Click here for Part 2
By the end of the
second day at sea, Miguel had memorized the layout of The Barrier Bess like he knew his own home. From bow to stern it measured just over 74 meters. The front of
the upper deck was mostly open space, with several chests and lockers for
various supplies and life-vests, as well as an access door to the anchor
housing on the second level. About one-third of the length astern from the bow
stood the wheelhouse, where Captain Barton spent nearly all her time. Atop this
was the bulbous weather radar equipment, as well as various dishes and devices
for position tracking and communication. Just aft of the wheelhouse was the
main research room, where the various surveying, analysis, and testing
equipment was held. All of the tools that the team brought from the states was
in here too, and they all had been given a quick overview of the built-in
equipment when they first came onboard. Aft of that was the smoke stack that
bellowed out the noxious fumes coming from the engines.
The lower deck housed the sleeping quarters and
washrooms towards the bow. There were four rooms overall; Miguel bunked with
Alex and Dr. McMullin on the starboard side, while Corwin and Steven shared the
smaller room aft of theirs. The ladies’ quarters were on the port side, with
Dr. Singh and Millie rooming together while Captain Barton had her own space. Aft
of the living quarters were the galley and food storage lockers. Because of its
position just above the engine room and forward of the smoke stack, Miguel hated
spending time in the galley and avoided it as much as possible. The exposed
deck on this level was more akin to connected balconies outside of the rooms,
with the floor of the upper deck forming an overhang that connected to this
level by a staircase on either side of the ship. However, the rear section of
this deck was open roofed, and was home to the two-man submersible and its
operating crane. Hanging over each of the gunwales here were two small
life-boats with outboard motors and 5 days of rations.
The third level had no exposed decks and consisted of
engine, maintenance, and other operational rooms. It could be accessed through
the anchor housing room under the upper deck at the bow or through a small shed
on the open part of the lower deck towards the stern. Corwin had given the
research team a tour of the various rooms on this level, all of which were
loud, hot, and wreaked of diesel. This, coupled with the fact the captain
ordered no one go into these rooms without crew supervision, meant Miguel spent
no more time than the tour on this level.
With nothing on the
small vessel to do but talk, walk, and read, Miguel often opted for the latter
two, keeping to himself and throwing cigarette butts off the stern. He did
manage to overhear or else be forced into conversations where he learned a
little bit about the crew. Captain Barton and Steven had met in the Australian
Navy and both retired about ten years prior. They had worked together doing
charter fishing trips for some time before Shelly’s husband had gotten them
this job with AIMS. Millie was an outgoing and very talkative young lady. She
was descended from the aboriginal people and lived in Albany her whole life.
She got her scuba license and submersible piloting certification through the
Institute and had been assigned to the Bess
just this past summer. Corwin, on the other hand, was much more shy and
quiet, only really speaking when spoken to, except around Alex. He was an
undergrad student at the University of Sydney studying marine science and
working as a deck hand and sub pilot as a for-credit internship. All four of
them were nice enough people and were happy to help assist the team with
anything they needed, but Miguel made it a point not to ask for much.
The ship was now
two hours away from the location of the structure. Miguel stood in his normal
spot on the rear of the lower deck, taking a long drag from his cigarette. Even
so, he could barely calm his nerves. Some of the feeling came from the
excitement and anticipation of finally seeing the months of work come to a
climax. The majority, however, came from fear and anxiety. Since the night in
Albany, he had barely been able to sleep. What little rest he did get was
plagued with hauntingly painful memories or images of Alyssa. Coffee and
nicotine now fueled most of his day, with his breakfast having been nothing
more than a hard-boiled egg from five hours prior.
While he stood
listening to the loud sloughing of water off of the propellers below, Miguel
felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Anita giving him another gentle,
motherly smile. “We need to go over the excavation plan one more time. The
others are all waiting in the research center.” Miguel took one last puff from
his cigarette before tossing the butt into the churning wake. He then feigned
his own smile back at Anita and followed her to the research room.
