Out the bubble with floods reactivated, I could see we were less than five meters from the station’s hull and still falling away from the docking bay.
“Ten seconds to impact,” I estimated.
Precious seconds passed as the blue ‘Loading’ bar crept across the screen. I wanted to push it faster.
“Wait!” Williams said. “I’ve got control back! Halleluiah!”
Breathing a sigh of relief, I saw Briscoe with his hands clasped in front of him whispering words. I thought it wise to whisper a few words of thanks myself so I did.
“Pull back now! Pull back now! Pull back now! Impact imminent!” Ivy announced her voice insistent.
The roar of the thruster motors and the backward push throwing me forward in my seat brought a lump to my throat. How could I have known to do that? Then I remembered my old maxim: When in doubt reboot. That’s all I did.
Briscoe opened his eyes at the reverse acceleration and looked at me. Then he raised his hand for a high-five.
“My God, Marker, that was pure genius,” he said. “You saved our lives.”
Backing us off from the station’s hull Lt. Williams glanced over and smiled.
“Yeah, Marker, if I can call you that, I agree. I thank you with all my heart. Now I know why you’re here… and Mr. Briscoe said he’s the Navy’s best diver. That makes you better than the best.”
“Well thank you both,” I told them. “And yes, Lieutenant, you’re on the short list of those who know my middle name. Use it wisely. And, as far as what I just did it’s just called self preservation and you happened to be with me when it happened.”
“Course corrected.” Ivy announced. “Docking expected in twenty seconds. Proceed at one-half meter per second.”
The Lieutenant back in control keeping her cool adjusted the joystick.
“That’s never happened to me before. I’m so sorry. I almost killed us. Wonder what went wrong.”
Chief Briscoe looking over her shoulder at the screen suggested, “Maybe someone doesn’t want us here. Ever thought of that, Marker?”
I had not and it sent chills up my spine. My mind was already reeling from being sent into what seemed like a deep-sea death trap and his words confirmed my fears. Only time would tell.
Nearing the pod bay, only a few meters out we saw the brilliantly lighted room come into focus, ready for our entry. As we slowly drifted inward, the docking chamber appeared as a cavernous swimming pool turned on its side with a ladder climbing the wall at the back. She pulled back on the joystick bringing us to a slow halt.
“You’re about to experience a sharp bump as we land on the docking pad and are gripped by a strong electromagnet locking us down. Then the pod bay door will close and seal behind us as we wait for pumps to force the water out and fill the bay with air. We’re basically in an open ballast tank with a sea-proof door called a pod docking bay. Once we’re in dry dock we’ll pressurize, open the hatch, and exit the SeaPod.”
It happened just as she described although it took almost ten minutes to pump the bay empty; it was a painfully slow process but then I had never been on the inside of a huge purging ballast before: it was quite a unique experience.
When the large indicator on the bay’s back wall changed from red to green an icon illuminated on the SeaPod’s control panel. Then my ears popped as a slight overpressure filled our cockpit from a pump below my feet. Williams reached up spun the hatch lock open and touched the icon starting the hatch cover into motion. Like compressed gas, escaping from a soda pop bottle air hissed past the cover as it drew back from the hatch.
“Now we wait,” she said.
“For what?” asked Briscoe, standing glancing around the empty bay.
“Well you can go now if you don’t mind risking a broken or sprained ankle jumping down from the hatch over a very slick sphere onto a wet very slippery floor. Otherwise we wait for one of our crew to roll that stairway up the hatch so we can exit gracefully… and safely.”
He sat back and sighed.
“Not knowing if you have a doctor on staff or even a sickbay I’ll just sit here be safe and wait.”
“Oh we have a lot of doctors on staff but none of them are MDs, just PhDs. And there is a sickbay but the best treatment you’ll get is from those of our crew who have served as wartime medics.”
As she spoke a ceiling hatch dropped down at the top of the rear ladder. Feet legs then the body of a crewman appeared in a blue jumpsuit. With his feet grasping the ladder’s rails he slid down to the floor walked to the stairway and unlatched it from the wall, then rolled it up to our bubble’s hatch. Soon a hand followed by a head dropped through the hatch welcoming us.
“Hi guys I’m Captain Bill Edwards U.S. Navy. Welcome aboard Discovery One. Can I give anyone a hand jumping ship? Take your bags?”
Laughing, Briscoe said, “Hi. I’m Mica Briscoe. After that wild ride I thought about it, Captain, but ladies first.”
Williams glared at him.
“We don’t do that here, Mr. Briscoe. I’m an equal to every crewman on board. No better no worse and I’ll be the last to leave my ship.”
Watching him blush I felt his embarrassment even though he was just being chivalrous: a trait appreciated in the civilian world in which he worked. Not every ex-Navy California Highway Patrolman would have even offered.
“I’ll go, Captain,” I said grabbing his hand as he helped me stand from my seat. Then dropping my bag out I wiggled through the hatch to a platform at the top of the steps large enough for several people to stand.
“Mr. Briscoe, you’re next.”
He stood through the hatch, dropped his bag on the platform, and took the Captain’s hand.
“Now Marker here says I’m a tight fit through there — too many donuts. Think I can make it, Captain?”
“Well if not, Mr. Briscoe, I’ll just have to get our hatch stretcher.” He grinned broadly after his comment and pulled.
Tugging his hand Edwards brought him easily through the hatch eliciting a quiet applause from Lt. Williams.
“Enough of that, Lieutenant,” Briscoe chided. “We’re equals remember? Except for a few inches around our waists, maybe.”
As Briscoe and I took our kitbags and stepped down to deck level Williams hopped through the hatch and quickstepped down the stairs with the Captain and joined us.
“Captain Edwards is the second team’s leader,” she said, turning to him saluting. “He’ll prep the SeaPod for the next dive. Now please follow me.”
She started off and then looked back.
“Oh, Captain, would you please check the AutoDock function on that SeaPod. It went off course and almost killed us. Mr. Cross had to reboot the system to regain control. Never happened before; hope it never happens again.”
He nodded and frowned back at the SeaPod then went about his prepping.
“Wait. I’m confused, Lieutenant,” I said stopping her. “I’ve heard the people on station called the crew in one sentence and staff in the next. Which one is it?”
“Both,” she said. “When I’m talking about us operating in the maritime environment we’re the crew. When I speak of us acting as scientists collecting and analyzing data we’re staff. Then we also have the support crew. Everyone wears two hats, some three, some four. That’s the way I see it.”
Briscoe shrugged his shoulders.
“Same difference to me. Six of one half dozen of the other but which hat do we wear?”
Smiling slyly, she said, “I guess you’re the MPs. Yet another hat.”
“I like peacekeepers better,” I said. “Maybe even investigators. MP just sounds too harsh and we’re not even military. Right Chief?”
“Just call me Chief… and when the Mess Hall opens. I’m here to solve problems nothing more.”