Boundary (Field Book 3) Page 10

  “Got it!” Roy shouted, ahead of his return, “Damn!”

  The rechargeable batteries were shrink-wrapped together for ease of swapping, but Roy knew he’d need to separate out the individual cells to achieve the correct voltage for the Biomag. He bit into the plastic in an attempt to weaken it enough for his fingernails to tear, but the material was too tough. He dashed over to the Emergency Biomag box and plunged his elbow through the glass, creating several useful shards. He picked up a thin sliver and, ignoring the sharp edges digging into his palm and fingers, cut away at the plastic to expose the individual cells within. Thankfully, he thought, there was a short section of copper wiring inside the pack; he’d be able to use it to step down the pack’s power output.

  “Voltage is too high,” he called out, as he returned to the cluster of people surrounding Gail, “Give me a sec.”

  While Roy worked to rewire the battery pack, Trevor focussed on the nanocomposite crystal that stood proud of the Biomag’s surface.

  “OK, Gail, it looks like the resonator crystal’s still intact,” Trevor smiled at her, trying his best to convey optimism, “but I need to open the Biomag up, so you’ve got to stay still. OK?”

  Gail provided a miniscule nod of the head.

  “OK, good. Now listen up,” he looked around at the others, “After I open the Biomag case and disconnect the failing battery, the unit’s going to switch to capacitor backup for a few seconds and it’s gonna buzz like hell to tell us what we already know. Don’t freak out.”

  As Trevor began to prise the case apart along the edge, silent tears streamed down Gail’s face. When the Biomag tone dropped again, she began to tremble.

  “Almost there,” Trevor said quietly, “Everything’s going to be fine.”

  Gently he prised open the box, dividing it in two.

  One half held the green coloured printed circuit boards, its flat surface dotted in places with the black squares of control chips. The other half contained a palm-sized metallic loop; anchored within a circular indentation, the loop’s shiny surface was interrupted at one point by the presence of the resonator crystal.

  “OK, Gail, this is good,” he made eye contact, “Everything looks intact, it’s just the power supply, OK? And we can fix that.”

  “OK, it’s stepped down to nine volts,” said Roy, presenting a bloodstained battery pack.

  “Great, Roy, now you see the negative rail of the Biomag’s PSU?” Trevor struggled to indicate the relevant terminal using only his little finger, “Just next to the -”

  “Yep, got it,” Roy reached through the tightly knit group of people and wrapped the exposed copper wire of his battery pack around the terminal several times.

  “OK good, now you’ll need to physically disconnect the positive side of the Biomag’s PSU. Then wait a second before completing the circuit with your nine-volter, alright? OK get ready everybody.”

  Trevor noticeably squared himself up in anticipation, causing the others next to him to shuffle uncomfortably, “OK, Gail, here we go.”

  Without warning, the Biomag’s tone suddenly died; the internal power supply had failed. Roy knew that the unit’s capacitor backup should have activated, along with the warning buzz that Trevor had warned them of; however the unit stayed silent. Acting almost instinctively, he rapidly pinched the second wire to the positive terminal, then held it in place with his finger and thumb.

  “What are you -?” Trevor began, in panic.

  “Capacitor’s fried!” Roy shot back, “The power’s gone!”

  The Biomag quietly emitted a double beep.

  Trevor carefully turned over one half of the Biomag. In blocky letters, the digital display embedded in the surface flashed:

  ‘8oot’

  Trevor let out a sigh of relief.

  “Boot,” he breathed, “It’s rebooting.”

  A few seconds later the display simply showed ‘1200’; the Biomag was measuring the presence of a Chronomagnetic Field gradient of 1200 to 1.

  “Everyone,” said Trevor, quietly, “You can breathe again. Gail, you’re re-anchored.”

  Around the group, general sighs of relief accompanied Gail’s tears of happiness. No-one made any attempt to move away from their hastily improvised cluster.

  “Roy, don’t let go of that wire,” Trevor shook his head in amazement, “that was quick thinking.”

