Chapter 3
Miguel Ortiz watched the shuttle MR-2 as it crashed into the sea floor. Without batting an eye he sent his closest WHISKERS after the shuttle as it slipped over into the trench. "Commander Ford, we have a shuttle down hard. It is descending into the trench, I have WHISKERS on it."
Ford strode over to Miguel's station, the security problem he had been discussing with Chief Crocker now forgotten. "Which shuttle? Do we have anyone nearby? How many people aboard?"
"MR-2 sir. Only three aboard, Ensign Fischer, Lucas, and Dr. Matthews from the DMD," Ortiz reported. "Shuttle MR-6 is closest to her, but she's fully loaded." His voice was unemotional. Professionalism saved people at times like these not emotion. Emotion would just slow things down.
"Mr. O'Neill do we have communications with MR-2?" Ford asked.
"No sir, she stopped broadcasting on any signal following the initial impact," O'Neil answered.
"Order MR-6 to hold their position, dispatch a medical team to the launch bay immediately, and get me Kreig," Ford commanded.
O'Neil nodded and adjusted his headset mid relay.
"Is the shuttle still falling, Mr. Ortiz? How close to crush depth are they?" Ford asked. His knuckles were white where he gripped the back of Ortiz's chair.
"They stopped falling approximately 10 seconds ago. They're still a good fifty meters from crush depth.. Sensor readings indicate she's taking on water relatively fast. But they should have a full compliment of eight rebreathers aboard," Miguel replied.
Krieg's face appeared on the main view screen. "Lieutenant Krieg, do you have a shuttle still in the hangar?" Ford asked.
"Yes sir, Shuttle MR-9 is still awaiting her pilot," Krieg answered concisely. He could feel the tension on the bridge.
"As of now, you're her pilot. A medical team is en-route. As soon as they arrive, I need you in the water. Mr. Ortiz will be directing you to shuttle MR-2. She's down hard in the trench and taking on water. Communications are down so we don't know the medical conditions of anyone on board. Shuttle MR-6 will be providing support but she's full to capacity so she can't carry out the rescue herself," Ford said.
Ben paled slightly. "Yes, sir."
Ford turned back to Ortiz. "Do we know why the shuttle went down?"
"No sir," Ortiz answered slowly. "But MR-2 reported some phenomenon that wasn't registering on sensors only moments before she went down. Ensign Fischer didn't get a chance to elaborate."
"You heard that, Ben. Proceed with caution. We don't know what caused this one," Ford continued. In the background the medical personnel were arriving. Ben nodded and cut the connection.
"Commander Ford, we have an incoming message from MR-6," O'Neil reported.
"On screen," Ford commanded. He proceeded down until he was center screen and a middle-aged woman's face appeared. The shuttle appeared stuffy and crowded in the background and the pilot was sweating through her uniform.
"Commander Ford, Chief Jensen reporting. We witnessed MR-2's crash and are holding position as ordered. Do you have any data on what caused the crash?" the young woman in the pilot's seat asked.
"No, Chief, our sensor data came up blind. Do you have anything to add?" Ford asked.
"No sir, nothing from our sensors. Should we proceed closer to the wreckage to further assist in the rescue and recovery?" Jensen asked, her eagerness to help showing the taunt set of her jaw and firm grip on the helm.
"You're fully loaded Chief. Stay back and provide support. We don't need anyone else in danger if at all possible. Ford out." Commander Ford turned to O'Neill again. "Order all seaQuest's shuttles home. Tell them to return all non-seaQuest personnel to either the DMD or the Savannah and return to dock immediately. There is an unknown threat out there and we aren't taking any chances." Ford paused and rubbed his hands together nervously. "Now get me Captain Bridger and Dr. Lewis on the horn, preferably in that order," Ford requested.
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Katie Hitchcock docked her shuttle smoothly at the DMD. Shuttle duty was boring but all the qualified pilots were running a least a partial shift. She just wanted to get hers over with early. Katie rose to cycle open the hatch when the comm light started flashing. "Hitchcock here," she said as the image of Commander Ford solidified on her screen. Commander Ford stared back at her and he looked, if anything gray. Something was wrong.
