Jack tried to reboot the system and power up the sub again.
It wouldn’t come online.
"The shockwave could have loosened a connector, or the abrupt shutdown could have triggered some kind of spike or surge,” I said.
He kept trying to get the sub to power up, but it wasn't happening.
I climbed out of my chair and moved to the electrical panel. I flipped it open and shone my flashlight inside, examining the wiring and connections.
Everything seems solid.
Nothing had rattled loose. I followed the lines all the way to the input port.
All looked good.
Jack tried a couple more times to get the system to power on, but the abrupt cycles must have damaged the batteries somehow. It was starting to look grim.
"I'm not one to panic," Flynn said, “but what the hell do we do now?"
I took a deep breath. "The Triton is 150 yards back that way. The batteries are still good as far as we know. Only the cable was cut. We can grab the batteries, hot-swap them out, and give it a shot. Right now, it's our only hope.”
“150 yards with no hot water support," Flynn said. "That's a 300-yard round-trip, carrying heavy batteries.”
"I'll do it," Jack said.
"No. Not with your shoulder.” Jack had mostly recovered from a gunshot wound to the shoulder. He'd worn his vest during the incident, but the impact fractured his collarbone and deflected the bullet into the soft tissue of the shoulder. He wasn't quite a hundred percent yet. I figured that may give him a little trouble on the return with the battery packs.
"You're not going,” Jack said. “Look at you. You're still shivering. You’ve had way too much cold exposure to handle this.”
"Hell, I'll get’er done,” Flynn said.
"Flynn, you're not trained for that kind of thing," I said.
"I got this," he said with confidence.
37
Flynn’s enthusiasm might have outweighed his ability. I convinced him to sit this one out. I donned a wetsuit, shouldered the rebreather we had taken from Trask, and put on a mask.
"Are you sure this is such a good idea?" Flynn said. "I can do this."
"I got this,” I assured.
I entered the lockout chamber, sealed the hatch, then opened the bottom hatch. I plunged into the cold water, and it took a moment to adjust to the shock of it. I cleared my mask and finned toward the Triton. The exertion helped keep my core temperature up. My quads burned, and my heart pumped. With a flashlight leading the way, I reached the Triton after several minutes.
I disconnected two battery packs, grabbed the handles, and yanked them from their seat. They weren’t light by any stretch of the imagination, but manageable. My hands were already growing numb.
I swam back to the Neptune, swapped them out, then swam back to the Triton to get another set. The second trip was harder than the first.
I grabbed the batteries and made the return trip. They had negative buoyancy, and I dropped one on the way back. With numb hands, I wrestled it from the seabed and returned to the Neptune.
With less dexterity than I had before, I swapped out battery packs, then returned to the lockout. I climbed from the water and sealed the bottom hatch. I pulled off my fins and mask and ditched the rebreather, shaking. Shaking was good. It was early stage. Your body’s way of increasing temperature. When people stop shivering, it’s a bad sign, indicating late-stage hypothermia. At that stage, they are more susceptible to cardiac events as toxins build up in the extremities.
I opened the hatch to the main compartment and staggered in. I gave Jack a thumbs up as I grabbed a thermal blanket.
He powered up the system, and the dash came alive.
There were cheers and high-fives all around.
