Counterpoint (51 page)

Williams grabbed up the microphone and
made an announcement. “The US1 will continue, along the
subterranean tunnel in a westerly direction; the navigation team to
be on full alert for any obstructions and narrowing of the tunnel.
The current will rise to about 40 knots, cycling with the ebb and
flow of the tide in both directions.”

The prospect of hurtling along through
an unknown and relatively narrow tunnel at any speed other than a
crawl was frightening. When heading into the full flow, their
maximum, continuous, motor speed would be just above 50 knots
giving them a safe 10-knot reserve for headway.

With the current pushing from behind,
the motor would have to run at just under 40 knots, in reverse, to
maintain forward travel. However the motor had never been tested
above 15 knots in reverse!”

Max approached Captain Williams, and
asked what he had in mind for the manoeuvres, a subtle hint about
escape. The Captain just replied, “We will just have to go with the
flow and see what happens.”

Max walked back to the control panel,
appearing to check the various systems. His mind was racing,
desperately trying to find some plan to get everyone out of the
mess they were in. As he saw it, the crew would have their hands
full trying to control the craft, without wrestling with the
guards, in an attempt to take over the sub.

The air pressure in the cavern had
reduced now, to allow the water level to rise sufficiently to float
the US1. The first indication of buoyancy was the slight rocking of
the vessel followed by a grating and shrieking noise as the sub
moved over the shingle.

The current was about to turn when
Captain Williams ordered reverse motors and the immense vessel slid
out to the centre of the channel. The US1 submerged fifty metres
below the water level, turned and glided forward at two knots, up
the tunnel.

Captain Williams and members of the
crew responsible for controlling the direction and attitude of US1,
put on their virtual reality headsets. The pilot sat elevated above
the floor of his own area where every wall, the floor and ceiling
had a visual display of the outside of the vessel. It was just as
though he was in a sphere of glass travelling along through the
air, not water, in the tunnel. By feeding the results of sensors
and cameras around the hull into the computer, it produced an
enhanced display of everything within range, on the appropriate
display.

The rock walls of the tunnel though
some 1000m away from the hull could be magnified to reveal the
eroded surface. The seabed below was out of visual range, but the
three dimensional image was integrated seamlessly down to the base
of the walls. The species of the occasional fish that darted past
could be clearly identified if close enough, in full colour.

Individual monitors elsewhere could be
switched on by the person viewing, so even the guards close to one
could see the wonders of this unique environment. Everyone was
fascinated by the experience, Gruber was particularly interested,
and he had never imagined the world beneath the sea like this as it
slipped past the ancient hull of his U-boat. Montoya also forgot
about the mission for a while, when he put on the headset, the
danger that lay ahead had been put to the back of his mind as he
gazed around in awe.

As the hours flew by, the speed of the
current had enormously increased; the motor speed adjusted
accordingly, to maintain the same 2-knot headway. In still water,
the sub would actually be travelling some 30 knots.

By this time, the pilot was exhausted
from the intense concentration and Captain Williams ordered his
relief. The changeover of pilots was going to be tricky, for about
15 seconds the vessel would be without proper control. In normal
circumstances, a changeover would not be made at a critical time,
but the whole trip would be critical. As one man climbed out of the
seat, the other climbed in, both holding the joystick as steady as
possible. The sensitive control and the vessel hurtling through the
turbulent water at thirty-two knots would cause it to deviate
wildly at the slightest overcompensation.

