33
TIME NO LONGER HELD any meaning for him as he groped around in the everlasting darkness. The surrounding air was thick and rancid, so dense it seemed he could grab hold of it and sculpt the very ether into all sorts of misshapen objects with his cold, trembling hands.
When awareness finally combined with memory, Gordon couldn’t remember how he had managed to open the hatch into the undersea habitat and make it inside, yet he must have somehow since he was conscious once again. The barely breathable air inside the joined metal capsules of the desolate, undersea habitat still had some oxygen, otherwise he would have been dead already.
Groping around in the dark, his partially numb fingers could trace the outlines of gauges, cylinders, and levers along the curving walls, an indicator that the capsule might have access to more breathable air. But despite his acute need for it, he didn’t dare turn any of the levers. Activating the wrong gas mix would be just as fatal as asphyxiation. He needed to be able to see the indicators and controls in order to pump in the right combination of heliox to survive.
And then he remembered what he had and felt foolish. Reaching for his belt pouch, he took out another glowstick, snapped the middle, and shook it. The neon glow instantly cast a dim, greenish hue around the small chamber.
Gordon was right. He had managed to get in through a bottom hatch. With the habitat’s internal pressure having been equalized with the outside, the water didn’t flood into the compartment when he pulled himself through and managed to get his diving helmet off.
He did pass out for an indeterminate amount of time not long after. Looking at his dive watch, Gordon was amazed to realize that more than a day had passed since the time he had lost consciousness. I went out like a light, he thought.
Brandishing the glowstick beside the gauges, Gordon’s newfound hope turned to dismay. Most of the gas canisters were empty except for one. After doing some quick calculations inside his head, he turned several of the levers, allowing a resuscitating mix of fresh air into the chamber. Based on the amount of heliox left in the remaining tank, he figured he had extended his life by just a few more hours.
The hatch leading down towards the first module he had come from had already been sealed, and now he looked at a second hatch by the opposite wall in slight trepidation. If the air pressure in the next capsule wasn’t equalized with his, then he would probably end up dead the moment he opened it. With no other choice, he decided to take the chance as he pulled at the lever to release the lock and pushed at the steel plate.
It quickly gave way, and he was able to slide into the next capsule. This new part of the base contained rows of bunks along the walls, plus the familiar day room that he was used to seeing in the hyperbaric chambers of the diving support vessels he had lived in. Scrounging along the shelves, he did manage to find a small flashlight, which was a godsend.
He turned it on and the device cast a faint narrow beam along the abandoned recesses of the module. A partially opened bottle of water sitting on a table proved to be another fortuitous find, and he eagerly drank all of it, partially quenching his thirst, despite the liquid’s metallic alkaline taste. His exhausted body was craving additional water and food, but he couldn’t find any more consumable supplies within that module.
Shuffling deeper through the day room, he tried to look for some sort of activation switch, but found none. There’s got to be some sort of battery module, he thought. Unless this place was continuously supplied with a power line from a working rig on the surface, I don’t see how anyone could live down here.
His questions were answered the moment he opened the next hatch and slid into the adjoining chamber. The embedded machinery and switches along the walls of this particular module made it resemble some sort of electrical power room. Locating the main circuit breakers on the console, Gordon held his breath as he pulled the switch. There was a slight hum of machinery, and the entire interior lit up as the lights came back on.
Sighing with relief, he looked at the power indicators, but the readings didn’t paint a hopeful picture. He figured there was only enough juice left in the batteries for another few hours before they ran out of charge as well.
Placing his hands flat against the console, Gordon wearily lowered his head. I’ve just bought myself some additional time, but I’ll still be dead if help doesn’t come for me soon.
Hoping to find some sort of communications section, he tried slipping into the next chamber after opening the hatch. When he made it inside the succeeding module, his tired eyes opened wide.
The room he was standing in was some sort of laboratory. There were tables with microscopes, test tubes, and devices that were unfamiliar to him. Transparent cabinets along the walls contained a number of supplies in special, pressure-sealed containers, but not of the medicinal kind. Gordon shuffled around breathlessly as he tried to make sense of the whole place. What the hell were they doing down here?
He made it into the next chamber, and the place seemed very much like the prior one, but now there were a number of flat-screen monitors along the walls, and what looked like a console and chair at the opposite end of the capsule. Gordon took off his still damp diving suit before sitting on the chair and activated the computer.
The desktop menu appeared on the monitor right in front of him. Using the computer mouse, Gordon tried to access a number of subroutines and files, but most of them were password protected, except one virtual folder marked: VIDEOS. With no other options he clicked it open and played the first file.
A smiling, middle-aged woman with flowing black hair and wearing a white lab coat appeared on the screen. “Hello. My name is Dr. Lauren Reeves, and I am the head of Morgenstern’s Project Proteus. With our team’s genetic breakthroughs over the last four years, our esteemed sponsor, Mr. Kazimir Morgenstern, has decided to expand the project in a completely new direction.”
A pale Asian man with disheveled hair suddenly appeared in the video, and sat himself down beside Dr. Reeves so that they were both in the frame. “Hello,” he said.
Lauren giggled as she gave him a brief sidelong glance. “My shy colleague here is Dr. Hideki Yamamoto, Japan’s premiere genetics researcher and a recent addition to our team. I am most happy to state that he will now be in charge of this latest offshoot of our little project, and we’ve decided to call this one Typhon.”
Despite his hunger and fatigue, Gordon continued to stare at the screen, mesmerized by what he was seeing.
Lauren raised an eyebrow. “Those that are watching this video will ask, why call it Typhon? Well, we simply wanted something classical and titanic, because this project will be even bigger than Proteus. Isn’t that right, Hideki?”
Yamamoto nodded. It seemed he was too shy to stare directly into the camera, so he kept his gaze low, as if looking at something just beyond the viewer’s sight. “Yes it is, Dr. Reeves. We have made great strides in advancement when it comes to splicing different genes together to form new, composite organisms with Project Proteus. And now with the blessing of the company, I am proud to state that this new Project Typhon will dwarf both the size and achievements of what we have done with Proteus.”
Lauren gave a solemn nod. “The reason this will be a much bigger project is simply because of scale. The new organism that Dr. Yamamoto and his team are busy creating will have enormous potential when it comes to military applications. Isn’t that right, Hideki?”