Chapter No. 17 Lament of the Shipmasters

"Here's the plan that Carl came up with, Dr. Hauptman," said Captain Stubens as he shoved a hand-drawn sketch in front of Eric. "This is based on his calculations of how much additional time you'll need on your expedition into the volcanic shaft." He pointed at round cylinders. "He's added four air tanks and two batteries."

Eric moved his chair closer to the lab bench so that he could study the pencil drawing. The lines were crisp and well drawn with many calculations penned in above the battery compartment and air tanks of the mini-sub.

Eric looked up at Stubens. "Too bad my wife isn't here. She's much better with math."

"Where is your wife?"

"She's generating melatonin."

Stubens' right eyebrow rose. "Mela . . . what?"

"Melatonin. You know. The hormone that's created in the brain during sleep. It regulates our biological clocks."

"Oh, she's taking a nap."

"A well deserved one. She didn't sleep well last night . . . as you might have guessed."

Stubens rubbed the side of his face. "I understand. Recent events have not been conducive to sleep."

"Amen to that."

"I wouldn't worry about Carl's calculations. He has a degree in mechanical engineering. He's quite good at impromptu modifications."

Eric flashed a brief smile. "I think we all have confidence in your pilot's . . ."

The subject of their discussion suddenly appeared at the hatch of the instrument lab.

"We have a serious problem, sir." His face reinforced his statement.

Stubens slowly shook his head as if he was disgusted, but his face radiated sarcasm. "So what else is new . . . what is it?"

"Henry recorded a signal over the Com Grid."

"What kind of signal?" Stubens asked, rubbing his forehead to quell a blossoming headache.

"Maybe you should come up to the control room and talk to him."

He stared at his first officer for a few seconds before he nodded. He turned to Eric. "Maybe you should come with us."

Eric wasn't sure he wanted to come, but he did anyway.

The control room was quieter than normal, almost tomb-like. The sub was at full stop near the southern end of the narrow trench that lies north of Fernandina, and silence was paramount for stealth. A lone Henry was bent over at the navigational station intently studying a monitor.

"What's up," Stubens said as soon as he appeared on the deck with Carl and Eric in tow.

Henry didn't turn to look at them. "I recorded a signal over the Grid. It pulsed back on the same frequency that Tiffany used to give away our position."

"What is it?" Stubens asked, his face twisted with confusion.

"I'm not sure, but it reminds me of one of those launch codes that the military uses."

"Launch code? What the hell would they be sending us a launch code?"

"The Grid is used by the navy to contact their missile subs. Maybe they're confused . . . or we're at war."

"Or they sent it to us on purpose," Eric said from behind Carl.

Both Carl and Stubens turned to him. "Why would they do that?" the Captain asked.

"Well," he said, rubbing his beard, "What if that code—-if it is a code—-was supposed to be sent to us. What if it's designed to activate a surveillance device?"

"Or a bomb," Carl said calmly but with ominous tones.

"A bomb!" Stubens exploded. He turned to Henry. "Is that possible?"

Henry twisted the one end of his handlebar mustache into a sharper point. "It's possible. Tiffany's modifications to the COM station were tied into our main computer, allowing access to all the systems on this sub. That signal was received before I removed her handiwork."

Stubens smashed a fist into a bulkhead. "Damn it. Every time we think we're out of the woods, we find ourselves still surrounded by trees."

"If it is a bomb," Carl said, "We more than likely don't have much time left."

"A cheery thought," Henry said with a sarcastic smile.

"We should give serious thought to abandoning ship," Eric said with little enthusiasm.

Carl rubbed his baldhead. "I doubt we would survive it. If those bastards are hanging around waiting for us to surface, we'd be goners for sure."

"Then we'll just have to find the bomb," Henry said. "But, we had better get crackin' or we'll be goners on the bottom of this trench."

Stubens held his hand up like a traffic cop. "Whoa! We can't go running around like chickens with our heads cut off. We have to use our brains. There's no other way."

All eyes turned to the Captain. If he had a plan in mind, now was as good a time as ever to bring it out.

"Let's try to think of the most logical way they could destroy us." He turned to Carl. "We need the diagrams of the Nautilus."

