DEAD SPACE MARTYR PART FOUR THE DESCENT Part 35


35

A week later, they arrived, and everybody was eager to get

to work. They started by taking readings from the surface,

from a launch that rose and fell with the swell of the waves.

Field was with him at first, taking readings of his own and

double-checking Altman’s, though he became greener and

greener as the afternoon went on. He spent the last hour of

the day hanging over the launch’s side, retching.

By the next morning, a groaning, vomit-flecked Field had

been shipped back to the floating compound and it was just

Hendricks and Altman. They brought the bathyscaphe down

a thousand meters and took their readings there, waiting

for confirmation from Markoff to descend farther. When it

came, they went down to two thousand meters and

repeated the process.

“Seems straightforward,” said Altman.

Hendricks shrugged. “More or less,” he said. “Only

problem is that down this deep, communication gets

erratic. It’s hard to know if they’ll receive the data we’re

sending.”

“We might be cut off?” asked Altman.

“It comes and goes,” said Hendricks. “Really nothing to

worry about as long as nothing goes wrong.”

Through the front observation porthole, Altman thought he

could see pinpricks of light from the excavation below, from

the robotic diggers. But it was too far away to make

anything out. “We could go down to three thousand meters,

take readings, and then come back up,” said Altman.

“We’ve got more than enough air for it. You’re the boss. Up

to you.”

Hendricks said, “Have you heard the stories about the

other bathyscaphe?”

“I’ve seen the vid,” Altman said.

“What do you think happened?”

“I don’t know,” said Altman.

“Doesn’t it worry you at all?”

“I don’t know,” said Altman. “I want to know what

happened, but I’m not worried exactly. Does it worry you?”

Hendricks nodded. “Let’s take it slow. There’s no point in

rushing things,” he said. “On the other hand, if I’m reading

the data right, the pulse signal is starting again.”

“Really?” said Altman, trying to keep the excitement out

of his voice. “Are you certain?”

Hendricks hesitated, then nodded slowly. “It’s very slight

—I caught it at two thousand meters but not at one

thousand—but it’s there.”

“What does it mean that it’s back?” asked Altman.

“Maybe we should keep going down after all. Who knows

how long it will last? We need to record it while it’s still

broadcasting.”

But Hendricks had one hand cupped over his earpiece.

“Too late,” he said. “They’re ordering us back up.”

They looked at each other a long moment. “You said

yourself that communications are intermittent,” said Altman.

“How will they know we got the message?”

Hendricks shook his head. “If we don’t get the okay to go

down to three thousand meters, we’re to go back to the

surface anyway. That’s protocol. If we disobey, what do you

think the chances are of them letting us near a bathyscaphe

again? We can’t do it.”

A half dozen counterarguments fired through his head

and then quickly dissolved. Hendricks was right. They had

no choice. The signal would have to wait.

A contingent of guards was waiting for them by the time

they opened the hatch and stepped out in the submarine

bay. They were hustled down to the command center, which

was already occupied not just by Markoff but also by a half

dozen researchers, all of them part of Markoff’s inner circle.

Not men from Chicxulub. They looked stern, serious.

“The pulse signal has started again?” asked Markoff.

“You’re sure about this?”

“Why the hell wouldn’t we be?” said Altman. “The

instruments don’t lie.” He gestured at the other researchers.

“But you apparently wanted a second opinion. Why don’t

you ask them?”

“It’s much weaker than it was before,” said one of the

men.

“We noticed,” said Altman.

“Maybe it’s not the same signal after all,” said another.

“Maybe it’s static and feedback from the MROVs and

robotic units that are handling the excavation.”

“Just barely possible,” said Altman. “But not at all likely.

It’s the same signal.”

“Did you feel anything unusual? Sense anything

strange?” asked Markoff.

Altman shook his head. “No,” he said.

“What about you, Hendricks?”

“I don’t know, sir,” said Hendricks.

“You don’t know?”

