Everlast, TX

Anybody Home?

“At the risk of being unpopular, I vote down.” Gideon said.

Shasta reached across and punched him in the arm.

“Seriously this time. Don’t forget we just descended through a debris field. Flushing the ballast tanks would take us top side, but without navigation of any sort. I say we wait for the debris and the storm to clear.”

Colt scratched his chin. “Speaking of debris, how in the world did the Batillus end up scattered over a thousand meters so quickly?”

“Focus!”

“Right.” Colt snapped to. “Gideon makes a solid case.”

“Agreed.” Maddox looked to Shasta.

Shasta nodded.

“Okay, down we go. How do we ensure falling pieces of the Batillus doesn’t crush us?

Gideon double checked the view finder. “Our drift has taken us far enough in the other direction. Unless the tides change, nothing should land within thirty meters of our resting spot.”

“And when we finally blow the ballast, the pressure difference will be enough to dislodge us?”

Gideon shrugged. “Should be.”

“Awesome.” Maddox rolled her eyes.

“Speaking of ballast,” Colt interrupted their quibbling, “we could vent enough to slow our descent. You know, cushion our impact a bit.”

“Right.” Gideon snapped his fingers.

“On it.” Colt flipped a switch guard, flipped the switch and opened a small compartment in the dash. Inside it, he found a valve and turned it a quarter turn. He glued his eyes to the ballast gauge, but the line didn’t drop. “Feel anything?”

“Nothing yet. Try another quarter.”

Colt turned the valve incrementally. Suddenly, the sub jolted. The gauge line dropped too far. Colt closed the valve, but their erratic movement continued as the venting air spun the tiny vessel in circles.

“What happened?” Maddox gripped the dash.

Colt thumped the gauge then noticed a flashing light. “Outer hull integrity failed. We’re losing the compressed air!” Alarms chirred as the controls lit up across the board.

“We’re descending too quickly.” Maddox shut off the descent and proximity warnings and tried the turbines again with negative results.

“Impact in ten, nine, eight…” Gideon counted down while Colt and Maddox stared helplessly at each other. “…Three, two, one.”

Everyone cringed. Nothing happened.

“Um, Gideon?”

Gideon checked the view finder. “The silt is clearing.”

“Shouldn’t it be getting thicker?”

“Guys?” Shasta punched up a map and cast it onto the holoscreen. “I think we missed the bottom.”

“How do you miss the bottom of the—” Maddox stopped mid-sentence. “Oh.”

“We’re in the Sigsbee Deep.” The four friends starred at each other until the vessel began to rattle and creak with the increasing pressure.

Gideon checked the view finder. “Silt’s still clearing. Switching to sonographic.” The sonographic view filled the holoscreen. “There,” he pointed, “we’re approaching a sill. That should stop our fall. Wait…”

Colt’s jaw dropped. “Are you seeing this?”

“No way. Not possible.”

Shasta spun through a series of maps. “Nothing manmade shows up on the maps.”

“The mag-levs don’t show up on any map. That doesn’t mean they don’t exist.” Colt rubbed his eyes. “Gideon?”

“Metal. I’d say eight and a half crap loads of it.”

“Really? I was thinking ten—”

“Is that a technical term?” Maddox barked. “Crap load? Really?”

Gideon shrugged. “More than a butt load and less than—”

“The sill!” Maddox braced for impact. This time it came as expected.

The submersible struck the sill sideways and slid over its rough surface. Colt counted beneath his breath as he squeezed his armrests. He got to six before the sub came to rest.

Gideon checked the finder. “From what I can see, it looks like we’re stable. We’re definitely below the effects of the storm and there’s no silt to speak of. Visibility is really good.”

“Does that matter?” Colt asked.

“Maddox, shut of the external lights.”

“Okay.” She questioned Gideon but obeyed.

Gideon pulled away from the view finder and nodded. “It’s like Austin city lights out there.”

“The structure’s operational?”

Gideon shrugged. “The lights are on.”

“The only question is whether anybody’s home.” Colt unbuckled his harness.

Maddox clucked her tongue. “Already forgot what happened last time you did that?”

“I can’t think with it on.”

“You can think?” Shasta asked. “When did this happen?”

“Truce.” Colt held up his hands.

“Sorry.”

“This isn’t a problem, it’s a mystery. Right? What is it that your dad always says?” He looked at Maddox.

“He’s not my dad.”

“He says—”

Shasta and Gideon finished Colt’s sentence simultaneously. “Problems don’t always have solutions, but mysteries do.”

“We’re still networked?”

Shasta tapped a button to confirm. “Yeah. Signal’s weak but steady.”

“Look up the Batillus.”

Shasta ran her fingers over the com with expert grace.

“Find out what it was carrying, where it left harbor, where it hails—”

“That can’t be right.” She stopped.

“What?”

“Give me a second to cross—” After another flurry, she shook her head.

“Yes?” Maddox prodded her.

“According to two official files, the Batillus was retired and scrapped thirty-two years ago.”

“Scrapped.” Maddox stared dumbly. “As in scrap-scrapped?”

“Sorry to interrupt such a brilliant though exercise, but something’s coming our way.” Gideon pointed at the holoscreen. “Could be a really big, metal fish. But I’m guessing it’s a piloted vessel.”

“That answers that question.” Colt fastened his harness.

“What question?” Maddox asked.

“There’s somebody home. Now we just have to worry about who they are and and how they feel about guests.”

What Happens Next?

So somebody is home, but who is it? And what are they up to? You decide! Play one of the wild cards on the right via comment and let your inspiration drive the story. (Don't forget to vote. That's what triggers the winning wild card to be written into the next episode!)