Deep Blue

The huge metal slab slid away from the inside of the Upper Air's hull. I started down the ramp, sunlight filling my vision. The boots clanked sharply on the steel as I ran, spreading my arms wide. Leaping forward, nothing but space, freefalling into the blue.

The ocean beneath spread vast between horizons, terrifying, as blue stretched full circle, sky and sea a 360° sphere of turquoise brilliance.

'Woooooohoooooooo!'

My intercom crackled alive with the others' euphoric delight. The suit's torso clamped against my chest, air molecules ripping across its surface as my entire body twisted round, blurring my vision. I closed my eyes.

'Michael? Respond!' The sounds pierced the howling.

'Yeah?' I steadied myself and rotated to face up.

'You went into a spin there. Open early to slow descent.' It was Nathya. I hadn't reported in.

'Sure thing.'

Gripping the catch on my back canister, I released the parachute. The sky vanished behind a white cloud of undulating plastic, my torso wrenched up by deceleration. Blood rushed to my feet, swelling the veins and arteries, my oxygen starved brain screaming at the pain. Raw eyes moved in their sockets, attempting to gauge range of vision. I could still see down to the Delphine Ocean, three miles down. Turning right and left revealed the endless blue water, streaked by dark-green colonies of seaweed. I checked the visor display and spoke into the helmet mike.

'Parachute complete. Back on course.'

Four other tiny yellow figures released discophoran sheets, the thin tendrils straightening and holding back their suits from plunging into the watery depths.

'My God! Amazing!' Mannamew's rasping voice.

'Sure.' For me it was just routine.

'It's so big! Where we heading?'

'Here...' I created a topological map on his side screen.

'The Hofman Institute?'

'Yes.'

Didn't the techcorps inform anyone except me?

The team lacked experience. Phyleone and Mannamew had a little. The other two, David and Estoria, none. Couldn't the corps spare anyone with a little experience? Situations like this you send in veterans, not rookies. The Corp had obviously decided to save a bit of money.

'Surface approach thirty seconds.'

I twisted my ribbed suit arms round over my chest. I lifted bulbous leg sections into foetal position, twisting my back to approaching water.

'Twenty... Fifteen... Good luck.'

'Ten...' I pulled my head forward into the flat of the visor.

'Five... Entering water...'

Pain, silence. No sky, no sun. Something was stinging.

The pain of impact hit me.

'Aargh...'

Air gurgled and down my windpipe, coughing and spluttering. I pressed my face against the visor, numbing cold a welcome distraction.

' ... '

Someone was talking to me.

'You okay, Michael?'

Mannamew.

'Yeah. I'm fine... I'm getting too old for this.' I swallowed spittle as I detached the parachute.

I pressed another pressure pad in right glove, the needle breaking the flesh. That really helped. I was aware of others breaking through surface, bright yellow suits silhouetted against sun's penetrating light.

The menzine would takes a few moments to work.

My limbs felt strong again. Pain ebbed away. I turned on the oxygen and flipped the turbine tubes along my back over to partial power. Water fell away under the force of the turbines. The bastard mixtures of hydrogen and helium produced by the backcanister bubbled off behind me. I levelled my body towards the depths.

'Everyone follow me down. Do not deviate from the route. See you all down there.'

I transmitted a smiley image to everyone's side-screens.

'Nobody worry. This should be routine.'

Routine?

I flicked the backcanister's turbines to full power, speeding from the light, down into the depths below.

Part 2 - Entrance

They call it the Deep.

It's very dark.

The pressure's crushing. Life down here is pretty minimal.

Our suits, double layered and ribbed to withstand the pressure, were too heavy and bulky to be moved by human muscle. Vast pistons and turbines had to be used to move each joint. It was a crude system, but allowed humans to withstand these kinds of conditions.

'Mannamew? Copy?'

'I copy, Michael. I've located the Entrance bay. Contact with Upper Airs has been lost.'

'Do the others know?'

'Not yet.'

I switched frequencies, now broadcasting to the others.

'Estoria? David? Do you read?'

'Estoria here, Michael. Can't locate that position. Is it behind a ridge or something?'

'I'm not sure, Estoria. Try using Navlink.'