All other members
of the expedition save for Steven were gathered around the room when Miguel and
Anita entered. Alex and Corwin were having a conversation about some soccer
match that had taken place the previous night, while Millie sat
uncharacteristically quiet on her phone. The captain and Dr. McMullin were also
discussing something, but broke off immediately upon Miguel’s entrance. Captain
Barton stood up and brought out her command presence. “Alright everyone, time
to listen up. Mr. Romero, as the research team lead, you’re in charge of how
the excavation will run and making sure it does so smoothly. So, if you’d
kindly go over the plan one more time we’ll make sure everyone’s squared away.”
Reluctantly, Miguel
moved to the center of the room. He could feel everyone’s eyes bearing into him
and it did nothing to help calm is still anxious heart. He knelt down next the
table that had the topographical map of the structure on it. “As you all can
see, the site covers an area of roughly 100 square meters. We’ve divided the
site into the ten by ten grid seen here. Millie and Corwin will systematically
scan the area in the submersible, following along these grid columns here that
are parallel to the structure’s outer walls and snaking back and forth.
Meanwhile, the research team will be observing the live video feed from here
and marking on this map when and where we see anything of note. What’s the lag
time on video and voice relay from the sub?”
“Usually under twenty
seconds,” Millie replied.
“Alright, so be
sure to move slowly and methodically. We might tell you to stop and focus the
camera on something, so keep your ears open for that. After the initial survey
is complete we’ll run additional passes to do further observations and retrieve
anything light enough for the sub to bring back to the surface. From any
discoveries we make we’ll then determine whether additional time and further
excavation of the sight is necessary. Any questions?”
Alex gave a
half-raise of his hand before asking, “Do we plan to do any actual rock-cutting
type excavation?”
“There is a plasma
torch attachment for the submersible arm,” Captain Barton announced, “but it’s
not hooked up right now. I’ll defer to the research team as to whether or not
we’ll use it.”
“As I said,” Miguel
replied, “after the first two surveying passes, we’ll determine whether further
excavation of any type is needed. Anything else?” Everyone silently continued
to stare. “Alright then, Captain Barton, what’s our time-table of prepping the
sub and equipment?”
“Most of the instruments
in here are ready to go, they just need to be turned on. The sub takes an hour
and half to prep, assuming the oxygen supply was hooked up and ready ahead of
time. Millie, you got that done right?”
A sheepish look
came over Millie and even with her dark complexion they could see her cheeks turn
red. “I was going to do it as soon as this meeting ended.”
Pressing her fingers
to her temples, Shelly let out a quiet curse. “Christ Millie! Well, that adds
an extra thirty to forty-five minutes to the prep time, plus the two and a quarter-hour
trip to reach the depth, we’ll be out of daylight before anything can happen.
We’ll have to wait until tomorrow before we send anyone down.”
“Is there any
reason we can’t dive at night?” asked Dr. McMullin
“Sharks are the
biggest reason,” answered the captain. “Schools of hammerheads with over 100 members
and occasional great whites feed in these waters around that time. If something
goes wrong and someone ends up in the water, they’re fish food. Additionally, we’re
all still on normal day sleep schedules. The longer we stay up, the more tired
we get, and the more tired we get, the more prone the whole thing is to
accidents.” Turning to Millie and Corwin, she then said, “That means the rest
of the daylight hours you two are working to make sure everything is ready for
the morning. Double check all the inspection checklists and for the love of
God, hook up the 
.”
.”
Just then the radio
from the wheelhouse clicked on. “Captain,” Steven’s voice crackled over, “we’re
approaching position. Four knots due south.”
Shelly went over and
picked up the transmitter. “Understood Mr. Steven, ahead slow and hold this
heading. I’ll be up shortly.” She then released the button and turned back to
the assembled team. “If no one else has any questions then this meeting’s adjourned.
Millie, Corwin, get to work. The rest of you, get some rest. This show gets
underway early tomorrow.”
As with the
previous nights, Miguel got very little sleep. For the majority of the night he
lay in his bunk, feeling the gentle rocking of the sea and listening to the lapping
of the water on the hull as well as Dr. McMullin’s snoring. His thoughts drifted
between plans, expectations, and fears about the following day, and about
Alyssa and the life they once had. When she crept into his mind, he could feel his
eyes grow heavy with tears as he lay awake staring at the underside of the bunk
above him. He would try and force these memories away, trying to focus on what
would need to be done in the morning, but she always found her way back in.
