Jaunt (41 page)

McKean nodded.

The lieutenant colonel walked over to a nearby table and picked up a single holobook. Tapping a button, the device chirped. “Agents, these are your coordinates, just updated and verified by the DoD. Your instructions for this operation are also included. I suggest reading them thoroughly to brief yourselves on the geography of the site and on what the Solicitor General has outlined as your objectives.”

Gilmour took the holobook and scrolled through the text, skimming over it before committing it to memory. He already had an objective in mind when he had returned from his latest jaunt, but would humor Dark Horse and Rauchambau by reading the brief anyway.

Dark Horse then glanced at his wrist chrono and clapped his hands once. “All right, we’ve gotten you as close to the site as possible without getting you wet. Doctor de Lis has scheduled a peek of your new toys. Dismissed.”

The Kuril-Kamchatka Trench evaporated, and the gallery reverted to normal illumination, momentarily blinding the two agents. Having now committed the presentation to memory and rubbing their eyes to adjust to the light, Gilmour and McKean exited and headed for U5-11, each man mentally retracing the undersea route several times over, giving their minds advance warning of the arduous journey to come.

A flurry of activity greeted the pair of agents as they entered U5-7. Looking on while Ivan and Crowe worked, Gilmour and McKean expected a brief aside from the normally exuberant and elaborative boys, but apparently they weren’t quite ready to cede their secrets to the agents just yet. The two junior scientists orbited the suspended hazard suits, each man wielding a holobook in one hand and a diagnostic tool in the other. In the intervening time period, the haz suits had been shed of their quilted exolayers and now bore leathery, slate grey skins; these were the reinforced, pressure-containing hides, no doubt. Mark III of the suits—or was it IV, Gilmour had lost count—was nearly a complete refit. From the agents’ viewpoint, the haz suits looked shiny and pristine, making the transmutations appear effortless, although in all fairness to the theoretical studies staff, the work was most assuredly arduous.

A meter or two away, de Lis and Waters were inspecting some unfamiliar equipment lying on a cart, which the two agents decided was a good place to receive an introduction. As they drew closer, the equipment shone heavily in the bay’s industrial illumination, revealing quite well the intricate but robust design of the twin pieces.

“Agents,” de Lis beckoned, waving his fingers.

Before the scientists lay two vaguely upside down, U-shaped mechanisms, complete with a convex, half-domed cradle dominating the upper-half of each piece. Gilmour studied the sled-like machinery, which, with a little imagination, could conceivably fit over the Casimir chambers of their hazard suits. “I see you found something else to torture us with,”

Gilmour said, a half-smile cracking over his face.

De Lis’ eyes stayed locked on the machinery. “Quite. Over the course of a few brainstorming sessions, Stacia and I sketched out some diagrams for a self-propelled device capable of functioning in deep ocean currents. These two are the results, one for each hazard suit.”

Waters laid her hands on the exterior arms and hefted the sled into the air. She rotated the device around, as if showcasing it for some gimmick-laden webvertisement.

“Found a wonderful composite alloy to make them durable and light. Resistant to atmospheric pressures up to seven bars.”

Gilmour nodded. “I gather they’ll fit over the Casimir chambers?”

“Yes,” de Lis said. “Snugly. Snaps into place for easy removal, easy installment. Shouldn’t be too cumbersome, or too weighty. All important where you’re going.”

Gilmour concurred silently.

“So how does this thing work?” McKean asked.

De Lis extended an index finger and set it on a small outtake barrel, not much wider than four centimeters, at the zenith of the upside-down U, which would be directly behind the wielder’s helmet. “It’s basically a miniature supercavitating engine. The very nature of the hazard suit is aerodynamically sound, enhancing the minimal cavitation we could afford to put into the engine. Carbon dioxide waste from your respiration is employed as the cavitation bubble around your suit, and the engines themselves are standard hydrazine propellant.”

Waters handed the agents de Lis’ holobook, which provided a holographic simulation of the engine’s performance, along with text boxes describing the principles and operations. The pair skimmed through de Lis’ technoscience rigmarole and found the design specifications and operational allowances, at least the theoretical ones.

