Deep Storm

At this, Crane at last pulled his eyes from the Marble and glanced at Spartan. The admiral wasn't smiling.

"What has happened, exactly?" Crane asked.

Spartan swept his hand across the wall of glass, down toward the hanger deck below. "Until now, the Drilling Complex has been unaffected by whatever is making our people sick. But over the last twelve hours, three people in the complex have fallen ill."

"What are the symptoms?"

"You can ask them yourself. There's an emergency medical station on deck four. We've activated it, and you can use that as a temporary infirmary. I'll have the workers report to you there."

"Why wasn't I told about these new cases?" Crane asked.

"You are being told about them. The workers are high security and, as such, aren't permitted access to the unclassified levels."

"I could use Dr. Bishop's help."

"She has limited access beyond the portal, on an emergency-only basis and accompanied by marines. We'll deal with that situation if and when it becomes of critical importance. Now, if I may continue. In addition to the cases I mentioned, I have noticed others in the Complex who are becoming…psychologically affected."

"Does Corbett know?"

"No, and he's not going to. Corbett is, shall we say, porous. Any expertise he can offer should be filtered through you." Spartan glanced at his watch. "I'll have a detail take you back to your quarters. Get some sleep. I want you back at nine hundred hours tomorrow, and I want you fresh."

Crane nodded slowly. "So that's it. You've given me access because the rot's setting in here, too."

Spartan's eyes narrowed. "You have a new job now, Doctor. It's not enough just to learn what's making people sick. You have to keep them healthy." And he gestured again toward the Marble and the technicians that surrounded it. "Because everything, and everyone, in this Facility is dispensable-except the drilling. That must continue at all costs. This work is of vital importance, and I will not allow anything or anyone to slow us down. I'll drive the Marble myself if I have to. Do I make myself clear?"

For a moment, the two men stared at each other. Then Crane gave a small nod.

"Crystal clear, sir," he said.

24

Crane lay back wearily in his bed. It was almost three in the morning, and the Facility was quiet. He could just make out the slippery, seductive sounds of a jazz clarinet filtering through the shared bathroom: Roger Corbett was a fan of Be

The day had been filled with more surprise and wonder than any other he could remember. And yet he was so weary that the moment he closed his eyes he felt sleep steal toward him. But he could not sleep, not quite yet. There was one thing he had to do first.

He reached toward the desk and retrieved a manila folder. Opening it, he pulled out a short document: the eyewitness account Asher had mentioned of the actual sea-burial event. Rubbing his eyes blearily, he glanced at the top page. It was a large photograph of a sheet of illuminated manuscript: tiny blackletter script offset by colorful-if disquieting-border illustrations and a lavish initial capital. The vellum was badly worn along two horizontal lines where the sheet had apparently been folded, and its edges were darkened with handling and long years. The text was in Latin, but thankfully Asher's researcher had supplied an English translation, which was appended to the photograph. Crane turned to the translation and began to read.

It was in the year of our lord 1397 that I, Jón Albarn, fisherman of Staafhörn, was made witness.

I had broken my arm most grievously at that time and was unable to sail my boat or ply my nets. Being on a day gone out to walk the cliffs, I at once noticed the heavens grow full bright, albeit the sky was cloud obscured. There came to my ears the sound of strange singing, as if of a multitude of voices, which made the very empyrean tremble.

I tarried not, but ran back forthwith to acquaint all the people of this revelation. But many folk of the village had heard with their own ears and seen with their own eyes and were making their way to the shingle beach. It being a Sunday, all the men of the village were at home with their families. And it was in but short order that the village was empty and all had gathered by the waters.

The heavens grew yet brighter still. There was a heaviness in the air that was passing strange, and many amongst us remarked at how the hair on our flesh grew light and stood on end.

All at once there came many bolts of lightning and thunderclaps. Then the clouds over the ocean came asunder, casting off rainbows and boiling mists as they did fall back. A hole appeared in the heavens. And through that hole shewed a giant Eye, wreathed in white flame. Pillars of light shone down from it, straight as any column, and the seas upon which the holy light fell grew most strangely calm.

All the people of the village were passing glad, for the Eye was of a great and wondrous beauty, bright beyond measure and girdled with dancing rainbows. And they all did talk of how the

Almighty God had come to Staafhörn to favor us with His grace and benediction. The menfolk of the town began to speak amongst themselves of how we should sail out to the wondrous light, to praise the Lord and receive His blessing. One or two amongst us said, nay, the distance is too great across the sea. But the Eye was of such surpassing beauty, and the encircling fire of such purity and whiteness, that soon all had taken to the boats, eager to touch the divine light with their own hands and contrive that it should fall upon them. Only I was left behind: the boats were filled with all the town, men, women, and children, and with my arm sadly broken I could not sail myself. And so I made my way up to the cliffs in order to better behold this miracle.

In minutes the boats were laid out across the sea, three dozen or more, and all within singing hymns of praise and thanksgiving. And all the time from the cliff head I too gave thanks, that of all the towns in the Kingdom of Denmark the Lord had graced Staafhörn with His favor. It seemed as if the line of sailboats was being carried forthwith across the water at marvellous speed, despite a sore lack of wind, and whereas I prayed I also felt a melancholy in my heart, at being the only soul left behind.

Some short time passed, and the boats were less than a league away from land, when the great Eye began to slowly descend from the heavens. The clouds that wreathed it were still all a-boil, and great curtains of mist hung around it, shot through with countless rainbows. But now the column of white light that fell from the Eye to the surface of the sea was wont to change. I beheld that it began to twist, and bend, as if a living thing. And the face of the sea upon which it fell began to change also. Calm no longer, it started to boil, as if consumed by a great furnace. The sounds of ethereal singing grew louder, and yet the sounds no longer bespoke of heavenly voices. They rose higher and higher until they became like unto the shriek of a hare in a trap, so overmastering I fell to my knees and stopped my ears.

From the head of the cliff I could see the boats hesitate in their forward course. One or two stopped, while others tried to turn back. But it was as if the sea now lay in a great anger. Waterspouts began to appear around the column of light, rippling out with unseemly haste, like unto when a boulder is dropped into a small pond. And as the vast Eye descended, the column of light beneath turned into a pillar of white fire, all consuming and terrible to behold.

Now the boats were in full retreat. But then came a great earthquake, and the clouds parted with a monstrous roar, and it seemed that in an instant all the stars of heaven fell into the sea. Fantastical flames rose up where each fell, and there came a great multitude of steam, billowing outward from the center and obscuring all the boats from view.