"Has the Captain disembarked yet?" He began without preamble.
"No sir, we just docked. Hold for a moment please," Katie answered. She turned and walked to the Captain. "I have Commander Ford for you sir." Bridger frowned at Westphalen and headed for the front of the shuttle.
He took the pilot's seat and addressed Ford, "What's the emergency, Commander?"
Ford paused and took a deep breath. "One of our shuttles crashed into the trench. A rescue team has been dispatched and should be arriving within seven minutes. Because we don't know what caused the wreck and it didn't appear to be mechanical failure, or pilot error, O'Neill is in the process of recalling all seaQuest's shuttles."
"Which shuttle went down? Who was aboard? Are communications to the downed shuttle up?" Bridger asked in rapid succession.
"MR-2 went down, with Ensign Fischer, Dr. Matthews, and Lucas aboard. Communications are gone and the shuttle is completely flooded at this point according to Mr. Ortiz's WHISKERS."
Bridger nodded slowly. His first instinct was to take the shuttle and go after them himself. But logically he knew Ford had played the accident by the book. There would be a rescue shuttle and a support shuttle. But the trench? "Is this going to be a text-book rescue? Or are we dealing with complications from the trench at all?" Bridger asked.
"Mr. Ortiz is providing Lieutenant Kreig with detailed instructions and there haven't been any complications yet. The rescue team is close enough now that even if the trench becomes too narrow, a rescue is feasible," Ford reported.
"Good," Bridger said. He shut his eyes and nodded again. "Thank you Commander." He closed the connection. Bridger didn't give the command to return to seaQuest right away, because he realized that he couldn't trust his voice. He was afraid. And fear was dangerous. You lost judgement, focus. Bridger pushed the fear and doubt and guilt that threatened to overwhelm him back and refused to feel them and when he open his eyes they were clear. But his pale face and determined frown bellied his resolve not feel anything. "Hitchcock, get us back to seaQuest ASAP," Bridger ordered, vacating the pilot's seat. He ousted the co-pilot with a terse command and half-turned to address the occupants of the shuttle. "Ladies and gentlemen this trip just became round trip. A shuttle is down and we will be returning to seaQuest until the situation has been properly evaluated," Bridger said. He didn't give anyone a chance to ask questions he didn't have an answer for. Instead he plowed ahead. "After all personnel have returned to seaQuest there will be a formal announcement as to the particulars of this incident." Bridger turned around in his seat and fastened his safety-belt. He nodded to Hitchcock and they disembarked.
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Ben coaxed his shuttle over the edge of the trench. And proceeded slowly in the directions Ortiz indicated in his headset. Krieg wasn't a bad pilot, but he wasn't the best either, and this kind of close work was dangerous to say the least. Not for the first time that day, he wished for the hundreds of hours pilots like his ex-wife, Katie, had logged in training. I can do this he told himself. He had to do it. Lucas, his friend, was counting on him. Finally, the forward lights illuminated the back end of shuttle MR-2 and Ben sighed in relief. Now all he had to do was wait for the divers to collect survivors. A temporary docking was useless because the shuttle was already flooded. All Ben could do now was wait. And listen.
Ensign Debbie Butler, an RN, and Chief Doug Howard were being sent in to retrieve survivors. Their modified diving suits allowed them to speak freely. All they needed was his go-ahead and the air lock would begin to cycle. After they left, two more divers would await their turn in the airlock just in case. "All right fellows. That's as close as I can get. Good Luck," Ben said.
"Thank you Lieutenant," Ensign Butler answered. She gave Chief Howard a thumbs up which he reciprocated and she mashed the red button to cycle the lock. Debbie could barely contain her fear as the chilling greenish water filled the chamber. This was the moment she had been dreading for two years. The UEO scholarship that put her through school was only supposed to cost her a five year tour of duty. She wasn't supposed to be performing emergency rescues miles under the ocean. She wasn't supposed to be responsible for three people's lives. The outer hatch cycled open and she let Chief Howard lead the way.
