Kitabı oku: «At depth», sayfa 5
9. INTRUDER ON BOARD
Three days after Dr. Kayla Fox began examining the recovered find, the submarine «Amphibia XXI» reached a depth of six thousand meters. Following the discovery of the fossil, Captain De Bont decided to reduce speed to a minimum so as not to miss a single object that might be of interest for scientific research.
The paleontologist entered the biological laboratory. He arrived just as Dr. Fox was concluding the interim results of her work.
— Have you managed to determine anything yet? — Tucker asked, rubbing his palms as he approached the table with the microscopes.
— Definitely. Firstly, its age. It is approximately sixty million years old. We should assume that the owner of this ’bone’ was a representative of one of the first species of living organisms that populated the world’s oceans after the asteroid struck the Yucatán Peninsula.
— Hmm. It’s remarkably well-preserved for such a long time. And secondly?
Swiveling left and right in her chair, Kayla spoke as if forcing the words out:
— You know, Tucker, I am forced to doubt that we found a skeletal fragment.
— Elaborate.
For agonizing seconds, Kayla pressed her lips together, as if holding back the announcement of some terrible secret.
— To be brief, the material started to disintegrate after just a few hours.
— Disintegrate? What do you mean? — The paleontologist was wildly perplexed. — I have years of experience. I saw it with my own eyes and can assure you that it was a skeletal fragment.
— You misunderstood — the biologist hastened to reassure him. — It really was a bone. But it began to rapidly crumble the moment the tissue left its aquatic environment. To halt the process, I scraped off a small portion for analysis and submerged the bulk of the material in liquid nitrogen, where it will remain stored until we return to base.
— Then why do you claim that it is not a bone?
Kayla pulled a container with samples of the recovered substance toward her, used tweezers to take out several particles, pressed them between slides, and then placed the samples under the microscope.
— I put them in a solution to reactivate them and see what they look like in a living state.
— Did you say «them»? Who are «they»?
— Why don’t you take a look — Kayla offered, yielding her spot in front of the microscope.
Tucker watched through the eyepiece with genuine interest at the object magnified fifteen hundred times. He didn’t understand much about biology, but that didn’t matter now because something living had been preserved in the ancient deposits.
— What… what is it?
— Most likely, amoebas. Amoebas unknown to modern science.
Tucker himself didn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth:
— They survived tens of millions of years, and now…
The paleontologist interrupted his own speech after accidentally knocking over the container with the samples.
Kayla quickly rinsed Tucker’s hand with rubbing alcohol.
— What was that for?
— We don’t know what these organisms are. It’s better to be safe. They could be parasitic, and I haven’t properly studied them yet. So, we need to maintain strict precautions for now.
— Whatever you say.
Glancing around, Tucker said apologetically:
— Well, I certainly made a mess. Let me help you clean up.
— No! — Kayla snapped. — You must be careful. I’ll do it myself. You can’t just wipe everything down with a wet cloth. Don’t worry about it.
— Alright, then. I apologize for making the mess.
— It’s fine.
— I’ll be going now. Only the Captain and the Engineer are still up there. Everyone else is sleeping. I should probably go too, as there’s no telling day from night down here. No routine whatsoever.
Kayla said nothing, focusing on cleaning up the spilled solution and samples. She thoroughly soaked a bandage with alcohol and wiped down the spilled area, after which she threw the alcohol-soaked bandage into the gas incinerator and burned it. Only a small amount of the material that had been diluted in the chemical solution remained.
Tucker watched this process guiltily, then left the laboratory. Once outside the doorway, the paleontologist felt something wet on his cheek. They were drops of some kind. Out of habit, he wiped them with his palm and headed to his cabin.
As soon as Kayla had eliminated the traces of the solution from the table, she immediately returned to work and continued to examine the samples under the microscope. More than half an hour had passed since she last looked through the eyepiece. Therefore, she still had to find out what exactly Tucker had seen.
Some changes had definitely occurred. The amoebas had begun to develop. Apparently, a process of cell division had started. It was already a complex multicellular organism. What the catalyst was remained unknown. To better understand the nature of the multiplying cells, Kayla used tweezers to pick up a particle of the sample and placed it in a cubic chamber. She then continued to observe the cells, activating the vacuum pump. Her suspicions were confirmed: as soon as the air supply was cut off, the cells stopped showing any activity.
Tucker Hughes had slept for six and a half hours. He felt excellent, experiencing a burst of vitality he hadn’t felt in a long time. Tucker decided to start his day (even though it was probably the dead of night over the ocean) with a cup of strong coffee. But first, he felt the urgent need to empty his bladder of the excess fluid accumulated from the juice, water, green tea, and mineral water he’d consumed.