'Navlink?'

'They didn't teach you Navlink?'

'Err... No.'

Jesus... now what?

'Contact David - try to dock at these co-ordinates.'

'Okay, confirmed.'

Heading down, the huge concrete mass of the Hofman institute came into view. Sprawled across the trench valley bottom, the jagged towers and deep entrance ports stood out in the subsea landscape. Escaping light, from the vast banks of seaweed farms, created an encompassing glow, silhouetting the building with an dark aura. The architecture of the institute was never designed to be seen by human eye. All traffic to and from the institute was conducted in giant, windowless subtransports.

I began the descent into the entrance hangars. Designed for vessels several times the size of our dropship, the space in the Entrance bay made me very insignificant. I hated this place.

Landing by the small airlock on the east side of the hangar, I turned on comms.

'Michael, things is not good. Phyleone can't contact the other team members.'

'What's happened to comms, Phyleone?'

'Going on current info, comms is royally messed, Mike. What you want us to do?'

'We have to move on.'

'Let's wait for the others, Mike.'

'Phyleone, we don't have the time, the core temperature's rising.'

'Damn both of you! We can't just leave them. I'm waiting.' Phyleone walked away from us.- 'Hey! Wait...' Hell, what's the use? 'Mannamew,' I switched to a secure channel, 'we don't need them. Have they ever seen a reactor?'

'No - they're straight out of the Academy. We should wait for them though - give them some experience in this type of stuff.'

'We don't have the time.'

'Hey! I thought you said this was going to be routine?'

'Mannamew - I lied - we need to sort this reactor out now. Otherwise, we're all dead.'

'Christ. Let's go.'


Part 3 - Hub

Mannamew stepped out of the airlock first, into a hub section and lifted up the visor on his helmet.

The Hub is the outer layer of the Hofman institute. Mannamew and I had to somehow get into the inner ring.

'Mannamew, where the hell are we going?'

'I was kind of following you Michael.'

'Jesus, Mannamew! You've got the map!'

'You said knew this place.'

Know the place? I'd been practically born here. I remembered, all those years back, following my father, through the twisting corridors, past the nameless rooms and closed doors. Tugging at his heels as he oversaw the construction. He seemed like a god, whatever he marked on the magic paper would materialise weeks later. I used to sleep under that brown desk, my head resting on the crumpled up rejected ideas. The Hofman institute reflected all my fathers concepts and beliefs. Maybe that was why I left, heading for the mechanical academies, away from my father and all he stood for - order in chaos, a light in the depths.

'Michael? Let's go...'

'Huh? Forgive me, I'm old and tired.' I need some menzine.

Walking down the steps, I felt the needle pierce my skin. I began to walk across the chamber. Everything was better again, my body strong and alert.

'Michael, according to the map, the door opposite us leads to the inner chamber.'

I turned to face him. 'Excellent... Mannamew? Why is your visor open?'

'I prefer it this way, it's much easier to see.'

'I'm going to keep mine down. My lungs can't cope with the variations in concentration of oxygen.' Menzine reacted viciously to oxygen levels.

'Michael, you're not in shape! You should exercise more, like me!'

'Thanks Mannamew. Got the password?'

'Sure - DELTAMU.'

I typed into the keyboard codegate by the door.

The steel door slid open, revealing a long corridor. This is the way.

'Mannamew, follow me.'

'Sure, Michael.'

The corridor seemed familiar - much like all the others. The institute had a labyrinthine quality. You had to live there to see the subtle differences: paint colours, variations in room placements, minute variety in corridor height and width. Many years of youth were spent walking these endless corridors. As the son of the Institute's designer, I had complete access to areas. My hand in my fathers, the whole complex was mine. Everywhere except the core, which had always been forbidden. I checked the map.

'Mannamew, we're approaching the core.'

The corridor was very bright.

'Mannamew?'

No response.

I turned and started to run back down the corridor, the suits engines working flat out to move my mass as fast as possible.

Ahead of me, I could see a dark form lying against an entrance to a room.

It was Mannamew. His head was lying on one side of the inside of the helmet.

'Mannamew?'

I knelt beside him and leant forward, looking into the helmet.