  “Well you said the capacitor would trigger the buzz-”

  “No, I meant about the constructive interference. I should’ve got there sooner, but you -”

  “Not just me. This was definitely a team effort,” Roy looked around at the tight-knit cluster surrounding Gail, “When we stick together, we literally reinforce each other’s strength.”

  There were a few appreciative laughs of relief at the analogy and they began to relax slightly. At that moment, Caroline Smith dashed across the Observation Deck floor towards them; evidently, upon seeing the drama unfold, someone had run to alert the Node’s doctor. In addition to her medical bag, she carried a plastic-wrapped Biomag and a worried expression.

  “Who’s hurt?” she called.

  “I’m OK!” Gail finally found her voice, but then turned to Trevor for confirmation, “Right?”

  “Let’s get that new Biomag round your neck, but yeah,” he nodded, pulling the new Biomag out of the bag and activating it. He unwound its thin chain and looped it over her head.

  The new unit finished booting up and displayed the number ‘1200’.

  “Can I let go of this terminal now?” said Roy, who had been diligently holding the wires that was keeping the old Biomag alive.

  Trevor checked the new unit one last time then told him it was safe. After Roy had untangled himself from the wires and other people’s arms he stepped aside and allowed the doctor to treat him. As the doctor cleaned and glued his cuts, he watched as the group collectively took a tentative step away from Gail, who remained in one piece.

  “What happened?” said Caroline, dabbing efficiently at his palm.

  “The backup capacitor just… failed,” he frowned, “But why that would trigger a -”

  “I meant your hand,” she shook her head, “The last time I patched up this hand was after the Mark 3 fire.”

  Roy could still remember the burns he’d received from the white-hot handle of the Mark 3 airlock. His attempt to get Douglas Walker and Anna Bergstrom out, had removed several layers of skin and also left him with permanent nerve damage.

  “Yeah, I remember, but you know what? It actually helped,” he gestured to the shards of glass he’d used to cut through the plastic of the DRB power pack, “If I’d been able to feel the sharp glass, I couldn’t have gripped it hard enough to cut through the shrink-wrap. We wouldn’t have got the right voltage for the Biomag, and the Node would now be missing its Chief Astronomer. So, all in all… I think it worked out pretty well.”

  “Gail Armstrong has a lot to thank you for,” Caroline finished applying the last sticking suture, “I, on the other hand, will not thank you for continued visits to the infirmary.”

  “Speaking of which,” Roy pointed loosely in the direction of the infirmary, “is there any news?”

  “Kate Walker?” Caroline shook her head, “She’s still out cold.”

  “She’s got to pull through,” Roy stared at her, “we owe her. If she hadn’t made the connection between -”

  “I know,” Caroline pacified him, “I want her to pull though too. I’ve made her as comfortable as possible, but she’ll only come back to us when she’s ready.”

  “We’ve lost enough people already,” Roy turned toward the observation window and the dedication stone beyond, “No more.”

  The first tsunami event had taken a ragged bite from the long dedication stone, removing its upper-left quarter. The lower portions, bearing the names of the dead, had survived intact; an irony not lost on those within the Node. But of the upper portion, only half of the dedication message remained. Split across two lines of chiselled s
tone, the words now read:

  ‘-ARK IV’

  ‘- for the good of Mankind’

  Beyond the Field, the sea level continued to rise, submerging the names of the dead.

  ZERO FOUR FIVE

  13th April 2014

  Over the past few months, Tristan had watched the pressure gauge readings increase aboard the Sea-Bass. The datum sea levels were rising.

  In the immediate aftermath of the seven lunar shards that had hit the Earth, there were inevitable tsunamis, but it didn’t explain the general shift towards deeper oceans.

  He’d discussed the idea with the crew that the additional water may be a result of ringwoodite layers seismically rupturing deep below the ocean beds. He’d even outlined how the magnesium silicate was suited to containing the key components for water within its crystalline structure. But for the crew, hydrogen-oxygen bonding didn’t hold the same fascination; life under the sea brought more immediate challenges than academic analysis.

