Part 1: Conversations

Part 1: Conversations

Scene 1: By Land

"Walk with me..."

She closed her eyes and exhaled heavily, as if something would get easier when she did. It didn't, but she stood up anyway. "Okay."

He gave her a reassuring look.

"Amy, you'll do fine. You have been training for this for a long time. This is your big break. This is your chance to shine. Don't let nerves blow it for you."

"I won't, Charlie; I'll shake it off. How much time do I have?" she asked as she pinned up a loose strand of dark hair back away from her face.

"You only have five minutes. You better get ready. Those NASA guys hate to wait," Charlie says with a smile.

She smiled back and moved to leave the room with her old friend. They'd been in this together since the beginning. It was only right that she would spend the last five minutes before the case walking the halls of the Senate building with Charlie instead of alone in a stall of the women's bathroom.

"Well I won't walk in a second early. They might think they control the universe, but I intend to prove otherwise. Do you know who's presiding over this circus act?"

"Senator Petsick."

"Damn."

"I know. But at least he's a horny old b—Joe! How're you?"

She dropped her voice to a low whisper as they started passing people in the hallway. "Stop acting so happy; it makes me look nervous."

"Does my smile give it away?" He was beaming hard enough to give her a mild headache.

"That and the fact that I'm trying to burn holes in your head without looking at you."

"Nah. That just makes it look like you've got a thing for me."

She elbowed him sharply in the ribs. He laughed and winced. She couldn't help but crack a smile.

"That's a little better." He thought to squeeze her hand, but decided against it.

They'd arrived at the massive oak-paneled doors. She touched the dark grain, and her smile went weak.

"Don't, Amy. Don't unless you're going to use it to get to them. And it's a long shot, but…I think you can really kill them good."

She pushed her thumb against the identification panel, her features resetting into the metallic angles of a driven woman. People called it her mask. He knew so much better.

"Trust me," she said with a hint of fire in her whisper.

The door clicked open, and the sound of chairs turning to face the new arrivals leaked out. She looked at him one last time.

"I plan on it."

Scene 2: By Sea

Jason had the unfortunate tendency to be a narrator of his own life. Luckily, he usually knew when talking to himself out loud would be inappropriate, and kept his inner monologue to himself.

“He rounded the corner slowly, even for a man underwater. His cheap and slightly worn airsuit would hold out another half an hour before it started to decay without a jolt of electricity from a hub. The dark ocean was strangely still at this depth, and he felt like his heartbeat would stir the plants. It was as if even the currents had migrated to avoid the storm. If he'd timed it right, he'd be to shore at least fifteen minutes—”at least fifteen, right? Yes. Thank God. “—before the waves got too bad to ride in and barely twenty minutes before the monster of a hurricane really arrived. Without timing, it would all crumble. Or, at least, he wouldn't survive to see the plan through.”

He kept his back against the research center’s metallic hub, knocking snails and barnacles off as he moved. He’d double weighted his ankles and arms before leaving the airlock so he could walk or crawl through the grass if needed.

“Jason started to do the timing calculations over in his head—” Eight… three… eleven… and four is fifteen…”—because now would be the perfect time to have made a simple addition error.” Fifteen minutes less than an hour is forty five minutes, “—give or take a few waves, keystroke errors, and marine life.”

“For the moment he needed to worry about getting caught outside after curfew. Jason's team had started months behind schedule just because their petition to actually leave the research station on a daily basis was considered dangerous to the health and security of everyone in UHA. He argued adamantly that it couldn't be a truly functional underwater habitat without allowing someone to enter and exit daily, no matter the project. They'd finally ceded, probably because they'd tired of the protests outside the Senate buildings every morning for eight long weeks. Now he was taking advantage of that permission blatantly, hoping to God that he'd survive to see the last of the damned UHA and its bureaucrats.”

By the time he’d finished his narration, Jason was inspired again and on the edge of the continental shelf. From here he’d fire up the handheld propeller and make a break for the rift below.

“A quick glance behind his shoulder confirmed that no one was following him. The mini TORPEDO MLXI, purchased on the black market for a mere $600, roared to life with a rush of bubbles and pulled him quickly down the rift into darkness.”

As much as he hated to admit it, Jason was terrified. Two minutes too early or late and he’d be dead or worse. He’d been down the side of the cliff enough to know when to steer the torpedo straight downward even in complete darkness. The bubbles all rose violently against his mask and floated up towards safer ground. Jason sensed the cavern entrance approaching and took a deep breath instinctively.

“He always hated this part—the moment when the chill of rock started seeping into him. He knew it was all the same temperature, especially at night, but his nerves told him otherwise. He reached slowed the TORPEDO to a halt, and grabbed onto the man-placed handholds to draw himself down and into the cavern. Three handholds and he’d clear the vertical passage then seven handholds into the cavern.” One, two, three…one, two three fourfivesix—

Jason stopped narrating, stopped counting, and pulled himself along the last few feet as quickly as possible. He paused at the tenth handhold, removed the weights, and rested them on the rock beneath him. Another breath of tension held him in the darkness. It could all fail him miserably. It could fail the world.

“I can’t take that chance,” he said aloud. His voice was dull against the edges of the airsuit and sounded stuffy when it reached back to his ears. He’d barely spoken with the cavern lit up brilliantly. A strong current shot towards him, launched away from the tunnel towards the air pocket not six feet above his head. He broke through the white surf and shouted.

“Hey! Stop it! It’s me, damn you!”

The waves stopped immediately and the light softened to a soft green glow. For a minute, all Jason heard was the tenor of water dripping off the cavern walls back into the pool below and the rasp of his breathing inside the airsuit as he treaded water.

“I told you I’d make it. I’ve done that much. Are you ready to finish this?” For a moment, Jason worried that he’d narrated the words instead of speaking them. But Argo would only reply on his own terms.

“Of course.”