They swam forward to the damaged shuttle and worked their way to the bow. "Do you see that?" Howard gasped. Most of the front of the shuttle had been sheared away.
Debbie swallowed the bile that threatened to rise in her throat. Something very bad had happened here. "I do, Chief," Butler answered. "The entire pilot's seat and half the control board are gone? What could have caused it?"
"It couldn't have been the impact or the drop down the ravine. Ortiz reported on the flooding while we came out here. He said it was gradual. Besides those edges are to precise, something cut that intentionally." Chief Howard placed his hand against the shuttle wall and preceded Ensign Butler into the shuttle. "The structure is not positioned stably. Try to keep your motions slow and delicate. Two of us should not swim at once. One should wait at the entrance while the other scouts the shuttle." He looked at Ensign Butler expectantly.
It took her a second to respond. The Chief was an engineer but she was the team leader. Their next move had to be her call. She could end the mission then and there, an unstable shuttle wreck was dangerous. It was so silent and dark, nothing could be alive? Their hand-held lights' glow wasn't sufficient to banish the shadows from the shuttle, the tomb. Three lives... her responsibility... "No problem, Chief," Ensign Butler replied. "I have the starboard side. Wait here." There was no motion... nothing. A tomb.
Finally, after Ensign Butler made it all the way aft, Ensign Fischer proved her at least partially, wrong. At least one person was alive. "I have Ensign Fischer!" Butler said. She lifted his head and he struggled weakly against her. "He's alive, but pretty banged up. I'm coming out with him."
"Yes, ma'am," Chief Howard said. "Can you handle him?"
Ensign Butler had immobilized Fischer's neck and her tow rope was attacked across his chest. She wrapped her left arm under his right arm and behind his back. "I have him." She swam slowly, careful not to jog the shuttle unnecessarily. Fischer jerked unexpectedly and she dropped her light. It drifted to rest behind a seat. "Damn," Butler muttered.
"Do you need help? What's happening?" Chief Howard asked. He shone his light into Ensign Butler's eyes temporarily blinding her. He quickly averted the light. "Sorry, Ma'am."
"It's okay, I just dropped my light," Butler answered. She pulled herself down next to the seat her light was glowing under and groped for the cylinder. As her world slowly returned to focus, Debbie froze. The light was resting near a still form, illuminating the passive face of Dr. Matthews. The doctor's face was unencumbered by a rebreather and Debbie drew a ragged breath. "I have Dr. Matthews too. She's dead." Finally, Debbie managed to get a hand on her light. Before she could withdraw, a cold hand gripped hers. She looked up at Aspen's face, a living face, the woman's eyes were open and her mouth was moving silently. Debbie abandoned her light and swam hard for Chief Howard. "Take the tow cord! Fischer is on the other end of it. I have an emergency here. Dr. Matthews is not dead, but she will soon be if we don't move fast." Years of training took over and Debbie forgot to be scared. She just did her job.
"Got him!" Chief Howard called. "The shuttle is trembling Ensign Butler. You should evacuate. It can't hold much longer," Chief Howard shouted nervously. An eerie blue glow surrounded the wreckage and he began swimming back. "Get out of there, Ma'am."
Debbie never got the chance to look back. With a shriek, steel buckled, and the shuttle collapsed into a jagged ball. It floated suspended for several seconds, until the last of the blue energy faded. A true tomb now, it tumbled gracelessly into the blackness of the trench.
Chief Howard tried to breathe but he couldn't seem to make the air fill his lungs fast enough. He still gripped the tow rope with Ensign Fischer trailing "They're gone... God... What was that?"
"Chief?! Get yourself back to the airlock," Ben commanded. He was having his own trouble breathing but he knew he had to get the diver and his patient to safety. It didn't occur to him that his shuttle wouldn't hold up any better against that kind of attack than shuttle MR-2 had fared.
