A Magnificent Hell
Western Pacific
Terry leaned back against the rail, allowing the morning sun to warm her face. Having barely slept, she would have preferred to spend the rest of the day in bed, but that would have aroused suspicion.
Tokamak? What was Benedict working on in his lab? Could it have something to do with the Benthos?
She opened her eyes as the Epimetheus broke the surface fifty yards off the Goliath 's stern. A diver rode the winch's cable down to the sea, attaching several clips along the submersible's hull. Minutes later, the sixty-eight foot cigar-shaped vessel swung into place and was lowered onto its docking platform.
Benedict gave her a wave as he crossed the aft deck to greet the members of his A team. Half of the B team were already on board the Benthos, having made the journey to relieve their companions two days early. In less than three hours, Benedict and the remaining members of the crew would board the Prometheus for a week's mission in the Trench.
Terry watched Benedict through heavy eyes, wondering if he knew it was she who had broken into his lab.
Just get the sonar records and get off this ship . . .
Something was going on. Terry stood away from the rail, the surge of adrenaline snapping her awake. Across the deck Benedict was engaged in a heated discussion with the A team's captain. The two men looked over in her direction.
Terry met Benedict halfway across the deck.
"Is there a problem?"
"It's my fault, forgive me," Benedict said. "The captain has correctly pointed out that the Benthos computers were specially designed and are not compatible with the Goliath or anything JAMSTEC would possess."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that before the sonar records JAMSTEC requires can be brought topside, they must be converted to an acceptable format on board the Benthos."
Terry felt herself getting angry. "Fine, convert it. do whatever's necessary."
"Unfortunately, these things take time. The Benthos has been functioning with a skeleton crew. Converting the required information is not very difficult; in fact, you could do it yourself after ten minutes of instruction, but it means tying up one of our people for at least two, perhaps three shifts. The good news is that I'll be aboard the Benthos over the next week. I give you my word that I will do my best to isolate and convert the necessary data, or, at the very least, complete a significant percentage of it."
"That means I'm stuck on board the Goliath for at least another week?"
"Perhaps two if I cannot finish the work. I'm sure JAMSTEC will understand the delay."
Terry shook her head in protest, feeling her fatigue getting the best of her. "No, Benedict, they won't understand. In fact, if I repeat what you just told me they'll probably cancel our contract immediately."
Benedict looked surprised. "Why would they do such a thing? Do they not trust us?"
"No, nothing like that. I think the Japanese just tend to be suspicious."
"Suspicious of what?"
"I don't know. It doesn't matter—"
"It matters to me. I conduct business in good faith all over the world. Wherever I travel, my word is my bond. How dare the Japanese question me?" Benedict's face turned beet-red, the veins in his neck throbbing. "Nemo me impune lacessit—no one attacks me with impunity! I will not allow myself to be bullied in any way by any nation. I shall cancel our contract—"
"No, wait—" Terry panicked, her mind racing. She couldn't allow the JAMSTEC contract to be canceled. She also wanted to learn more about Benedict's secret lab. "Benedict, what about me? What if . . . what if you showed me how to convert the data?"
"You?" Benedict shook his head. "You would have to join us aboard the Benthos. After what happened to your brother, your father would have me shot if he knew I had taken you into the Trench."
"He doesn't have to know. Benedict, please, it's the only way. If JAMSTEC cancels, it would ruin my father. Please—"
Benedict stared out to sea, enjoying the mind game. "I don't see how . . ."
"Benedict, look at how much time and money GTI has already invested in this project. It's too important to just walk away. Give me a chance to satisfy JAMSTEC. I'll collect the data and stay out of your way."
"Very well," Benedict said, moving in for the kill. "But so there is no bad blood between your father and myself, I want you to write a letter by your own hand explaining that this is your decision entirely, absolving me of all responsibility."
"Thank you. I'll prepare the letter, then I'll pack. How soon do we leave?"
"Two hours. Pack light. There's not much room on board the Prometheus."
Terry trotted across the deck, heading back to her cabin.
* * * * *
Terry descended carefully through the conning tower into the main cabin of the Prometheus. The sub's four-man crew were at their stations, the remainder of the Benthos 's B team lying about or playing cards in the tiny galley.