“Sixty-seven minutes,” Gilmour blurted, raising his eyebrows. “That’s not a lot of fuel to maneuver around down there. We could spend the better part of a day just looking for this wreck. An hour of hydrazine doesn’t get us far, Doctor.”

“I understand. That’s the best we could squeeze into the prototypical engines, though. Stacia and I talked about adding supplemental canisters, but that could be more trouble than they’re worth. Besides, if Dark Horse does his job correctly, you’ll get your GPS

coordinates as close to the core of the wreck site as possible, so you won’t have to expend your hydrazine supply.”

“Sounds good.” Gilmour’s eyes scanned the other shelves, inspecting them for any other experimental devices he should be aware of. Returning his gaze, he said, “Anything else, Doctor?”

“Unfortunately, we haven’t had time to work on the other improvements I’ve been mulling over.”

Gilmour couldn’t withhold a quip. “Maybe you could fit them in on the civilian models, huh?”

“Ugh,” de Lis sounded, grimacing. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Doctor de Lis,” Crowe said, turning towards the group.

“Ah, looks like Crowe and Ivan have finished. Agents, let’s show off our modifications.” De Lis led them to the suspended suits, for which this time Crowe and Ivan were more than willing to allow the agents to study. “As you read in the report, we’ve reconstructed the hazard suits for deep sea activity. This newly constituted molybdenum mesh alloy will allow maximum movement while also providing for supreme pressure containment.”

“If the agents are ready, Doctor,” Ivan said, “we can begin suiting them up.”

De Lis looked to Gilmour and McKean, who both nodded. They removed their overcoats, revealing the familiar bodysocks underneath. Behind them, Crowe and Ivan pulled up two seats, to which they hung the overcoats over, then de Lis and Waters lowered the haz suits from the two-and-a-half-meter tall suspension frame down to eye level. Gilmour and McKean sat down and began sliding their individual leggings on, which had been proffered to them by the two junior scientists. Adjusting the torso rings, the agents rose as Ivan and Crowe placed the abdomen sections over the agents’ heads. The arduous process was made easier over time and practice, to the point where the entire dressing took a fraction of the time of the first fitting, many months ago. Four gauntlets, with lidar “cannons” and gravimetric sensors affixed next to the holographic interfaces, were handed to the agents, and after a few seconds of flexing, completed the dress, save for the helmets.

Next, with the two agents bracing themselves, Crowe and Ivan each lifted one of the supercavitating engine sleds and snapped them into place, over and above the hazard suits’ Casimir chambers. The junior scientists inspected their work briefly before stating to de Lis their satisfaction.

De Lis then raised his eyebrows, expecting a response from the agents at any second.

“To be honest, Doctor,” Gilmour said after jumping in place, “it’s not anymore uncomfortable than the original suit. In that regard, I’m sure it’ll do the job.”

“Excellent. Stacia, inform Colonel Dark Horse that we’re ready to begin.”

“Already on it.”

De Lis gestured towards the threshold of U5-1, then said, “Let’s get you gentlemen properly sent off.” He led a parade of scientists out of U5-7, which completely emptied, to the theoretical studies lab, where Valagua, Marlane, and several of the other junior scientists waited for Gilmour’s and McKean’s entrance.

Once the senior staff and the junior scientists had filled U5-1, Ivan and Crowe handed Gilmour and McKean their helmets, and while the agents finished securing them, were witness to the entries of Lieutenant Colonel Dark Horse, Professor Inez Quintanilla, and lastly, Solicitor General Rauchambau, each of whom remained quiet while watching the final pieces of the pre-jaunt process near completion.

Marlane and Waters took to their customary places at a deck of monitors which would soon display the health of the agents and status of their hazard suits. Crowe and Ivan reviewed the final scans of the haz suits, while two MPs guarded the Lockbox a few steps away. After Crowe gave a thumbs up to the pair of agents, Javier Valagua unlocked the Lockbox and retrieved two jewels, which he gave to Crowe and Ivan, who then opened the haz suits’ Casimir dropchutes and fed them inside.

