a reading now,” Suza

“Now why would that be malfunctioning?” Donald asked himself. He gave the instrument an even harder rap with his knuckles. The digital readout stayed at 30,418.

“Let’s forget the echo sounder,” Perry said. “Can’t we get out of here faster?” The Oceanus was rising, but very slowly.

“I’ve never had trouble with this echo sounder before,” Donald said.

“Maybe this pit could have been some kind of magma pipe,” Suza

“Could we at least turn off the music?” Perry said. It was reaching a crescendo that only added to his anxiety.

“Well, I’ll be damned!” Suza

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to pull rank here,” Perry snapped with uncamouflaged exasperation. He’d had it with being ignored. “I want to be taken up to the surface, pronto!”

Suza

The rattling lasted for almost a minute. No one spoke although an involuntary squeak escaped from Perry’s lips as the blood drained from his face.

“What on earth was that?” Donald demanded. He rapidly sca

“I’m not sure,” Suza

“An earthquake!” Perry blurted.

“Maybe this old volcano is awakening,” Suza

“Uh-oh!” Donald said. “Something is wrong!”

“What’s the problem?” Suza

“The echo sounder!” Donald said with uncharacteristic urgency.

Suza

“What’s happening?” she asked. “Do you think lava is rising in the shaft?”

“No!” Donald cried. “It’s us. We’re sinking, and I’ve jettisoned all the descent weights. We’ve lost our buoyancy!”

“But the pressure gauge!” Suza

“It mustn’t be working,” Donald said frantically. “There’s no doubt we’re sinking. Just look out the damn view port!”

Suza

“I’m blowing the ballast tanks,” Donald barked. “At this depth there won’t be much effect, but there’s no choice.”

The sound of compressed air being released drowned out Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring but only for twenty seconds. At such a pressure the compressed air tanks were quickly exhausted. The descent was not affected.

“Do something!” Perry yelled when he could find his voice.

“I can’t,” Donald yelled. “There’s no response to the controls. There’s nothing left to try.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Mark Davidson was dying for a cigarette. His addiction was absolute, although he found giving them up was easy since he did it once a week. His craving was maximum when he was relaxing, working, or anxious, and at the moment, he was very anxious indeed. For him, deep diving operations were always a walk on the wild side; from experience he knew how quickly things could go horribly wrong.

He looked up at the large institutional clock on the wall of the diving van, with its monstrous sweep second hand. Its intimidating presence made the passage of time hard to disregard. It had now been twelve minutes since there had been any contact with the Oceanus. Although Donald had specifically warned that there might be a short communication break, this seemed longer than reasonable, especially since the submersible had not responded to Larry Nelson’s last message. That was when Larry had tried to tell them that the divers were passing through five hundred feet.

Mark’s eyes darted down to the pack of Marlboros he’d casually tossed onto the diving van’s countertop. It was an agony not to reach over, take one out, and light up. Unfortunately, there was a newly instituted prohibition about smoking in the ship’s common areas, and Captain Jameson was a stickler about rules and regulations.

With some difficulty Mark pulled his eyes away from the cigarettes and sca

Across from the watch standers was the winch operator. He was perched on a high stool in front of the window looking out on the central well. His hand rested on the gear shift for the winch. Outside, the cable attached to the shackle on top of the diving bell was being played out at the maximum permitted velocity. From a neighboring drum came a second, passive cable that contained the compressed gas line, hot water hose, and communications wires.

At the far end of the van was Captain Jameson, absently sucking on a toothpick. In front of him were the controls that formed an extension of the bridge. Even though the ship’s propellers and thrusters were being controlled by computer to keep it stationary over the well head, Captain Jameson could override the system if the need arose during diving operations.

“God damn it!” Mark spat. He slammed a pencil he’d been unconsciously torturing to the countertop and stood up. “What’s the divers’ depth?”

“Passing through six hundred ten feet, sir,” the winch operator reported.

“Try the Oceanus again!” Mark barked to Larry. He started to pace back and forth. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, and it was getting worse. He began to lambaste himself for encouraging Perry Bergman to go on the dive. Being personally aware of Dr. Newell’s interest in the seamount and her desire to make purely exploratory dives, he worried that she might try to impress the president to get her way. That might mean she’d pressure Donald to do things he might not normally do, and Mark was aware that Dr. Newell was the only person on the ship who potentially had that kind of influence over the normally strictly-by-the-book ex-naval line officer.