  Tristan checked the compass direction again. In the vicinity of the ice anomaly, Earth’s magnetic field was being distorted. As far as the anomaly was concerned, magnetic north now lay directly northeast.

  “Bearing Zero Four Five,” Tristan confirmed, “Mat, take the helm.”

  Mat laughed, but then spotted Tristan’s expression was not one of amusement.

  “Are you insane?” Mat looked around the others to see if they’d had similar thoughts, “You wanna follow directions from the creepy ice loop?”

  “Of course not,” Tristan shrugged.

  “Bullshit, Tris, I know that look,” Mat folded his arms, “and I’m not playing.”

  “Look. Come here,” Tristan beckoned them, “Everyone.”

  The others grudgingly joined him at the wide bubble window.

  “Look at the edges,” he said, pointing at the anomaly.

  “There’s not a straight edge on it, Tris,” Lucy delivered in monotone.

  “OK, sorry. Look carefully at the seawater immediately behind any part of the visible structure. You see that shimmering?”

  Pavna edged forwards slightly to gain a better look.

  “The shifting index of refraction within the water?” she said, “We saw that when we first arrived. The temperature differential’s tied to the density of the seawater, like a desert mirage.”

  “Yep,” Tristan said.

  “What’s your point?” Pavna turned to him.

  “How long have we been here, Pav?” he asked rhetorically, “Maybe twenty minutes? Half an hour at most?”

  “Twenty-three,” Lucy checked her watch, “And?”

  “OK, twenty-three minutes,” he glanced sideways at Lucy, “This anomaly arrived before we did. With so much mass, the water surrounding it should already have started to freeze.”

  “You’re right,” Mat frowned and moved in too, pointing at the main sphere, “We should at least be seeing some sort of… random ice growths sprouting from the surfaces, but -”

  “It looks just the same as when we first arrived,” Pavna concluded, “it still looks brand new.”

  She narrowed her eyes at Tristan.

  “You don’t think the distortion effect is anything to do with refractive index, do you?”

  Tristan shook his head, “I think we need to take a closer look.”

  “Tris,” Lucy exhaled hard, “we’re not a science vessel, we’re not equip-”

  “Lucy,” he countered, “there are no science vessels anymore.”

  “All I’m saying,” Lucy held up her hands, “is that we should peg its location, head back to the Arc and -”

  “And do what exactly?” Mat cut in, “Tell ‘em we’ve been seeing Exordi Nova symbols on the sea floor? They’d have us committed.”

  “Or executed,” Pavna looked anxiously between the others.

  Tristan looked out at the anomaly.

  “This…” he turned back to face them, “This is for us. We need to find out more. What else have we got waiting for us? More passenger manifests? The Sea-Bass is practically empty at the minute, there’s never been a better time.”

  “Another coincidence?” Mat raised an eyebrow.

  Tristan just smiled, then raised his right hand, “I vote we investigate. Mat?”

  “I guess a little extra data couldn’t hurt, right?” Mat raised his hand too.

  “An hour, tops. OK?” Lucy shook her head, “Then we turn around and resume course. Agreed?”

  “Fair enough,” Tristan conceded.

  Lucy nodded and raised her hand in consent.

  “Pavna?” Tristan turned to her.

  “I know it’s pointless arguing,” she said, raising her hand, “But I’m with Lucy on this, an hour tops, OK?”

  Having voted to investigate rather than leave immediately, the crew took up their stations and Mat manoeuvred the submarine into position directly above the icy symbol. At Tristan’s insistence, he aligned the Sea-Bass to lie along the anomaly’s lines of magnetic flux; the new local south was situated at the stern and the local north was at the bow outside the bubble window, where the icy sphere filled the view.

  “Holding steady on bearing Zero Four Five,” Mat reported, then half laughed, “Due… north.”

  “Initiate sonar pulse,” Tristan turned to Pavna.

  “Pulse,” she reported, as the hollow sonar ping rang out. It returned a fraction of a second later, producing an acoustic image of their immediate surroundings on the display surface. The plan view showed the Sea-Bass sitting neatly within the main circle, aligned with the anomaly’s line of symmetry.