There seemed to be something on his eyes. I couldn't see clearly.

His eyes were darker than normal and lifeless. If I could open my visor, I'd get a better look.

Could be...

I pulled my hand away from the visor latch very suddenly.

RADIATION

The helmet side display was clear and precise:

HIGH RADIATION - DO NOT OPEN VISOR

Mannamew was dead.

I looked into the burnt eyes. Undetected radiation entering through his open visor. His entire face was beginning to blacken. Tiny cuts from shaving, were starting to open up into red radiation sores.

I had a strange confusion of feelings: wanting to remove my visor, wanting to talk to him.

I bit my upper lip. The blood was reassuring.

Mannamew was becoming unrecognisable - the skin ruptured and swollen.

Killed by the Institute!

I started to run toward the core.

No. Stop. Just press the pad. Menzine. Sweet needle. Much better, can think straight again. Let the mind relax. It's all alright, I know where I am.

I reached the entrance door to the maintenance corridor and typed in the code.

It opened and I stepped through, leaving the dead and the world I knew, behind me.


Part 4 - Core

As the door closed behind me, the tiny air seals locking silently. I turned, gauging my position. In either direction, the corridors stretched two hundred metres before turning left or right. I checked the in-suit map - the corridor was built as a huge loop, encircling the reactor. The map showed several access points to the inner core chamber, the nearest being roughly three hundred metres to my right.

Listening carefully, I could hear the reactor's gurgling hum. Even as I looked, I could see the signs: fluctuations in the yellowish-orange corridor lighting, indicating irregular levels of energy production. The sodium lamps were overly bright, pulsing unevenly.

I needed to move faster.

I started to run down the corridor. The radiation was seeping through the walls of the reactor now, the indicator badge by my wrist slowly darkening.

There it was, on my left. A slight indent in the wall ahead of me, indicating an access door to the core. Only slightly taller than my suit, with thin red stripes across the yellow paint, I turned its opening wheel and waited. Nothing - it was locked.

I looked around the door frame. At chest level, on the right-hand side of the conclave, was a small codegate. I entered the password. The small screen flickered to life:

[PASSWORD INCORRECT - ACCESS DENIED]

Damn systems! I didn't have time for this. I looked at the door again. The door was sturdily build, designed to keep out ionising radiation, with an outer layer of aluminium covering a lead-based alloy. Force would be futile. I opened the tool hatch on the outside of the suit, removing a hand-sized rectangular cuboid. A tiny flame, two centimetres long, appeared at the tip of the cuboid and cut a small hole in the input panel. Inserting the suit's fingers into the hole, I pulled the keyboard cover off the terminal and looked inside.

Spaghetti stared back at me. Hundreds of red wires connecting circuits and transmitters filled the crevice. Individual testing would have be far too time-consuming. Tingling sensations in my knees and elbows indicated that radiation from the core was already beginning to penetrate through the suits joints and chinks. I gripped a bunch of wires tightly and ripped dozens from their paths. Scattering the strands across the corridor floor, I inserted my hand again and removed another handful. I looked inside again. Much clearer. On the left, the large motor mechanism. Small red power couple on the right. I plucked one of the remaining red wires hanging from the top, wrapping one end around the power couple, taking the other end and placing it in contact with the motor mechanism inputs.

I tried the first input.

Nothing.

Second.

Still nothing.

Third?

[CLICK]

The access door slid into the wall on the right.

Suddenly, I couldn't see. Even through my closed eyelids, I could feel the heat from the core. I found the visor controls and reduced the light by increasing visor opacity. I opened my eyes again and stepped into the core.

Core: blasting radiation, blazing heat, blinding light.

The inner core of a reactor is the closest a organic lifeform can get to the furnaces of stars. Even in my suit, behind the protective layers of lead and titanium, the heat penetrated through to my toughened skin. Gamma radiation, invisible and deadly, began killing my cells, breaking up their genetic coding.

