Prologue
23 June 2017
The sun began to peak around the Earth as the International Space Station began its next orbital transit. The Space X shuttle had just arrived six hours before ferrying a new crew consisting of two female Astronauts, one German and one Israeli, and one American male. All three held Ph.D’s in Biochemistry and Mathematics respectively. They joined the three Cosmonauts, all male, who had been alone on the station for three months already. Scheduled for a two week turnover of duties, the Cosmonauts were to return to earth aboard their Soyuz capsule.
Dr. Marsha Levin, a Colonel in the Israeli Defensive Force (IDF), was on duty while the other five slept. She was trying to process the torrent of things that had happened in just the last two days when the leadership at SpaceX had decided to go ahead with launch. She was by far the youngest of the new crew at 37 years old. She had been fast tracked through the space training program after her near prodigy status came to light by a chance meeting with NASA leadership. The time from then till the launch had moved along with alarming speed and alacrity until she finally got this chance to catch her breath.
Yet, in many ways, she preferred to stay very busy. It kept her from dwelling on her internal demons. She didn’t know her crewmates that well, though they had trained together for a period of time before their selection for this mission. She thought back to her childhood in the Kibbutz in northern Israel where she grew up and the stark time interwoven with the sometime overwhelming threat that seem to be ever present from Israel’s neighbors. There was this one time when she was too far away from a bunker when the rockets from Lebanon began to fall on the outskirts of the Kibbutz…..
A shrill warning alarm jarred Dr. Levin out of her thoughts that had begun traveling down a dark road that she didn’t like to travel. However, she would soon see that the dark road traveled in day dreams and nightmares would pale in comparisons to the horror that she was alerted to followed closely by the computer screens she was monitoring showing a huge swath of Corona Mass Ejecta that had leaped off the sun and was screaming on a direct collision course with Earth. The Earth itself had blocked the event from the Space Station until at best there was about five hours left before impact.
Suddenly, Crew Captain Eva Lang appeared next to Levin and gave an audible gasp. “How long?”
Dr. Levin replied, “Five, Six hours tops.”
Eva Lang had grown up in the eastern Hessian village of Nüsttal that was as close to the boarder of East Germany as you could get without actually being there. She saw and experienced the differences between the east and the west and as the gravity of what she was seeing began to set in, she knew that there would indeed be no comparison. “Where?” She really didn’t need to ask. She could see for herself.
“North America.” Levin replied. “But judging how long it is, this will last a couple of days.”
Eva lost in thought mumbled, “The whole world……”
Lang, who was 52 years old and on her fourth space mission, two with the Shuttle program and now her second stay on the ISS, stirred from her thoughts, “And us?”
“Our orbit should keep us relatively safe; our systems are hardened against just this type of event.” Dr. Levin then pressed the toggle button. “ISS to Houston. ISS to Houston.”
“Houston, go ISS.”
Dr. Levin turned to Captain Lang. With a sigh, Captain Lang keyed the mic, “Houston, brace yourself, this isn’t good. Mission Continuing Hope is now changed to Enduring Survival. God help you and God help Mankind.”
Chapter 1
3 June 2017
“Left Surface!” Shouted the unnamed Petty Officer manning the life support station/dive station that was responsible for controlling the undersea craft. The support barge had been on station at this site for a couple of weeks. It was very non-descript and to the passing tanker or air craft looked just like any other low draft sea craft. However, its mission was steeped in secrecy.
With those words, the collective tension in the control room rose precipitously as the diving bell slowly began its descent to the ocean floor 600 feet below the surface of this small spot in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico, about 100 miles due south of Panama City Beach.
“Mark Time.” Calmly the Dive Supervisor registered the beginning of a two-month Saturation Dive at the bottom of the Gulf. Deep inside, he was on pins and needles as there was a lot at stake for this excursion. This was the first attempt to place United States Navy Divers into a long term deep submergence habitat since the failed Sealab III mission in the late 1960’s. President Clinton had taken a chance on this endeavor as she had in revolutionizing the Space Exploration Program. The next launch, scheduled for 23 June, would include many of the same experiments as this undersea excursion so that a comprehensive understanding of the two extreme environments could be teased out in comparison and in contrast. However, while the world was on stage for the Space part of the exercise, no one knew about the habitat in the deep waters of the Gulf of Mexico.