Carl punched several commands into a keyboard and the monitor lit up with an engineering drawing of the sub. "The only logical target has to be the reactor. Blowing out the hull would involve a sizeable bomb, something we would have detected long before now."

"Agreed," Stubens said, scanning his eyes over all three men before returning them to the monitor. "But where?"

Carl pointed at the monitor. "My guess is the coolant pump and its backup. If we lose coolant, the reactor'll melt down."

"Wouldn't the computer kick the rods out if that happened?" Stubens asked.

"Not if they planted a bomb in the circuits that lead to the control rods," Carl said.

"Perhaps, the code messed with our computer," Henry said. "The control rods may not respond to an emergency."

Stubens threw his arms up. "This is all conjecture, damn it." He rushed to the intercom and slammed a button. "Miller!"

After a few minutes. "Captain?"

"Get that Jones woman down here to the instrument lab."

"She's probably asleep, Captain."

"I don't give a damn. Get her up and down here on the double."

"Aye, Captain."

He walked back to the three men. "That bitch had better tell us what's going on here, or--"

"She probably doesn't know anything." Eric said as calmly as he could.

Stubens tensed his jaw with resolve. "We'll see."

"Well," Henry said, blowing the word out with a breath. "I'm not going to be much help here. I should go up to the control room and see if I can find if the computer has been tampered with."

"Good idea," Stubens said.

Ten minutes passed before Miller brought Tiffany into the Instrument Lab. She didn't look too pleased about being roused from a deep sleep.

Eric looked her over, but there was little to see. She was encased in worn dark green fatigues two sizes too big, which did little to flatter her magnificent figure.

"Sit," Stubens, commanded her, pointing to a chair.

She did, but it was as if she were being imposed upon.

He paced back and forth while he was talking. "We have reason to believe that a command was sent to this vessel on the same frequency that your modification to the COM station used. We think it activated a bomb. I want to know where that bomb is?"

She looked at him with incredulous eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Stubens' face flushed red. "Look, damn it. You planted one bomb. I want to know where the other one is."

"That was the only bomb I had. It wasn't supposed to hurt anyone, just disrupt things."

Stubens was really angry now. He jabbed his finger in Eric's direction. "Dr. Hauptman here would have been killed if he hadn't seen your damn bomb."

Tiffany bowed her head. "I'm sorry. I had no idea."

"Where's the other bomb?"

"I don't know. They only gave me one."

Stubens held his finger up. "Aha! So there is another. Who? Tell me. Who is your accomplice?"

She shook her head. "I don't know his name. He's some maintenance guy at the Institute."

Carl huffed. "Jesus! They've got saboteurs at the Institute. Anderson will just love hearing that."

Stubens stared at him. "Anderson's not here facing a watery grave. We need to find that bomb schnel."

"She's of no use," Carl said. "We'll have to find it ourselves."

"Yes," Stubens said, rubbing his forehead. "Why don't you go to the coolant pumps? Dr. Hauptman and I will try to see if we can find anything at the circuits leading into the control rods."

The intercom buzzed. The Captain rushed to it. "Yes?"

"I think we have four minutes, Captain," Henry said. "I found a timer routine in the control code."

"Shit." He turned to Carl, prompting him to rush out of the lab. "Ok," he said to Henry. "See what you can do to stop it."

"Yes, sir."

"Take her back," he said to Miller. "And then get over to the pumps and see if you can help Carl."

Miller saluted, but his hand had an unaccustomed shake.

"Come with me, Dr. Hauptman. We have a job to do."

Eric did his best to keep up with the Captain, but he fell behind. When he finally arrived at the reactor, he reluctantly crawled through the containment hatch to find Stubens looking over a gaggle of steel-sheathed cables.

"I don't see anything suspicious," he said to Eric without turning. "I have no idea which of these cables goes to the rod controls."

If the Captain didn't know, Eric was sure he didn't have a clue. Instead of helping Stubens, he looked around the small access compartment at all the steel panels emblazoned with warning signs, warning signs with bright yellow radiation symbols.

This is not a safe place.