Eventually, he gave up trying to fight it and just let the pain overtake him.
He sobbed silently into his pillow, carefully controlling his breaths and
sniffles so as to not wake the others. How long the tears lasted he couldn’t
tell, but, when they finished, he was left feeling even more empty than before.
Quietly, he got out of bed and slunk across the room onto the deck.
From beyond the
overhang, an ocean of stars shone brightly in the clear night sky. Each one dazzled
and shone in its own unique way, and yet came together to form a swirling show
of lights. The ocean below was not still enough to create a mirror image, but instead
reflected the tiny lights in a sparkling cascade over the small waves, as if a
million fireflies were all shining in symphony with the stars. The beauty of it
all, however, was lost on Miguel. He would have given every star above to be
with Alyssa again. He pulled out a cigarette and added his own red glow to the array
of starlight. Putting the box away, he noted that he only had about eight left.
Without conviction, he prayed to God that he had made the right choice in
pursuing this expedition, and that he would be able to get through the rest of
it easily and quickly.
The next morning
was abuzz with activity aboard the small ship. The crew was up before the break
of dawn to ensure the vessel was holding its position properly and to finish
triple checking the sub for the day’s work ahead. The research team joined them
not long after, going over notes and speculations about the structure and
testing the equipment. Once the prep work was done, and a small breakfast of flavorless
hot porridge served, Miguel made his way to the wheelhouse to inform the captain
of their status. He found her on the satellite phone talking with Dr. Kepper on
the mainland. “Rodger that, we’ll be sure to keep an eye on it. Call us if you
have any more updates Bill. Over and out.” She swiveled in her chair at the
helm and looked at Miguel. “Dr. Kepper says the weather service picked up a storm
system forming north west of here. It may be nothing, but both me and them will
be keeping a close watch in case it comes our way. How go things on deck?”
“Everything’s ready
to go,” Miguel said with a tired monotone. “Just waiting on your go ahead.”
“Well then, go
ahead.” With that, she turned back to the instruments and kept a watchful eye
on the positioning system. Miguel left the wheelhouse and moved back towards the
launching deck. Once in earshot, he called out to the crew below and relayed
the captain’s permission. Corwin and Millie clambered up and into the
submersible, closing the hatch with a loud thud. Once in position, Corwin gave
an okay sign through the viewport and Steven returned it. The latter began
operating several levers on the control panel in the middle of the deck and the
massive piece of hardware began to rise into the air. With a metallic, industrial
hum, the crane slowly swung its payload out over the stern of the ship. The
chains holding the sub began to slowly lengthen, then, when the vessel was
about five feet above the surface, released the craft entirely into freefall.
The sub crashed into the water with a mighty splash, bobbing up and down on the
waves for a moment before slowly descending. Soon, the whole yellow vessel was
completely swallowed by the blue maw of the sea, the only visible part being
the power and oxygen cables that connected to the main ship.
With the dive
vessel in the water, Miguel rejoined the rest of his team in the research
center. First and foremost, they tested their communication channels with the
sub. Dr. Singh was the first to call. “Testing. Testing. This is Dr. Anita Singh
calling The Barrier Bess submersible
craft. Do you read me? Over.”
“We read you loud
and clear doc,” came Millie’s reply. “We’re descending at a rate of 0.5 meters
per second. We should reach the desired depth in approximately 145 minutes.
Over.”
“Very good. We’ll
maintain frequent contact and get a status update every fifteen minutes. God’s
speed to you. Over and out.” Anita looked back at the team and gave a wide grin
which most everyone else returned. Even Miguel managed to force a little smirk,
but inside his heart was beating faster than ever. Two-and-a-half hours seemed
like an eternity to finally see the object that had caused him so much joy and
so much grief over the last year. But he would have to endure these hours as
best he could.