The shout seemed to wake Howard up. "I'm sorry sir. I'm on my way."
"It's okay," Ben said more calmly. He switched channels.
"Shuttle MR-9, were your people clear when the shuttle went," Ford asked.
"No sir, we lost Ensign Butler. They barely had time to clear Ensign Fischer from the shuttle before it went," Ben answered. His voice was detached, shocked. "The sensors didn't register anything. There was a blue light and... Sir did WHISKERS pick anything up? The shuttle's sensors didn't register anything, aside from a slight increase in temperature." Ben took a deep breath. "How should we proceed with the rescue?"
"Get your people on-board Lieutenant, and get yourself out of there. Mr. Ortiz will guide you out. We can't risk anyone else..." Ford began.
"But sir, Lucas and Debbie and Dr. Matthews, we can't just abandon them," Ben countered.
"It's more important to save the living now," Ford said quietly. Ben didn't answer... didn't move. "That's an order, Ben. The shuttle disintegrated into a thousand pieces. The odds that anyone survived, are non-existent."
"Yes sir," Ben finally answered. A tear traced Ben's cheek and he shut off the connection. This was not how it was supposed to end. Fifteen-year-Olds did not drown while half the Navy watched. "I'm sorry, Lucas."
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Captain Bridger cut his way through the crowd at the launch bay and made for the mag lift. Dr. Westphalen was not far behind him. The crew cleared away from him and allowed him into the next lift without a murmur. Kristen followed him. The dark frown on her face stopped anyone from even considering joining them.
"Nathan, would you please tell me what happened?" Kristen didn't like to admit it but he had her scared. A shuttle went down, she knew. Fifteen men and women could be dead. And he hadn't told her anything. Not a word after his general announcement on the shuttle.
Nathan nodded. "I'm sorry about keeping you out of the loop this long, but I didn't want to discuss it with the entire shuttle. I didn't want to make any statements to the general crew until I knew something."
Kristen stopped him and frowned. "I understand, Nathan. Tell me what happened?"
"Shuttle MR-2 crashed, into the trench, with Lucas, Dr. Matthews, and Ensign Fischer aboard," he said. His voice was strained but level. "And the rescue crew should have arrived at the wreckage several minutes ago," Bridger added.
Kristen shut her eyes and drew in a long breath. Her instinct was to demand more information but it was obvious that Nathan didn't know anything else. Instead, she tried to find the right thing to say, to offer comfort. But there wasn't anything. A ship's Captain was responsible for his crew. And for Nathan that always went double for Lucas, his friend, a child. There was no sense in counseling against fear and worry when you couldn't stop yourself from feeling both. Kristen took one of Nathan's hands in her own and squeezed it in silent support.
Nathan accept the gesture without a sign. The mag-lift came to a gentle stop and Bridger and Westphalen were on the bridge only moments later. "Captain on the Bridge," Crocker announced to the silent assemblage. The formality seemed appropriate to the somber moment. Bridger nodded perfunctorily and approached Commander Ford.
"I want a full report, Commander," Bridger said. He unbuttoned the top button on his dress whites and waited for Ford to bring him up to speed.
"Yes, sir," He began. "The rescue mission is clear of the trench. They should be back here momentarily. We think that whatever wrecked the shuttle initially, struck again. Eyewitness reported a blue light. Sensors didn't register anything, except for a minor thermal increase around the wreckage." Ford paused and turned to Miguel. "I think the visual record shows what happened quite well. The main vid-screen came to life with a stored replay of the destruction of the shuttle. Everyone watched in silence as the unbelievable crushing of the shuttle replayed. "Dr. Matthews and Lucas were still aboard, as was one of the rescue team leaders, Ensign Debbie Butler." Bridger didn't say anything. He didn't move from his determined stance. And Ford said the one thing that threatened to break his iron facade. "All parties aboard are presumed dead."
Bridger nodded and turned to meet Ford's eyes. "Then we begin our investigation immediately. Whatever caused this, has killed three people. If I have anything to do with it, it won't kill any more."