One panel caught his eye. It wasn't flush with the bulkhead like the others, as if it wasn't the correct size. He ran his hand over it carefully before he stopped at the recessed handle. He paused, not sure if he should remove the panel, especially with the warning that there was high voltages present.

What the hell.

He yanked on the handle and the panel fell with an ear-splitting clank to the deck. Stubens rushed to him.

"What happened?"

"Nothing," Eric said, still startled. "This panel looked suspicious."

Stubens peered into the large electrical box. It didn't take him long to locate trouble.

"Shit!"

"What?" Eric asked, trying to look over his shoulder.

"It's a bomb, all right." Stubens tried to dislodge it, but it wouldn't budge. "It's really stuck in here."

The intercom buzzed. Eric answered it. "Yes?"

Henry's voice sounded stressed. "Carl found the bombs on the pumps. He's at the ejector vent now."

"We found another bomb in a control panel," Eric told him.

"You had better get it to the discharge vent as quick as you can. There's less than one minute left."

"I can't get this damn thing loose," Stubens yelled, droplets of sweat breaking on his forehead.

"We'll be there as soon as we can," Eric said into the intercom.

"Here, let me try it," he said to Stubens.

The Captain looked at Eric as if he thought he was being facetious.

"My wife says I'm good at tearing things apart."

The Captain backed away.

"I'm just not good at putting them back together," Eric said, looking over the round object embedded in a tangle of wires.

He peeled away several wires to better expose the device. It reminded him of an old tin of chewing tobacco, not really all that threatening. "It's fastened to the back. You have a screw driver?"

"No, damn it."

Eric pulled a knife from his pocket. "Maybe this will work."

He snapped out a screwdriver blade from his Swiss army knife and began unscrewing the device from the back of the panel.

"Hurry," Stubens said with anxiety tingeing his voice.

Eric pulled the bomb out and handed it to Stubens. The Captain wasted no time in bolting out of the access room. Eric ran after him but fell behind, as before.

After sprinting through the main corridor, Eric arrived in the forward compartment, a section dedicated to torpedo tubes if this were a military craft. On the Nautilus, the compartment is devoted to the launching of probes and the discharge of garbage. Carl and Miller were waiting for them with less than contented faces.

"Hurry," Carl yelled.

Stubens tossed the bomb into the vent, and Carl quickly slammed the hatch shut, locked it, and activated the flood control.

"We got less than ten seconds," Carl announced as he held his hand on the eject lever.

Anxious eyes watched the water level indicator as it inched toward the full position. As soon as it did, Carl pulled the lever. A loud discharge sounded as the bombs were ejected into the sea through a vent in the Nautilus' bow.

The compartment was plunged into total darkness.

"What the hell?" Stubens yelled.

A loud explosion was followed by a strong concussion wave. The sub shuddered and then rocked to one side, throwing the hapless occupants to the deck.

When the lights came back on, Stubens got up and hit the intercom button. "What happened?"

"I rebooted the computer with the archival backup," Henry said from the control room. "It was the only way to purge the virus."

"Virus?"

"Yeah. The code activated a virus that made our computer ignore emergencies. If those bombs had gone off in the sub, we would be glowing at the bottom of the trench now."

"Wait a minute," Stubens said. "If the code activated a virus, then the virus must have been there in the first place."

"Right on, Captain. There's a saboteur at the Institute. No doubt about that now."

Stubens blew out a long breath of frustration. "And what's really bad is that we can't send a message back to the Institute warning them."

No one argued with that assessment.

The Captain turned to Eric. "Well, Dr. Hauptman, you've had more experience with bomb disposal than most bomb experts."

Eric smiled, and was glad he had something to smile about. "Too bad I'm not getting hazard pay. I would be rich by now."

That brought smiles to all present.

"If this were a military vessel," the Captain said, "you would deserve a medal."

"Instead of a reward, I think I'll take a nap," Eric said. "Assuming I can relax."

"Good idea," The Captain said, slapping him on the back.