The washroom was empty at the time. The paleontologist turned on the light and stood over the toilet, wishing to quickly relax his strained prostate. Unfastening his trousers, Tucker glanced down to coordinate his aim. But the moment his gaze dropped, an abrupt tremor shot through him, stemming from the most sensitive spot. The entire back of his right hand was covered in redness in the form of numerous specks. As soon as he rubbed the skin, his palm began to itch savagely. Tucker immediately went to the sink to run cold water over his hand and quell the itching. Inspecting his now-wet palm, Tucker realized things were truly bad. Severe swelling was visible on the skin. Judging by the small, pinprick dots on his wrist and fingers near the first phalanx, the rash was spreading further, moving onto his forearm.
Just a few seconds later, Tucker was frantically banging on the door of the cabin where Dr. Kate Moore was sleeping.
Meanwhile, Kayla Fox made yet another discovery that raised even more questions about the multicellular entity. Taking the container of samples intended for genome sequencing out of the refrigerator, the biologist uncovered a bombshell: the genome contained forty-six chromosomes, arranged in twenty-three pairs. Just like a human’s.
— What exactly were you doing before you went to sleep? — Dr. Moore asked, looking puzzled as she examined Tucker in the infirmary.
— Nothing out of the ordinary.
— It’s just that you also have a red spot on your cheek. Doesn’t that itch?
Frowning, Tucker raised his left hand to his right cheek. The moment his fingers touched the skin, he instantly felt an intense burning sensation. Due to the discomfort, the paleontologist involuntarily clenched his jaw.
— Easy, easy — Dr. Moore murmured, patting Tucker’s shoulder. — Tucker, lie down on the examination table. Come on. Gently. That’s it.
Tucker obeyed the doctor’s instructions with effort, slowly leaning his back against the table. Dr. Moore rummaged through the drawers while informing her patient:
— I’m going to give you a painkiller now, but you are not to get up. In half an hour, I’ll need to give you another injection, which will be an antibiotic. Before the first shot, I’ll take a blood sample to understand what’s happening in your body. My suspicion is that this is some kind of infection. I have no way of determining the incubation period, but the rash appeared and progressed far too rapidly. Few things can manifest so sharply over just seven hours of sleep. I might adjust the treatment after the analysis. In any case, you are not leaving my sight. Do you understand?
Still tightly squeezing his eyes shut against the discomfort, Tucker nodded affirmatively.
Two hours had passed since the paleontologist fell asleep under the effect of the third injection. Meanwhile, Kayla Fox had lost count of the experiments she was running to study the nature and behavior of the cells. Not long ago, she had mixed samples of the find with a drop of her own blood. The foreign microbe began creating its own copies, which initiated the process of cell division. At the same time, the parent cell itself maintained its original state. But what she was about to discover filled Kayla with mixed emotions. On the one hand, she was overwhelmed by the realization of how little modern science knew about these living organisms. On the other hand, the thought of what might happen if the fusion of the deep-sea cells with human cells occurred not under a microscope but inside a human being sent shivers down her spine..
Observing the reaction of the ancient cells to the human cells under a light microscope, Kayla discovered that, upon making contact, the centromeres of the chromosomes from both samples began to separate, and the chromatids pulled apart, subsequently fusing with the chromatids of the foreign cell. The DNA of the human and the unknown creature had merged. Before Kayla’s eyes, a cell of a new organism was formed: a hybrid of a human and a creature unknown to science.
What would the full organism look like? — Kayla wondered, almost aloud, pressing her fingers to her chin.
Tucker woke up. A couple of meters from the examination table where he lay, Dr. Moore sat with a puzzled grimace on her face. Noticing the movement on the table, Kate asked:
— How are you feeling?
The paleontologist tried to touch his affected hand, when he suddenly noticed that both his hands were restrained by straps.
— I’ll unstrap you, but please don’t touch the spots. I strapped you in so that the spots wouldn’t accidentally press against anything while you slept.
After being freed from the restraints, Tucker looked at his palm. The redness remained, but the swelling had subsided.
— Tucker, I’m going to gently touch your hand with the tip of my finger. Tell me immediately if you feel a reaction. Agreed?
Tucker nodded silently, his anxious gaze fixed on his own hand.
Dr. Moore pressed her index finger lightly against the skin, increasing the pressure slightly each time. The paleontologist felt no pain. The same lack of reaction was observed on his cheek.
— Do you mind if I draw a little more of your blood?
