The skipper called Tony to the bridge, sounding more urgent than usual. Tony double-timed it up the stairs from the power plant. He knew from his navy days when the skipper’s voice meant serious business.
He walked into the bridge only a few moments later. “What’s up, Skipper?” he asked, using a towel around his neck to wipe the sweat off his shaved head.
Jim sat back and pointed to his computer screen. “The MC keeps flashing the alert to increase internal pressure. All the calculations and scenarios that were run on this design assumed the surrounding water would be around thirty-four degrees. The readings at bridge level nearest the smoker vent are over a hundred and sixty. Even at the lab level, they’re seventy.”
Tony nodded as he absorbed what the captain was telling him. “Increased localized temperature, uneven expansion of the hull, increased pressure . . . Any stress alerts from the MC?”
“No, it’s strictly a safeguard. MC says to go to over one atmosphere.”
Tony thought about that. One atmosphere was the same as diving down to thirty-three feet. A scuba diver could stay at that depth for a very long time without any issues. But a year? “So what are ya gonna do?” he asked.
“I already told the MC to take us to point nine bars. We’ll see if that’s enough. We’ve had zero issues—no pressure seals blowing, nothing like that. Just the sensors issuing precautions.”
“Well, at four miles below the surface, I think cautious is probably a good idea,” said Tony, faking a smile. He shook his head.
“What?” asked the skipper as he watched Tony’s reaction.
“What are the odds? I mean, that was the joke, right? ‘Odds are.’ The whole ODS-R thing. What are the odds that we land in a spot that’s supposed to be an abyssal plain and it ends up being on a fuckin’ black smoker.”
Jim motioned for Tony to sit next to him. He leaned forward once Tony was seated and spoke barely above a whisper. “I don’t think this was some bizarre million-to-one shot, Tony. The sonar readings we used to map the seafloor were only six months old. I spoke to Theresa about the deep-sea tube worms they found. Based on their size, they had to be three years old. They didn’t just suddenly appear out of nowhere.”
Tony’s brow showed his confusion.
“We’re here on purpose. Only three people on this ship are familiar enough to change our landing site, and two of them are sitting here.”
“Ted?”
“Yup.”
“Why the hell would he put us right on top of a thermal vent? He could have killed us.”
“No—Ted knows this ship’s tolerances and capabilities. He was with the NASA design teams every step of the way. He wasn’t trying to kill us—but you can bet your ass he wanted the alien environment of the smoker. In his mind, it makes this mission as much about a space voyage as it does about an undersea voyage.”
Tony made a sour face. “I checked our location on the MC. It says we landed exactly where we were supposed to.”
“Yeah, I know. I checked it also. But I still don’t believe it. I think Ted changed everything in the navigation software.”
Tony wiped his face with the towel again. “So what do we do?”
“For now, nothing. We just keep an eye on him, that’s all. Don’t say a word to anyone.”
The sound of footsteps made them sit up and stop talking. Jessica walked in and saw their expressions. “Am I interrupting?” she asked.
“No,” responded the skipper. “Actually, I’m glad you’re here. We’ve had to increase internal pressure slightly. I’ll need you to run some tables and check the crew.”
“Define slightly,” she replied, looking very concerned.
“Under one bar. Maybe thirty feet.”
She nodded and rubbed her chin. “If it stays under thirty feet, it shouldn’t be a problem, but you’re getting close to changing the entire picture down here.”
“I know,” said the commander. “The MC will adjust the gas mix automatically. We’ll be fine. I just want you to be aware of it. If anyone has any narcosis issues, I need to know immediately. The trip up will end up being weeks instead of days to depressurize safely.”
“And if you increase to over a bar, the mission down here gets shortened. Jesus. What happened? We have a leak or something?” she asked, still looking concerned.
“No, no—nothing like that. The MC is just being supercautious. The temperature down here is much higher than anticipated. It increased the pressure. We’re fine. Just a precaution.”
“So we increase internal pressure to offset the outer pressure?”
“Exactly. You just need to check everyone for nitrogen buildup, that’s all. I don’t want to scrub this mission, but crew safety comes first.”
She looked at Tony. “You’ve been my baseline guinea pig. I’ll start with you tomorrow.” She broke eye contact quickly, feeling as if Jim could read her attraction to Tony. She told the skipper she’d run some dive tables and get back to him, walking out quickly.
The two of them watched her leave, enjoying the wiggle in her walk. “Attractive woman,” said Jim to Tony, perhaps looking for a reaction.
“After a year down here, you might start looking pretty good.”
“Jesus, you’re narced out already,” said the skipper. He dropped the topic and began running diagnostics with Tony.
“My ears just popped,” said Tony.
“Guess the secret is out,” said the skipper. “I’m sure the crew will be asking soon enough...”