###

Awakening from a nap, Eric turned over in his bunk and beheld a heavenly reward: his wife taking a sponge bath. He smiled when he remembered that the showers in the head had suffered damage from the recent attacks and were being repaired. He knew that his wife wouldn't tolerate going long without a bath. She's a clean freak. Maybe it has something to do with being near or in water most of the time. Then again, it could be because of obsession with her looks. It's a woman thing. No matter. The pleasure was his.

She stood over a floor drain near the wall and slowly, lovingly bathed perfumed soapy water over her magnificent body. He especially loved watching her squeeze the sponge over her luscious breasts, allowing the water to run in little rivulets over velvety skin, skin textured with myriads of bubbles that glistened like little diamonds. The effect was sensual and stimulating, a vision savored slowly.

She caught sight of his attentive eyes, and it gave her a flush of excitement, a warm glow that permeated her erogenous zones. She smiled and turned to give him a good look at her backside, spreading her legs and bending over to reveal a more rewarding view.

He whistled and then clapped, encouraging her to take a bow. Unfortunately, he had to pay the price of admission, and it was not what he expected.

She wrapped her still wet bod in a robe, walked over to the bunks, and stood there to stare at him.

"What?" he asked, concern showing on his face.

"Did you enjoy the show, dear?" She wasn't smiling, a fact that deepened his concern.

He managed a weak smile. "Of course. I always enjoy seeing you . . . you're beautiful."

"Am I as beautiful as Tiffany Jones."

Oh, shit! Here it comes.

"You are more of a woman than she'll ever be, Love."

Good answer.

"But, I thought you liked big tits and asses?"

He smiled and frowned at the same time. "What ever gave you that idea?"

"Miss Jones told me." Her face was beginning to show definite signs of anger.

"What are you talking about?" His was showing signs of panic.

"Don't act coy with me. Miss Jones told me that you saw her in the buff and that you definitely enjoyed what you saw."

No use lying.

"Well . . . I . . . I was . . ."

"Come on. Tell me."

"She's telling the truth . . . but it wasn't my fault She was coming back from taking a shower and she . . . ah . . . she was wrapped in a towel . . . ah, like you . . . but she must have decided I needed a show. What can I say; I was just an innocent spectator."

"I'll bet."

"Gheez, Love, I can't help it if I enjoyed what she did. If I hadn't, I would have been dead . . . at least emotionally."

His honesty stunned her.

Momentarily.

"You didn't answer my question."

"What's that, Love?'

"Am I as beautiful as Tiffany Jones?"

What a loaded question.

After a moment of contemplation, Eric slowly, deliberately climbed down from the top bunk so that he had ample time to fabricate a good response.

"Look, Love. To me, you are the most beautiful woman on this planet. She may have larger tits, but yours are more proportioned to your figure. In fact, they're perfect. A thousand Miss Jones will come and go, but you'll always be the most beautiful."

Her facial expression changed in stages from anger to amusement. At the end of it she smiled and tilted her head. "Well, I suppose that deserves a reward." Her smile turned ornery. "For me, that is. I'm going to lie in the bunk and watch you take a sponge bath."

He stared at her with a perplexed expression, hoping that she was just joking around.

She wasn't.

She sat on the edge of her bunk and clapped her hands. "Come on, Dear, get busy. I want to see skin." She laughed. "Take it off, all off."

He gaped at her for a moment before he began to undress, but his motions were slow and reluctant, as if he were trying to delay.

"What if somebody comes by to see us . . . like Joyce?"

She winked at him. "I'll invite her in for the show. Maybe she would enjoy seeing a man in the buff."

What an ugly thought.

When he was down to his skivvies, he stopped and looked at her with a pleading expression.

She shook a finger at him. "Come on. Take it off."

He turned his back to her and slid his jockey briefs down and stepped out of them.

She whistled. "Nice ass, but I think I'll like the front view better."

Good grief.

He slowly turned around and gave her a sheepish smile.

Her eyes widened and she grinned. "Yes, I definitely like the front view."

Thank goodness she's not really angry. I deserve this. I hope this little humiliation of hers will be punishment enough.

She stood up and allowedher robe to fall to the deck. Eric didn't know whether to cheer or cry. He hadjust avoided a serious crisis, one of the many he would face on the rocky roadto marital bliss.