A sudden surge of turbulence caused the
new pilot to jerk the stick to the right, slightly before being
strapped into his seat. The bow of the sub lurched to the right as
the strong current caught it. The man overcompensated and it now
swung hard left, throwing him out of the seat. All those members of
the crew who were watching, could see the distant rock wall looming
ever closer as the bow turned towards it. No one knew of the
pilots’ mishap and was stunned at what was happening. They froze at
the sight of approaching death. Max jabbed the override button on
the control panel near him to switch control to the navigation
computer. He knew it was a slim chance at best that the system
would compute a solution in the next few seconds, before the point
of no return, but it was all he could think of. The computer had
always been on line and calculated its responses to the subs
situation as it went. It was intended to compare the results later,
with what the human navigator had done. No one had sufficient
confidence in the system to deal with collision avoidance, when his
or her own lives were at stake. Max also knew that the system could
not defy the laws of physics any more than fitting anti-lock brakes
to a car, and expecting it to stop dead on a sheet of ice.

The speed of the sub’s motors rapidly
climbed to a distant crescendo, and for the first time the massive
vessel shuddered under the load as the propulsion system switched
from the forward thrust to reverse.

The vessel had swung broadside on to
the 30 knot current and was still closing rapidly on the rock face.
The bow planes and ballast tanks were now forcing the bow downwards
in an attempt to avoid collision. Anyone not strapped into their
seats was flung through the air to the side, then, along the floor
towards the bow as the sub increased its dive angle to
vertical.

The sub was just a few meters away from
the rock face, swept along by the current, accelerating downwards
in the attempt to gain speed and stability again. Fortunately, this
part of the chasm was exceptionally deep and to everyone’s relief,
eventually the bow lifted as the sub tried to level out, and head
back up the tunnel again.

After several minutes, the sub had
fully stabilised and was back on course at a colossal rate of 50
knots, a 20 knot headway until it had reached the same point where
the trouble at handover started. Then the speed dropped back to 33
knots, to allow for the rise in current and maintaining the
original 2-knot headway.

The crew would have been happy to just
sit and talk about the close call, none wanting to leave the safety
of their seats, but Max grasped the opportunity of seizing the
weapons of their captors while they were still groggy.

Other crewmembers sprang to help while
others tended to the injured.

Sadly, Captain Williams was
accidentally shot through the head, when a silenced pistol went off
and hit metalwork, during the turns.

Max made his way through the vessel to
find his beloved Carla. Frantically he searched for Ingrid, who
would probably know Carla’s hiding place.

Ingrid was unconscious, but otherwise
not badly injured, lying under some loose equipment that fell on
her, during the dive, so Max looked around for a likely hiding
place. The steel lockers offered a possibility, so he tried them
first. Mike Teal was wedged upright in the narrow space. Max’s
blood ran cold as he looked at the unnatural angle of his head. His
neck was broken. Fear gripped his heart as he wrestled with the
doors on other lockers, why should Carla’s fate be better than
Mike’s?. Max could barely imagine being unexpectedly thrown around
in the slim steel box as the sub had twisted and turned in its
fight to avoid destruction. He found Carla at last. She had a
strong pulse, but was unconscious, her lovely blond hair matted
with clotting blood. Gently he eased her out onto the floor and
checked for the cause of the blood and for other injuries. A deep
gash on her scalp from the metal shelf above her was the only
damage he could find. He dashed to the toilet for a wet towel, so
he could bring her round, and clean her up. A few minutes later,
she gave a groan and opened her lovely deep blue eyes. As she
focused them on Max’s anxious face, she forced a smile and
murmured, “Sorry lover-boy, sex is off tonight, I have a bit of a
headache.”

“Too late,” he said, smiling with
relief, “I have had you already; you slept through it as
usual.”

“Pig!” she answered as she tried to
move. Max helped her up and into the medical bay and laid her on an
examination couch.

“Poor Mike didn’t make it, I’m afraid,
he broke his neck.”

“Oh No!” She cried. “He was one of the
good guys, I will miss him.” Tears formed in her eyes as she
thought of him and the time they were together.

“How is Ingrid?” Carla asked, changing
the subject to something less painful.

“I’m just going back to see to her
now,” replied Max. “She was just unconscious when I left her.” Max
dashed off, reasonably content, now Carla was ok.

