It didn’t take long for the rightful occupants of this undersea realm to make themselves known. The first noticeable sea creature was a familiar, tough-looking brute, with a long tapering body and a jawful of razor sharp teeth. Uncle Albert raced past them with lightning speed, and he needed a mere second to notice that Lisa Tanner was not one of these wet-suited newcomers.
Quick to continue his patient vigil beside the kitchen porthole, the barracuda disappeared beneath one of the habitat’s telescopic legs.
It was Tomo who pointed out a moray eel in the distance.
The snakelike creature was on its way to a nearby clump of brain coral, and its undulating, four foot-long body passed right by them. In reality, it looked more menacing than it was, though its powerful jaws and sharp teeth could produce a nasty bite.
Most often, such an injury was inflicted upon a diver’s hand, as it reached into the dark recesses of a reef, accidentally provoking the eel’s anger.
A group of angel fish darted in and out of the iron bars comprising the shark proof grill. These colorful, gentle creatures seemed to be trying their best to hide themselves from a quartet of lurking snappers. A family of grunts swam by, as well as a group of squirrel fish, and a brilliantly colored, spiny-finned wrasse.
Though he was more than content to watch this never-ending procession, Karl Ivar glanced down at his waterproof watch. The luminescent hands showed it quickly approaching 9:00 a.m.” and he signaled this fact to his diving partner. Tomo nodded that he understood, and together they left the shelter of the grill and began their way towards a sand-filled clearing located on the far side of Habitat One. This was the preplanned drop-off zone for items that were either too bulky or heavy for Dolly to carry down to them.
This portion of the sea floor was located from above by means of a small, battery-powered, sonic emitter, moored to the sand at the center of the circular clearing.
When the supply ship wished to find this target, the crew could switch on the emitter with a remote control device, and this portion of the seabed was readily recognizable.
The two divers were just swimming by Habitat One when Karl Ivar spotted a disturbance topside. The objects responsible for this turbulence soon became visible as the Norwegian reached the edge of the clearing and glanced upwards.
To transfer the habitat’s breathing gases in the most efficient manner, six metal tanks filled with helium had been tied together with a nylon strap. When dropped overboard, these heavy tanks quickly went plummeting to the bottom.
As the tanks struck the sea floor near the center of the clearing, a cloud of sandy sediment rose upwards.
Quick to penetrate this milky veil, Karl Ivar pulled out his knife and cut the restraining strap. Each tank weighed over forty pounds, and he wasted no time grabbing one by the neck and carrying it off to Habitat One. With Tomo’s help, they were able to get all of the shipment stowed away in half an hour.
“It looks like we could use some fresh helium in the main compressor,” remarked Tomo as he helped his fellow-aquanaut position the last of the newly arrived tanks in Habitat One’s storage room.
“Let’s go ahead and use up what’s left of our old stock,” replied Karl Ivar.
“If you’d like, I’ll load the compressor while you get Misha ready,” offered Tomo.
“It would be great if we could get the walls of the fish pen up by lunch.”
“I don’t see why we can’t,” said the Norwegian.
“Why don’t you meet me in the hangar as soon as you’re finished here.”
Karl Ivar was surprised to find Dolly waiting for him in the pool of water of Habitat One’s access way The dolphin seemed strangely agitated, and nervously jerked its head from side to side, while calling out in short, high-pitched cries.
“What’s the matter. Dolly? Did Uncle Albert eat your breakfast again?”
The dolphin seemed to shake its head that this wasn’t the case, and made several short dives into the water below.
“I hear you. Dolly,” said Karl Ivar as he strapped on his air tanks.
“And I’m coming down to join you as soon as I can get my diving gear in order.”
Dolly impatiently waited while he spat into the inner glass plate of his face mask to keep it from fogging up, and pulled on his flippers. Then after putting the air hose in his mouth and testing the flow of the regulator, he climbed into the water and dropped into the depths below.
Dolly seemed to be relieved when he turned towards the hangar and began swimming. The dolphin made several short sprints to the hangar, to emphasize where she wanted her human companion to end up.
Having no idea what Dolly was up to, Karl Ivar passed by the large clump of brain coral that lay halfway between Habitat One and his goal. There were no sharks in the area, and remembering Ivana Petrov’s near miss with death beside this same coral clump, he followed his marine mammal escort all the way to the hangar’s access way Dolly never left his side as he climbed up the ladder and broke the water’s surface.
Long before he was able to reach up and flick on the overhead lights, he knew that something was seriously wrong here. The air had a foul, acrid stench to it, and when the lights failed to activate, he was forced to reach to a supply chest and pull out a flashlight. Then he spotted the reason for Dolly’s behavior.
The entire bottom portion of their diving saucer was blackened by scorch marks. With unbelieving eyes, Karl Ivar knew that Misha had been the victim of a fire. This smoldering blaze must have started sometime in the early hours of the morning. Only a lack of oxygen prevented it from spreading to the rest of the hangar.
With Dolly chattering away in the background, he determined that the fire had started in Misha’s battery compartment. Of course, he immediately blamed himself for this accident. Most likely, his recent work on the mini sub alternator had created an internal electrical short. This short had somehow escaped his most recent inspection of the system only last evening. And now they would have to pay the price for his incompetence.
For even with help from above, Misha’s days of exploring the depths were over.
Thomas Moore was awakened by the blaring voice of a public address announcement. He groggily fumbled for his watch, and had to do a double take upon finding it well past 10:00 a.m. Once again, the Rickover had encouraged a sound night’s sleep, and he felt almost guilty as he yanked back his curtain and planned the best way to extricate himself from his bunk.
To reach the deck, he awkwardly rolled over on his stomach and pushed himself backwards until his feet struck the floor. Still in his coveralls, he pulled his brown leather topsiders from the corner of the bunk, and unlatched the small locker to get to his shaving kit.
As he rolled back the compartment’s sliding door, a shaft of bright light hit his eyes. Two sailors dressed in blue dungarees passed, on their way aft to the crew’s mess. Moore nodded hello and directed his steps to the nearby officers’ head.
He was thankful to have this space to himself. He relieved himself at the urinal, and felt like a veteran submariner as he properly flushed it by pulling down the steel lever that opened a ball valve positioned in its stainless-steel bottom. After washing it out with a slug of water, he turned to the sink.
A hot lather machine was mounted beside the mirror, and after washing up, he spread the warm cream over his face and neck. He shaved, brushed his teeth, then headed for the shower. Ever mindful of Hop’s directions, he turned the water on until the right temperature was attained. Then he ducked inside and hastily soaked his body before halting the flow of water by pushing closed the steel pin located above the shower head. He lathered up, washed his hair, and slid open the pin, causing a torrent of tepid water to issue forth from above.