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FIFTEEN
NUMA vessel Gemini
Indian Ocean, 140 miles due west of Christmas Island
The NUMA vessel Gemini was a rakishly designed, hundred-and-fifty-foot vessel. In profile, she looked like a bulked-up yacht, thicker and heavier, designed to carry instruments and ROVs and a crew of scientists packed into tiny cabins.
At the moment, Gemini was moving due west, as the crew tested a new type of sonar designed to penetrate the seafloor.
With a walkie-talkie in his hand, Paul Trout moved to the very front of the forward deck. He leaned over the railing and gazed downward. Just aft of where the ship’s bow met the water, an eleven-foot triangular flange stuck out from the side of the hull. This protrusion, along with an identical one on the port side, gave the ship’s bow an odd shape, like the head of a stingray, and the crew had nicknamed it the Skate.
Perhaps it was appropriate. Like her namesake, the Skate was designed to scan the seafloor far below, searching for things hidden beneath eons of piled-up sediment.
It was expected to be a huge leap forward in the hunt for and development of underwater resources. But first, it had to work, which, so far, had proven hit or miss.
Paul pressed the talk switch on the radio. “Flange folded down and locked in place. The hookup bars are secured, the alignment indicators are matched up. The Skate is visually in the correct location.”
“Okay, Paul,” a female voice said over the radio. “We’re still getting an odd signal on the processor.”
The female voice belonged to Gamay Trout, Paul’s wife. She was in Gemini’s information center, monitoring the data stream from the Skate’s bell-like housing.
Paul preferred to be out on the deck, partly because the information center was cramped and tight and he was six feet eight inches tall, but also because the idea of signing up for a mission at sea and spending most of it in a darkened room surrounded by computers struck him as the height of absurdity.
“Do you see any dolphins?” Gamay asked.
“Dolphins?”
“During a test run, there were dolphins bow-riding with us, they seemed very interested in the Skate. They kept blasting it with their sonar. It was a similar kind of staccato display.”
Paul hadn’t heard that one before. He checked both sides of the ship. “No dolphins, no pilot whales.”
A long pause followed. Paul figured Gamay was running through a diagnostic protocol or something. He took the time to stretch out and marvel at the blue sky, the fresh breeze, and the warm sun.
After more silence, he decided to risk prodding her. “Everything okay?”
There was no answer, and Paul imagined the computers crashing and all manner of swearing going on in the control room. For the moment, he was doubly glad not to be down there.
He turned as a figure appeared outside the Gemini’s bridge and descended the stairs toward the main deck.
Paul smiled at Gamay as she approached. At five foot ten, she was relatively tall for a woman, but her proportions were such that she looked neither thin nor reedy the way many t
all women do. Glamorous when she needed to be. For now, she was dressed like the rest of the crew, in khaki pants and a NUMA polo shirt. Her dark red hair was pulled sleekly back in a ponytail and tucked beneath a NUMA cap that read GEMINI in gold letters. She flashed a smile at him, and her blue eyes sparkled with a mischievous quality.
“Decide to join me for a stroll?” he said, a New Hampshire accent detectable in his voice.
“Actually,” she said, “I came to tell you the bad news. We have to pull up stakes and head south.”
“South? Why? I’m sure you can get the Skate back online.”
“It’s not the Skate,” she said. “We have new orders.”
Paul sensed the ship beginning a turn to port. “Not wasting any time.”
“Dirk wants us to go help Kurt and Joe with what he called a critical project.”
“Last I heard, Kurt and Joe were on vacation,” Paul reminded her. “Does this project involve bail money or sneaking them out of the country somehow?”
“You know Dirk,” she said, looping an arm around Paul’s waist. “He’s a man of few words. Said we’d be given more details when we arrived on-station.”
