The response to this accident reflected the level of concern Ghost and his superiors had. It was also a reminder to Gunner that whatever was contained in that cargo hold, it was dangerous. They would have to exercise caution every step of the way.
“Guys, last chance,” Gunner began. “This could be all kinds of FUBAR if things go south.”
Bear leaned on the aft railing and studied the activity on the other ship. He shrugged and turned to Cam.
“Day by day.”
She nodded. “Minute by minute.”
“Ride or die,” added Gunner.
“We stick together,” they said in unison as they exchanged fist bumps. They marched toward the HOV with confidence.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
One Hundred Seventy Miles off the North Coast of Puerto Rico
The Puerto Rico Trench
Depth: 15,000 feet
Fathoms: 2,500
The Deepsea Challenger 6
North Atlantic Ocean
“It’s kinda like droppin’ a hot-air balloon to the ground,” said Bear calmly as he skippered the Deepsea Challenger 6 to the bottom of the Puerto Rico Trench. “Really, the computer does most of the work on the descent and, likewise, when we return topside. The tricky part will be around the wreckage. When I was getting checked out on this thing, they warned me about the odd currents caused by the methane gas spewing out of the vents. I don’t wanna beat us against the sub.”
While they’d waited for the green light to dive, Gunner spent a few moments in the ship’s communications center to talk with an astronaut he’d met at the Houston Space Center. The astronaut, a former Navy SEAL, had undertaken both deep sea dives using the newest generation of exosuits and logged many hours outside the International Space Station. The two talked at length at the similarities and differences, so Gunner had a pretty good idea of what to expect once he exited the DSC-6.
Like spacewalking, being underwater at that depth can be overwhelming at first. You are utterly alone. Certainly, there are crewmates located within the ISS or, in this instance, the DSC-6. But they aren’t by your side, floating, in a world devoid of noise, light, or human interaction. It was peaceful and disconcerting at the same time.
Gunner had spent many hours aboard submarines throughout his career in the military as well as during insertions on special ops. He’d been on board underwater submersibles as well, but nothing like the DSC-6. Once the weather had cleared and they were able to catch the Coast Guard chopper to the Sea Searcher II, Gunner spent more than an hour inspecting the underwater vessel and learning about its operation. He was one hundred percent confident in Bear and Cam’s ability to navigate the HOV around the U-boat wreckage.
He’d inspected the hull when he first approached the submersible and frowned. In a way, he had a submariner’s innate respect for the thick steel hull that protected the occupants from being crushed by the ocean when at depth. One of the Sea Searcher’s crew members noticed Gunner’s look and approached him. He patted the hull of the DSC-6 as he spoke.
“Don’t worry, sir. It’s a special composite. The latest technology has been drawn upon to make this lightweight stuff as strong as many inches of steel.”
Gunner simply nodded his head. “I’ve heard something to that effect before. I kept reminding myself of what the suits told me before my aircraft disintegrated around me.”
“Pilot. Makes sense,” the man began. “I didn’t take you for a sub jockey.”
“Passenger only,” said Gunner, who appreciated the conversation. He pointed toward the Sea Searcher I although it was dark. The few emergency lights on the deck of the emptied ship flickered in the night. “How experienced was the other team?”
“More than you, but honestly, from what I’ve heard, that wasn’t a factor in what happened to them.”
“You don’t think it was user error, in other words.”
“Right. They were poisoned or something. I think it was just a freak accident.”
“Great,” mumbled Gunner.
The young man fell silent, and then his portable radio squawked to life.
“Tango Foxtrot Echo. Cleared to launch. Ready the crew.”
“Roger, Bridge.”
The young man got the Gray Fox team settled in, and forty minutes later, Gunner was deep in thought as he psyched himself up for the mission. His mind wandered to the task at hand. He often wondered why his team was chosen for a particular mission. None of them had ever piloted a submersible of this complexity, much less navigated it to the bottom of the world.
Soon after the Gray Fox team had been assembled and wrapped under the auspices of the Activity, Gunner went to see Dr. Brian Dowling, his psychiatrist at Eglin Air Force Base. He asked the question, “Why me?” The two simple words were not used in the way most people might think. He wasn’t morose or feeling sorry for himself. He simply wanted Dr. Dowling’s opinion as to why he was always chosen for these unusual missions.
Without trying to oversimplify his answer, Dr. Dowling summed it up succinctly. Reliability and results. Dr. Dowling had reminded Gunner at one point that he was a valuable asset, not only to the Department of Defense, but to his country. They were firmly convinced of Gunner’s love for country and commitment to responding to the call of duty. It was more than that. It was his ability to fulfill the most complex of missions put in front of him. There was no one else like him—a combination of education, skills, and experience that could be adapted to these science-based missions.
Gunner recalled spontaneously laughing at Dr. Dowling’s logical explanation. He’d quipped, “At what point do they concoct the impossible mission? The one they think I can do, but can’t.”
“Have they done it so far?” asked the crafty psychiatrist as he answered a question with a question.
Gunner had thought for a moment and then shrugged. “Come to