This effort was funded with both private and government dollars and totally supported by people and resources from the Navy Experimental Diving Unit (NEDU) that was located in Panama City Beach. As a mature science, undersea exposures were still in its infancy and there was still much to be learned about this relatively unexplored world. The old undersea habitat, the largest in the world, was modeled after the Ocean Simulation Facility located at NEDU.
The team of divers, three men and two women, would descend the six hundred feet to their new home in the unpiloted submersible. The trip down was conducted in stages and took about four days. During this time, the divers were somewhat cramped as besides the divers, all their gear and rations for their stay had to be transported as well.
On board the diving bell were the dive leader, Hospital Corpsman Chief Petty Officer (HMC) Marc Logan and his crew of two young petty officers and two diving medical officers. Logan, though only 27 years of age, was cut from the old diving school mode of thought and had quickly risen through the Navy ranks, reaching Chief, after nine years of service. He was rugged with a very quiet, confident demeanor. He was a natural born leader who did not have to say a whole lot to get his point across. He kept his hair close cropped and though there was some premature graying, you had to look closely to see it in the light brown offering that he barely left on top. His eyes were slate blue and very intense. Very little escaped their focus or attention. He had the ability to assess his surrounding quickly and make the appropriate decisions that could often decide matters of life or death. His other features were rather unremarkable and this allowed him to fit in without standing out in many settings. Average height at an even six foot fall, and a trim 190 pounds served him well on long missions such as this one.
He was a natural selection to lead this team and with the exception of the diving medical officers, he handpicked the other two enlisted men. And, it was his job to make sure everyone pulled his or her weight safely and efficiently and to ensure that some semblance of harmony ruled. With only five members of the team, there would be little down time.
Taking into consideration that he was having to be confined for three months, he pick two men who were similar to himself in personality and in skill. The first was a six foot, two inch African American who was a Petty Officer Second Class Radioman Diver, Sal Davis. His selection came from necessity for communications but also for his coolness under pressure. He was a skilled fabricator who could work with varying types of metal and exhibited a talent with wood as well. He exhibited no wasted motions and was very fluid on his and Logan’s frequent hunting trips to North Alabama. As expert rifle shot with multiple rifles, he was only bested on occasion by Logan.
The third diver selected was a rather diminutive man of Germanic origin who, though only about five foot, eight inches tall was very stocky and very quick on his feet. For this dive he was the equipment technician and Logan knew there was none better at problem solving on the fly then Kurt Mathis. There were few weekends that went by that he did not join the other two in their excursions. He was almost as good with weaponry as Logan and Davis, but was superior in explosives, supply and logistics. As each man had to fulfill a multiple of roles, these were the best.
The diving medical officers (DMO) were there to keep the crew healthy. Though there has been a lot of research on long term deep submergence exposures, there were still some unknowns in this challenging environment. And the DMOs were fully stocked and skilled to handle most any emergency including minor surgery and depth related injuries.
Their home for the next three months as a habitat that essentially had five large hyperbaric chambers that were daisy chained together, providing their living quarters. The individual chambers were labeled “A” through ”E” and, in the standard military convention, were named “Alpha”, “Bravo”, “Charley”, “Delta”, and “Echo”. Entry into the Habitat was gained through a small chamber located below the Charley chamber. There was differential pressurization in this room that kept the sea out, but provided a large circular access to the ocean. Here, too, all the diving equipment was stored, staged and cleaned. A winch was affixed to the ceiling to raise and lower there diving stage as needed. A small gas farm located just outside the chamber housed enough breathing gas mixes for various depths for up to six months. Resupply was to be done by submersible.
Bunks were located in Alpha, Bravo, Delta and Echo chambers. Bravo and Delta chambers doubled as the movie theater and the shower/toileting facilities; both of which were opened to the chamber requiring privacy on the honor system. Though there were lockout ports in both Bravo and Delta chambers, there was a small galley located at the far end of the habitat in echo chamber. Due to the nature of the breathing gases in the habitat, all food was either consumed as it was or it was warmed chemically in an external device connected to Echo chamber.