Tucker remained silent, responding only with nods.
There was a knock at the door. It was Dr. Moore.
— Kayla, are you terribly busy?
— No, not particularly.
— Could you help me with something? Mr. Hughes has been feeling unwell. These are samples of his blood. Would you take a look?
— No problem.
For about a minute, Kayla examined the samples under the microscope, her mouth agape. Her lips remained parted even after she took her eyes away from the eyepieces.
— Do you happen to know what these particles are? — Dr. Moore asked. — Have you ever encountered anything like this in your practice?
Kayla thought about the hybrid cell she had left in the refrigerator. Then she looked at Dr. Moore and replied, striving to project indifference:
— Never.
— Tucker, is it possible you ate something that the others haven’t tried?
The paleontologist vigorously racked his brain and remembered his favorite snack.
— I opened a fresh package of dried fruit. But that was on the very first day, when we were just getting settled here.
Dr. Moore immediately shot up from her seat, rushing to warn the rest of the crew not to touch the packages of dried fruit. Up until that moment, Tucker Hughes remained the only person who had consumed them.
After reviewing the paleontologist’s blood samples, Kayla ran an analysis on her own blood. She considered it critically necessary, if only for her peace of mind. Her blood was clear of any foreign microorganisms. From then on, the biologist decided to work exclusively in a fully closed lab coat with the sleeves tucked into her gloves.
Nothing conclusive was found in the dried fruit, with the exception of several types of minor parasites that cause no serious complications and are treated quite quickly. But Dr. Moore was not even concerned with how harmful bacteria could have gotten into the packets in the first place. She was still preoccupied with the origin of the suspicious particles in her patient’s body and how to eradicate them.
The latest blood test showed a significant decline in foreign particle activity, which coincided with the disappearance of the rash. Although Tucker’s condition had returned to normal, the unfamiliar microbes still lingered in his bloodstream.
Without even knowing whether the infection could be transmitted by airborne droplets or otherwise, Kate did not remove her mask until she was certain that no other crew members were reporting illness. Nevertheless, she decided to err on the side of caution and place Tucker in isolation, cutting off contact with the rest of the crew.
Now she faced the long task of studying the microbe and how it might affect Tucker’s body in the future.
The control room was empty. First Officer Morgan Sinclair remained on duty in front of the screens. Slumping into the Captain’s chair, a satisfied grimace on his face, he imagined that one day he would be just as effective at giving orders to subordinates as Luther de Bont, whom the First Officer respected immensely and strove to emulate in every way. Whenever Captain De Bont had previously left service on a military submarine, Morgan would not hesitate for a second to submit his resignation immediately afterward, as he firmly believed that any new captain following De Bont would seem like a second-rate imitation of an officer, incapable of demonstrating the worthy example of a true naval serviceman. Thus, after the first voyage with Captain De Bont, Morgan refused to serve under the command of any other person.
It was a great honor for him to sit in his captain’s chair. So intoxicating that Morgan involuntarily began to doze, and this semi-sleep continued until a «ping… ping… ping…» echoed in the control room. The First Officer woke up startled and rushed to the sonar. The screen was blank.
Morgan checked the instrument readings. The Amphibia had already reached a depth of seven thousand meters and was beginning to enter the abyssal zone of the Atlantic.
To ward off the urge to sleep, the First Officer stepped away for a couple of minutes to the washroom. A brief walk, emptying his bladder, and splashing his hands with cool water would be most welcome.
The control room was briefly empty. The sonar displayed a small dot in the very center of the screen, against a black, deserted circle. A green contact briefly flashed on the northern boundary, accompanied by a short «ping…» sound. A second later, the dot changed location, appearing slightly closer to the center of the screen, which represented the Amphibia. The next displacement occurred to the southeast, then east, and back to the northeast, returning to the edge of the screen.
At that moment, Morgan exited the washroom, slowly returning to the control room. The instruments recorded no external activity.
10. INTRUDER IN THE WATER
— Well, what have we got? — Captain De Bont asked, stretching after a sound sleep as he strode confidently through the control room.
— There was something, Captain — the First Officer replied in a half-asleep voice.
— And elaborate on that point — the Captain threw out, intrigued, as he sat down in his chair.
Morgan rubbed his chin, considering where to start.
— I started to doze off at my post yesterday. But, Captain, it only lasted a second. I swear.
With a clear grimace, Captain De Bont signaled that this part of the story was of little interest to him and gestured impatiently for him to proceed to the main part.
