"You two know each other?” Wong asked.
"We met briefly at the Seven Seas," I replied.
"Oh, and I almost forgot, Chuck Trask," Wong said, making the introduction.
Chuck extended his hand.
I had never met the man before, but I was somewhat familiar with him. Trask ran an advanced defense research company. He was a young guy in his early 30s with long brown hair and a mustache and goatee. A colorful figure, pushing the boundaries of technology, he’d made the rounds on the podcast circuit, promoting his new tech.
At first, I wondered what a defense contractor was doing aboard the habitat, then it made perfect sense. I'm sure he was working in conjunction with Tristan, developing advanced weaponry both for undersea and space warfare. A colony on the moon or Mars might need to defend itself at some point, and the research could trickle down to modern weapons development. I wouldn’t be surprised if Trask had some financial involvement in the habitat and the planned space missions.
"Where's the deceased?" I asked.
A solemn look tensed the faces of the crew.
"Follow me," Wong said.
14
If you were claustrophobic, this was not the place to be. The habitat was a multi-chambered facility with passages that connected the different compartments. Portholes throughout offered a view of the deep sea, though at this depth there wasn't much light—a deep blue twilight.
It took a certain temperament to live like this.
Conduit and cabling lined the bulkheads. Emergency equipment, fire extinguishers, and bailout bottles were strategically placed throughout the facility. The grated floor allowed drainage. A central moon pool contained two mini-submarines for exploratory missions. Advanced heliox rebreathers, wetsuits, and dive helmets were stowed in lockers. The ambient water temperature at this depth in the Keys was 45-50 degrees. Cold enough to induce hypothermia in short order. These rebreathers and wetsuits would suffice for short emergency dives, but for longer durations, dive suits with umbilicals and heated water were mandatory.
The hum of computers and machinery filled the air, along with the sounds of the sea that transferred through the hull. There was no mistaking where you were—at the bottom of the ocean with no easy way to the surface.
We followed Commander Wong through the maze of passageways, through hatches, to the engineering room. On the deck lay Denver Weyland, the former commander of the habitat.
He was a handsome man in his late 30s with light-brown hair that was slicked back. He had chiseled features, a square jaw, and a trimmed mustache and goatee. His blank, ice blue eyes stared at the ceiling.
“This area is now off limits until we process the scene,” I said.
“For how long?” Wong asked.
“Until I say.”
His jaw tightened. “This is a mission-critical area. My crew will need access.”
“Clear it with me first. This shouldn’t take too long, then we’ll be out of the way.”
I snapped on a pair of nitrile gloves, knelt down beside the body, and felt for a pulse. Weyland was cold to the touch. He’d been dead for quite some time. At least seven or eight hours, maybe longer.
I pulled out my phone and snapped pictures of the compartment and the body. Wide angles at first, then closer shots from multiple angles. Then extreme close-ups on Weyland’sface, neck, hands, etc. Then I took video of the scene and the remains as I commented notes.
Weyland’s suit had been unzipped, his shirt cut away, and defibrillator pads attached to his chest. The AED sat on the deck nearby.
Once I’d documented everything, I asked, "What happened?"
"There was an electrical malfunction," Wong said, hovering just outside the hatch with the others looking over his shoulder. "That's my guess, anyway.”
"What was he doing in here?"
"We had just gotten back from an excursion in one of the mini-subs. We’ve been having some charging issues with the batteries. The system will send an alert if it's not charging properly. I think Weyland came to check on it.”
The room was filled with control panels, gauges, switches, knobs, and breaker boxes.
"It's possible there's a short in the recharge system,” Wong continued. “He could have come in here, touched the control panel, and gotten a shock. The voltage is pretty high. It could have induced cardiac arrest."