They had enough Meals Ready to Eat (MREs) to last about a year and for water, there was a closed loop reverse osmosis/forward osmosis water production unit, thanks to an interagency loan with NASA. This technology, developed at NASA Ames Research Center and perfected on the International Space Station (ISS) was key for recycling all of their “gray water” and from time to time, desalinating small amounts of sea water. With proper care, this equipment would function indefinitely. Prior to the dive, all MREs were field stripped and had their heating elements removed and made compression ready. As it wasn’t that desireable to live off of MRE’s for any length of time, there would be periodic resupply via the submersible with fresh fruit and vegetables. Logan was well versed in nutrition in operational environments and had insisted on fresh produce to keep them at the top of their game.
After four days in the submersible, the divers finally reached the habitat. With the destination finally attained, it was like a dream to finally move around the habitat that was palatial by comparison. And after four days the smells in the bell were beginning to reach unprecedented heights. What passed for the port-o-potty had reached it’s capacity and was very ripe to say the least.
The first few days in the habitat involved setting up the living spaces, stowing the diving gear and other equipment, assessing rations and just generally becoming accustomed to the depth and heaviness of the breathing air. At 600 feet below sea level, the air density is at the point where it could be quite uncomfortable to talk, eat or even breathe at the same time. And as HMC Logan knew from prior NEDU research, cognitively, it would take about five days to adapt to the environment so that work could be done safely. So the first five to seven days were filled with the three “M”…. Movies, Meals and Mattresses. Without natural sunlight/night cycles, they would have to rely on the artificial light and dark cycles in the habitat.
In order to insure some amount of privacy for both male and female crew members, HMC Logan assigned female berthing in Delta and Echo chamber while male berthing was in Alpha and Bravo chamber. It wasn’t lost upon the two officers that the chow device was located in their sleeping quarters; HMC quickly established when the other members could and could not heat their meals.
The dive was relatively uneventful for the first two weeks or so. Settling in with a mixed crew was challenging, especially considering each member tended toward an alpha personality. Allowing that there would always be issues that needed to be worked through, the crew settled into a solid work routine, carrying out the business of the dive and all the experimental protocols attached to this particular dive. On the 20th day of the dive, HMC Logan was working on a stuck fitting about 20 yards from the habitat. He had 45 minutes left in his dive when he got a call from Petty Officer Davis. Oddly enough, at that moment the submersible began to quickly head back to the surface.
“Chief, Something is wrong here.” Sal commented upon establishing contact.
Logan watched the dive bell until it was out of sight. “What is it?”
“We have lost coms to the surface.”
“Okay… Probably just a glitch.” Logan began to address the fitting again.
“No, Chief, it isn’t. They had started broadcasted then the transmission ended. They started to say something about a situation.”
His friend addressing him by “Chief” got his attention. It was almost the same way that most sailors will say "Shipmate". “Okay, give me five then I will head in. I have to get this project started at least.”
About fifteen minutes later, the stage raised Logan into the dry-dive area under Charley chamber. He stepped off and with assistance from his diving buddy for this dive, LT Dana Callahan, he was able to get the heavy equipment off and stowed. LT Callahan was the younger of the two DMOs, and was by far the least experienced diver in the group. Though she had an athletic build, she did tend to be on the taller and leaner side of the spectrum. She was also, by far, the most outspoken of the five, tending to speak before she thought most of the time.
The two headed into Charley chamber, which served as the command and control center. All the communication and tactical surveillance equipment was located here. “Okay, replay what you got.” Logan urged.
Petty Officer Davis reached over and hit play as he had already queued the transmission. “Team I do not have a lot of time, you have to listen carefully. As you know this mission was top secret, we didn’t want the politicians to know about it. As such, no one knows you are down there. You will have to make do on……..” This was followed by a loud static pulse then there was nothing.
“That is it.” Davis commented.
“Any video?” Logan asked.
"Yes, just this, then the cameras transmission also went to snow.”
Logan looked at the screen and the time stamp. Both feeds went to snow at the same time. He had Davis freeze the last image. “Look that sailor is holding a hand written sign. Can you make it out?”
Davis fiddled with the controls a little then the sign pulled into focus. Two words were hastily written on the card. “STAY DOWN”. This was the last image that the dive team saw.
LT Callahan blurted, “Stay Down? What does that mean?”