Gilmour and McKean toggled buttons on their gauntlets’ holographic interfaces, booting up the hazard suits’ systems. The HUDs responded accordingly in both agents’

helmets, in turn powering up all essential systems following voice commands from Gilmour and McKean.

“Holographic interfaces functioning normally,” Marlane announced.

“All hazard suit systems at nominal,” Waters said. “Bioscans within parameters, although Agent Gilmour has elevated adrenaline levels in his bloodstream.”

Hearing the report, Gilmour raised his faceplate and retorted, “Wanna trade?”

Waters grinned and shook her head, then returned to her monitor. “Specimens active. Good for start-up.”

The agents tapped green spheres on their interfaces, beginning Casimir chamber activity. Deep inside, the twin plates started their inexorable close, bearing down on the hidden jewels dropped from above.

Again, as before, the Temporal Retrieve project scientists gathered around the two remaining field members, anxious and eager to send them off one final time, on a mission all of them hoped would see them successful and victorious, at the very least for the sake of humankind’s survival.

The junior scientists slapped Gilmour and McKean enthusiastically on their backs, pushing them forward into the fray with all their skills, hopes and encouragement. Once the scientists’ spontaneous celebration had subsided, Rauchambau and Dark Horse stepped into the semi-circle and stood before the two men.

Dark Horse, never one to use too many words, or get caught up in sentimental reflections, said simply, “We haven’t always seen eye to eye, Agent Gilmour and Agent McKean, but I never neglected to respect your dedication to your country. Good luck to you both, gentlemen.” He then raised his right hand to his brow, saluting the agents before stepping back and handing the floor to the Solicitor General.

Rauchambau inhaled deeply before starting, “When I granted Doctor de Lis’ request, I had no indication that you gentlemen would be truly our only hope in solving this crisis. As the months have come and gone, and the times have gotten more difficult, I now recognize the earnestness to which Doctor de Lis has possessed in his determination to see this project to its successful end, and his near clairvoyance in the seriousness and gravity of the crisis, something I’m not sure our representatives in Washington have always realized. But what I’m most impressed by, Agent Gilmour and Agent McKean, is your single-mindedness in throwing yourselves into situations at which normal men would shrink. You two, and the men who could not make it back, epitomize what our country needs most: dedication, courage, strength, intelligence, and above all, heart, in knowing what must be done, in knowing where your duty lies. I could go on—and most people would say I would...” a smile broke over his face, followed by chortles from his small audience, “but you get my meaning. I’ll be quiet now, and let you gentlemen do what you do best. We are all in your debt.”

A rousing chorus of applause, coupled with whoops and cheers, echoed throughout U5-1, and if one cared to listen, the entire U Complex.

Gilmour and McKean found each other’s eyes among the ebullience and nodded. Closing their faceplates, the agents activated the jaunt processes on their holographic interfaces as the crowd stepped away. Looking around, Gilmour drank in one last moment of this laboratory, creating a mental image of the last time he knew he would ever see this place, these people.

Not allowing his emotions to overtake him, Gilmour focused on the HUD graphics five centimeters from him, blurring out the assembled scientists. He shut off all contact with the world outside, even as he heard “Good luck” filter in from de Lis.

The next few seconds passed like hours...his Casimir chamber hummed rhythmically on his back, vibrating his haz suit, lulling Gilmour into a peaceful, nigh stupor as the holographic interface slowly crept down his faceplate and tapered into a gaping white maw where once his abdomen resided. One heartbeat collided into another until it was one with the spinning jewel, two fiery cores expanding, ripping him apart, consuming all quanta in his body, each millisecond stretching, pulling him further, until finally, he was on the horizon, no longer separate but one, no longer in a present, but in a river of infinity, one with all quanta ever to exist....

“Oh, Christ, no, it’s finally happened....”

He fell in an infinite blackness, a ink so dark, so impenetrable, death seemed like it would have been warmer somehow. End over end he tumbled, no sense of up or down, his balance lost to chaos. Had he at last gone too far?