Benedict looked up from his workstation. "Ah, our guest of honor. Welcome aboard. Are you nervous, my dear?"
"Excited, actually. It's been a dream of mine to dive into the Trench."
"Then this is a fortunate day. Come with me, I've reserved the best seat in the house for your first descent."
Benedict led her through the tight cylinder, the walls lined from floor to ceiling with computer consoles and electronic gadgetry. A dozen steel pipes ran overhead. At the center of the vessel, the grated walkway widened. Terry could see light coming from below.
Benedict bent down and removed a two-foot square of grating from the floor, revealing the entrance into the spherical observation pod located beneath the main cabin.
"Go ahead. Climb down and make yourself comfortable. When you get bored with the view, activate the computer and type in 'GUEST.' The program will take you on a guided tour of the Benthos. Touch nothing else. If you get cold, there's a blanket beneath the seat."
Terry climbed down a short ladder, stepping into the one-seat pod. The spherical structure hung suspended beneath the submersible's hull like a World War II fighter plane's gun turret. An eight-inch porthole set at a forty-five-degree angle lay directly in front of her. A rush of adrenaline coursed through her. This was going to be fun.
A metallic double clang and the track began moving. Moments later, the winch attached to the enormous steel frame reeled the Prometheus above the deck. The entire mechanism pivoted backward, swinging the vessel up and over the Goliath in a long, graceful arc. Terry watched the sea rush up at her as the submersible was released into the water.
Swells tossed the vessel to and for. Divers disconnected lines and inspected the array of gadgetry and rows of weight plates secured under the hull. One frogman gave Terry a wave before disappearing in an effervescence of bubbles.
The Prometheus began sinking, descending slowly on its six-hour journey into the unknown.
Terry stared out at a blue world illuminated by the beams from a half-dozen underwater lights. She could see the tips of the robotic arms' mechanical fingers folded beneath the hull, as well as a series of cameras clustered below the bow. As they descended farther, the sea darkened from a deep shade of blue to a purple hue before going utterly dark.
Cold began to press in on her. She pulled out the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders.
Like its sister ship the Epimetheus, the Prometheus was designed with a double hull of six-inch-thick titanium. In order to descend, the sub's main ballast tanks were flooded with seawater, making the vessel negatively buoyant. Upon reaching the Trench, several steel plates secured along the underside of the hull would be jettisoned until the sub achieved neutral buoyancy. To surface, the remaining weights would be released.
As they passed the two-mile mark, Terry saw a twinkling of tiny lights beneath her window. Two brown anglerfish appeared, each possessing enormous heads and frightful-looking jaws of needlelike teeth. From the top of their skulls a fleshy projection dangled out and over their mouths, at the tip of which was a glowing light, used to attract prey. The anglers darted back and forth in the sub's lights, eventually losing interest.
Making herself comfortable, Terry pulled out the computer's keypad onto her lap and typed in the word, "GUEST." The program booted. A Geo-Tech Industries emblem appeared, offering the user a choice of user languages. Terry manipulated the arrow to "ENGLISH," pressed "ENTER," then waited for the program to begin.
"Welcome aboard the Benthos," crackled a feminine dubbed-in voice, "Geo-Tech Industries' crowning achievement for deep-sea exploration."
A computer-animated image of the Benthos appeared, the vessel resembling the northern hemisphere of an enormous globe, cut in half along its equator. Three clawlike legs dangled from beneath the ship's false flattened undercarriage.
A scale replica of a six-story building materialized next to the Benthos, only to be dwarfed by the dome-shaped object.
"The Benthos is a marvel of engineering and technology. The largest submersible ever built, it measures two hundred thirty feet from the peak of its dome to the bottom of its three retractable shock-absorber legs. The diameter of its circular undercarriage extends a full three hundred feet across. Submerged, the entire ship displaces sixty-four thousand six hundred and fifty tons".
"The Benthos hull is composed of eighteen layers of six-inch titanium, one hundred eight inches thick, capable of withstanding compressive forces in excess of ninety-six billion pounds. The hull of the vessel is actually a perfect sphere, its flattened underside a nonpressure cowling designed to support its ballast tanks."