Logan thought for a moment. There was still over two months left in this scheduled dive. He wasn’t sure if it meant to sit tight till then or not. “For now, I do not know. Maybe it means to continue the dive or maybe it means to stay longer. We will need to try to find out.” Logan paused. “Sal, keep trying to reestablish contact. Also look for other anomalies to see if we can piece things together.” Then looking at them sternly, he followed, “Either way, the submersible went topside about 30 minutes ago.” Pausing to let that sink in, he continued, “Without that, we have no way to safely decompress and surface.”
Chapter 2
23 June 2017
Carl smoothly lifted the helicopter off of the runway at the Houma-Terrebone Airport in Houma, Louisiana. Carl Levin, who had just turned 45 years old the previous week, had for the last twelve years been the primary pilot for the Bayou Transportation Company (BTC) at its transportation hub from this small airport in South Louisiana. A small corporation, BTC services about a dozen rigs in this part of the Gulf of Mexico off of Louisiana. As he had tenure, he worked a traditional five day week making deliveries of human capital and sustenance resources. His primary helo was the large Sikorsky S-92, a twin engine, medium-lift heliocopter that had a range of about 600 miles and could carry about 20 people.
On this particular trip he had a crew of five mud loggers and a senior Vice President on board. His co-pilot, a just out of school former Navy pilot, completed the load. His plan was to drop off the five workers and his co-pilot at Rig number 23 then fly another 35 miles to a new Rig, number 27, where his VP was to make a visual inspection of the Rig. Number 27 had been put into place two weeks before, but bad weather had hampered setup.
The VP happened to be the youngest daughter of the owner of Gulf Saturation Exploration and this was their newest rig. It was her determination alone to see if the rig was safe to bring out the set up crew.
Having made his first stop Carl brought the Sikorsky into a seaward approach to the temporary landing pad atop the main deck of the rig. He gently set the bird down and the VP looked at him and told him to stay there as she exited the aircraft and began her inspection. Carl chuckled to himself as the helo spun down. He still had a third stop to make to deliver supplies to another rig about 45 miles away. He was sure that they were eagerly awaiting the food and spare parts for their equipment. Rig 27 was about 120 miles from the Mississippi Delta and was about as lonely as you could imagine a rig being. Construction had just been completed and it awaited final acceptance testing before the first team of workers would arrive. The transition team had just left the week before so there wasn’t a single living soul on the rig. The sooner this lady finished her walk about, the better he felt.
Carmen Baker was about average height at 5’4 and weighed around 120 pounds. She didn’t have any trouble making her way around this rig as she had virtually grown up in these isolated cities in the middle of the gulf. She had a head for this business and she was a natural choice for the next senior owner, whenever her father decided he had enough. She kept her dark red hair a comfortable shoulder’s length and was in the company’s dark blue coveralls, keeping her business suits pristine for when she was in the office.
After about 40 minutes Carmen returned to the heliopad and climbed into the Sikorski. “I am ready whenever you are.” She had noticed Carl about a year previous. She always chose him for these trips but wasn’t sure if he even noticed. She fixed him with her green eyes and asked, “How long until we are able to get back to Houma?”
Carl thought for a moment then did his calculations out loud, “15 minutes to spool up, go through checklists and takeoff, about 20 minutes to next rig with about an hour of turnaround time then another 20 minute trip back to the first rig to get the folks heading back then about an hour in…” He left it hanging a bit before he added, “How about you take this left seat and give me a hand? You can see more up here, but then again, how much water can anyone look at?”
She gladly joined him and he started the checklists and when he had them complete and the four blades trimmed and proper touque inputted, the Sikorsky lifted into the air. He continued rising to about 300 feet above the rig and slowly rotated the back end by easing back on the right pedal and allowing the natural tail rotor torque to turn the aircraft. He began to push the cyclic forward to gain lift when both engines suddenly shut down. Immediately he dropped the collective, praying it wasn’t his transmission too, before the bird began to drop out of the sky. Manipulating the pedals he was able to execute a picture perfect autorotation back down to the pad where he raised the collective just before touching down to make the landings less difficult.
Carmen, somewhat ashen, let out her held breathe and exclaimed, “What was that?”
“I don’t know, I just lost all power and all my systems. Good thing we were still here or that would have been a quick trip into the drink.”
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Divers Down
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