THIRTY-EIGHT

Sickbay

 

The next morning, Jessica had Jim assemble several puzzles that he had done three days prior as a control group. He was twenty-five percent slower.

“You sleeping any better?” she asked him.

“Not really. Still having nightmares about Ian. I keep seeing that face begging for help.”

“Jim, your nitrogen levels are increasing the same as everyone else’s, but I think it’s affecting you more than the rest of the crew. It happens. You need to decrease the internal pressure of the ship.”

“We can’t do that yet. The MC recognized a bulge in the hull. The temperature gradient from the smoker added a lot of stress. We need to be cautious.”

“Then you need to officially pick a second in command in the event you become unable to perform your duties. As it stands now, Ted would be your replacement. You comfortable with that?” She knew the answer already from her conversations with Tony, but only Jim could appoint his successor if it wasn’t to be Ted.

Jim made a face. He hadn’t shared his suspicions of Ted with anyone other than Tony, and he didn’t want to tell Jessica. “I’m fine, Jess. Just tired and stressed. If it gets worse, I’ll think about a replacement. Right now, my judgment is sound . . .”

“Commander, with all due respect, if it wasn’t, do you really think you’d recognize it?”

Jim stood up. “I’ll come back every other day for your tests, and if I feel like I am getting narced, I’ll stop by immediately. In the meantime, I have a ship to run.” He walked out of the sickbay.

Jess called up to Tony on the bridge and relayed the conversation. Tony listened to her concerns, but when he heard Jim approaching, he hung up. Tony spent the next few minutes intentionally speaking about complicated information in the power plant and desalinization systems to see if Jim could understand everything he was saying. The skipper was fine. Maybe Jess was just being paranoid. Hell, they were all getting paranoid. Life at twenty thousand feet under the surface was bound to make folks a little uneasy.

After spending a few hours on the bridge, Jim excused himself. He wanted to speak with Ted, who he hadn’t seen all day. The skipper called the lab and the galley but couldn’t locate him, so he walked to his room. He knocked on the door before he entered to find Ted passed out on his bed.

“Hey—you okay?” asked Jim.

Ted opened his eyes and then checked his watch, which was set on their standardized time zone. “Oh, sorry, Commander. I guess I overslept.” He sat up and rubbed his face.

“You feel okay?” repeated Jim.

“Yeah, I’m good. I was up late doing research. Guess I was tired.”

“I need to speak to you about something.”

“Sure. What’s up?” Ted stood up and stretched his back.

“Ted, on paper, you are the assumed second in command . . .” Ted eyed the commander warily. Jim continued. “Listen, no offense, but if I were to have narcosis issues or something and be relieved for any reason, I am going to name Jessica acting commander. It’ll be her call if she thinks the mission becomes too unsafe because of crew medical conditions. She will, of course, confer with you and Tony before pulling the plug.”

“Commander, this is highly unusual,” Ted responded. “I helped design this vessel and create the mission! I worked directly under Admiral Antus for this mission! Am I being formally charged with something? Why am I being passed over?”

“Relax, Ted. You aren’t being charged with anything. I don’t have a problem with you. I just think that given the situation of the increased internal pressure and possible narcosis issues, the medical officer is in the best position to assess the situation if we have a problem that renders the commander—me—incapable of performing my duties. It’s all theoretical anyway, Ted. I’m fine. This is just being cautious.”

“And humiliating me in front of the crew! I’m the second in command aboard this vessel. This is inexcusable! It isn’t a popularity contest, Commander. I’m sure the crew was all smiling very happily when you told them the news.”

“I haven’t told anyone yet, Ted. I was giving you this courtesy. And that’s all it is—a courtesy.”

Jim turned and walked out, leaving Ted livid in his room. His brain started working in high gear. It wasn’t official yet. He hadn’t told anyone. Right now, if anything happened to Jim, Ted was still in command. He rummaged through his gear until he came across the vial that contained the strains of bacterium he had taken from NASA—the same ones he had used on Ian.

 

**********

 

Jim was in the bridge with Tony when Ted entered with two mugs of coffee.

“Tony, would you mind if I spoke to the commander in private?” Tony looked at Jim, shrugged, and stood up. He excused himself and headed for sickbay to pay a visit to Jessica.

Ted walked over and sat next to Jim, placing the coffee in front of him. “Peace offering,” he said quietly. Jim nodded politely. “Look, Skipper, you caught me half-asleep before. I just want to know what’s up. What have I done to cause you to lose confidence in me?”

Ted sipped his coffee and absentmindedly said, “God, that’s good.”

Jim picked up the other mug and spoke softly. “Look, Ted. I don’t want to get into a bunch of bullshit over this, but since you brought it up again, answer me this. How is it we ended up on a black smoker when we’re supposed to be on the abyssal plain? This area was carefully mapped a few months before the mission, and it wasn’t here.”

“Smokers and vents open up all the time down here.”

“Theresa estimates the age of the tube worms to be at least three years old, Ted. This was here when the area was mapped.”

“So maybe the sonar missed it,” said Ted, again sipping his coffee in front of Jim.

“Bullshit. Wanna know what I think? I think somebody wanted to be on top of a black smoker for their own research agenda, even if it endangered the crew and the mission—that’s what I think.”

Ted took another drink of his coffee, then breathed in its aroma.

Jim continued, now a bit more ramped up. “Only three people could have changed our coordinates, Ted. You, Tony, and myself. Only you have a reason to want to be on the smoker.”

“Commander, I came up here to make peace. I’m offended by your accusation. We double- and triple-checked the coordinates against the MC. We are exactly where we are supposed to be.”

“We are exactly where the coordinates say we are because someone changed the coordinates,” said Jim. “You changed them, Ted. I understand how important the bacteria is to your experiments—I do. But you have endangered this entire vessel and our mission. The Challenger wasn’t built to sit next to a seven hundred–degree vent while immersed in thirty-four-degree water.” Jim shook his head and took a big drink of the coffee.

Ted hid his smile with his own mug before speaking. “Commander, I helped design this vessel. We are structurally sound. Even the increase in pressure is an unnecessary precaution. The hull can take this and a lot more. Hell, you think it was any easier on the hull when I was reentering the Earth’s atmosphere?”

“You also had a heat shield, Ted. Admit it. You changed the landing site, didn’t you?”

“I did nothing of the sort. And while yes, the shuttle has a heat shield, the metals used on this craft are much heavier and stronger. Weight wasn’t a factor for this vessel. It’s way overbuilt. We could go to two thousand degrees and we’d still be fine.”

“If anything happens to me, command goes to Jessica, and then to Tony. Hell, and then to Theresa and Mike before it goes to you. You’re dismissed.”

Ted stood up and took a long drink of his coffee. “Well, as you said, it’s all a precaution anyway. You’re still in command.”