“When I reached two thousand meters, I started to feel a

little strange. It felt like a premonition or something.”

“Stevens,” said Markoff, and one of the researchers

came forward. He was distinguished looking, but had a

relaxed, kind face. “Take Hendricks and work up a full

psychological profile. If you get any sense of a problem,

you’re authorized to take him off duty. If he looks fine to you,

we’ll have both of them in the bathyscaphe first thing

tomorrow.”

That night Altman’s dreams began again. He woke up

drenched in sweat in the middle of the night and found he

could not move. He was jittery, little flashes of light going off

behind his eyelids, and he had a sense of dread that

refused to leave him. It took a long time for him to become

aware that he wasn’t back at his house in Chicxulub, but

when he did, the imagined shape of the room around him

became amorphous and vague.

His heart began to pound heavily, and he could hear the

blood in his ears. The space around him remained

undetermined in the darkness. It was like he was in a place

that wasn’t a place at all, like he was suspended in a void.

He tried again to move but still couldn’t. Am I still

dreaming? he wondered.

And then, only very slowly did he realize where he might

be, in the floating compound, that sound just beside him the

sound of Ada breathing in her sleep.

And suddenly he found he could move again. He got up,

drank a glass of water, and got back into the bed again.

Ada moaned in her sleep. He wrestled with trying to fall

back asleep, when he heard a knock on his door.

It was Stevens.

“Altman, isn’t it?” he whispered.

“Yes,” Altman said.

“Can we go somewhere to talk?”

Altman slipped into his pants and a shirt and tiptoed out

of the room, following Stevens down the hall. The man

keyed an empty lab open, ushered Altman in.

“What’s this about?” Altman asked.

“You haven’t noticed anything unusual about Hendricks,

have you?” asked Stevens.

“Is anything wrong?”

refused to leave him. It took a long time for him to become

aware that he wasn’t back at his house in Chicxulub, but

when he did, the imagined shape of the room around him

became amorphous and vague.

His heart began to pound heavily, and he could hear the

blood in his ears. The space around him remained

undetermined in the darkness. It was like he was in a place

that wasn’t a place at all, like he was suspended in a void.

He tried again to move but still couldn’t. Am I still

dreaming? he wondered.

And then, only very slowly did he realize where he might

be, in the floating compound, that sound just beside him the

sound of Ada breathing in her sleep.

And suddenly he found he could move again. He got up,

drank a glass of water, and got back into the bed again.

Ada moaned in her sleep. He wrestled with trying to fall

back asleep, when he heard a knock on his door.

It was Stevens.

“Altman, isn’t it?” he whispered.

“Yes,” Altman said.

“Can we go somewhere to talk?”

Altman slipped into his pants and a shirt and tiptoed out

of the room, following Stevens down the hall. The man

keyed an empty lab open, ushered Altman in.

“What’s this about?” Altman asked.

“You haven’t noticed anything unusual about Hendricks,

have you?” asked Stevens.

“Is anything wrong?”

“Nothing wrong with the scans,” said Stevens. “Nothing

wrong with the tests either. But there’s still something

bothering me. I can’t quite put my finger on it. He seems

normal, stable, but different somehow.”

“He seems the same to me,” said Altman.

“Maybe it’s just the pressure,” said Stevens. “Maybe he’s

nervous. But it feels like he’s holding something back.”

Altman nodded.

“Since you’re going to be alone with him in the

bathyscaphe and the one to suffer if things go wrong, I

thought I’d talk to you about it.”

“I don’t know what to say,” said Altman. “He seems fine to

me. I’ve never had any problems with him on a dive, never

sensed any nervousness. I trust him. No,” he said. “I’m not

worried about him. In fact, I’m a lot less worried about him

than I’d be being confined in the bathyscaphe with many of

the other people in this facility.”

Stevens nodded. “We want to be careful,” he said. “You

can understand that, considering what happened with the

last bathyscaphe. We don’t want anything going wrong. All

right,” he said, “I’ll tell them we can move ahead.”





 

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