"The interior of the Benthos is divided into seven decks, each self-contained. In the unlikely event of a hull breach on one deck, the remaining decks would maintain integrity."
The computer image of the Benthos changed, its outer casing dissolving to reveal its internal compartments.
"As we can see, each deck is linked by a sealed stairway, or companionway, as well as an access tube that runs as a vertical connecting shaft down the very center of the vessel. Watertight hatches capable of withstanding pressures in excess of sixteen thousand pounds per square inch separate each adjoining level.
"Our tour begins at the top, or A deck. This domed section, which we call our observation deck, contains an additional interior shell composed entirely of ten-inch-thick LEXAN, a clear, impenetrable, plastic. Thirty percent of the outer titanium hull along A deck can be retracted like the dome of a telescope, revealing the unexplored beauty of the deep Universe."
"B deck contains the bridge, or command center of the Benthos. Our computer and engine room is located directly below the bridge on C deck. D deck, the central and largest deck in our spherical sub, contains our galley, dining area, and recreation lounge. Crews quarters are located on E deck, along with the ship's stores. Deck F is where the Benthos's nuclear reactor is housed, as well as a variety of equipment and mechanical rooms. The sub's single screw can also be accessed from here. The lowest level, its dimensions identical to the observation area, is G deck. It is here, at the bottom of the sub, where all entry into the Benthos takes place."
"Situated beneath the Benthos's hull is an abyssal docking station designed for the vessel's submersible transport ships, the Proteus, the Prometheus and the Epimetheus. A pressurized vault originates just below G deck. Mechanical docking arms located in the undercarriage position the submersible, lifting its conning tower up and into the flooded docking bay. Once the sub is sealed in place, this compartment drains and repressurizes, a feat made possible using the combined efforts of ten, five-hundred horsepower pumps, creating over two million two-hundred and forty thousand foot pounds of force per cubic foot. G deck also houses a one-thousand-eight-hundred-square-foot underwater hangar, which can be pressurized or vented using massive hydraulic ram pumps located on level F, allowing for deployment of heavy equipment or robotic operational vehicles into the abyss."
"Designed as both an exploratory vessel and deep-sea submarine docking center, the Benthos can remain within the deep at neutral buoyancy for months at a time. The ship's flat undercarriage is composed of two different types of pressurized ballast tanks. Gasoline-filled pontoon-like tanks provide positive buoyancy while pressurized tanks filled with seawater can be adjusted to achieve both negative and neutral buoyancy. Forward maneuverability is made possible by our nuclear-powered S8G reactor, which provides steam to drive the electrical turbo generators and motor that turn Benthos's single-propeller shaft—"
Terry turned the computer off, wrapping herself tighter within the blanket. They had been descending for more than three hours now, more than four miles of ice-cold ocean above their heads. She closed her eyes.
* * * * *
Terry woke with a start, feeling as if she were falling. Flailing her arms out to her sides, she grabbed hold of a console until she regained her equilibrium.
Two more hours had passed. She glanced at the depth gauge above her head: 34,487 feet/ The view from her porthole had turned murky. She realized that the temperature within the pod was rising.
The Prometheus descended through a layer of dense sedimentlike clouds, an abyssal ceiling of superheated water and minerals originating from beneath the seafloor. Spewed forth from towering hydrothermal sulfide chimneys, the suspended minerals helped maintain an insulated layer of warmth over many areas of the Mariana Trench.
Minutes passed, the water gradually clearing. Another fifty feet and they descended into a canyon of shimmering black water whose temperatures varied from fifty degrees along its abyssal plains to upwards of seven hundred degrees directly above the mouths of its hydrothermal vents. They had reached bottom.
An unfathomably large shadow loomed ahead. Terry could make out docking lights flickering on and off.
The Benthos.
Staring wide-eyed out the porthole, she watched in fascination as the long bow of the Prometheus slid within the docking assembly mounted along the undercarriage of the Benthos. With a groaning of rubber against metal, the sub stopped. Hydraulic sounds reverberated all around her as the docking assembly's arms raised the submersible into position. Terry could hear a pressurized sleeve being fitted over the sub's conning tower, and then a great whoosh of air as the compartment was sealed and repressurized.
