“Hmmm,” Briscoe added. “It’s unfortunate that Dr. Bowman took this so hard. I wish he were here to add his observations.”
“He doesn’t have any experience with extraterrestrial visitors or particle physics,” Franklin said. “They wouldn’t help.”
“Does anyone?” I questioned. “I think we might as well be discussing his encounter as a paranormal experience.”
“Ghosts?” Briscoe scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Marker. That’s not even scientific.”
“Not so outlandish Chief if you consider the old Davy Jones legend… or the Bermuda Triangle mysteries. Things just mysteriously disappear into the ocean depths sometimes with warnings but most times without.”
“So what are you hinting at, Mr. Cross?” asked Admiral Franklin. “That this is just a figment of everyone’s imaginations? An exercise in mass hysteria? That’s preposterous!”
“No, Admiral I’m simply offering that we may never know what really happened especially with our inability to interact with it or understand its origin. It remains the enigma it is and will continue that way after we have to abandon this station and leave it buried under a two-hundred-ton debris field.”
“What?” Franklin barked, standing from his chair. “W-what do you mean abandon the station? Why would we do that?”
Looking over at Briscoe I said, “You tell him, Chief.”
With his eyes cast downward he began, “Admiral, the object that Silkwood called a black hole is eating away at the station, assimilating it. He described the process as ephemeral tendrils of blue plasma flowing from the wheels and even the crawler base into the object’s center, a core that he said was blacker that black. The structure of Discovery One will soon be so compromised that it will no longer hold back the pressure and we’ll have to evacuate.”
Appearing shocked the Admiral pried further.
“And when will that be in your estimation, Mr. Briscoe?”
“Hours, days, weeks? Who knows? We’re dealing with something beyond human experience or knowledge.”
He put his hand to his head and closed his eyes obviously in deep thought. Then, sitting down in his chair he said, “We need Bowman here. We need to move the station away for this thing as soon as possible.”
Supporting Briscoe’s warning, I spoke up.
“Given the damage I saw down there, I doubt that will be possible but it’s worth a try.”
“Williams, find Bowman and bring him down to the bridge,” Franklin ordered, checking his watch. “I’m heading there now and we’re moving the station to the CHUS cable as planned just a few hours early.”
“Aye, aye sir,” she answered standing and leaving the room.
Tracking behind the Admiral, the Chief and I had no idea where were going but he did. Rushing to keep up, we entered Quad 2 and paced through the racks of computers into the rear of the room. On the back wall, another down arrow noted BRIDGE with a red-lighted box around it resembling an exit sign.
Stooping he twisted the hatch lock and let it drop down into a dark musty vertical tunnel leading to a cavernous room far below. On his first step down the long ladder, the distant room illuminated with a muted red lighting. Briscoe glanced back at me waiting behind him and squinted down into the room.
“I hate that red lighting,” he said. “Makes me feel like my vision’s failing.”
“It’ll get better, Chief. Your eyes have to adapt. You know the drill.”
“Yeah, but I still hate it.”
At the bottom of the ladder, we stood by Franklin surveying our surroundings. Unlike a ship’s bridge, the room was more like an aircraft cockpit with a panoramic forward-looking thick window and a pair of side-by-side joysticks under them. Above and around the window were numerous video panels flickering to life, displaying lines and panels of moving data.
“Here’s the heart of our navigation system: the helm,” Franklin said fanning his hand across the windowed area. “Looks complex but it’s really like driving a zero-turn-radius riding lawnmower. The left joystick controls the ten port wheels while the right one controls the starboard’s wheel array of ten more. They all move in tandem under computer control with a five-hundred horsepower motor powering each wheel.”
“What about the three front missing wheels and the fourth decaying one. What will happen?” asked the Chief.
“We’ll have to see when we power them up,” he said matter-of-factly. “The tractor system’s redundancy should account for their loss. Although it has only been tested in the pre-commissioning trial runs it worked well when we removed or blocked several wheels simulating anticipated difficulties.”
Briscoe nodded and stepped over to the window’s right corner, then peered downward. “Where are the Pod Bays? I expected to see them below us.”
“Above us, Mr. Briscoe. A level up. That’s why the long ladder down. We’re on the lowest habitable level with the nuclear plant and other life-support systems behind us.”
“So we’re on the closest level to the monopole?”
“Yes that’s right but we never anticipated such a danger below us. Fortunately the bridge is still intact.”
“But not for long,” I said noticing a small puddle of water on the floor beside Briscoe. “There’s water seeping in over here.”
He rushed over and stared down at it then slowly raised his eyes to me. “My God you’re right, Mr. Cross. It’s happening.”
“What’s going on down here,” asked Bowman dropping down with Williams from the tunnel. Lieutenant Williams said you were anxious to leave. Why is that Admiral? First you said to hold off and now you’re rushing us to leave. Has that DOD meeting schedule changed?”
“No, Dr. Bowman, your station has changed. Look over there,” he said pointing to the small pool of seawater.
“Well, Admiral, I can get a towel and clean that up if it bothers you.”
“Don’t be such a fool, Bowman. That doesn’t bother me. It’s the billions and trillions of gallons of water pushing that puddle inward that bothers me. And according to the Deep Force team here we’ll be dodging water knives, if not flooding, all over the station pretty soon.”
“So how will moving solve that problem?”
“The thing down there is eating the station, Dave, and we’re beginning to see the results of that damage. The station is now listing several degrees and that puddle is directly over it. The more we list toward that monster the faster it will consume us. You have to pull away and save what we have left.”
Without argument, Bowman walked to an Ivy console on the rear wall.
“Ivy, Dave Bowman. Please notify the station to prepare for travel in ten minutes. Announce for the crew to close and seal all hatches then clear the mess and tie down loose items. Also secure the Pod Bays for travel. The usual stuff.”
“Yes, Dave Bowman. Shall I also lock the hard drive heads as usual or run computations through the move?”
No. No computations. And prepare to pull anchor on my command.”
“Understood. I will be standing by. Ivy out.”
“Lieutenant, are you needed elsewhere,” Bowman asked rejoining us at the helm.
She glanced back to the tunnel still lit by the overheads in Quad 2 and said, “Only to seal that hatch. I left it open thinking we’d just be a few minutes.”
“Well things have obviously changed. Please close and secure it. You’re staying with us until we’re moving.”
“Yes sir. Anything else I can do?”
“Pray.”
Ivy’s announcement on the PA system soon started.
“Attention staff and crew. Attention staff and crew. Prepare for station’s travel mode in ten minutes. Repeat, prepare for travel mode. Stow all movable objects, clear and close the mess hall, close and lock all watertight hatches then staff your travel stations. Motion will begin in ten minutes.”