Precious Cargo

Anya skims her fingers through the seawater baths that hold salt-encrusted objects. Yesterday, the automated underwater dredger (AUD) brought in what appears to be an iron helmet, a plate, a handful of coins, and a set of what looks like ancient wooden auction gavels. In Calypso, a mining complex three miles below the North Atlantic, the AUDs normally harvest a steady stream of manganese and precious metal nodules from the seafloor. This haul, however, implies a different kind of treasure -- from a sunken ship.

"Did the University respond yet?" Anya asks a white-haired man squinting at an image of the seafloor over the rim of his glasses.

"No," Ekewaka replies. "I'm sure they'll have to research before they know which wreck we've stumbled across. It'll help if I can map the debris field."

"Good luck, it had an awful long way to sink. Did the AUD data show-"

Calypso's emergency lights and sirens start blaring as a shudder runs through the facility.

"What the hell? Did we lose pressure?" Anya asks.

Ekewaka checks his monitor. "I'm not sure."

The floor heaves and Anya cries out as her hip strikes the corner of a table.

"Good God!" shouts Ekewaka. "We're being fired upon by a minisub! They've collapsed the garden wing."

"Someone's shooting at us? What the hell for? There are families on this rig!"

"Looks like pirates!" Ekewaka says.

"This is Captain Onite. Launch escape pods," blares the com system.

They'll be sitting ducks! worries Anya.

She throws on a wetsuit from the closet and bursts from the lab. Families are shouting, grabbing children and belongings, and diving for the pods. An obstacle course of paperwork and household objects are scattered everywhere. Another explosion knocks Anya down just inside the AUD garage. Letting out a colorful string of curses at the pain, she hurtles into a survey glider and begins rushing through the launch procedures.

"What the hell are you doing, pilot?!" Captain Onite's voice calls over the glider's communication system. "You'll die. Get into a life pod!"

"What if they start shooting at them?"

"Anya? I order you to abandon ship!" Onite says.

"I'm not a soldier, Bob."

The computer indicates that pressure in her section is still safe for opening launch doors. She's out and speeding through the inky black in moments. Seeing the minisub through sonar, she speeds towards them.

"Damnit, woman, they have torpedoes!" Onite screams. "You're in a survey glider. What the hell do you think you can do?"

"Watch my six," she says.

"They're launching a torpedo!"

The object is closing fast. She's too far from the seafloor so she hurls the glider within feet of the canyon wall, and the torpedo explodes into it. Her glider spins out of control and she's hit in the face with a bone-chilling stream of water. She zips her wet suit the rest of the way up to stave off hypothermia and checks her instruments. The navigation is damaged, but she could fly this canyon in her sleep.

One more hit like that and I'll implode.

She heads back for their minisub, thankful that she can travel twice their speed and outmaneuver them. Approaching within a few feet, she turns her forward lights on full.

Okay, that's their front. It's a Neptune43 model. Ballast systems in the back. Escape pods along the sides. She used to be a mechanic for a military contractor back home. They had twelve Neptune43 subs in their fleet.

She swings wide and the sub turns to follow. They can't keep up with her, but they can fire again.

"I'm drawing them off," she shouts to Onite. "How are the pods?"

"We've had a couple close calls," he says. "So far, they're all rising slowly enough."

That's it! The ballast systems were always their weakest point!

She swings the glider wide, dodging another torpedo which detonates in the rocks nearby. No damage.

She approaches the minisub from behind, turning the forward lights on well in advance. She takes the risk of slowing down when she's right above the rear of their hull.

They can see me on sonar anyway. They'd be stupid to use weapons at this range.

She uses the controls to clamp onto a maintenance handle with a sample retrieval claw. The minisub tries to shake her with a descent spin. She gasps and prays as the hulls crash together. Deploying the second claw, she pushes through the vortex swirling around them, trying to get a grip on the cable housing.

Yes! Now pull. The winch cable whines against the resistance of the thin copper tubing. Come on... come on!

SNAP.

The pipe breaks under the pressure as a geyser of bubbles erupts from the sub's hull. In an instant, the minisub accelerates at a dangerous speed towards the surface.

"Anya!" Onite screams through her headset. "Are you attached to that sub? Break away! You're ascending too fast!"

Quickly, she releases the claw holding the sub, but the other one is tangled in the cable housing. She starts hearing popping along the glider's sides.

"Shit!" she screams.

"Do you hear me?" Onite says. "They're launching their own pods, Anya! Get out of there!"

Pain starts to shoot through her ears as she continues to ascend through the pressure. "The claw is caught!" She fights in vain with the controls.

"Eject it!" Onite shouts. "Lever to the right! Red switch!"

What?

She pulls the lever and flips the first red switch she sees. The claw ejects, and the glider spins off the hull of the sub that is rocketing toward destruction. Relief floods over her as her ascent stalls. Curling into a fetal position, she covers her ears, her heart hammering through them with piercing pain.

"Anya!"

"I'm off!" She croaks into her mic.

"Thank God," Onite breathes. "Stay there. I'm sending a glider to get you before pressure sickness sets in. Anya..."

"What?" she whispers.

"I didn't say this... but thanks. The pods are safe."

Now she can cry.