— I thought I heard the sonar ping. I looked at the screen, and it was blank. Then I quickly ran to the washroom, came back, and half an hour later some damn thing actually appeared on the screen.
— Seriously? — Henry asked, surprised, having approached unnoticed.
— Yes, seriously. I was so engrossed by this thing that I didn’t even think to go to the holo-platform and find out what it was.
— And what was so engrossing about it?
— It was huge. Almost as big as our sub. I didn’t look at the exact readings, but the signature on the screen was a decent size.
— Maybe someone else’s submarines can dive to such depths? — Henry suggested.
— I don’t think so — the Captain snapped.
— It’s not a sub — the First Officer insisted.
— What makes you so sure?
Morgan remained silent for a few seconds, mouth open, then finally said:
— The speed was too jerky. It changed instantaneously. And for a sub, it was turning far too sharply. Almost on the spot.
After some deliberation, the Captain decided:
— We’ll proceed as follows. Morgan, activate the floodlight cameras all over the hull. Every single one. Start video recording. We will document everything that happens around us. Henry, you activate the holo-platform and leave it operational. We might run into our mysterious guest again. And one more thing: starting today, the three of us will maintain watch. It’s my turn now. Henry will be next. We’ll stick to this rotation for forty-eight hours, and then we’ll re-evaluate.
— Aye, Captain — Morgan saluted.
— Yes, sir — Henry replied, imagining himself as a member of a military submarine crew.
Before his watch began, Henry went to the engine room to perform equipment diagnostics.
During the eight hours of his watch, Captain De Bont left his post only twice for a quick restroom break, and upon his return, he checked the video recordings from the cameras for the time he was absent, all while listening intently to the silence of the sonar. The Captain found nothing during his eight-hour watch.
It was Henry’s turn.
Tucker’s health had significantly improved. All external signs pointed to a healthy condition. Dr. Kate Moore checked his pupils, listened to his heart and lungs, measured his temperature, oxygen saturation, and blood pressure, and tested his abdominal sensitivity and nervous system response by applying finger pressure. There were no physical abnormalities. Yet, the unknown microbes still remained in his bloodstream.
— Miss Moore, I’m healthy as an ox, I’m telling you.
— Tucker, your physical condition doesn’t tell the whole story. I am a highly experienced doctor. What I see under the microscope in your blood should not be there. I understand that it is unpleasant for you to be here around the clock, and this cannot continue indefinitely. So, let’s make a deal. Ten hours have passed since your last injection; I will not administer any more antibiotics or any other medications; if the next twelve hours pass without incident, you will be free to go. Does that arrangement suit you?
Sighing heavily, Tucker nodded affirmatively.
Like a zombie, Henry watched the sonar screen. A sizable contact was moving within a two-hundred-meter radius. He rushed to the holographic platform and zoomed out the image. A black parallelepiped was moving toward the Amphibia on the three-dimensional map. When the distance between the submarine and the object on the sonar closed to one hundred meters, Henry glanced at the monitor, trying to see something through the hull cameras. Suddenly, the interval between the sonar pings noticeably decreased. The control room was filled with rapid sounds, signaling the approach of the unknown object:
PING!!! PING!!! PING!!! PING!..
The distance shrank to fifty meters. The rectangular shape on the holo-platform nearly touched the Amphibia’s 3D hologram. Distance thirty meters. Twenty meters. Ten.
An ear-splitting, metal-on-metal screech erupted from the Amphibia’s bow. A split second later, a slight vibration filled the entire submarine. The piercing sound intensified, and with it, the vibration grew, reaching such force that Henry, attempting to reach the intercom to call the Captain, lost his footing. He slammed against the fire safety locker, hitting his temple on the fire extinguisher. The control room was filled with the voice of the onboard computer:
— Warning! Collision! Warning!..
The epicenter of the vibration shifted closer to the stern with every passing second. The entire interior cladding rattled violently. The numbers reflecting the heading on the display changed ceaselessly. Under the influence of the unknown source of pressure, the Amphibia was being wrenched sideways. The submarine rolled to starboard, the bow trim decreased, and due to the hull’s displacement, the heading was warped by eleven degrees. Everything that was not secured inside the sub crashed to the deck.
Barely able to remain upright, fighting the bone-shaking vibration, Captain De Bont rushed to the post.
— Henry!? Henry!?
His shouts were almost drowned out by the thunderous noise filling all compartments of the Amphibia.
The vibration and noise suddenly and sharply subsided. The Captain found the engineer on the deck near the fire safety locker. Henry was conscious, with an open wound visible on his right temple.
