Titanic 2012

David knew the others to all be professionals. Both Will and Lena made the transition from the blown paks to the fresh ones, so that there was no fear of the diver having a sudden loss of suit integrity only to wind up like Jacob or Kelly.

Fiske and Jens, their usual bulging muscles masked by the shapeless Cryo-suits, made a lot of noise coming in through the lock, slapping each other on the back, excited from the fantastic dive inside and through Titanic’s aft section. They spoke of what they’d seen when suddenly their raucous laughter ended. David saw in his rearview mirror that they’d come up on Lou, unconscious from the concussion.

And their next chorusing question was “Where the hell is Dr. Irvin?”

“Dead… she’s gone. Long story. Strap in and I’ll tell you all about it while we make for the surface.”

“And Mendenhall, David, what about Jacob?”

“Yeah, where’s Jacob?”

David sadly told them, “Jacob got himself killed down there. He tore his suit on a sharp object, and I watched him implode.”

“Just like that?” Jens’ tone was accusatory.

Fiske asked, “With all the damage to Lou’s suit, how is it that he didn’t implode?”

“Mostly scrapes, but yeah, Lou’s damn lucky is all.” Get strapped in, gentlemen, and prepare yourselves for de-tox. We still have to drain the whole cabin.”

From the control room, Forbes cut in. “Stop your third degree down there. As I informed you all, Dave Ingles did everything possible at the bow section that could be asked of a man, and besides, he just saved every damn one of you from certain death.”

“Listen up, everyone,” began David, speaking to the two divers still in the water as well. “I’m giving the orders now. I’m taking over for Lou, who is incapacitated.”

“You do intend to wait on Bowman and Gambio, don’t you, Ingles?” asked Fiske, who like Jens had strapped in.

Jens added, “They’re in the airlock now.”

“I’m aware of that. Will you please just help me out back there, you two! Soon as they’re out of the lock and in with us, tell ’em to get seated and strapped in. Dr. Entebbe’s waiting above with an emergency medical team.”

“We’ll do our part but what’s up with Lou?” persisted Steve Jens.

“From his pupil dilation and general unresponsiveness, my guess is internal trauma and a concussion. Won’t really know for sure until we get him out of the suit and onto an operating table.”

“At least the rest of us are alive and well,” commented Fiske. “But you, know, Ingles, there’s gonna be a board of inquiry over the deaths of Mendenhall and Irvin, and I suspect you’re not going to have a career after this.”

“No… no, I don’t expect I will.”

THIRTY FIVE

On entering the sub, Lena Gambio gasped on seeing the pale and unconscious Lou Swigart up close; like the others, she’d heard of the trouble at the bow—two dead and Swigart injured, but she wasn’t prepared to see the virile Swigart unconscious and drooling. “My God! Is Lou… is he dead, too?” Lena asked from behind David.

“No, he’s breathing, you bone head,” replied Jens.

David tried to quell their anxiety. “Lou’s had his head slammed hard against his helmet and a fight with some falling debris, so far as I can tell. Long story. For now, suffice it to say, I cut it rather short to get here in order to get him free.”

“From what little garbled information we could get,” said Bowman, his voice agitated as well, “you witnessed two damned implosions, David. Two!”

Will and Lena had been the last to enter the sub and thankfully without any incident.

Lou then startled them all by filling the sub with, “Thank God every-one-safe-ly- back,” Lou’s groggy half- consciousness riveted the others to him. “All… all but Jacob and Kelly,” Lou added, a deep despondency in his voice.

“What the hell happened out there, Lou?” asked Will Bowman as he and Lena were strapping in. “We could only get bits and pieces over the com-link.”

Lou only groaned in pain, unable to reply.

Both Will and Lena suddenly dropped the idea of strapping in, instead hovering over Lou to ostensibly inspect what appeared far more horrible damage to the man’s suit than it actually was, but David imagined they wanted to hear the facts from Lou and not David Ingles.

“Swigart’s going to make it!” shouted David. “Quit hovering. He’s a tough old seaman. Goes in and out. Best we can do for him is get him to the surface. Now sit down and strap yourselves in!”

“Damn it, David, what happened at the bow section?” demanded Bowman.

“All of you strap the hell in, and I’ll tell you a story—a truth you won’t believe.”

“Irvin tried to kill me.” Lou muttered as the liquid oxygen inside the sub was being diminished and replaced by gaseous oxygen. They must next blow their lungs of residual oxygen-rich flourocarbons—a process no more difficult than intentionally coughing to clear the last vestiges of liquid air, but eons of evolution that’d taken mankind from the sea and gills still managed to dictate to the brain that this was indeed a distressing reversal of logic and anatomy.

“S-She… Irvin… she had so much strength…” continued a weakened Lou. “T-Took me by surprise. You know… let her talk me into all this…”

“Lena,” began David, “you’re closest to Lou back there. Help him out with blowing his lungs, please?”

“Got to get out… get up,” Lena replied, ignoring David’s request. “Got to get outta this tin can… get some real air.” She was saying as if to herself—like a mantra. “Back to the upper world.”

“I’ll take care of Lou,” said Jens, seated the other side of Lou and taking charge behind David. All that was required of Bowman was to take off Lou’s helmet and gently place his head forward and give him a few slaps on the back to clear his lungs. Coughing out as the others were doing would only add to Lou’s head injury.

David indicated he was about to take Max to full speed. Finally, they all found their seats, and everyone had cleared their lungs of all Perflourocarbons, and the sphere was filled with breathable air.

It was then that Lena, who’d kept a specimen net attached to her hip, dropped the bag alongside those of the others who’d entered with nets filled with small artifacts taken from Titanic. David was thinking about how hard this team had worked, and they had a myriad of archeologically significant finds returning with them, whereas he and Lou were just lucky to get out with their lives.

“Gotta get to the surface,” repeated Lena.

“You OK, baby?” Bowman asked her. “Hey, David, I think Lena might be having some kinda panic attack or something. “Hey, you guys monitoring Gambio up there?” he said to Entebbe and Forbes.

Entebbe’s voice came over the com-link. “Lena, you have to calm yourself down, sweetheart. Your vital signs are all over the map.”

David monitored the instruments and controls, acting as captain now, making sure their ascent was less problematic than their derailed visit to Titanic’s bow section. He prepped Max for the trip toward the surface. They needed to know their position in relation to Scorpio, so he checked the dive planes for the best trajectory, not to mention the depth gauge and reactor output. As he checked each off in his mental list, he shouted it out for the others to hear just as Lou would have done. He also checked to be sure their atmosphere was of the correct mix for their depth, which would change as they climbed. He put Jens onto monitoring the pressure gauge which reported back in bars and milli-bars.

“We’re on our way back to a world with light,” remarked Bowman, who, while again seated, could reach out and pat her hand. No one had bothered removing their Cryo-suits so as to remain warm, but everyone aboard Max had removed their head gear.

David realized that the warm glow of panel lights within the cocoon of Max’s now familiar interior felt good to