Benedict ducked his head into the pod. "To the extreme, at last."
Terry climbed out of the spherical compartment, then followed Benedict up the conning tower ladder into a small chamber, its circular white walls still moist with seawater. They exited out a pressurized vault door, entering G deck of the Benthos.
A barrel-chested man in his forties greeted them. Benedict shook his hand, turning to Terry.
"Terry Taylor, this is Captain Breston Hoppe."
"Welcome aboard the Benthos, Mrs. Taylor. We'll stow your gear in cabin eight, which is on E deck, two levels up. We only have a few rules for our guests, but we ask you to follow them to the letter. There are only two passages leading to adjacent decks. When passing through, please be sure to secure all watertight doors behind you. In the unlikely event of a hull breach, titanium doors will automatically seal all hatches and the access tube, but the watertight doors must remain closed for the seals to lock into place. You may feel free to access any part of the vessel, with the exception of certain high-tech areas marked 'authorized personnel only.' We also don't allow smoking on board."
"Not a problem."
"Captain, I'll join you in a few moments in the bridge," Benedict said. "First, I want to show our guest the observation room."
Benedict bypassed the companionway stairs, choosing to ascend directly through the core of the vessel by way of the vertical access tube. Terry followed him into the ten-foot-diameter chute, then up the steel ladder, her arms aching by the time they reached A deck.
The circular room was just over a hundred feet wide, its dome-shaped, cathedrallike ceiling rising thirty feet above their heads. Plush violet carpeting lined the expanse of floor. Suede chairs and luxurious down sofas ringed one half of the room, with a large oak conference table, chairs, and a bar along the opposite side.
Benedict moved to the wall behind the bar and reached for a series of switches mounted on a sophisticated control panel. The lights dimmed.
"From the moment we first descended from the trees, man has been an explorer," Benedict said, his voice echoing throughout the room. "We have conquered every corner of the world and have circumnavigated the globe. We have probed the distant reaches of the galaxy and explored the nucleus of the atom. We've set foot on the face of the Moon, landed on Mars, and have dispersed spacecraft to all the planets within our solar system. And yet for all our accomplishments, we have barely penetrated the void that covers sixty-five percent of our own world's surface.
"Since the days of Galileo, millions have glimpsed the heavens, yet only a handful have gazed into the abyss. But it is here," he raised his voice, "here, within the deepest recesses of the ocean, that life truly originated. Since time began, an elixir of chemicals, the components of life itself, has been spewing forth from these unexplored depths. The answer to life's riddle is here, Terry; yet man, for all his bravado, continues to fear the deep, terrified by its dark secrets and primal chaos."
Terry sensed a controlled madness in his voice.
"Audientes fortuna juvat—fortune favors the bold. Like the great explorers before me—Marco Polo, Colombus, Magellan, Galileo, Hubble, Armstrong, Beebe—I dare to fail greatly so that I may achieve greatness."
Benedict hit a switch, extinguishing the interior lights. A deep rumbling reverberated overhead, and then a section of the domed wall began retracting.
"Behold, man's last, greatest unexplored world!"
Terry stifled a scream, her heart racing in flurries as the titanium hull parted. She stared into the black heart of the abyss and thought of oblivion.
Benedict's soothing voice came out of the pitch. "Let there be light."
An eerie incandescent-red glow ignited from the Benthos, the powerful lights revealing a vast alien world like nothing Terry could have ever imagined. The view overlooked a petrified forest of countless black smokers, whose chimneylike formations silently bellowed superheated water and smoke from their primordial stacks. At the base of the structures, some of which towered more than six stories, were clusters of albino clams and mussels and crustaceans, sprawling in worship around their source of nourishment. Freakish specimens of glowing fish wove in and out of the hydrothermal vents, swirling like pixie dust within the Trench.
It was a magnificent hell.
Benedict stood before the window, his arms outspread, emerald eyes blazing as he reveled in his glory.
"I am the master of my fate, the captain of my soul. Veni, vedi, vici," he whispered, "I came . . . I saw . . . I conquered."