Counterpoint (52 page)

Max turned to Bill again, “switch over
to manual control when I say!”

Bill nodded. Max released his seatbelt
and staggered along the lurching deck to the pilot’s seat. Climbing
in and quickly belting up, he grasped the joystick and resumed
manual control the moment Bill switched off the computer. No
indicators showed his forward speed, the readouts were just cycling
digits like the symbols on a one-arm bandit. Apart from streams of
steam-filled bubbles that flashed white specks as the sub glided
by, there was nothing but blackness on the working displays. Max
reasoned that if he headed for a rock wall on the left, when he saw
it, he could keep close to it and by running parallel, navigate to
safer water. Sonar was useless, the bubbles and faulty transponders
had seen to that. No, the deliberate error approach was the only
option he could think of, for now.

With his guts knotted with fear and
tension and his eyeballs bulging, he searched the displays
frantically for the slightest indicator of an approaching rock
face. If the US1 was speeding directly towards the rock, there
would be no chance of avoiding a fatal collision. Max knew this,
but prayed he was closing on a near parallel course.

In an instant the rock loomed into
view, the closing angle was quite steep, about 45 degrees, much
worse than he hoped. A quick twist of the joystick grip caused the
sub to start to turn away, but would it be enough? Closer and
closer, the rock came; the smooth but horizontally ridged surface
became clearer and detailed with every second. It would be touch
and go, without a doubt.

Still the slowly turning sub closed on
the rock. It was then that Max knew they were not going to make it,
he could only sit there and brace himself as he watched the
inevitable.

There was not much of a bump as the
10,000 tonne hull kissed the rock wall, but then they said the same
about the Titanic. However the grinding and shrieking of tortured
steel was deafening for nearly a minute and then it stopped. The
silence left everyone petrified as they strained to hear the sound
of water gushing in on them, but it never happened. Slowly, as
their confidence returned, they felt comforted by the quiet hum of
the motors and equipment around them. Max realised, whatever damage
they sustained, they were still watertight and gradually heading
away from the rock face. A minor correction to the steering and
shutting down the motors brought them back parallel as the sub
slowed to a halt. Manoeuvring thrusters maintained their position
and shallow depth, after switching back to computer control.

Max left the pilots seat, feeling
totally drained, his clothes stuck to his body with sweat from the
stress and tension of the collision. He quickly made his way back
to his group of technicians, the tide would be turning in just over
an hour’s time, and somehow the external cameras, sensors and
lights had to be repaired so they could navigate. Max felt sick
with fear at the thought of the surging current thrusting them at
30 knots up the narrow tunnel.

Senator Joe Buck and others believing
they were now safe became loud and animated. The collision was the
perfect excuse for Buck to reassert his authority. What right had
Max to take control of the vessel and put their lives at risk, his
stupid attempt at heroics had nearly split the sub apart? The
others agreed and closed in around Max and Buck. Before Max could
protest and explain, Buck demanded that Max be locked up in a
cabin, out of the way, so the technicians could do their jobs.
Senator Joe Buck would get them out of this mess and back to
safety. The baying mob grabbed Max, ignoring his protests, they
hustled him up to a store room and locked him in.

Bill Davis went white with fear, there
was no way he would stand against the Senator, with that crowd
backing him, but what plan had Joe Buck got, to get them
operational.

The other technicians looked to Bill
for help, he was the senior man there, he should take charge and
come up with a plan, but Bill just looked away at the controls.

Senator Joe Buck turned to Bill and
gave him a withering look, ordering him to get under way as soon as
possible. Bill just sat there; his mind locked in a loop of panic.
He had to obey the Senator, but what should he do, he just couldn’t
think of anything.

“What’s the problem?” Demanded the
Senator.

“We just cannot see to navigate.
“Replied Bill, weakly. “The external lighting, cameras and sensors
are not functioning.”

“You mean that idiot caused all this
damage when he hit the rock face,” yelled Joe Buck, turning purple
with rage.

“No! No! They were already damaged by
the boiling water,” exclaimed Bill.

“Well, he could see alright when he was
at the controls,” thundered Buck.

“Not really, he was navigating by
deliberate error, by considerable skill and luck; he got us to
where we are now, calm water. We owe him our lives,” murmured Bill,
turning his face down to the floor in shame.

After the sub came to a gentle stop,
Carla un-strapped herself from the cot and walked forward to the
control room, to find out what was going on. The collision shook
everyone up and she needed answers. Standing in the doorway, she
heard the commotion and saw Max being forced along to a storeroom
and locked in. Acting like part of the group, she hung back as they
made their way to the control room. Out of sight, she unlocked the
door and let Max out. They then went forward to discuss the
situation. Max explained what he had done, and she looked at him in
amazement. In her mind, Max was not a brilliant car driver let
alone driving a 10,000 tonne experimental submarine. He saw the
look on her face and said indignantly. “I have had lessons you
know,” she grinned cheekily, and he grabbed her close and hugged
her.

“Gosh, I love you so much,” he
whispered in her ear. “But we are in big trouble and I need help
getting the equipment working again,” he explained about the
cameras, lights, and sensors, and the short time left before the
current took hold again.

“What I need you to do is get as many
technicians as you can, who can dive, to come with me outside, and
replace the damaged parts. Speak to Bill, he will understand and
help you.”

“From what I saw,” said Carla, “Bill
won’t be much help!”

“He will,” assured Max, “He is a weak
character, but show him the way and he will do what needs to be
done.”

“OK!” She said and slipped away to talk
with Bill.

Joe Buck was holding a conference,
discussing options and trying to come up with a plan. Any good
workable plan would do, as long as it was his. Bill and his fellow
technicians tried to explain what the problems were, but Buck was
only interested in solutions.