The submersible status
console in the research room had a number of different displays and readouts
from the craft. On the left side were two large video display screens. The
upper one showed feed from the camera mounted on the robotic arm, which at the
moments was simply the bluish-green shimmer of seawater as the vessel
descended. The lower screen showed the camera feed that monitored the interior
of the sub. Here, Corwin and Millie sat at their posts, reading their display gauges
and operating the occasional steering control. The right side of the console
housed three dials and one smaller screen. The dials indicated the oxygen left
in the tanks, the water pressure on the exterior of the craft, and an artificial
horizon to show the vessel’s roll and pitch angles. The screen was a user-input
display that mirrored the heads-up display in the craft itself. The view shown
could be switched between one showing the current depth, the safe time left in
the voyage, the oxygen consumption rate, forward and vertical speed, and the various
data about the onboard electrical systems. Alex currently manned this console
and periodically switched the small display screen as the sub descended, though
whether he was doing it to check the actual statuses or out of boredom Miguel couldn’t
tell.
After about seven
minutes the craft passed into the twilight depth zone. The camera on the arm
showed the water taking on a much darker hue as light became scarcer. What was once
a bright turquoise expanse turned to a navy field with small glimmers of light.
The view field of the camera was limited, and so nearly no wildlife was seen by
the research team. In their reports, Millie and Corwin said they had seen quite
a few critters in the sunlit zone, and had seen the quick blue streak of a marlin
in the twilight zone. Another thirty minutes later and the sub passed into the
midnight zone. Here, all light faded away, blocked by the kilometer of water
overhead. A pitch-black nothingness was all that could be seen on the feed from
the outer camera. Here, the sub pilots turned on the camera light, illuminating
a small area of water in front of the arm. All the could be seen was the steel
supports of the arm itself and tiny bubbles zooming upwards through the black
abyss. Still, the craft dove ever deeper, the pressure gauge slowly climbing
and the nothingness growing more pressing.
Finally, after an agonizing
wait for Miguel, the pilots reported in that they had reached the ocean floor. The
pressure dial showed a dizzying thirty-nine megapascals; 385 times the atmospheric
pressure at sea level. The electrical instrument display showed the water
temperature to be 3° C, while the interior temperature read 13°
C. There was short moment where both teams let out their collective held breaths
before Miguel, who was now operating the communication link, said, “Alright,
turn on the main exterior lights.”
There was a bright
flash and a second of white display on the screen as the outboard camera
adjusted to the new level of light. When the new picture did come in, it showed
the sea floor clearly visible ahead of and beneath the robotic arm. A greyish-brown
patch of sediment around eight meters ahead was illuminated by the fluorescent glow
of the lights. On this patch were loose rocks, crevices and divots, and a few barnacles
and odd-looking crustaceans. For the first time, the sub slowly began to creep
forward, the sea bed gliding away beneath it as evidence. It passed small vents
and more alien bottom dwellers, with some bioluminescent fish and stranger creatures
occasionally darting in and out of view. The GPS on the craft said they were 200
meters away from the structure, and so they steered towards the precise
coordinates. Soon, the patch of light from the craft began to become smaller and
a drop-off in the sea bed could be seen up ahead. The vessel continued its
straight path and went over the ridge, maintaining its depth as if in flight. As
the ballast was adjusted, the bow of the sub began to pitch down, and with it
went the onboard camera. From the slightly elevated position, the exterior
light fell upon an other-worldly scene on the shelf below.
Directly beneath
the craft sat one of the long, parallel walls that connected to the oval of dots
on the topographical map. It extended forward for five meters before connecting
to this oval, which was a series of mounds that were half-illuminated by the bright
lights. A small section of the rest of the wall could be seen beyond the point
where it met the oval, as well as the bases of some of the mounds that formed
the other half of the oval. Behind the main curve of the oval, and just barely
visible at the edge of the light’s influence, stood the main focus of the structure;
the forty-meter tall central mound that shown like a red iris on the map. Like
some monolithic giant shrouded from sight, it seemed to call out and command
over all the other parts of the structure.
Miguel’s heart seemed
to split in two at the sight of this strange new world; it simultaneously jumped
to the greatest heights of scholarly exhilaration and sank to the lowest depths
of primal fear. Even from where the camera hovered six meters above, the cuts
and separations between stones in the wall could be seen. Whatever this
structure was, there was no longer any doubt that it had been purposefully
built by some, at the very least, semi-intelligent prehistoric race. This was
finally it. This was the discovery that both he and Alyssa knew would shake the
very foundations of history. This was what they had worked so hard on for the
past year. This is what Alyssa had died for. It was both everything he hoped
for and everything he feared.
Click here for Part 4
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