The two pilots were badly injured, with
deep cuts and a concussion, from being flung about the toughened
glass room. With no one to navigate the vessel by hand, everyone’s
fate was now with the computer. Although the system came up trumps
and saved lives, still no one wanted to trust it, and an intense
anxiety set in as it ploughed on relentlessly, along the
tunnel.

With all Montoya’s men bound up with
duct tape and under guard, at least that problem was out of the
way. The next issue was who was in command? With the death of
Captain Williams, the command was being assumed by one of the
officials, a Senator Joe Buck, on the basis he held the rank of
Admiral when he was in the American Navy. No one was particularly
bothered who assumed command as long as he knew what he was doing,
and could get them all safely out of danger and back home. The
first order of business was to turn around and go back, rather than
risk the journey onwards. This proposal was agreed, whole-heartedly
by everyone, except Ingrid. She could see her rise to fame and
glory cut off at the knees.

Joe Buck issued the order to hold
station at this point until the tide turned and the water was
still. They could easily turn round and then head for home. The
command was sent to the navigation computer, and speed dropped
accordingly. It would be three hours until still water, so all
hands set to and repaired the damage, and cleaned up. Meals and
drinks were prepared as well. With everything that had happened, no
one had thought much about food, until now.

Now the water was calm, preparations
were made to implement the turn. Suddenly all on board felt a sort
of giddiness. Seconds later, it turned to a positive low frequency
vibration, of increasing magnitude. This was followed by a deep
rumbling that could even be heard through the sound proofed hull.
The whole vessel was being moved, several inches in every
direction, at about one or two cycles per second. Ingrid screamed
out in terror, “We are in the region of a subterranean earth
tremor!”

With the extreme vibration, the virtual
reality display was totally blurred. As the rumbling built up to
deafening proportions a large cloud of seething bubbles appeared
from behind them and within seconds had engulfed them. Ingrid was
right, of course, but even worse, the seabed under them had burst
open, spewing millions of tons of lava and gasses into the water.
They were sitting in the middle of a vast kettle of boiling water.
As the bubbles hit them, the buoyancy of the water vanished, and
the vessel dropped like a stone in a Jacuzzi.

Down it fell for 10 to 15 seconds, then
suddenly buoyed back up for a fleeting moment, only to fall again.
The lucky ones were able to strap themselves in their seats or to
the beds in the medical bay. Even so, the drop followed by the
violent uplift was tantamount to riding bareback on a wild steer in
a rodeo.

After 20 minutes, they had settled some
1000 meters lower than they started. The air temperature was now
climbing rapidly as the air conditioning and filtration system,
could no longer cope with the hull, immersed in boiling water.
Warning lights and sounders started to go off as circuits
overheated, or sensors failed. One by one, the hull cameras,
sensors and external lights went out. Thai added to the terror of
all on board, as the feeling of claustrophobia swept over the crew.
They could no longer clearly see their surroundings. Were they
about to smash into the rock walls, splitting open the hull and
casting them out, or be engulfed by lava to become entombed for
eternity, in this abyss of hell?

Even worse, the sub was losing its
ability to see its way, without the cameras and sensors, the
navigation computer was ineffective.

Senator Joe Buck was not up to the job
of leading them to safety; darned soon panic would be the final
straw.

Max shouted to Bill Davis, a senior
technician responsible for the propulsion system. “Bill, can you
override the computer control on propulsion to forge ahead out of
this confusion? If we can get into clearer water, the system may
pick up again and get us out of here?”

Bill wanted to get out with every fibre
of his being, so he adjusted controls to increase the speed of the
motors. Faster and faster, the motors whined, but nothing seemed to
happen until bubble free water started filling the propulsion tubes
again. The vessel surged forward and upwards like an electric tram
powered by lightning. The virtual reality display was limited to
just 3 cameras on the upper hull, 2 were forward pointing, and one
to the left; none were suitable for fast forward flight out of
danger.