Soft lights came on all over the ship as the Challenger neared the landing site. Tony and Jessica were on the bridge, having spent several hours in enjoyable conversation, but now turned back to professional mode. Tony called down to the captain’s quarters.
“Good morning, Skipper. We are approximately forty minutes away from initiating the landing sequence. Shall I slow descent, or are you good with that timetable?”
A groggy voice answered back. “Continue on course. Forty minutes is plenty of time as long as the coffee machine is on. I’ll be right up.”
“I saw the manifest once before we left. The amount of coffee seemed ridiculous for seven people. Now I’m hoping we have enough,” said Tony.
Jessica smiled, thinking back to her days aboard the submarines. The subs made their own water from seawater, and the coffee was always great because of the purified water. And when the sub’s air had grown dank and stuffy, nothing was more welcomed than the smell of coffee brewing. The galley was located below the bridge, on Deck Four, and Jessica stood up, now wanting her own cup of java.
“You talked me into it. I’m getting one for me and the skipper. You want one, too?”
“Sure,” said Tony, watching her butt as she walked out of the bridge. Ted walked in as she was walking out.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he said stoically to Tony.
Tony shrugged innocently, and then pulled up their coordinates on the screen.
“What are you doing?” asked Ted.
“We’re close to starting the landing sequence. Just getting ready to check the bottom surface before we deploy the legs. We only get one shot at landing, know what I mean?”
Ted looked uncomfortable. “The MC can handle it. Flip the screen to the diagnostics test. Let’s check the pressure and atmosphere.”
Tony made a face. “Diagnostics? Now? I’ve been running that shit all night. It’s show time, baby. Let’s see where we’re going.” He tapped away at his keyboard and a screen lit up showing a green sonar image of the seafloor. It was a three-dimensional rendering that the sonar computers had created after taking hundreds of readings of their destination. Based on extensive seafloor mapping that had been done prior to their expedition, their chosen location was a flat bit of sand and rock bottom. Expecting to see a planar surface, Tony’s hair stood up when he saw what looked like a lunar landscape below them.
“We got a problem,” he said quietly. He punched a button and called the skipper’s cabin, but got no answer.
“I’m sure he’s on the way up. What is it?” asked Ted.
“See for yourself,” said Tony, transferring the image on his screen to the larger overhead monitor in the bridge. The plasma screen showed the same mountainous terrain that Tony was viewing on his own screen.
Ted tightened his smile. “This doesn’t look like the abyssal plain.”
“Hell no! We got issues.” He punched in some keys and the voice of the MC computer spoke to the bridge.
The calm female voice greeted him. “How may I be of assistance?”
“Check coordinates of landing site immediately,” said Tony.
“Checking coordinates of landing site. 11"25' north latitude; 142"17' east longitude. This is correct. Landing sequence initiates in twelve minutes. Telescopic legs are functioning correctly.”
“Bullshit,” said Tony, who began typing feverishly.
“Relax, Tony. The skipper will be up in a minute.”
“You relax! This tub doesn’t exactly turn on a dime. We’re gonna end up landing on a fuckin’ mountain.”
“The legs will compensate automatically for any differential in terrain. There’s nothing to worry about,” replied Ted.
“Yeah? And what if we miss the mark and end up dropping into the trench? We’re scheduled for twenty thousand feet—not thirty-six! This ball might collapse before we could start the surfacing sequence.”
“We could sit on the bottom for a year just fine. The crush depth of this ship exceeds the trench.”
“In theory!”
“In fact. Relax. The MC has it all under control.”
Tony hit the all-call button. “Skipper, you’re needed on the bridge immediately.”
Ted sat in an empty chair at the bridge console and waited for the skipper to walk in. Commander Lewis walked in with Jessica in tow, he with a coffee in hand, Jessica with two.
“What’s up, Tony?” He spied the large monitor. “Holy crud. That’s our current location?”
“Yes, sir. That’s why I called you. We’re supposed to be on the abyssal plain. What the hell is that?”
Jim looked at Ted. “You double-check the landing coordinates?”
“Tony just did. This is where we’re supposed to be. The mapping must have been inaccurate. It shouldn’t be a problem, though. The telescopic legs will level us out.”
“Tony—zoom in on the exact landing location. Bring it up to max power,” said Jim.
“Aye-aye, Captain. Zooming now.”
A moment later, the screen shot zoomed up to show a small, flat surface on the side of what looked like a conical formation. They all studied it in silence for a moment, but the MC interrupted them.
“Telescopic legs are prepared to deploy. Landing site is locked in sonar guidance system. Anticipate landfall in seven minutes.”
Jim crossed his arms. Tony and Jessica both glanced at his face, looking for a show of concern. Ted sat quietly and said nothing. The three fish geeks entered the bridge together.
“We landing soon?” asked Ian in his Scottish brogue. Everyone turned to his voice. “Sorry—we walk in at a bad time?”
The captain pointed to the screen. “An interesting time. That’s our abyssal plain.”
“Hell it is,” he said quietly. “It’s a black smoker.”
“Shit,” said Theresa behind him.
Jim walked quickly to his seat at the bridge console and hit a button for the MC. Before the voice could even begin to ask how it could help, he blurted, “Is this landing location safe?”
“Landing sequence is initiated. Telescopic legs are functioning properly. Sonar . . .”
“Is it safe? Can you land us at this location without a problem?” asked Jim, his voice sounding tense.
“If we’re gonna abort, we need to do it now before the legs come out!” exclaimed Tony.
“Landing location is safe. Surface is one thousand four hundred thirteen square feet. Beginning telescopic deployment at your command,” said the MC.
“Better check the water temperature,” said Ian quietly to the captain.
Jim nodded. Tony was typing before Jim could move. Tony blurted out, “Seventy degrees and rising.”
“Gonna get hotter before it gets colder,” replied Ian.
“How the hell did we end up on the slope of a friggin’ volcano?” asked Jim to no one in particular.
“Deployment sequence must be initiated,” said the MC.
Jim made a face. “Deploy telescopic legs,” he said, sounding angry.
“You gonna put us on a black smoker?” asked Ian.
“We’ll be fine. We’re not in the vent,” replied the captain.
“One hundred degrees and rising,” said Tony.
“We’re okay,” Jim said again, this time reassuring only himself.
Tony punched a few keys and computer images lit up around the bridge showing the exterior of the ship. The large legs began extending, the ship looking like a giant metal crab preparing to land after a swim.
Ian spoke to the captain. “Can you turn the cameras until you find the vent?”
“Tony?” asked the skipper. “Can you?”
Tony began typing at hyperspeed, the cameras moving as they tried to find the mouth of the black smoker. It was empty black sea outside, with only an occasional glimpse of some strange, otherworldly creature gliding by the camera. One of the cameras honed in on a plume of gushing black volcanic chemicals spewing out of the top of the mountain they were about to land on.
“There!” shouted Ian. “Zoom in on that!”
Tony brought the image up closer and they all stood in silence watching a black chemical stew of poisonous gas and liquids blow out of the mountaintop like a volcano.
“Jesus,” said Jessica quietly.
“Outside temperature one hundred and two degrees.”
“Jacuzzi,” said Mike.
“Or soup,” responded Tony.
The MC voice filled the room again. “Bottom contact.”
The crew members each grabbed something to hang on to, although the landing was so slow and gentle they could hardly feel it. At first, the floor seemed to angle sharply, but the legs were designed to compensate and right themselves to level. Within a few seconds, the ship was perfectly level and still, 21,354 feet below the waves.