Carla took Bill to one side and told
him what Max had said. Bill could see it made perfect sense, but
could only argue about the enormous personal risk to the divers.
“You will die for certain in here,” she countered. “At least you
control your own fate out there and stand a good chance of living
another day.”

She was right, thought Bill.

“OK! I’ll get my men together and get
this job done,” he said resolutely, the sound of his own voice,
strong and determined, overcame any lingering self-doubt.

“Max will join you at the pointy end
and go with you outside, so will I,” she stressed.

“I’ll tell you what to do as we go,
then,” Bill replied.

Unnoticed by Buck and his supporters,
Bill and six technicians went forward to the access chambers. Two
other technicians brought the replacement electronic equipment as
the dive team donned their dive gear. It was decided to use mixed
gasses regulated by haemoglobin-sensors inserted into an ear lobe.
The signals were then interpreted by a computer, attached to
motorised valves on their breathing apparatus.

All the electronic devices outside the
hull were easily replaced. A simple clip held them in place within
a very thick glass tube. Electric current passed to the device by
magnetic induction, as Bill explained to Carla. “It was a bit like
charging your toothbrush when you placed it on its stand. Signals
from the device were transmitted through the glass to detectors
inside the hull, just like a television remote control.”

There were forty device clusters to
replace along the hull and each member of the eight divers would
deal with five replacements. Defective device clusters would emit
red light, working ones would not. Bill ordered the strongest
swimmers to head for the rear. “It is a bloody long way to swim,
but there is no other way. The priority is the front, these must be
done at all costs , so Jim and I will go to the bow, Max and Carla
you must do the ones from the hatch, forward, and don’t forget, the
ones under the hull are slightly less important at this time if the
current forces us to return before completing.”

The four divers heading to the stern
entered the chamber first, 15 minutes had ticked by already, and
just one hour of safe time remained. Another 5 minutes later and
the last four divers entered the chamber, each sick with fear,
wondering what it would be like outside.

The water flooded into the chamber,
swirling around their feet like extremely hot bath water, in the
bright lit steel tank, rising rapidly around them, suffocating as
it crept higher, past their face plates.

The pitch blackness outside when the
steel door to the chamber swung open, the deafening low pitched
rumble from hell’s gateway below, rooted all the divers to the spot
with fear. The bright, safe light in the chamber offered comfort
and protection, whereas out there in the blackness it was
terrifying.

Max launched himself through the
opening, turned and beckoned the others to follow. Way below on the
seabed the occasional dull red glow of spewing lava glimmered as
the long jagged gash in the chasm floor opened and closed.

The others joined him and with a great
sense of urgency, set off to complete their tasks.

Everyone quickly succumbed to the
oppressive hot water and unzipped their protective rubber suits as
they swam. The frequent icy swirl of tortured water was a
bittersweet pain and relief, just enough to keep them going.

The divers at the stern reached the far
end in record time; they were exhausted though dragging their large
bags of replacement electronics and had consumed a lot of air. They
split up, one above the hull, one below and the other two, one each
side. Slowly they swam back looking for the small red light from
defective units. None of them heard the explosion from the front of
the US1, over the rumble from below!

Bill left Max and Carla near the hatch
and swam off with Jim Boswell towards the bow. Jim chose the left
side of the sub and Bill took the right. The hot water caused the
gasses in the fully filled cylinders to expand way beyond their
safe pressure limit. Those divers that consumed air quickly either
due to exertion, or fear, had reduced the volume of gas before it
overheated and kept the cylinder pressure at a safer level. Jim was
young, fit and fearless, also an experienced diver. His main
cylinder exploded with no warning. The large metal chunks from the
exploding cylinder shredded his lean body like a grenade, leaving a
large cloud of blood and entrails hanging in the water. No one
heard or saw what happened except poor Jim. His brain instantly
registered the disintegration of his torso, and the thick,
smothering blackness that closed in on him, as he slowly sank
towards hell itself.

Swirling currents soon carried the
smell of fresh blood, away into the endless blackness, up the
tunnel. The flow of the current had turned.

The process of replacing the devices
was so easy. The red light illuminated the surround to the glass
device housing, a quick thrust of a tool like a blunt screwdriver
into a matching hole and out popped the device on a captive spring.
The new device aligned easily on a key way, and easily pushed home
with a final click. About a second later, the red light went out
and that part of the display, restored in the control room.

As soon as each diver had used up his
five devices, he returned to the chamber and waited for his part of
the team. When four had arrived, they re-entered the sub. Max and
Carla finished first, then Bill. They grew concerned for Jim, long
before one of the stern team appeared in the chamber, but decided
to wait for Jim in the sub. The other three then returned as soon
as the chamber re-opened. Max asked Bill to check what devices were
still faulty.

“All the units Jim was replacing,”
replied Bill grimly; a quick look at all the working monitors gave
no hint of Jim’s fate.

“He might be out of sight in his
sector,” suggested one of the technicians, responsible for the
stern repairs.

Everyone murmured hopeful agreement,
but knew deep down it was very unlikely. Not wishing to be
heartless, Max pointed out that Jim’s area was still blind, the
units still had to be replaced.

“I will go back out and replace them
and find Jim if he is there,” asserted Max. “Get me more units and
I will kit up again.”

They all wanted Jim back safe, they all
knew the units had to be replaced; no one wanted to go back out
again, anything but out there.

Carla started to kit up as well; she
could not face it, really, and hoped someone else would volunteer,
so Max could stay with her, safe.

The truth was, no one was that stupid,
Max said he would go, so let him!

“Bill, while we are outside, watch the
current and the vessels drift. Do you think one of the Pilots might
be up to keeping us clear of the tunnel walls or do you think we
had better rely on the computer, now we have most of the sensors
working?”