“So,” It was time to get down to business. “did anyone tell you what I’m going to be doing down there? And FYI, I’ll let you know, it’s not to play with the fishes.”
Tabitha snorted. “Yeah. I didn’t think so. They, uh, said you have equipment that will cut through my hull, which sounds pretty awesome right about now. Although we’ll have to discuss how that will work once you’ve breached, because I’m fully aware that things are going to flood pretty quickly after that, if they haven’t already. I’m taking on water at approximately a quarter inch a minute.” She paused for a second before continuing. “So… Just how long do you think this Aquaman rescue thing is going to take?”
“There’s no telling,” Spencer chuckled at her reference, but answered honestly. “I think you may have mentioned that the inner hull of your sub is made of titanium, which is a very hard metal, so I’m not going to lie. Even though cutting through the composite material of your outer hull should be a piece of cake, the rest of the operation won’t be fast or easy. Depending on how much time the cutting takes and how much energy I have to expend doing it, I’ll have to go up two or three times for new air tanks. But don’t worry. We’ll make this rescue happen beforeyourun out of breathing space.”
He certainly fucking hoped so. Failure was not an option.
The major worry, of course, was expediency, and he’d have to weigh certain risks to keep things moving at a steady pace, especially considering he’d have to make several trips up and down. Diving to thirty feet, Spencer technically wasn’t supposed to go to that depth again for a second time—let alone a third or fourth, which he might need to do—without letting his body off-gas at the surface for at least forty minutes between trips. But he was going to have to take his chances. There was no way he could afford to burn through that much time for each instance he was forced to surface before heading back down.
Of course, there was one other thing to consider. Since they were just off the lighthouse, sea levels where Tabitha had been working would rise and fall with the tides. He’d have to check to see which way the tides were going right now. With luck, they’d be headed out, so his depth would be a little bit shallower for each submersion.
“Listen,” Tabitha said, bringing his mind out of planning mode. “I’m going to be turning my battery power off for fifteen minutes to conserve what I have left. Then I’ll turn it on for five minutes so we can communicate. I’ll do that for the duration of the rescue or until they fail. Set your watch, Spencer. Fifteen off, five on. Got it? If you don’t hear from me…” She trailed off.
“Got it.” Spencer knew what Tabitha was saying. If she ran out of power, or her batteries died, the fans that circulated her air would stop working altogether, and then after an unspecified amount of time… A bad situation. Doing it the way she described, at least for as long as the system was operational, the outages meant she’d be getting hot, sweaty, and lightheaded between blasts of fresh Nitrox, but she’d be doling it out in a way that might sustain her for a longer period.
Spencer reached down and programmed the alarm on his diver’s watch. “I’m set.”
“Okay. Safe dive. Going dark,” she told him, then there was dead air.
Fuck.Nothing about this situation was good.
As quickly as possible, Spencer donned his wet suit while Pietro and the guys got his cutting equipment into a net, then rigged it to an electric winch. He’d go down with the load, which would get him to the sub in less than a minute.
At least they hadsomethinggoing for them. At thirty feet, the trip to the bottom would be rapid, so he could get right to it. Coming up, however, he’d have to take a safety stop at fifteen feet to off-gas excess nitrogen that he’d accumulated, but only for three minutes.That,he could allow.
“Skipper,” he spoke into his comm since he was masked up. “Can you see if there are any vessels nearby that are equipped with a hyperbaric chamber?”
With any luck, they’d be within range of a dive-support boat, or a live-aboard dive boat that would have what he hoped they wouldn’t need.
“On it,” the captain replied, headed toward the bridge. “We’ve already notified the Coast Guard, but their nearest cutter—the only vessel equipped with what you want—is three hours out on practice maneuvers. They’re headed our way, now, but even before that ship arrives, the Coasties are sending a patrolboat to our position. It should be here in just over an hour, and they’ll have a couple more certified divers onboard. Which means you’ll eventually have help underwater. I’ll still put the call out to see if there are any civilian crafts in the area that will meet your decompression needs.”
Spencer wasn’t going to hold his breath—no pun intended. It was late afternoon, and most divers—at least those he knew of in Maine—would have long since finished up for the day. However, with a mayday call, he also knew that a lot of them—if they weren’t already at home and out of range of their radios—would do whatever it took to head back out and help.
It was go time.
After checking his equipment once again, Spencer went easily over the rail and rode down on the winch line, releasing air from his buoyancy control device, or BCD as he went.
Within forty seconds after being submerged, he spotted the small sub. It sat adjacent to the pier, thirty meters to his right, alone and forlorn, with a large section of concrete decking sitting directly atop it.
What a fucking mess.
Before reaching the proper depth, he called up to Pietro who was monitoring the descent.
“Hold,” Spencer alerted him. The line stopped. “Mark.”
Pietro would make note of the amount of line that was out, and duplicate it when needed.
“I’m unhooking now, then heading over to take a look.”
The Atlaua had to keep an amount of distance from the submersion site for the safety of the sub, but Spencer was happyit wasn’t too far. Although he’d haul his equipment an extra mile if he had to.
He swiftly unhooked his load from its carabiners, and adjusting his buoyancy, he made the swim, net in tow.
Once he stopped next to the sub, he looked at his watch. There were still seven minutes until Tabitha would turn her battery power back on so they could communicate, so to alert her to the fact that he was there, he moved close and gave several taps on the hull.
He got an answering knock. Then because he couldn’t help himself and needed a visual, he moved a few feet to one side to look through the nearest available acrylic portal.
And there she was, her hand-held flashlight illuminating her surroundings.