It was a huge chamber, five hundred metres side to side and three hundred metres tall. In the centre is the cylindrical power core, which houses the fusion reactor. The plastiglass layers surrounding the power core, designed to cope with normal levels of radiation, were glowed fluorescent. Surrounding the plastiglass layers, at six equal points around the base of the cylinder, were the coolant control rods. Normally they would have absorbed heat from the reactor, ensuring it didn't overheat. The blackened corpses of the plant engineers lay beside the cooling rods. In despair, they'd tried to insert the cooling rods manually - without radiation protection. Their efforts had bought a little time.

Forcing my aching muscles down the steps I opened the rod cover, gripped the control rod and inserted it deeper into the fusion reactor. After finishing inserting the coolant rod, I began walking round to the next.

In went the next. Raising myself, I moved round. The suit seems heavier. Reaching the third rod, I opened the cover. The rod's already fully inserted. I start moving again. I'm trying to run, but the times from rod to rod were increasing.

I sat down by the fourth, (I think it's the fourth - or is it the fifth?), rod and twist my torso to try to open the cover. The cover won't open. It's all so difficult, my fingers feeling tired. The cover opens. I'm pushing in the rod. Seems far enough. I'd better move to the next one. The core's getting hotter. I'll rest here a while.

No - I raise myself and step towards the next rod. The core's light seems to be penetrating the visor. I can't see well anymore. Maybe I should rest. Rest when I get to the next rod. Hard to go straight. Place suit's left arm on plastiglass to steady myself.

The plastiglass feels nice and cool..

Plastiglass shouldn't be cool.

Yellow light from the core fills the room.

I'd better rest.

The light isn't yellow, it's...

Sweat droplets are running down my face. Taste of iron in my mouth.

Not red... Maybe blue...

I've got to do something very important. I'm not sure what exactly.

Yes... blue light...

Just rest now. Close my eyes.

A dark shape of blue...

Much better.

A nice deep blue.


Epilogue

SSHR Lapidation, Third Level, Grenoble Sector, Almington Administration Centre, Bureau 4.

There was a knock on the door.

'Hello?'

'Captain Wilmount, sir. Delivery of report ADF-001704-HIR ?'

'Ah, yes. Come in.'

'Thank you, sir.'

The door opened. Wilmount entered, his officer's uniform neater and tidier than usual, saluted and stood before the desk. Wilmount placed the report and a cup of milky coffee on the table.

'Let me have a look at this...' He leafed through the report, stopping at the final page. 'Is this the entire transcript?'

'Yes, sir. Everything the telepaths recorded is there, sir.'

'They failed?'

''Fraid so, sir.'

'That's a real shame.' He clenched his fist in frustration, paused for a while and then let it relax. 'Have you got the pictures?'

'We have the dropship recordings, sir.'

'Let's see them then.'

'Certainly, sir.'

The screen on the side of the room flickered to life. Both men turned to watch it. The screen is a view of the Delphine ocean surface. Suddenly, the screen pulsed pure white. Slowly it faded back to blue. Vast ripples of waves were radiating away from the centre of the screen.

The screen flickered for a second and then was still.

'No survivors?' Forming a pyramid with his fingertips, he rested his elbows on the desk.

'No, sir.'

'I guess not. That is what they're there for isn't it - to try?'

'Yes, sir.'

'And they tried didn't they?'

'To the last man and woman, sir.'

'We'll need a new team. Other cores will start to overheat. Under my jurisdiction alone, there are several thousand just waiting to go. Get Captain Weston to find another set of volunteers from the Academy graduates. Don't offer so much this time. This lot were overpaid.'

'Absolutely, sir.'

'Very good. That's quite enough. You can go.'

'Sir, the report?'

'Of course.' He handed him the report.

'Err... sir? What do you want done it it?'

'Oh, bin it.'

'Thank you, sir.' He saluted and turned to leave.

'Oh! One more thing.'

'Yes, sir?'

'Thanks for the coffee.'

Tom Oliver is currently studying in the second year of his A-Levels, writing primarily for pleasure, helping people to design and mantain web pages in his spare time. Tom is seventeen years old and lives and studies in London, UK. Any feedback, especially criticism, on the the story is very welcome.

And now for something completely different here is the author's criticism of his own story: Deep Blue a critical analysis

E-mail: maop08@dial.pipex.com

URL: http://www.angelfire.com/me/tomoliver/

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