Hector and Morgan burst out of their cabin. Noticing their figures, Captain De Bont yelled:
— Get Miss Moore! Now!
The Captain single-handedly lifted Henry from the deck and, slinging the injured man’s left arm over his shoulder, began to drag him toward the infirmary. While Hector ran to fetch the doctor, Morgan took the engineer’s other arm, and together with the Captain, they hastily carried Henry to the infirmary. Just steps from the door, Kate practically leaped out of the infirmary. She immediately took charge, examining the engineer on the fly before asking them to lay him on the examination table.
— What is going on! — Kayla cried, bursting hysterically from her cabin.
The Captain hurried back to the control room, followed closely by the ichthyologist.
— What could that have been? — Hector gasped, his breathing ragged as he ran.
— I hope to find out now.
The Captain’s first action was to rush to the sonar. It was blank. Then Luther ran to the main monitor and began rewinding the video feed. Camera number thirteen, which was mounted near the sail, looked up at an angle and captured something that fell under the edge of the searchlight beam. It was dark and indistinct. Comparing the footage from different cameras, the Captain came to a simple conclusion: the object had approached by moving through a dead zone that the floodlights barely covered.
The ichthyologist asked no further questions after witnessing the video footage with his own eyes.
Only then did the Captain deactivate the collision alarm and return the submersible to its original position, restoring its previous heading. The sonar remained blank. In his next action, Captain De Bont shut off all the floodlights and, after asking the ichthyologist to stay on watch, ran toward the stern himself to assess the damage.
The Captain returned to the infirmary half an hour later.
Henry was sitting up and fully conscious, wincing only slightly from the pain in his temple as Dr. Moore bandaged his head.
— Henry — the Captain addressed him, squatting down and trying to speak as gently as possible. — Can you tell me what it was? Did you manage to see anything on the instruments?
Concentrating with visible effort, the engineer began to explain:
— It—it’s massive. Twenty-six meters long.
— Is it a vessel?
— No, no. The holo-platform only registers the contours of the seabed and technical objects. Submarines, ships, any vehicle within range. A second before the collision, I was looking at the holo-platform. It was displaying a black, volumetric rectangle. The system couldn’t recognize the object. It’s only incapable of identifying something if it has a natural origin. Purely organic.
A prolonged, whistling gasp was heard in the room.
— I would have switched the cameras to thermal imaging mode, but I just didn’t have time. — Suddenly, Henry’s eyes widened, as if in terror, and he whispered with a shudder: — Captain. The reactor!
— I checked. It’s intact.
For a while, the infirmary was plunged into a dead silence.
— Captain, what happens now? — Kayla asked. Her eyes were still wide, still under the influence of her slowly fading state of shock.
— We continue with our work. Everyone fulfills their duties. Until we figure out what that was, we will continue to follow the intended route. — The Captain then turned to the doctor: — Miss Moore, how is our paleontologist doing?
— He feels normal. If there is no deterioration in his health, he will be back on duty today.
— That’s at least one piece of good news.
Morgan stepped forward:
— Captain, may I request permission to take the watch?
Captain De Bont firmly refused:
— No. I’m taking the watch for the next twelve hours.
With these words, the vessel’s commanding officer returned to the control room.
Sitting down in his operational chair, Hector Cage said:
— If you’ll permit me, Captain, I’ll stay here with you for a while.
— You don’t need to ask, Mr. Cage. This is your duty station. You may occupy it whenever and for as long as you wish.
As soon as the situation aboard the Amphibia stabilized, the first thing Kayla did was check the state of the containers in the refrigerator. They were intact, as were the Alpha-1 samples — the name she had decided to give the microorganisms from the fossil recovered from the ocean floor.
Three days had passed since the collision with the unknown object. Amphibia XXI had reached a depth of seven thousand nine hundred meters. First Officer Morgan Sinclair was on watch. Tucker Hughes, who was at least alleviating the monotony of the duty with his conversation, had stepped away to the washroom to comply with the doctor’s order to submit a urine sample every twelve hours.
Usually, one had to peer very closely at the screen segments so as not to miss some deep-sea crab or worm. But at that moment, the First Officer’s gaze fell upon something that barely fit halfway into the field of view of camera number four.
Like a madman, Morgan slammed the touchpad and stopped both engines, then rushed to the intercom to contact the galley, where Captain De Bont, Hector, Kayla, and Henry were tucking into fried chicken and fruit salad.
— Captain! You are needed in the Control Room! Emergency!
The hysterical tone of the First Officer’s voice caused Captain De Bont to leap from his seat, snagging his plate and nearly knocking over a glass of lemonade.