  “Station keeping?” Tristan called out.

  “Ten feet above, plus or minus an inch,” Mat replied.

  “Lucy, any relative temperature change?”

  “No,” she shook her head.

  Tristan rubbed at his chin; the anomaly was remaining in place above the seabed, apparently unaided, and yet the manoeuvring jets were being taxed against the subsurface currents.

  “Pav, start a continuous ping rate, one hertz. Lucy, watch our temperature and hull pressure. Mat, slowly take us down.”

  There was a noticeable intake of breath before they complied, then Tristan felt the slight shift under his feet as the submarine began to drop through the seawater.

  “Descent,” reported Mat, “Ten feet… Eight…”

  The sonar began generating an audible ping once each second.

  “Still centred,” Pavna reported.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” Mat replied without taking his eyes from the controls, “Six feet…”

  “Lucy?” Tristan continued to stare out of the bubble window at the sphere that was slowly rising through the view.

  “No change in relative density or temperature. Hull pressure stable.”

  “Five feet… Four feet… approaching lateral level of the ring,” Mat called out, “How am I looking Pav?”

  The sonar ping returned once more.

  “Minor starboard drift,” she read out, “still within tolerance.”

  “All nominal here,” Lucy called out.

  “Two feet… One…”

  “Dead centre,” Pavna confirmed.

  The manoeuvring jets were now audible as a minor vibration in the hull.

  “Zero. Level with the ring!” Mat called out, “But we can’t stay for too long like this, mano-jets are maxed out just keeping us here.”

  “Lucy,” Tristan moved to the display surface, “How’s the magnetic field strength?”

  “Increased,” she pointed to the lines of magnetism that appeared to be flowing around the diagram of the Sea-Bass, “but we’re closer than we were before.”

  “OK, Mat can you hold us stead-” Tristan stopped speaking. Instinctively he knew something was amiss but it took him a second to identify it. The sonar pulses that had continued throughout their descent, were no longer being returned. He crossed to the window again and looked at the hemisphere of ice towering above them, and the equal mass that was below them
. The manoeuvring jet noise vibrating through the hull seemed to be growing stronger.

  “Mat, cut the mano-jets,” Tristan called.

  “What!” he called back, “The current’s too strong!”

  “Mat, the jets are -”

  “We’ll smash against the ring!” Mat yelled.

  “Trust me, cut the jets.”

  “I’m not risking this! I’m taking us back up.”

  “Mat, wait! Let go for just one second. If I’m wrong, then get us out of here.”

  Mat seemed to hesitate, then closed his eyes, “You’d better be right about this, wonder-boy.”

  Mat let go of the controls and the manoeuvring jets throttled back. The hull vibration noise ceased immediately and within a few seconds the control room was only occupied by the general background hum they were accustomed to.

  Tristan looked out of the bubble window again, studying the featureless, icy sphere. Relative to the window it was motionless. He glanced left and right to where the circumferential spirals left the sphere. Likewise, there was absolutely no movement.

  “We’re stationary.”

  “What? Did we ground out?” Pavna crossed the small room to consult the feedback from the hull’s impact sensors, “Reading a negative for hull contact.”

  “Son of a…” Mat trailed off, leaving his station and joining Tristan at the window, “We’re stationary? How did you… I mean, it’s impossible…”

  “No, it’s just a possible that we don’t understand yet.”

  In the quiet sub control room, they all simply stared out at the anomaly through the bubble window, each caught in their own thoughts.

  A sudden and loud warning alarm broke the silence.

  “Spike!” Lucy shouted, “Temperature drop - fifty degrees!”

  Mat dashed away in the direction of helm control, but Tristan couldn’t draw his eyes away from the sphere. He was aware of Lucy shouting that the temperature was still dropping, but he continued to stare.

  The sphere beyond the window was expanding.

  ELEMENT

  ~

  Of all the elements, she found it easiest to manipulate hydrogen. It could be classically viewed as a circle, broken in one place by the presence of a single electron, orbiting a single proton.